Chapter 2
Delivery in 30 Minutes or it's Free
A week had passed far too quickly for her liking, and begrudgingly, the bartender knew she would have to move soon if she wanted to meet the deadline arranged by Erron Black. Still, the stubborn woman remained where she was; refusing to move from her stool while she continued to glower at the basket that sat on top of the bar's old surface. She scratched absently at the exposed skin of her forearm as she continued to regard the inanimate object with more contempt than it deserved.
"The guard will know you'll be coming by at dusk with a delivery. You'll give 'em to the head of the kitchen and then I'll get it. I want 'em at the end of every week."
His baritone voice had crept into her mind every day since their last encounter, and as the days passed closer to her appointment with him, she began to disdain him a little more each time.
"You don't wanna have me come back here."
Her eyes narrowed marginally; Norah hadn't forgotten his parting words and it had resulted in many sleepless nights the past few days. She battled with what to do: either give into his demands or if she didn't, face the multitude of consequences possibly awaiting her if she refused the Kahn's guard.
Could the gunslinger simply want just a simple business transaction or was there a trap awaiting her as soon as she showed up to the palace with illegal items? Neither option seemed to have a beneficial outcome in the end for herself or father to do business with Black. There was too much leverage to use against them that could result in imprisonment or beheading if they were caught, and she didn't like that it was all based on his compliance; he could easily turn them in with no evidence but his word.
The woman scoffed at the word that came to mind that defined it all: Blackmail.
She glanced once again out the window, noting that the day was approaching towards its end and huffed once again at the basket. Irritation ate at her as she rested her elbow on the table and placed a balled fist in front of her lips.
Meanwhile, another individual sat at the bar, currently looking over their finances and sent an impatient stare her way that she failed to notice. Her father's voice cut through her distemper, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Deliver the basket, Norah."
The female server's aggravation transitioned from the basket to her father and she met his stare with an equally sour look. "No."
Her father slammed his book shut and rose from his stool until he was in front of her on the other side of the bar. He pushed the basket towards her with a slight shove.
"He is giving us coins to deliver this to him— so do so," he told her with a restless tone. He had prodded relentlessly at her all day to leave the tavern to deliver the basket and she could tell he was finally exasperated. "Coins we need."
"Coins you need because of a desire to sample a taste of the realm you are from," she corrected harshly, she shook her head. "I told you it would be difficult to sell it, but once again you have dragged me into your endeavors, and now we have a bigger debt to pay."
Silence fell between them, and Norah looked back up to meet his face that was full of frustration. Norah didn't falter at her father's discontent, though; she knew she had spoken the truth and refused to feel guilty about it.
"Erron Black is robbing us with his silence and our stock," Norah told him, shaking her head in disapproval, "there is no benefit to become of this. He barely paid what was due for the bottle he took."
"Which is why you are doing this. You will deliver this to him and retrieve the money — demand what is owed if you have to!" her father ordered, his fist slamming the bar's surface lightly.
Norah laughed sardonically at his exorbitant comment. Demand money from one of Kotal Khan's deadliest warriors? Did he hear the words coming from his mouth or did he simply not care because he was not the one who would have to deal with Black personally? He always boasted behind curtains that he was an unyielding business man, but time and time again she watched her father falter in precarious negotiations. Bitterly, she could recall his attempts at bluster rewarding him with nothing but bruises. Perhaps once he was successful in Earthrealm, but never once had Norah ever seen him successfully commit to the pledges he made.
"Why is it that I have to do this?" Norah asked pointedly. She nodded towards his sandaled feet and pointed out: "I see that you have two legs as well."
"He asked for you to do it did he not?" her father replied, a small flicker of sarcasm in his voice.
Norah narrowed her eyes at him, and he silently replied with a stern countenance. "I am not delivering these to him," she asserted, "and there is nothing you can say to convince me otherwise."
Her father paused for a moment before a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth before he gave her his threat, something he knew would make her buckle.
"So be it then. I will deliver the basket to Erron Black and you may pick up the supplies from Rhen from now on."
Her face fell at the comment and she met her father's face with a tiny, horrified disposition. The old Earthrealmer smiled at her, his head tilting at her and waiting for her reluctant acceptance to his new proposed arrangement—but they both knew she wouldn't.
She sighed in defeat. "Damn you..." she cursed to herself, choosing wisely not to voice it, before she submitted and grabbed the basket from the bar.
Her father opened the book and resumed counting as Norah closed the door with a curt slam.
The bartender moved through the sand-covered streets of Z'unkahrah with defeat as she carried Erron Black's whiskey towards the Emperor's golden domed palace in the distance. As dusk draped the desert city in a brilliant orange hue, the cautious girl looked about to see most of the denizens that crowded the marketplace were heading inside for the night or closing their stores. Inside of windows that towered above her in adjacent apartments, she could make out families settling down for supper. She even took note of the few people gathering laundry on top of the buildings, and she wished for a fleeting second, she could trade places with them.
With a hesitant grimace, Norah looked beyond the bazaar and at the Emperor's Palace as if she was voluntarily walking herself to a dungeon; her nervousness growing with each step she took. The entire situation confused her and at the same time sent a wave of suspicion through her.
As a heavy stone of caution settled in her stomach, and she caught herself walking slower as the palace came closer to her; she didn't know what to expect. What if Erron Black had forgotten the deal and this was all a huge mistake? What if she was killed or imprisoned for just bothering one of the Osh-Tekk guards? It caused her to swallow the lump in her throat uneasily at the thought.
The Kahn's palace loomed before her with brilliant exuberance; mammoth and architecturally beautiful as the yellow dome glowed like a second golden sun from behind it's high barricade walls. The native Outworlder had never been so close to the palace walls before, always fearing her presence alone would be indiscretion enough to be executed if she dared to ever roam near it. The ominous foreboding didn't dissipate as she walked through the public gates towards the palace and the royal residence toward over her like a haughty leviathan; she didn't belong there, and it was as if the building itself knew it. Her green eyes flickered to the multitude of guards stationed at entrances that pocketed the inner walls—the ones that led directly to the palace and only a few could enter. Her sandals kicked up sand as her heavy feet skirted her towards the edge of the public garden.
She combed through her memory, trying to recall what he had said about the servant's entrances to the south, as Norah walked along the border of the palace. The bartender passed grand staircase surrounded by guards on both sides and made her way to the entrance.
The girl rounded the palace and found a small stone alley that was empty and seeing no interference, walked through it with a frown; feeling as if she was entering a haunted labyrinth.
Eventually, it ended, and she found herself caught in the stare of an Osh-Tekk guard standing in front of a heavily bolted wooden door. Armed with a spear, he stared at her with a blank expression, as if he had been expecting her; this must have been the guard Black had spoken about.
Norah approached him slowly, her footsteps careful as a shutter of nervousness exhaled out of her mouth. The skull-painted guard looked at her and blinked a couple of times as if waiting for her to say something. At this moment, there was no turning back and she hoped that Black had not forgotten to tell the guard—and that he was well paid by the marksman to keep quiet. She could almost see the situation going poorly in her head like a tragic play if he hadn't and pictured herself being run through with the spear.
I have this"— she gestured gingerly to the basket by lifting it slightly— "for Erron Black."
In response, the Osh-tekk simply looked at the straw basket in her hands and then back to her before he nodded and stepped aside, unlocked the door and opened it for her.
She blinked a couple of times, stunned that was she was not dead, and nodded her thanks as she walked past him.
Immediately, Norah greeted a sea of white curtains hanging from lines; it was a laundry area and by the looks of it deserted. As she used her hand to block the fabric, she noticed that the large bins were empty of water, the fires were dying, and the scrub boards lay abandoned for tomorrow. An old memory of a previous employer entered her mind, and she rolled her eyes; her days of doing laundry as a profession made her sigh with hatred.
Across the enclosed area, she found another sand colored archway and door, approached it, tugged the handle and found it unlocked. She pushed the heavy wooden door in and found herself in a small garden. The plants in the ground poked through the ground in organized rows, and she figured they must be for meals; she did recognize a few herbs from her own garden that she used daily in their bread.
She walked towards the stone path that hugged the walls of the palace until a wonderful earthy scent invaded her. She breathed in the delightful smell and felt her stomach growl in response. Norah located the source of the smell and approached the barren wooden door and reached to open it.
She heard noises coming from the other side of the door and jumped back when it suddenly opened at her, and an older Outworld woman came out dressed in a dark green dress with sleeves and a white apron tied around her waist.
Her face was kind, pretty and maternal but exhausted as she tucked a strand of salt hair back behind her ear; the rest of her hair pinned up. She finally noticed her, and as same as the guard, did not seem surprised.
The woman smiled lightly, but Norah couldn't help but notice a bit of mistrust and rebuke in her dark eyes; she was repulsed by her but tried to retain false civility.
She lifted her chin and thrust the basket towards her. "I see that Black told you. Here."
She looked at her amused as if she was humoring a child trying to be brave. "Yes. He said you would be by," she acknowledged, mostly to herself.
The older Outworlder reached for the basket and grabbed it, but Norah held on to it firmly, earning a confused and somewhat peeved expression from the older woman.
"It is not free. I want what is owed to me," Norah demanded, her face stony. The woman flashed her a belittling and cold smile; as if she did not take her seriously.
"Don't worry about the payment," she told her plainly, a contemplative scowl set in the younger girl's direction. Norah didn't like the vagueness and uncertainty of her answer, nor did she appreciate the woman's candid expression. The Outworld elder clearly did not like her, and after her many years in Outworld, she could always tell just by body language alone why people distrusted her before even knowing her character…
Because she looked like an Earthrealmer.
And Norah hated it.
Regardless, she returned to the situation at hand. "No. I want the coins promised to me."
The older woman cocked a defiant head at her. "Then march in the palace and find him yourself, dear."
Her calm but pompous proposition sent a spark of annoyance course thorough Norah. Not only was the woman so grating, but her indifference irritated her. Not only her indifference, but Black's as well. He hadn't even bothered to give the woman the money to give to her? Was he not interested in paying at all? Or did he believe she was an easy mark that he could order around and not give anything back in return—or when he felt up to it later. She didn't care how dangerous he proclaimed to be, if the mercenary didn't even have the common courtesy to honor the agreement he had set, then there was no point in doing business henceforth.
Despite knowing it was probably not a wise decision, Norah heatedly pulled the basket from the older woman's grasp, shook her head and began to walk away.
"No money—no deal," was all that Norah growled out to the woman, and before she could open the door, the older woman called out to her.
"I would not play games with snakes if I were you," she warned her, her tone frigid but sprinkled with dark humor, "Especially the venomous ones."
The bartender considered her words for a moment and debated if she should truly heed them. With a scowl, she flashed the woman an indignant stare and replied unapologetically: "I apologize for bothering you."
With a slam of the door, she curtly walked back to the tavern with a heavy basket, empty pockets and a mind full of apprehensive thoughts.
Erron Black sat at his desk and methodically cleaned his revolvers—customary after a long day of trekking through the sand covered capitol looking for leads to prospective bounties. However, his efforts had yielded in no results, and the prospect that he had wasted a day, did not do well for his demeanor; there were a million other things he could have preoccupied himself with them chasing around false leads.
Sitting in his chair with just his pants and boots on, the marksman settled his now clean revolver on the table, leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He rubbed the small leather strip of the faded scar on his nose under his fingertips when a knock at his door. He tried to ignore it, but another set of knocks came soon after. A grumble echoed through his quarters before he got up from his chair and tiredly waked towards the door.
Tama, the head of the kitchen, greeted him on the other side of the door with a placid smile stretched on her face.
"What?" he demanded.
The woman lifted her chin at him as she clasped her hands behind her back. "That girl came to deliver your goods, but she refused to give you anything until you paid her."
The mercenary blinked at her words. After such a long, grueling week, finding out that he couldn't even get the thing he had been looking forward to was out of his reach as well made ire coil in the pit of his stomach like a rattlesnake. Why was she refusing? Did she think he wouldn't uphold his end of the bargain? He didn't need to prove to her that he was good for it and finding out that he was going to have to march back to that humdrum bar to get his shit, made him grit his teeth in annoyance.
"She didn't give you anything?" he questioned with a displeased tone.
Tama's eyes danced, a sardonic smile pulling at the corner of her mouth and said:" I believe what she told me was: 'no payment, no deal'."
Black raised an irate eyebrow at her words, "Is that right?" he said, his voice low as Tama nodded simply.
Erron jerked his head towards the hall, silently ordering her to buzz off. The older servant did so, raising an eyebrow at him before she disappeared from his doorframe. The mercenary exhaled hotly through his nose, his lips twisting into a vexed scowl before he closed the door and walked across his room to retrieve his vest.
If she wanted her money, she would get her money…
and he would set the record straight on how deals were conducted with him.
As night finally settled on the Outworld city, Norah waited patiently in the tavern, her mind too preoccupied to sleep as a single candlestick on the bar illuminated the small kitchen while she wrapped up the only payment she could offer. She tucked the bread into the cloth and exited the kitchen to the bar area; waiting patiently for the routine knocks she had grown accustomed to when her mind strayed too far at night.
Norah had been fortunate that her father had already settled down for the night when she returned with no money in her pocket, but she knew she would have to endure his scolding in the morning. Despite Black not giving her anything, she knew her father would blame her for. Say that she was too stubborn and that it displeased Black and that is why they wouldn't get paid.
Three sharp knocks came at the door at a fast rhythm she knew. Knock-Knock-Knock!
Grateful for the distraction from her turmoil speculations, Norah picked up the bread and walked towards the door, opened it and smiled solemnly at the friendly face that greeted her.
Guang, her friend and an elderly Outworlder smiled warmly at her, causing the sunspots on his wrinkled face to shift over face. She had known him for some time, even before her insomnia. A friend of Lahn's, the woman who had taught her how to bake bread and who she considered more of a mother than her own had been, had introduced them to each other when she was younger. Lahn was gone, but Guang had always maintained a genuine friendship with her.
She watched his smile fade when he saw her saddened face. He was one of her customers during the day, but at night she was his and she wished she had what was due to him.
"Do you have my payment this week?" he asked softly, but by his solemn tone she could tell that he already knew the answer.
Norah shook her head, hanging it with embarrassment. He sighed lightly and without her asking, he lit the lamp that hung outside the tavern door.
He removed the torch and noticed what she had. "Is that the sweet bread?"
"Yes," Norah nodded, her voice lifting with mild hopefulness. "Will you take it instead of coins? I will pay you as soon as I can."
"Norah… I can't keep accepting bread," he told her begrudgingly.
"I know— but I promise you will get your coins," Norah told him.
"You said that last time as well…" Guang pointed out.
She shriveled up at his words and nodded her head in defeated understanding. After a minute, he heard him move to take the bread and placed it in his bag. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile and brought out the package of meat, fruit and the spices she had requested. He grasped her hand and placed the items in her hand. She almost burst into tears at the gesture; she felt like a beggar and before she could object to his kindness out of guilt, he raised finger.
"I will need my coins next time," Guang told her with an anemic decree, he himself how unsure he would take no for an answer next time.
"And you will get them," Norah reassured him.
He must have been able to see that something was bothering her beyond being penniless— he always seemed to know— and asked: "Are you alright, my dear?"
"Yes, I am fine," Norah responded quietly, trying hard not to convey her stress. The baker crossed her arms across her chest and rubbed her thumbs on her across her forearms timidly.
"You just seem…"
"Did you hear I have a new customer who also likes Earthrealm drink and food?" she interrupted with bitterness in her voice. She needed to confide in someone, someone that she knew she could trust and who could see her point of view.
Guang's eyes widened with interest, "Oh. Who? Anyone I have met?" the man reached into his bag and broke off a piece of the bread, beginning to eat it as he waited.
She gulped. "Erron Black."
Guang's eyes bulged in surprise, and he choked on the bread at her words. He hit his chest with his fist, and Norah grimaced when the soggy bread came out of his mouth unceremoniously.
"Erron Black?!" he exclaimed, coughing out the words in disbelief.
She nodded. "He came here last week and demanded that I deliver goods to him every week in exchange for payment. Well… I received no payment."
Norah watched as confusion crossed Guang's face at the subtle layer implication in her voice, and she knew he had sensed it when she told him about receiving no payment.
"Norah… did you give him what he asked for?" Guang asked her, concern heavy in his voice. She didn't answer him, perhaps it was a mistake to speak about it, as if she was involving him in her affair as well without his consent. It festered in her mind like a scab, perhaps she should have just given the basket to the abrasive woman. Perhaps she should have just complied even if she didn't get anything in return. Then again, there was the possibility that he didn't care; that he had forgotten all about their arrangement. It was all she could hope for, because she feared what would happen if he hadn't forgotten their deal.
When Norah didn't answer him, Guang let out a huff of disbelief and rubbed his hands over his face. His hands left his face, and he gave her an anxious look, afraid for her behalf.
"Are you ill child?" he questioned at her with a perplexing tone, "do you have any idea what kind—"
"I know! I know!" Norah cut him off with a wave of her hand before she sighed and placed her palm against her forehead, trying to calm herself, "but he did not make good on his promise!"
Guang's face wrinkled in concern but shook his head frustrated disapproval at her. "Did you just start this arrangement with him?" Guang questioned.
"Yes."
"And were you promised payment by him?" the older Outworlder prodded.
Norah crossed her arms over her chest tighter, her brows furrowing together, and Guang knew the answer without having to ask twice.
"I see," Guang said, nodding his head as he pieced together everything.
Gingerly, he placed his hands on her each side of her face and made her look at him. "I say this as your friend Norah. I know Rhen has been causing you both problems— but do not make Erron Black an enemy as well. You both can't afford any more than what you have now."
"He is a scoundrel," was her defiant, but meek retort.
Guang shook his head at her and gave her a stern stare, "Stop with your foolish stubbornness, before you get yourself killed."
Norah closed her eyes in exhaustion, trying to comprehend and mitigate the severity of her situation. He was right, her pride had stood in her way. Perhaps, she should have given the basket and see if he made good on his promise, but it was too late to make anything right. The deadline was past, and she assumed since he had not shown up yet, he wouldn't be coming to make good on his threat. It was somewhat comforting to think that she wouldn't have to see him again, but again there was no certainty and it filled her with dread.
He removed his hands and gave her a flat smile. "I hope you find a way to remedy the mistake you made, and this will not be our last delivery. You still owe me coins."
She smiled weakly in agreement. "You will have them."
He placed a hand on her shoulder, gave a squeeze and muttered a good-bye to her. As the baker watched him walk away, she turned her tired gaze towards the palace. There was nothing that could be done tonight, instead, she would go at first light and deliver it to him. It was the only proposal that she could conjure that would possibly result in an impasse he was angry.
Better late than never; wasn't that the Earthrealm expression?
With the cold creeping into her skin, Norah walked back inside and shut the door to the tavern—locking it—before covering her yawn with her hand. She doubted she would get any sleep tonight and walked towards the kitchen to utilize the spices Guang had given to her.
As Norah approached the bar, she heard the three familiar knocks at the door once again.
Knock-Knock-Knock!
She smiled lightly at them, it wasn't rare that Guang would return and knock on her door a second time. Discarding her new items on the bar, she walked over to unbolt the door.
She found no one.
Her brows knitted together in confusion, and she looked to the right of her to see her friend's torch walking farther and farther away from the tavern down the sandy street. Perhaps she was more tired than she thought…
With a slight feeling of apprehension, she closed the door and locked it behind her once again before she made sure that she had locked the window as well; she did. The baker exhaled and scratched the back of her neck before she decided to dismiss the entire thing and walked back towards the kitchen.
Knock-Knock-Knock!
She stopped in her tracks when she heard the sharp knocks coming from the back door of the tavern, just beyond the door of the kitchen. She felt terror crawl its way back up her throat, choking her for a moment, when she knew for certainty that this couldn't be her friend.
Her eyes landed on the candlestick as she entered the kitchen, turned to her left and looked hesitantly at the old wooden door that led to the outside.
Norah's eyes landed on the knife that sat on the counter next to her and grasped it in her hand. With the small knife in one hand, she tiptoed towards the door. Unlocking the door with sweaty palms she swung the door open with her foot, causing the door to bounce on the outside and swing slightly back at her.
Once again, she was greeted nothing but the cold round ceramic bread oven, her herb garden, the laundry line with their clothes and her mother's tombstone far away to the side. She grabbed the handle and closed the door, breathing haggardly as her nerves began to tremble.
Norah jumped at the sound that came from the front door.
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!
After a few seconds, she felt a flame of anger and annoyance light up inside her and instead of fear she marched with determination out of the kitchen and to the front of the tavern. She set the candle down on the bar and stormed towards the door, unbolting it with haste and swinging it open.
Nothing.
With frustration, she slammed the door and bolted it shut, leaving her hands braced against the door as if she expected someone to come and knock it down.
Norah breathed heavily, her head hanging between her arms as she tried to calm herself before she heard the small gust of breath blow out the candle behind her. She closed her eyes as dread flooded her.
The baker removed her hands from the door and stood straight. Her eyes still closed as she heard the heavy footsteps walk casually and purposely slow towards her; making sure every footstep echoed loudly on the wooden floor.
She opened her eyes and shifted them to the side when she heard the steps stop right behind her, and she could feel their eyes bearing down at the back of her head and swallowed nervously. The baker gripped the knife in her hand a little tighter when she heard the familiar and displeased drawl of the man she suspected was behind her.
"Drop it, before I make you," Erron Black commanded.
She voluntarily let go of the knife and listened to it clatter to the ground, trepidation engulfing her when she heard how angry he was and swallowed nervously.
"Didn't I tell you that you wouldn't like it if I had to come back here," he reminded, his tone low and unmistakably serious.
A small, nervous and barely audible, laugh escaped her. She had no false bravado to counter his words and she felt her chest tighten in genuine fear, knowing that she would be paying for her mistake before she had the opportunity to correct it. She decided to try and smooth things with him and found her voice again, her words a pathetic babbling.
"Y-You didn't pay…"
"Shut up."
Norah did just that. She felt his footsteps approach closer until she could faintly feel the hard wall of muscle from behind. His intention was clearly to intimidate her, and she had to agree he was doing very well at it.
She was very aware of her shaky breathing picking up in speed before she felt his hand come over her shoulder and grasp under her jaw. His fingers dug into her face, and she found herself cringing at his touch. Regrettably he turned her, so she was forced to face him, and when she saw the stern look in his eyes, she wanted to melt into the floor.
Norah looked at his hand and saw that he had already grabbed the bottle of whiskey, the very same one that she had left in the basket when she returned home.
She felt him grip harder on her chin; a silent command to look at him and make sure he had her full attention.
Norah could see the outline of his hat and could barely make out that he was wearing a bandana over his face, and despite the darkness, she could see his blue eyes boring into hers from his mask of kohl.
"I'm only gonna say this once, so you better be listenin'," he began, his eyes narrowed at her like a demon, "You don't make the demands. I pay you when I feel up to it with a price I feel like payin'. You are nothing more than an errand runner with a shit-hole bar that happens to have something I like. I wouldn't burn the only bridge you have, if I were you."
Norah's eyes narrowed at his blunt words and despite the hand on her face, scowled defiantly at him. She tried wiggling out of his grip but hissed in pain when he brought her a little bit closer, causing her hands to wrap around his wrist instinctively. He brought his face closer to hers, his hat shadowing her like a thundercloud as he tilted her face up to meet his.
"Next time I have to come back here, we won't be havin' this conversation," he concluded darkly before he let go of her face.
She stepped away from him and rubbed her jaw; massaging it as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a bag. She could hear the contents clink together, and she looked at between him and the bag suspiciously. Erron reached in and grabbed a single bronze coin and using his thumb, flicked it at her which she managed to catch despite the darkness.
"I think I'll hold on to the rest," he said with a cold sense of humor, placing the bag back into his pocket.
She glared sourly in his direction as he passed her and unbolted the door. He stood there for a moment with his back to her before he looked over his shoulder, tipped his hat and told her with mock sincerity: "Have a good rest of your night."
Norah watched as he closed the door behind him before she looked down at the insulting bronze coin in her hand and felt her face twist in anger as she stared at the coin.
As if it was burning in her palm, she flung it away from her as hard as she could and heard it hit the wall before she grabbed a fistful of hair. Her hands pulled at her scalp in anger, and she screamed through her teeth as quietly as she could without trying not to wake her father.
A Week Later...
Erron returned to his room late to find a cloth sack waiting for him on his table.
Smirking knowingly, he closed the door behind him. It seemed his most recent visit to the tavern had finally beaten some sense into the sarcastic bartender.
He placed his hat on the table and pulled apart the strings to see a round loaf that looked more desirable than the sweet loaf he had sampled and a bottle of whiskey.
He nodded in approval and looked inside and found something he had not expected to find. Curious, he plucked the folded piece of paper and opened it and scoffed humorously at what was written.
You may keep the bag.
He crumpled the note and let it fall to the ground before he grabbed the whiskey and retreated with it to his bed.