Despite her concentration on the footfall steadily gaining on her, the
forceful hand that landed on her shoulder startled her into a rigid stop.
This was what she had feared. In her anger, she had lashed out, and now
came retribution. There was no Zidler or Chocolat here to protect her, and
his vice-like grip left little room for hope in a lesser action. Her eyes
scanned the ground, vainly searching for anything that would help, but she
came up empty.
The grip on her shoulder shifted and instinctively she looked up, locking gazes with the man. All thoughts of deception or pleading vanished; pushed aside by the cold lump that had settled in her throat, weighing heavily on her heart. Terror engulfed her, thicker than any smoke or fog even Montmartre could produce. It clouded her senses, transforming the man before her into a monster; impossibly large eyes that burned with demon fire fixed above a cruel, unflinching sneer.
Yet seconds, then minutes passed and nothing happened. No raised fists or angry words. Even the once painfully tight hold on her shoulder had slid down her arm and became a comforting hand in hers. Cautiously, the wave of dread receded, and before her stood not a monster, but once more a man. One who looked as though he was caught between concern and confusion, all the while whispering reassuring words to her under his breath. Finally accepting that nothing more was forthcoming, Nini released a breath unconsciously held and wiped away the tears that had formed in her eyes, trying valiantly to compose herself.
Without warning, the man moved, pulling her along behind him. Before she could protest, he looked over his shoulder and, catching her eye, said, "You look like you could use a drink," and gave her a quick smile. She hadn't realized they were so close to it, but looking ahead she saw the familiar sign proclaiming Bar Absinth. Music from inside drifted out to greet them; a carefree melody whose lyrics were lost in a sea of voices. Wild laughter and calls for more drinks dispelled any hesitations she may have had, as the familiar atmosphere enveloped her.
As they passed through the doors, words of welcome erupted and the man greeted them with an extravagant bow, obviously an age-old joke between the friends as they returned the gesture grandly. As for Nini, she waved flirtatiously at some familiar customers, but on the whole walked silently forward. It was common knowledge that on the rare occasion that a Diamond Dog did lower herself to drink among the ruffians, it was always in a pack. The idea of one consenting to going out alone was preposterous.
Oblivious to the unabashed stares of his fellow patrons, the man led Nini to a recently vacated tabled in the corner and returned shortly with a bottle of Absinth, a tin of sugar cubes, trowels, two glasses, a match box and a jug of water. Silently, each went about the preparation of their drink. Under their careful ministrations, the oily liquid transformed into an opaline green, and, with a silent toast, they took their first drinks.
The grip on her shoulder shifted and instinctively she looked up, locking gazes with the man. All thoughts of deception or pleading vanished; pushed aside by the cold lump that had settled in her throat, weighing heavily on her heart. Terror engulfed her, thicker than any smoke or fog even Montmartre could produce. It clouded her senses, transforming the man before her into a monster; impossibly large eyes that burned with demon fire fixed above a cruel, unflinching sneer.
Yet seconds, then minutes passed and nothing happened. No raised fists or angry words. Even the once painfully tight hold on her shoulder had slid down her arm and became a comforting hand in hers. Cautiously, the wave of dread receded, and before her stood not a monster, but once more a man. One who looked as though he was caught between concern and confusion, all the while whispering reassuring words to her under his breath. Finally accepting that nothing more was forthcoming, Nini released a breath unconsciously held and wiped away the tears that had formed in her eyes, trying valiantly to compose herself.
Without warning, the man moved, pulling her along behind him. Before she could protest, he looked over his shoulder and, catching her eye, said, "You look like you could use a drink," and gave her a quick smile. She hadn't realized they were so close to it, but looking ahead she saw the familiar sign proclaiming Bar Absinth. Music from inside drifted out to greet them; a carefree melody whose lyrics were lost in a sea of voices. Wild laughter and calls for more drinks dispelled any hesitations she may have had, as the familiar atmosphere enveloped her.
As they passed through the doors, words of welcome erupted and the man greeted them with an extravagant bow, obviously an age-old joke between the friends as they returned the gesture grandly. As for Nini, she waved flirtatiously at some familiar customers, but on the whole walked silently forward. It was common knowledge that on the rare occasion that a Diamond Dog did lower herself to drink among the ruffians, it was always in a pack. The idea of one consenting to going out alone was preposterous.
Oblivious to the unabashed stares of his fellow patrons, the man led Nini to a recently vacated tabled in the corner and returned shortly with a bottle of Absinth, a tin of sugar cubes, trowels, two glasses, a match box and a jug of water. Silently, each went about the preparation of their drink. Under their careful ministrations, the oily liquid transformed into an opaline green, and, with a silent toast, they took their first drinks.
