A bar, Alys Brangwin thought, was supposed to be a place of relaxation. A place where she could go, take a load off her feet, hoist a glass or two of something alcoholic to pleasantly numb the senses without shutting them off entirely, eat food that probably wasn't the best for her but tasted too good for her to care, and to swap stories and jokes with good friends. Motavia's most celebrated Hunter spent enough time in the field being harried by vicious biomonsters and even more vicious criminals, and she wanted the promised release from that stress that the local tavern offered. She figured that her fellow patrons at the Hunter's Guild bar understood that, since they were almost entirely hunters as well.
Unfortunately, not everyone was looking for the same kind of release and relaxation.
"Yeah, no, the last time I tried opening that at random, I was hoping for treasure but what I found wasn't even worth the effort to undo the buttons," her friend Fenris was saying to a green-bearded man as Alys walked up. The man's smug confidence drained from his expression, and he turned away to go order another drink.
"Hi, Fen."
"Oh, hey, Alys!" The redhead's expression brightened. "Sit down and commiserate with me about men."
"Jason out of town on a job?"
"You guessed it. He was supposed to be back today, too. My own next job starts tomorrow, and I was hoping we could get at least one night together."
Fenris's boyfriend, Jason Cord, was another friend of Alys's and a fellow hunter. Unfortunately, that meant that their schedules didn't always match up well.
"Well, my sense of humor's better, though my company doesn't offer the fringe benefits of his."
"Deal. Besides, having you around helps to thin out the number of drunken idiots who either don't know, don't care, or don't think I care that I'm in a relationship."
"I'm glad to help," Alys said, then thought about it for a second and added, "even if I'm not sure I understand how."
Fenris grinned.
"What, do you think someone is going to butt in on Alys the Eight-Stroke Warrior to hit on the lady she's talking to?"
"Fen, you of all people should know better than to use that stupid nickname with me!"
"I know, but it really gets the point across. You are my armor against dumb pick-up lines."
"Why do they call them that, anyway?"
"Pick-up lines?"
"Yeah. I mean, has there ever been a woman—or even a man—in the history of the world who was actually impressed by the cleverness of a pick-up line to the point that it made them agree to being picked up?"
"You mean, in a situation where they wouldn't have also agreed if the person had just come up and said 'I think you're cute; would you like to dance?' or whatever?"
"Right. There's nothing about pick-up lines that help you pick someone up, so why do they call them that?"
"I'm probably going to be bugged by that for the rest of the day, you know."
Alys smirked.
"Consider that your payment, then, for my services in shielding you from idiots."
"Hey, Alys, babe!" a voice suddenly boomed out, reminding Alys that the "shield from idiots" effect did not work in both directions. She glanced over her shoulder, confirming that her ears had not lied and Joss Howland was on his way across the room towards her. Joss was a fellow hunter, a mass of muscle—especially between his ears—and was particularly persistent in his affection for Alys.
Said affection most definitely did not run the other way.
"Hello, Joss."
"Did I ever tell you how it's easy to tell you're the best hunter around? 'Cause you're the only one who was able to capture my heart!"
The line might have produced a pained groan in Alys. However, perhaps because he'd had one too many drinks, Joss made the cardinal error of slinging his arm around Alys's shoulders as he came up next to her at the bar. Alys had a bright-line policy: she'd listen to stupidity, but touching was out of bounds. Even as Joss's hand settled on her right shoulder, her own hand came up to grab his, her leg swept back against his ankle to break his balance, and she pulled him forward so he did a full front flip over the bar, crashing through the row of bottles on the shelf behind it and slamming down onto his back.
So the line did produce a pained groan, but from Joss instead.
"I'll add the damage to his tab," the bar owner commented. Garn had been serving hunters long enough to recognize cause and effect when he saw it.
"At least he helped you answer your question," Fenris said, "since his line definitely got him picked up."
