The pair received their wine, and took to leaning comfortably against the bar as they continued their conversation. They spoke freely of their various adventures; some exciting, some dull, and others full of suspense. Sarah had roamed much of the other side of the world. From the steppes of Mongolia to the mosques of Jerusalem; from the highlands of Scotland to the dense jungles of the Congo, she'd traveled with monks, beggars, warriors, scholars, thieves and traders alike. Leopold envied her for seeing and experiencing so much, but she was quick to remind him that he, too, had experiences that she likely never would. He conceded to her point, and reminisced about his early years with the Van der Linde gang; life was far simpler before the government began to tighten its hold on the American people. Unlike Dutch, however, he didn't long for a – he believed – overly-romanticized and bygone Era, which had been done to death by clueless novelists. In his eyes, the "Brave New World" was little more than opportunity at the cost of many compromises.
"Compromises?" Sarah tilted her head, arching a brow. "How do you mean?"
"You know how it is," he shrugged. "There is no taking anything without giving something in return. It all depends on what someone wants, and what that something is worth to them. For example, you can't start a business without spending money first, and usually a lot of it."
"That's very true," she nodded, eyes turned to the ceiling, her expression thoughtful. "But at what point do 'compromises' become crimes against one another? When does the giving stop, and the taking become the only thing one does?"
"I'm afraid I don't follow," he rubbed his chin, digesting her words slowly. "If they're compromises, how can they become crimes against each other?"
"Like how the U.S. Government has decided the Fate of the indigenous people of this land, regardless of negotiations, treaties, and basic human decency." Her tone turned firm, her jaw rigid, and a fierce gleam crept into her eyes. Leopold flinched; she softened immediately, offering him a little smile. "Forgive me, Leopold. I don't mean to frighten you."
"You haven't!" He waved it off, trying to reassure her. "Once more, you have surprised me, Sarah."
"How so?"
"You have no national, political, or economic ties…and yet, you are compassionate towards those you don't even know. Why?"
"Because no one ever asked to be born," she shrugged, taking a small sip of wine. "No one gets to determine the circumstances of their Creation. No one ever came into Existence with the expectation that they would be made to fit into anyone else's mold, regardless of one's circumstances, or what one may choose for oneself."
"That…that is very profound." He watched her closely, taking a moment to let her words sink in. They made some sense to him, but also made him uneasy in a way he'd never experienced before. Whenever Dutch started spouting philosophical nonsense, he did his best to tune it out. After a few years on the road with the charismatic leader, he learned that Dutch was of a certain temperament; he could not be swayed from his convictions, unless someone or something powerful came along that shook his foundations and forced him to learn a new Truth. Leopold sensed that sort of "powerful" within Sarah, and it frightened him, almost as much as it enticed him.
"I suppose I can tell you what really drew me to the American Southwest." She glanced at him, taking in his inquisitive expression. "I didn't lie. I really do want to see if it's somewhere I'd like to settle down. However," she leaned in close, lowering her voice. Her lips parted, her eyes darting down to his for an almost imperceptible moment. "I've been following rumors and leads about a hidden tribe, doing their best to stay out of the line of fire. I want to meet them, and help them stay hidden."
"Well…how good are your leads?" Leopold shifted in his seat, unsure if he should even try and deter her. She held a unique strength about her, one he'd rarely, if ever, seen in other people. A part of him genuinely believed that she would be able to accomplish whatever she set her mind to. However, another and far more uncertain part of him feared that she'd only be putting herself in danger. For the most part, he knew the lay of the land, and she was barely even a tourist. "How can you be sure your information is reliable?"
"The ship captain that brought me to Saint Denis mistook me for one of them." She leaned closer still, and he suddenly became aware of her perfume. He took in the scent of wild sagebrush, his eyes fluttering momentarily as he fought the inexplicable urge to close the gap and kiss her. Her voice shook him from his fancy. "I corrected him, of course, but he told me about the time he went for a trek through the desert with his brother…the poor man died, but the captain narrowly survived because of this tribe's intervention. He gave me a – vague as it is – a map to try and locate them."
"Again and again, you amaze me, Sarah," Leopold smiled and sighed, shaking his head. "I wish you the best of Luck, but I can't help wondering if you're not thinking too big with this endeavor."
"I might be, but I won't pass up an opportunity to thwart the U.S. Government's agenda." She gave him a playful smirk before leaning back, denying him the opportunity to steal a quick kiss. He nearly followed her, eager to taste her lips, but too hesitant to reach for it.
"I-I…" he gulped, unconsciously scooting back. His heart raced as he considered his next words, not wanting to expose himself too much, but fearing he'd already done just that. She kept on smiling at him, patiently waiting for him to continue. He looked away, closing his eyes; he saw her behind his eyelids, teasing him, tempting him to get closer. He shook his head, pushing away the intrusive, yet enticing thoughts. However, what instead jumped to the front of his Mind was far less than savory, causing him to reel, and nearly convulse in shock. The image was brief, yet one of the clearest, and most intense flashbacks he'd ever experienced. He started abruptly, hands shaking as he watched his last memory of his little sister's face bolt across his Mind's Eye. He suppressed the urge to gasp and clutch at his chest, scarcely aware of Sarah's presence.
"Leopold?" She reached out to him, taking his hands in hers, holding them tight. He glanced back and forth between their joined hands, and her worried eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a confused whimper. "Leopold, what's wrong?"
"F-for-forgive me, Sarah," he hung his head, heart racing, unable to continue meeting her gaze. "I don't know why, I just…remembered something…"
"You can tell me anything, if you feel like talking." She directed their hands underneath his chin, then lifted it so she could see his face. Her smile, warm and inviting, chased away the bitter cold of haunting memories. Slowly, he sat up straight; she pulled one hand back, then gently brushed a tear from his cheek. Letting go of his apprehensions, he began to tell of his broken home in Vienna.
"I was very young when my mother died," he began, his voice a quiet croak. "She worked herself to death in the textile mills, sixteen to eighteen hours a day, trying to provide for three children, and our father. Father had severely injured his back, and could barely even walk, let alone work anymore. One day, Mother's heart just decided it couldn't keep going, and quit. She was only thirty."
"That is terrible, Leopold! I'm so sorry…" Once again, Sarah appeared ready to cry for him; he understood, then, that it was not pity, but real compassion. He gave her a sad smile, shaking his head, unsure if her kindness was child-like and naïve, or based in the wisdom of her life experiences.
"It was a long time ago. I don't have many memories of her, but the ones I do are all good." He squeezed her hand. "For years, my siblings and I scavenged through garbage to find anything edible. It didn't help that, after our mother's death, our father gradually declined into alcoholism. When my older brother, Ludwig, turned twelve, he started beating night watchmen for scraps of food and pocket change. I used to be a nimble thief, despite my many health problems growing up – I've always had a light touch, and a good eye for people with heavy pockets." Sarah lifted a brow and smirked, then, taking a quick glance at his hands before meeting his eyes once more. He cleared his throat, the heat rising in his cheeks. "But…one day, my Luck ran out. I tried to rob the wrong person, and nearly died. After that…" He faltered, eyes cast back down to his hands, clasped with hers.
"Please, Leopold," she rubbed her thumb in a slow circle on the back of his hand, soothing his nerves. He took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders, unaware until then that they'd been so tense. "You don't need to say anything, if you're not comfortable."
"No, no…it's…it's just as well." He sighed, his eyes trained on the steady, relaxing motion of her thumb. "I was thirteen when it happened. I'd been bedridden for less than a week before my family's situation was so desperate, Father sold my little sister, Anna, into slavery. She was nine." Sarah gasped sharply and jerked, her thumb halting abruptly mid-swivel. He looked back up at her, and his heart sank as he watched the tears stream from the corners of her eyes. Her expression had become a cross between horror, disgust, and woe. "Weine nicht, Liebling, bitte!" He reached out, unsure of the reason, suddenly deciding that he couldn't stand to see her sad. She almost recoiled, eyes wide and full of apprehension; then she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes, allowing him to wipe her tears.
"I'm sorry…" She sniffed. Her voice came out as a cracked whisper. "I just…"
"No more of this topic, Sarah," Leopold interjected, offering a sincere smile. "I'm sorry I even brought it up – I never meant to upset you. I hardly ever think about it anymore, so it came as a surprise to me." She appeared ready to protest, but he held up a hand. "Let's forget about it and enjoy the evening, shall we?" She didn't seem convinced, and an idea struck him. He leaned in closer, lifting her hand and kissing the back of it softly, his heart jumping as he did. Color touched her cheeks, and she shifted, coming closer to him. "So, I've changed my mind. Would you care for a dance?" Much to his relief, her smile returned, warm and radiant, and he couldn't help but to return it in full.
"I most certainly would!" Leaving her position against the bar, she took his arm, eager to lead him out to an open section of the floor, close to the musicians, and a good distance from any of the poker tables. He was surprised to find that she was at least eight inches shorter than him; she leaned against him, one hand on his shoulder, the other clasped in his hand. She swayed her hips to the slow, steady rhythm, and he felt like a fool, rooted to the spot, unsure of what he'd gotten himself into, or how to begin leading her. "What's wrong, Leopold? Nervous?" She laughed quietly, teasing him.
"Oh, just a little," he chuckled in spite of himself. "I haven't danced since I was – I think – fifteen? It was at a small, local festival, and the only girl that agreed to dance with me ended up laughing at me for my big ears before she walked away."
"Oh, honey…" she purred, switching the position of her arms so that she held his waist, and he her shoulder. "I'll lead until you get your rhythm back…and I won't make fun of you. Promise."
"W-well…" He gulped, taking a quick glance around. Sarah had already begun moving them in Time with the music, and nearby onlookers were already giving him reproachful, judgmental stares. He nearly pulled away from her, nearly insisted that they stop, but one look into her smoldering emerald eyes, and he caved. His smile mirrored hers, wide and content. "Okay, Liebling. Show me how it's done."
"With pleasure." With that, she pulled him along; he followed her graceful, flowing movements as much as he could, ignoring snide comments from passersby. He started out slow and clunky, but quickly picked up on her cues, and how she indicated a change in direction. Eyes trained on hers, the smile never leaving his face, he slipped into a sort of trance. She grinned back up at him, pulling him closer, until their bodies formed a thin line. At one point, the music reached a crescendo, and she held him tight about the waist with her arm, lifted him off the ground and spun him around.
"O-oh my! You- you're very strong!" His heart throbbed; he didn't know whether to be frightened by her strength, or to admire it as another aspect of her beauty. He settled on the latter.
"Thank you!" She beamed, her cheeks turning rosy. He laughed as she set him back down, then stumbled into her. She held him up, and once he was upright again, he held her by the waist, earning a thoughtful glance from her. "You'll lead now?"
"If you'll have me, yes."
"Oh, I'll have you, Leopold." She winked, leaning into him as he began to pull her along. He shuddered, struggling to keep his rhythm as he once again fought the urge to kiss her. Her smile entranced him, almost inviting him to try, just to see what would happen. His fantasies were sadly cut short as his back began to protest. A sharp jolt of pain shot up his spine, connecting to the base of his skull. He half stumbled, half tripped into her; she helped him stay upright, giving him a worried look. "Are you okay, dear?"
"Y-yes…sorry." Clearing his throat, he stepped away from her, embarrassed to have kept her from enjoying herself more. "Heh…don't get old. It's terrible." She caught him by surprise by snorting, and holding back a laugh. "What?"
"Sorry, sorry! I just remembered something funny." She waved it off, taking a moment to straighten his bow tie. "So, Leopold…" Her voice dropped, becoming suave and sultry; with half-lidded eyes and a suggestive grin, she set his heart and skin ablaze. "What would you like to do this evening?" He faked a cough, trying in vain to distract himself by checking his watch, anything to stop himself from looking her in the eye. It was useless, and he knew it; he caved and met her gaze, unable to help himself from mirroring her expression. He eyed her up and down, drinking in her features, his breathing turning shallow. She leaned closer, her eyes shifting between his own and his lips. "Well, Leopold?" Her voice brought him back down to earth, and he reluctantly leaned away from her. Instead, he offered his arm. She took it with another thoughtful glance, silently inquiring his intentions.
"Would you like to get some fresh air, and continue our conversation?"
"Fresh, soupy air!" She laughed, her face lighting up once more. His heart skipped a beat as he realized he Loved seeing her smile. Something about it felt familiar, and it brought him comfort. "I'd like that. Shall we?"
