Leopold's eyes followed Sarah until she slipped out of sight. He then looked down to the key she'd left in his hand. What in God's name is about to happen to me? He shuddered, turning towards the bar, and began walking in an almost dream-like state. He passed through the crowd with ease, ignoring all conversations that didn't involve him, even when he overheard snippets that could prove useful to the gang later on. He sidled up to the bar, staring down the bartender that had given him such a smug look earlier. Part of him wanted to show the boy the key he'd received, and boast of his invitation to Sarah's private quarters. However, his Pride left him almost instantaneously, when he considered the circumstances, and how he was certain the rest of the evening would go. She's going to hate me.
"What'll it be this time?" The bartender approached him, wiping off a glass with a rag. "Brandy, or wine again?" He didn't seem to be upset anymore. In fact, he almost appeared to be glowing. His smile was relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted from him, and he seemed genuinely happy to be doing his job.
"Actually, I was thinking of a shot of whiskey." He checked his watch; the poker tournament was due to begin in four hours. Looking around, he noted that many of the guests in the ballroom were already well past the point of intoxication.
"Cheap and harsh, or…?" The young man set a shot glass between them.
"Whatever you recommend for a quick burst of courage." The two locked eyes, then, and Leopold could almost see the tranquility that had settled over the other. That, and the redness in the whites of his eyes. "Erm, are you feeling alright?"
"I'm great!" He laughed, then flipped a glass over his shoulder, spun around, and caught it with three fingers. "Your friend – Sarah – she and I talked for a little bit, and let me tell you, mister, she's a real catch." He turned towards the shelves of liquor, scanned the whiskey section, and settled on a bottle just below the top shelf. Twirling it between his fingers, he smiled wider, then flipped it over his shoulder, spinning around just in time to catch it. Somehow, in the span of a few seconds, he'd managed to open the bottle, and pour a shot. With the same fluid motion, he resealed and replaced the bottle, then spun back around on his heel, stopping in place.
"I…" Leopold touched the shot glass, hesitated for a moment, then picked it up. He brought it to his lips, but didn't drink yet. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm feeling better than I ever have before, mister!" The other laughed heartily, then leaned on the bar. "Like I said, Sarah and I talked. She understands things that no other woman I've ever met seems to get. She's…well, she's very wise." His eyes darted to another couple of customers waiting at the other end of the bar. He nodded once, then turned and flipped two glasses, caught them, and within a span of seconds, had them filled and slid down to his customers. They tipped him handsomely for such a performance. "She told me I should focus on my passions, and one of my favorite things happens to be serving drinks. So, she suggested that I make it an art, and damn, mister, she's onto something!"
"She certainly is," Leopold sighed, setting the glass back down, still waiting to take the shot.
"Look, mister," the bartender leaned in as close as he could, lowering his voice. Not only were his eyes red, they were glazed over. "I'm at the point where I can admit that I've spent a fair amount of Time being selfish and arrogant. But, she helped me realize that a lot of it was me being uncertain about what I want in life. My parents wanted me to be a lawyer, you see, but I've never wanted that. She told me to start thinking about what makes me happy, and honestly, I'm happy doing what I do."
"I…I'm glad you feel that way." As much as he appreciated the young man's newfound enthusiasm and sense of purpose, he couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable at that moment. Holding his breath, he knocked back the shot of whiskey, then shuddered. He never liked whiskey; too many nights trying to keep up with Dutch and Hosea in their prime had led him to many hangovers, and foggy half-memories. As far as he knew, he'd never done anything wrong or stupid whilst under the influence, unless drinking far too much counted.
"Who knows, mister? Maybe she'll have some good advice for you, too." The bartender looked up from a pyramid of shot glasses he was stacking, and grinned when he noticed a group of half-drunk patrons approaching him for more. "Looks like I'm gonna be busy for a while. Take care, mister! Maybe I'll see you later." With that, he was off to tend to his next customers.
Leopold sighed, leaving money for the whiskey, and a three dollar tip under his glass before stepping away from the bar. His heart thudded wildly, his head swimming as he waltzed back through the ballroom, and up the stairs. I don't know if I can do this. A knot formed in his gut, tightening gradually as he ascended. Recalling the paths he took to look for Sarah, and to gather information, he paused. Wait…306? Fishing the key from his pocket, he turned it over, examining both sides. The number engraved on the head was indeed 306, but he'd only passed rooms numbering in the 200s at most. Just as he moved to put the key back in his pocket, a sharp jolt surged through his head. He snapped his eyes shut and groaned quietly, rubbing his temple. Another vivid memory pushed itself to the forefront of his Mind. This one nearly sent him over the edge; he wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or cry, but the sensation of a boot crushing his windpipe came rushing back to him, along with everything else about that fateful day. He grabbed frantically at his neck, as though he were 13 again, lying helpless on his back, trying fruitlessly to pry a man's foot off of him.
I can't do this! He clutched his chest as his heart leapt and stuttered. Turning around, he had every intention of returning to the bar to drown out the memories, yet he refrained. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a door whose number began with a 3. Hesitant and trembling, he started slowly towards it. 301 was the full number; he turned his head to stare down the corridor, unsure of how he'd ever missed it in the first place. Sure enough, as far as he could see, the numbers continued to go up, and the doors were relatively far apart. He sauntered down the hall, his body propelled forward, despite his trepidation. At the very end, with no other way out but back, he found room 306. Raising his hand, he almost knocked, but stopped himself short, remembering the key in his pocket. Pulling it out, he stared at it for a long moment. I have to do this. Sighing in resignation, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.
He found Sarah stretched out on a chaise lounge; she'd changed into a short, black silk petticoat, which showed off her muscular thighs, and a white top that exposed her midriff, and much of her breasts. She turned her head to face him, and gave him a broad grin. The whites of her eyes were slightly reddened, and she held a wooden pipe in one hand. The smoke rising from it almost smelled like a skunk, yet she smoked it with a certain zeal that made him wonder what it could be.
"Just as I was wondering if you'd actually show up." She smirked at him, clearly teasing, but it struck a nerve with him nonetheless.
"Why is that?" He grunted, stepping forward clenching his jaw. "Do you think I'm soft-willed? Or, as the Americans say, 'yellow?'" Looking her over, he gulped, staring her down hungrily, forgetting his initial irritation. He had to take a step back and look away, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Gott verdammt, Sarah! You're not making this easy for me!
"Not at all, honey!" She laughed, grunting softly as she pushed herself upright. "I actually think you're quite brave for taking the plunge into the unknown – and with someone who's little more than a stranger to you, no less." Patting the spot next to her, she grinned at him, waiting for him to take a seat. Although still hesitant, still somewhat fighting the urge to turn around and walk out, he sat next to her. Their legs brushed together, and he tensed up, nearly scooting away. Meeting her eyes, he gulped, imagining himself leaning over to kiss her – imagining her kissing him back. Before he had a ghost of a chance to ask why she'd invited him to her room, she offered him the pipe, and a broad, toothy grin.
He stared at the charred, green substance suspiciously. When he didn't take it from her, she hit it again while the coal was still rolling, and held in the smoke. "What have you been smoking?"
"A wonderful plant called 'marijuana," she explained, exhaling slowly away from him. The cloud appeared large enough to fill a quarter of the room, and Leopold found himself impressed with her yet again. She coughed a couple of times, then passed him the pipe once more. "It's not for everyone; I won't push it on you, but the offer will remain open."
"So…what exactly does it do?" He took the pipe this time, cautiously, as though handling a venomous reptile. The smell, although pungent, relaxed rather than agitated him. He confessed internally that he was definitely curious about it, but decided to wait for Sarah to tell him more before trying it.
"It causes one to get 'high,' like how alcohol makes one drunk, but the feeling is not the same. It can be quite relaxing, and can even help with the management of certain ailments of the mind and body. Some, like myself, also use it to assist in meditation." She waited; Leopold glanced back and forth between her, and the pipe, contemplating whether or not he wanted to try it. She made it sound rather nice, so what harm could there be? He began to raise the pipe to his lips, but stopped when her hand fell softly over his wrist. Their eyes met again, and his heart leapt into his throat. "I must warn you, Leopold, that some people experience anxiety from smoking. Racing heart, strange feeling in the gut, tremors like chills throughout the body…I promise that nothing is actually wrong with you, should you feel these things, and it will pass eventually. And…" She looked down for a split second before lifting her gaze again; a hint of sadness touched her eyes, and her voice. "No matter how it affects you, I will look after you until you're sober."
"You would do that for me?" She nodded, and he cast his eyes between her and the pipe once more. His heart sped up a little in anticipation as he made his decision. Letting out a little huff, he straightened himself out. "Okay. How do I do this?" She directed him with great patience, explaining how to use the carb, and how to properly inhale the smoke. Once assured that he understood the method, she struck a match, and brought the flame to an untouched corner of the bowl, charring the fresh herb. He followed her instructions to the letter, except for the part about only taking a small hit for his first time – if he had to confess, it was because he wanted to impress her. He doubled over, coughing hard, the plume of smoke engulfing both him and Sarah. She patted and rubbed his back gently, giving him a somewhat worried smile. Taking the pipe from him, she ripped it one last time, and set it down, away from them both.
"Are you quite alright, Leopold?" She offered him a glass of water, which he drank gratefully as his coughing fit ceased. He nodded, slowly turning to face her, a wide grin stretching across his face. She giggled, and he followed suit.
"This is nice," he let out a long breath, somehow feeling both weightless and anchored at the same time. His eyelids grew heavy, and his shoulders relaxed. Before he could realize he was leaning over, he slumped into her, resting his head on her shoulder. His heart jumped, and he nearly pulled away, but Sarah's arm was already around him, holding him close, and rubbing his arm.
"Relax, Leopold," she sighed softly, laying her head on his. "Ride it out with me."
