Following her injury, Casey stays at the inn for two days. Her sister allegedly comes by to visit the first night but during the supper rush. Derek misses meeting her. The rest of her party visits as well.
Then, there is Nora. She's cheerful, clearly compassionate, looks a bite like Casey, and Derek is terrified of her.
"So," she says, when they meet, "you're Derek."
Unsure of what to do with this information, his mind goes a bit blank. Has Casey been talking about him? He's so busy processing what that could mean that their encounter is not his finest hour.
Paul also stops by both days to check on Casey. She's not thrilled about his instructions for her to take a small break from adventuring. There's a lot of fuss around it.
"You've gotta listen to him," Derek overhears Sam telling her.
Ralph tries a similar approach. "Paul knows what he's doing, Boss."
It only servers to irritate her further. Casey is in a mood when Derek stops in her room to visit on the second night. He's barely stepped over the threshold, and she's already glaring at him.
Ignoring the death stare, Derek drops onto the chair and bites into an apple. "I think you should go back to adventuring."
The glare turns to suspicion, eyes narrowing at him. "Do you now?"
"Yup." He takes another bite of the apple, ignoring the look as she waits for him to elaborate. He makes her wait, taking his time to chew his bite of apple. "Your sour mood is really bringing down the atmosphere of the place—" she snorts "—it's really affecting my business."
"I'm preventing you from conducting business?"
"Mhm. People walk in and can just feel your attitude. Plus, if something happened to you while you were off gallivanting about, I'm sure a bunch of people would get a kick out saying, 'I told you so.'"
Her eyes narrowed.
"And, obviously, you want to send your very kind mother into an early grave from excessive worry about her eldest daughter."
"Alright." Casey tosses her hands up. "I'll take some time off, jeez."
Pulling an apple from his apron pocket, Derek smiles and extends it to her. "You should do whatever makes you happy." Even if everyone would prefer that she keep herself in one piece, ultimately, it would be her choice. "But there's nothing wrong with letting yourself heal a bit."
She stuck her tongue out at him.
"You're a child."
She grins. "Maybe I've been spending too much time with you."
"Whatever herbs Paul has you on has clearly addled your brain if that's the best response you can come up with."
Pointing to the door, Casey's smile widens. "Get out."
The next morning, Casey checks out. He sees her talking to Emily, and he makes his way over. "How much do I owe you?"
"Well, for two days—"
"I've got this one," he tells Emily, stepping up to the counter. She shrugs and moves away. "It's already taken care of."
"What do you mean?"
"Your room has been paid for."
Casey narrows her eyes at Derek. "By who?"
At the time, it had seemed like a good idea to write off her room. Casey is a hard worker, she sends most of her money to her family, she'd been injured, and—
And Derek is making excuses because he wants to do something nice for her for no reason (aside from the obvious). He shrugs.
"Mhm." Taking a second to dig in the leather pouch hanging from her belt, Casey throws a couple coins on the counter. It's too much. When Derek slides them back to her side, her shoulders square. Planting her feet to stare him down elicits a wince, but she remains standing tall. "What? Not enough?"
More coins are added to the pile. Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, it's—"
Casey drops more coins on the counter. "Your rates are insane."
"Your room is paid for," he insists.
She gestures to the pile of too fucking much money on the counter. "I should hope so."
"No—" Derek heaves a sigh. "Why can't someone do something nice for you? Why do you have to make it so difficult?"
Her face darkens. The coins disappear into Casey's leather pouch with one forceful sweep of her arm. "I'm making sure that I'm not taking advantage. I just—" She bites her lip.
Five seconds pass as they stare at one another before Derek reaches across the counter, covering her hand with his. Her hands are rough, worn from a life of adventuring. How many years has she been doing this? There is so much about Casey that he wants to know, wishes she wanted to tell him.
Casey exhales slow, dropping her gaze. "I'm sorry. I have been told that I'm stubborn."
"Can't imagine anyone saying such a thing about you," he deadpans.
"Shut up."
She cracks a smile, and Derek gives her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. "I just figured that you have stuff going on, and this was an unplanned stay. I wanted to help."
"Okay." Derek's brows shoot up, and Casey ducks her head. "I mean," a full exhale, "thank you."
"You're welcome."
Two days later, Derek goes to visit her. He considers waiting a few more days, but knowing that she was in town, that he could possibly spend time with her before she goes out again; it seemed worth the risk. He's already shown his cards anyway.
There are three tailors in town. All Derek does is ask around, and he finds the one Nora works for. Her face is expressionless when she recognizes that it's him standing in the shop. Inexplicably, Derek is nervous.
"She's not here." Nora doesn't look up from her work, violently cutting through a strip of fabric.
"Oh, I didn't think she'd be—I assume she's resting."
Nora looks him over, takes in his fitted clothes and empty hands. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Derek considers leaving without pushing this any further. Casey doesn't owe him anything; he could be embarrassing himself by reaching out to her. On the other hand, he thinks of 'touché.' "I was hoping you might consider telling me where I can find Casey." He pauses. "And if you think she'll want to see me."
A smile cracks the façade of stoicism. "Maybe you aren't entirely awful."
He blinks. "Pardon?"
"I worried about you, but here you are giving her agency." Unimpressed, Nora brandishes her scissors at him. "I've heard stories about you, the innkeeper who gets around. I've nothing against a single person meeting their needs. My concern, however, lies in the trail of broken hearts that could replace every street in this town."
That seems a bit harsh, but Derek figures it's warranted. "Is this the part where you threaten me if I hurt your daughter?"
"No, no." Smiling, Nora shakes her head. "This is the part where I warn you. Sometimes people wind up with broken hearts; that's the nature of relationships of all kinds, but Casey is good at her job. If you lie to her, it won't go over well with Casey. She can take care of her own problems. If you take advantage of her, if you become her problem, she's the one you will have to answer to."
He believes it, too, and that's more terrifying than having to face Nora—though, she's also not someone Derek wants to run into if things go tits up. "Understood."
When he doesn't move, Nora returns to her project, measuring out her fabric. "She might have trouble admitting it, but I think she'd be happy to see you."
It means everything, assuming Nora knows her daughter as well as she seems to.
"Why is that?" When Nora looks confused, he continues, "why does she have trouble admitting things?"
Nora sighs. Drops the measuring tape in her lap and takes a few seconds to consider the question. "It's a complicated answer."
Frowning, Derek nods. Of course, he wants more, but he can respect Nora's loyalty and the complexity of the issue. He thinks back to her disappointment at being told to take a break from adventuring, at the way she had a hard time accepting the free room. "Seems like she has trouble appearing weak or like she needs help." Not that he, or anyone in their right mind, would classify Casey as weak.
"That sounds accurate." Nora fiddles with the measuring tape, studies him with a similar accuracy; it feels like she is measuring him. "You should visit her. Having some company might do her some good."
Nora gives him the address and shoos him from the shop when he tries to give his profuse thanks. Casey's capable of making her own decisions would stubbornly stand by a decision. Still, he thinks it matters that he has Nora's approval. That's how he's taking the whole encounter, anyway. Despite Nora's thoughts on the matter, though, it occurs to Derek that Casey may not be thrilled to see him.
This worry becomes even more pronounced when she has an arrow pointed at his chest.
Despite her being confined to a bed for two days and knowing she's injured, Derek still expects to see her clad in leather armor. Instead, Casey's outside clad in simple linens, a quiver of arrows on her back, an arrow nocked in her bow and aimed at a painted target.
He waits until she lets the arrow fly, watching as it landed off-center with a thud. She grunts. At first, Derek assumes she's frustrated at missing, but when her hand goes to her side, he thinks the pain might be a part of it. Casey reaches for another arrow.
"Hey."
That's how he finds an arrow pointed at his chest as Casey whips around. Even as she recognizes him, she doesn't lower the weapon. "Are you stalking me?"
"No?" It's not intentionally a question, but he's not sure he has much of a leg to stand on, seeing as he did track her mom down to find out where she went.
"Convincing."
"I asked your mom if it was okay, first."
Thankfully, the arrow is lowered. Casey grins a little. "I planned on coming by."
The admission feels like flying—or, rather, like what Derek imagines flying is like. "How come you didn't?"
Tucking the arrow away, Casey shrugs. "Want to come inside?"
He goes inside. The house is warm, welcoming. It's a bit cluttered, too, but he thinks it's nice. They sit by the hearth, talking until Nora gets home. He learns how painful her father leaving was, learns she likes the color purple, learns all kinds of things about her. It's no longer a give and take, no longer a competition. Derek no longer feels like he must earn the information. They simply… talk. He shares things, too. Talks about how hard he worked to open the inn, how he likes meeting different people, and that's where the idea came from.
It's nice.
Nora shows up and invites him to stay for dinner. He gets to meet Lizzie—thinks that she and Edwin might make good friends.
The sun is dipping below the horizon when he finally leaves.
"Thanks." Casey leans on a porch post for support, arms crossed.
"For what?"
"Not insisting that I sit and do nothing all day."
He smiles. "I don't think you'd listen even if I had insisted. Besides, I think you know your body's limits better than anyone else."
"I'm not overdoing it," she promises. Casey seems eager to assure him. "And I appreciate you not hovering."
"Your aim might be a little off," he laughs at the glare she shoots him, "but I'm pretty sure you could hit me either way."
"Probably," she agrees.
They stand in silence. Having spent most of the day there, Derek knows he should leave.
He doesn't move.
"Thanks for coming, too."
"Mhm. Although with the greeting you gave me, I'm not sure you're in any position to judge the way I run my inn."
When she laughs, Casey's head tilts up toward the sky. It's a full belly laugh; loud, a little awkward, wholly amused. He loves it. "You caught me by surprise. Anyway, your livelihood depends on how you treat customers. Very different."
"You can come anytime, you know if you want. Even if you aren't passing by with your friends." He looks past her to the door. "Would get you out of the house, at least."
"I'll think about it." She smiles at him, and it sounds like a promise.