A/N: Without further ado, here it is! (Since you all probably want to get to it :D!)

Chapter Eight: Dale

"What are you doing here?" she asked, barely able to believe her eyes.

"Just thought I'd stop in while I'm passing through," Dale smiled. Then he laughed, taking in her appearance, "Did I come at a bad time?"

"What? No, I'm sorry I was still sleeping off last night's watch." She waved him in to her room. He sat down on the edge of her bed while she closed the door. Her mind was a whirlwind. He was the one that had said it was best if they not even visit each other! What was he doing here now?

"You have a good landlady," he remarked, reaching to pet Pounce who avoided his hand. Dale chuckled. "When I asked to make sure you lived here, she wouldn't give me any information. For a moment I thought her mute until she ordered me out of the way of her sweeping. You must pay your board on time."

Beka shook her head, smiling slightly. "No. Mistress Trout's just aware of my line of work and wishes no disturbances at her lodgings. She likes to keep the place clean."

As Dale laughed again, Beka wondered what he was there for. If he had stopped by just to chatter, he could take it somewhere else. She disliked meaningless chatter.

Seeing the look in Beka's eye, Dale shook his head, that familiar smile on his face. "I know what you're thinking. 'What is he doing here?' Honestly, I'm just passing through on my way back to Port Caynn, and I know I said about visiting but I thought, why not? Here I am in Corus and I'm stuck here until the next boat leaves at four of the clock. So, I looked you up. It's okay with you, isn't it?"

"Of course," Beka assured him. It would be rude to say no, and truthfully she had no reason to. Since they had parted ways, the hurt over the end of their relationship had ended as quickly as it came and now she just looked back on it- and Dale- fondly. It had been fun, but she had known before it had even started that their relationship would never have been a long term one, and she didn't regret one moment of it.

"Good. So where did you get that from?" he asked, indicating the bruise on her left cheekbone.

"Tavern brawl last night," she told him. "The cove that gave it to me got worse than he gave."

Dale laughed loudly. "It would have surprised me if he hadn't."

Whistling up to the door of Mistress Trout's lodgings, Rosto bowed to the older woman who was leaning out her window, cleaning the shutters.

"Good morning, Mistress. Has Mistress Cooper left her rooms yet?"

The old mot eyed the handsome Rogue. "No, not that I've seen. Of course, it's not as if I keep tabs on my tenants."

Rosto grinned, "No, of course not."

Mistress Trout nodded to the bowl of gillyflowers Rosto held in the crook of his arm. "I haven't seen you bring by some of those in quite some time. Any special occasion, lad?"

Smiling, Rosto shook his head. "Nothing unparticular, Mistress Trout."

"Uh huh," said the woman, clearly not believing him.

"Why, Mistress, you don't sound as if you believe me!" Rosto teased.

"I just haven't seen you coming around here lately, lad, that's all."

Grinning into the old lady's shrewd eyes, Rosto said, "I've been…preoccupied lately, but I feel I'll be visiting more frequently than I have been now. Beka's not the only one I miss visiting." He winked at the older woman.

"Oh, save that talk for the young mots already chasin' you," she replied, shooing him away with her hand. "I'm old enough to be your gran."

Rosto grinned, seeing the obvious pleasure in the woman's face as she laughed at him. There was a pinch of color in her cheeks and a merry twinkle to her eye. Nodding to her, Rosto headed inside.

Mistress Trout watched him go, shaking her head with a smile. Then she remembered the other charming cove that had entered her lodgings but fifteen minutes ago, asking for Beka Cooper. Whoever he was, she hoped that Rosto and he were friends.

But for some reason, she didn't think it likely.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Rosto finally stepped in front of Beka's door. He was about to place the basket of food and the bowl of gillyflowers outside her door when he thought better of it. After making sure they were secure in his left arm, he knocked on the door with his right. He was certain he heard voices inside and knocked again.

A moment later the door opened. Rosto smiled at Beka. "I brought you over some food from breakfast, knowin' you'd be hungry after that brawl last night." He didn't know why she stared at him so, but he handed her the basket nonetheless. She took it, silent and looking even a little flustered…

Reaching out, Rosto placed a knuckle under her chin so he could see her face better. He fingered the bruise on her cheekbone gently. "Nice bruise, love," he said with a grin.

Suddenly another voice laughed from within, "I would pay good coin to see the other cove's face."

Not moving his hand, Rosto frowned. Beka's eyes went wide, but Rosto didn't see it. Instead his dark eyes fixed on the young man still chuckling from his seat on the edge of Beka's bed. Rosto's face changed from confused to impossible to read. Slowly his hand slipped from Beka's face as he took in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed after staring at the cove was that the sheets on the bed were rumpled as if someone- or someones had hurried out of bed…to answer the door mayhap.

His face still unreadable, he turned back to Beka. That's when he truly noticed how disheveled she looked. Her hair was tousled and her clothes had been thrown on hurriedly. The cove had obviously had more time to right himself.

While the silence stretched on, Dale had risen from where he sat. Coming to stand beside Beka, he thrust his hand out toward Rosto. "Sorry for my bad manners. You must be a friend of Beka's. I'm Dale, Dale Rowan."

Rosto looked at his outstretched hand like it was a snake about to bite him. Seeing him standing there, in her rooms, with that grin on his face and the hastily dressed Beka beside him was too much for Rosto to take. Without so much as a thought, and quicker than a cat, Rosto pulled back his arm and slammed his fist into the man's jaw.

Dale Rowan went down in a heap.

"Rosto!" Beka cried as she dropped to the floor beside Dale. She knelt over him. "Dale! Dale, are you okay?"

"He's just unconscious, he'll come around soon, unfortunately," said Rosto with annoyance.

Beka glared up at him. "What did you do that for?"

"He finally got what he's had coming to him for a long time," said Rosto moodily.

"What are you talking about?" Beka demanded. "Dale's a fine man, unlike some people I know."

"Oh, right, and sleepin' around with other mots is what you call a fine man, is it?" Rosto's anger was beginning to boil over.

"Rosto, Dale can do whatever he wants with his life. We're no longer together," she told him crossly.

"Oh? Then how do you explain what I've obviously interrupted?"

"What?" asked Beka, puzzled.

"Can't you see what he's doing, Beka?" Rosto said frustratingly. "He's pulling you along with the rest of his mots waiting for him to show up on their doorstep again. And when he does, he's all apologies and tender words, just to get back in your arms again!" He waved his hand around the room. "And from what I see, his little game worked!"

She was about to ask what he spoke of when she saw his eyes flick over her sloppily attired form. Finally realizing what he was implying, Beka said in a clear, hard voice, "Nothing happened here, Rosto. Dale showed up at my door not fifteen minutes before you did, and all we did was talk. Nothing else."

He scoffed. "Then mayhap with a few more minutes of his honeyed words, you'd be tellin' a different tale," he said scornfully.

"What do you think I am?" Beka asked slowly, his comment fueling her anger, "Some naïve country gixie that has less brains in her head than the animals she tends? I'm not stupid, Rosto. I'm my own mot and I can take care of myself."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Beka," he replied harshly, offended that she had thought such a thing. "You're one of the smartest mots I know." Then he pointed his finger at Dale, "But I also know his kind, Beka. Once the likes of him start talkin', mots fall in a line behind him. When that happens, they string you along with the rest until they grow bored with the others and come runnin' back, only to leave again."

Beka glared at him, saying coldly, "You can't judge others by yourself, Rosto. Dale Rowan is a better man than you think. Not everyone's like you."

Rosto's eyes flared with fury.

For a long moment they stood matching glare for glare. Then Dale Rowan began to stir on the floor. Rosto's smile was cold and humorless. "Then take care of your darlin' man, Beka, and protect him from the likes of me. And tell him if he's got any sense, he'd best be on the next river boat out of my city."

He stomped to the door and had just yanked it open to leave when he remembered the gillyflowers crushed in the crook of his arm. "I almost forgot, these are for you," he said tersely. Not wanting to be reminded of his good mood from before, he put them on the floor next to the door. Straightening, he looked back at Beka once more, his mouth tight. "I hope you feel better."

Then he turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

A/N: I'll update soon! Rosto sure know how to pack a punch, doesn't he? ;D