Many thanks to anybody reading this drivel. As always, the Night Angel Trilogy belongs to Brent Weeks. Best of luck to you all.
"Something got you down, friend?" The rotund barman glanced over at the shadow in the corner, as Jason downed yet another pint of cheap beer in a dark tavern on the outskirts of Cenaria. A cursory glare put paid to the unwanted probing, and Jason returned to nursing his drink. Something had got him down indeed. His once flawless record now had a single black mark against it. He had missed his mark; the golden eyed priestess had somehow survived his shot and was now crusading around Cenaria with her enslaved husband proclaiming the evils of prostitution, drink and violence, the pillars of Jason's life. She couldn't try to ruin his life more completely if she'd aimed for him specifically. Of course, that was unlikely; she had forgotten him completely and had only seen an object of revulsion when he'd fired instead of an old memory. Jason finished his last drink, paid his fare, and disappeared into the night. She intrigued him; after all she clearly wasn't scared of him if she was advertising her survival to the entire world. The damage to his dark legend was nothing compared to the blow to his personal pride. Had… emotions caused him to miss his aim? Did he have feelings anymore? Jason had assumed any emotion beyond the thrill of the chase and of the kill had been worn away, leaving only a perfect killer behind. What if he was wrong? What if he still cared? He stalked back to his house, back to his isolation and his private thoughts, back to what might have been, all those years ago.
Gwen smirked at him from her chair, his dark frame devoid of its usual arrogant pose, the polar opposite of her playful posture, her legs crossing in the seductive manner only a woman such as she could pull off. "So let me get this straight hun… You have girl troubles? And you came to a whore for help?" she teased, watching with girlish delight as his arms flexed and he growled in annoyance. "No Gwen, I need to know if I'm getting soft. If I'm having feelings. What with all your 'partners', I figured you'd be an expert on putting aside feelings to get the job done, as it were" Jason snarled back, every syllable a veiled threat. The red-haired prostitute's eyes narrowed as she glared at him, otherwise she ignored his hostility. "Well, you're as violent as ever, so I wouldn't worry", she spat back, turning to an ornate desk and retrieving a letter from it. "Speaking of which, you're needed by someone" she threw the letter at him, only feeling mild irritation as he plucked it from the air calmly, and read it. "This says I'm going to be away for years, all across Midcryu. Are you going to be able to survive without me?" His sarcasm stung Gwen, but her response hit him harder. "That's ok you bastard, you always leave women…" Any further remark was halted as Jason spun on his heel and exited the room, slamming the door viciously as he left without a word.