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assassinatesTitle: Waste
Rating: PG-13
Garrett groans with contentment as he bites into the roast chicken. It's the best thing he's eaten in forever, he decides. It doesn't matter that it's a little dry and sort of tough; it's home-cooked and he's finally inside, out of the cold, out of the forest, away from that blasted dragon his kidnappers insist on taking with them. He leans back in his chair, rejoicing all over again. Chairs! A roof!
Next to him, Chuck is unusually quiet, picking at her food. He should feel worried, but he doesn't care. Let her suffer, he thinks. But then it clicks, and if she's suffering, he'll be her victim. Great.
“Here I would have thought you would have fallen on your food like a starving wolf,” he finally comments after a mouthful of mead to wash the chicken down that stuck in his throat. “It's how you generally eat.”
He barely dodges the bowl of broth thrown at him, the hot liquid dripping on him. His heart speeds up at the near miss as he glares at the heinous woman.
“Unlike you, I have courtesy to wait for Shelby,” Chuck snaps, practically snarling at him.
Garrett pauses. He had noticed her slip away after she had brought up the idea of staying at an inn in this small village. In fact, he was pretty sure, now that he thought about it, that she hadn't even been with them when they had been shown to their room. This wasn't unusual to him, though. The odd woman often slipped away from them during their travels.
“I'm not going to wait for her,” he states stubbornly, and nearly chokes at the look he's given. Chuck is poised to stand up when the door opens and Shelby slips inside.
He realizes it's the first time he's ever really seen her with her hair down like that, wet and tangled as it curls around her neck. She's wearing fresh clothes, nothing he's never seen her have before. His stomach tightens a bit, and he almost pushes his plate away when she sits down next to Chuck, her hair slipping enough for him to spot the purple bite mark on her neck.
Chuck touches her hair, frowning. “It's wet.”
Shelby bites into a roll. “He wanted to bathe me afterward. That's what took so long.”
The older woman makes a face. “That's better than some of the others you've slept with, at least.”
There's a faint smile on Shelby's lips. “It was nice.”
Garrett stares between them. “Are you saying that she...” He can't even find the words. Sure, he's had sex with more people than he can remember. But prostitution? No, never that. He's never sold himself, never had to pay for it.
Chuck whips her head around to glare at him, as if to say not to speak up anymore. Shelby continues to eat slowly, occasionally glancing at him. There's no shame on her face. More importantly, there's nothing on her face. Not satisfaction, not humor, not regret. Garrett looks down at his plate, the food he's already eaten churning his stomach.
“Eat,” Shelby finally says. He glances up at her.
“I'm not hungry.”
“Oi, look,” Chuck grunts. “What Shelby did, she did for you, princess. So don't waste her gift to you. We didn't have to come to this place.”
“It's not a big deal, Garrett. You might as well enjoy this while we're here,” Shelby says in a flat tone.
Chuck gives him a final look before digging into her food, and he wonders how it is that she's come to this, to not caring what her friend does with her body, selling herself for disgusting chicken and itchy sheets over hard beds.
She watches him a little longer, dark eyes impassive until he finally gives her a charming grin and sets himself up to somehow swallowing dry poultry.
Rating: PG-13
Garrett groans with contentment as he bites into the roast chicken. It's the best thing he's eaten in forever, he decides. It doesn't matter that it's a little dry and sort of tough; it's home-cooked and he's finally inside, out of the cold, out of the forest, away from that blasted dragon his kidnappers insist on taking with them. He leans back in his chair, rejoicing all over again. Chairs! A roof!
Next to him, Chuck is unusually quiet, picking at her food. He should feel worried, but he doesn't care. Let her suffer, he thinks. But then it clicks, and if she's suffering, he'll be her victim. Great.
“Here I would have thought you would have fallen on your food like a starving wolf,” he finally comments after a mouthful of mead to wash the chicken down that stuck in his throat. “It's how you generally eat.”
He barely dodges the bowl of broth thrown at him, the hot liquid dripping on him. His heart speeds up at the near miss as he glares at the heinous woman.
“Unlike you, I have courtesy to wait for Shelby,” Chuck snaps, practically snarling at him.
Garrett pauses. He had noticed her slip away after she had brought up the idea of staying at an inn in this small village. In fact, he was pretty sure, now that he thought about it, that she hadn't even been with them when they had been shown to their room. This wasn't unusual to him, though. The odd woman often slipped away from them during their travels.
“I'm not going to wait for her,” he states stubbornly, and nearly chokes at the look he's given. Chuck is poised to stand up when the door opens and Shelby slips inside.
He realizes it's the first time he's ever really seen her with her hair down like that, wet and tangled as it curls around her neck. She's wearing fresh clothes, nothing he's never seen her have before. His stomach tightens a bit, and he almost pushes his plate away when she sits down next to Chuck, her hair slipping enough for him to spot the purple bite mark on her neck.
Chuck touches her hair, frowning. “It's wet.”
Shelby bites into a roll. “He wanted to bathe me afterward. That's what took so long.”
The older woman makes a face. “That's better than some of the others you've slept with, at least.”
There's a faint smile on Shelby's lips. “It was nice.”
Garrett stares between them. “Are you saying that she...” He can't even find the words. Sure, he's had sex with more people than he can remember. But prostitution? No, never that. He's never sold himself, never had to pay for it.
Chuck whips her head around to glare at him, as if to say not to speak up anymore. Shelby continues to eat slowly, occasionally glancing at him. There's no shame on her face. More importantly, there's nothing on her face. Not satisfaction, not humor, not regret. Garrett looks down at his plate, the food he's already eaten churning his stomach.
“Eat,” Shelby finally says. He glances up at her.
“I'm not hungry.”
“Oi, look,” Chuck grunts. “What Shelby did, she did for you, princess. So don't waste her gift to you. We didn't have to come to this place.”
“It's not a big deal, Garrett. You might as well enjoy this while we're here,” Shelby says in a flat tone.
Chuck gives him a final look before digging into her food, and he wonders how it is that she's come to this, to not caring what her friend does with her body, selling herself for disgusting chicken and itchy sheets over hard beds.
She watches him a little longer, dark eyes impassive until he finally gives her a charming grin and sets himself up to somehow swallowing dry poultry.
