“So, you want me to do what?” It’s actually rather hard to hide my voice right now, even though I know situations like this require as much silence as I can muster. I just can’t hide the surprise, as I peer at the tiny women currently glaring up at me.
She puts a thin, well-manicured fingertip to her lips. She shushes me with all the experience a librarian should have, and I automatically shut my mouth. She pauses for a moment, before urging: “You have to do this for me, Bladesman. You’re the only one this poor girl can run to! You have to end the suffering. I….I’ll give you anything you want, just make it go away.”
I rest my eyes on her, biting my lip slightly. “I’m sorry, but you did make of me a very unorthodox request. I’d like to know why.”
“Five hundred grenders,” the woman snaps, assuming–albeit correctly–that some extra money would make me more keen to do as she asked.
Well, I wasn’t about to bow. Not for a mere five hundred grenders.
I’d already bought my chairs, and had been in the process of unboxing them when a messenger boy rapped on my door. It had been the young Johansson boy–the scraggly-blond little waif who somehow always knew how to find me. He’d handed me the woman’s info, and off I’d gone to see her.
So, long story short, I wasn’t looking for any more money.
Still, she looked desperate–so, who was I to judge?
“I’ll do it for seven hundred grenders.”
The woman’s eye twitched, her silver-blue eyes filling with tears for a split second. Then, she nods–“Yes….Just make the suffering end.”
I grin slightly. “So, uh, before I do this…Can I ask why?”
“I’m tired of hurting all the time. I’m tired of feeling like nobody cares about me, and that everybody who says they need me just…goes to others instead.”
I furrow my brows again. “Seems a bit light, to be worth my services.”
“Just….Just do it, before the suffering gets worse.” She’s definitely desperate now, sobbing ever so slightly.
I shrug, giving in.
“Alright, already. I’ll kill your husband for you.”