Day Twenty-Four - Evening

     Before they head off, Smith tells Rodney the druggie to go look in the backroom to see if there’s a nice vintage lying around. They might have a nice sherry or red on the shelf above the pickled eyeballs, but Casper doubts it. Rodney salutes cheerily and comes back with a surprising selection. Smith squints at the labels, turns the bottles this way and that, examining them in the light before finally picking one. “The trick to dealing with Myr is to never do it when he’s sober,” he confides to Casper. “Other than that, you gotta know how to talk to him; there’s where I come in.”

     Casper blinks between him, the bottle, and the post office, wondering what they don’t have in there.

     Rodney waves them off, Smith with bottle in hand, Casper slinking unhappily behind. Everyone turns and stares at them going off, plainly together, in the direction of the hill. They’re not even pretending they’re not gawping. The damage is done. They knew already, no point in keeping up pretences.

     Smith’s red in the face and puffing by the time they reach the manor’s front door. “What’s the matter? Can’t manage a bit of walking? Need a carriage, your highness?” Casper teases.

     “Shut your trap,” Smith glowers. “You’re breathing hard too.” He is, but not as much as Smith. “Now go make yourself scarce. I’ll pass on to the old devil he’s to tell you how things go starting from tomorrow on. God knows he should be doing a better job of it in the first place.”

     Casper ducks around the corner of the building, hears Smith rap at the door and Myr’s delight in seeing him. Apparently Smith’s been thinking since yesterday and it recently ‘occurred’ to him there were a few more details that needed hashing out, hence he came here. And look! He even brought a gift! How thoughtful.

     Smith’s laying it on pretty thick, but Myr’s eating it up anyways. While the men are drinking ‘til the sun comes up the next morning, Casper’s stuck roughing it outdoors. He’ll be sleeping in the glasshouse again tonight.

     Balor’s already inside, tending to his plants as if he hasn’t left since this morning. They freeze, both plainly surprised to see one another. “I presume things did not go according to plan?” Hazards Balor.

     “Nope,” Casper replies flatly. “You’re still stuck with me.” He slumps down on the edge of a planter. God is he sick of all this running around. Nothing to show for it today either, not a thing goes his way.

     “I do not mind,” Balor assures, taking a seat beside him. Casper sidles just a little bit further away, needing that extra bit of distance since this morning.

     “…I really thought I was gonna get out, you know,” Casper confesses, “an’ with Myr the way he is, I can’t stay here anymore. Not like this.” He rubs hard at his eyes. His voice wavers. Balor touches him lightly by the arm and Casper recoils. “Don’t!” His voice cracks. He’s making his old man’s heart bleed, but he can’t do it, knowing what Balor is. The real messed up part is that he wants nothing more than for the old devil to hold him and promise everything will be okay. He shouldn’t, but he does. The price he’ll pay for such sweet sounding lies.

     Was any of it real?

     Balor stays with him the whole time Casper tries to get himself back under control. Even hands him a handkerchief. It sets Casper off all over again.

     He calms eventually. Too wrung out for tears. Balor says he can keep the hanky. Casper shoves it into a pocket, next to his wash rag and a bread roll, and winces when he accidentally brushes against his bruised ribs. He’d forgotten about them in the earlier excitement. He pulls the edge of his shirt up to inspect the damage and hisses at what he sees.

     “Did Myr do that to you?” Balor asks in a forced, even tone.

     “Who else?” Casper grumbles, still a touch hoarse.

     “When?”

     “This morning.” Why does he care?

     Balor’s expression goes tight. “I might have something to help with the bruising,” he mentions, eyes still fixed on where the marks are, even under Casper’s shirt. He needn’t bother. Casper tells him as much. He’ll get new ones anyways. “Something to eat then,” Balor tries. But, for once, Casper has no appetite. He’s hungry to be sure, but he’s too nauseous to keep anything down. “Is there anything at all I can do for you?” He almost sounds frantic. Good actor.

     “Wanna sleep,” he mumbles. “Tired.” Already he’s fetching the blanket he keeps here for just such an occasion.

     “As you wish…” The old devil hesitates a moment. “Good night, Casper.” And with that, he’s gone.

     Casper tugs off his belt of silver and chucks it into a corner with a vengeance. All that work, all that risk, and all for a fat load of nothing. He bundles himself up and curls up on his good side.

     Thirteen more days, he thinks. Thirteen more and he’s out of here. Gone. Never to be seen again. He’s been here twice that already. He can do this.

     Casper doesn’t believe it either, but what choice does he have? It’s a coin toss whether or not Myr’ll be coming for him today, tomorrow, or maybe next week. Who’s to say? Casper’s too drained to keep stewing over every little thing that keeps going wrong. Whatever else happens, he’ll think about it in the morning.

END OF DAY TWENTY-FOUR.

<== Day Twenty-Four - Midday & Afternoon   ==> Table of Contents <==   Day Twenty-Five ==>