It was not a good day.
It was not a good day at all. Leander’s hand had been physically shaking when he tried to forge the latest commission from Corwynn. He had tried three times and had given up on the forth. It just wasn’t happening. The passive wasn’t sure why, but he suspected alcohol… or alcohol withdrawal. To be honest he was drunk so often nowadays that he couldn’t decide whether it was the drink or the lack of drink that was causing him to lose his faculties.
Either way, he had stormed from the Attic in search of functioning grey matter, and had found it in the form of the delightful Henrietta, a wonderful woman who was quite happy to spend an hour or two challenging Leander to a game of card with her friends. The problem was that Leo had no money to buy into the game. Henrietta had offered to stake him, and he had gladly joined in. And, with each passing drink, the game became more and more fun. Until it wasn’t fun anymore. He had not the funds to pay back Henrietta, let alone deal with the crippling debt of the hand he had just lost with.
Making promises to have the money brought to the tavern by midnight the next day, Leander had headed to the bar, demanded one final - far stronger - drink from the barkeep, which he insisted was to be added to his already extortionate tab. He had downed the drink in one and left the tavern without glancing back at Henrietta and her friends.
He found himself walking aimlessly - and surprisingly unstaggeringly - in a meandering path around the Harbour. The world spun whenever he quickly changed direction, so he tried to walk in as straight a line as possible, but inevitably he ran out of road and eventually had to turn a corner every so often. Hands in his pockets, he stared at the cobbled streets rather than looking at where he was going. It wasn’t until he found himself outside a rather dilapidated building that he actually looked at where he was.
He was on the coast, by the beach, staring up at one of many houses that were seemingly abandoned. Sherry’s Peninsula was once probably the most beautiful part of Old Rose Harbor, but it was long since left to rot, which was a shame, truth be told. Of course Corwynn would remain to live in houses that were designed and built for gollies. Other abodes in Ol’ Rose were not nearly half as nice. Well, now they were, but Leo liked to imagine this place in its hey day. It would have been remarkable, he was sure.
His heart stuttered in his chest. He did not want to be here of all places. He cursed his feet for leading him directly outside the fecking right hand of Silas Hawke’s home. He had been here a few times in the past, on various jobs for the Bad Brothers, and each time had been as surreal and frustrating as the last. He hated the golly.
Yet here he was. He hadn’t finished the commission for Corwynn yet. He had barely started. And it was due in two days. He didn’t know where he would find the time… well he did… he just didn’t know where to find the sweet spot where his hands would stop shaking.
Muttering darkly to himself, he trudged along the wooden walkway leading up to the house and, after one final hesitation, he removed a hand from his trouser pocket and banged it against the door. Sighing, he accepted whatever mood Corwynn would be in, he would just have to deal with it. But he had no other option. He was employed by the Brothers… and he didn’t want to go directly to Hawke, so Corwynn was the next best thing. The only option, really. He had been dragged out of debt by them before. There was no reason why they wouldn’t do it again. The passive would just have to prostrate himself, if that was what Corwynn wanted.