The cloth ran along into the crevices, before once more being hung onto the racks, “Aye, that’s I. What can I do you for sir?”
He was a hairless man, to the point he lacked eyebrows. But what was missing in hair was made up in tattoos. Snaking across exposed knuckles, of diving birds and swimming fish; forearms and biceps, ships and sails, crashing waves and the native elements; even his scalp with a map spread across it of some far off land guided by a compass rose. The smith blinked, paused, chin lifting to drink in his height – a giant that seemed to almost hunch in her workshop.
“You are, eh? Good,” A smile flashed, stained yellow teeth while the eyes squinted down. He was at one of the counter now, standing the other side of it. It reminded her of Corwynn, and for a brief moment she would have guessed the man to be a bad brother. But he seemed too comfortable. He cleared his throat, “The good sir Gentleman sends his regards, and here to serve as a reminder of you to maintain your tasks.”
Gale frowned, “I what now?”
Knuckles pressed onto the worktop, form hunching down as he came to her height. He breathed in her face, an arid scent following his every word, “No need to play coy now, girl. We know who you are, we know what you do and your little half-life...”
An unpleasant chill travelled down her spine then. Standing opposite him, the smith scratched at the marks in the surface. A stimulus that was to serve as some temporary distraction. He continued, “And that to keep such from spreading further, to do what is assigned to you.”
“It’s not going to be like the thug last time is it?”
He would have raised an eyebrow if he had any, “thug?”
“Yeah, started trashing my place because I couldn’t get him a pack of tobacco quick enough.”
“You mean Rasten… yes he is quite demanding. Doesn’t understand the tact of the deal like people such as ourselves. Fortunately, I am much more accommodating,” he growled, “But I still keep my promises. And you, I suspect you’re very interested in staying on the side of our law.”
One of them. Threat holder. He knows I’m female and a bunch of other information. But what exactly? Has he only been told enough or..?
“So here’s what you’re gonna do-”
“I’m not doing your work,” Gale looked at him from beneath her brow. Jaw set into a line, body tense and waiting to spring into action.
The Tattooed man sighed, “Let’s try that again...” Wood groaned beneath him, “Because I don’t think you quite understand the situation. There is a steel mill, one you frequent Prise and Co-”
How the fuck?
“-You’re trusted there, loyal customer – I’m certain you’d be able to acquisition us some information. You know, stocks, clients, ledger-”
“I said I’m not doing your work.”
He sighed, deeply. Fingers pinched upon the bridge of his nose, a deep inhale as he looked to compose himself, “You are going to find them, copy them and then return them to here, where we will collect-”
“No, means no. I am not doing your work-”
“-and we will spare you for another day,” The orbs, a hard and dark brown stared upon her. Unflinching as he peered at her, “Which, I am sure you will not refuse.”
They were threats, empty threats of violence and spilling out secrets, if she did not start holding her ground now they would keep picking away until there was nothing left. It was little more than surrendering to an unknown variable, and her father had taught her better. The smith squared their shoulders.
“I refuse.”
“Final answer?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head, “A shame.”
The hand whipped out quicker than expected. It struck upon the back of the head in the broad arc, pushing her face towards the counter. Fingers knotted into the hair, a firm and blunt slam of features onto the surface. Gale barely managed to inhale a gasp before the face was forcibly struck against it again, and again, and again. Pain turned into numbness, blooming into a rich searing heat. She felt the blood, nose erupting with colour as a wet gurgle escaped. Hands did not find purchase as the brute grasped upon the counter, full weight beneath it and promptly flipped it towards the smith. Wheezing, the force sent them buckling as it promptly landed on top of them and began to crush.
Coughing as the counter closed in on their ribs, they watched the tattooed man lean down onto the table edge and press. A small curl of the lip, he flexed his fingers as the expression of the smith twisted. Eyes watered, teeth parting as they spat out a globule of blood. The tattooed man tutted, “Such a shame indeed. Just had to agree then this would not have to happen. I’ll… send the bad news to our gentleman friend on your behalf that you were not willing to assist in our endeavours.”
A firmer, harder press. Gale choked a noise at him, “F-fuck you.”
The counter was pressed harder, forcing her fingers to try and pry it off, “Now, no need for that. I gave you a chance, you declined this generous offer. And now? You stew within the consequences of your actions,” he laughed, a scraping, scratching noise as he released the pressure. Her lungs sucked in the air, the rushing buzz to her head muffling the sounds of him leaving, “Perhaps next time you’ll be more compliant. And maybe, we’ll become much better acquainted.”