Caina was saved from answering the loaded question by Tom’s arrival. She didn’t move as he entered, didn’t say a word; just remained knelt on the ground, eyes on the bandage as she finished wrapping it. She refused to look up, too terrified by what she’d see. Hatcher had never looked one of her victims in the eyes before, not really. Not when there wasn’t the shroud of darkness to separate them. And Ava’s backroom was too bright, especially for this time of night. Too warm, too cozy.. too much.
She still didn’t move, even as she heard the clink of glass against the wooden table, even as she heard him walk away and shut the back door behind himself. Only then, once she was sure that they were alone, did Caina glance at the table, recognizing the red ship and black sails on the label. It had been a common drink in the Rose, and one of the only ones that Caina had been able to stand when she’d first started drinking, at that age of 13. She’d never taken a liking to alcohol, hating the way too familiar numb sensation it spread over her limbs. Caina liked to be in control of her body. But when she did drink, Tom had always kept a bottle of Long Haul in the cabinet for her.
She stood suddenly, pulling her gaze away from the bottle and Ava’s now-hidden wound.
But Ava’s question still hung in the air, and Caina took several deep breaths as she thought.
With that, Caina grabbed her cloak, tying it around her throat but leaving the hood down. She stuck out in the harsh lamp light of the room, but would disappear as soon as she went out the door. Caina paused at the door, glancing back at Ava where she sat, and nodded at her before walking out. It was the best she could do, lest she break down there in that room. An apology, a thanks. A way of telling Ava that she wasn’t angry with her, that she wouldn’t tell Serro or anyone else what had happened this night.
Ava might notice that the bottle of Long Haul had disappeared from the table, only a small circle of rainwater left to show it was ever there.
Once outside, Caina shut the door and paused, quickly scanning the darkness for the new familiar form of Vauquelin. She stepped quickly, not caring whether he noticed her approach or not, and leaned against the brick and vines at her back. There was a quiet pop as she opened the bottle and then silence as she drank from it. Then, words. Well, word.