#i needed practice

Yiuling packed soup, honey, chamomile tea, a couple of sweet buns, a heavy yak-fur blanket, a goat-fur scarf, and a pair of red and white socks made with all the love she could muster (and all the Spring fur she could brush out of the grandcubs). Yiuling had packed the perfect ‘get well soon’ care package and Adarlassa felt entirely prepared to tend to a sick friend. Now all she needed was the sick friend!  ... and, standing in said friend’s bedroom, Adarlassa could easily conclude that the sick friend was missing. Or, at the very least (and the very worst, she hoped) just gone for a minute.  No matter, she thought. She could and would wait.  Minutes turned to an hour, and Adarlassa, out of boredom, began unpacking the goods. As she did, she noticed the faintest layer of dust on the furniture. In the back of her head she could feel Yiuling’s ire rising like the sha to steal her soul should she place her dishware on that chest of drawers.  “Mama, it’s just a little dust,” she whispered to no one as she set the sealed bowl on the bed and pulled out a rag and Yiuling’s own homemade cleaning spray. A little citrus oil for cleaning, a little white tea for smell, and a lot of Pandaren moonshine for sanitizing.  After the chest, she moved on to the window, then the bed, then the floor, because why not. By the time everything was scrubbed and shined, Irielle still wasn’t back. So, to distract herself from her worry, she scooped up the bedding and made off to wash it. She remembered enjoying a nice clean bed to be sick in, back when she could get sick. If nothing else, it would be a nice treat.  Two hours later, the bedding was washed and dried with the help of Luu’s magic, and promptly replaced on the bed with the new yak blanket, scarf, and socks laid out near the pillows. Luu was wiggling about under the sheets to warm the bed. The food was set out on the chest of drawers. All the room needed was one sick Irielle.  And yet she was not there. With a loud sigh, the demon hunter dropped herself into the corner and pulled her legs up under her. A little meditation to pass the time and calm the mind would do her some good.  It was dusk when she brought her focus back. Still, no sign of the elusive Not Girlfriend.  “Okay!” she growled out, spooking poor Luu who had fallen asleep under the covers. He poked his tiny head out with a loud but short hiss. “Something’s wrong. I should have known. I should have done... something. I don’t know.” Without any further thought, she leaped out the window with Luu quickly following behind her. He took his place on her shoulders when she landed. By the time her feet touched the ground, she was already heading to the bar.  Unfortunately, Irielle wasn’t there, either. Or maybe it was fortunate because it meant she wasn’t sharing germs with patrons which meant Adarlassa wouldn’t have to scold her and carry her off.  The fellow behind Irielle’s bar was... likely not new, but he was new to Adarlassa. They met each other with equally curious looks.  “Evening. I’m looking for Iri. Do you know if she’s around here anywhere?” She asked. The man didn’t stop wiping the glass in his hand.  “No,” he said simply.  “... no, she’s not around or no, you don’t know?” “No.”  “... what?” Ah, wait... Irielle was known to get up to some trouble on her off time. Maybe this guy, not recognizing Adarlassa, pegged her for being the trouble retribution type? “... everything’s fine. I’m a friend. I’m just looking for her because I’m worried.”  “... she’s not here.”  “Well, yes. I noticed. That’s why I’m asking. Do you know where she is--” “No.” The quickness of his answer suggested otherwise, but Adarlassa could only assume he truly did not. After all, it was Irielle.  “... what about her uncle? Brother?”  “No.”  “... okay, fine. How about someone who can actually help me find her?” “No.” By the time he finished the word, someone else had approached the bar for service. Adarlassa sighed loudly and ducked out again. 

He sat at the bar. He always sat at the bar, he felt it gave him the best all-round scope of the place, especially facing the bartender, who obviously had good reason to keep his eyes peeled, watching the patrons for trouble. Gotta protect his livelihood, doesn’t he? 

Just so happens that in a bar unofficially dedicated to military and vets, a lot of people had the same idea, so people there by themselves for a quiet drink had more or less flocked the stools, while groups took up tables or circled the pool table or dartboard. Sebastian didn’t care much, there was one stool left, and he liked company, so he didn’t mind the men around him. 

It was only once he ordered that he noticed the face on the guy next to him, looking like a kicked puppy, gaze trained to the drink he was nursing, moving the bottle in tiny circles on the bar to make what was left of it swirl. What can he say, Sebastian is a sucker for a shit story. Always makes him feel better about himself, and sometimes it can come in handy to fix someone’s problems, make them feel indebted. 

He nodded at the barman again and indicated the guy next to him, “get him another, too, would you?” the old guy frowned for a second before he was able to process the accent and he nodded, throwing back a “sure thing, buddy,” in some thick Jersey brogue that even baffled Sebastian for a second. His eyebrows flexed upwards, but he slid money across.