The Rooster Crows at Midnight

[Red]

Ymiden 75th, 718

Auya slowly walked from the bar to a nearby table of men playing some sort of dice game. She struggled under the weight of the tray laden with the full flagons. Both of her eyes were still black from the latest beating, and so much of her body hurt. Her ribs had been cracked, she had a bruise on her hip that was making it hard to walk. She'd been attacked so many times during this season so far, and it didn't look like it would be letting up anytime soon. After all she was an easy target.

But she still needed to work, and her forge was seeing a down tick in business. After all, no one wanted a redhead making their tools and repairing their hinges. The only business she maintained were those too desperate to go anywhere else, or the truly stalwart type of Winemoore native, ones who were loyal beyond a fault. At least at the bar she wasn't assaulted. The owners would never stand for that. It was a nice reprieve, even if she wasn't making much in the way of tips. But it was better than nothing.

She had been resigned to mostly clearing tables or dealing with those too drunk to see what color her hair was, as most of the patrons requested Lydeya, the blonde, big titted bimbo with a habit of leaning too far forward. It didn't bother Auya, this place was a sanctuary to her, and hopefully she could get home tonight in one piece. She set the drinks down one by one on the table, and not a single man even looked at her. Coins were handed out, placed upon her waiting tray. Exact change for the drinks. She thanked them with a nice smile, and returned to the bar, dropping the money into the chest.

She saw Corrine's tea cup on the edge of her booth's table, and went and made another for the co-owner. The pair of old women were always patient with the barmaids when it came to serving them. Working behind the bar, waiting on the tea, the bartenders working around her with practiced ease. The two men never talked to her, and that was fine. These days redheads were best never seen, certainly not heard. And Auya was used to staying back and listening. She'd yet to learn anything of much use in the two arcs that was here, but she knew she needed to get embedded and accepted into the community, to wait for those sent by Faldrun to reach out to her.

Waiting for the tea to steep, she looked around. It was a busy evening for The Swallowing Rooster, with most of the tables, save one smack in the middle of the establishment filled up. It wouldn't last long. The sun had just set, soon there wouldn't be a seat empty. One of the bartenders handed her a shot of the Cloudy Vodka, "Take it. My treat. Will help you not look like you're in so much pain." She smiled lightly, wincing as it hurt to stretch her busted lips that far. She took back the shot, appreciating how smooth it was, and looked over her head. A few moments later, the cloud appeared, and she smiled just a bit more. It always amused her that this vodka did that. Her own personal rain cloud that no one else could see.

Tea ready, she saw the doors open, and hollered out, pointing at the empty table in the middle, "Seat there just for you!" She dropped the tea off to Corrine, who thanked her. Auya turned, to see what sort of newcomers had arrived that wouldn't be tipping her tonight, wearing her best, false smile, in her lavender dress that hugged her slender form, her red hair long, tumbling down her back. Just one more night. One more night and get home, and fall asleep upon her blood and tear stained pilled. That wasn't so bad.

[Varlum]

Varlum sighed in to the air as he glanced to Evianna, a small smirk spreading across his face. She looked to him with a small glance of confusion. "What?" she asked as her scaled body turned to face him, wondering what was so funny. Varlum just shook his head as a chuckle escaped him. It was hard to explain to her what was going on in his head. After all of the time the two had spent, something about her just made him happy. Perhaps as friends. Perhaps as more.
"I was just remembering the way here, slaying that monster. It's still strange to me" he chuckled and looked to her, though it wasn't the total truth. While it wasn't what was on his mind, however, he had to admit to loving the memory. One day he had been in Ivorian, unhappy and unsure of what he was - where he ought to be. But Rharne had been a home for him, like no home he had in Ivorian. One day he would return there, but for now there was no reason to. There were few people he was missing, few that missed him.

"Well, I best get going. I'll meet you back at the Inn?" she asked after a few trills of uncomfortable silence. With a small nod from Varlum the woman made her way to the small Inn they called home. It wasn't anything particularly pretty, it had to be said, but Varlum couldn't complain about it. There was enough room for the two, beds big enough to keep them comfortable and a generally nice atmosphere. Plus, it was one of the few Inns that had ceilings high enough for the pair. That was always a perk.
On the thought of low ceilings, Varlum ducked his head as he entered. It was in no way too small for him to go in to, but finding a building that was nine feet tall was hard. It meant in most places the Ithecal would be hunched over - and this was no exception. It didn't take long for him to make his way to the table a barmaid had pointed to, but anyone working in there would blatantly see how uncomfortable he was until he sat down. Even then, his head was lowered, but it was better than he expected. While the giant walked through, eyes fell on him. Some with curiosity, others with fear.

His gaze looked to the woman with red hair, and immediately saw the blackened eyes she wore. For a trill his heart paused, waiting for her to come over. As he did, his tail wrapped around his seat, keeping out the way of the men and women serving in this bar. When she eventually arrived he gave her a small glance, eyes clearly meeting hers. It was hard for Varlum, to know what to say. There were a thousand wrong things and a few right ones. But the first, he supposed, was to ask how it happened.

"A whiskey, if it's going" he nodded to the woman with a low snarl of a voice. "And an explanation as to why your eyes are so blackened, girl. Has somebody here been hurting you?"

[Red]

Auya moved toward the large, Ithecal man that had just sat down. She was immediately intimidated by his presence. For while she'd been raped and beaten this season, it had always been done by humans. If this man wanted to hurt her, she was fairly certain she wouldn't survive it. She didn't even know if her dagger could pierce his skin, or get through all the muscle to even hit something fatal. But still, she was safe enough here. While servers occasionally got into brawls, the broken plate rule often meant that those that went after them thought long and hard about it first.

She put on her best smile, her practiced smile, as she stepped into his field of vision, "What can I get ya hun?" When she heard him ask for a whiskey, "Sure thi--" He just asked about her eyes. No one had asked about any of her injuries, save Laramy, and he asked in his own subtle way. No one had cared enough to bother. "It's nothing to worry about hun, I deserved it."

She turned and left him, with a nagging thought in her mind. She'd lied to the man. She knew she didn't deserve it. No one deserved it. It was racism, plain and simple. Getting to the bar, she asked them for a whiskey. She leaned against the bar, looking back at the large lizard man. She cast him a soft smile, before turning back to the bartenders, "Make it two." They had to go into the special stores, for whiskey simply wasn't one of the popular choices, it was a bit more expensive for that as well. Not excessively so, just a bit more.

The whiskeys were brought forth, not in shots, but rather in full sized glasses, filled heavily. They were being generous, whiskey simply wasn't ordered often, so the bartenders wanted to get their money's worth. Auya carried them back to the lizardman's table, not on a tray but rather one in each hand. She passed by the other waitress, "I'm goin on break, big guy wants to talk." The other woman nodded, it was standard practice here. They could have as many breaks as they liked, so long as it involved drinking with a customer.

Auya set Varlum's drink in front of him, pulled out a chair and sat down, not opposite him, but rather to his side, on the other corner. It was more personable, the other waitresses always did it this way. She just sat there in a long silence for a bit, before taking a long swig of her whiskey, enjoying the burn it provided. "I lied to you before. I'm sorry." Her eyes were locked on her drink, lost within the amber nectar, "The people in this city... are angry at people with hair like mine. Something happened at the beginning of the season, I don't really know what, but now redheads are attacked in the open. I've lived here for two arcs, worked in my forge, lived in this alley, people liked me. They invited me for dinner. But now..."

Tears stung her eyes as she continued, "Now I'm just a punching bag and..." She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud to this man, to anyone. "I get attacked most trials. I had to take this job because most of my customers have left me. I try not to leave my home, because they only sometimes break in. Probably too much effort for them. Or out of sight, out of mind, I dunno. But I have to eat... So here I am. At least the owners let me stay extra late to do more cleaning. If i go home late enough, most of the drunks are not out in the streets. Sometimes I get lucky."

She looked up at Varlum now, tears heavy in her eyes, "But enough about me, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be rattling off like that to you. What brings you here to the Rooster? I've not seen you around. We mostly have those that live here in Winemoore, so newcomers stand out. Oh and how rude of me. I'm Auya."

[Varlum]

As the woman came over, Varlum gave her a small smile. It was hard to tell when the man wasn't trying to be intimidating, and he had no doubt about it. But if he could show people that he meant no harm then trouble didn't often come to him. It was when men and women felt intimidated that they would lash out, attack him or even go as far as to attempt his life. Of course, it was only the drunk and stupid, which meant few people acted like it. Most did the reasonable thing and avoided him. But there were always a few that wanted to ruin it as best they could for everyone else. It was always the same, even in Ivorian. There were always a few that decided it was a good idea. Seeing as Varlum was still here it could be assumed that it was, in fact, a bad one.

When she told him it was nothing to worry about, and repeatedly called him hun, he knew something wasn't right. She'd hesitated at his words, hesitated at the idea of kindness, and then claimed she deserved it. He wanted to speak up, but she had already walked away. But he had time, the man had no intention of going anywhere. So, carefully, he kept his eyes on her from across the room. Something in him felt primal, more so than the nagging spark in his chest. It was a protective instinct, one he had felt time and time before. It was rare, truth be told, but only a select few people were worthy of it. Something about this woman, the way she spoke and looked, deserved it. Something about her made the giant feel regret as if he could have saved her but didn't - and it hurt. It hurt seeing such a woman in such blatant pain, and yet persistently hiding it.

As her gaze fell to him from across the room at the bar, he didn't smile, nor did he look angry. He just looked, unable to hear her words as she spoke to the bar staff. Part of his eyes hoped she would give something away, give some indication as to what was wrong - even just a gesture. But all she did was smile, gently and sincere, before turning away. With a small sigh, the Ithecal cut his losses and glanced down at his hands, waiting for his drink to come forward - meaning he didn't notice as she came with two glasses of whiskey, both very generous glasses. When she placed down the drink, however, his gaze looked up and saw her sit beside him, not letting himself smile yet keeping his gaze warm, almost comforting.

When she spoke, he listened intently, not interrupting a word she said as she went on - until apologizing. Varlum let himself stay silent for a moment, drinking down his whiskey before talking to the woman. "I appreciate your company. But if you apologize to me again for sharing your trauma, I may have to hug you - and I don't make a habit of hugging people. Ruins the image" he started, turning his face to look clearly at her, the scar on his eye prominent. "And I can assure you now, girl, that you'll be safe with me."

Once he'd let that out the way, he offered a hand to her as it rested on the table, though wouldn't be offended if she didn't take it. Small acts of kindness, though, mattered the most to people that felt vulnerable. Knowing that someone was there is what mattered. "I'm not from here, though I intend on staying a while. I travelled from the Ivorian Empire. My name is Varlum" he admitted to her, with a small nod, finally allowing himself to smile. Varlum restrained from asking more about the attack and instead looked to her with a warmer expression. "Can I tempt you to another drink? It's on me, I would enjoy the company."

[Red]

Auya smiled at the man's offer of a hug. The image of a large lizard man hugging her in a tavern was a most amusing one. And wasn't exactly an unwelcome sentiment. She looked at his offered hand, and she reached out, and squeezed it firmly. This was the first time she'd ever touched an Ithecal. She'd seen them before, even talked to a few in passing. The hand was so rough, and firm. It had no give when she gripped it. How strong this man must be. And yet, he was just a man, with his own life. And so while his words were nice, it was an unrealistic promise. There weren't any that could protect her. That much was obvious in this city. And since she wasn't capable of defending herself, she just had to endure and survive it all.

"You're sweet, Varlum. Truly. But you have your own life, your own responsibilities, and I'm just a stranger to you. You can't be there every trill of the trial, nor would I ask that of you. I'm safe while I'm here at the bar, but I've been attacked openly in the street, I've been attacked in my forge, attacked in my home. You're kind, but there's nothing you can do. The Knights don't really patrol Winemoore it seems, and from what people say, someone with hair like mine is just as likely to be attacked by them as to be protected. So what's the point of worrying, right? It is inevitable. I just need to... be tougher. To endure it. Or drink enough to not remember..."

She let go of his hand and drained the rest of the whiskey, enjoying the burn. The alcohol settled heavily within her. Setting the large glass for such a skinny girl down, "Ivorian Empire huh? Can't say I know much about there. A lot of your kind from there? Is it..." Safer than here? "Nice?" She continued to stare down at the empty glass that she was fiddling with, "I come from Sirothelle. I don't tell many people that, for obvious reasons. I... had to leave there. My father died there. My husband died there. I needed a new start." But now I'm just wishing for my own death. "What brought you to Rharne though? Vacation? Business? And yes, I would love another, thank you, I'll be right back."

She stood, taking the glasses back over to the bar, feeling that familiar wobble kicking into her system. The numbing at the tips of her fingers. She smiled. If she kept it up tonight, she wouldn't remember anything, wouldn't feel anything. A good night. The bartender filled the glasses, and she nodded at them, returning back to Varlum, handing him his glass. She raised her own slightly, "To warm beds and hot forges." She took another deep swig, not the standard sips of someone enjoying the drink for its flavor.

[Varlum]

A small, comforting look spread across his face as Varlum looked to Auya, hand resting with hers for a while. As she explained all the reasons that she was still going to be at risk and that there was nothing Varlum could do, the man found a small smile spread across his face as he looked to her, not believing a word she said. It was true, he had his own life. But his life was different, unique. Everything the man did was for a cause very few would ever swear themselves too.

"Difficult, likely? Yes. It's all of those things, girl" he said and met her eyes. "But there is nothing on this world that is inevitable. When Immortals roam, wars are fought and magic thrives - nothing can be predicted" he said simply, but unmoving on his opinion. As far as he was concerned there was nothing he couldn't do, not if his mind was put to it. If he wanted this woman safe, she could be. But the Ithecal didn't make a habit of offering strangers that kind of protection. "I intend on protecting anyone I can. So no, I can't be there for you always. But I can be there if you ever need it. Helping one person is a start to helping everyone."

When asked about Ivorian the man chuckled. "Nice isn't the word I'd use, but yes - lots of the Ithecal come from there" he admitted. It wasn't that he disliked the city, more that it wasn't fit for what he wanted to do. His military experience had been a negative one, and the Blacksmith was the only redeeming quality of the entire city. "And I've never been, but I try not to judge anyone on their city, so you don't need to fear telling me" he said with a low, deep growl, keeping quiet so nobody would hear what she wanted to keep secret.

"I'm sorry about your father and husband" his low voice spoke, showing some level of pain to them. It wasn't that he had his own trauma, not that really bothered him. Moreso that he didn't want anyone to get hurt, didn't like the idea of it. "As for Rharne, I came here because of some complications. Few people that didn't like what I was, what I could do. Hunted me down for well over ten arcs, until eventually I gave up and moved elsewhere. Not before I met a few of them personally, though" he smirked and looked back at her, before she went to get another round of drinks. Alcohol had less of an impact on Varlum, but he could certainly begin to feel it.

"Cheers to that" he nodded and took down a sip.

[Red]

Auya drained her glass once more, the edges of her vision beginning to get wobbly. Time to get back to work. "I came and am hunted. You hunted and came. Match made in Rharne, eh?" She looked over at the other barmaid, who was staring at her now, clearly wanting her to wrap up her break. Auya nodded, "I need to get back to work. But... If you're still here when we close, I can't stop you from walking me home. If you want." She stood up, wobbled a bit from the alcohol kicking in, and caught herself against his shoulder. She smiled politely at him, before grabbing her tray, and turning away.

Maybe she could remember one good thing about tonight. She took a deep breath, and set back to work. She skirted around, busing tables of empties and getting refills. The men that would normally start getting handsy as the breaks ticked by kept their mitts to themselves. Everyone had seen her with the Ithecal. They behaved, not just for Auya, but for her workmate as well. And soon, the owners closed their books and stopped smoking, shooing all the patrons out. They didn't allow drunkards to stay the night passed out here.

Auya and her companion set about to cleaning up. She wiped down tables and seats, mopped the floors, her companion washing the windows and walls. Every night, they made the place spotless, so that every trial they kept their jobs. Auya was tired when her shift ended, a full break after everyone was kicked out. It was late, second break of the new trial. Her shoulders and neck hurt, her feet hurt. This job was by no means as satisfying as her blacksmithing. But it kept food on the table, especially while business was down.

She stepped out of the bar with her bosses and workmates. They all said goodnight and went their own ways, up and down the alley. Auya looked around for Varlum, part of her hoping he'd just leave her be, another hoping to find him there. She leaned back against the locked door of the bar, closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, as the anxiety began to rise within her. The walk home was the worst anymore. She'd have to walk past the place where the men had raped her, openly. She knew her neighbors knew about it, though of course they didn't say anything. Some of them probably even saw it happen. She'd made the mistake of thinking she was being accepted her. She was just another foreigner.

She opened her eyes once more, looking for Varlum, all of her hoping him to be there this time. To be there for her. So that at least one damn person in this town cared about her. Even if it was out of duty.

[Varlum]

When she spoke of a match made in Rharne, Varlum just gave a small chuckle and looked down to his glass. "I suppose so" he admitted, playful for a man of his size. Nobody could say the Ithecal didn't have fun every once in a while. When she went back to work, Varlum gave a small glance up at her, nodding. "I'll be there. You have my word" he assured her, before giving her a small smile as she fell in to his shoulder before leaving.

And his word was kept, although it took a small detour first. Auya had to take a while with her work, but Varlum didn't mind. Instead, he waited nearby, hoping she wouldn't miss him. It wasn't often that Varlum found himself waiting for a random stranger to walk her home, but the girl was somewhat of a friendly face towards Varlum. She didn't care what he looked like, who he was, how tall he was and what scars he had. She spoke to him anyway and even asked him to come back with her, to walk her home. Perhaps it was the good deed, at least partly. But she still didn't fear him - that was what mattered to Varlum.

Eventually, she came out, leaning back on the door as he glanced from a distance and saw her. Whatever was going through her head didn't look like something she enjoyed. But, then again, after what she described - why would she? Varlum had been an outcast his whole life, but very few dared to abuse someone of his size and strength. Those that did, thus far, didn't make it much further than where they threw the first punch. That wasn't something Varlum planned on ever letting change, either.

With a casual pace, he made his way towards her, out of the dark. "You look exhausted, girl. Which way to your home?" he asked, glancing around the area, following her when she started walking.

[Red]

Auya saw Varlum sauntering toward her and smiled. There was a comfort in his presence. No one would dare attack her while she had this mountain of muscle in her presence. She liked how he looked. He reminded her of a good forge. Most people were intimidated by them. Big, scary, full of fire. But those that tried to get to know a forge, only found power, joy, and warmth from them. As he came close, she heard his words. Calling her girl. She smirked at that, even gave a slight chuckle. Did all Ithecal think full grown women of other races looked just like girls? She wondered how old Varlum was, for all she knew, he was younger than her. What do old Ithecal even look like? They don't have hair to turn grey. Do they wrinkle?

"Hey big guy. And yeah, I'm beat. Waitressing is so much harder than working the forge. And not nearly as satisfying."
She reached out, wrapping her left arm around his hanging forearm. She was tall, but he was taller, but she was glad it wasn't too ridiculous. Walking like this was normal for her, or was, back in her Sirothelle days. She gave a tug, "Come on, I'm all the way at the end." She walked slowly down the alley, trying to just enjoy the strong presence by her side. There wasn't much need to talk during this time, and she looked to the stars. She smiled, leaning against the man's bicep, closing her eyes as they went.

But when she opened them again, she saw the spot where she'd been attacked, and immediately stiffened, clutching his arm tight. Her throat tightened, her heart racing. Her pace slowed, her feet not wanting to drag her over to the spot. It had been so many trials, and she'd had to pass it many times since then, and still, it never got easier. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping his arm tight, and began pulling him forward faster, or as fast as he'd allow. She tried to ignore the images she saw. She tried to not see the men ripping at her clothes, to not feel the kicking and punching, to not remember each one's face as they took her for their own pleasure.

Once she reached her door, she let out a gasp, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. She reached into her cleavage to grab the necklace that contained her key, she fumbled a few times to get it into the lock. She turned it and the door swung inward, silent on the perfectly oiled hinges. Looking up at Varlum, she faked a half smile, "This is my shop. Auya's Metalworks. It isn't much yet, but I got it for a really good deal. Has lots of room to grow, ya know?"

She pulled him to the door, "Watch your head big fella. Sorry, I didn't build it. You can stand up full inside at least." She showed him the entryway, which wasn't really much. It was sparse, a beaten up table on the right with a pile of ores on top of it, and a three sided box nearby, a sledgehammer leaned against it. Off to the left was a narrow metal spiral staircase. One consistent note was that the place was immaculately clean. It might be run down and old, but Auya kept it perfect. "This is where I smash down the ores, get as much of the rock away from the metal ya know. Do all my own processing. My friend mines for me. Good guy, lives two doors up. Poor guy, his wife has some sorta fear. She can't leave the house much."

She pulled him toward the open door in the back of the room, pointing at the stairs as they passed, "That's my apartment, nothing special. Through here though," She pulled him through the larger doorway that could fit him, "This is my pride and joy." She pointed at the massive forge, "Her name's Lagertha. She came with the building, the owner said she was shot, but I fixed her up good, and she works right as rain."

She pointed at a door heading further back, "More rooms back there, just storage for now, but I'm thinking maybe a shop that connects to the other side of the street there, and some more workshops. She's a fixer upper for sure, but we're gettin' there."

She turned to face him, smiling in her pride. She looked up at him, her eyes softening a bit, "Thank you for walking me home, big guy. It means a lot, really. Sorry for being hard on ya back at the bar. I'm sure you do great work as a guard." She paused, bit her lower lip as she considered a question, "Hey, I've been thinkin' of gettin' outta town for a bit. Get some fresh air. Heard interesting things about Volta. I think I'll head out tomorrow, there's supposedly regular caravans we can catch. If you need a vacation too, why don't you join me? I could use the company."

[Varlum]

Relieved to at least see her smile, Varlum made his approach until he was beside her, his face more serious than hers. As happy as he was to see the girl, there was a level of concern too. It wasn't often he would agree to just walk someone home, but she'd looked vulnerable and afraid, hurt. It was his job as a Knight, but it meant more than that. If someone was that desperate to hit someone for being different, Varlum was right here - and the first swing comes free. Same wouldn't, however, be said for the second. That one would cost.

"Very little is as satisfying as a forge" he chuckled as he linked arms with her, though it wasn't what he'd expected. All he could be thankful for was that the size difference between the two wasn't too substantial. Walking alongside any humanoid race had often proven difficult for him, at least in a way that looked like anything but a bodyguard and a customer. As the two began to walk the Ithecal glanced down to her, seeing her eyes closed with a small look of warmth in his eyes. Before she could notice, however, he kept his gaze forward to ensure nobody dangerous was ahead. Yet something suddenly felt wrong.

It wasn't something the man would comment on, but the tight grip on his arm and increase of pace said all the Ithecal had to know about where they were and what it meant to the woman. While Varlum had no idea what happened here, something had. But he wasn't going to comment, or talk, or anything but walk at the fastest pace she would go. Eventually, the woman arrived at the door to a house, one that was clearly hers, and she seemed to exhale violently before finally looking back to the man with a smile. Yet Varlum gave her a small look, one that told her he knew, yet it wasn't one of judgement. It was one of safety, as best he could relay it, one of determination to keep her safe.

"No need to apologise, girl. Half of Rharne has doors I wouldn't try and walk through. This is minor" he spoke, trying to show less of his worry and more of a fun tone. But it wasn't working. Carefully, he leaned down through the entryway and walked through to her business. Curious eyes glanced around the place as he took it all in. It wasn't fancy, not by any stretch, but it didn't need to be. It was clean, cared for and functional - just like the forge back in Ivorian. As she showed him around, he kept himself quiet, admiring it silently. But what he really enjoyed, more than anything else she showed him, was the enthusiasm she showed. It was care and passion, strong enough that made Varlum admire it.

"Lagertha. I like it" he nodded, glancing around the forge with a small smile across his face. Having a doorway he could fit through had been nice, but the forge was what caught his attention more than anything. Maintaining a smile of pride, the man turned to her and met her eyes should she look to him. "You know, girl. We had some of the finest forges in Ivorian, thousands of Nel put into them" he explained before his smirk widened. "Of them all, if given the choice, I'd choose a forge with a Smith like you over any other."

What he meant by that he left to her imagination, instead opting to turn himself to face her fully. "You didn't do anything worth apologising for, and you weren't hard on my back. Men and women are dying. I plan on helping in any way I can, you have my word. Starting with a patrol through here, just to keep an eye out" he spoke with confidence. When she offered a vacation to a place called Volta, Varlum didn't hesitate to nod. "A vacation sounds perfect. I'll meet you here if you'd like, tomorrow. Mid trial work for you?"

Whatever she answered, the Ithecal gave her a small look of confidence one last time. "If you ever need me, find me. I'll show you my house, or my patrols. I'll be there, you have my word. Alright, girl?"