Talk to her, of course.

You tell her that your contract didn't really go as you had planned it. You go into a regular spiel. She listens intently; her eyes are trained perfectly on yours. She seems to be enjoying the story of your last contract, despite it not going so well. The sense of adventure and bravery she gathers from your account appears to get her high almost. When you mention how you first lost control of the situation, she seems to lean in, like a child would do when listening to a story. Does she really enjoy it this much?

Delilah then asks if you'd like to have something to eat. You perk up a little bit and ask if you have to pay. She giggles and winks, telling you that the management wouldn't notice if a steak or two went missing. She stands up abruptly and walks over to the kitchen. You only have to wait a few moments before Delilah returns with a plate and some utensils. The steak is cold but looks to be well-seasoned and considerably fresh.

"Oh boy. Leftovers?" you sarcastically remark. "Thanks, mom."

Delilah blinks as her cheeks turn slightly pink. "I wouldn't make that good a mother. I'm still too young. Not to mention..." she covers her stomach with her arms and trails off before she finishes her sentence. Eventually, however, she brings herself out of her trance and forces a smile.

"Uh...well, whatever...it's all that’s left anyway! I'm pretty sure they were going to save for the morning for, um...the breakfast menu or something. I don't know, and I usually work the night shift." Delilah wasn't much younger than you; she was well into her 20s. Perhaps having a family to her seems taboo? On the other hand, you hadn't seen many kids in these parts, so maybe she heard something or had seen something that scared her. Whatever the case, it didn't feel like you knew her well enough to dive into a touchy subject, so you started to eat instead.

She watches you eat. You inquire her if there's something to drink. She perks up and nods. "We have wine."

"Red wine?" You ask. She nods again.

"Nothing management will notice missing..."

As long as she doesn't get into any trouble...She splits from the table and grabs a bottle and two glasses. She opens the wine and pours a glass. If there was another steak, and they were both recently cooked - this would almost seem like a date. But instead, she drinks and talks to you, keeping you fair company as you consume the steak.

"So, I've been wondering," she swallows and then waits for you to do the same before continuing. "What is it that you do, exactly? I know you're a contractor, but doesn't that make you basically a mercenary?"

Being a contractor, now at least, meant you were a strange mix of a soldier and investigator. You had the pleasure of deciding who deserved a broken nose: Who was wrong, who was right. Collect debt, provide personal security, work in teams, find thieves, missing persons– dealing with problems that required both a mind of muscle. Delilah is once again captured as you explain some of your other contacts and bounties. The times you nearly failed, the times you did fail, and the repercussions for doing so.

Honestly, talking about your line of work was quite depressing. You started to remember the people you had worked with. Most of the lot either got killed or mangled– captured and never seen again. The times you killed someone– the times someone almost killed you. You become hollow-eyed as you stare into the glass. Thank God you're not drinking alone...You fill her glass after filling yours. This time, she half-reluctantly accepts it.

Despite being a barmaid, you notice that her cheeks are already starting to burn a rosy red, and she's failing to maintain her usual girl-ish composure the more she drinks. Finally, she clears her throat and stands up after the second glass, prompting you to ask if she's feeling alright. "Ahh, yeah! I'm doing OK. It's just that I don't drink that often– that's all."

You apologize and ask if she needs to leave. Her eyes widen, and she suddenly yelps for you to stay. Her eyes advert someplace else as if she's about to beg. "No, please! Can...Can't you keep me company while I wash the counter? I don't like being alone! Plus, there isn't anyone else around to talk to." The one bottle you had is empty, so you don't think she's too drunk. Keeping her company until she finishes her tasks wouldn't be too bad. You tell her you'd be glad to stay around.

Both of you leave the table, taking your glasses and plates with you to make your way toward the bar. She cleans them and wipes down the counter with a damp rag. You sit at the counter with your own thoughts, gathering and filing them - trying to stay awake for Delilah as she does her first task of cleaning the counter. After a few minutes, she starts to crane her neck and sigh. Again, you ask if something's the matter. She cocks her head and stretches. "My shoulders have been killing me lately. I've been working a lot." You aren't really much of a masseur, but you offer to rub her shoulders. She snickers and looks at you. "My, my...a contractor and a masseur? I'm impressed. What other talents do you have?"

You knit your brows and playfully smile at her.

Delilah chuckles at her own remarks while you both look at each other. "If you would...I really would appreciate it." She goes around the counter and sits on the stool next to you. She turns her back from you so you can massage her... Heat goes across your face. This sensation feels weird. Are you turned on? Clearly, you are... but there's something else other than lust for this girl. She lets out a satisfied groan and then laughs. "Wow! You're actually pretty good at this."

The tone of her voice is more than at any other time before. Is she lying to you? You work for your hands away from her shoulders and begin to go further down her back to do better. She tenses and exhales a little awkwardly. Mid-massage, she turns around, accidentally leading your hands to her proud chest. You both stare at each other red-faced and speechless. You both stand up at the same time. Now your face is as red as hers. Your hands recoiled as fast as you could - you didn't mean to grope her...You stammer and tell her that it was completely unintentional. She doesn't answer.

Seconds pass in silence. All you can both manage is to stare at each other. She hasn't said anything, but neither have you. You've been growing increasingly fond of her company, but you haven't thought of anything sexual or naughty with her - she was the most innocent person you've run across up here...

You swallow before you try to break this uncomfortable silence, as well as this intense locked stare you've been sharing with each other. She licks her lips and steps off the stool. For some reason, this triggers you to follow her up.

"Warren, I..." She looks away bashfully, licking her lips again. You suck in your mouth and lean forward slowly. She blinks but then closes her eyes, softly puckering her lips. She stands there like a tree, puckered and waiting for you to go the final few inches...