We Return to the Bar

By the time we get back to Surf's Up, Cathy is shivering badly and I decide to take the booth closest to the furnace that had been my tormentor earlier.

After seating her, I stick my head into the kitchen and spot the bartender sitting on a stool with his back to the door, looking down and apparently playing on his phone. So, I decide this means that it's a self-serve bar at the moment, not that it really matters, since Cathy owns the place.

Two cups of steaming hot cocoa prepared, since Cathy is one of those barbarians that doesn't drink coffee, I return to the booth where Cathy is sitting with her hands between her legs, rubbing them together in an attempt to get warm. First, I toss her my jacket, which she doesn't even complain about. Then, I set the cups of cocoa on the table. Finally, I place the bottle of Tom Porter's Hellfire Whiskey on the table and slide in.

Cathy peers out at me from underneath my jacket, which she's wearing like an improvised hat, whilst sipping gingerly at he scalding hot cocoa.

With a sigh, I say, "So, you want to hear my story?"

Cathy doesn't say anything, but I can see it in her eyes. Those are the eyes of a hunter who has spotted game and is now determined to hunt it down, no matter the cost.

"Well, okay, where to start...," I mutter.