Gotris approved of Xeii's rough touch, disapproving as she did of filth. When the water had become a soup of muck, she pulled a lever to drain it, plugged the tub back up to add new water to rinse. Wasteful, some might say, but she'd never seen much point in a bath that left a person sitting in all the things they'd been trying to wash away. There was something about cities that made people forget the simplest things, from etiquette to the dangers of still water.
It was a common enough question, how and why she came to live in Akvero. It did not prickle from her in the same way that it would have from a human, or even from a city elf. She considered the best way to answer it. "The mountain didn't agree with me," she said finally, though she did not specify whether she meant the climate, the people, or both. "This city suits me better."
"As to the tavern..." Her nose twitched, an idle flicker of expression over her face that she had never outgrown. "I don't like working for other people," she said, which was putting it mildly. Any of her employees could attest to the fact that Gotris was something of a control freak.
'It's not that I want things done my way,' she might say, 'it is that I want them done the right way.' The fact that she considered these two things to be universally identical went unsaid.
"I bought the place from someone else," she said, "who'd bought it from someone else, and so on. Lots of folk realize too late this life's more work than they bargained for. It's fixed up as I like it, anyhow."
Gotris raised an eyebrow when Lis poked her head in the room. The arrangement made it impossible to see the tub when the door was opened, and so the horned nymph's modesty was safe enough. Gotris came close to take the coin from Lis and inspect herself, weighing it in her hand and considering the design of it. Rather than leave it at that, she stepped far enough into the kitchen to get a view of the bar, of the foreigner who'd brought the coin.
Ah. That ought to be fine, then.
Foreigners were common, foreign coin less so. Coin this foreign might mean trouble. A traveler with enough coin that he didn't mind spending it, and yet had not spent it in any of the cities or towns between. That could mean a lot of things; someone too rich to be staying in her establishment for any good reason, or someone who'd been on the run. Thus why she'd needed to take a look at him first.
His clothes might have marked him as fine, where he was from, but if they did they marked him as accustomed to a different kind of finery than the Akveran wealthy preferred. Certainly distinctive, regardless of class. So not trying to slum it, not trying to hide. No mask meant he wasn't a reveler, and that made things easier, too.
"Second floor," she said, "Sixteen if he wants dinner, eleven if he doesn't." Twelve through fifteen sat right above the busy canal, and eleven was a corner that looked out to port. Noise, more than size, dictated the prices paid. The quietest room, that third story corner with stained glass in its arches, that was where Gotris made her home. A third story room cost a pretty penny indeed, on those rare occasions that she could be swayed to make them available.
Rather than pocket the coin, she placed it back into Lis' palm. The message was clear: if he gives any trouble at all, he and his coin would be back on the street. She trusted Lis' judgment as to when a customer wasn't worth the trouble.
It was a common enough question, how and why she came to live in Akvero. It did not prickle from her in the same way that it would have from a human, or even from a city elf. She considered the best way to answer it. "The mountain didn't agree with me," she said finally, though she did not specify whether she meant the climate, the people, or both. "This city suits me better."
"As to the tavern..." Her nose twitched, an idle flicker of expression over her face that she had never outgrown. "I don't like working for other people," she said, which was putting it mildly. Any of her employees could attest to the fact that Gotris was something of a control freak.
'It's not that I want things done my way,' she might say, 'it is that I want them done the right way.' The fact that she considered these two things to be universally identical went unsaid.
"I bought the place from someone else," she said, "who'd bought it from someone else, and so on. Lots of folk realize too late this life's more work than they bargained for. It's fixed up as I like it, anyhow."
Gotris raised an eyebrow when Lis poked her head in the room. The arrangement made it impossible to see the tub when the door was opened, and so the horned nymph's modesty was safe enough. Gotris came close to take the coin from Lis and inspect herself, weighing it in her hand and considering the design of it. Rather than leave it at that, she stepped far enough into the kitchen to get a view of the bar, of the foreigner who'd brought the coin.
Ah. That ought to be fine, then.
Foreigners were common, foreign coin less so. Coin this foreign might mean trouble. A traveler with enough coin that he didn't mind spending it, and yet had not spent it in any of the cities or towns between. That could mean a lot of things; someone too rich to be staying in her establishment for any good reason, or someone who'd been on the run. Thus why she'd needed to take a look at him first.
His clothes might have marked him as fine, where he was from, but if they did they marked him as accustomed to a different kind of finery than the Akveran wealthy preferred. Certainly distinctive, regardless of class. So not trying to slum it, not trying to hide. No mask meant he wasn't a reveler, and that made things easier, too.
"Second floor," she said, "Sixteen if he wants dinner, eleven if he doesn't." Twelve through fifteen sat right above the busy canal, and eleven was a corner that looked out to port. Noise, more than size, dictated the prices paid. The quietest room, that third story corner with stained glass in its arches, that was where Gotris made her home. A third story room cost a pretty penny indeed, on those rare occasions that she could be swayed to make them available.
Rather than pocket the coin, she placed it back into Lis' palm. The message was clear: if he gives any trouble at all, he and his coin would be back on the street. She trusted Lis' judgment as to when a customer wasn't worth the trouble.
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