“So you wear a hat, now. It’s pretty. Frames your face well.”
It took me a while to recognize who was speaking. Watching him pour the guilt-dark fluid into the chipped glasses didn’t help. Smelling the arrogantly sharp blackstrap rum, did.
“Yes, Sir. I finally found one to my liking.”
Rummer John poured a respectable amount of rum in both glasses, but did not offer either one to me. I kept my manners and did not ask nor reach. He capped the bottle and placed it on his side of the table. He sat back and watched me in mirthless silence.
I’ve been expecting some sort of chastisement from him. To be honest, I’ve been expecting an outright rejection. Things have been changing in all the worlds I walk in. It feels like the End Game has started. And friendship only goes so far once politics come into play.
“Guilt does not become you.”
“I wear it often, Sir.”
“Not by your choice.”
“As is my life, Sir.” I did not intend for the words to be colder than the graves around us.
Silence thickened the air under the table and kept me bound to my seat.
“Your hat. Who gives it?”
“No one, Sir.”
“Who wears it?”
“I do, Sir.” I knew what he meant by both questions, but I also know there is a game on the table and the gamepieces are not the glasses of rum.
Rummer John chuckles to my face for the first time in months. It is chilling, threatening, and feels like nails dragged across a chalkboard. Or a rough dagger being unsheathed.
He leaned forward and laid a hand on the table. “Girl.” It is a warning. Likely the only one I will receive.
I do not answer right away. When I did, I spoke not to him, but to any that were present without my knowledge. “I wear this hat. Sir. I, the [Redacted], Ravencloaked and ever shifting. I, who snatched the serpent’s fang and drowned in the Abyss. I may be [of a certain sort], but no one gave me this hat to wear, and no one wears it but me.” I banged my fist on the table to punctuate my statement of independence before realizing the faux pas of the gesture. I left my hand on the table in open defiance of the humility I should be displaying.
“Hmm.” He said nothing as he leaned back, withdrawing his hand from the rough surface. I followed the out he opened for me and withdrew my hand as well.
“I see. Yes, that is your hat, and no one wears it but you. But tell me, Girl, if I were to ask you to wear my hat, would you?” His mouth smirked in play but his eyes remained severe.
“I would, Sir.”
“You answer quick. Too quick. Do you know what I ask of you?”
“Only that thing that I am still terrified of, even to this day. Aye, Sir. If you were to ask me to wear your hat, I would. Because I know my part in your plans is only a part and not an installation. I know the games you play with others, and I know the games you play with me. And for some strange reason, I actually trust you, you terrible bastard.” I reflected his facial expression with one of my own severity.
Silence warmed the cold rum on the table.
“I see being owned hasn’t lessened your impudence any.” At his chastisement, I smiled and nodded in agreement. He took one of the still glasses of rum and crossed the table’s median with it. He placed it before me. “Here, maybe this will teach you some manners.”
I took the glass and saluted him with it. He did not touch his, but watched me with that same dangerous mirth as before. I downed the breath stealing rum and swallowed the urge to cough. Once I was able to use my vocal cords again, I thanked him for the refreshment.
“So, what else are you going to acquire. Or are you satisfied with just a chapeau?”
The rum relaxed me a little too well. “It is but the start, Sir. Since I may yet [have to resort to Plan B], I might as well prepare for the inevitable shenanigans that will come of it.” I smiled without conceit nor conspiracy.
Rummer John lifted his glass to his lips but did not drink. “I reserve the right to approve or disapprove of what ever items you obtain, or plan to obtain, [Redacted]. You tread very close to lands that are not yours, and you know I do defend my maison fevrently. You are not mine, and must not give the appearance of such, even inadvertently.”
“Aye, Sir. I acknowledge and respect your right.”
His smile finally spread to his eyes as he finally took of the rum he poured for himself.
“It is a nice hat.”
“Aye, Sir, it is.”