The old man nodded to himself, as he once again picked up his book. He flipped through the pages, though he wasn't really reading all that much. He was distracted by the realization that this boy sure has a lot of friends willing to join him in the middle of nowhere. Friends who, strangely, seem to disappear rather abruptly. Much like the boy himself, he began to think. According to local chatter, he only seems to be around in early mornings and late evenings, which he began to think rather odd, considering the distinct lack of anything interesting to do around here for some hundred miles. 

It wasn't long until his not-reading was interrupted, however, as the door to the inn began to creak open once again. 

He looked up, and saw the peculiar yet familiar young girl, clad in green fishing attire (albeit, minus the pole, which was strange) once again entering his establishment. Which was odd, because she just came and immediately left, not even 2 minutes ago. 

The girl, wordlessly, eyes glued to the floor, walked over the the door the boy had entered a minute ago, and simply stood there, utterly unmoving. Which was especially odd, because the wall was lined with perfectly good benches to sit on. And yet, this girl did not sit, and instead, simply stood.

The old man, very briefly, looked down at his book, and flipped a page, though, once again, he didn't read a word. 

"What're you doin' there, young lady?" The old man asked, looking up once again.

The girl said nothing. Her eyes were open, and she was seemingly aware, though it was unclear if his words reached her ears. 

It was at this point that the old man had noticed another odd thing about the girl. One of her arms was reaching at her side, hanging just a little away from what appeared to be a sheathed blade. The other hand seemed to just hang out in space.  

"Can I help you with anythin'?" The old man said.

Predictably, the girl said nothing. 

The old man could feel some sense of hostility from the girl, though, whether that's a great feat of incredible intuition on his part, or the fact that her hand was literally centimeters away from what looked like her sword is entirely up for debate. 

This was an odd situation, for sure. The old man had met the girl the day before, albeit only very briefly. Certainly, whatever was happening at this moment was quite different from his first impression. 

Quite different, indeed... 

The old man sighed. 

After a moment, he got up from his seat, and retreated down the stairs. 

. . .

He poured water into a small black machine upon his counter. Then, he spooned a powdered bean substance into an exceptionally thin sheet of parchment in another compartment in the same container. He pressed his sleeve against the bottom of the machine, for a short while, letting something out of him until the machine heated up.

In the brief amount of time he waited, he prepared a couple of his own mugs, as well as some condensed cubes of sweetener, and set them aside.

Before long, the machine had produced a warm, comfortable, yet terribly sharp mixture. Taking care to make use of his thick sleeves, he poured some of the mixture into the mugs he'd previously prepared. Next, he placed a single sweetener in one, and, in the other... Two. It was going to be a long night, he figured. 

He stirred the first beverage with a spoon. The second, he left to melt, to be shaken around just a little. 

He carried both of the mugs back up the stairs. He placed the second upon the counter, and the first, on a bench near the girl.

He returned to his seat at the counter, and looked at his mug. He'd let it melt a little bit more, he decided.

. . . 

The girl looked over at the mug beside her.

. . .

"I didn't ask for this." She said. 

"Sorry, ma'am. Do you take it black?" 

"No. I don't."

The old man nodded. "I see." He began to absent mindedly swirl his drink around. 

. . .

"How about a snack, then?" He said.

"No." 

"I see."

He took a sip of his drink. It was still a little bitter, for his tastes. 

"A game of cards, then?"

No response.

"Catch anything today?"

Her eye, a corner of her mouth, a few of her fingers seemed to twitch, very briefly.

He took another sip. He didn't mind the taste.

"If memory serves, that's yer brother in that room, correct?" 

The girl looked up at him, though her head was still tilted towards the ground. He could feel a certain malice in her eyes.

"What's your game here, freakshow?" 

Indeed, this was a far cry from the girl he'd met the other day. He took another sip. It was much better. 

"Presently, I'm trying ta run an inn. And figure out whatever the hell it is you're doin'." Stated the old man.

"I'm standing here."

"I can see that. And, as I'm sure you're well aware, people don't generally stand in front of doors in the middle of the night."

"I suppose that's true." 

"Not without reason, at least." 

"S'posse that's true, too." 

. . .

"...Well?"

No response. 

The old man sighed once again.

"Now, I really hate to do this, but... Technically, if I asked you to leave, you'd be trespassing right now." 

The girl almost laughed. "And what are you gonna do, lock me in the church?" 

"No, no... You should know, our town doesn't really do peaceful punishment."  

The girl, head still tilted down at the floor, looked up at the old man, for the first time, with a look of pure disdain and malice. It was the kind of look the old man had seen few times in his long, long life. And he'd never seen it from someone so young before.

"You wouldn't be able to lay a finger on me." The girl said, coldly. 

The old man gripped his mug a little harder. He'd never been a violent man. Chances are, she was right. 

"Of course." He said.

He took another sip of his drink.

"But let's say I tried." He continued. "Let's say I tried, and end up all cut up. Y'know what'd happen after that?"

The girl thought about this, very briefly. "None of them would be able to, either."

The old man chuckled, a little nervously. Some crazy part of him almost believed that. 

"Now, I'm sure that's true." He said, taking yet another sip. "But what about him?" He said, nodding over to the door behind her. "You're just a youngin. Chances are, it's him they'd go after." 

Her eyes opened widely. The malice in her eyes before looked almost like a pleasant dream, comparatively. 

"I wouldn't let that happen."

"Of course. But, while our town's not big, by any means, we've got, what, a dozen people? That's one hell of a fight, right there."

The girls mouth hung open for a second before she spoke again.

"I wouldn't..." She seemed to stare at the ground somehow harder. "He could just-..."

"Of course, y'all could get away. Wouldn't be too hard, honestly." He chuckled, perhaps trying to hide his nervousness. "But, as I understand it... He's got property 'round 'ere, don't he?" 

The girl paused. For the first time, she tilted her head up to him. She showed a look of hatred alike only one he'd seen before. Her mouth seemed to twitch, as if she was searching for words, though she said nothing for some time.

The old man sipped his drink.

The girl closed her eyes, and looked towards the floor with disgust. "Fine. What do you want, freak?" 

"A conversation." He said, simply.

The girl sighed. "Again with this..." She said, under her breath. "Fine." She said, through gritted teeth. 

"So, what brings you in tonight?"

The girl paused, for a moment, in thought. "What would you do if someone malicious broke in, right now?" 

The old man chuckled. "Well, they'd have to be pretty dumb to attack this town." 

"But what would you do?"

The old man, too, paused in thought, briefly. "I s'ppose I'd do whatever I had to, to keep 'em from hurting anyone."

"But what if you couldn't? What if they came in, and just started attacking. No words, nothing. Then what?"

"... I s'ppose I'd get hurt."

The girl pointed to the door behind her. "And he's asleep. He's vulnerable. He could... He... I can't... "

She reached down, and gripped her sheathed object, tightly. Her eyes seemed to widen once again. Something seemed to be forming in her eyes.

The old man sipped his drink.

"You seem quite... Protective of the boy. That's admirable. But, eh... Why?" He asked.

"My... Our father told me to."

The old man thought that to be a bit strange. Not just that a girl significantly younger than him was acting as his designated guardian, but that, if that is the case, he'd attempt to send her away.

"Does he know 'bout this arrangement?"

"Yeah, of-" She spoke quickly, initially, before pausing. "I mean, I'd think so... It doesn't matter." She said, shaking her head, briefly. "Point is, I wont let-" A third pause, and she hasn't even finished the thought yet. "I... I..." She would be unable to finish the thought.

"Did something happen?" 

Her eyes seemed to glisten, and twitch. "I... It... It was my fault... I-I thought he'd... I was... Careless. I was careless. I could have... But... Damnit. Damn that stupid pony... Damnit... Damnit. DAMNIT DAMNIT WHY DID HE DO THAT!? WHY DIDN'T HE RUN-"

It was most fortunate that the boy was a heavy sleeper.  

"Woah, woah, easy now, easy. People are tryin' to sleep." Though, the boy was the only one actually sleeping here, the old man figured that a voice like that could be heard the next town over.

The girl stood there, wide eyes glued to the floor, breathing heavily. 

"The boy... Is he alright?"

"Yeah. I think... I don't know. I was going to check for myself, when... After I... Once..."

Her eye twitched. Something left her eye, and ran its way down her cheek. 

"Talk to me."  

"Once... Once I'm able to look at him again, damnit..." 

There was silence in the inn, for a short while. 

. . .

"He blame you?" The old man asked, with a sip of his drink.

"I... Don't... I don't know... Actually, he apologized more than I did..." The girl said, weakly. "I... I almost wanted him to blame me, I think..."

'Ah, there it is.' The old man thought. He took another sip of his drink. Perfect.

The girl continued, "Instead he... He just smiled. Smiled and laughed... And... He lied. He lied to me... Right to my face... God, he's such a bad liar..." She said, with something falling from her cheeks onto the floor below. "Why? Why did he do that?"

"I'm sure he just-" 

"Damnit, I know damn well why he did it." The girl said, louder, but just as weak. "But still, I..."

Nobody said anything for some time after that, though there was still some noise within.

The old man got up from his counter, and walked over to the girl. He pulled small, neat cloth from his robe, and offered it to her. 

She looked at it, very briefly, but turned her head away, and clenched her fists indignantly. 

The old man sighed, and placed the cloth beside the mug he'd placed there earlier. 

He opened a nearby door, before stepping back, grabbing his mug, and heading back down the stairs. 

"Where're you going?" The girl asked.

"To bed. It is quite late, after all." 

"I see." The girl said.

The man stepped down the stairs a bit further.

"Can... Can I ask you one question?" The girl asked. 

The old man paused. "Go right ahead." 

"Why... Why did you do that?"

The old man took another sip of his drink, which probably wasn't wise, if he intended to go to sleep. "You looked like you had somethin' to say. So I asked." 

. . .

"I see."

It couldn't be seen, but the old man probably smiled. 

"Goodnight, young lady." 

. . .

The old man retreated down the steps into the basement once more. 

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Goodnight."