She became petrified watching as he walked, leaving wet boot marks on the floor. He was wet and drenched from head to toe. He went and sat at the far end of the bar counter. She gulped nervously observing him. If only Aunty Anne or someone else would just...
"Get me a root beer." A gravelly male voice resounded in the lonely bar from underneath the cloak. Noting the cultured voice, she knew he was not one of the men who frequented the pub.
"Okay," she mumbled and turned to the beer keg, decanting the drink into a cup. She pushed the cup forward to him and watched intently as his fair and slender fingers held the cup and downed it in a minute.
"More," he said.
Watching him with incredulity, she poured another for him. Before she knew it, the cup was empty again and pushed forward for her to fill again.
"Sir... are you that thirsty?" she managed to ask. But instead of an answer, she heard a melodious chuckle from him.
"I've never seen a bartender that cares this much about a customer, I'm that thirsty...." He raised his head a little. "....miss"
Bianca poured another glass of beer for him, but he took it slow this time. For some time she forgot how frightened she had been and became inquisitive about who was under the cloak. It was an expensive-looking black cloak with golden embroidery.
"I can hear your heartbeat from here, are you that scared?" He asked.
"Kind of, I haven't seen you here before."
He gave another menacing chuckle that sent shivers down her spine.
"No need to be," he said, then moved his hood down to his back, revealing a handsome face that made her eyes widen.
"I'm not a criminal," he muttered with an appealing smirk on how frightened she looked.
She gulped as she stared at him. His hair was blue, a deep kind of blue you could almost mistake for black, but up close she saw it. And it was wet and lapped at his skin, a drop of water dripped down from his hair to his well-proportioned cheek and jaw into his shirt and then her eyes locked to the Hazel eyes that were watching her closely.
"Still scared?" He asked, caressing his hair to the back, drops of water slipping through his fingers to the floor.
"I... Uhmm," she cleared her throat and looked away. "No."
"Get me some food then."
"What would you have?" she asked. "This is the menu," she pointed at the brown paper pasted on the wall.
"Read them to me," he said, looking around the bar. "Can't you read?" she asked, drawing his attention back to her.
"So? Just read them out."
"That's...."
"What? Surprising?"
"No...I just..."
How could a man like him not know how to read? Perhaps he was just pulling her legs.
"How are you related to Aunty Anne?" He interrupted her thoughts and brought her attention back to him.
"Why do you ask?" she asked suspiciously. What was his connection to Aunty Anne? "I'm a little curious here." He said.
"I'm her relative," she answered finally. What was his business with that?
He nodded and pointed at the menu on the wall. "Which is the longest to make?"
"The pressed duck."
"Good, get me that one."
The pressed duck was an expensive dish, and looking at him, she wondered if he even knew how much it cost.
"What are you waiting for?"
"The..the dish is an expensive one," she answered.
"Oh," he muttered, staring at the menu on the wall. "Can't I pay back later?" He scratched his head. "On credit?"
"No."
"Why?"
"This is not charity, sir." She shook her head politely, and picked up a rag by the side table, and began to clean the counter.
"Wouldn't you help this poor man here?" He asked as his lips moved up into a smug smile, drumming his fingers slowly on the counter. He surely doesn't look like a beggar.
"We don't sell on credit," she repeated, then pondered on it for a while, while dusting the rag.
"I could get you a free meal." She said finally.
"Really?" He looked taken aback.
"Yes, you don't have to pay. Just forget about the expensive meal if you can't afford it."
"How kind of you," he eyed her up and down with a smirk. "Get it then, I would make do with it."
"You will still pay for the drinks."
"I know."
She turned to leave and made a halt, then turned back to him.
"One more question."
"What is it?"
"Your hair color"… She didn't know how to ask. Because it was indeed strange.
He gave a look that said he got what she meant, as if he was already used to it, and waved at her.
"Let's just say my valet decided to experiment with one of his unique dyes on my hair and it turned out this way. Still looking for ways to make him pay." He replied with an unkind smile that said everything he didn't say. She couldn't help thinking about what the valet must be going through having ruined his master's hair.
Seeing she wasn't saying anything, "Would you perhaps suggest a punishment to give to this naughty servant of mine?"
"No." She eyed him. "It was only a mishap. Next time I suggest you reach out to professionals."
He chuckled, "I've never needed that. Thomas has been dyeing my hair for years." He breathed and pushed back his hair again like he was exhausted. "You're right, it was just a mishap."
Bianca stared at him bewildered and flushed all together. She was flushed not because of the answer but because of the charming smirk he had on his face.
Who was this handsome stranger?
She glanced at him one more time and left into the kitchen. She heaved a sigh when she got inside. How come a man like that had no penny for food? He looked cultured and unfit to visit a pub like theirs. Well, it seems you do not judge a book by its cover.
She dished out the food from a thermos. This was where Aunty Anne kept their lunch. She didn't eat much of it, so she dished it out on a plate and went back to the counter.
She came back and was met with an empty bar. The man was nowhere to be seen. She put the plates down to search the whole bar, but there was no sight of him. She began to panic. She searched the bar again, but he was gone. Bianca sighed, confused. Just as she was about to give up, she noticed a note on the counter with a few coins atop it.
It read, "Thank you for the kindness. You'll get my reward someday." She smiled, wondering who this mysterious man was. Was he a ghost? Having heard so many frightening tales about Farshield, she couldn't help but wonder.