Sorry for the long wait, I've been pretty douchey to you guys. Sad face. I can't promise I'll be updating a lot, but I will finish this story. Thanks for all the reviews and favorites! I always hope for more, but I'm still pretty happy with you people who have reviewed. If I could I would give you a hug.
For the non-PM readers,
Anm: Thanks, I'm glad your enjoying it! I'll try to keep my sense of humor going throughout the story.
Angelinne: Haha, thanks. I will keep writing until my dying breath! I may just be lazy...
Sparrow slowly cracked an eyelid to the harsh sunlight that filtered through the slats of the shutters. Her head felt as though it had been split in two with an ax and her thoughts came in a slurred chain. She let out a groan as she rolled of the bed. Well, she tried to roll out of the bed. It was rather difficult seeing as it was cracked down the middle. What the hell happened? She rubbed her temples. The last thing she recalled was laughing at something as she downed a bottle of ale. Her fifth bottle, if she remembered correctly.
She managed to stumble to her feet and fell against the small wardrobe that sat, in her hung-over opinion, sat to close to the bed. With a groan, she opened it slowly and proceeded to vomit inside of it. She spat the bile out of her mouth. What a perfect start to the day.
A few pairs of clothes hung inside, and only one of them had been spared of her stomach's contents. She pulled out the tunic and breeches. As she begun to pull the breeches on a wave of dizziness crashed into her. The floor rose up and she fell on her face, her breeches half way on.
Sparrow lay like that for a few moments. The tattered shred that had once been her dignity had vanished the second she got a face full of floorboard. What had become of her? She used to love waking up in the morning, listening to the birds chirp and watching the sun rise above the buildings and trees of Bowerstone. Now she wanted to shoot every last damned bird in Albion. Amazing what a few bottles of beer could do to a girl.
Minutes, or maybe hours, ticked by as Sparrow struggled to get to her feet. Self pity threatened to bring tears to her eyes. It would be so easy to curl up on the floor and feel sorry for herself for a good day or so. Then again, it might not get rid of the pounding headache that brought curses to her lips. She finally pushed herself off the floor and put her clothes on, much easier said than done.
"You don't look so good, Madame Sparrow," the innkeeper said with concern in his voice.
"No shit." Sparrow growled in reply.
The innkeeper was taken aback by her tone and language and decided to keep his mouth shut. Sparrow ordered water with her breakfast and slunk her way to the darkest corner of the room. She didn't notice that someone had followed her, and didn't look up when said person sat down at her table. Reaver chuckled and sipped his beer loudly. This prompted Sparrow to raise her head off of her arm and glare at him.
"You bastard." Sparrow hissed.
Reaver laughed loudly and set his beer down. Sparrow wondered how he can drink it this early in the morning, let alone after a night of drinking.
"You certainly weren't saying that last night."
Sparrow narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing. Her memories were sketchy at best, but she remembered enough to know that all of the ale drinking had made her judgment cloudy, to put it lightly. This morning wasn't the first time she had ended up face down without her pants on.
The server girl arrived then, Sparrows breakfast in one hand and her drink in the other. Her timing couldn't have been better. The girl could taste the malice rolling off of the white-haired hero and immediately felt awkward. She pardoned herself quickly and fled. Reaver watched after her, her hips swaying, and he shook his head. The young ones always did have a tendency to catch his eye.
Reaver turned his head and studied Sparrow.
"Well aren't you just a ball of sunshine this morning. I personally feel wonderful." Reaver smiled wolfishly.
"Maybe because you didn't sleep with a harlot for once," she retorted.
Sparrow dug into her breakfast, creamy meat stew, with the appetite of a troll. The only thing she had to eat last night was... well, best leave some details out. The stew was delicious, and she only stopped her eating to breathe or to drink from her water. When she was done, she stood abruptly and looked down at Reaver, who stared innocently up at her and drunk his ale.
"I'll return for my things later, I'm leaving for now. I want to be alone and swear to the gods if you follow me I will not hesitate to cut that stupid smirk off your face." And with that, Sparrow more or less stumbled out of The Cow & Corset.
I'm actually proud of this chapter. A little short but I felt awkward writing dialogue between Sparrow and Reaver. I'm going to put an alarm on my iPod to go off every Monday at 3 in the morning so I'll know to update soon. The creativity dry spell I've been in is wearing off, so I'll start typing like crazy!