Shifting Luck

He intended it to be a destructive visit to the blackjack tables. Burn the coin, watch it go up in flames like everything else had done. 

Instead, it turned into a win.

Just like that, they gained three horses. Decent ones.

Nenaura had conned some passing merchants, during his delay. He wanted to know how she'd done it, but refused to give her the satisfaction of asking.

They had coin, now. The stowaway wanted comfort, and he was obliged by custom to provide it. 

They spent a day walking and speaking. He had lost some awareness of just how much he had been drinking, and it took the stowaway pointing it out to realize how far it had gone.

Something in her tone made it clear just how troubled she was that he had delayed so long before returning. She hid it well. But not quite well enough when the frustration bled out in her voice, her posture. 

Then there was tension. Intrusions and assumptions. As if they'd reached a certain point in their words where such deterrents became necessary. As if it was a gauntlet to run to find something solid on the other side.

Trust?

Folly.

Maybe it was the teasings by the Breemen making him think about her like that.

He did his shifts at the inn for the next day as if he was no wealthier than before and nothing had changed. The only one to see the splendid new mare he'd gained was Korvynn, but Es knew the boy had no reason to make a note of it.

They'd go, soon. Though, not before mingling a little more with the locals.