“I didn’t pay you money for piss water.” Malachi’s voice rumbled in the fairly empty bar. He held a cloth up to his bleeding lip, waiting for Leifr to grab the healing potion he requested, and was awkwardly trying to drink the whiskey in the glass. It was hard trying not to waste the liquor, or get it into the open cut, but he needed a drink. His head was still ringing from the blows he’d taken earlier today, and if he was seeing more than double, he wouldn’t be surprised. He'd gotten his shit rocked at work, chasing a criminal. Pain was radiating from all parts of his body, but all he wanted was a drink, and maybe some sleep.
“Fuck.” He hissed when the whiskey got into the cut, and he dipped the cloth into the cup of water sitting beside him, before pressing it back against the cut. Usually when bad shit like that happened, he’d be in the backroom with one of Leifr’s cute little bartenders tending to his wounds to keep him from bleeding all over the floor. He enjoyed that usually, but he was in such a sullen mood that he’d not want to disturb them at their jobs. Also, he wasn’t hurt that bad, so if Leifr was going to bitch, then he could just stuff it.
Brown eyes flashed upwards when a potions bottle was sat in front of him, and he shot the bartender a quick smirk. “Thanks. You don’t have to treat my booboos, I promise.” His voice was a low drawl as he dapped the potion on, and he almost recoiled at the awkward feeling of his flesh stitching back together. As a kid, it was always it’d heal when it healed. Being a wizard was different, a good different. One of the ways he’d try to help his family would be by supplying them with potions, but that was against the law. Malachi rocked his jaw from side to side, and leaned his chin on his palm as he watched the plate of food sat in front of him.
“If I wasn’t so certain that that crazy girl you work with is your girlfriend, I’d be afraid you were trying to woo me. Sit down and shit, and stop looming like a crazy man…”
