The windows glow with the feint light of the street, and the old man lazily watches the blurred, refracted shapes of passersby as the night deepens. Lazy, bored, and too old to do anything about it, the old man sighs as he continues to wipe down his counter. It is a dreamful sigh, as the man hearkens back to the days of his prime. On nights like this, he finds himself wishing that he had died with the rest of his companions on that failed Sebilis raid thirty years earlier. Back then, he was thankful to be one of the few survivors to make it back to Antonica. But now…. He cannot help but feel that that would have been a decent end to his life as an adventurer.
Instead, he was relegated to the task of shop keep, alone.
He hears the door to his store open. He curses under his breath. Didn’t he lock it? He looks up from his task and he sees a hooded form, whose face is concealed by pitch black shadow. Reflexively assuming a defensive posture, he realizes how silly he is when he realizes he wields only a rag as a weapon.
“We’re closed here,” he calls out. “So if it’s all the same to you, leave.”
The form approaches slowly. “I didn’t come here to buy anything. I came here to see you.”
Something in the stranger’s surprisingly friendly voice was familiar. It was a sound from his distant past. But he couldn’t place it. Instead he begins to worry, and quickly glances around for a nearby weapon.
“Who… who are you?” he growls. “What do you want?”
The stranger slides his hood back to reveal a face the old man doesn’t recognize. The stranger is human, whose face is fixed in a mischievous grin.
“I know you not!” the old man spits, as he points a shaking finger at the intruder. “Kindly state your business and be gone!”
The stranger looks at him puzzled. And then he finally realizes something. Reaching up to the thin silver crown that adorns his head, he gently lifts it and this immediately dispels the illusion, revealing the deep blue angular features, and starchy white hair of a dark elf.
Instead of falling into a panic like most humans did at the sight of a strange tier’dal dressed like a brigand, he relaxes and lets out a relieved sigh. “Oh….” He then shakes his head, scratches his tobacco stained silver beard and looks back up at an old friend. “It’s only you,” he says in an unimpressed and annoyed tone.
“You’re still a dick,” Kan smiles.
The old man shoots out a spurt of laughter as he tosses his old rag onto the counter top. “Come here, you lout! And give this old man a cuddle!” he laughs as he raises his hands to receive a very old friend.