#my whole body is burning so ignore gramatics and whatever else is wrong

[starrycassi]

This whole thing is settled in my Meditrina AU (that I poorly explain here)

Ballister walks into the tavern, with a pink snake draped all over his neck, his shoulders. Nimona likes this way of transportation better, and it adds to the whole "villain" look they're supposed to be going for in this new town.

Niccole — the bar keeper, owner and founder, grins at him, her silver tooth shining with the last sun rays of the day that managed to sneak their way in through the few windows of the place. She is one of those women, the ones that are as beautiful as the few stars that are starting to show up in the pink sky outside, and Ballister has learned to enjoy her company, even with her sour humour, her pranks and horrible habit of taking everything left unsupervised. Everyone in the town has a couple of bad habits, and he's no exception.

One of them is the tavern itself.

"Blackheart, baby! And my favorite menace!" Opening her arms to invite him in for a hug, she quickly started pouring his favorite drink into a cup, smiling ever so lively. "I was wondering when we we're gonna find your body, honey. Rumour had it, you were dead, or kidnapped. I knew, baby, I knew you wouldn't go down that easily. I even bet on it, believe me. I'm going to turn so rich in a couple of hours"

He gave in, hugging her. Nimona switched from his shoulders to hers, barely hissing to say hi. She's tired. They just came back from running an errand, after all.

One of Niccole's habits is betting, too. This one Ballister finds ridiculous. Anyone who's willing to bet against this woman is surely stupid.

"Well, we're a bit harder to take down than that, Nic. But I'm glad to know you believe in us"

He sits down, and takes a small sip of the glass in front of him, tasting it for some second, making sure that it feels okay. Niccole's mostly kind, but you can never really trust people.

"Oh, baby. Anyone who loses a limb and gets up from that is someone who doesn't go down easily" Laughing, she lifts her skirt, beaming at the wolf whistles that some people give her, allowing everyone around them to take a peek at her prosthetic leg, a beautiful, glittery, pink, piece of art that Ballister made for her. Then, she turns around and starts chatting with Nimona in a language Ballister doesn't understand, spitting words quickly, pouring in some more orders.

The bar's not full, but the tables around them produce a never ending background noise of voices and laughs.

After pouring another glass for another customer, she wipes her hands in her skirt, tying and untying her long, brown hair in a low, loose ponytail, and rests her elbows on the wood surface that divides them, finally ready to get down to what she really cares about: gossip. Nimona turns into a bird, and hides himself on Niccole's hair. They're awfully close to each other, both always happy to cause chaos.

"So, baby..." she started, licking her lips. "Tell me"

"About what, Nic?"

"Oh, don't play with me, boy. You disappear and close your doors for two whole weeks. Not even the girls managed to get a word out of you. What were you up to, you rascal? Any important situations going on with the shelter?"

She looks worried, for a second. Ballister squirms uncomfortably on his seat. There was a big, unbelievable situation, actually. A blonde, six feet tall situation.

Trying to get Ambrosius to actually speak to him with clarity, convincing Nimona to let him sleep in, taking care of Ambrosius's wounds, making sure that Nimona actually didn't kill him, cleaning out the spare room on the cabin and scrambling together to make it comfortable, adapting to the sight of fucking Ambrosius Goldenloin every day... It all took two weeks, and the room is still too unpleasant, Nimona still seems to be on the edge of murder every time Ambrosius's around her, and Ballister still isn't really sure of how he feels about this whole thing.

"I had a guest over" is all he can come up with, shrugging. It wasn't unheard of, for him to take in guests before they were delivered to the shelter.

"Oh, really?" Niccole arches an eyebrow, and screams for one of her employees to come out and cover her. She jumps over the bar, her long, colorful skirt, turning into a blur, and she sits down in the stool next to him with the agility of a cat. She's fully invested in this, now. "And why didn't you tell, baby? I would've gotten you some food. The others would've done something, too"

Ballister is aware, now, of the fact that he manages his emotions very poorly, but he wasn't that self-aware a year and some months ago, when he crashed in this town. Alcohol seemed like a good coping mechanism, back when he moved in. He generally doesn't get easily drunk, but when he does, he gets loud, talkative.

So, half the town has heard a lot of things about his past. And Ambrosius. A lot about Ambrosius, actually. A lot. Between cries and stutters. Like, way too much of him. A big fucking lot. Specially the arm chopping situation.

"He's not a shelter guest, Nic" he tries to explain, looking at the door to avoid her green eyes. He can't help but blush with embarrassment at the fact that he's been avoiding her for two weeks to take care of his runaway cop ex. "He's more of a... personal friend, I think. He's supposed to join me here, actually"

Her whole face lights up, and she shrieks, hugging him, giggling. When she lets go, she throws her arms up in the air. Nimona gets out of her hair and flies out of a window, probably too exhausted to keep dealing with people.

The errand was a specially tiring one. They went in a shopping spree with Ambrosius, because Ballister's heart couldn't handle seeing him wearing his clothes anymore.

Ballister fought bravely in the Institute. He was top of his class. He went days without rest, without sleep. He worked out until he passed out. He ran miles until his legs gave up. He's still sure that there's not a single activity more energy consuming than going out on a Goldenloin shopping spree.

Niccole doesn't allow him to bask in memories, shaking him by the shoulders.

"Finally!" She exclaims, talking to the roof. "Thank you, goddesses! I knew it, baby! I'm so glad you're getting over that golden dick boy! You're moving on!"

He stutters, blushing even more, trying to explain to her that the golden boy and his new roommate are exactly the same person. She doesn't let him, cackling with childish glee.

"You're way too good for that asshole, love! Goddess, wasn't I interested in girls only, I would've asked you out myself so, so long ago" Gasping loudly, she starts fumbling with her hair, fixing her shirt. "Oh, my, he's coming, you say? Should've told me before! I look so bad, in these rags. I would've cooked something for your new lover, honey!"

"He's more of an unwanted and unexpected addition to my household, Nic..."

"Oh, I call my girl that, too. Don't worry about a thing, dear. I'm just happy that you're finally meeting new people. We should organize a party, tell me his name so I can- "

The door opens, and all of a sudden, the sounds in the tavern dies down. Meditrina is a small, secluded town, where everyone knows everyone. Foreigners are quite common, since they're really close to a big city, but they usually stick to the main trail and the few hotels around it.

So it's understandable, that everyone stares suspiciously at the cloaked figure that comes to the Arcoiris Tavern, a place not even the locals frequent, known for being a house to various criminals and outlaws. They stare at the golden hair peeking under the fabric, at the way the man covered by it is hunched over himself, aiding himself with a simple-looking cane. Ballister goes stiff as a plank.

"That's him." he whispers to Niccole, gulping. Ambrosius looks good, with his new clothes. Well, he always looks good, it's just refreshing to see him in something that actually fits him for the first time in what feels like forever. "That's my guest"

She blinks once, twice, and awaits for the "mysterious man" to approach them. Ambrosius walks in quickly, making a beeline for Ballister once he spots him. It's dark outside now, and his face is light up only by the lanterns perched everywhere. He's still unbelievably handsome, unfortunately. And so stupidly stubborn. He's late only because he refused to go home without buying a new pair of golden earrings, and now there's a pretty pair of teardrops hanging from his ears, catching and reflecting the low lights around them.

"Oh, Bal, sorry, I'm late. I didn't really understand the directions you gave me..." He starts, looking actually apologetic. He's already forgiven. For everything. He's been forgiven years ago. "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about it, really" Ballister cuts in. Ambrosius apologizes a lot, lately. It's a bit tiring. "Look, she's the friend I told you about. Owns the bar"

Ambrosius smiles at Niccole as soon as he's introduced to her. It's the practiced, charming one. She responds with her best grin. The one she gave Ballister when he started coming in, almost a year ago. He offers her a hand, and she shakes it excitedly. Everyone in the bar is staring, eager to get some new gossip.

"I'm so happy to meet you!" Says the woman, breaking the handshake to hug Ambrosius, as if they're long-lost friends. "I'm Niccole, Niccole Oakes, by the way. Feel free to ask me for anything. Ballister's friends are mine, too"

Ballister can't stop the next words that are said after that. He can't stop catastrophe.

"Oh, well" chuckles Ambrosius, looking put out by the fact that they're still hugging, but managing to keep his nerves out of his voice. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ambrosius, Ambrosius Goldenloin"

He can't stop the chaos that the tavern turns to after that, either.