Chapter Text
Come rain or shine, Friday was the best day of March's week.
By Friday, any jobs he picked up throughout the weekdays were neatly boxed off – and any orders that came in over the weekend would be for odd jobs. Nice, easy work he could still do if he was nursing a hangover. On Friday he could welcome the weekend by visiting the inn, alongside Mistria's other residents, and enjoying doing something other than working the forge, or talking to Olric, or relaxing at the bath house.
So, when he walked out of the crisp evening air into the welcoming embrace of the hearth, the moreish scent of soup on the air and the hubbub of conversation that typified the Sleeping Dragon he was pleased to feel the loosening of his shoulders as his tension slipped away.
Ryis spotted him from across the room – his fade splitting into a grin as he waved March over.
"Hey, Stranger!" He called, sliding March a cold beer.
He grappled with the urge to be difficult. Instead, he did what was socially acceptable – he grunted and took a deep swig from the bottle.
"Ugh – that's good." March groaned and as he sunk into a nearby barstool, Ryis patted his back with a nimble hand.
"Busy day?" He asked, one thick, neatly groomed eyebrow arched.
"Busy week." March corrected.
"Oh? Have the nails finally done you in?"
"Ugh. The nails." March whined, "What do you even use them for?"
Ryis chuckled beside him.
"Oh, you know, just necessary repairs for the town. Really boring stuff."
"It is boring." March insisted.
Ryis grinned, not even feigning concern. He knew he was kidding. He knew that getting Mistria back on its feet was just as important to March as it was to anyone in this town. Except maybe Adeline. But she was an outlier – no one cared about anything as much as Adeline did.
"So, Olric mentioned you met the new arrival."
March groaned.
Ari was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now. He nursed his beer, his palm wet from condensation as Ryis poked at him.
"She's amazing, right?" Ryis asked.
"Oh, she's something."
Ryis snorted.
"What's so funny?" He snapped – a little meaner than he intended.
"You. You're hilarious. You're treating her like she's your nemesis, and not-"
"And not what?" March cut him off.
Ryis paused, his lips twitching.
"You know… An attractive, accomplished adventurer?"
If it had been anyone else, March would have presumed they were being accidentally obtuse. But it was Ryis. Which meant his comment was very much designed to irritate him.
"Wow. You too, huh?" March snarked, feeling the involuntary roll of his eyes as Ryis laughed beside him.
"She's trying, March. That's more than most people would do for us."
"I know she's trying!" He insisted, eyeing the dregs of his beer.
Ryis made a sound that was somewhere between an acknowledgment and a chuckle. March felt the blood flush his cheeks – unsure if it was embarrassment or irritation that set him so on edge. He hadn't signed up for this. Fridays were supposed to be relaxing.
It had to be irritation. After all, he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Who cared if Ari meant well? She hadn't done anything to prove herself – and yet the only person in Mistria, save Olric, who March could regularly tolerate was already tripping over his feet to defend her. This was all because of the stupid hardwood.
A second, slightly hotter, flush ran up his neck as he remembered the untouched bar of chocolate tucked away neatly in its hiding place back at the shop. Despite his attempts to be the bigger person, he was yet to thank Ari for the gift.
"And I am grateful." March sniffed, "In my own way."
"I know. I'm only joking." Ryis assured him.
Ryis glanced down at March's now-empty bottle. March's bad habit of finishing his drinks far too quickly had reared its head far too early in the evening.
"Hemlock! Two more, please." Ryis called, flashing two outstretched fingers to the bartender. Hemlock, who had one slim arm wrapped around his wife's waist, pulled himself away to serve them. While they waited, they talked. Or rather, Ryis talked, and March grunted every now and then as the familiar buzz of alcohol lifted the first layer of his bad mood.
Hemlock set their drinks down in front of them on the bar and March pressed the tesserae into his outstretched palm before Ryis could reach for his own wallet.
"You get the next one."
"If you've not passed out by then." Ryis teased.
March wished he had the capacity to address the insult with as much bluster as he would when less preoccupied and sober. Instead, he barked ha-ha with a roll of his eyes so exaggerated he was surprised his vision remained intact. Even with an ice-cold, fresh bottle uncapped in his hands, March's brain was bogged down with thoughts of her.
"Do you really think she's accomplished?" March asked.
"Oh, we're back to this?" Ryis barely managed to remain expressionless as he spoke.
March exhaled loudly.
"I can't help it. She's so –"
"Impressive?"
"Irritating." March corrected, his lip curling into a pout.
"March. Buddy. You have got to work through this." A sliver of exasperation slipped into Ryis' voice as he patted his back once more.
"I know." March groaned, "I'll cut it out."
"I'll hold you to that." Ryis eyed him. Sceptical to the bone.
Thankfully, March seemed to develop the power to keep his mouth shut after that – probably due to the bottom of his second beer bottle growing ever closer. He managed to keep Ari's name off his tongue - even if her soft hands and chestnut hair encouraged a tightness in his chest that he identified as looming anxiety. Even if her name occupied his ears, punctuating various conversations across the room, and churned an unusual sensation of irritation in his gut. With Ryis' help, and his third drink, the evening started to feel normal.
By the time 7 PM rolled around, March felt refreshed.
Spending time socialising had shaken the stiffness of work from his bones and muscles. As the evening had passed, Ryis had wandered off to catch-up with a few of the other villagers. In his absence, March had been left to his own devices.
Unsurprisingly, that pretty much consisted of thinking of Ari. Although she seemed less annoying to him with the pleasant buzz of alcohol masking his thoughts. It felt like, no matter what he did, she didn't even flinch. In fact, she'd even brought him a pretty thoughtful gift to repay him for his exceptionally cold welcome. So far this week she'd helped Eiland uncover a rare archaeological find, brought Olric five samples of rock to identify, gathered a whole bouquet of flowers to decorate Celine's cabin and completed a bunch of other tasks that had swamped the request board in a sea of paper scraps. Sure, she hadn't done any farming, which March firmly believed was the bare minimum for someone who lived on a farm, but even he had to admit she'd excelled in cheering the residents of Mistria up.
I'm definitely thanking her tonight, March decided.
Resolved, he glanced up at the clock. 7:30 pm. She was late.
March glanced toward the door; his fourth beer on the counter in front of him. Four was him limit. If he drank any more than he had he was going to stop caring about a lot of things. Like how cool he looked in front of his fellow townspeople. And how early he had to be up tomorrow to make the most of the day. Seconds passed.
"To drink or not to drink?" He pondered.
"You have to think about it?" A lilting voice from beside him drew his eye.
Elsie smiled demurely, her neat, if not ostentatious, outfit glistened in candlelight as she settled into Ryis' vacated seat. She swilled her own drink, a glass of white wine, gently.
"No, I don't, I just –"
"What's the worst that could happen?" She asked sweetly, not at all taken aback by March's non-plussed expression.
His eyes darted to the door. 7:30 pm. There was still plenty of time for Ari to show up. But she had only just arrived in town this week – maybe she wouldn't even want to come and socialise with a bunch of strangers? What difference could one drink make to his already terrible first impression? Elsie's words echoed in his mind. What was the worst thing that could happen? Surely, he couldn't say anything that would completely implode his life. His beer grew warmer by the second. Already paid for and quickly rising to room temperature with the fire glazing only feet away.
"You're right." March said – downing the bottle without a second thought.
As the glass slipped away from his lips, the empty vessel placed unceremoniously back on the counter with a clatter, the doors swung open and in walked Ari from the star-speckled gloom.
Shit.
Alcohol buzzed in his blood. His heart raced to accommodate the surprising shiver of excitement he felt. Maybe she'd talk to him again. He could say thank you. She could see he wasn't a colossal ass who disliked her for no good reason. It was a win-win.
He waited for her wide, blue eyes to pass over him. But before she could even get through the door, Celine's blonde head bobbed into her line of sight, pulling Ari insistently toward a nearby table – where Eiland, Adeline, Balor and Holt were kicking off a brand-new campaign of Dragons & Drama. March's face scrunched up as Ari laughed along with the chatter. She listened quietly, more interested in what everyone else was saying than speaking herself. The table welcomed her to the spare seat beside Balor. March grimaced. He would not be able to thank her with if Snicklefritz was listening in. With an apologetic bob of her head, Ari backed away from the table. She gestured toward the bar. March swore her blush-coloured lips mouthed the words – maybe some other time!
Seeing his opportunity, March hovered by the bar.
"It's good to see you again, Ari!" Landen called, clapping a hand down on her shoulder. She jerked with the action but smiled nonetheless and returned the sentiment in her usual soft way.
"These other folks and their games… I like to really sit with a drink and appreciate it, you know what I mean?" Landen continued.
"Uh, sure!" Ari agreed, eyeing the drink options behind the counter.
"Certainly!" Elsie chimed in, "Better to turn your senses to one thing and give it the attention it deserves. Isn't that right, young March?"
If March hadn't been decidedly drunk, he would have felt put on the spot by Elsie's aside. Especially because it attracted the attention of everyone in earshot, including Ari herself. She looked at him with her wide eyes – her gaze as blue and sweet as the blueberries that grew over by the Eastern Road. But as it happened, March was drunk – and Drunk March was a creature so mysterious Sober March couldn't even begin to predict what would happen when he hit his fourth beer.
Heat flooded his cheeks, and he did the only thing that felt appropriate.
He pretended to have only just noticed her arrival.
"Ari!" He exclaimed, ignoring the way her brows raised.
"March?" She answered.
"Come here, c'mere." March waved her over, emboldened by the alcohol rushing through his brain.
As though she couldn't quite believe he was even talking to her Ari approached slowly, excusing herself from conversation with Landen with a polite smile, a wave and a promise to catch-up on how her first week had been later in the night.
"What's up?" She asked, somewhat sweetly.
Did she always sound like that? His eyes flicked to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her gaze.
"I'll let you in on a little secret." March asserted.
"Oh?" She replied, inching closer conspiratorially.
He hummed pleasantly, brushing a few stray strands of her chestnut hair behind her ear and whispered.
"You're not so bad."
He sighed unable to smother the vague feeling of grumpiness the confession raised in him. She stiffened beside him. Her heart-shaped face jerked backward. For a moment, she seemed at a complete loss. He snorted as her eyebrows all but receded into her green gingham bandana. Her mouth opened and then closed; her usual soft smile abandoned. Then all at once, a daring shade of crimson flushed her sunburnt cheeks.
March appreciated that flush more than he cared to admit.
It felt like proof she wasn't as composed as she made out. Evidence that maybe he could get to her – even if not the way he expected.
A sick sort of satisfaction he knew he'd feel guilty about in the morning set his heart racing. And he smiled with a level of abandon he didn't usually allow himself.
"Oh, my… It seems our blacksmith is a bit of a lightweight." Elsie chimed in, her cloud-like hair and knowing-smile visible over Ari's shoulder.
"It's because he's drinking the cheap stuff… Just like you, Valen." Juniper sniped, her gaze as snotty as ever, before she continued ripping into the doctor beside her. Her own way of relaxing on a Friday mercifully drawing the attention of the townspeople.
Ari hovered beside him. Her skin still alight with embarrassment. March wanted to feel the heat from her cheeks – they looked warm enough to replace the fire of his forge. Before he could act on his thoughts. Elsie looped her arm through Ari's and turned her away from him.
"Come here and sit with me, Ari. The girls are fighting… What fun!" She exclaimed and shot March an amused glance over her shoulder.
March felt robbed.
Teasing Ari was fun. He wanted to make her blush again. Make her squirm as he told her what he really thought of her. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted to collect more examples of her what her otherwise perfect mask looked like as it broke. He blanched.
Four beers were definitely his limit.
Without saying goodbye to Olric or Ryis and making a concerted effort not to acknowledge Ari's curious gaze, he slipped away from the inn and out into the surprisingly chilly night. The walk home sobered him up, at least enough for him to start to feel embarrassed by his behaviour.
It wasn't until March stumbled into his bed, his stomach churning with anxiety and alcohol, that he realised he still hadn't said thank you for his gift.
I am so screwed. He thought, before sleep claimed him.