I was sat opposite him half dozing and half watching him fiddle with his weapons, cleaning his knives and sharpening his arrows. He saw me watching and smiled, then in the blink of an eye he was across the room, in front of me.
'I love how humans believe that these will protect them; I could crush this with my fingers'
He was holding the crucifix I wore round my neck his hand, inspecting it carefully and chuckling quietly to himself. Suddenly he stopped laughing and looked down at me his piercing pitch-black eyes he seemed to be searching for something deep within my own. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end; there was so much danger behind those eyes.
I remember the first time I saw him as vividly as if it was just yesterday. At that time I was living in Manchester above a small bar I owned, on the day I met him I was stood behind the bar nursing a whiskey, the sound of the door made me jump. It was still early evening and although the bar was open I wasn’t expecting anyone,
‘I’m sorry I did not mean to startle you’ the voice was gentle and he placed every syllable so carefully and precisely ‘is the bar open, I realise its early but I saw the lights on’
Before he spoke I was going to tell him the bar was closed but there was something in his voice which made me change my mind. I motioned him to a seat in front of the bar
‘What can I get for you?’ I asked my voice sounding harsh against his soft elegant tones
‘Scotch’ he responded so softly I almost missed it. As I busied myself in getting him his drink the bar was as silent as if he wasn’t here at all.
‘On the rocks?’ I asked putting the glass on the bar
‘No, Straight up thank you’ he replied
I smiled as I poured his whiskey ‘there you go sir, first ones on the house, oh and I’m Comfort by the way, I own the bar’
‘Well Comfort you can’t make much money if every first drink is free’ he remarked not looking up from his drink.
‘No. I wouldn’t, would I? Which really means it’s a good thing that the first drink isn’t free for everyone, just for the people I like the look of’ I responded. He looked up from his drink catching my eye, this was the first time I felt that fear which sent shivers down my spine, only back then I didn’t know why his eyes scared and excited me like they do. Dragging my eyes away from his intoxicating stare I busied my self cleaning the bar and I tried to strike up a conversation
‘Where are you from? I’ve never seen you in here before and I don’t recognise your accent’ I asked with genuine interest. His accent was strange, not English even though he spoke it fluently but like a mix of many distant accents all moulded in to one oddly appealing voice.
‘I am from very far from here and at the same time not far at all’ he replied and that cryptic response was the only thing I could get from him for a long time. We just sat and sipped our drinks until the door opened again breaking our quiet contemplations; this was the beginning of the slow drizzle of my regulars entering. I was kept fairly busy getting their drinks and listening to their stories and their moaning, but could barely take my eyes off him. He just sat their slowly sipping his drink, not speaking to anyone just staring off in to nothingness. I was watching him, waiting him to move or finish his drink anything so I could speak to him or interact with him in just some small way.
Suddenly there was a loud crash someone had knocked their glass onto the floor, I ran over to clean it up before anyone got hurt. I looked back after a split second and he was gone, silently and swiftly he had left leaving me feeling strangely empty.
