>>6149658Finally, you turn your attention to An-Yii, whose sour expression and crossed arms tell you all you need to know: she’s waiting tell you off for trying to pass off praise as a substitute for actual, tangible reward. Nobody here (except maybe CZ) was ever going to accept a bunch for petty words in lieu of payment, of course—you know that, they know that—but An-Yii is easily the closest to quitting. Thing is: she’s a bit of a bitch, and under other circumstances you might say ‘fuck it, go!’ These AREN’T other circumstances, though, and so you speak from the heart, AND you back it up.
“‘Course, given the odds, an’ that fatality rate I was talkin’ about, none a’ that fuckin’ matters if we ain’t got a medic ta’ keep us all on our feet an’ alive. If it weren’t for you An-Yii, we’d have been fuckin’ dead—or good as dead—down in the lair. Cara-Zi’d be all kidns a’ fucked up from yesterday. Hell, it was you that helped harvest that centipede venom, too, so our payday today’s partly yer doin’, too. Don’t think I missed that.”
An-Yii’s prepared speech of protect and rebellion dies in her throat as her high, pale-green cheeks darken and turn pink at the lavish praise.
“Th-that’s all… Even if you say that’s hit, it’s still…”
You hold up a hand, and nod sagely.
“it’s still a piss-off, travelin’ out here, puttin’ yer life on the line, an’ not comin’ out ahead. Next job’ll more’n make up for it, of course, BUT if anybody here deserves ta’ not wait ‘til then for some proper payback it’s our doc. AMIRITE?!”
Everyone else jumps a bit at your sudden shout, and under your gaze (and after your speech), none can do anything else but agree. Cara-Zi’s the most enthusiastic, of course, either mirroring your mood, still excited about the picnic, or maybe trying to make up for her earlier incident’ with An. Whatever the reason, you’re confident nobody will object when you unfurl your papery package to reveal your purchase, and hand it to An-Yii.
“H-huh?”
“That’s barleywine,” you say with a grin, tapping the bottle in her hands with the back of your knuckles. “yeast, wheat, hops, ‘n all that good shit from down in the farmlands around Hawksong, ‘n berries ‘n shift from around here for a bit a’ flavour, aged in local barrels. Go it special for ya’, as a thanks from all of us.”
An-Yii stares at it, then up at you.
“This isn’t… I don’t need… I didn’t ask for this!”
“Didn’t need to,” you say with a wink and a nudge. “Plus, it’s twelve-percent, too.”
An licks her lips a little.
“So, whaddaya’ say?" you press. "Down for one more gig?”
<span class="mu-b"> Yeb-Uit’s Morale: Stable
Khorine’s Morale: High
An-Yii’s Morale: High</span>
“…Fuck it.”
