Gerta’s warm smile falters just slightly at your first request, her brow furrowing in confusion.

[b]“Celestial’s Cocktail?”[/b] She scratches her head, glancing back at her impressive array of bottles behind the bar. [b]“Can’t say I’ve heard of that one, sugar. We got plenty of good spirits, but that ain’t ringin’ any bells…”[/b]

You press on, watching her carefully. [b]“Guardian’s Gin? Shield Spritzer? Jury’s Sanctuary?”[/b]

With each name, you try to convey the urgency in your eyes, willing her to understand what you’re really asking for.

Something shifts in Gerta’s expression. Her eyes sharpen, and she straightens up slightly, her easy demeanor taking on a more focused edge. She glances briefly toward the swinging doors, then back to you, her face carefully neutral now.

[b]“Ah,”[/b] she says, her voice dropping just a touch lower, though still maintaining that warm drawl. [b]“Y’know what, darlin’? I think what you need is a quiet spot to catch your breath till you feel safe again. Why don’t you come with me?”[/b]

She gestures for you to follow her, heading toward a door behind the bar. She calls out to one of the other servers, [b]“Mick! Cover the bar for a minute, would ya?”[/b]

Gerta leads you through the doorway and down a short hallway, the noise of the tavern fading slightly behind you. She opens another door, revealing a smaller, private room.

The space is unexpectedly rich. Large cloths in deep reds, golds, and midnight blues hang on the walls, their patterns full of shapes and lines. Low cushioned seating lines the sides, piled with pillows in bright colors. A brass lantern hangs from the ceiling, casting warm, patterned light. The floor has thick rugs layered on top of each other. A low table sits in the center, decorated with shiny white shell pieces in swirling designs.

Behind a carved wooden desk sits a gnomish woman. She wears flowing green and gold silks, clearly expensive clothes. Her dark hair is swept up, held in place with golden pins. She’s counting coins, sorting them into different bags, a book open in front of her.

She looks up as you enter, her sharp brown eyes studying you.

[b]“Miss Thornwick,”[/b] Gerta says, [b]“this here’s Kalila. She needs a safe place to breathe for a bit. Maybe y’all can chat in the meantime?”[/b] She gives you a reassuring nod. [b]“I gotta get back to the bar, but you’re in good hands here, darlin’.”[/b]

With that, Gerta slips back out, closing the door behind her.

Miss Thornwick sets down her quill and regards you with a businesslike expression, though not unkind.

[b]“Well then,”[/b] she says, her voice measured. [b]“Sit if you like. What seems to be the trouble?”[/b]

[hr]
[b]What do you do?[/b]