“’69,” Jer Left Horn pronounced, reading the
year address above the door to the hitherto unvisited castle.
“And then the suggestion to set your draw distance to 96.
Sounds like my kind of place.” He sets his draw distance to 96 meters and opens the door….
It was his kind of place.
He finds his way to the bar upstairs. He starts trying to dig up more information about the caves, about End of Time itself. Big Ass Franz the bartender was compliant enough. Jer Left Horn has found that about everyone directly associated with the estate is pretty friendly and open. Good qualities to work with in an investigation. Or pleasantries attached to such a task. Cloe Price is the prime exception so far. Fran — tough exterior but eventually caved. He left her back in his cabin to make this night trek. He’d spotted the castle door at the canal the day before and earmarked it for a visit.
“Cats?” returned Franz, knowing Jer Left Horn was getting into deeper territory; unknown passages.
“Yeah, I’ve heard…”
“That they’re part human? Some of them anyway.”
“Yeeaahh,” Jer Left Horn said back, getting more information off the top than he expected. “That tooo.”
Franz looked around the establishment, at the pictures. “You can’t have them. That’s forbidden fruit.”
“Say’s who?” Jer Left Horn hated for people to tell him what he could and couldn’t do. Being royalty all your life will turn you into that.
Jer Left Horn turns slightly on his barrel seat, hiding his horn a bit more from Franz. He strokes his chin wisely. He looks at the pictures too. He’s now more determined than ever to meet one of these cat-people. “Do you *know* any of ’em?” he decides to ask.
Franz wipes down the bar, as if distracted. “Just one,” he managed.
“Welll? What’s her name?” Jer Left Horn didn’t have to ask the sex. He could tell from the bartender’s actions that he loved this creature a bit.
“Rebl,” came the answer. After saying her name, Big Ass Franz excused himself and went in back to have a little sob.