"Betcha can't beat me," the little bugger smirked, curving his forearm slightly as his elbow settled on the bar.

   With a scoff, Adam knocked back another shot and plunked the glass down just inches from his challenger's elbow. "Bet I can." Curving his own arm forward, he psyched himself up for the struggle about to come.

   The dim lights of the cantina danced in the opponent's golden eyes; eyes so full of mischief that reminded Adam of an old friend. This strange fellow, in his offensively human getup, chuckled indignantly, "No. Your word isn't enough. Place your bets, or I win automatically."

   Had he not been half plastered, Adam might have punched this twerp's face out the other side of his head. But as he was a lightweight and several drinks in, all he felt was a cocky sort of confidence only fae alcohol can give. He pulled the drawstring pouch of trading units–money his father had given him for errands–and placed it beside his empty shot glasses.

    "There," he huffed. "Now let's see yours."

   Unease briefly shadowed the opponent's expression but was quickly replaced with the same smug demeanor as this scrap had shown since their little scuffle outside the market.

   "I paid for your drink, shouldn't that suffice?" the golden-eyed boy purred, nodding to the scatter of shot glasses to Adam's left.

   Impaired as he was, Adam knew better. "No, that doesn't count. Your money. Show it."

   "How much you got?"

   "As much as I have," Adam snapped, raising an eyebrow. Setting his hand over the money-pouch in a protective stance, he leveled his gaze at the boy. "Your money. Now."

   With a roll of those golden eyes, the character reached into his pocket–was he wearing jeans?!–and pulled out a solid bar of gold, his expression growing all the more smug as he plunked it down. "Satisfied?"

   "Shoot," Adam hissed under his breath, wondering if his father's funds were enough to counter it. Oh well, it wasn't like this was an auction. All he had to do was beat this little brat, take the money and the gold, and be on his merry way.

   "Oh, and if you lose, I not only get to keep your money, but you have to take me home with you," the golden-eyed street rat grinned.

   Adam wasn't listening at this point, so sure that he would be out of here in no time. Absent-mindedly, he downed a few more shots. Wondered why he always ended up in these sorts of situations. Dreaded the outcome, but foolishly believed he could control it.

   It was a blur. The boys squared up for their arm wrestling match. Three rounds, all in a matter of seconds, and Adam lost each one.

   "REMATCH!" he demanded, standing on the bar and watching in dismay as the golden-eyed kid gathered the money.

   "Maybe some other time," the victor muttered, his tone thick with smugness as he hefted Adam's coin pouch, which bore the family crest on the leather. "You lost, I won. Fair and square."

   "It was not fair! You cheated!"

   "Get off the bar, people are staring."

   "WELL THEY OUGHT TO! THEY OUGHTA KNOW THERE'S A CHEATER IN THEIR MIDST!"

   "Look around, man. Nobody cares if ya cheat here. It's a saloon, idiot. Now get down, you drunk ass fool."

   "It's your fault I'm drunk. You didn't even drink. You got me drunk, but you stayed sober, and that's how you cheated."

   "Non, fool," the golden-eyed boy countered pointedly. "You have little to no willpower. It is your fault you're drunk, not mine."

   "You paid. You enabled me."

   "Still your fault. You didn't have to drink," he shrugged.

   Adam snarled and leapt off the bar, pushing through the swarms of barhoppers toward the back door. He could already feel the sickness taking place from having so much whiskey in his system, and his movements were beginning to show it. He'd barely made it through before being tackled from behind.

   "Take me home with you!"

   "What–"

   "I said, take me home with you! You lost the bet, that means you get to take me home!"

   Straddling the scrawny boy's back, the golden-eyed brat held up the money-pouch and grinned. Adam scowled and summoned his shadow to remove the boy before pulling himself up and vomiting in one of the planters near the door.

   The golden-eyed boy's jubilant face twisted into a sneer of disgust. Once Adam had finished vomiting, the boy handed him a clean rag. "I'll get you some water."

   Adam just glared and sat shakily on the clay steps, putting his head on his knees. He shouldn't have had so much...and what would Daddyman say when he returned without the goods? He fumbled in his wraps, pulling out the crumpled parchment on which his father had scrawled a list of things to get. In his intoxicated state, the ink seemed blurry to him, and he was compelled to put the list away.

   "Sorry, there was a line." A clean flask appeared in Adam's unsteady field of vision and was soon replaced by the face of the brat who'd bested him just moments ago. The brat waved a hand in his face, "Hey...don't disappear. I got water." The flask was shoved into Adam's hands; the metal was cold and felt like he was once more gripping reality, but it wasn't enough. He was fading, and fast.

   Or so he thought.

   Burning, a rough slap to the face jolted him to rights. "Wh-what the–"

   "I said, I got you water. Drink it." Golden Eyes glared before joining him on the steps. Adam glowered but drank the water in slow, careful sips. It wouldn't make him sober right away, but he was already feeling better. Though...the water had an odd flavor...

   Water sprayed from his mouth as he realized, "DID YOU SPIT IN THIS?!"

   Golden Eyes stomped on Adam's left foot, "Of course not! I put venom in it! It'll give you a raincheck on that hangover so we can get home in one piece!"

   "I'm not taking you with me!"

   "Yes you are. You lost the bet, and it's part of the deal." He held up the money pouch and tapped the crest embossed on the leather.

   "Why...?" Adam groaned. His head hurt, and he was feeling nauseous not only from being drunk but also from the knowledge that this boy had put his own venom in the water.

   "Because." Golden Eyes suddenly looked vulnerable, his smugness evaporating.

   "I don't remember agreeing to that part of the bet."

   "Doesn't matter."

   "I didn't offer."

   "You're in no position to make demands, nor are you in any position to deny what's rightfully mine."

   "I don't have to take you home. And I don't want to."

   This earned him another blow to the face, and this time he swore he saw stars.

   "Just drink your water and shut up, you babbling drunkard," grunted the brat.

   "No."

   The brat rolled his eyes and stood up, "You're impossible. Where's the list?"

   "What list?"

   "You know what list. You're here on errands, you think I wouldn't be able to tell? Besides, I can smell the ink. It's not like the kind we use around here."

   Muttering a string of slurs and profanities, Adam pulled the parchment from his wraps again and handed it to the golden-eyed boy. He expected the rat to run off with it, but instead the boy grabbed Adam and hoisted him to his feet. "C'mon, sailor. Let's go shopping."

   And so it was that Golden Eyes should drag Adam from stall to stall, picking up the items from the parchment list and forcing Adam to carry them in his shadow. By the end of it Adam was even more irritated and decided he'd just leave. But the boy tackled him again, and at this point Adam was too ill to fight back. Golden Eyes forced Adam to make a portal and piggybacked the entire way back to Shadowfen, Adam cursing and grumbling the entire way.

   Within a few feet of the house, which seemed to be nothing but a facade built onto a cave, the boys were spotted by Adam's father, who strode over to meet them. "I see you've brought another one home," he grinned pleasantly.

   Adam scowled as he tried to wrestle Golden Eyes off his shoulders, "Please let me kill him."

   "You will do nothing of the sort," Galinarael replied sternly. "That is not the way of our people, and you know it." He then motioned for the brat to come down. Golden Eyes did as he was bid, and passed the money pouch to Adam's father. There was still some left over, as they had been especially efficient in getting what they needed for as little as they could. Golden Eyes was skilled in bargaining.

   Galinarael raised his eyebrows, "Surely you didn't bring a pickpocket home to be punished?"

   "I wish," Adam growled, shaking himself off and stomping toward the porch. His father and the golden-eyed boy walked behind him, their pace much slower and their voices low. Not that he was listening to what they were saying, anyhow. He wanted one thing at this moment and one thing only: a bath. A hot, steamy, candlelit bath with plenty of bubbles as well as scented oils and rosepetals to help him sober up and relax.

   He slunk inside as quickly as he could in such an exhausted state and quickly deposited the goods from within his shadow, though he hoarded some items out of spite for his father. With most of the extra weight gone it was much easier for him to move through the cave, and he quickly prepared a bath and was relaxing in no time.

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To be continued...

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