“And I vill bring Jasey up viz’ patrons—see if any of z’em react strangely.”
Jarl smiles appreciatively and nods at Hagen, feeling better and lighter than he has in months. Even after everything that’s happened in the past week—getting Áesta on their side, finding where Jasey actually IS through Manus’ scrying, making their way towards it, learning Jasey’s not been HURT but taken care of, and even obtaining KANE’S NAME—the priest can’t lie: knowing his friends are with him, backing and supporting him, doing everything they can to help him, is the best and most comforting news he’s gotten.
For all that he appreciates what Manus and even Áesta (who said himself he’s just interested in being FED) are doing, the support of his childhood best friends just… means so much more to him.
In a way he can’t quite describe. They’re just… family.
And being backed by your family is just…
Everything.
~
“I also think we should talk more often.”
Sophie blinks and points to herself almost comically when Jarl says this while looking at her. Jarl smiles.
“You’re right: I’m keeping too much from you; and while it’d originally been out of fear of your reaction—how you’d handle this knowledge and my decision—I can see now that my fears were unfounded.”
“You bet your BUTT they were!” Sophie looks frustrated and even slightly wounded as she angrily points but still whispers her words rather than scream them as they all know she wants to—for Manus (and the hotel). “I love the BOTH of you and as INSANE as all this magic business is…” Sophie deflates, normally flat face melting into something Jarl can only describe as heartfelt. “I’ll do ANYTHING to get Jasey back home…”
Jarl feels her love for him and wonders, idly, if this is how Áesta feeds, “I know; I should have known then, too, but I was a fool; so let’s end that now and make our conversations a bit more frequent, too.”
“Ich can teach you how to use z’e Lay Tablet, if you wish?” Hagen gestures at the space between the three so there’s no confusion in case Sophie wasn’t aware what the device was called. She glares at it for a moment, still disliking magic as Jarl once was (although he’s unsure if he actually LIKES it now…), but eventually nods.
“I’d appreciate that, yes.”
“Thanks, Hagen.”
~
The Lay Tablet shuts down by itself, it seems, as long as at least one side closes off the link.
Jarl’s relieved by this fact as he honestly never paid that part of the process any attention. He regrets much.
Pushing that thought aside, however, he glances back at the bed and wonders what to do with himself.
He could go back to sleep, obviously. But the idea of laying down beside Manus, now, is…
Well, it’s uncomfortable, if he can be honest.
And, now that the call is over and Jarl no longer has to worry about trying to explain a DAEMON to Sophie, the priest is left to wonder: where IS their resident daemon? He was still here when Jarl passed out.
Did he leave while they were asleep?
(But why?)
Jarl could think of plenty of reasons a human might but he honestly doesn’t know enough about daemons—or even Áesta, specifically—to hazard a guess. Manus might know, being more familiar and Áesta’s friend, but Jarl can’t wake the magician, now, after spending an hour keeping both Sophie and Hagen quiet for him.
Talk about rude.
So, after checking everywhere in SR1 (just to confirm that the little devil hadn’t been just hiding somewhere), Jarl quickly grabs his red coat—the newer one, just in case—and dons it with his shoes before heading out.
~
The first places he checks are the front desk and the bar.
They’re the busiest places of the hotel (that he can access, anyway; he’s pretty sure the REAL busiest place here is the kitchen; but a guest wouldn’t be allowed back there) and Áesta seems to gravitate to that—towards attention—so he figured it’d be the safest bet to start his search. But the hour is against him: although you can check in at any time—according to the pamphlets and sign-in sheet still on the front desk—2 o’clock in the morning is… well, that’s pushing it.
Even for the bar.
While most wet bars Jarl knows of in Shantown close sometime around midnight (out of respect, some say), there’s a couple on the outskirts that respectfully decline to close before 4 AM. Jarl finds this mostly fine since the majority of those that need to work in the morning don’t risk going to those bars, anyway; but, every once in a while, he gets a confession or two about it and has to thank God those fringe bars close before sunup and STAY closed (unlike some bars he’s heard of in big cities) instead of tempting people.
Still, this place doesn’t seem like the fringe bars back home but the midnight ones, instead.
But at least there’s someone at the front desk.
~
Britta’s husband is that someone.
Tobias (if Jarl is remembering correctly) smiles comfortingly at Jarl when he sees him, waving him over and getting him a cuppa to go with his own. It’s camomile, meant to sooth, but Jarl can smell the inn keeper’s tea via his set’s cup and knows the man is serving himself English Breakfast—with sugar, it seems, which is fair.
He must have the nightshift while Britta takes the day.
How sweet.
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