My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

The restroom door remained closed shut.

Seriously, not even a peek.

Was she really about to stay cooped up in there no matter how long it took? Just how badly does she want to avoid this lecture? I'm almost tempted to not text her, and see how long she'd keep this up. 

But I'll pass on that experiment for now. I value my life too much… and if this pact doesn't kill me itself, then she most certainly will herself. 

So without wasting another moment, I fished my phone from my vest pocket, swiping my way to our shared messages, and began quietly muttering under my breath as I wrote out each word.

[[Your boss is gone, you can come out now. Good news, he didn't see you.]] 

Short, simple, and concise. Just the way she likes it… I think. 

It was in that split-second before I could send the message that it happened. A split-second interruption approaching our table in the form of a diligent waiter's generosity. 

A bottle of wine coming in-between my phone and my eyes, along with a voice, "May I interest you in a bottle of Coche-Dury Corton-Charlemagne Grand Gru? I daresay it makes for the perfect drink for the perfect evening occasion."

I looked up at him, seriously confused as to why I was suddenly being tossed a sales pitch to buy some Coachella-Duty Cotton-Whatever by some random waiter. Is this common practice in high-end establishments or something? 

"Umm, no thanks, pal," I told him, glancing back down on my phone. "I don't drink."

"Oh, I see, my apologies," He said, sounding the least bit apologetic. "If that's the case, what about your date? I can personally vouch that she'll more than appreciate you for it. Chardonnay is a lady's best friend, after all."

"She doesn't drink either."

"Ah, what a shame," The bottle finally left my sight, slinking from view as he stepped away. "Well, should that ever change, just know you'll find me by the bar."

I didn't wanna say anything in case he somehow managed to revitalize his sales pitch, instead, I waited and watched him walk away… thinking back on how slightly bizarre the whole thing was. 

The message on my phone continued to remain unsent, something that was only a split-second away from rectifying with just the simple press of a thumb… but for some reason, I just couldn't.

For some reason, my gaze simply refused to turn back. There was just something… something amiss. There was something about the encounter - something about him… that just seems strangely off. 

Strangely familiar.

I stood up.

Was it his voice?

I walked.

His face?

I reached the bar counter.

How fucking expensive the price tag on that bottle was?

Briefly, my eyes wandered to the still closed restroom door, even briefer, to the bright glare of my phone display, dimming one second, shutting off the next. Sorry Irene, but you're just gonna have to wait just a little bit longer.

Another five minutes, perhaps.

I took an empty seat nearest to the cashier. The furthest place away from the other customers, the ones with the loosened tie, the crinkled coats, drowning down their troubles and sorrows an icy gulp at a time.

"Oh wow, you change your mind fast, don't you?" 

From out a swinging 'employees only' doorway, he found me in an instant. Pleased at the sight of me, but not entirely surprised by it. Like he was expecting it, wanting it.

"You saw the price, too much? I suppose you've come to make a deal, bargain?" He rubbed his hands, smiling with glee. "No problem. Money's a good leverage, after all."

Bargain, deal, leverage. Barely even being subtle about it, isn't he?

Ignoring a raised customer's hand, waving away the finger-tappings on another's empty glass, as he made a beeline straight for me. I watched him, assessed him, a bowtie fitted tight on a collared white uniform, black slack pants atop of leather shoes with a glossy black finish. 

A normal bartender/waiter guy by any normal standard… just not by my standards.

"So I'm thinking 2100 is a good starting point, and we can build our way from there," He took a wet cup from beneath the countertop, before beginning to wipe at it with a damp cloth. "What do you say? I can get very lenient on the pricing, boss says so long as it manages to sell I get a cut… and I really could do with some extra on the side, you know?"

How does he do it? Seriously, how? To look me dead in the eye with pleasantries, to speak to me so carefree, so nonchalantly, that you'd think the past week and a half was nothing but a damn fever dream.

But it wasn't. He wasn't.

"Where're your glasses, Jay?" I said, softly, quietly… watching warily close his lips stiffening, his hands freezing. "Couldn't get around to replacing it?"

Eventually, after the longest moment of silence yet, he continued wiping the cup, scouring it up and down with a closed eye for any water droplets he might have missed.

"I'm between jobs at the moment," He said, as casually as one can say. "On account of your… intervention. Things have been tight on the financial side of things, I'm sad to say. Replacements would have to wait for a while." 

"Between jobs…" I scoffed. "There's no spell to just conjure up money? Or better yet, just summon up a new pair of glasses?"

"Yeah, you'd think it'd be that simple, right?" He chuckled, wiping at the inner rims now. "But nope, conjuration's a fickle type of magic. Different methods for different objects… it's not very cost-efficient, nor worth the time and effort… especially when you already have other grander things planned." 

I could feel the surface of my palms sting as my nails slowly burrowed deep. "What are you planning, Jay? What the hell are you doing here?"

Still with one eye clamped shut, Jay nudged at the door he emerged from, hissing a dejected sigh as he did. "Trying to sell that damn bottle, for one. I've had it for a week, no offers. I honestly don't get it. It's a good bottle too."

"I guess even evil maniacal megalomaniacs need to make a living too, I suppose." 

He smirked at that, and content with his efforts, stowed away the cup. "Ain't that the truth."

"But you know that's not what I'm asking."

Jay reached for another glass. "True too."

This was not what was supposed to happen tonight. None of this was in the books. It was just supposed to me, Irene, and a night to enjoy. Since when did this bastard wedge himself into the script? Out of all nights, he just had to pick tonight.

Did he do it on purpose? Was it purely coincidence? Does it even matter anymore? He was here now, wasn't he? And so was I. 

"You came up to me for a reason, revealed yourself for a reason," I said, keeping my voice leveled, calm. "What is that reason?"

"Listen, all I saw here tonight was a dashing man and a lovely woman out on a special romantic occasion, and so here I am, a passing part-time bartender thinking I could benefit out of this man's generosity and net myself a few bucks in the process. There, that's my entire reasoning."

You go to a world-renowned bank robber in a bank and you ask what he's doing, he tells you he's just opening a savings account, do you believe him? Bullshit has never smelled more shitty. 

"Is that seriously it?" I said, raising my tone slightly. "After days of being nowhere to be found, after so close to destroying this town, killing me, that's really it? That's all you want to do now?"

"Yes, it is," He said, his voice also growing equally sharp. "So how about we try to keep it that way, alright?"

"I don't believe you."

"I never demanded that you do, I'm just telling you the facts as is," He said, the glimmer of the cup momentarily reflecting an almost dangerous sheen in his gaze. "Now, I can do 1870… but that's the lowest I'll allow myself to go, so what do you say?"

Secretive. Uncooperative. Belligerent. 

Just as I remembered.

"Forget it," I said, swiveling myself off of my seat. "Way beyond my price range, anyway."

I wasn't simply going to let things go as is. He was right here. Jay was right here. Served up on a silver platter, almost ripe for the picking… and if my senses haven't failed me yet, also magicless, powerless.

What's a better time than now?

I'm gonna need some backup.

In a grip nearly trembling, I flickered on my phone… hovered my thumb close to the button, and it was in that split-second before I could send the message that it happened. 

Another split-second interruption.

Jay shot his hand forward, seized my arm tight, his fingers nearly digging into my skin. 

"Hey now," He said lightly. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Well, why not?" I challenged him. "You've no magic, no means of escape. I feel sure enough."

"And if you call her, if you bust me, which I assure you, I have enough magic to ensure you won't be able to, and you ruin both your nights, your moods, I ask you," He leaned in closer. "Will you live to see through the morning? Are you really gonna risk a romantic evening, just for a null chance of catching me?"

How did he… How the…?

"How did you know about - ?"

"The pact?" He raised his brows. "Kinda speaks for itself, you don't suppose? You're going out with a succubus, for one, a red flag already. She looks angsty, you look angsty, and it helps I know the signs of a succubus pact approaching its expiration date when I see one, trust me. The aura around her… it's a strong one."

One by one, slowly, he pried his fingers loose, offering a kind smile, and even kinder advice.

"The way I see it. You have two options here: One is you call that detective of yours now, you spend half the night on a wild-goose chase for me, never once close to catching me, and you die by sunrise… because you're an idiot."

I kept my scowl and thinned my lips. "And the second one?"

"You call your date, you sit back down on your table, act like nothing was ever amiss… and you enjoy your evening together, and perhaps, who knows, maybe you'll get to see a new tomorrow after all."

"But you'll be gone."

"But  I'll be gone," He affirmed with a nod. "But not for long, I feel. If you're really that deadset on finding me, you'll find me. Or I'll find you. I'm still not done with you, after all. You still have something that's mine." 

I shook my head. "Ash isn't yours."

"Keep telling yourself that," He said, drawing his hand away. "But for now, the choice is yours. The phone's in your hand. What are you gonna do now?"