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Locke lazily tapped his nails against the table, slowly watching the condensation of his cup pool into a ring on the wooden table. His eyes flitted to your frame as you made another drink, sliding the glass across the wood with a smile. Looking back to meet the man’s eyes, you turned to give him your full attention.
“Is the drink not to your liking? I can always make a new one.” You muster a smile.
“If that makes you feel better, yes.”
You stifle a look of annoyance as you grab his drink and dump it. It gave you great displeasure to throw out those drinks, ingredients weren’t cheap y'know. This is the third night in a row he has come to this tavern. Locke, as you came to know him, doesn’t even do anything in particular, just ordering a drink to not even enjoy it.
Rather, it seems like… he’s watching, studying you. How unsettling.
The last customer leaves his coin before walking out the door, leaving you and the mysterious man alone. Your boss had already headed home for the night, trusting you with closing up shop.
You considered kicking the blonde man out, as you felt he had overextended his stay. Before you could open your mouth, he spoke first.
“Nice night, isn’t it?”
Tired from making drinks and carrying a customer service persona, you spoke honestly. “I don’t know. I haven’t been outside in seven hours.”
“Customers keeping you hostage, huh?”
Just like what you’re doing right now! You thought.
You focused your eye on the puddle pooled on the table, staring at your haggard expression before sighing and wiping the wood.
Once you start talking from the heart you can’t stop, you decide to ask him a question and point out his oddities.
“I’m not sure why you come here anyway if you aren’t going to drink. This is a tavern after all. What are you even here for?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. And plus, I don’t drink on the job.”
You snorted. “What’s your job? Stalking people?”
“Do you really want to know?” He leaned back in his chair.
I really don’t, you thought. But you nodded anyway.
“This tavern has been on my radar for quite a while. I heard it’s a demon hotspot. This place is crawling with unresolved emotions, always has been, but for the past few days it’s been stronger.”
He straightened out his back and continued. “At first I thought it was the man who just left but it still lingers. And the longer I stay here…” He looks at you amusingly.
“The stronger the feeling gets.”
You raise an eyebrow, urging him to get to the point.
“As a special kind of exorcist, it is my duty to stop the emotion before it attracts a demon. So tell me, dear bartender.” His glasses shone in the dim bar lights as he laid his chin in the palm of his hand. “What kind of painful emotion are you hiding?”
“No.”
“No?” Locke furrowed his brows.
“I’m not going to spill my problems onto some random cloaked man I met three days ago. That’s stupid. And how do I even know if you’re telling the truth?”
“You can’t. But if you knew me and my past, the last thing I’d want to do is lie. Lying starts something ugly.” He said.
You opt to mindlessly dry the last batch of washed glasses as he toyed with something that looked like nails between his fingers.
“It’s just a suggestion.” Locke hummed. “I can exorcise the eventual demons out of you but my work has a 100% mortality rate and I wouldn’t want such a pretty face to be burned to ash.”
You pause to look away in the distance, an unfamiliar warmth growing on your face. You must admit, the man before you was handsome and the more he buttered you up the more you felt compelled to speak.
“I guess I have felt more stressed these past few days than usual.”
“Go on.”
“My boss, the owner, is growing old. He wants someone to take over the tavern in the next months or so and that person is me. It’s a good deal. Lots of people come here for a good time, great for raking in money.” Your voice started to grow solemn at the last part.
“But is that what you want?” Locke interrupted.
“Well, I need to be able to afford necessities. You can’t just go through Runeterra without currency.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“No, it’s not.” You admitted.
You stared quietly at the hanging light above the two of you before speaking again.
“I always expected my life to be more exciting, something worth living for. And I tried to make it work but life just kept getting in the way. People’s expectations and hope for me kept holding me back. Then I realized, nothing is going to go my way. So why not just go with the flow?” A tear escaped your eye.
“Just keep going with the flow forever. Until I die.” You laughed bitterly. “Do you get what I mean?”
“I do, actually.” Locke answered, this time with a less cocky tone. You turn to look back at the man.
He continued. “I was raised… a certain way. To be a certain way. They… she modified me to do what she wanted. But it doesn’t have to truly be that way.”
The man lifted his cloak all the way to show an arm with strange markings.
“They engraved me with magic to do their bidding but I got the last laugh.”
“What did you do? Did you get revenge?” You stare at his arm with awe.
“I left. That’s the best thing you can do.” He laughed. “And now I’m free, I made this magic my own.”
He eventually covered his arm once again, shrouding the mesmerizing design which left you somewhat disappointed. Getting up from his seat, he leaves two coins at the table.
“For the drink and for being such lovely company.”
Walking towards the door, you stop him with a question.
“Will I get to see you again, Locke?”
“I’ll check in with you tomorrow to see how you’re doing and please, call me Corvin. I think we’re way past formalities now.” He winked cheekily.
The door bell chimed as he disappeared, leaving you alone to think as you turned off the lights for the night.
The next day Corvin arrived at the tavern, it was in utter chaos. He was bewildered to find an old man behind the counter, frantically making drinks for patrons.
“For goodness sake!” The man muttered, running back and forth from each customer. “Why’d they have to go now? And get this cursed paper out of my face!” He threw a note into the air which conveniently landed at Locke’s feet.
Picking up the slip, he read it quickly and smiled. He turned his heel and left the building, sensing his job was done.
Still holding onto the paper which read "I QUIT!”, he stuffed it into his pocket. He hoped this wasn’t the last he’d seen of the cute now ex-bartender.