On a Darkened Street (Freddie)

[Fiona Devlin]

:: She paused, waiting for the bartender to move to a patron on the otherside of the bar. It was mostly empty, but Fiona was still using discretion ::

"We live in the shadows, for obvious reasons. I feel like you're someone I can trust."

[Freddie Tibodeaux]

"Boo, you don't even know me."

Freddie lit up another Lucky Strike, leaning back as the smoke curled from his nostrils.

"I'm a jailbird. Done a dime down Angola way, dat's Looziana. Why you feel like trustin' me?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"No, I don't know you." she replied. "But I have a keen sense for the kind of man you are."

:: She looked at him intently, as though staring into his soul. They were the wide brown eyes of a young woman on the surface, but the gaze of a crone was scrutinizing him. It was an unsettling feeling, but it broke when she smiled ::

"Whatever you went to prison for doesn't concern me, Freddie."

:: She sipped her drink ::

"You've caught a glimpse of a much larger world tonight. There are those in this city who would kill you for that. Such a thing is not in my nature, and you don't strike me as the sort that cries Wolf. Or Witch."

[Freddie Tibodeaux]

"Hell, I ain't droppin no dimes now Boo. You'se secret safe wit me."

Freddie keep his voice low when de waitress bring de bourbon back. She went off 'gain and he speak up a lil.

"I'm assumin dis ain't yo first foray into homicide an such. How old you is, exactly?"

[Fiona Devlin]

:: There was a twinkle in her eye as she mused over the answer ::

"Old enough to remember Dragons in Midsummer."

[Freddie Tibodeaux]

De words done flew ova Freddie's head like a chickenhawk.

"Qui? Sorry, ain't much up on de classics. I got de notion you'se talkin centuries."

Freddie let out a slow whistle, sippin his bourbon contemplatively.

"Don't mind me askin boo, but what de beef about wit de headless gent?"

[Fiona Devlin]

"His name was Salih Shevger. I only know him by reputation. He was from the Ottoman Empire."