Gin and Bitterness

Fandom: N/A - Based on my Saturday Dungeons and Dragons Campaign
Rating: G
Characters: Gyda Cahrel, Lazarus Maerret
Primary Pairings: Implied Gyda Cahrel/Lazarus Maerret
Word Count: 330

General Summary: After a botched job, Lazarus has crashed back at his reserved room at Madam Tatiana's, and Gyda, as usual, has questions,

Author’s Note: This is just a fun little prompt that was going to be about knifeplay but ended up being a short buddy comedy scene between my Lazarus and Katy's Gyda who are just both the absolute worst.

 

            “Do you do that often?” Lazarus glanced up from where he was finishing stitching up the stab wound in his side, an eyebrow raised questioningly, and Gyda rolled her eyes. “Stick a knife in whoever you’re fucking at the time.”

            At this, Lazarus pursed his lips and tilted his head back and forth for a bit, as if trying to count actual instances of that kind of behaviour over the past century of so. When he finally replied, it wasn’t with an answer, but instead, “With or without their wanting it?”

            Gyda shot him a look that told him, in everything but words, to drop the bullshit, and he sighed in lieu of the shrug he’d normally have given and went back to stitching himself up. “I haven’t stabbed anyone here if that’s what you’re asking. Tatiana would have my head.”

            He’d barely gotten the words out before Gyda snorted. “Among other things.”

            “Fair.” Wincing as he pulled the last of the stitches tight, he offered half a smile. “In any case, if the pay’s good enough, I’ll do it as often as necessary, I suppose.”

            “With or without their wanting it?”

            The mock-up of his accent was just good enough to make him laugh, then immediately cringe from the jolt of pain that came with it, and he flashed her a grin. “Depends on how good the pay is.”

            There was a long moment of silence, in which Lazarus felt his companion’s eyes on his back like the edge of a freshly sharpened blade dragged down his spine, and it seemed like ages before he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Though, if you’re wondering, I doubt you’ve got the money, ’Zerena.”

            She laughed. “You don’t think I could afford you?”

            Laying back on the bed, Lazarus stretched out his legs over the footboard and rested his head against her knee. “Not unless you’ve been very dishonest about your finances or political pull, darling.”

            At this, Gyda merely laughed.