Marcellus was seated in a chair at one of the empty tables. It was late - or early - depending on your perspective he supposed. It was past closing time, and no one remained except himself and Grisham still in the back.
The man was an idiot Marcellus thought to himself. He had brought the ire of the Bloodstone's down upon himself. Idiot or not though, Grisham had brought a change upon the place and Marcellus himself these past few days.
When Grisham had first walked through the doors of the Rusty Nail, the place was on its last legs. It was fading away, and no one would notice the last whisper of life before it was snuffed out. Grisham had brought the place a second chance. He had a determination to match his idiocy. Something Marcellus had once known, before...
Well, before it all ended. Still he had been comfortable with his new life, and took well to the role his father had always intended for him. Taking over his father's business when he passed had brought him a sense of purpose and contentment. Until that too faded. He couldn't really pin exactly when he had given up on the place. It had crept up on him so subtly that he didn't even notice at first.
When the Iron Jackals had turned up, he had rebuffed them without question. It was then that the realization struck him. He had turned them away because it was what was expected of him. A duty even. That's just how it was. An unspoken agreement between Lupaix, and the Bloodstones. But there had been no passion in him. No conviction. No fire.
The Iron Jackals had sense it. When the vandalism had started, there was no question in Marcellus as to who was behind it. He could have gone to the Bloodstones, but he had instead chose to weather it in silence. As dead inside as the Iron Nail had become.
And then there was Grisham. He had stirred old memories in Marcellus, and brought him out of his monotony. Hours after Ragenard had departed and the bar had closed up, he had remained. The quietness of the place had given him the peace to just... remember.
Deep beneath the blanket of weariness and apathy, he realized he did care. That care was a tentative thing though, kindled by the enthusiasm and determination Grisham had brought to the place. Would it remain if Grisham did not? He was unsure.
He sighed and waited. Only time would tell if Grisham would emerge. And how broken he would be if he did.
The man was an idiot Marcellus thought to himself. He had brought the ire of the Bloodstone's down upon himself. Idiot or not though, Grisham had brought a change upon the place and Marcellus himself these past few days.
When Grisham had first walked through the doors of the Rusty Nail, the place was on its last legs. It was fading away, and no one would notice the last whisper of life before it was snuffed out. Grisham had brought the place a second chance. He had a determination to match his idiocy. Something Marcellus had once known, before...
Well, before it all ended. Still he had been comfortable with his new life, and took well to the role his father had always intended for him. Taking over his father's business when he passed had brought him a sense of purpose and contentment. Until that too faded. He couldn't really pin exactly when he had given up on the place. It had crept up on him so subtly that he didn't even notice at first.
When the Iron Jackals had turned up, he had rebuffed them without question. It was then that the realization struck him. He had turned them away because it was what was expected of him. A duty even. That's just how it was. An unspoken agreement between Lupaix, and the Bloodstones. But there had been no passion in him. No conviction. No fire.
The Iron Jackals had sense it. When the vandalism had started, there was no question in Marcellus as to who was behind it. He could have gone to the Bloodstones, but he had instead chose to weather it in silence. As dead inside as the Iron Nail had become.
And then there was Grisham. He had stirred old memories in Marcellus, and brought him out of his monotony. Hours after Ragenard had departed and the bar had closed up, he had remained. The quietness of the place had given him the peace to just... remember.
Deep beneath the blanket of weariness and apathy, he realized he did care. That care was a tentative thing though, kindled by the enthusiasm and determination Grisham had brought to the place. Would it remain if Grisham did not? He was unsure.
He sighed and waited. Only time would tell if Grisham would emerge. And how broken he would be if he did.
