Chapter Text
There was blood in the water over by the pool table. Something had the local scum riled up. They shifted and fluttered about instead of holding their normal stagnant positions. He came here every night and every night was just about the same. So what was disturbing his status quo?
Sandor frequented this particular dive for a few reasons. One his brother never set foot in it. Two, the ale was cheap. And three, that was a combination. Dimly lit corners he could huddle his large frame into, the same dim light hiding the things he didn’t need pointed out to him, particularly his face. The bar maids who worked this joint were passed their prime and had seen plenty of shit in their time. They paid him little mind as they made their rounds swapping his dead soldiers for fresh bottles without so much as a nod, blink or peep out of them. Suited him just fine, he wasn’t a social butterfly and if he got friendly they might start expecting better tips.
He kept his eye on the collection of local shit bags still quite unsettled across the room. He was curious but not curious enough to walk across that room. The pool tables and jukebox demanded more lighting than he was comfortable with so he continued the drain on the newest bottle left at his table still eyeing the activity on the other side of the tavern.
His face was fucked but his eyesight and hearing were excellent and he kept picking up the colorful exclamations coming for the locals. Someone was racking up quite the little collection of victims at the pool table. One by one they were losing their asses and their rent money. Quite funny this. Pool sharks? Was that even a thing anymore and after the first few victims, why were they still challenging?
It was late enough, time to drag his ass back to his room and pass out for the night only to wake up and do it all over again. He sorted out his pockets making sure nothing got knicked, wallet, phone and keys all where they should be. He fished a wad of small bills from his pant pocket and as he did he felt eyes on him. He’d been stared at enough in his life to know the feeling. Lifting his eyes off his cash, intent on giving the death glare to whoever had the balls to so blatantly stare at him.
Looking back at him were a pair of eyes he thought he’d never see again. Sharper and more focused than maybe they had been in the past but that particular shade of ice blue was unmistakable. He found the shark and she was every bit a predator. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He dropped a few bills on the table, enough to cover his tab and keep ole Mary from spitting in his beer and ploughed his way over to the door. That one was trouble and he best get his shit and go, forget he ever saw her.
He got to his bike, turned on the gas put the key in the ignition and looked up just in time to meet those eyes again.
“Where you running off to Dog?”