Breakfast

I woke up with more energy than I'd had for weeks. Maybe I shouldn't underestimate sleeping.

The rising sun's light bled into the room through a window on the far end from the door. The others were still sleeping as I rolled myself out of bed. I went downstairs, where I heard the commotion of other visitors heading out to live their lives.

Once down the stairs, I crossed past the lavish lobby, into a large square room with several tables. Men and women in rough clothing and with various hair colors were seated and eating from bowls. One table, raised slightly higher than others and towards an edge of the room, had a group with cleaner clothing. I got a noble vibe from them, so I ignored them, rounding a corner to the serving bar. It was set up so that the serving bar was around the corner from the lobby, and the host could move quickly between the two.

At the moment, a sunset-orange-haired girl served a rougher-looking man a bowl of something. she was probably about twelve, and her hair was braided in two strands and was just long enough to pass her shoulders. She glanced at me with large, sun-yellow eyes before the man reached over the counter towards her. She swatted his hand away.

"You have your food, sir," she said, "go eat it before it gets cold." Then she walked away from the man, and to me, slightly down the bar. "You here for breakfast, sir?"

"It come..." I started to ask in my stammering way.

"Yes, sir," she snapped impatiently, "it comes with the room, but only breakfast."

"Okay. Yes?"

"Alright. Let me get that for you, then."

She left my sight, going around the back corner. Apparently the kitchen was back there. Access to behind the counter seemed to be limited to a full door in the corner of the dining room, or around the desk at the lobby.

About twenty seconds later, she came back around, steaming bowl in two hands, with a spoon handle protruding from a soup of sorts. As she passed me the bowl, she said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you, sir. Some of the other patrons have been getting on my nerves." She glared at the man who had reached for her while I had watched. He hadn't moved, and watched her greedily.

"You polite when mad," I noted haltingly, hoping that she could understand my rough speech.

"Mother beat it into me since I was little."

"Always own here?"

"Yeah. At least as long as I've known."

"I understand."

The creep slid closer. He had messy black hair, and his expression was leering. "Y'know, girlie-"

I stopped him with an arm between him and her. He stopped abruptly, glancing between my bandaged, extended arm and my face.

"We was having a li'l talk, boy."

"We talking. Go."

He leaned into my face, bad breath clogging by nostrils. "I don' like you, boy. You ought'a stay out of other men's business."

"You same. Go, or I hurt."

"Wha'cha gonna do, boy? Kick me shins?"

I looked to the orange-haired girl. "No trouble if hurt?"

"He's clearly asking for it. Just don't make a mess."

I looked back at him, "You hear. Go, or I hurt you."

"Try me," he hissed.

I snapped my left elbow into his gut. His head slapped onto the serving bar as he doubled over, then he slid to the ground. The orange-haired girl leaned over the bar to get a better look.

"Too hard," I admitted.

She looked at me amazed, grateful, and frightened. "Th-Thank you, sir. He'd been troubling me since yesterday."

"I help how can." I picked up the bowl, and turned towards one of the few empty tables, making my way to it. The hostess's daughter wasn't the only one with eyes on me. Some glances were curious, others startled. Still more watched on with nods.