She had an unwavering gaze. "Both. I'm looking for my mother."
His parents loved each other. How nice. A bitter resentment sprang up to the back of her throat, almost like bile, before she shoved it back down again. Jealousy, she reminded herself, was a weak emotion. She didn't need a happy childhood. She was no longer a child.
"We... were separated when I was teenager. She was a slave and--" Why was she telling him this? Ordinarily, she would simply stick to the facts, not delve into any personal. Something about this place made her relax her guard more than it ought to. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm looking a woman who goes by the name of Nine. One of the Shadow Fae. Skin with a soft gray hue, black hair, scar across her face from her left eye to the right corner of her lip. She'd have a tattoo over her right eye that resembles a crescent moon made of triangles."
She tilted her head at him, "Have you seen anyone like that?"
Grabbing the whisky bottle, she slid slowly over the counter in his direction, in case he wanted some.
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