A taste of freedom

The door to a fairly quiet looking bar opens and Damion MacSteele walks in pulling a hood off his head. He seems to know this place as he confidently walks over to a stool right at the bar and orders his usual. The barmaid knows exactly what this is, a Glendronach 12 year old, straight up, no bloody mixer, no bloody ice and, most importantly, no bloody blood.
Damion – You know, ah still can’t believe you get hold oh this stuff here.
Barmaid – Why not? We can get hold of everything, from everywhere.
Damion takes a sip, the reassuring warmth finding it’s way down to light the fire in his belly.
There’s only one or two people in this bar, they don’t give Damion a second glance.
Barmaid – You look tired.
Damion – Aye, well. Ah went for a wee wander down by the river, only some buggers recognized me and, well, quiet walk ruined (in a mocking tone) “Ooh Damion, can we have your autograph, ohh Damion are you gonna fight King Krimsin?” blah blah blah.
Barmaid – Well, that’s the price of fame and glory. Hey, wait a minute, it’s Sunday night, aren’t you supposed to be at the coliseum?
Damion – Nah lassie, ah told ye before, her royal majesty has given me the week off on account oh me bein’ such a great guy.
He flashes a disarming grin and gives her a wink as he says this. After that, he takes a look around, noticing that the bar is quieter than usual.
Damion – Hey , why’s it so dead in here tonight? Ah thought it would be jumpin’.
Barmaid – This is the only bar in town permitted to not show the tournament on screen. You see, the locals have a choice, some choose not to watch the tournament. They’re called the “Unfortunates” and they’re all in here tonight.
Damion looks at the other two occupants and gives them a wave.
Damion – Alight big yins, how’s it goin’?
One of the two manages to lift his head towards Damion before lowering it back down to stare at s pint of…whatever the hell he’s drinking.
Damion looks back round at the barmaid.
Damion – Unfortunates eh? Well, ah guess it’s just you an’ me then. Why don’t you grab yerself a wee drink an’ share a toast wi’ me?
Barmaid – Yes, I think I will.
She pours herself a whisky and raises it. They touch glasses.
Damion – To freedom
He takes a swig and as he puts the glass down, he notices that the barmaid hasn’t touched hers, she just calmly puts her glass back down on the counter.
Damion – Ye no drinkin’?
Barmaid – No Damion. I should’ve told you not to waste your money, you can’t have that much left, I only put a weeks supply in that shack.
Damion looks confused.
Damion – Hang on…you…
Barmaid – What’s the name of this bar Damion?
Damion – The name?...it’s…The Last Hope.
Barmaid – Look again.
Damion looks warily at the windows, although written backwards, he can still determine the name. “No Hope”. Damion’s mind starts turning cart wheels.
Damion – What the…How…who?
Barmaid – You had a choice Damion. I gave you a choice. Always remember that you chose this.
He looks at the barmaid, seeing her properly for the first time.
Damion – Rae?!
Rae – Oh yes.
She hadn’t changed, he just hadn’t noticed before. How could he not have noticed?
Rae – You really think I would lower myself to drink with scum like you?
She pours her whisky onto the floor. Damion looks crestfallen.
Rae – Aw, so sweet, so broken.
Damion looks at the door, he could make it. Only his legs won’t move. He lets out a knowing sigh.
Rae – No, there’s really no point. No point, and no hope!
He tries his arms, they respond, but she’s out of reach, so he does the only thing he can in this situation and raises his glass to his lips. His arms stop, just as the glass touches his lips. He can smell it, see it, so close yet his arms have stopped.
Rae – Aw, so close, and that’s as close as you’ll ever get. Now, enough of this. We have a show to put on!
Damion – Ah’ll bloody well destroy you, the whole bloody lot oh’ you!! To hell wi’ yer show!
Rae – I gave you a choice. Now I take the luxury of choice away.