The inn’s main room was large and open, with tables spaced out so that small parties could have a little bit of room to themselves and larger groups could all crowd together. Straight ahead past the entrance was a stairway leading to an overlook that wound around the upper wall of the dining area, with doors to the guest rooms and one single exit to the balcony. The interior was sparsely decorated, showing a preference for function over form. The floor and walls were waxed wood, and the only adornments to be seen were a few Gryst crests and a large wood carving on the back wall that depicted a pack of coyotes running through the desert. The busiest spot was the bar, which took up the back left section of the room, counter starting at the corner and stretching out to the center of the floor. A locked case full of keys was kept behind it, next to a modestly stocked liquor shelf mostly filled with bottles of golden-amber Gryst whiskey.

  Only a few tables were occupied, but the mood in the inn was tense. The men who came in before Jen and Marcie were arguing with the woman behind the bar, and they were getting loud enough Jen could hear them complain about the inn’s prices. They seemed resentful that the barmaid wasn’t haggling the way they wanted. Jen glanced at Marcie, who was holding her hood down over her face and grimacing with those sharp, pointed teeth, already bored and annoyed by the display. Jen patted her on the shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. You never wanted to see people behaving so boorishly, but it was an opportunity for them to fly under the radar by comparison.

  Eventually one of the men raised his voice enough that it drew the attention of the other diners, and even got the cook to poke his head out of the kitchen. The woman didn’t even respond, she just took a step back from the bar and stared at the guests accusatorily, until a door tucked away under the stairs opened and a wide, burly man stepped out.

  He approached the two men and there was an exchange of what-seems-to-be-the-problems and well-sir-we-were-just-havin’-a-little-disputes. They were much more polite talking to a man the size of both of them put together, but that was hardly a surprise. After a brief conversation the large fellow brought both of them back into the room he came from, and the way was open for Jen to approach the bar herself. Marcie trailed behind her, doing her best not to be noticed. She was so awkward and out of place that Jen hoped people would just assume she was shy and a little strange and not look too closely, but just in case she made sure to grab the attention as quickly as possible.

  “Good evening!” she said brightly as she approached the counter. “They were certainly impolite. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that, it sounded dreadful.”

  “Eh.” The woman shrugged. “I just don’t got a lot of patience for the hard sell. Get a couple of ‘em every night. Gerald’s more of a sweet-talker than I am, he’ll sort them out.” She leaned on the counter, looking Jen over. “Not any of my business, though. What can I do for you?”

  “We just need dinner and a place to sleep,” Jen asked with her humblest little smile. “Let me pay up and we’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Ten chips,” the woman said. “Gets you two meals and a room for the night.”

  It was pricey, but not unreasonable enough to throw a fit over. A few towns back Marcie had swiped the purse off a stable owner who was cruel to his horses, so they had a few chips to spare. Jen quickly counted out ten small metal discs and set them on the counter. “Do you have any rooms open upstairs, over in the back corner?” Jen knew Marcie would like somewhere she could get a good view of the whole inn if she poked her head out the door.

  “Sure, whatever.” The woman took the chips and stashed them away, then opened the locker to hand Jen a key with the number 28 crudely scratched into it. “You can have a seat and they’ll get to you when they get to you.”

  As soon as Jen had the key the woman lost interest in her, and picked up a thick book that was sitting on the counter next to her. The cover had a title embossed in gold leaf, something about the scientific classification of succulents. She clearly wasn’t interested in a conversation beyond doing her job, which Jen took as a blessing.

  Hanging around only made it more likely Marcie would be recognized, so Jen lead her out into the dining room. They took a seat at an isolated little two-person table tucked under the second level overlook. She made sure to let Marcie have the seat facing away from the entrance. “There,” she said, stashing the room key away in her pocket. “That all went smoothly enough.”

  “Suppose so. Feels like we’re lucky the bar lady there didn’t give much of a shit about us,” Marcie muttered.

  “Most people don’t really care, to be honest. That’s why important people need to work so hard to make them act like they do.” Jen shrugged. “It’s something you get a sense for fairly quickly. Being noble is about having your ego puffed up. Everyone defers to you because they expect you’ll be angry if they aren’t worshiping the ground you walk on. It’s actually hard to get them to behave otherwise, even if you’d rather they didn’t.”

  “I dunno,” Marcie said, “I feel like I’ve met folks who act like they picked up some kinda worm from all the boots they licked. Some of ‘em really are convinced that a crown’s worth somethin’. Doesn’t make any sense to me but it’s more common than you’d expect.”

  “No, that’s true.” Jen leaned her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her palm. “Honestly, though, it’s even worse when they really believe it. Then you get to feel alienated, alone, and guilty all at once.” She sighed and sat back up. “At the end of the day I’d rather work with someone who’s honest about wanting to finish up and go home. That’s what most things you do as a noble are like too, so you get to remember that you’re human, and set aside the pretense for a little while.”

  “Hm. Sure. Makes sense.” Marcie rubbed her eye, found a little grain of sand in the corner, and flicked it away onto the ground. “I mean, it’s all just bullshit, isn’t it? Folks not sayin’ what they feel, not actin’ like people with each other, that kind of shit. Always seemed like a real nightmare to me. I don’t think I could put up with all that fancy junk for ten seconds.”

  “In fairness,” Jen said, “I don’t think the nobility could put up with you for six.” She smiled. “And I mean that as the highest compliment.”

  “Heh,” Marcie chuckled, “you’re probably right about that. Gotta be one of my better qualities, though, right? ‘Intolerable to nobles.’ Need that on a business card.” She laughed a little at her own joke.

  They chatted for a while longer before a young man came by to drop off a few strips of roasted chicken and corn bread for both of them. As usual Marcie tore into the meat, relishing the sensation of pulling it apart with her teeth. It was a little disconcerting, but Jen had gotten used to it, and by now she was mostly just glad to see Marcie enjoying herself.

  Once they were done eating–at around the same time, since Marcie ate her bread much more slowly than the chicken–the crowd in the dining hall was beginning to pick up, so they made themselves scarce, and headed up to their room.

  The room wasn’t all that much to write home about, though it wasn’t really trying to be. They had the same kind of wooden floors and walls as the dining hall, a single full-sized bed, a nightstand, and a little table in the corner, but that was about it. You didn’t need much more than that, though. A bed was a bed, and tonight a bed suited Jen just perfectly.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Once the door was shut behind them, Marcie threw off her cloak and tossed it on the table. "You can have the bed,” she said, taking off all the holsters and pouches hanging from her clothes and setting them on top of the cloak. “I'll sleep on the floor."

  Jen stopped in the doorway with a frown. "You don't have to do that, Marcie.”

  "It's not like I mind. Slept plenty of worse places.” Marcie stood by the table, stretching her arm up and to the side, arching her back like a cat before repeating with her other arm. “Enjoy your mattress, don't get all worried 'bout me."

  "We've both been sleeping on dirt for weeks. And who knows the next time we'll have a proper roof over our heads? I'd feel bad if I pushed you out.” Jen stepped into the room and closed the door. She was ready to dig in her heels.

  "Look, I'm not gonna pretend I love roughing it.” Marcie leaned back against the table, propping herself up with her hands. “But it's not gonna hurt me to sleep on the floor. And I don't wanna take the bed from you, either."

  "We can share it."

  That got Marcie to shoot up, startled to attention, a look of flustered shock on her face. "You gotta be kidding me."

  "Don't be childish,” Jen said, unable to resist rolling her eyes. “We've been camping together for weeks. Sleeping next to each other is hardly more intimate than anything else we've done."

  "No,” Marcie admitted, tail curling around her leg nervously, “but c'mon, you know how it'd look."

  "Look to who?"

  Marce glanced around, looking for an escape route. "I don’t know. Anybody. You never know."

  "I think if a mysterious somebody was watching us in bed they’d have a lot more to answer for than we would." Jen wasn’t having any of it. Whatever else she might have felt or desired, they were both grown women and making a big deal out of sharing a bed in a hotel room was quite simply beneath them. It wasn’t even about Marcie sharing the bed anymore, she just refused to indulge the immature fear of a little sexual tension between friends.

  Marcie could be stubborn, but Jen was much more stern about it. With a defeated sigh, Marcie took a few steps toward the bed. "All right. All right.” Her tail coiled behind her defensively. “Look, I just don't want you to think like I'm cruisin' around the badlands looking to jump in ladies' beds, y'know? It’s real easy for someone like me to get painted with that kinda brush, but that's not what I'm about."

  "Of course it isn't.” Jen walked to the bed ahead of Marcie, and spun around to sit herself on the edge. She crossed her legs imperiously, letting just a bit of her royal upbringing show, turning on the proper noblewoman charm. “You're an absolute gentleman, Marcie.” She patted the mattress next to her, her expression softening. Being firm wasn’t fun for very long, and Marcie deserved a little tenderness. “But a lady is inviting you into her bed, because she wants you there. If you really have no interest in that, I'll let you sleep on the floor. I'll sleep on the floor myself, even. But I'd like to think we're past the point of this flustered, blustering shy girl routine. As cute as it is."

  “Ah, c’mon. There you go again.” Marcie flopped onto the bed next to Jen, and though there was really only barely enough space for the both of them, Jen squeezed herself over to the side to make room. “All the cute stuff. I don’t know who you think you’re foolin’. Mirrors work for me, I know what I look like.”

  “A svelte young woman with a round little face and that scraggly hair?” Jen rubbed the top of Marcie’s head to emphasize it. “That is in fact cute. It’s objectively cute.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Try flattering someone who don’t got teeth a shark’d be jealous of.”

  “Your teeth are also cute.” Jen smiled thoughtfully and took her hand back. “You protest so much whenever I try to say something nice about you. Does it bother you to have a girl call you cute?”

  “N–naw,” Marcie says, apparently a little taken aback by the suggestion. “I mean, of course not. I know cute’s really not somethin’ I am, but out of all the things I could be, like, I wouldn’t mind bein’ cute. So it’s not that. It’s just…” Marcie thinks for a moment, and then lies back on the bed with a sigh. “C’mon, Jen, it’s been long enough. Why’re you butterin’ me up so much? What’re you after?” She rolls over onto her side and glances up at Jen’s face, making eye contact for a brief second before subtly flinching away. “If you’re just lookin’ for me to rut you raw, then go ahead and say it. I’d rather get it over with and skip to the part where you’re finished with me.”

  Jen burst out into inadvertent laughter. “Marcie, what are you–hahaha!” It was a genuine laugh, but also deeply awkward and nervous. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, trying to hold it in. “I just… it’s not funny. Well, the way you said it was a little funny. I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise.”

  “Couldn’t have been that surprising,” Marcie muttered. “You ain’t exactly been subtle about it.”

  The nervous laughter died down and Jen frowned. She rolled over on her side to look Marcie in the face. “Have I been bothering you, then?” she asked. “I know I’ve been affectionate. But I didn’t think you minded.”

  “I mean–nah, I don’t mind. It’s nice, honestly. I know I’m a little awkward about it but, c’mon. I’m awkward about most things. I’m just kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “What other shoe?”

  “I dunno. The one where you get what you want from me and stop bein’ so nice about it, I suppose.” Marcie turned away. “Folks wanna get railed by the demon girl. I get it. I know there’s some kinda appeal there. But it ain’t part of the fantasy worrying about how she feels when you’re done.” With a sigh, Marcie put her hands together under her head. “I mean, you know, it’s whatever. Folks look at you and see a monster, there’s really only two ways they’re gonna feel about that. But whether they hate you or they want you, in the end it comes down to not havin’ to see you as a person. Kind of a buzzkill to have your sharp scary demon lover tell ya ‘by the way I’m really more human than not so I’d like it if you were nice to me?’” With a little tilt of her neck, she looked back to Jen. “But, hey, people are people. There’s no sense holdin’ it against ‘em. Whatever you’re looking for, it’s fine. I’ll go along with it. I’m not gonna be mad or nothin’. Just, like, let me know what it is already, y’know? I don’t know what to do with you all dancing around the subject.”

  Rather than answering with her words, Jen slowly, slowly, shifted further onto her side. She lifted herself up, putting one hand on the armguard covering Marcie’s spikes, and stretching all the way over to put her other hand on Marcie’s left arm. As she stretched she also rolled over, lifting herself up onto her knees, and scooted both of them into the center of the bed, so that she could put one knee on either side of Marcie’s legs. And then she lowered herself down to wrap her arms around Marcie and pull her into a big, tight hug.

  “Oh, Marcie,” she whispered softly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Uh.” Slightly unsure what to do with herself, Marcie wrapped her arms around Jen in turn. “It’s… it’s fine. Like I said I’m, y’know, used to it. So it’s like not a big deal or nothing.”

  “It isn’t fine,” Jen insisted. “It really, really isn’t. You are a person, and you are human, and you deserve to be treated like one.”

  “I mean, you know… only mostly human. But, uh, like… I mean. I’m glad you think it’s human enough to count.”

  “Of course it is.” Jen squeezed Marcie tight. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Marcie patted Jen’s back uncertainly. “I, uh, won’t, then.” She shifted a little bit beneath her. “But, uh, I mean, so, like. What… does this mean? Like, this whole thing? Cuz I asked and I, like, sorta… I still don’t really know.”

  “It means that I like you, you fucking goofball,” Jen said. “You’re smart and funny and kind and if I had to be on the run from my awful fiancé with any person in the world there’s nobody I’d rather it be than you. And that’s not because of the horns or the scales or the claws or the guns. It’s just because I enjoy being with you. And yes, because I think you’re cute and pretty and very attractive and I would like to spend more time on top of you.” After a slight moment of hesitation, she leaned down and gave Marcie a little kiss on the forehead. “Is that finally clear enough?”

  “Um.” Marcie looked like a deer in the headlights. “Y… sure. I guess. Yeah. That’s… that’s clear enough.”

  “Good.” With a bit of effort, Jen lifted herself off of Marcie and pressed herself next to her on the bed once again. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And I’m not going to use you or give up on you or move on from you. I like you, and I want to stay together with you. That isn’t going to change. Anything beyond that is up to you.”

  “Up to me, huh?” Marcie turned over onto her side, facing away from Jen, but she didn’t seem hostile or cold. Just overwhelmed. “I’ll… think about it.” She cleared her throat nervously and pulled the blanket tight around herself. “...Thanks, Jen.”

  Jen smiled a small, sad smile. “Of course, Marcie. Any time. Any time at all.” She curled herself up under the blanket, facing the same direction as Marcie but not going so far as to put her arms around her or press herself against her. “Good night.”

  “Yeah,” Marcie said. “Night.”