Prattling on

"I'm sorry she never showed up, Warren." There was a sad expression on the diminutive lalafell before him, standing behind the bar as the man slid onto a stool in front of her.

"You, uh, notice that huh?" He looked a bit embarrassed, gesturing to a bottle behind the shelf.

"Of course I did. It's my place to notice these things!" She smiled, speaking matter-of-factly and beaming with pride. " 'Sides, it's dead in here these hours and you're not exactly easy to miss. Even if you are dressed like a proper gentleman for once and not a gleaming ivory tower helping support my pillars. Easy on the eyes regardless, but a girl can't complain." A grin followed.

"Please, Momodi, I'm not sure if I have it in me to rebuke someone on that again-"

"How many's it been?" She cut him off, picking up the bottle he gestured to and raising it, withholding the pour until he spills first.

"How many what?" He set his head in his hands wearily, looking at his empty glass.

"I've got eyes, you know. Ears, too. There was the chocobo girl, there's that flower-seller, I'm not sure if you saw the miqo'te with the handlebars and the book, but that's not what she was reading. You wouldn't believe the rumors you've got going around about you."

"There's rumors now?" The words dragged out of him incredulously. "I never even said anything to anyone! I deny everyone anything."

"Oh, honey, you don't know how it works, do you?" She looked at him with a pitying expression, dark brown liquid sloshing into the glass in front of him. "We women have a sense about these things. You never said anything about what happened with you and the missus but... You've got a way about you, Warren. And these women who've been looking after you, well, they're all adventurers. Got that second sense you all seem to possess. You didn't say anything, no, but it was written plainly across your face."

"So that means that they just throw themselves at me?" He picked up the glass, still voicing in disbelief before taking a generous drink.

"You go easy now. And it didn't start that way. I don't know how things went with that girl with the accent but she seemed nice enough, for sure. Haven't seen her around much, though. And the flower girl? She's a healer, Warren. And you've got a bad case of something broken, so she's going to try and fix that. Of course, you won't let anyone, so I guess Menphina's just sending heavier hammers."

"Well that's not going to work. Would you believe the other night I had a duskwight just baldly offer herself to me? Without so much as a name or a hello? Just a 'You're big, let's spend time together.'" He shakes his head, looking at his gracious hostess. She just grinned up at him salaciously.

"You ARE big, Warren. Big and stoic and noble. You tell anyone who listens that you're out to protect The People, whatever that means. Now I'm not making fun, but you talk in grand terms about these things. It's just so damn... Romantic! You can see that, right? You're just a big, lovable sad Warren who wants to protect. You're sending out all kinds of signals whether you know it or not. You're catnip. A fixer-upper with great returns. Not to mention incredibly wealthy."

"I'm not incredibly wealthy, Momodi, you know that."

"And those other things...?" She smirks at him wisely. His eyes meet hers and he gawks for a moment before averting his gaze back to his drink, then nursing it.

"I don't want that kind of attention. I'll try to be more mindful about how I present-"

"No, see, there you go again! You're doing it right now and don't even realize it. You stuff yourself down into your armor even when you're not wearing it, you know that? You hide behind that shield and we can tell! The harder you push back, the heavier that hammer's gonna be."

"...I'll endure it. I know what I want. I'm not going to be broken."

Momodi looks on him, setting her mouth and nodding. "Alright. If you ever want to talk, Warren, I'm always here. Just don't go breaking yourself now, you hear me?"

He nodded but was already gone in his mind. There was a sun high overhead, a pang of hunger deep inside of him and lots of street left to run.