Niniel approached the bar, finally deciding to ask for something else to drink. Ale always fogged her mind, it made it hard to think. Niniel always avoided fermented beverages, it was too easy to lose control of her emotions and of her tongue. Aman seemed to be somewhat busy, so Niniel waited quietly without sitting down.
There was a man there, as silent as she. He looked tired, worn. He cradled his abdomen as though it pained him. Niniel wanted to ask him if he was all right, but she felt that she had said and shown too much of herself for one day. It frightened her, this new openness. It wasn't what she usually did, and Niniel was a lady of habit. Habits that had kept her alive.
The man at the bar doubled over with pain. Before she quite knew it, Niniel had reached his side and was supporting him. When he could sit up again, she moved away self-conciously. The man's eyes were frightening, so deep, so dark. So full of memories, of pain.
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