Roads: Already Gone

He pushed the door open and stepped in without ceremony. There wasn't much to see - a dusty cloak, warm and practical. Nice boots, made well and well worn. The shape of a weapon underneath as his cloak slid back.

But that wasn't what caught my attention. There was more, something whispered to me. More than the tired traveller. He sat down and ordered both a meal and a room, paying with antique silver, returning my smile.

Our eyes met for just a moment, and at last, I saw someone who understood. There was no light in those dull grey eyes. Not a flicker of life. I asked him where he was going, though I knew the answer.

"Just one more inn, perhaps?"

"Yes."

There was a deep sadness to him that rolled off him in a dark mist. Feeling like I had disturbed something best forgotten, I turned away.

"I'll - I'll get your drink."

He caught my sleeve, the movement quick and strong. I stilled, staying casual while I hoped desperately for him to ask the question I had been waiting for.

"You could come with me."