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He pulled into a parking lot lined with a wooden privacy fence and a grove of oak trees beyond it.
Exiting the car, Naia took in the large, white brick exterior of the establishment before her. Positioned off to the side of the entrance was a patio with tables beneath an awning, embellished with hanging lights. Above the entrance was a sign reading: Foxglove Brewery. A foxglove flower, the lavender colored petals of fat bells on a stem, blossomed beneath the name.
Ronin was already across the parking lot, holding the glass door open for her.
Nothing about his demeanor insinuated impatience. In fact, he intently watched her with a small curve to his lips, as if he were enjoying her child-like awe with her surroundings. It was the same look he wore in the car with her nose pressed to the glass as they entered the city.
It caused her cheeks to heat and her hands to stir.
She crossed the parking lot and stopped right before him.
“Where are we?” she asked, refusing to go any further until she was aware.
“A brewery.”
A place that brewed beer. Among the Mortal Land, establishments serving alcohol was popular—something she’d learned during her first adventure on their soil.
“Does a brewery serve food?”
An amused smile danced across his face. “Yes.”
It was enough to convince her as she crossed the threshold into the building.
A blast of cool air rushed through her hair—air filled with a yeasty, dough aroma and a savory after smell of something salty.
Ronin walked ahead of her, navigating his way through the open room full of empty tables. More hanging lights decorated the rafters of the industrial ceiling. The interior walls, constructed of sturdy brick, showcased an array of captivating surrealist paintings depicting flowers sprouting from heads and eyes.
“Thank fuck you’re here.” A man towards the back of the room called to Ronin. “Theon’s been working me like a…” He peeked around Ronin’s approaching figure to Naia. “We’re still closed. She with you?”
“Yup. This is Naia. Give her whatever she wants. On the house.” Ronin stalked behind the register and picked up a square device on the counter, his eyes darting across the screen as he swiped his finger on it. Similar to how he’d done on his cell phone earlier.
The man straightened up from leaning on the counter. “I’ve been keeping up with inventory,” he said in defense.
“More like Theon has.” Ronin set the device back down and looked at the stranger.
He threw his tattooed arm, resembling a vibrant mural, around Ronin’s neck. “The place is still standing, isn’t it?”
Ronin rolled his eyes, signaling towards the man with his thumb. “This is Avi. Stay here in the taproom with him. Eat and drink, chill out. I need to go take care of some business in my office.”
“You’re leaving me?” Naia cringed internally at how distressed she sounded.
Despite having no reason to worry about being alone in a big city, her old fearful habits were returning. She had to remind herself she was not as small as she felt. Compared to Hollow City—full of mages—Kaimana—full of her family—was far worse.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be upstairs. Nice to know you’re warming up to me, though.” Ronin gave her a wink before he sauntered around an adjunct wall to where Avi stood.
The wall was full of various levers with different logos and unique names. Naia gathered the spouts were full of whatever they brewed and sold.
She stood awkwardly in front of the glossy wooden bar, eyeing the man’s short bronze strands and the variety of metal hoops lodged through the lobes of his ears.
He was quite large. Taller than her and Ronin, shoulders as broad as a bull, and struck Naia as the type allergic to tunics with sleeves. If she were to measure, she had no doubt the size of his rippled muscular biceps was the same width as her skull. Based on his appearance, she pegged him to be the arrogant type.
He turned to address her with a light-hearted smile, proving her wrong. “Nice to meet you. Are you from the island, too?”
“Ronin works here, I take it?” she asked, bypassing his question.
“He owns the place.”
“Of course he does,” she muttered.
