u/caitlynkirammanrifle

“Let me guess, you’re more upset about my boots than me insulting you?”

Caitlyn glared at her. “It took me twenty minutes to clean my seat, and my whole car still reeks of your cologne. Maybe everyone else is too scared of the Hound to be honest with you, but I advise that you lay off the body spray. You’re supposed to keep it to your pulse points, not use the whole bottle.”

The Hound, looking far from offended, cackled. “Man, I must have really pressed some buttons if you’re taking body shots. But I’ll offer my own bit of advice: don’t take things down here so personally. You really won’t last long if you do.”

Caitlyn snorted. “Didn’t think you cared enough to offer me any advice.”

“What can I say? You’ve made an impression. I would hate to lose such an interesting source of entertainment.”

Caitlyn knew that she’d told Jayce that she’d be patient before challenging the Hound again, but she couldn’t stop the words that fell out of her mouth. “Oh? Is the Hound of the Underground in need of a jester? Has being top dog become tedious? Because, if you’re sick of it, my offer to race you still stands.”

The Hound laughed again, and Caitlyn found it just as irritating as she had that morning. “You really are stubborn, Cupcake. Good luck with your race tonight. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

Before Caitlyn could demand what she’d meant, the Hound disappeared into the bustling parking lot, leaving Caitlyn alone and fuming.

“Okay, here is her before the haircut,” Connol said, and Vi suppressed a groan as he turned his phone towards Caitlyn to reveal an eight-year-old Vi with shoulder-length hair and a missing front tooth. “And here she is after.”

“Oh, my God,” Caitlyn said, a laugh bubbling out of her at the uneven, choppy bowlcut-esque cut that sat on top of Vi’s head. In the photo, she was standing next to Felicia, who was holding a pair of scissors and wearing a grimace, while a younger Vi sported a grin that was far too happy for such an awful haircut. “Vi…”

“Oh, come on. You’ve never had a bad haircut?” Vi countered.

 “No, I haven’t, but I’ve never had anyone who wasn’t a professional cut it.”

“Well, she was thrilled with it, for some reason, bless her. Though, after that, we became a regular at Babette’s every six weeks,” Felicia said, playing fully mussing Vi’s hair.

"So, how's the new girl doing?" Vander asked after a few moments of companionable silence.

"She's good. Hard worker, scary good memory, and I'm pretty sure you could set her on fire, and she still wouldn't make a single complaint."

The bar owner hummed, but he knew Vi too well for him to notice that she had left something unsaid. "But…"

"But," Vi said slowly, "She's a bit cold. Not rude or a bully by any means, but I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen her smile the last two weeks I've worked with her. She doesn't really humor the customers or joke around with them, or even try to get to know them. She tries, but it's obvious she's trying, and I think she realizes that, which makes her clam up. Most of the time, she greets them with a neutral 'hello,' asks what they want to drink, and makes it before moving on to the next task or customer."

"We've never been a place where we give people lines they have to regurgitate to people with a fake smile plastered on their face," Vander pointed out.

"I know, I know, but we're also not a typical bar. For a lot of people, walking through those doors will be one of the scariest things they'll ever do."

No, not at me, she realized, and turned around. There stood her other self, whom Vi knew had just finished that conversation with Thorne moments before coming to Sarah’s cabin. Like Sarah, the other Vi was stuck in place, frozen in time in this memory. Fuck.

“Wait, what? How—what is—”

“Are we at the healing house? On that island?” Vi asked, looking back at Caitlyn.

“Yes. I dragged us both into the pool. But how did we get here, and why are there two of you?” Caitlyn demanded, panic at the edge of her words.

“Two people aren’t meant to be in those baths together,” Vi explained. “I don’t fully understand the magic, but I do know that it can’t tell the difference between the two bodies it's trying to heal. Illaoi told me a long time ago that their priests call it a bleed effect. I didn’t really understand at the time, but I do now, with you here.”

“Vi, I don’t—”

“This is a memory of mine,” she interrupted.

“The yellow one under the pavilion has my rifle.”

“Cait, we can’t risk—”

“We’re not leaving without it,” she snarled. Vi’s eyes widened, and she hurriedly shushed Caitlyn.

“Powder can build you a new one. It would be foolish to—”

“My mother made that gun for me, Vi. I can’t—I can’t leave without it.”

A heavy silence settled between them for several tense seconds before Vi sighed. “Okay, okay. We’ll try to get it. But Cait, if the choice comes down to saving you or getting your weapon, I’m choosing you. Understand?”

Caitlyn clenched her jaw, but nodded, then muttered, “If there’s so much as a scratch on it, I’ll show them how it works up close.”

“One thing at a time, hotshot. Let’s get it back first and figure out a way out of here.”

When Caitlyn didn’t see Vi on the main deck, she went into the captain’s cabin and saw the pirate sitting at the table, slouched with her back to the door. Caitlyn quietly shut the door and carefully sat in the chair next to Vi.

“Do you want company?” she asked gently.

“Doesn’t seem to matter what I do or don’t want,” Vi muttered thickly, her gaze unseeing as it stared at the cabin wall.

Caitlyn kept her eye on Vi, cautiously choosing her next words. “It does matter, Vi.”

Vi shook her head. “It doesn’t. No matter what, I choose wrong every time. Our dad dies, so I take my sister out of Zaun, only to have our ship attacked by pirates. Join the pirates, only to be pulled into a war where I lose the woman I loved to it. I try to save a handful of Zaunites from their oppressed home, only to drag them into a suicide mission in cursed waters. One of them has already died, and now Deckard…”

“None of that is your fault, Vi,” Caitlyn insisted, leaning forward slightly.

“If it’s not my fault, then it's Nagakaborous’ and turned out I was wrong about her, too.”

“Vi, stop,” Caitlyn ordered, startling Vi into looking at her. Her heart twisted at the grief that was flooded in blue-gray irises, and before she could think about it further, Caitlyn reached her hand out and gently laid it over Vi’s.