Working on it...

It was one of those things you could have pretended never happened, yet once seeing it, it was hard not to. As much as Anthony looked back at it now, he wondered countless times if he should have looked the other way. Maybe then things would have been different, though through alcoholic therapy, he reminded himself that, in the end, ignorance was never bliss. It usually just prolonged the burning inferno of your reality.

It hadn’t started on a cold and rainy night. On the contrary, it had been a friendly, sunny, afternoon that closed to a very starlit night, cool and refreshing. Quarry had invited him for dinner and cigars at the Hog’s Head, a local tavern that was on the more dodgier side of the city than Anthony would have preferred, but feeling energized and young, he was up for a bit of ‘out of the box’ dinning. There, he met up with the redheaded Koshka, who had been dressed in one of his uniforms that looked particularly worn and beaten.

Bounding out of the carriage, Quarry grinned from ear to ear, happy to see him here as he headed into the tavern.

“You really should take better care of your uniform, Quarry.” He said, grabbing a tail of the officer’s coat and wiggling a finger though a hole as his eyes inspected a nearby stain. The redhead batted his friend’s hands away before finding a seat.

“Ah. Don’t worry. That’s why we have stewards for.” He said, raising two fingers for 2 pints.
“No reason to go about abusing your attire.” He said, pursing his lips as he dusted the seat under him and sat down. His eyes inspected the tavern. It didn’t have the usual aristocracy or slew of relaxing officers that he was prone to and he didn’t now if he liked that better or not.

Despite Anthony not being an officer, he liked surrounding himself with the military Koshka’s of Eramus. He had long since had a passionate love of them since his childhood, where his grandfather, a legendary war hero, would talk to him in the blurry years of his early childhood, somewhere high upon a knee. Their home had always had those worn images of his ancestry, most from his mother’s side, dressed in uniforms from this war and that rank. He envied the badges, the stripes, and the regal crew cuts of the friends of his father’s who would enter their home, petting him upon the head when he eagerly greeted them before fetching his father. It had only been ironic tragedy that he would fall ill and be unable to join their ranks and later have his father go. Still, with the loyalties of friends and those of the military taking care of their own, he had friends and he was welcomed as the son of John, the grandson of Mudich, and the unfortunate brother of Christopher, god rest his soul.

He liked that close unity, and though he could never be ‘in’ it as part of them, he would fight down his envy with being content with being on the sidelines listening in. Quarry understood this and as both a friend of Christopher and there when Anthony tailed them on a military champagne, and supplied him with as much information of the happenings of the Koshka government as he could. They both delighted one another on regimes, cavalry movements, and latest weaponry, making a note to always say it could never compare to anything their side could come up with.

Cheeky, Quarry drank the porter when it came and smiled wide. “Well?”
“Not my cup of tea, I’m afraid. I much rather like the Beefsteak instead to dine. I don’t know your fascination with the shadiest of places. An officer of your standing, you should be worried about giving people the wrong impression.”

“Pah on wrong impression. We’re all Koshka anyways. Why let that ruin my fun and damn anyone try to say anything against my good name. They’ll have an entire army to contend with.” He grinned, already ordering two more despite none of them close to the bottom of their first. (Anthony less close to this than Quarry, as tradition went.)

The table creaked, prompting Anthony to look up from his mug of questionable drink. Strangely enough, he was surprised that it actually tasted half decent. Quarry, leaning on the table, was giving one of his toothy grins. “……there is a nice brothel on the corner. Finest dames.” He said, winking, causing Anthony to drop his eyes as he went red.

“You’re horrible.”
“I’m male.”
“So am I.”
”Then why are you not as horny as I am? Lady love really got you in that tight of a vice? Phah. I was hoping to get you to have a bit of bachelor fun before the big day started.” He said, leaning back deflated.

“Is that why you called me here. To..” He leaned in, whispering. “…solicitate the practices of prostitutes?” he hissed, looking side to side for good measure.

“COURSE! Get some practice in with a good bump and grind before you tie the knot.” He said, working on his second mug. He laughed when he watched Anthony fiddle, drinking harder from his mug before continuing.

“I would not do such a thing! To think, those women, what offenses they could be carrying. If so much as a mark was upon me from one of them, transferred, I’d have my vows broken in a moment. Could you see the damage!” he said, ears back as he found himself too loud and clamped a hand to his mouth. “Could you see the damage?” He whispered once more.