With Friends Like These..

[Glenn]

There were constants in Myrken Wood: Treadwell, for certain. That was.. well, that might have been it. There was one constant, if you did not want to count the pain and loss and tragedy and ignorance. Even those things had an ebb and flow, however. It meant that while you occasionally became attached to someone, you never got too attached, or at least you did at your own peril.

With this one specific person, there was plenty of peril in getting close, not danger, necessarily, but peril; you were very likely to be disappointed. Glenn Burnie had gotten rather tired of disappointment in his years as Governor. He had arrived to The Stinky Sheep five minutes early. It wasn't the sort of establishment where one could do much work or reading or anything else. It was a place where you could meet with men of shady character and repute without real consequence.

It was where his note had told Tebrin to meet him, on this night, at this time, after Burnie had heard of the man's return to Myrken.

He was there early and he would wait for a good half an hour before moving on.

[Tebs]

Disappointment. Tebrin had made himself not just a reputation, but a living off of it. Disappointing family. Friends. Lovers. Well, perhaps not lovers; they were rarely disappointed, per se. These people were vulnerability. Vulnerability was danger. Danger was to be avoided, except on the treasure hunter's own surly terms, and then with the promise of substantial profit.

Tebrin counted himself the friend of very few. Two, perhaps, and no more. No more could be tolerated. No more could be RISKED, for indeed, there was RISK in growing attached. Attachment brought concern, and concern brought investment, and investment... well.

He had left Myrken many times. Niall had asked him, just the other night, why the man continued to return? He had not said. Had avoided the question, and instead offered the woman more DRUG, by means of deflecting the inquiry, though fortunately it had been meant rhetorically. Glenn was one of those reasons - though he, too, had apparently disappointed many. 'You must be desperate,' Niall had said, to consider Glenn Burnie a friend. And a friend he was - other than Calia, perhaps the only one Tebrin truly believed to be such. A best friend, even. And, as such, perhaps the single person Tebrin had the worst habit of disappearing on.

He had received the note. He had briefly considered simply not showing, but even he could not be fooled by his conscious impulse to flee. He wanted to see the man, perhaps even had looked forward to it, perhaps... PERHAPS... even had returned in order to pay an old friend a visit.

Naturally, Tebrin was about twenty minutes late. Perhaps, if he delayed long enough, Glenn would simply not BE there when he arrived, and Tebrin could duck an entire round of questions about the treasure hunter's questionable commitment to maintaining his relationships and his residence. But there he was, standing in the door, glancing furtively about the room for the mapmaker and - with an unreadable flicker of emotion - striding across the room towards him.

[Glenn]

"You had forty minutes left." Glenn Burnie lied. He led with a lie. To his friend. A lie and a smile, and there were drinks waiting for them, so there was that, no? At an establishment like this, the booze wasn't exactly fresh and crisp and it waiting out for twenty minutes didn't make the least bit of difference. Burnie took a sip; he had been nursing his as he was waiting. No rise. No hug. No shake. "Sit down, alright. You realize I have people now, right, Tebrin? If you're trying to wait me out, you'll fail because I can just plant a runner at the door and then arrive on a golden palanquin carried by twenty servants who can all run faster than you can."

That might have been a brief exaggeration but there was a huge difference between the two. Burnie had stayed, had set in his roots, had given up his freedom. In exchange, he had gained power, presence. What did Tebrin have to show for all of his wandering?

"Sit and drink. You look like a wet cat in a cage."

[Tebs]

"I though' I'd try bein' early fer a change," He replied casually. There were drinks. This was for the best, as discussions with Glenn Burnie tended to border on the painful, for a variety of reasons. Last time, Glenn had needed healing potions, and Tebrin had been ANGRY, though he had provided them. Few people genuinely could MAKE the treasure hunter angry, for in order to be angry, one had to love, and Tebrin... well.

There was a part of him that was mildly disappointed by the lack of an overt display of affection. Perhaps in years past, there may have at least been a handshake. A much larger part of him chose to feel nothing about it one way or the other, instead only to grin lopsidedly and slip easily into the chair, ruddy brown curls matted against his forehead with rain as they were. "M'surprised, 'en, 'at yer people 'aven' jes' gone an' found me. Calia an' I were... around." They had wandered quite far, in actuality, for Tebrin actively fled the urge to lay down roots. And what had he gained for years wandering with Calia?

Well, he had returned here to escape it.

"T'anks. Y'look old." Indeed, perhaps Glenn's outward appearance had not changed dramatically, but his presence had, his personality perhaps. There was something altogether DIFFERENT about the man. Tebrin wasn't sure he liked it. Wasn't sure he would WANT it, for himself. But this was Glenn, a man who Tebrin loved more sincerely than he dared admit, and he would tolerate even this rise to NOBILITY with aplomb. He gathered his drink into his hands, stared at it as one might regard a long-lost lover, clenching his jaw momentarily.

"Y'know I tried t'cut back on m'drinkin' while I was away?" It hadn't worked.

[Glenn]

Last time. Healing potions. A life time ago. Before Underdark. Of course Burnie had changed. Others knew it. Knew the story behind it. Ariane had spoken to everyone she could have before finally talking to him. Tebrin had spoken to... who? Niall?

"My people could find you by smelling the drink on you from afar." Which was Glenn's opinion of him cutting down on his drinking from afar. There was a glance at the mug in front of him. "I don't drink this sort of thing much any more." Harder stuff? More frou frou stuff? Hard to say. "For you, though, I would go all the way to.." He paused momentarily. "The Stinky Sheep, I suppose."

Another smile from Burnie, but a slight one. "I could have found you, Tebrin, yes, but you're your own man. Maybe I just kept an ear open but didn't drag you back by your collar." Then, the smile shifted to a grin. "So tell me what you've heard."

[Tebrin]

They had spoken briefly, since. Perhaps exchanged letters. Brief missives. Glenn WAS an Important Person, after all, and Tebrin, though he physically RAN from Important People, did not often cut them from his life entirely. Not friends, anyhow. Lovers? Girlfriends, even? Yes, certainly. But not friends. Not Glenn. A friend as close as Glenn was enough to drive Tebrin to avoidance, but not to vanishing from the map entirely.

Tebrin had changed. He was older, though he had always looked boyish for his age. He was ever so slightly more inhibited. Glenn had surpassed him long ago, in terms of growing up, and he wasn't certain he approved. Then again, on some level, perhaps he even envied it.

"I shower once a month whether I need i' or no', Burnie. An' I tol' yeh. Tried t'cu' back." He muttered the latter almost defensively, turning his mug around on the table before him. "Ended up pickin' up other drugs. Did y'know 'at bein' sober is a lo' 'arder'n i' looks?" He probably did, he supposed. Only Tebrin would find this to be surprising. "Wha' do y'drink? Y'ad mos' o' my scotch while I was away, I noticed 'at." It was fine, though, because he and Niall had racked up quite an impressive tab on Mr. Burnie's account. Come to think of it, perhaps that was how Glenn had come to know of the man's presence in Myrken.

Tebrin avoided eye contact for a moment, continued to stare at his drink. Part of him wished Glenn HAD simply found him. Gone out of his way to look. It was much harder to run away when someone actively tries to PREVENT it, and he wasn't certain he had the wherewithal to stay of his own accord. "I wouldna' minded," He admits at length. "I always keep tellin' meself 'at m'gonna stick 'round one o' these days. ...I wouldna' minded." He repeats once more, before taking a long drink of the filthy lager.

"'Eard? 'Ell, mate, I've 'eard yer the Guvnah now. An' anyone 'oo's anyone seems t'think m'nuts fer thinkin' yer an alrigh' guy. Mos' seem t't'ink yer an ass o' 'erculean proportions. Which, come t't'ink o' i', isn' much o' a change, I s'pose. I 'eard the jail's busted. Which seems odd," Yes, this WAS odd, wasn't it? "Because I would t'ink yeh'd need one o' those. Where else 'm I s'posed t'spend th'nigh' after a party anymore?"

There was one other thing he'd heard. Verdant eyes flick upwards to regard the man seriously for a moment, and he opened his mouth to speak... and then snapped it shut. Maybe later, he would mention this Other Thing. "Bu' I assume I've missed far more'n 'at."

[Glenn]

"Missed a lot, yeah. Even I can't make everyone happy. What can I tell you?" Burnie couldn't have been to the middle of his twenties yet. He carried himself older, but more than that, he carried himself confident. Tebrin was uncertain, uncomfortable. Glenn was none of those things. He was poised and capable and very much not the teenager the fortune hunter had once known. It didn't mean he was a bad guy though. Well, it might have, but it didn't mean he wasn't still a friend.

"Wine mainly. Brandy sometimes. Usually not much, though." Being sober was hard, Tebrin said, or at least he said something which vaguely meant that. "I came back from dark places and decided that instead of losing myself in a bottle (and that had happened before, and worse; you'd seen some of it), I was just going to lose the bottle. If I don't keep my wits, someone comes along and slits my throat. That's the downside of staying in one place too long: You make enemies."

Eye contact was hard for Tebrin? It wasn't for the once-mapmaker. Nor was his smile. "That just makes you value what friends you have all the more. You stick around and I make it worth your while. You don't want to stick around? Well, then I'll be disappointed, but I can always make you the ambassador to Ghreu Fenn or something."

[Tebrin]

"Even you?" He laughed, then, a familiar lopsided, arrogant little dimple-cheeked grin flitting across the rogue's features. He was like as not in his mid, perhaps late twenties now, and as some of the brashness of youth had faded, it was replaced by the cynicism of age. He was confident in some things - his ability with a blade, his skill at his craft, and his preference of beverages. Not so in others. Not so in people. He was fair at manipulation, at instigation, but at genuinely human relations? Much more difficult. Much more frightening.

"Shi', Glenn, I cannae remember a time when y'made MOS' people 'appy. Guess m'no' one t'talk though, eh?" After all, Tebrin had a history of being legendarily selfish.

Wine. Brandy. Usually not much. He nodded, faintly, a ruddy brow quirking at the mention of dark places, throat-slitting, and enemies. "Well, I'll be damned, Glenn Burnie. People though' y'were a punk when y'were a kid, bu' mos' didn' wanna kill yeh. Y'mes' be doin' somethin' righ', I'd imagine." Or terribly, terribly wrong. There were many who'd as soon kill Tebrin as greet him. Tebrin had stolen from them, either through his trade - artifacts, gems, jewelry - or through card games, drug dealings, or other unsavory activities. He'd never imagine the same for Glenn. Perhaps he had missed more than he'd bargained. "Or wrong."

He was looking at the man now, regarding him curiously. Eye contact was not difficult, per se, but when one was ashamed of themselves it could be. Value friends. Make it worth his while. He snorted a little, shaking his head, that grin spreading into a toothy smile. His lazy, slovenly vernacular vanished, for it was a show that he rarely bothered to put upon Glenn. They were in public, and being in public required the maintenance of some pretense, but now he was lowering his voice a little, with a glance astray to ensure they were well and truly alone. "Are you trying to BUY my presence in Myrken, Glenn? I'm simultaneously flattered and offended. Mostly flattered. How much do you value what friends you have, I wonder?"

[Glenn]

"Yeah, even me." Nursing that ale, still. He wasn't used to it, even after years of drinking the stuff, some of that time drinking way too much of the stuff. It wasn't that his stomach was more delicate now, even if his clothes were, but he'd make it last, even if Tebrin blew through the things; maybe he wouldn't if Glenn didn't. It could be a way to control the conversation, the pace of the meeting. Or it might just be a delicate stomach after all.

He'd raise a hand, halting further comments from Tebrin. "It's like this. Real easy. The way to make people happy. Watch." It was as if he was talking to Tebrin and then not talking to him at all. After a long, pregnant pause, in order to switch from one branch of the conversation to another, Burnie would grin. "This is how I value my friends, Tebrin: Tell me what you want most in the world."

[Tebrin]

It would work, if that was indeed his intention, or perhaps Tebrin simply had no appetite for this particular drink. He had taken to other habits, recently, as his own personal relationships had gotten more complicated. The way to make people happy, it would seem, was to say nothing at all. Tebrin was skeptical of this tactic, as it had not worked for him on repeated instances. In fact, he found often that not talking seemed to UPSET his friends and lovers. Particularly when words were replaced by flight.

What he wanted most in the world? He smirked, rolling his eyes skyward as if the answer should be obvious. "Whiskey. Women. Wealth. What else could I possibly want? You know me better than that." Of course Glenn knew him better than that. Did Glenn believe Tebrin was truly that shallow?

[Glenn]

Running away. Glenn had done it for years and years. He understood it. He understood the pang of loss, the pain of opening yourself up only to be torn apart from the inside out. He understood watching people die and watching others disappoint you, of relying on anyone but yourself. The second you opened yourself up to that, you put a target on your back. You would never be safe again.

Yet, that's exactly what Burnie had done. He had planted his feet and decided to run no more. He had marched up to Cinnabar Calomel, newly ascended governor of Myrken Wood and demanded a place, demanded the right to serve, to have a say, to make a difference. He gave up his freedom, his ability to run, and he never once looked back.

See how he suffered for his decision, Tebrin. Could you? You never saw Burnie with the limp. You never saw him with the horrific smile, not for long at least. You knew, though, why he had those healing potions. You knew what he lost at the hands of Sarayn and why he was training with Jirai to get revenge. You knew what that cost him. If he hadn't opened up in the first place, he could have never been hurt so deeply through Rhaena.

Despite that, one of the two was grown, into power, into presence, into a man, and what was Tebrin? A child still running from his past and away from his future? Or was he a man, actualized, whose decision to refuse chains was wholly healthy and self-aware?

If it was the latter, you wouldn't know it by looking at it.

"I was so sick of it, Tebrin. So damn sick of all the bullshit here. People I cared about got attacked by monsters, got stomped on by other provinces, by twisted gods on a whim. Famine, plague, death and undeath." He took a hearty drink of the ale, now, his words impassioned. "We never learned, we never prepared, we just reacted. So I'd see what I cared about hurt over and over again. I had enough of it. I put my foot down and I started pushing back against fate and darkness and whatever cursed and blighted this land. I made a home of it and I pushed back to protect my home and anyone who has a problem with the fact that I'll go twice as far as any of those bastards that would prey upon us can stick it up their arse, Tebrin."

The words had come quickly, a flash, without warning. "It's worth it, to stand and fight. If you want purpose, a good purpose, one that you'll look back and be proud of on your deathbed, I can give that to you. A legacy." It'd just mean that the deathbed might come far sooner than Tebrin wanted. "You want to keep running, to keep forging ahead with life itself chasing behind you, never looking back for fear of what you might see, I'll give you the fastest horse in the land and a clear path so far as the eye can see. You want something in the middle, i can do that too."

Wine. Women. Wealth. "And if you're sure you want those Ws, Tebrin, yeah, we can do that too. I say you're better than that, though. Better or worse. Your Ws are a damn boring answer, but i can help a friend on a fevered dash to mediocrity if that's what he wants. But hey, you want to be better or worse than that, you're in the right place, talking to the right man."

[Tebrin]

Did he? Did he truly understand? Did he understand what it was like not just to find your family murdered, but to be responsible? To lose not just your family, but your home? To bear the burden of that guilt your entire life? To cause the fatalities of best friends, lovers, to systemically fall into the pattern of unconsciously sabotaging everything you ever found meaningful so as not to repeat this pattern? Did he truly understand that? Tebrin had his doubts. But there was no doubting how similar they were, and perhaps this was why Glenn was one of two people Tebrin could even admit to himself that he cared about. Each friend was a liability in this way.
Glenn was different, though. Tebrin was worthless – a hollow, broken shell of a man which was pitiable, at best. Glenn had drive, ambition, hope, and that was admirable. But Tebrin did not share these qualities. Not in his own opinion. Myrken would be just another in a long line of forsaken homes.

Tebrin knew, or had heard, some of these things. Had quietly ridiculed Glenn for his decision. Had even more quietly envied the man’s courage. Envied him his relationship with Rhaena. Craved that feeling of connectedness. It was a vice Tebrin could not allow himself.

Tebrin was the elder. But Glenn was clearly the more adult. And here Tebrin was, returning time and again, for fleeting moments, into and out of Glenn’s life as he changes, and evolves. And here Tebrin was, still struggling to remember to shave once a week.
And then Glenn was speaking. Passionately. Movingly, really, and Tebrin was listening, and eye contact was not a problem, now, for he had the treasure hunter’s undivided, mostly-sober attention. Worth it to stand and fight. This was the issue, wasn’t it? Was it worth it? Worth it to stand and fight? Again? Worth it to risk failure once more? Worth it to risk causing harm once more? At least if he left, he could only do what he had always done – disappoint. A legacy. He snorted, shook his head, glanced down at the table for a moment, for what man did not want these things? What man did not long to make something of himself? Even Tebrin, surely, felt this drive. There was a piece of him, a dirty, ragged, neglected piece of him that was moved, stirred by this speech. That piece did not receive the privilege of finding voice. Not this moment. Not this day. Glenn says Tebrin is better than these shallow desires – sex, and drugs, and money, and perhaps he was RIGHT. They were BORING. But they were so incredibly, mercifully shallow, so TANGIBLE, and did not require this wicked self-examination which Glenn stirred.

“You say a lot of brave things, Glenn. What the hell gives you so much confidence in me? What have I done to deserve these speeches, these pleas, these offers? I run. I hide. I avoid. That is the man I am, is it not? What have I done that makes you so certain that I am anything else?” For whatever it was, Tebrin partially regretted it. Still, he felt…. Proud. Almost. That Glenn could see so much value in him, where he himself did not see it.

“But of course. I don’t give a shit about money. Money is a tool. A luxury. Drugs are a tool. Sex is a tool – though a favored one. You know why I seek them? Because they are easy, and they are numb. Money doesn’t ask about my past. Alcohol doesn’t care where I come from. You, though? A friend? A real, honest to God friend? You say shit like ‘if you want to be proud of yourself on your deathbed, I can do that.’ And you say shit like ‘I say you’re better than that.’ That is hard. That is challenging. You are challenging.” He was leaning forward, though, verdant gaze bearing into the man’s features, jaw clenched, for he was angry. At Glenn, of course. Clearly, this sudden anger was for Glenn, and not for his own wasted life.

“You want to know what I want most in the whole fucking world, Glenn?” He paused. Considered. He could think of a few, but some, one in particular, was too dangerous to say aloud, even were he entirely alone. “I want my sister.”

[Glenn]

It was a good question, wasn't it? A damn good question really. What had Tebrin ever done to deserve such trust. Oh, he'd be a blade in a fight if it came to that. He'd gone with Glenn to pick a horse. They'd caused their share of trouble. Was it that he came through when Glenn needed those healing potions? Was that really worthy, though? There were obvious signs of cracking in the then-mapmaker, of breaking, of abuse and hurt and recklessness, of danger and instability. Tebrin enabled his friend to harm himself in a large way. It took Ariane's temporary return to stave that off, not that it ultimately mattered in the end. Tebrin had done more harm than good, because it was easier to just do what he was asked to than to delve into the reasons behind it.

"I spend my life dipping into the very worst that we have to offer, Tebrin. Swimming amongst the bottom feeders, the sharks, the monsters and horrors. I know what the worst of us looks like. I know what it feels like. That's not you. What you are, my friend, is human. Unabashed, undiluted, a pure vein of humanity with all of its strengths and its weaknesses." He was an extreme case of humanity, more human than most, but that in itself wasn't enough. It was a general trait, not a specific one. "You're clever is what you are, Tebrin. You've developed all these skills in running. You call it survival, maybe, but it doesn't matter what it is. You grew strong in ways that ought not be. You've developed a sort of strength that can move mountains. It's just without the foundation. You lack leverage, most of all with yourself."

What does he want? There would be no frown or scowl. Family. That was something that Burnie had a harder time understanding. "You can't move forward with your past chasing behind you, not with the chains of it slowing you down. Does she live, Tebrin? Give me the start of it, and I'll help you fill in the rest." It was rather what he did.

[Tebrin]

Tebrin and Glenn had been friends for, what? Eight years? More? It was hard to keep count. They had caused trouble together, sure, but had also helped each other out of trouble. There was a reason for their bond - they were similar. Understood each other in a way, perhaps, others did not. It was meaningful, and the treasure hunter knew he'd have killed for the now-Governor. Even if he rarely spoke those words. And so, when this person, one of few who Tebrin truly cared for, even LOVED, said these things, he couldn't help but smile, even faintly, for to call Tebrin HUMAN was more praise than the man would have given himself. He was not so certain - humans felt. Loved. Formed families. Lasting bonds. Tebrin was highly impaired at all of these emotional tasks.

He had given the man potions so that he would not die when he did whatever he had been planning to do, for if Tebrin knew the mapmaker of old, he knew that Glenn would do whatever stupid thing he set his mind to, regardless of the rogue-for-hire's words.

Had he even told Glenn a sister existed? He hadn't - had never spoken of his family to anyone save Calia, not even to Glenn. "Does it matter, Glenn? Even if she lived, even if she were found, I am like as not the last person she'd want to see. Have I even told you about my family? About my past? ...Of course not." He waved off the question dismissively, irked at himself for even asking. Jaw clenched, the man's eyes even went so far as to water, though Tebrin was not certain he was capable of actually shedding a tear any longer. "She's alive. I hear whispers of her now and then. She's good. Doesn't want to be found. And she learned, from me, how NOT to be found. Probably the one thing I ever taught my little sister." This was a bit much. He scowled, took a long swig of the swill that sat before him. "You weren't supposed to care, you know. No one's supposed to care. I don't talk about myself for a reason. If people know nothing about me, I am easier to forget. Harder to find. Harder to HURT. It works with nearly everyone. Why not you? Because we share our dysphoria?" His voice was rising, then, he slammed his glass back down, voice quivering with a sudden flash of white-hot anger, forest-green eyes tearing into Glenn's own.

"Why do YOU want to know so damn much about me?! YEARS go by without me saying a single fucking thing about my past! I'm SHALLOW, I'm VAPID, I'm altogether DETESTABLE, but YOU refuse to believe it! YOU refuse to get the message! YOU. KEEP. CARING! WHY?!" He was shaking, knuckles white upon his glass.

[Glenn]

It was more like five years really, and if you counted the months that they were actually together, interacting, it was a lot less than that. Time had a way of getting away from someone in Myrken, though. When you were on the road, on the run, it was likely even worse. "She's alive. She's out there. We'll find her. And if she doesn't want to be found, truly, maybe we can give her some reason to want to be found." That's what Burnie did. He figured out what people wanted and why and then he made that leverage, ideally for the good of all.

Then Tebrin became upset. Before, Glenn had been impassioned for a moment, but not like this, and it had only lasted a moment. Now he sipped his drink, in control. "You value what you have since you have so little. I value what I have since I've lost so much. That doesn't mean you haven't lost things too, Tebrin, but not in a long time, because you don't let yourself. I'm doing things, Teb, all kinds of things, some good and some bad and some like you wouldn't believe, and I'm doing them for people I care about. Because in this life, I have seen too many people not get a chance, not even a ghost of a chance. What I am building here, I am building for you as much as anyone. I'm building you a chance to stop, to hold your ground, to decide what you want. I like you. I could have been you. You could have been me. You're looking for your sister, Tebrin." Here he'd stop for another sip. "My family is shit. Sold in the womb. Never knew them. Got a brother who's good at polo, they say, though. Far, far away. I had no family. Plenty of friends, but that's all they are. You, you're the closest to kin there is for someone like me. You don't always pick that. You don't always know how it happens, but there it is. And even that wouldn't matter if I didn't like you, but then I do."