The town of Argent was both larger and smaller than it first seemed. Blackthorne spent the better part of the day exploring the area after Patrolman Greene escorted him to every feasibly interesting place imaginable. During their travels, he learned a bit about the local culture and acquired a working knowledge of where the useful stores were located.

"So, have you had your fill of our little town now dreamer?" asked the patrolman after returning with Scott to the Screaming Onion.

"I'll be here for a while," replied Blackthorne without concern for the patrolman's surliness. The man acted like every moment spent in his presence was an assault on his honor.

"Of course you will," said the patrolman with a slight sneer.

Unable to deal with the passive aggressive bullshit much longer, Blackthorne asked, "Is there a reason why you act like I killed your family and raped your dog?"

"What?" asked Patrolman Greene intelligently.

"What, my ass. I literally did nothing to you but ask directions, and you act like I'm a criminal," replied Blackthorne.

The patrolman snorted at him then offered a sinister smile, "Are you becoming unruly, dreamer? I could arrest you for disturbing the peace."

"Go ahead. I'm sure your guard captain would love to hear all about how that happened," said Blackthorne.

"Is that a threat?" asked the patrolman. "Is the big bad dreamer threatening me?"

"I'm done with you, just go back to where you belong," said Blackthorne snidely.

"You're the one who needs to—" began the town guard heatedly.

"Hey! It's Roger," called a warm feminine voice.

Blackthorne looked to the source of the voice, while Patrolman Greene avoided turning around altogether. A pretty girl in a low-cut top bounced over to where the two men were standing.

"Hi, are you one of Roger's friends?" asked the girl in an endearing manner. She smiled sweetly and Blackthorne then looked toward the patrolman. "You didn't tell me that you'd made friends with another dreamer."

"He is not my friend, Janith!" snapped Roger.

"Really?" asked Janith, before eyeing Blackthorne a little. "He looks friendly enough, and he's a dreamer..."

"Name's Blackthorne," said Blackthorne. "Nice to meet you... Ms. Janith was it?"

"Blackthorne, wow how exotic," she said enthusiastically.

"That's enough!" snapped Roger. "This dreamer is not my friend, and you're embarrassing yourself."

People poked their head out of the tavern, and stopped nearby on the street to look at the spectacle. It was not every day that a town guard shouted in public.

"Who's being embarrassing? You're my brother, not our father!" said Janith.

"Do you need to throw yourself at every dreamer passing through?" asked Roger. "You're practically salivating!"

Blackthorne noticing the growing crowd and angry words slipped back and into the tavern. Let the fools argue in the street. He needed to rest for a while to heal up from his wounds.

The last thing he heard from the siblings was Janith crying out, "Just because you didn't have the balls to confess to Darlis, and she picked a dreamer, doesn't mean you get to tell me who I can spend my time with!"

Blackthorne went quickly to his room. He wanted no part in a sibling quarrel.

His rented room was a simple affair. There was a bed, a desk table with a lantern, and a window that faced the town wall. "Forty-five Jerin a night, meals and bath included..."

Given what he'd learned about the price of things while wandering through town, forty-five Jerin was reasonable. His funds increased a bit by selling his gathered items in town. As he had expected, his grass items were not worth anything. However, the rat horns and bits of crystal were considered worth purchasing.

After a little negotiation he had managed to gain another eighty-eight Jerin. It wasn't enough to live at the inn for more than two days unless it was at the reduced rate, sadly. He would not need baths and meals when he was unconscious, so he could keep the room a little longer by not paying for those extras.

Still, living arrangements were a serious issue. If he did not have control of this room for lengthy periods of time, his dream body would be tossed out on the street when room fees were not paid. It would even be possible that Scraggles would refuse to rent him a room after such a situation occurred.

"Shit, with these bruises it'll be days before I can even regenerate my life force," said Blackthorne to himself. "I have to go back to work soon. Days could pass here while I'm stuck dealing with stuff back there."

"Eating meals here would help with healing my body, but that damned bruise on my shin is going to be a problem," he muttered. The increased regeneration from actual cooked food would allow him to heal from most of his injuries by tomorrow morning, but the major bruise on his shin would take at least three days to heal completely even with bolstered regeneration. That boost would run out at some point once he awoke in the real world.

"Two more days till I can regenerate my life force even if I stayed here the whole time..." grumbled Scott. "Still won't be fully healed even then..."

After he stopped muttering to himself like a deranged homeless person, he stood up then wandered off to the bath area. He'd cleaned himself up a little earlier in the day, but it was time for a soak.

His body was a mass of minor bruises, and light cuts that did not even register as important injuries, Blackthorne looked forward to a long soak in a tub. Bath fees brought with them soap, wash cloth, and a towel.

"Alright, how did this work again?" asked Blackthorne. He fiddled with the wall crystals, the method for acquiring water.

"That's not right," muttered the man when only cold water shot out. There were three crystals on the wall. One generated cold water. One generated hot water. The other emptied and cleaned the tub.

"You have to use the hot water stone first and then tap the cold water to lower the temperature to your liking," said a familiar voice. Blackthorne looked over to see that Jackie had mysteriously appeared. Instinctively, he covered his naked shame with his towel and stepped backward closer to the tub.

Clad in nothing but the world's two luckiest towels. One towel covered her hair like a turban. The other covered locations of keen interest to many others who might be interested in the wonders of nature. She stood with her feet slightly parted and her hips canted to one side. In one arm she held various bathing items including another towel.

Briefly, he considered asking her why she was in the men's bath. Not long after the urge appeared he chose to ignore it. Were her bathing habits really any of his business?

"Ah, thank you," said Blackthorne before tapping the red crystal. Hot steaming water flowed into the tub from a more traditional looking faucet. Once the tub was two-thirds of the way full, he tested it with his finger then hissed. He'd be boiled alive if he bathed in that kind of heat!

Jackie giggled softly at his antics then casually disrobed and folded her towels one atop another. Blackthorne did his best not to stare, but it proved impossible. His eyes wide like an owl who had seen far too much of the night life, he blinked twice and blindly tried to tap the cold water crystal by waving his hand toward it.

She laughed at him once more then shimmied over to him. Jackie invaded his personal space by nearly pressing up against him, "Is it really so difficult?"

Blackthorne swallowed hard then coughed lightly. "Maybe it's a little hard..."

"Only a little?" she asked with a cute pout.

He turned his head to the side slightly, "Well, I've dealt with harder."

She tilted her head back then reached over and lightly tapped the cold water crystal, "As have I..."

"Do I need an adult or something..." asked Blackthorne when she pressed against him a little. It was becoming difficult to look at her. She was far too gloriously naked.

An itching sensation began to skitter across his skin, and his breath quickened. This sort of situation was both wonderful and unnerving for him.

"Garbage..." said a voice inside his head. Immediately, his heart skipped a beat and his breath quickened to a point just shy of a panic attack.

"Sick freak..." spoke the voice. He closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to fight off the ghostly voices plaguing his mind.

Jackie mistook his closed eyes for shyness. She chuckled softly then leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "Do you?"

"Make her call you daddy..." said the voice snidely, just before the sound of a young girl crying out in pain echoed through his head, "Little bitches love to scream for daddy..."

"No!" he snapped breathlessly. The images in his mind faded slightly and for a brief moment they took the voices with them. However, the damage was done and they did still orbit at the edges of his awareness waiting for another chance to strike.

"Ah..." said Jackie before stepping back from him quickly. The look in his eyes now was wild, like a feral animal looking for a way to get free of a trap. It was a familiar look that made her own eyes go wide briefly.

After a short moment, Blackthorne began to calm down a little. "Sorry... You've been a big help."

"I appreciate the interest, but I just want to take a bath and go to bed..." he said after gulping in a bit of air.

Jackie's eyes narrowed slightly as she briefly saw his words as a rebuke, but then the strange expression he wore caused confusion to blossom within her. It would be difficult for her to describe to someone else. There was an almost desperate air about him, and a palpable desire to be left alone practically radiated from the man. Yet, he did not run away, or do anything else.

The more she observed him, the more she realized something disturbing. He ceased looked like a strong warrior. In that moment his mannerisms almost looked like he expected her to reach out and strike him.

His lips trembled and he began to play with his hands a little while looking away from her. She leaned in slightly and he snapped his head to the side then began to hyperventilate slightly.

"No problem..." she said softly, before gathering her items.

She walked to the door and looked back over her shoulder. "Glad I could help..." she said, before she wandered off to the female side of the bath.

Blackthorne sank down to his knees then curled his fingers into fists. He struck the floor angrily, even as his chest began to heave. "God damn it..." he growled in self-deprecation.

Eventually, he slid down onto his ass and covered his eyes with one hand. Tears trickled down his cheeks as unwanted images of his childhood paraded themselves through the landscape of his mind. Rest would be difficult to achieve that night.

In the female side of the bath, Jackie had a strangely similar reaction. She ran her bath water while glaring down at the tub. "Those eyes..."

"I never wanted to see them again," she said heatedly before growling low under her breath.

Steam from the bath rose into the air kissing her flesh gently in its misty manner. Drops of water flowed down her glorious feminine architecture accentuating her physical beauty in an almost erotic display. However, her face did not join the rest of her body in anticipation of a hot bath. It shifted from a pinched mask of rage to one of confusion.

"Damn it..." she whispered softly. It was his business, but those eyes haunted her imagination.