Blackthorne waved to the curmudgeonly old alchemist as he finished up for the day. Alchemy tome in hand, and well over a thousand jerin richer, he'd performed excellent work for the day. In fact, he'd crafted enough crystals from the available materials to raise his synergy, and improved synergy refinement skills past the next milestone ranks.

As he staggered toward the Screaming Onion, he fought the urge to fall asleep in the streets. His entire night was spent locked in battle with the voices inside his mind. If he were not nearly finished for the day anyway, he would need to rest soon regardless of the situation.

He gasped in a shuddering breath then blew it out slowly. "I've got to do something about those stupid emotions of mine," he groused. There were still several hours left on Earth before he needed to wake up and go to work. As things stood, he would need to let his body rest in this world soon so that he could split the burden on his psyche with his other self that current slept back in the world of bullshit he had lived in for most of his life.

The Screaming Onion was busy as usual when he entered, but nowhere near the level of activity that it would possess in a few hours. Caught in the sweet moments between the lunch rush and the dinner rush, he found it easy to navigate the front area. He raised his hand to Scraggles and joined him at the counter.

"You look like you've seen better days," said Scraggles with a smile.

"Just a bit tired. I'll call it a day early and go to bed soon, just wanted to make a payment for the room and for..." said Blackthorne. His true meaning was left unspoken, but Scraggles understood what he wanted.

"How much?" asked Scraggles.

"The room for another week, and a thousand on the other... item," said Blackthorne.

"A thousand, eh? Someone much have had a busy day," said Scraggles.

Blackthorne looked up at him, the redness and strain evident in his eyes, "Yeah, busy is a good word for it."

Scraggles noted the payment. "This is good. It marks the process as official now. Thirteen hundred to go..."

The exhausted would-be Valkyrie master yawned softly then nodded. "Looking forward to it almost as much as I am looking forward to a nap."

"How long this time?" asked Scraggles curiously. He pulled out a clear glass mug and began to pour a frothy brew into it. The pale amber color was as close to perfect as one might hope for, and it carried a luxurious head of foam to boot.

"Same as usual. I have to go to my day job back on my world. So, a day or two here," said Blackthorne.

"I don't think you ever told me what you do over there," said Scraggles before he slid the drink down toward the exhausted man.

Blackthorne did not have the heart to tell the man that he was not much of a drinker. His home-life as a child soured him on the prospect entirely. He did not want to be rude, however. Not to mention the fact that the man chose to use an actual glass mug instead of a wooden cup. He reserved such things for his high paying customers.

"Cheers," he said after he grabbed the mug and raised it into the air.

"Thanks for this..." he said before he made himself take a drink. He tried to fight down the disgusting thoughts that surfaced as his bastard stepfather's drunken face reared up inside his head. The beer itself was about as close to perfect as he could have gotten, and considerably better than the few pathetic offerings he had tried on Earth.

He drained half of his mug before he sat it down again. Truth be told it was

"As far as my other life..." said Blackthorne. He took a moment to gaze down into his beer mug. "I survive somehow."

Scraggles nodded. "I hear ya."

The tavern owner did not press for details, and Blackthorne offered him none of his own volition. They did spend a few minutes chatting about various things, however. Blackthorne learned a bit about what it was like to be a tavern owner in the dream. He also discovered that Scraggles was a brew master of some renown.

People traveled for days just to get a taste of what he had to offer. In many ways, his tavern was livelier than the other supposedly higher quality inns in town. It was typical for people to stay at the higher quality inns, but take their meals at the Onion. They each had their charms when it came to room quality, but none could beat the Screaming Onion for a proper pint or a good meal.

"Oh, and here you are just drinking away the day," said Jackie as she came down the stairs wearing nothing but a quirk of her eyebrow. In her arms she carried her apron.

"I was lamenting being without you and stuff," said Blackthorne in a dry manner.

She snorted loudly at him then put a little extra wiggle in her walk as she sauntered past him. Blackthorne gave her a sarcastic salute with two fingers then took another swig of his beer.

"Mhmm," she said before she tilted her nose into the air and sashayed into the kitchen.

Scraggles could not help but smile at their antics. "It's good to see her in high spirits like this. I was not fond of her desperation."

"Desperation, huh..." said Blackthorne.

Scraggles nodded. "I don't get into people's business that often. She opted to sell something she no longer valued due to what that bastard did to her. She would have been better off working some other way, but she wanted to earn money as quickly as possible in case he decided to try and come back for her."

"You didn't take a cut?" asked Blackthorne with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Of course I did. When I first took over this bar it was a brothel. I'm a business man, and not prone to judge people for their work choices as long as they are legal."

"Is that so?" asked Blackthorne.

Scraggles raised his hand then made a dismissive gesture. "I was fine with people conducting legal business here. None of my business who has sex with whom, and if they bother to charge each other money. I rented the rooms and charged a security deposit to clean up the messes and toss rowdy patrons. The girls were all freelance otherwise."

He took a breath then sighed, "But it didn't work out in the long run."

"Why not?" asked Blackthorne.

"There's too many headaches. Some guy or other is always trying to hurt the girls because that's what he wants. The guard had to come through frequently due to me beating someone within an inch of their life on a weekly basis," said Scraggles.

"The money would have been good, though, right?" asked Blackthorne.

"Of course!" said Scraggles with a laugh. He sobered up after a moment, however. "There's other reasons, but in the end the money just wasn't worth the constant hassles to me. I retired for a reason."

He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. "Jack, at least, can take care of herself for the most part. When she says no, she means it."

"She seems pretty strong..." said Blackthorne. His eyes roved back down to his beer. He remembered more than one time in recent days when he'd noticed that she'd been crying. She tried to hide it, but the situation did bother her greatly.

"Yeah, she does seem that way," agreed Scraggles. He too acquired a thoughtful expression.

"So, why not just run away with her yourself? You two seem to get along well together?" asked Blackthorne.

Scraggles barked out a laugh. "My wife and kids would not care too much for that."

"What? You're married?" asked Blackthorne incredulously.

"Ey now... What's with making it sound like I couldn't have a wife and kids?" asked Scraggles, a slight sparkle in his eyes.

"Ah, it's just that I thought I heard you say you had no family..." said Blackthorne, "I'm pretty sure you specifically told me that you'd never had someone like that..."

Scraggles shook his head. "I do, but they don't live here. The wife doesn't approve of me letting Jackie work freelance, and she didn't want the kids to be around a naked chef all day. I visit them one weekend a month."

"I see. Helping Jackie meant that much to you?" asked Blackthorne.

"The wife wants her to get help, too. She just doesn't want to be around the current situation," said Scraggles. "I don't blame her. I married her after my brothel days."

"Will they come back now that Jackie is finding... other employment?" asked Blackthorne.

"She's waiting for you to finalize things with me," said Scraggles. "You're both welcome to stay here, of course. Provided neither of you take of the oldest profession once more."

Blackthorne nodded to him then looked down into his beer. It made no sense. Scraggles made it sound like he'd always had a family, but he'd heard the man blatantly say that he'd never had a proper wife. Did that mean his wife was improper, or did it mean that something else was going on?

He chalked the situation up to a misunderstanding then let it go. If Scraggles had a wife and kids then more power to him. At least he would not be lonely without Jackie around.

Blackthorne bid his goodbyes to Scraggles then briefly visited Jackie in the kitchen. She made hmm-ing noises while cutting vegetables, never slipping up in her cutting rhythm even once until he mentioned making his first real payment.

She stared down at her vegetables briefly. In a calm tone she'd said, "Is that so?" before she went back to chopping vegetables.

Back up in his room, Blackthorne relaxed on his bed for a time. "I can't believe I have to cut out early."

The creeping exhaustion took its toll, however. It was not long before he fell asleep and his alter-ego awoke on Earth.

Scott rubbed his eyes then yawned. "Man, I needed more sleep here, too."

He crawled out of bed then staggered to the bathroom to relieve himself. Another yawn echoed through the room as he unleashed his fury upon his porcelain throne.

Morning ritual finished he headed into the kitchen in search of a snack. "Shit, it's not even light out yet," he muttered after he looked out his kitchen window.

He groused and grumbled a bit while he searched through the fridge for left overs. "Sandwiches it is then..." he said in a strangely cryptic tone.

Crafting materials acquired, he shut the door then blinked as something caught his eye. It was a photo that he'd stuck on the fridge with a magnet. "The... holy shit!"

It had taken until for the truth to register in his head, but he now knew where he'd seen the new girl at work! She was the childhood friend of that extremely lucky bastard!

"Wait..." he said as the hamster wheel in his mind began to turn, "Wait, wait..."

Scott's eyes widened suddenly as he came to a conclusion. "No wonder that girl has been so friendly with me! She's convinced herself that I'm her childhood friend!"

He looked at the photo. Bright red hair. Vibrant green eyes. A body that would cause people to shriek the word 'unfair' in forty different languages simultaneously if they knew enough to speak them... She had to be mistaken! There was no way that he would not remember being friends with her!

"Poor girl... I guess I need to let her down easy," he said with a sign. "I mean... the only childhood friend that I had other than my sister was...."

As though the hand of fate itself came into play, his doorbell rang. Scott stopped musing about the possibility of his childhood friend becoming a hot babe and went to see who'd bother him at such an early time.

He opened the door and started to speak only to realize who it was, "Shara?"

"Hi, Scott..." she said in a cheerful, but still somehow shy, tone of voice.

"Hi..." he said, his eyes widening to the extent that they threated to pop out of his head. No longer wearing the Archers' uniform, she now stood before him wearing a decidedly different outfit.

Hair tied up in a ponytail held in place by a bright yellow tie, was the most normal aspect of her attire. Clad in little more than a red strip of cloth wrapped around her body in such a way that it resembled a cross between a cheongsam dress, a ninja outfit, and a swimsuit, she would have caused a twenty car pile-up on any interstate highway.

Her wrapped bit of cloth was held in place by a surprisingly sturdy bit of rope that looped over her shoulders. Her clothing, or lack thereof, was held mostly in place by a fluffy belt that doubled as two makeshift tails, one red and one white. Said tails was adorned with two oversized red and white beads roughly the same size as a cantaloupe. The red bead took up its position on the white tail, and the white bead adorned the red tail.

As for her footwear, Scott knew nothing of it. His eyes were far too surprised for him to look down far enough to become concerned with such things.

Her hips were left bare, though the material of her ensemble dipped down past her groin to lightly obscure one of her other notable feminine attributes.

"I..." she began, her words trailing off for a moment, "Well, I saw your light was on so I figured I'd dress up like old times and come visit. We don't get to talk at work..."

"That outfit... You—" began Scott. The wall of bullshit and denial that he'd erected over his childhood memories was washed away in the moment. There was no denying the truth now. Her name, and her outfit resonated clearly with his memories.

Shara performed a half crouching maneuver then reared back slightly to give him an excellent view of her feminine assets. She swayed energetically from side-to-side a little then bounced up and down before she flashed a peace sign. "I might need to redo it a bit. I've grown a little since we were kids.

Scott stared at the bouncing vision before him. The new girl at work, his new neighbor, really was his old childhood friend. More to the point she'd worn her customary outfit... a cosplay of Mai Shiranui from Fatal Fury.

She pulled a Japanese folding fan out of somewhere, and then made an exaggerated motion to move it in front of her mouth. Her motion caused a disturbing amount of physics defying breast jiggle that made Scott's eyes begin to water.

"Oh. Ho. Ho. Ho. Ho," she laughed with perfect enunciation while gazing at him over the top of her fan.

Scott's eyes widened further than even he could have imagined to be possible even as his left eyelid began to twitch spastically. What fresh new hell was this? The voices in his head were no doubt about to have a field day at his expense.