MAN OUT THE WINDOW

"Hey, aren't you that trashy kid from the House of Zenith?"

Ravan's heart sank, his mind racing as he stared at the man.

Ravan stumbled slightly, trying to keep his composure as the drunk man continued to sneer at him.

'I knew something like would happen.'

'If I loose my composure, his statement will be for sure.'

Ravan thought to himself and wanting to play out the situation at hand.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself and doing his best to appear calm and disinterested.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ravan said evenly, his eyes meeting the man's but showing no recognition.

"You've got the wrong person."

The drunk man laughed bitterly, taking a swig from his bottle.

"Oh, don't play dumb with me, boy."

"I know who you are. I can't tell by the House Symbol on your shirt pocket because I used to work in the Zenith stables."

"Until your dear old father kicked me out for bedding one of the maids."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowing with hatred.

"She was a beautiful young lady, you should've seen me fondle her big breasts...it was heaven I tell ya!"

"I got whipped for that, you know. Brutally. Left scars I'll carry for the rest of my life. I hate the Zenith family."

'Why is he even telling us this details,'Ravan thought still keeping his composure.

'Drunkards sure talk alot of unnecessary stuff.'

Ravan listened, feeling a strange detachment.

He knew he should feel some sort of empathy or guilt, but he felt nothing.

The truth was, he didn't see himself as part of the Zenith family anymore, and this man's tale, while tragic, didn't stir any deep emotions in him.

'That's the old man's problems now.'

What he did feel was a strong desire to avoid drawing any more attention to himself.

"I'm sorry for your troubles," Ravan said, his voice carefully neutral.

"But I'm not the person you think I am. I'm just passing through."

The old man beside Ravan gave the drunk a hard look, silently warning him to back off.

"Okay, I think its time you live..."

"Kindly,"the old man said.

Being in the clear lighting Ravan had noticed his hair was rather a quiet and comforting mixture of Blue and white colour.

'Blue hair?'

Hebhad never seen anyone with blue hair.

It was strange to him but at the same time he thought it was pretty cool than his plain black hair.

The drunk man, swaying slightly, took another swig of his beer and muttered under his breath.

"Bastards, the lot of them."

"You're all the same...all of ya Zenith Bastards!" He continued before letting out a hiccup.

Ravan remained still, his heart pounding but his face calm.

He hoped the man would lose interest and go away. The drunk's ranting continued, but it became more disjointed and incoherent as he drank more.

The drunk man continued to insist, his voice growing louder and more belligerent.

"You're that weakling from the accursed Zenith family! I know it!"

'I guess he must've seen me somewhere atound the house but that was years ago I presume,' Ravan thought.

Ravan's heart pounded as the drunkard's shouts began to attract the attention of the patrons downstairs.

The old man stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation.

"You've had too much to drink. This boy isn't who you think he is."

But the drunkard wouldn't listen, his eyes wild with anger and inebriation.

"I don't care what you say! I'm telling everyone!"

He turned towards the door, ready to call for more people to join him. Ravan's panic spiked.

"Do something!" he hissed to the old man.

Without hesitation, the old man delivered a swift, precise blow to the drunkard's shoulder.

The man crumpled instantly, the bottle slipping from his grasp and shattering on the floor, beer spilling everywhere.

"Did you kill him?" Ravan was quick to ask.

"No, I didn't,"the old man with light blue hair said.

It would be a burden being kicked out of his own home and then eventually having to face jail time.

Ravan did know it was possible though but the gods would have to be really against him to pull of such a stunt just to piss off the young lad.

The room fell silent as they both stared at the unconscious body.

"We need to get rid of him," the old man said calmly.

Together, they closed the door to the room, ensuring no one outside would see what happened.

The old man hoisted the drunkard's limp body and carried it to the window.

With a grunt, he pushed the man through, and they both watched as he fell to the ground below with a dull thud.

"Is he dead?" Ravan asked, a mixture of fear and relief in his voice.

The old man shook his head.

"No, he'll wake up in the morning thinking he just got really drunk again. He'll be in a lot of pain from the fall, but he'll live."

Ravan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Let's hope that's the end of it."

The old man nodded. "We should get some rest. We need to be ready to move on first thing in the morning."

Ravan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Let's try to avoid any more attention," he said quietly, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

They settled into the room, the tension slowly easing.

Ravan knew they had narrowly avoided a larger conflict, and he was grateful for the old man's quick thinking.

As they lay down to sleep, the events of the night replayed in his mind, a reminder of how precarious their situation was.

"At this rate, trouble will be following me around wherever I go," Ravan thought.

But he's thinking led him to blurting out and being audible to the old man.

"You're right I'll tell you that."

"Life has a way on picking on the weak mostly."the old man said before laying on the ground after placing his robe.

He then proceeded to cover himself with one of the sheets from the single bed.

"You're sleeping on the floor?"Ravan asked.

The old man didn't reply but rather turned to sleep.

'I guess he really is.'

'Oh well, the lavish bed is mine for the night.'