As the River Flows (Saren/River)

It was a wonder to River that he'd made it here, and for a moment he simply stood inside the doorway, checking that he was, indeed, vertical. He could hardly hear through the thud in his head, the steady wump, wump, wump of blood and pain. When he'd gathered enough strength to think again, he turned away from the shop itself and headed for the counter. That was the counter, right? The edges of his vision were a bit black.

"I'll pay whatever you want for the strongest pain potion you've got," he said. Was it stupid to offer all your money for some temporary relief? Maybe, but it was that or curl up and lose a day of classes the way he'd lost last night. He'd just been in too much pain to sleep. "Headache," he explained. "Migraine."

Saren raised his eyebrows at that offer. "You know, no matter what your pain, offering whatever I'll ask is not a good idea." It was bad negotiating, especially when he could put any price he wanted on something with an offer like that. Of course, his patience was somewhat short with customers now, since he was still suspended from the university, so he wasn't keen on the idea of negotiating, anyway.

River dug into his pocket and came up with a handful of random coins. He lay them on the counter, flattening them with his palm to keep from losing any, and to muffle the sound he knew they'd make. When he lifted his palm, he moved it back a bit to steady himself. "Rob me blind," he said, "just help me out and I'll come in a couple times a week."

Saren's eyebrows raised all over again and he didn't move from his place at the counter, bent over a book. "You realize this is twice the price of the strongest one I have? And even then, that potion's for you know, chronic, debilitating pain. Like I can't breathe or move pain." Maybe a large portion of the local population thought he was something of an evil bastard, but he didn't actually support potion abuse.

River clumsily scooped up part of the coins and shoved them back into his pocket without counting. He didn't care how strong the potion was, didn't care about the specific price, didn't care if the shopkeeper only took part of his money and gave him a vial. He was in pain and the longer he was in pain, the more pain he was in. "Is that better?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Saren eyed the guy in front of him, then sighed heavily through his nose before standing. "This potion shouldn't be taken often," he said, opening a cupboard that held some of the stronger potions. "It's not meant as a constant thing to fix a problem." Don't expect me to hand it out like candy.

If he had to, he'd order pain potions by mail or go somewhere else to stock up, but he didn't bother saying as much. There was no point in threats when a potion was on its way. Or was it? River tried to stifle a grimace of pain as he looked toward the source of the shopkeeper's voice. The pain was nearly unbearable, and he struggled to hold on to consciousness.

If you pass out from the pain maybe you'll wake up in better condition.

It was tempting.

When Saren returned to the counter, his eyes caught on the guy's ears and tattoos, things he'd mostly overlooked before and he now had the freedom to take a look at now that the guy seemed distracted. "There, strongest one I can offer without special permissions," he said as he sat the vial on the counter. "Bring me the vial when you're done and I'll give you a knut back."

River gave a slight rolling motion of the hand as though to say whatever, then picked up the vial. A practiced twist had the top off, and he lifted it to his lips, drinking until the pain eased. He managed not to finish the entire thing and tucked it into his pocket. Now he was able to focus a little on the jerk behind the counter. "Do you give everyone this much trouble?" he asked.

"Only when they buy the top potentially addictive stock I have," Saren said. He scooped the money away and tucked it into his register. "I want repeat business, but only legitimate repeat business." The last thing he needed was a horde of potion addicts banging on his door. There was enough on his plate already, what with the residual punishments for his use of so-called dark magic.

I'm not a potion addict! River shook his head, then turned to leave. He'd go somewhere else next time, but at least he had something in his pocket now.