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Bar talk

You head over to the bar and sit down next to her. "You alright?" you ask her, and she jumps. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"It's.. It's okay. I'm... It's been a long day," she stammers.

"What happened?" you ask, showing genuine concern.

She shakes her head, "Oh no. I'm not saying a damn word. I'm not going to get myself locked up as some whack job." She swigs more of the alcohol and looks at you. "I'm packing my things and getting on the first flight back home. If you're smart, you'll do the same thing. Whatever you do don't go back to that castle. It's fucked up, and I want to stay alive." The bartender raises an eyebrow at her but says nothing.

"You run into the local wildlife up there?" you ask her.

She laughs. "I guess that's one way to put it. I wouldn't call it 'life" though." She pauses for a moment, staying silent and staring off at her glass. Finally she looks right at you, grabbing your wrist. "Listen to me. We've had issues in the past, and I've screwed you over a few times. But LISTEN to me, I don't want you getting hurt, killed, or... worse. If you need your pics, drive to some other piss ant European town and take your pics there. Screw it. Stop over in Scotland and do it there. Just avoid that place and stay wait from it." She continues staring at you with deadly seriousness, waiting for your response. Obviously she's not going to take 'no' as a valid answer, so you agree. She nods. "Good. I'm going up to my room and packing. Next up is a taxi, and I'll see you at the airport."

"I need to drop the rental van off."

"Whatever. So long as you're there." She slaps down a number of large bills onto the counter. Either she was overtipping, or she had been drinking here for a while. You watch her as she heads upstairs.

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