(This is a trigger warning. This story contains domestic violence. If you suffer from domestic violence please seek help in your retrospective communities.)
"Cian, you have to try this really weird sandwich I invented. Two slices of white bread, butter and it has to be butter not margarine with salt and vinegar chips. Then you have to coat it all in yellow mustard. Here try it!" stated Wren as she passed him half of her weird sandwich. Cian took a bite. He wasn't used to people outside of his pack cooking food for him. He loved that Wren was cooking for him.
"Woow, tis is rwelly gwood." he tried to say as he ate the sandwich. "Needs something though and I know what it is." said Cian as he went around the bar.
"What does my amazing sandwich need to help it be more amazing-er?" teased Wren. It had been a few weeks but she was still getting over Layton's death. She no longer cried openly during the day but at night, when she was alone, she cried. Cian didn't regret that he'd killed Layton. Layton had been an abusive bastard. But, Cian loved Wren. He hated seeing Wren mourn Layton's death.
"A Guinness is what you need...Guinness makes everything better. Guinness is good for you." stated Cian. He grabbed a glass and poured a pint like he had a million times before.
"Slainte" he said as he held the glass up to Wren.
"What's..that mean?" questioned Wren as she took a sip, her mouth was still full of sandwich. Then she wiped a bit of foam off her lip.
"It's like cheers or L'chaim but more. It's a celebration of the life that we live. That's Slainte." said Cian. He also poured himself a pint to join Wren.
"Awesome." said Wren as she drank her Guiness down in a few big sips.
Wren had several drinks both Guiness and ciders. Cian kept pouring. He was there to watch Wren. He also understood that she needed a break...from everything. She'd lost her asshole husband who she had always lavished all her time, energy and money on. Wren had put Layton before herself and now she had nothing to focus on. She'd also been working extremely hard for Cian without complaining. So Wren kept drinking and Cian kept pouring.
"Cian, can I tell you something?" questioned tipsily Wren after her fifth pint.
"Sure, what's on your mind Wren?" Cian questioned. He was a firm believer of "in vino vertias". As a bartender he'd heard lots of truths revealed, mostly they were truths he didn't care about like cheating on taxes, petty work things, how a husband should have married his high school sweetheart instead of his wife...general boring human things that Cian didn't care for. However, he wanted to know Wren's "in vino vertias".
