Sarah sighed when she saw the mugging, mostly because it was happening right in front of her on the narrow sidewalk.
At least, she assumed it was a mugging. Maybe the two men in hoods pointing daggers at the young woman were asking for directions, or maybe they were aggressive knife salesmen. It can be so unfair to assume.
"Give us the purse nicely, or we'll take it anyway and cut that pretty face of your's," said one man. Perhaps the unspoken words in that sentence were, 'and we'll exchange these fine, artisanal daggers that you're buying!'
"Actually," said the customer / victim in a much lower voice than she expected, meaning, the figure in front of her was actually a male. "This isn't a purse, it's a money pouch, and it's got the store's earnings for the last couple of hours. I can't just give it to you."
"Fuck! You're a man? What kind of faggot are you?"
He seemed unconcerned about this, despite being dwarfed by the men next to him and outdaggered. "There's like... a lot of problematic assumptions and reactions to unpack here."
A male? She was so surprised by this that she was lost in thought a moment as she continued walking, which meant she ended up stopping five feet from the scene. She had assumed from the petite height of the person, and the tightness of the leather pants, as well as the shapely butt and legs that filled them meant the figure was a woman. Not that men can't have well-shaped posteriors, they just often keep them a closely guarded secret in pants that are cut like a pair of tubes.
"Hey, keep walkin' stranger, this don't concern... umm... you," said one of the men.
His hesitation was probably because Sarah was rather well armed for an innocent bystander. She had just finished a pair of arena matches tonight, including a special exhibition where she slaughtered a dozen vargs - aggressive, monstrous wolf like creatures. The entertainment wasn't very humane, but it was very human in its appeal.
The exhibition was after her match, which meant she was covered in blood on her armor and face and limbs.
"Um," the would-be thief nudged his companion who was focused on the young man.
"Maybe we'll take the money and... and stick our cocks in your pretty mouth! And fuck you up your tight ass! To punish you for being such a fag! That'll show you." Said the other thief. "Being so gay and stuff!"
"Um," another nudge from his companion.
Sarah rolled her eyes. Lazily, she placed a hand on the hilt of her sword and unsheathed it with the air of someone cleaning up an unpleasant mess of vomit off their freshly cleaned kitchen floor.
"Just... go," she said. "I'd rather not, but... y'know."
It was hardly the most heroic phrase to utter when intervening on behalf of the weak and defenseless, but she was tired.
This finally caught the attention of the other thief who looked at Sarah, brandishing a sword of her own, armored, and with a Resting Bitch Face so strong, it emitted homicidal waves that were practically tangible.
"Leave the daggers," she said.
There were a series of metallic clatters onto the cobbles, and then the two men walked away whistling casually, remarking on law-abiding they were.
"Huh," said the man. "Thanks! You rescued me. I wasn't expecting that."
"Me neither," Sarah said, sheathing the weapon. She knelt down and picked up the daggers. They weren't awful and would fetch a few silvers at a pawn store. "So, you're carrying a bunch of money at night to the bank to deposit? And you're not armed?"
"No," he said. "I'm Jay by the way."
"Sarah," she said. "You new in town?"
"I am!" he said brightly.
"Yeah, that's not a good thing. People get robbed regularly here, and intervention by armed strangers doesn't happen unless they're there to shake the thieves down. Why would your business let you go by yourself to deposit it?"
"Well, I'm the only man working there, so I thought it was only right of me to deposit it. Besides, most of the time, people ignore me. Unless some man wolf whistles me, but then I just keep walking."
"How'd they know you had any money anyway?" She asked. "I assume you don't just walk with that purse out in your hands like that."
"Oh no. He stepped out of that alleyway and asked me if I had any money on me. I said, I had a large amount of money that I was depositing and that..."
"You told... a man, who just stepped out of an alley that you had lots of money on you?"
"Right. And I told him that I was really nervous because I wasn't armed and didn't know how to fight anyway, so I was in a hurry to do so and it over with."
Sarah's mind boggled. She felt thankful for the distraction because she found herself staring at his features, which were delicate and fine, with dark hair and eyes. His skin was like muted gold and his eyes had an exotic look to them.
"Really?"
"Yes," he said. "My mother always told me to be honest."
"Okay," Sarah said. "She didn't give you any sort of exceptions or nuance to that rule?"
He looked up, biting his full lower lip in thought. "You know, I'm starting to think she did. Can't remember what she said though..."
"Jeez," she said. "It's a good thing you're pretty."
"Thanks! My face is my fortune, as mother said. But I'm not sure that's true here. Where I come from that was true for both men and women. Here... you have an odd, um, valuing of beauty here."
"Indeed," she said. Sarah tore her gaze from his face and looked up the street. "The bank's around the corner, how about I walk you there, and then you can get back to work."
"That would be great!" He said. "But I'd like to pay you back."
"That's not necessary," she said automatically, leading the way.
