Friendless In The Corner

20260501

Prompt combined from DailyPrompt.com and Bradley Ramsey's Halls Of Pandemonium event.

I’d had reservations about taking on that lass, but her situation tugged at my heart strings. It’s not an kind world for a lone mother. I pretended to believe her claims that she’d been widowed and had to sell the ring - who knows, it might even be truth. Either way, she’s shown no sign of bad blood, working hard and staying proper with the customers.
And her little one had been well behaved until now, staying by the hearth like he’d been told. I guess we’d all stopped keeping a close eye on him. So I didn’t realise he’d left his spot until I saw him clambering up onto Dour Pete’s lap! By which point it was too late for me to act.
~*~
Everyone in the tavern would say that yes, they knew Pete, though if pressed they’d readily admit to never having spoken to the man. He kept to himself. That stool in the draughtiest corner might as well have his name on it. Never joined in with singing, or chatter, or even games of chance. And nobody was minded to bother him, it being that while he never started a fight, he was known for finishing them. Efficiently.
Never a flicker while he did it, either. Utter calm. People joked that while most folks only got the one face, Pete had only got the one expression. Deadpan. No telling if he actually felt anything.
So the ring of empty space around him, and the lack of eye contact, or indeed any contact at all, weren’t malicious. If anything they were marks of respect. But, to a small child who until recently had never stayed in one place long enough to get to know anybody, the isolation looked painfully familiar. He knew what it was like to have no friends.
~*~
He just toddles up and tugs on Pete’s knee, then starts hauling himself up like the man’s a chair! I expect him to get cuffed around the ears, or worse, but Pete seems frozen. Staring down at the kid. Blank as always. No telling what he’s thinking.
Then he puts his ale down and helps the kid onto his knee. Awkwardly. Reckon he’s never held a child before. Probably doesn’t know what else to do, and fair enough! I manage to catch the lass’s attention and point. Hoping she’ll rescue her errant sprog.
~*~
I didn’t know anything about the man. Just that he had a thug’s face and everyone avoided him. So of course I assumed the worst. And I assumed the worst when I saw him picking Jonny up. My heart near stopped.
Jonny, blessed sweet cherub that he is, showed no fear of this grim, lonesome stranger. Grins up at a face which I doubt remembers how to smile, then puffs up his cheeks and puts his hands over his eyes.
It’s his favourite game.
The man’s just staring at him. Eyes hooded. He can’t be confused, surely? Is he angered? But if so why would he-
Jonny peels his hands off, gurgles encouragingly, and covers his eyes again.
And the man says, with utter seriousness, “Where’d he go?”
The whole tavern bursts into laughter. I hadn’t realised everyone was watching. Had they been holding their breath, like I had?
Jonny laughs along and takes his hands off to clap.
“Ah.” The man gives a slow nod. Completely ignoring the ruckus around him. Like it’s just Jonny in the room. “There you are.”
Another laugh, Jonny’s little dark curls bobbing as he nods so hard he almost tumbles over - but the man’s rough, calloused hand supports him in time.
Eyes covered.
“Huh. Gone again.”
Giggle, eyes uncovered to peer reassuringly.
“Aha.”
Eyes covered.
“How’d he do that?”
Giggle. Eyes still covered.
“Hm. Gotta be here somewhere.” The man picks up his ale, with the hand which isn’t holding Jonny up, and sips.
Jonny peeps.
“Hmm?” The man lowers his mug. Jonny’s eyes are already covered again.
“Huh. Coulda sworn…”
Jonny is shaking with the effort of holding in giggles.
The man looks up, at me, and, his expression still utterly slack, winks.
Someone’s rapping a table, trying to get my attention. I turn back to work. Need to repay the innkeep’s generosity, taking me on off the road like this. Hopefully he won’t be angry about Jonny bothering someone.
~*~
I can’t believe my eyes. Dour Pete, a man who hunts bears and wild pigs and wolves for a living, a man I’ve seen throw down with two strapping bargers and reduce ‘em both to prone gasping bruise-bags before you could blink, the man who stared down the earl’s head bully-boy while having a sword pointed at his chest… playing peekaboo with a child. Like…
Well, not quite like the kid was his own, but still! I never woulda imagined it. I’m having to pinch myself on the regular.
~*~
He hasn’t signalled for a drink, but I bring him a fresh mug anyway. Figure it gives him the chance to hand me Jonny.
Jonny beams up at me and waves, but - bless him - knows he’s not to bother me while I’m working.
The man quaffs his current mug and hands it to me. Tilts his head at Jonny. “What’s his name?”
“Jonny. After my husband.”
He just nods. Still no expression. Can’t tell what he’s thinking, what he might be assuming about me.
I look at him. I look at Jonny, who’s nestling against the man’s side and yawning. I say “Let me fetch him Winky. And, ah, if he’s being any trouble just-”
“Naw. ’S fine. Nice, even. Most kids are scared of me.”
No surprise. I still can’t read his face. That blank, unwavering stare is disquieting. But… his arm is cradled around Jonny, forming a snug, gentle support.
I smile at the man, and though he doesn’t return it, he does nod. And Jonny seems to be nodding off! Entirely at ease.
Well… I suppose he’s made his first friend here.

Prompt was “Write a short story featuring a character who appears stoic and apathetic but has a small, wholesome quirk.” combined with “Write a story that showcases a single event from at least three different points of view.”