Red looked him over and laughed, “And yet, you wear that ugly cloak that they used to make all criminals wear. That practice really is antiquated, and no wonder. That burnt orange color is really atrocious and forcing someone to wear it should be considered a crime in and of itself.”
“He speaks the truth though,” Kitalia added in. “I have his records with me. He was being tried for a double murder in his hometown, but one of the arbiters got him a stay of judgement by arguing that they themselves could not render a verdict given the circumstances of the crime.”
“A double murder. I wish I could say that’s a new one, but sadly we’ve had many murderers come through here. All of them proclaiming their innocence of course, but still, accused and convicted all the same. We treat everyone equally here.”
Kre swallowed the last bite of his hand and brushed his hands against his pants. “I guess that’s a difference then. I’m guilty.”
“A refreshing point of view,” she mused. “Criminals never admit guilt. I think it’s rule number one or some such thing.”
“And you? What is your crime that you needs be here, providing comfort for those like me?”
Both of the women chuckled as if at some inside joke. “There you go again,” Kre fumed, slamming down the small plate he had just picked up. Pieces of shattered porcelain went flying off in different directions. “You’re holding back and I’m sick of being the butt of the joke around here.”
“Such anger,” Red mused. “It’s… potent.” She closed her eyes briefly and inhaled deeply through her nose. “You’re bleeding as well.”
Kre looked down at his hand, where a thin red line was beginning to form across his palm. He wasn’t certain, but he thought that he saw Red’s tongue flick out just enough to touch the outside of her lips.
“Here,” Kitalia stood, pulling a silk cloth from a pocket and pressing it against Kre’s hand. “That was stupid.”
“Yes,” he agreed. He tried to pull his hand away, but she was holding it tightly, putting pressure against the cut. “I’m sorry about the plate,” he muttered to Red, “and the mess. I’ll clean it up.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Red said finally. She opened her eyes slowly and regarded Kre with a more attentive gaze. “You do wear your emotions boldly. Gumption. Anger. Indignation. Apologetic. All fiercely sincere and deep emotions.”
“You keep saying weird stuff like that.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he spotted Kitalia give a slight shake of her head and felt a tighter squeeze on his hand, as if she were warning him not to go there. That only steeled his resolve to know. “What do you mean by all of it?”
“It’s a quirk of mine,” Red said, a little too quickly. “I suppose you could call me a student of the world… of people and how they interact. I guess that’s why I run a place like this.” She gestured above and around her.
“This place,” she smiled, sounding more confident in her response than she had initially, “this place is my home and the folks that stay here, however long they decide, are as close as family. I love them as such and I love that I can be there for them, to comfort them when they are hurt, to guide them when they are lost, to care for them when they are sick or in need, and to calm them when they are blind with anger. I care about people’s emotions because I want to be able to respond quickly and properly.”