I walked past in a window-shopping attitude, as if I were paying attention to nothing but exactly what I was ignoring. My weight suddenly shifted. The fat pimp dug in its claws momentarily, leaning over to rim the crest of my ear. Shivers through me, flowing into cheap black boots. The lantern flickered overhead.

I can't look at it. I just keep walking into the recesses of night, occasionally nodding to the men on stilts, oil slithering down the light posts like footfalls on the cobblestone.

The harbor is quiet tonight. Waves lap gently against the old wood, while ships creak and groan like the drunkards in their stomachs. I'm wondering what preparations I need to make, what fortifications would work best for the next assaults.

Feathers brush against my cheek. I inadvertently look in that direction. From the alleyway she comes, shadows flowing to accentuate her brazenly immodest figure. She moves toward me, purposeful, with a thin smile. I haven't known the touch of a woman in years. The corner of my eye betrays two yellow orbs, veiled with interest. The parrot looks over to me at purpose, then back to the woman now standing several yards away.

Her arms crossed under her chest, she rests herself against a nearby cart, casually tilting her head toward the sea. I know she's feigning, but that's beside the point.

The pimp stares at me, long and hard. That beak against my ear. The memory moves down my spine when I look at the thing.

"How much?" I casually ask.

No reaction; it simply moves its heard toward the lass. And then I see the knife tucked by her side. She smiles again, taking a few steps toward us. I can feel the metal point pressed against my ear, trailing down my neck and along my chest down to the 5th rib. Her eyes flash. I can imagine it going in, twisting once, twice.

I turn around and walk away, the parrot lightly flapping down to the ground as it stares off after me. And as if in some potrait vignette they stand there, eyes burrowing into my back.

She didn't want the money, just me. Somehow that didn't matter at all. I crawl up to the battlements and signal the guard on duty. The torchlight overhead flows through my mind as orders start forming down the line. New plans must be made.

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