For a while now, he'd had the feeling that he'd only walked past closed doors and dark windows. The storm rattled the shutters while at the same time it pushed the cold snow into his face. The skin of his face felt like a mask by now. A burning sensation raced down his cheeks every time he clenched his teeth in the cold. His clothes were too soaked to really warm him. In fact, it was a miracle that he could still move at all. He turned the corner at the next intersection. The sudden light in front of him, shining through the curtain of snowflakes, hurt his eyes. He blinked in irritation. How long had he not done that? It felt like his eyelashes were frozen to his skin.
Curiously, he approached the building. After he got used to it, the light seemed to call him to it. It promised warmth, something to eat, and security from this blizzard. A shield swung back and forth in the wind. It was just difficult to decipher. Snow and ice covered most of the area. He could only make out one word: Inn.
An inn around here? Had he heard of it before? Or had he wandered so far that he ended up in a new city? Everything seemed deserted like the other cities he had already been to, but maybe he was lucky here. He actually had to.
There was light there. With a groan, he reached out his hand for the doorknob. It took an effort to grip tight enough to turn it. But finally the door swung open. He triped into the room, and with him a torrent of snow. The heat of the room burned his skin. He stumbled forward and then sank to his knees with a groan. After all this time, his body seemed to be failing him for good. Was there a voice he heard? The crackling of a fireplace? Suddenly the smell of cinnamon and burning wood got in his nose. Someone came up to him and spoke to him. He found it difficult to lift his head, but then he looked into the dark-skinned face of a woman. Maybe mid thirties? He wasn't sure. A sense of knowledge seemed to spray from her eyes. As if she knew exactly what was happening. If she did, she knew more than he did.
"What's your name?"
When the words finally got through to him, he had to swallow.
"Ian."
"Welcome Ian. Come on, we'll sit by the fire and then we'll get you some warm soup to warm up."
He could only nod. Someone else came over to help the woman get him up. As he sank into the chair in front of the fireplace, he actually felt as if the cold was finally leaving its nasty fingers off him. He could only hope it really was.
"No guests for weeks and now this?"
Angelo switched the focus to his other foot so he could get a look at Zoye.
"And right now the boss isn't there", he added.
"I think we are quite capable of catering for a single guest."
Zoye had already tied her black hair in a braid and was now pushing the remaining strands into place with a wide forehead scarf. She had originally planned to go shopping, but the arrival of Ian threw those plans upside down. But that also meant that she had to cook in her everyday clothes. There was no time to change, so she had to be careful not to get her jeans and wide green shirt dirty. It was her favorite combination. And an apron wouldn't protect everything.
"If you think."
It was easy to see that Angelo was uncomfortable with the situation. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and repeatedly ran his tongue over the inside of his lip.
"Make the poor man something warm to drink. It is not his fault that you panic immediately, as soon as something like this happens. Death won't get you", Zoye replied with an admonishing tone.
Angelo made an annoyed grimace. It didn't go with his flawless appearance, with the lightly tanned skin, the half-length black hair that he wore gelled back and his narrow, round beard.
"Very well my lady. As the lady commands."
He threw a kitchen towel over his arm and bowed widely. It went perfectly with the black pants and white shirt.
"You can't just look like the barman. You have to do something for it."
Zoye smirked in amusement before turning around.
"I'll be right back with the soup", she said.
"Very well, dear lady."
"Idiot."
The door to the kitchen slammed behind her and Angelo took a deep breath. It was easy for her to talk. His gaze wandered to Ian, who was still sitting in front of the fire, shivering in his winter clothes. At least it was clear what had to be done. Soon the hissing of frothed milk penetrated the otherwise quiet room. If Ian was interested, he only showed it with micro-movements. Angelo poured the hot milk onto melted chocolate and began to mix everything together. He wanted to reach for the cream, but stopped at the last moment. He looked at the shelf behind him, then picked up one of the whiskeys. After he had filled the mug with a good sip, he topped it all off with a mountain of cream and a few chocolate sprinkles. He put the finished drink on the tray and carried both over to Ian.
"If you're freezing to death, I absolutely recommend this," he explained as he placed the mug on a small side table next to Ian.
Ian took his eyes off the fire and looked doubtful at his jacket pocket.
"I don't think I have any money."
Angelo shrugged.
"Not important. Only monsters would refuse to help someone in need. And it is not difficult to see that you need warmth in your bones."
A frustrated and sad laugh slipped from Ian.
"Really? So obviously?" He asked sarcastically.
"Just a tiny bit."
Ian studied the person opposite for a moment before leaning heavily forward and reaching for the cup.
"Thanks."
Angelo made a gesture like it wasn't to be thanked for and then returned to the bar.