As Ciri was about to take a sip from her lemonade the door opened. The young woman who entered the pub was dressed awfully fancy.
Ciri couldn’t help but stare at her, this outfit practically invited to do so.
It was an odd hour to visit a pub and far too early to be dressed like this. The woman was tall and her fair hair was very short.
Her long legs looked amazing in the shiny, tight trousers she was wearing and the fabric of her brightly coloured blouse looked very expensive.
She was wearing a lot of jewellery too and boots which reached over her knees.
Ciri decided not to think about how much this outfit must have cost as she hid her face behind the book she was reading.
She sat at the same table as always, it was her favourite pub after all, and she came by so often that the table was practically hers, that she nearly belonged to the inventory.
This small but comfortable room was where she felt at home and the people working here were like family to her.
Geralt, the owner, always knew what she wanted to drink before she had even opened her mouth and he treated her more like a daughter than like a customer.
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