Churro

Eryn was grumpy.
Killing mind flayers, running around after intellect devourers, new dudes crashing out of the sky on comets, having to register his magical abilities with some stuffy magical order…it was all just too much. 
All he wanted was a churro.
It really doesn’t seem like that much to ask.
He sighed, adjusting the ruffles of his cloak in the mirror. He paused for the briefest moment, cocking a faint half-smile at his reflection. Then, on a whim, he tossed his chestnut hair and billowed his cloak, enjoying how the folds rippled and fluttered in the reflection despite the complete dearth of breeze in the still, squalid room where he slept.
Nailed it.
Satisfied, he clomped down the stairs into the bar area of the inn he and his friends owned, beaming at nothing in particular.
They said I’d never amount to much, but look at me now. I own a whole inn and this awesome cloak.
He billowed his cloak at Nyx as he passed her sitting at the bar. She didn’t even look up from the boring-looking book she was reading.
“Going to go spread some stupid all over town again?” She turned a page laconically for punctuation.
“I think you mean peace and goodwill, my dear lady,” Eryn responded with as much gregariousness lacquering the words as he could muster.
This did at least succeed in getting her to raise her eyes from the book long enough to roll them. Counting that a win, Eryn turned away smugly and found himself nose-to-balding spot with Flint.
Aw, shit.
“Where in the Hells do you think you’re off to?” Flint’s growl was as ill-tempered as ever. His gleaming plate armor sat beside the table from which he’d just risen with a polishing rag clutched in his calloused hand. 
Eryn sighed exasperatedly down at the grouchy dwarf. 
“I just want a churro. I’m going to walk to the market, buy one, and walk back. Can I get a break, please?”
Flint ran his hand over his ruddy face in annoyance, culminating with an agitated tug on his braided red beard. He seemed to be waging war internally, a struggle Eryn had watched play out countless times over the last year since their merry little quartet had set out from Naporia: “Do I let him leave and be happy with the silence, or keep him here to make me miserable to avoid him getting into trouble?”
Eryn was quite proud of himself for how patiently he waited. Finally, Flint came to the conclusion Eryn expected.
“Just…don’t do anything stupid, okay? Straight there, straight back.”
“Yes, Dad,” Eryn called breezily over his shoulder as he sauntered past. 
“You wish,” came the terse reply as Eryn let the door snap shut behind him.
I swear, they think I’m the biggest idiot alive. It’s just a churro. How much trouble could I possibly cause?
Eryn shook his head in bemusement and set off to the right, headed for the marketplace. He’d hardly made it fifteen paces when he heard voices and grunting from the alley next to the inn. Curiosity piqued, he stopped and turned his head to look. 
Flushed and sweaty, Arveen blew a strand of her long blonde hair out of her face. She was holding a plain shortsword at the ready, chest heaving, and her eyes kept darting to her shoulder. Noa stood very close to her, raising her left elbow slightly higher as he murmured things that Eryn couldn’t hear. The sunlight glinted off his glasses, and sweat was beading on his swarthy brow beneath his jet-black hair. Arveen mopped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. Eryn frowned, looking around.
Weird. It’s not that warm.
Eryn set off once more, pushing the scene from his mind.
I’m sure they’re just working really hard. She’s lucky. I need to get Noa to give me a few pointers, too. He’s so awesome.
His thoughts about Noa and Arveen were interrupted as a trio of small kids rushed right in front of him.
“‘Scuse us, Mistah!” one of them called over their shoulder. Eryn grinned and billowed his cape at their backs. 
As shops began appearing around him more frequently and foot traffic intensified, Eryn gracefully stepped between the bodies, occasionally smiling and nodding at those he passed. Something in the frenetic energy of this place made him feel alive. The chaos had a rhythm and flow that he could feel in his bones.
A commotion to his left caught Eryn’s attention. Two men were squabbling and shoving, and many people in the immediate vicinity hastened to vacate the area. Eryn stopped to watch. 
“You take tha’ back, ya skunk-bellied Kako!”
The sinewy fellow who was bellowing took a might swipe at the impish man with whom he seemed to have an issue. The spry, lithe fellow with the wispy mustache danced away from the much larger, slower opponent with ease, cackling.
“Whut? The part where I said yer mudder gots more ten’acles than a squiddy? Or when I said she used all dem grabbers to polish me ol’ jobby las’ nigh’?”
As he pranced just beyond the furious larger man’s grasp, the jester made a wanking motion with his hand and hooted lecherously. Eryn joined in with several onlookers and guffawed appreciatively. 
“I’ll kill yeh, you slack-jawed…”
The vast man took another furious swipe just as the spry, wispy guy danced right past where Eryn was standing. Losing his balance entirely, the hulking behemoth of a man tumbled right into Eryn, and they both clattered thunderously to the cobbled street. 
“Ha! Look at tha’, you louts! Anuvva Zhent in the dirt where ‘e belongs. Stay muddy, puddle roach!”
Eryn glanced up in time to see the Kakomati jokester melt away into the crowd. He pushed himself onto his knees and brushed the dirt and grime from his cloak, grinning despite himself.
“Think tha’s funny, do yeh?”
Eryn felt himself bodily yanked through the air until he was nose to nose with the craggy, dour countenance of the embarrassed man. From up close, Eryn realized he was missing several teeth, not to mention a chunk of his nose, and his breath smelled like stale lager. Feeling Flint’s shadow looming in his mind, Eryn bit off his prepared snappy retort and instead opted to respond with all the dignity and clarity possible.
“Not at all, good sir, please don’t kill me! I just want a churro!”
“Problem?”
Eryn and the Zhentarim bruiser both turned to look at the source of the interruption. There, standing with his indigo hands crammed into the pockets of his tight trousers, was Hélian. Eryn smiled, glad for the assist, and then cocked an eyebrow at the man with a tight grasp on the front of his tunic.
“Oh boy, you’re in trouble now. Star Guy is gonna fuck you up.”
It slipped out before he could help himself. He saw Hélian’s lips tighten slightly in a grimace, but otherwise, he stood his ground, as cool as the underside of a pillow.
“Tha’ righ’?” the Zhent sneered. He released Eryn’s collar and turned to face Hélian fully. “S’wrong witchur skin, elf? Been bayvin in blueberries?”
He laughed raucously, looking around as if encouraging others to join in. When none did, he reverted to his bad temper. 
“I’ve grown a bit weary of tiny li’l pissants telling me my business. Billy Baggs ain’t nobody’s bitch.” 
With this proclamation, he pounded his chest. Eryn winced on its behalf. 
“Judgin’ by the commotion, I’d say yer more like the punchline than the bitch,” Hélian drawled blithely. He might as well have been discussing the weather. His pearlescent, pupil-less white eyes seemed to bore into Billy Baggs’ soul. 
“Why you…” Billy Baggs started toward Hélian, but the spry elf was already moving. His eyes flared a blinding white as he stepped into a defensive crouch; his cut-in hair and shirt began to swirl and toss in a localized breeze, and his hands glowed with a radiance that made Eryn shield his eyes. Seeing such a naked display of power drew the Zhent up short.
“‘Choo playin’ at? Fight me like a man, elf!”
Hélian cocked his head to the side in mock puzzlement. “Why would I do that? Neither of us are men.”
This drew a sharp gasp from the crowd and more than a few whispers. Eryn couldn’t help himself and laughed aloud. 
“Best run on home to yer hovel, now,” Hélian said. “There’s a good little baby squid.” 
Billy Baggs snarled and gnashed his teeth. He seemed to teeter on the verge of action but then thought better of it and lumbered away, muttering darkly. In short order, the passersby returned to their mornings as Hélian approached Eryn.
“You all righ’?”
“Yeah, man, thanks. That was great.” Eryn chortled as he brushed the last dirt off the fringe of his cape.
“Why you pickin’ fights with the locals, man? Ain’t Flint got through to you yet?”
Eryn felt outraged at the injustice. 
“Me? I was just standing here minding my dang business! I just came for a churro. They were the ones fighting. They crashed into me!”
Hélian cocked an eyebrow at him. 
“Uh-huh. And right after you got a churro, you were gonna go find that sex goddess you claimed visited you in a dream, too, righ’?”
“Hey, she’s real! Even Noa said so!”
Hélian was already turning to walk away, waving his hand dismissively over his shoulder. “Sure, sure. See you back at the inn, lover boy.”
Thoroughly annoyed, Eryn stalked off in the direction of the churro stand. He billowed his cape furiously as he strode in a huff. After twenty paces and a few deep breaths, he found himself smiling again. The cape always put him in a good mood.
Finally, he rounded the familiar final curve in the cobbled, noisy street, and, there before him, rose the churro stand. It was a nondescript little building made of clapboard and other pieces of flotsam doubtless found along the beach in the harbor district, but Eryn was sure there was no more beautiful establishment in the city of Waterdeep.
Speaking of beautiful…
He stopped briefly and checked his reflection in a grimy shop window. He licked his palm and slicked back a flyaway strand of unruly hair, re-popped the collar of his cloak, and smoothed out his rumpled tunic. Then he took a deep, bracing breath.
Showtime.
He sauntered over to the counter and greeted the buxom shopkeeper, the secret second reason he enjoyed the churros here so much.
“Good morning, Meryn the Lovely, I hope the custom is…serving you…well this morn…ing…what’s going on?”
Eryn found himself frowning as he realized that she was closing up shop. She cocked an eyebrow lasciviously and leaned low over the counter, allowing her ample bosom to fall right into his line of sight.
“Well, well, if ain’t my favorite preh’eh li’l fancy pants! ‘Ow you, luv?”
Eryn swallowed, trying to keep his eyes elevated to her face.
“I’m okay. I’d be doing better if I was holding a churro right now, though.”
She laughed heartily, her breast bouncing as she did. “Oy, you’s a bit late, gorgeous. You know I run out early on Sa’urdays!”
Eryn sighed, laying his head down on his arms on the stand’s counter.
“Aw, come on, Meryn, I’ve had such a rough morning. This big drunk clod almost beat the crap out of me for no reason. Don’t you have any squirreled away anywhere? For me? Please?”
He grinned his most winning grin up at her and billowed his cape.
She raised her eyebrow conspiratorially and leaned in close to his face.
“I got a li’l batch at me ‘ouse. How’s about you come knock off my knickas, and then you can have some churros to knock off yours?”
Eryn swallowed hard, feeling his face redden. Meryn was the subject of many of his fantasies of late, to be sure, but she was at least ten years older than he was, and…
“Isn’t, uh…won’t your husband be there?”
She laughed dismissively, waving her hand. “Oh, ‘im? ‘E’ll be six cups deep by now, e’s not even there. Come on, luv!”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him along as they ran down the street. Eryn couldn’t help but marvel at his good fortune as he bounced along in her wake. 
I was just hoping for a churro today!
They arrived at her dingy but well-kept little house quickly. She threw open the door, pulled Eryn inside, and slammed the door behind him. The smell of fresh churros hit him at the same time as she did, her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips pressed firmly to his.
Okay, it’s been a while, but you can do this. Come on, Eryn, game face!
He couldn’t help but peek out of the corner of his eye. There on the counter was a small basket of churros. Almost as if they were waiting for him. He smiled as he returned her kiss with more vigor.
Suddenly, there was a crashing noise from the rear of the house. Eryn realized that it sounded like someone had kicked the back door open. A familiar voice thundered through the house.
“You lockin’ this door on me again, woman? I already told you, I ain’t nobody’s bitch!”
Meryn froze. Eryn froze. The cape froze. He looked down into her wide eyes.
“Meryn. Your last name isn’t Baggs, is it?”
“You have to get out of here, or he’ll kill us both!” she hissed at him in response.
She stepped forward a few paces into the living room, such as it was.
“Oy, Billy, thought you was drinkin’ wiv the boys!”
“Fuck them critters! Get in here and gimme some lovin’!”
Eryn didn’t stay to find out what happened next. He rushed to the counter, grabbed the churros, and jumped out an open window. He was around the corner and down the street in an instant. 
He munched happily on a churro as he passed the little patch of street where the fight occurred. A shopkeeper was sweeping up broken glass, and a couple of members of the City Watch were interviewing witnesses. He grinned as he polished off the churro and began on another, sauntering back towards the inn.
See? Piece of cake.