“Two flagons of mead and an ale,” Anon announced, stopping at and placing the drinks on a table surrounded by a motley crew of creatures. “Just pay before you - No!”
The sound of a phlegmy cough and a sniffle told him who’d just wandered into the tavern, evoking his ire for the third time that evening. Wheeling around, spying Haggis shamble out from the kitchen, he glowered. In spite of her immeasurable constitution, indomitable strength, and an attitude that made even the hardest look soft in comparison, she’d fallen prey to something so trivial that he could scarcely believe it - the common cold.
“Don’t you - Achoo - no me again,” she slurred, leering over at him. “This is my bar and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit on my ass being useless.”
Her appearance wasn’t terribly surprising, given that it was the third time she’d disobeyed common sense and come down to supervise, but the silence that fell over the room was. Each and every creature seated went quiet as they looked over at her. It had been a few hours since her last appearance, shortly after he’d opened the tavern for the evening, so he was the only soul present who’d seen her that afternoon.
Wiping her snout on her foreleg, she drifted behind and leaned heavily against the bar. Her mane was disheveled, dark bags hung under her eyes, and she was none too steady on her hooves - in short, she looked like shit and it was painfully obvious that the last thing she should be doing is serving patrons. Seeing her fumble for a bottle, Anon slipped the serving tray he’d been carrying under his arm and rushed over to her.
“Haggis,” he whispered, coming to a halt by her side, “please go back upstairs and get some rest. For fuck’s sake, you’re -”
“Bah,” she grunted, shoving him away and almost knocking him off his feet. “I never missed a day in my life and I’m not about to start now. If I - Cough - could get through cockatrice pox and serve drinks, I can handle - Hack - this.”
Pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, he frowned. “You’ve got a fever…”
“And?” she spat.
“And a runny nose,” he observed, seeing a rivulet of mucus creeping from her nostrils.
“And?” she weakly growled.
He liked to consider himself a patient man, but enough was enough. “And you might get someone sick!”
Batting a hoof at him, she sneered. “Might - mights don’t count for much, lad - ‘sides, nopony here is worried about a cold.”
“Are you sure about that…” he muttered, letting the question hang.
All conversation had stopped and every eye in the room was on her, though she was either too hard headed or ill to care. While he saluted her work ethic, he couldn’t in good conscience let her work through the rest of the shift. Inching closer to her and resting a hand on her shoulder, he tried and failed to turn her to the door.
“I promise I’ll keep an eye on things,” he firmly stated. “Just please go get some rest and -”
“Soup!” one of the customers, an overweight griffon chirped. “The lass needs soup. Back when I was a chick, me mum used to make me soup when I was feeling under the weather.”
A unicorn mare who’d been sitting in the corner steadily got to her hooves and pulled back her cowl. “Some medicine couldn’t hurt either. If you’ll permit me, I’ll fetch a few herbs from my room at the inn and concoct a simple elixir to alleviate some of her symptoms.”
“Lad,” a small voice began, causing Anon to look toward his feet. Gathered around his ankles were a group of breezies with a caped one standing at their head. “Do you have enough firewood to keep the place warm? The last thing she needs is to get chilly.”
“I - um…” Anon hummed, glancing to the window. “I think we have enough for a day or two? I was going to chop some in -”
“We’re on it,” the fairy-like creature exclaimed. Turning to the rest of his kin, he flitted into the air. “You heard him!”
To Anon’s abject disbelief, patrons started unseating themselves - not all of them, but nearly a dozen. What had been conversations about the weather, the adventures they’d been on, or their woes shifted and unified to the best ways to treat common maladies. A small number of the creatures were residents of town, regulars who came by for a stiff drink and to socialize, though the overwhelming majority, as always, were those simply passing through - making the development nothing short of mystical.
Haggis’ scowl deepened as a number of her customers filed out. “Oi! You better pay for -”
“We’ll be back,” a kirin shot back, cutting her off. “I’ve got a spare blanket in my pack that I’ve been lugging around for months - as far as I’m concerned, you can have the thing.”
“I don’t need a bloody blanket, ya huddy,” she feebly protested.
Undeterred, the equine lifted a cloven hoof to the gratuitous fluff around his neck. “Do you have a kirin fleece blanket?” he inquired over the soft din of the tavern. Not getting a reply, he snorted and saw himself out. “Thought not…”
“Remind me to teach that one some manners if he shows back up,” Haggis snarled, ignorant to the snot running from her nose, “and - Hey!”
“What?” a massive dri quipped, stopping as she went to enter the kitchen. “Creatures ordered soup.”
“So what?” the ordinarily imposing mare wheezed. “You think you can just go into my kitchen and help yourself to -”
“No myself,” the yak quickly corrected. “Herd taught Sarlag to help when help needed. Sarlag will serve soup for sick pony.”
Presuming the shaggy beast’s name was Sarlag, Anon smiled. “Just don’t get any hair in it.”
“Will try,” the dri declared.
“You,” Haggis barked, breaking into a coughing fit as she drove a hoof to his chest. “I don’t know - Sniff - what sort of funny business you’re up to, but I don’t appreciate it.”
He threw his hands up in surrender, though his grin remained. “You think I planned this?”
“I could see one or two wanting to - Cough - do something to butter me up, but not the whole bloody tavern -” she griped, “that means somepony put ‘em up to it.”
Rubbing his temples and closing his eyes, he hung his head. “Haggis, I did not put them up to this. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you did pull me out of the snow when you found me ~ right?”
“Aye,” she flatly answered. “What of it?”
“This is the same damn thing,” he explained, waving over as the yak appeared with the entire cauldron of steaming stew hanging from one horn. “I hate to tell you this, but you look like shit. Anyone can tell you’re not feeling well.”
She pursed her lips and surveyed the suddenly lively tavern. “Doesn’t mean I have to sit around and be a good-for-nothing…”
“Listen, I’ll put it to you like this,” he whispered, bringing his face to her ear. “Either you march upstairs, get in bed, and trust me to keep this ship afloat or you stay down here being miserable and making a colossal ass of yourself - your call.”
Her expression wavered, if only for a moment, and she shifted uncomfortably. “You’re going to twist my leg on this ~ aren’t you?”
“If I have to, yeah,” he affirmed, withdrawing and crossing his arms over his chest. “If this really, truly ruffles your feathers, I’ll jot down who helped out with what so you can give them a discount or thank them later.”
It wasn’t like he was going to lord a moment of weakness over her, but damned if it wasn’t gratifying to see her cave under the pressure. Her shoulders went slack, she wiped her snout, and she knit her brow as she trudged past him. She’d bounce back to her normal surly self after a few days, interrupting brawls and flinging troublemakers through the door with the vim and vigor of a mare half her age, but that wouldn’t be until she’d recovered.
“Anon,” she called, looking over her shoulder at him, “a word.”
Following her into the kitchen, he stopped when she turned to face him. “Yeah?”
She looked past him and the swinging door at his back before her eyes settled on his face. “In all seriousness, did you tell them to do this?”
Pressing a palm to his bosom, he held up his free hand. “I swear I didn’t.”
A weary smile graced her lips, her eyes softened, and she sighed. “Just…just thank any of the useful ones for me…”
“I will,” he breathed, giving her a hug and a pat on the back. “Just go get yourself some rest ~ alright? If that unicorn comes back with some medicine or the griffon somehow scrounges up some soup for you, I’ll bring it up to you.”
“Heh,” she faintly laughed, wandering to the stairs. “Hope you know this means I’ll have to do the same for you if you fall out of sorts.”
Straightening up, he beamed over at her. “Wouldn’t have it any other way…”