It was just a little slice here. A little slice there.
The black leather bag she'd found was quite the treasure box. How beautifully the surgeon's scalpel cut through the layer of flesh, the insides bubbling over and painting the surface with color. She'd payed special attention to the medical books she'd borrowed to learn to properly use her newly found tools, and the lessons were certainly paying off. With each turn of her wrist, she guided the blade across her little masterpiece with precision, making sure every cut count. The inch of blade dipped inside of the crevice she'd cut, wetting the blade. A smile played along her lips as the knife cut so smoothly, easily, making this art her own. When at last she was done, she studied the cuts. Oh, she was getting better at this...
The meatpie crust was prepared!
"You're spending an awful lot of time on these, Miss Anna. Is...that a scalpel?"
Jarel was looking at his assistant strangely, finding a peculiar light in her eyes as she studied the little piece of "art" she'd created. It was just a crust. Snagging the pie from her, he popped it into the refrigeration unit, where the meatpie would be frozen in little more than an hour. The young woman tossed a tendril of hair away from her cheek and sighed, rolling out another bit of dough upon the bartop. It was early on in the morning, and not a drunkard was in sight. Her fingers white and powdery, she patted the dough down and rolled it out until it was thin.
"I am thinking of becoming a surgeon, Mr. Jarel." It was a blatant lie, of course, for she had other plans with her newfound treasures. The bartender believed every word.
"Ah, so a more permanent career, eh? Sounds like a good step. Not thinking of leaving the Lamb, are you dear?"
"No. Not quite." Her words were short but clear, all of her concentration on the meatpie as she set the thin layer of dough inside of the dish. While the meat of varying species was placed inside, she ladled hot gravy atop, and then folded the thin pastry over the top.
"Good. You know with those taxes you'd need the extra coin," Jarel was grinning ear to ear, but his assistant did not see it, much too concentrated on her work. "Should be sleeping, little chef."
"I will sleep when I must." The sharp scalpel catching the lamp light, it glinted as she cut the excess dough from the rest of the pie. Careful as the last one, she cut around with even, smooth strokes. She finally tuned in to the sound of Jarel's voice and his batch of hearsay and rumor he'd received for the week.
"...bet it'll be quite a big funeral. Think she might've eaten here a few times, hmm, lovely company, that Miss Hollowdrake. That masked fellow was about with a pretty thing earlier in the week, did I tell you that? Haha, I can only hope the gent comes back. He just drops his coin down like its nothing!"
"...mhmm..." Anisse murmured, now slicing into the top of the unbaked pastry. She was careful now not to cut too deeply, lest the batch of meat and gravy spill over too much over the top of the dough.
"They're all still going on about Goldshire, like it's something new to find a dead body in a room. I've heard the Innkeep's actually charging extra to people wanting to sleep in the room. Ridiculous, eh?"
Now this, these words did get her attention. Glancing up at Jarel, her fingers squeezed around tight to the metal of the scalpel, now made warm by her grip. "I thought...I heard the room had caught on fire?" Her words almost caught in her throat, talking about the scene.
"Yeah, me too. Apparently it was just the bed...some curtains. They replaced it right quick and went on with business. People have been claiming to see everything from ghosts to demons in the room. Haha, give it time, and they'll be digging through the floorboards to find Mor'Ladim's treasure in there!"
Anisse gave a half-smile, letting her eyes blink back down to the meatpie at hand. At least she didn't have to worry about the room anymore. With a last look of the last meatpie, Anisse handed the entree to Jarel gently, and cleaned her scalpel under the faucet until it was once again shining perfection. Tucking it in with the array of other surgical tools she'd not yet used, she shut the leather bag and strapped it around her shoulder. When Jarel saw that she was striding to the door, the bartender shook his head.
"Heading out at this hour? Girl, don't you ever sleep? Whatever are you going to do out there?"
Pausing before exiting the Lamb, Anisse tucked her cowl back up over her head. A shadow of a smile quirked her lips, her hand pressed against the bag at her hip.
"Me? I'm going to practice."
