Dennisen opened the door but didn't enter. Holding onto the knob, he addressed Panthonia inside:
"Hey, want to go up to the roof and get some air? It's stuffy in here. After what happened this morning, I could really use some fresh night air."
"You go ahead."
"That's no fun alone. Besides, you don't look like you've got anything pressing. Come on, I'll get some drinks, my treat."
"You know I don't drink."
"Then something else. Coffee, tea, your call. It's on me. Come on."
Panthonia wasn't exactly idle. He was drafting plans for an intelligence agency department as per Corne's request. But Dennisen had a point: the room was indeed stifling. Panthonia couldn't ignore the sour, musty smell permeating the air.
He gathered his papers and stood up.
A few minutes later, they sat on the rooftop of the small inn. Dennisen had not only brought drinks but also a small table and two chairs.
"I told the landlord we'd be working up here. No one else is allowed," Dennisen said, displaying a satisfied smile after his minor victory.
Clouds obscured part of the moon. Flocks of black birds flew from east to west, their wing flaps inaudible to those below. At the edge of their vision, beyond the low trees atop the hills, they could see the flicker of fires from Stormwind Watchtower. Despite the distance, it seemed even more prominent to the onlooker's eyes.
This was Goldshire. Earlier that morning, Panthonia and Dennisen had arrived here to apprehend a fugitive. The criminal had fled into a pig farm, and they had engaged in a battle amidst the ear-piercing squeals and foul odors. The diminutive culprit crawled through the pigsty, hoping to conceal himself; he flung a feed bucket, emptied of its contents, as his weapon when Dennisen approached. After the ordeal, Dennisen, with only his trouser cuffs soiled, wiped his face with the back of his hand in resignation.
"Why do I still smell something? I've been soaking for ages," he said, sniffing himself before taking a sip of the liquor. "Forget it."
"It's probably in your head," Panthonia remarked. "I don't detect any odors."
"That's because there's still some distance between us." Dennisen extended his left hand as if to measure something. "But I'll have plenty of chances to shower before I see her."
They fell silent for a moment. Dennisen held the cup in both hands, sliding his index finger along the rim. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he found himself downing a third of the bottle in a short time. Setting down the cup, he picked up the bottle and shook it, then held it aloft, tilting his head back to observe the distorted moon through the liquid.
"Five times."
"What?"
"I've postponed the wedding five times."
Dennisen set down the bottle and raised his right hand, splaying his fingers one by one.
"I sometimes wonder," Dennisen began, "why don't you leave me? How long are you willing to wait for me? But truthfully, I don't want to ask. I want to ask, yet I don't. Do you understand what I mean, mate?"
Panthonia remained silent.
"She's so patient. I truly love her. Without her, I'm nothing. It's true, utterly useless. I mean, have you ever seen a Bureau officer get drenched in pig feed? No one but me, right? Yet she still loves me. And I love her even more. I'd do anything for her, even kill... Though after that, I'd have to turn myself in, and then she couldn't be with me. She could leave me and marry someone else. That would be best for her... No... No, that's not right."
"You're drunk."
"I'm not. People always say they're not drunk when they are. But I really am not. I don't even know how I'm holding it together to tell her, 'My dear, it seems we can't... We'll have to reschedule... Five times! Five times. Five times..."
He took another large gulp of his drink.
"Hey, mate," he turned to Panthonia, "will you come to my wedding?" When Panthonia didn't immediately respond, he emphasized, "Will you?"
"Yes."
"I don't know if you mean it. Just take it as a yes." He turned his head forward again. "I'd be happy if you came. But I can't have you as my best man. I've got a cousin for that. But he's about to set sail... It's his job. I scheduled the wedding around the days he's not at sea. It's been too long. Panthonia, I... I've realized, there aren't many people receiving invites. I don't have many friends."
"That's the nature of our work. We can't make a spectacle of ourselves."
"No, no. You don't understand. I truly have no friends. Not now, not ever. Before I turned sixteen, I was so fat I could barely move. I was basically a thirty-year-old Polunius. It was this me who, on school questionnaires, put down 'Bureau Crime Investigator' as my ambition. Everyone teased and mocked me. They did this." He raised a wooden cup, then let it fall to the ground. "They'd throw my things on the floor and make me pick them up in front of everyone. They called it 'gathering evidence.' They'd make me 'investigate thefts' and 'catch robbers.' You can imagine what that entailed. Later, I exercised like mad, and at nineteen, finally passed the Bureau Academy's physical exam."
"You've done well."
"Have I? Do you think so too? You're my good partner. After finally leaving those good-for-nothing behind, I thought, who needs them! Dennisen, a new Dennisen, ready to start a new life, make new friends. From one perspective, I succeeded. I tried to engage in others' conversations, even if I didn't like it... I played cards with them every time, even if I didn't enjoy it. But there's one thing I can't change. I'm still clueless about women. Before I turned sixteen, I had only one thought about women: if they laughed around me, they were definitely making fun of me. I thought about them but was more afraid... You could never understand that feeling." He turned to Panthonia, his fingers trembling as he pointed at him repeatedly. "My first kiss... At fifteen, a girl who hardly spoke to me suddenly ran up, kissed my cheek, then ran back to her friends. Then they laughed. They were betting on something, I don't know what, but the girl lost the bet and had to do it. Yet... I was thrilled! Thrilled to bits! I thought, I don't care if she's making fun of me, I won't wash this face today! I'm going to sleep with this kiss. But that night before bed, I washed my face like a good boy, then cried."
He went on to recount how he met his first girlfriend, now his fiancée. He emphasized how awkward he was at first, how she was his beacon, savior, greatest fortune and happiness... He kept talking, regardless of whether his partner responded.
Panthonia didn't think sitting here listening to Dennisen ramble on was a meaningful endeavor. Yet he also found himself not intending to leave immediately. It was uncommon for something like this to happen to him—to be treated as a confidant. He didn't take pride in it because he always believed such drunken confessions were foolish. Sometimes, out of societal courtesy, he had to endure such foolishness.
—In the past, he was very firm in this belief. But now, he felt it might not be a waste of time after all.
"I envy you, truly," Dennisen said. "You've never failed at anything, at least not that I can remember. I really want to know how you became the person you are today. And as for women, that goes without saying. If I could be like you, having few friends wouldn't matter. There's a saying, 'A true success is like an eagle, flying alone high up in the sky, needing no one by its side.' I don't always think that saying is right, but it certainly applies to you. When I first heard we were going to be partners... Well, I was actually happy. Despite not liking your reputation, I thought, finally, I get to work with someone impressive. Looks like I can consider myself impressive too."
"You've done quite well. You haven't made too many mistakes."
"Sometimes I think maybe your way is really the right way. Maybe I'm just too rigid. And sometimes, I really want to fight you. But I'd never win. That night, being able to save you from the assassin's blade, I was just so proud of myself. I did something really great. By the way..." He looked at Panthonia. "You haven't thanked me yet."
"Thank you."
"No need to thank me." Dennisen emptied the bottle, then spoke into the opening. "Did you hear that? Panthonia Shawl thanks me for saving him! It's Panthonia Shawl!" He put down the bottle and continued. "Anyway... If you do become the leader of that intelligence agency, then we won't be able to work together anymore, right? I'll miss you. I... really wish we could be friends."
Panthonia remembered their last argument. Dennisen hadn't mentioned anything about becoming a leader back then.
"What do you know?"
"I have ears, I have a mouth, and I can inquire too. Word is... Koen is likely to recommend you as the first leader."
Panthonia wasn't inclined to say anything. It wasn't a good idea to discuss these matters with a drunken Dennisen.
"By then, you'll truly be that eagle soaring in the sky. And I'll still be down here, rolling and crawling. But that's okay. I'll marry her... have a son and a daughter... live happily. I don't ask for more... Why aren't you saying anything? I'm supporting you, mate. Show some support back."
"Nothing is set in stone," Panthonia stood up. "The alcohol's finished. You should go back to your room."
"You..." Dennisen looked up at Panthonia, slammed his right palm on the table, then pointed at him. "Sit down. I'm not done talking. Every time I'm about to trust you, you do something to make me change my mind. Today's no different. I still don't trust you, mate. You're lying to me... about a lot of things. Whether you killed Aretta or not, you have to give me an answer today. Or at least admit that you had a relationship with her and kept it from me while working on the case. You have to admit it. Otherwise, I..."
He was still drunk. But he knew what he was saying.