-This is a Song About Revenge CHAPTER 1B

Just now, as William sits down with the old stranger, two of the tavern’s patrons, likely regular customers, get to their feet and uneasily make their way out. One of them walks backwards, apparently fearful of keeping his back to his fellow drinkers, while his friend staggers ahead of him having trouble enough walking straight ahead.
It seems the old man is about to say something. Leaning in close, William is eager to hear what the stranger has to say, thinking that even if it’s just drunk rambling, there might be something useful in his words.
The drunkard moves his lips but stops short of making a sound, raises a finger up in the air, and excuses himself. “My manners,” he says, laughing while wobbling is head left and right- now takes off his tophat trying to appear gentlemanly.
The stranger’s hair is black curls, with some grey, and a dirty, god-awful sight. It induces William to wonder how the hat, now sitting on the table, could keep the hairy mess down that’s springing out from the old man’s head like a cluster of wild cauliflower.
Again, the stranger appears about to say something important but only grunts and gesticulates that he must first wet his lip as a precursor to any conversation. He now mumbles to himself, “mmmm… the devil’s nectar,” before taking a swig from the large wooden mug filled with a dark and muddy, lukewarm ale.
William grows impatient, visibly so.
The old man pays no mind and drinks, lowers his mug, “I saw him gunned down, I did,” he says, mater of fact like.
There is a pause. William adjusts himself in his seat not knowing at first how to respond. “You were there?” asks William suspiciously, expressing disbelief.
“I don't recall you being present, good sir,” the drunkard retorts, nearly unintelligible.
William confesses he wasn’t.
The old man now drinks again from his hefty mug, getting foam on his unkempt beard.
The stranger’s damp, yellow skin reflects what little light there is in the tavern, and makes William nauseous just by sight alone.
William looks away from the jaundiced man, surveying the environment, but mostly to avoid looking at the sickly man in front of him.
Most of the patrons are drinking and speaking amongst themselves, albeit more quieter than before. Being watchful, William notes the barkeep’s incessant cleaning, senses it stems from uneasiness in him. He tries to read in the barkeep’s eyes what it is exactly that’s bothering him.
Without warning, the stranger asks, “Perhaps you would be wanting to hear how it happened?” drawing William’s full attention.
William looks into the old drunkard’s eyes, sees noting but coals, and gives a sure nod, wanting to hear precisely how his brother was shot dead.