Casper lugs around his sack of ‘potatoes’. It’s at least twice as heavy as his little bag of gold, but he isn’t complaining. Being around this much money makes him lightheaded. He’s loaded and never has he felt so alive. Pity he has to hand it over when he gets back. Out of the small fortune he has in his hands, he’ll see only one pound of it. A pound is more money than he’s ever had, but, compared to the rest of it, it looks like a pittance. What’s worse, the sum is accounted for already, meaning if he squeaks so much as a penny-farthing more than he’s entitled to…
Balor was intimidating as is. Add on the fact that he’s a goddamn sorcerer of all things and Casper’s damn well sure he’ll listen to whatever he says. If Balor says he gets one pound, then he gets one pound. Nevermind how badly keeping his grubby mits off is chafing him, Casper has to grin and bear it.
He goes to the pub to soothe his woes. A hot meal does wonders for one’s mood and the company, although overbearing, is welcoming nonetheless. It’ll be a nice change from the rest of the day.
It’s well into the opening hour. Tables are filling up and idle chatter fills the air. Casper’s only been here on the off hours. They don’t let minors in here, but Alicia made the exception for him as long as he made himself scarce by opening time. His being here raises a more than a few eyebrows. The background noise skips a beat, then dully resumes as customers lose interest in him and turn their attention back to one another.
Alicia’s busy acting as waitress, taking customers’ orders and making small talk. The patrons seat themselves wherever they please. There’s a stout fellow manning the bar counter. He shares the same hair colour and freckled face as Alicia. Her Pa? Whoever he is, he’s not happy to see Casper here.
Casper sheepishly waves to him and approaches the counter. “I know I’m not supposed to be here an’ all, and I get that, I really do. I won’t ask for booze or nuthin’. I won’t cause no trouble. All I want is a bit of bread.”
The barkeep has misgivings. “We don’t give handouts to strangers around here. If you’re wanting grub, you’ll need to pay for it.”
“How much?” A pound’s more than enough to cover whatever cost the barkeep demands. Still, knowing the going rates is a must for any market.
The barkeep inclines his head. “Two pence.” It’s a bit steep as far as meals go. The barkeep’s testing him.
Casper doesn’t skip a beat. He’s known how to do business since he could walk. “Deal.”
“Woah now. I’ll have to see payment up front.” The barkeep holds his hand out over the counter.
Casper grimaces. It’s not that he intends to dine and dash; he’d prefer to maintain a good relationship with his main food source, thank you. And it’s not money he’s lacking either. He just can’t pull it out in front of everyone.
The barkeep isn’t surprised. “Yeah. Thought as much… Look, as much as I’d like to give you something, I can’t go giving handouts. You understand?”
“So, if I got the money, it’s no problem?”
The barkeep squints at him and gives a slow nod. “That’s the jist of it.”
Good. “Wait here a second.” Casper leaves the pub, walks a few blocks down the main road before ducking into an alleyway. He looks for any spectators; people were paying him too much for his liking earlier today. He’s still jittery. Better safe than sorry, especially when he’s got a small fortune to lose. He pulls out a pound note out of the burlap sack and stuffs it in his pocket. It’s not ideal, but Smith didn’t exactly give him small change.
Casper waits a few minutes, then exits the alley out its other end. He twists and turns down several side streets, getting himself and his imagined pursuers good and lost before finding himself deposited back on the main street. He reorients himself and homes in on the pub.
The patrons are quieter this time, the gentle ambience spoiled by Alicia and the barkeep having words over the bar counter. Casper doesn’t pick up more than a few stray words, just enough to gather that he was right about the barkeep being Alicia’s Pa.
He knocks on the counter and pulls out his pound note. “I got the money.”
The quarrel between the father-daughter pair ends abruptly, much like the row between Gerry and Alicia a few days ago. People may not like to air their dirty laundry, but this is ridiculous. Alicia gives her Pa a textbook example of an ‘I told you so’ look. Pa is none too impressed by her behavior. He takes the note from Casper, holds it up to the light, and frowns at it.
Shit. Is it a fake? Casper didn’t think to check, not that he’d be able to tell. He knows his coins leagues better than his notes since he’s never so much as held a note before.
Balor was intimidating as is. Add on the fact that he’s a goddamn sorcerer of all things and Casper’s damn well sure he’ll listen to whatever he says. If Balor says he gets one pound, then he gets one pound. Nevermind how badly keeping his grubby mits off is chafing him, Casper has to grin and bear it.
He goes to the pub to soothe his woes. A hot meal does wonders for one’s mood and the company, although overbearing, is welcoming nonetheless. It’ll be a nice change from the rest of the day.
It’s well into the opening hour. Tables are filling up and idle chatter fills the air. Casper’s only been here on the off hours. They don’t let minors in here, but Alicia made the exception for him as long as he made himself scarce by opening time. His being here raises a more than a few eyebrows. The background noise skips a beat, then dully resumes as customers lose interest in him and turn their attention back to one another.
Alicia’s busy acting as waitress, taking customers’ orders and making small talk. The patrons seat themselves wherever they please. There’s a stout fellow manning the bar counter. He shares the same hair colour and freckled face as Alicia. Her Pa? Whoever he is, he’s not happy to see Casper here.
Casper sheepishly waves to him and approaches the counter. “I know I’m not supposed to be here an’ all, and I get that, I really do. I won’t ask for booze or nuthin’. I won’t cause no trouble. All I want is a bit of bread.”
The barkeep has misgivings. “We don’t give handouts to strangers around here. If you’re wanting grub, you’ll need to pay for it.”
“How much?” A pound’s more than enough to cover whatever cost the barkeep demands. Still, knowing the going rates is a must for any market.
The barkeep inclines his head. “Two pence.” It’s a bit steep as far as meals go. The barkeep’s testing him.
Casper doesn’t skip a beat. He’s known how to do business since he could walk. “Deal.”
“Woah now. I’ll have to see payment up front.” The barkeep holds his hand out over the counter.
Casper grimaces. It’s not that he intends to dine and dash; he’d prefer to maintain a good relationship with his main food source, thank you. And it’s not money he’s lacking either. He just can’t pull it out in front of everyone.
The barkeep isn’t surprised. “Yeah. Thought as much… Look, as much as I’d like to give you something, I can’t go giving handouts. You understand?”
“So, if I got the money, it’s no problem?”
The barkeep squints at him and gives a slow nod. “That’s the jist of it.”
Good. “Wait here a second.” Casper leaves the pub, walks a few blocks down the main road before ducking into an alleyway. He looks for any spectators; people were paying him too much for his liking earlier today. He’s still jittery. Better safe than sorry, especially when he’s got a small fortune to lose. He pulls out a pound note out of the burlap sack and stuffs it in his pocket. It’s not ideal, but Smith didn’t exactly give him small change.
Casper waits a few minutes, then exits the alley out its other end. He twists and turns down several side streets, getting himself and his imagined pursuers good and lost before finding himself deposited back on the main street. He reorients himself and homes in on the pub.
The patrons are quieter this time, the gentle ambience spoiled by Alicia and the barkeep having words over the bar counter. Casper doesn’t pick up more than a few stray words, just enough to gather that he was right about the barkeep being Alicia’s Pa.
He knocks on the counter and pulls out his pound note. “I got the money.”
The quarrel between the father-daughter pair ends abruptly, much like the row between Gerry and Alicia a few days ago. People may not like to air their dirty laundry, but this is ridiculous. Alicia gives her Pa a textbook example of an ‘I told you so’ look. Pa is none too impressed by her behavior. He takes the note from Casper, holds it up to the light, and frowns at it.
Shit. Is it a fake? Casper didn’t think to check, not that he’d be able to tell. He knows his coins leagues better than his notes since he’s never so much as held a note before.
As it turns out the note is genuine (or Pa here doesn’t know how to tell a phony either). The issue is where and how Casper came across it. “I won’t take dirty money,” says Pa, “so you tell me where you got this or I won’t touch a penny of it.”
This is what Casper was afraid of. A pound is worth a whole lot of silver and several times more than a measly two pence. The natural conclusion as to where a gutter rat like him got the sum is that he stole it from somewhere. Good thing the long detour gave him plenty of time to fabricate an explanation. “It’s my pay for the month. I’m doing odd jobs, you see? I had to track the fellow who’s paying me to get that.” Casper nods at the bill in Pa’s hand. “‘S why I took so long.”
“And why a pound? That’s an awful lot for an odd-jobber. Why not a few pence?”
Alicia rolls her eyes and protests. “Give him a break, will you Pa? He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
Pa hold up a hand. Alicia stops talking, but she doesn’t like it. He turns back to Casper. “Well?”
Casper licks his lips. “How would I know why he gave what he did? All I asked for was a bit of forward pay and what he does is give me the note and say I’ll be owing him a month’s work.”
“And that’s all?”
Casper shrugs. “Pretty much. A pound’s a pound. I sure as hell ain’t gonna turn it down.”
Pa’s not happy, but most of his misgivings are gone. “I can’t give you change for this, mind you. I don’t have enough coins.”
“That’s alright. Put it on my tab.” Casper seats himself at the bar, leaving the sack on the floor next to him.
Pa raises an eyebrow. “You planning on becoming a regular?”
“If you’ll let me. Like you said, you don’t got the change for it and I never pass up a hot meal.”
Pa is wavering.
“Come on Pa. Please?” Says Alicia. “He’s a good kid at heart, I promise.”
Pa’s caught between the two of them. Alicia smiles oh so sweetly and Pa knows he’s sunk. He sighs. “You’ll make a bleeding heart of me yet Alicia.”
Alicia hugs her father. “Thank you Pa!”
“Alright, alright. That’s enough now. You got orders to take.” Pa clears his throat. As flustered as he is, he’s glad to see his girl happy.
Alicia gives him a mock salute, takes Casper’s order (“Whatever it is that smells so good.”), and flitts off.
Pa watches her go and sighs. He turns back to Casper. “If you’re going to be coming here from now on, we’ll need to set a few ground rules. One, no drink. You younguns don’t hold your liquor and I don’t take that kind of silliness from anyone if I don’t have to. Two, if I find out that bill’s rotten, I’m kicking you out of here post haste and permanently. Three, you leave your troubles at the door. If anyone comes knocking around for you, don’t count on finding a hidey hole in here. Alicia may be a bleeding heart, but I’m not going to stand by and watch her get into a pickle because of something you did. Do we understand each other?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die, sir, I won’t do nuthin’.” Casper mimes the appropriate actions and looks earnest. Pa gives him another onceover and is adequately satisfied by what he sees.
Alicia comes over to give Casper his meal. Today’s special is some kind of vegetable medley slow roasted with gravy, with a couple of slices of hearty rye on the side. Gerry may be a paranoid fool (and rightly so), but he knows his way around the kitchen.
Does everything here taste amazing? Yes. Yes it does.
Alicia tries to chat him up while he has his meal, but her Pa shoos her off again. Casper wonders what his angle is this time. Neither of them speak for awhile.
“The food’s not going anywhere kid. You don’t have to eat it all in one bite.”
Casper looks up at Pa. He swallows. “The food’s not going nowhere, but I got places to be.” He checks the window. Sunset’s an hour away. “I’m running late as is.” He redoubles his speed.
“Is that right? Where’s it you got to be?”
Casper holds up a finger. Pa waits. “I got a delivery to do, then it’s back to the house for me.”
“A delivery for who?”
Casper gives Pa a measured stare. Nosy fellow, isn’t he? It's no mystery where Alicia gets it from. “How should I know? I’ve been here barely a week. It’s a miracle I know anyone’s name.”
“If you’re having troubles finding the place, I might be able to help. All I’d need is a name and I can point you in the right direction.” His concern seems so genuine. How flattering. He’s much better at this game than his daughter.
Casper finishes off the plate and waves the offer off. “I appreciate it and all, but I know where I’m going. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” He gets up, grabs his bag, and heads for the door.
Pa calls after him. “You keep your nose clean, you hear?”
Casper smiles at him, sweet as arsenic. “Don’t you worry about little ol’ me, you got problems of your own to take care of. Thanks for the meal and see you tomorrow!” The door shuts before Pa can get a word in edgeways.
Unfortunately, Casper was right about being late. He arrives at the manor about a quarter hour later than he’s supposed to. It’s not too bad as far as tardiness goes, but it’s not ideal for a first day on the job. Balor is waiting for him at the front door, arms crossed and looking cross. Casper can’t snake his way out of this one.
“You are late.” Thank you, Balor, for stating the obvious.
Casper huffs. “I wouldn’t’ve took so long if someone gave me directions before I left.”
“I stated very clearly that you were to deliver the package and its contents to Joe Smith. Given your apparent success, I assume you did not meet with any great obstacles in spite of what you claim.” Balor motions to Casper to hand over the sack.
Casper gratefully obliges. “Yeah, I did it, but no thanks to you.” He scowls at Balor. The way he’s holding the unwieldy bag makes it look like it’s full of feathers. (How is he doing that?) “You didn’t tell me anything ‘cept a name. I didn’t know who he is or where to find him and had to spend the better part of the day looking for him. And that’s why I’m late.”
“Ah. Is that so? In that case, you have my apologies. I shall ensure I do not repeat my mistake from this morning. And Casper? If there is anything at all about you instructions that are unclear, please ask for clarification.”
“I wouldn’t have it another way.”
What little of the day that is left passes uneventfully. Casper turns down Balor’s offering of another pound note, saying he already spent his share. That raises an eyebrow from Balor, but he doesn’t press the issue. Casper retires to one of the bedrooms he’s left intact, closes the window, and tucks himself in for the night.
END OF DAY FIVE.
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