The smell of rain was heavy on the air drifting through the cobbler's open back window. He would have to move to close the shutters soon, but the scent of the approaching downfall intermingling with the hefty salty aroma of the sea air was more enjoyable than he had anticipated. A brisk, cool breeze was graciously welcomed anytime Jules was hunched over sewing a piece of smooth, delectable leather.

Sighing, Jules sat back on his stool, calloused hands setting aside his work. The first three buttons of his starched light grey shirt were open, sleeves rolled up over a pair of forearms ribboned with taut muscle. Aching fingers stretched, clenched, and stretched again; a gentle attempt at reinvigorating the blood and loosening the stiffening digits.

A knock at the door caused the cobbler's ears to perk and his jaw clench. He wasn't expecting any deliveries, and his brother had a key. After the last time Asa had misplaced a key to the shop, Jules was certain the youth wouldn't make that mistake again.

Only yesterday had the display sign designating the Everetts' shop as one housing a cordwainer and cobbler been placed. He supposed it wasn't too unusual that he'd already have a potential client. Even so, the knock set Jules's aching fingers trembling, and he plucked a small knife from his workbench, slipping it into his pocket before cracking open the door. 


"Aye," he gruffed, eyes scanning over the slight figure. "You've made it only seconds before the storm, it seems. Come on, then." He opened the wooden door a little wider and stepped back, just enough for the stranger to squeeze through. 

"What brings you my way?" he asked, voice pleasant but wary, noting the weight of the small knife sitting not-so-comfortably in his pocket.