09-01-2019, 10:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-01-2019, 10:20 PM by Jules Everett.)
“Gavin… Ireland,” Jules repeated, his left eyebrow raising slightly. He cleared his throat, turning away from the stranger slightly. He considered answering the odd man’s question about how and why he had ended up in Whitby, but it wasn’t a question he was ever too fond of answering.
“My younger brother and I relocated from a busy city,” he explained. A heavy leather-bound book filled with thick pages rested at the edge of his work table. “Started to feel a little rushed, you understand. I’ve heard sea air is good for the constitution. Visited once or twice, seemed as good a place as any to set up shop.” He smiled politely, plucking a fountain pen from its post and opening the book to its first page. It was completely empty. Taking his eyes away from the curious stranger, Jules scratched out the date, the client’s name, and a brief list of details about his request. Repair. Sinister/dexter. Approx. 2-3 days.
“You’re welcome to come back and drop them off anytime,” he confirmed, leaving the book open to allow the ink to dry. “My brother and I live above the workshop. One of us is typically here to welcome clients.” Assuming Asa isn’t out getting himself into trouble.
“I wouldn’t feel right, sending out back out in a storm like this,” Jules said. “Feel free to make use of the facilities, but you don’t need to be too quick to run along afterwards. How about I make us some tea? A little warmth to combat the storm’s chill, maybe.” A strong, muscled arm pointed casually toward the staircase. “Loo and stove are both upstairs. Follow me?”
Narrow wooden steps creaked with age as Jules began the quick climb to the upper floor. He could not explain why he felt compelled to offer the man a hot beverage while his gut tensed and squeezed beneath his abdominal muscles. The handle of the small hidden knife bounced against his thigh as he ascended the steps.
The living quarters were sparsely decorated. Two beds, a bureau, a half-filled bookshelf. Among these mediocre possessions, a long line of shoes of various sizes, colors, and styles decorated the edge of the wall. Shoes stretched from one wall to the other, then doubled back, stacked on top of one another. A small wood-burning stove, table, chairs, and a small collection of dishes and flatware were located against a far wall.
“Loo is over there,” said Jules, nodding towards a door at the north side of the room. “I’ll put the tea on. Try not to get lost.”
“My younger brother and I relocated from a busy city,” he explained. A heavy leather-bound book filled with thick pages rested at the edge of his work table. “Started to feel a little rushed, you understand. I’ve heard sea air is good for the constitution. Visited once or twice, seemed as good a place as any to set up shop.” He smiled politely, plucking a fountain pen from its post and opening the book to its first page. It was completely empty. Taking his eyes away from the curious stranger, Jules scratched out the date, the client’s name, and a brief list of details about his request. Repair. Sinister/dexter. Approx. 2-3 days.
“You’re welcome to come back and drop them off anytime,” he confirmed, leaving the book open to allow the ink to dry. “My brother and I live above the workshop. One of us is typically here to welcome clients.” Assuming Asa isn’t out getting himself into trouble.
“I wouldn’t feel right, sending out back out in a storm like this,” Jules said. “Feel free to make use of the facilities, but you don’t need to be too quick to run along afterwards. How about I make us some tea? A little warmth to combat the storm’s chill, maybe.” A strong, muscled arm pointed casually toward the staircase. “Loo and stove are both upstairs. Follow me?”
Narrow wooden steps creaked with age as Jules began the quick climb to the upper floor. He could not explain why he felt compelled to offer the man a hot beverage while his gut tensed and squeezed beneath his abdominal muscles. The handle of the small hidden knife bounced against his thigh as he ascended the steps.
The living quarters were sparsely decorated. Two beds, a bureau, a half-filled bookshelf. Among these mediocre possessions, a long line of shoes of various sizes, colors, and styles decorated the edge of the wall. Shoes stretched from one wall to the other, then doubled back, stacked on top of one another. A small wood-burning stove, table, chairs, and a small collection of dishes and flatware were located against a far wall.
“Loo is over there,” said Jules, nodding towards a door at the north side of the room. “I’ll put the tea on. Try not to get lost.”
