Closing Time

Grim passed the crude "help wanted" sign and into The Pub.

She didn't care how much it payed or what the hours were. She just needed something to do. And she needed it now.

Wandering around Aenied as long as she had, though it hadn't really been that long, she desided something like a job would keep her boredom at bay. A bar would provide something to talk about, a mix of locals who probably knew about something to do, and a little extra change to jingle in her pocket. She could probably meet some new people, too.

The place was quiet, for the most part. Not many customers were coming in, and most were finishing up. It was dim in the rickety building, the low ceiling and shuttered windows making more shadows than the waxy candles could light.

Gliding up to the front counter where a bury, sweaty, beefy man was cleaning a mug with a towel. He eyed her up and down, a stumpy, foul-smelling cigar hanging out of a corner of his mouth.

"I saw you might want some help around here." Leaning against the counter, hands on opposite elbows, Grim leaned her head to the right a little, her hair falling over her ear.

"I won't hire your kind." More of a growl than spoken words. Some of the glowing embers fell off the man's smolderingly gross habit.

Why do I hate you people? Oh, that's right, because you SUCK. "I'd do any job that needs doing, sir. I'd really like this job. I'd work quick but I'd do it right, and I promise I wouldn't be much of a nusance. Do you still have any possisions open for some one?"

"I said, I won't hire your kind. Shove off." The man turned, put the mug back, picked up a new one, and started wiping it down.

"Sir-"

"Just give her a goddamn job, damnit." A highpitched voice behind Grim. She turned, seeing a short but stout potato of a woman working her way up the the bar.

"M'name's Joleen. Overheard you want a job? I need a dishwasher in the back."

Grim fumbled with her tongue for a moment before saying, "I'll take it."

"Good. Follow me."

As the woman trotted through a door into the back of the building, the man at the bar sneered, "Watch your heart. There'll be a stake in it soon." before Grim wised up and glided after her.

"My name's Grim, by the way." Catching up with the woman in a kitchen made up of a stove, a long counter covered in powders and damp, the woman turned with a cocked eyebrow. "Grim, eh? 'trestin'. Jaaamess!!!! James, I got someone new who you wanna meet!! JAMES!!!"

The volume of the woman's voice astounded Grim. Such a small thing, such a loud noise. Piccalos....

A taller, young boy rounded a corner. His hair was brown and cut short to his head, a scar going across his scalp from ear to ear. His clothes were gray and tattered, loose on his toothpick body.

"James, this is, ah... Grim, yes? Grim. She's gonna wash dishes now. Where's Dane?" Grim and the boy James shook hands. The jerk of his body made her lips twitch up as her icey hand slid into his warm one.

"Dane is, uh, Dane's making himself dinner. I think, uh, I think mine's done now -- do you want some, Mum? Gr...Grim? Potato stew?"

Grim mumbled a "No thanks." as Joleen took her arm and steered her towards an enourmous sink piled to Grim's nose with dishes.

"Go ahead and get started. I'll check on you in about twenty minutes. The boys will be around, don't be shy, if you need anything, ask them, don't mind Paol, he's just dense." With a smile and a wave, Joleen turned and trotted off and out of the kitchen. Turning around while rolling up her sleeves, Grim nodded.

Hot damn.