CoR The Rusty Nail - Consequences

[Tiko]

Marcellus was seated in a chair at one of the empty tables. It was late - or early - depending on your perspective he supposed. It was past closing time, and no one remained except himself and Grisham still in the back.

The man was an idiot Marcellus thought to himself. He had brought the ire of the Bloodstone's down upon himself. Idiot or not though, Grisham had brought a change upon the place and Marcellus himself these past few days.

When Grisham had first walked through the doors of the Rusty Nail, the place was on its last legs. It was fading away, and no one would notice the last whisper of life before it was snuffed out. Grisham had brought the place a second chance. He had a determination to match his idiocy. Something Marcellus had once known, before...

Well, before it all ended. Still he had been comfortable with his new life, and took well to the role his father had always intended for him. Taking over his father's business when he passed had brought him a sense of purpose and contentment. Until that too faded. He couldn't really pin exactly when he had given up on the place. It had crept up on him so subtly that he didn't even notice at first.

When the Iron Jackals had turned up, he had rebuffed them without question. It was then that the realization struck him. He had turned them away because it was what was expected of him. A duty even. That's just how it was. An unspoken agreement between Lupaix, and the Bloodstones. But there had been no passion in him. No conviction. No fire.

The Iron Jackals had sense it. When the vandalism had started, there was no question in Marcellus as to who was behind it. He could have gone to the Bloodstones, but he had instead chose to weather it in silence. As dead inside as the Iron Nail had become.

And then there was Grisham. He had stirred old memories in Marcellus, and brought him out of his monotony. Hours after Ragenard had departed and the bar had closed up, he had remained. The quietness of the place had given him the peace to just... remember.

Deep beneath the blanket of weariness and apathy, he realized he did care. That care was a tentative thing though, kindled by the enthusiasm and determination Grisham had brought to the place. Would it remain if Grisham did not? He was unsure.

He sighed and waited. Only time would tell if Grisham would emerge. And how broken he would be if he did.

 

[Hollow glade]

At some point, probably from the drinking more than from the damage he had received, Grisham had passed out. When he woke up again and actually held on to consciousness, instead of using his drowsiness like a blanket to return to the bliss of unconsciousness, he just.. stayed there. In the dark. Maybe he should've stayed forever and become a permanent fixture for new workers to see, if there were any. He almost snorted at the thought. Here is the beer, here is the citrus mixer and here is a fucking idiot who bit more than he could chew. A curled up figure in the dark, whose only notable feature were his yellow eyes and that he growled if anyone under 30 stepped to close. But he couldn't actually do that, and he could tell Marcellus was still somewhere in the building. What for?, maybe to keep him from taking thirty more bottles and running off to never be seen again. Maybe to keep him from rotting in the back room if he actually died. They were still fighting the stench of piss, no need to add rotten corpse fragrance to the walls.

And so, a good while after the closing time, Grisham did come out. He looked about as good as he felt. His hair was a mess, his face was mostly healed but there were dried tear-tracks and leftover bruises. His clothes smelled like alcohol, since he had no doubt spilled some of what he had drank over himself. He might have a light headache later because of it, but at least he was no longer feeling drunk. Which made this worse. He always went through tremendous effort to maintain a level of drunkness that made the world tolerable, if not pleasant.

"What?" He rasped out when he saw his supposed boss just waiting there, sitting pretty. He knew he had been warned and did it anyway. But he didn't regret it even now. He had brought that giant of a man here, the jackals would think it over twice before they came to mess with them again. He fucking hated the world, and he felt like shit. He waited for Marcellus' response with his eyes fixed on him, tense and leaning against a wall for a bit of support. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. There had been no anger or sadness in his tone as he spoke , just stone cold apathy.

 

[Tiko]

"Heh," Marcellus grunted.

Well I'll be damned, he though.

"I wasn't sure if you would pull through," he added. "Whatever you drank is on the house."

He could smell the scent of the alcohol wafting off of Grisham's clothes, but he wasn't about to begrudge the man for drinking off his ordeal. There was some papers sitting on the table next to him, but they where face down and the contents obscured.

"I think this is where I'm supposed to say 'I told you so'. But I thought I would offer you an official job instead. If you still want it, and can leave well enough alone when I tell you to stay out of something."

The last bit had a firm edge to it. A new development to the man's otherwise apathetic indifference that had been present in most of their previous interactions.

 

[Hollow glade]

"What??" Grisham gasped, too quiet for Marcellus to hear. So it just looked like he opened his mouth a little and then closed it again. His eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief, and he walked over to the table. He almost said and asked a lot of things. Really? Are you sure? You know I'm a wolf right?. You might regret giving me free alcohol, he didn't know how many bottles he had drank but it had been a few. But he didn't say anything. Marc didn't joke around, he wouldn't with this either. And if he hadn't figured out that Grisham was a wolf by now, that was his problem. He put a hand in his pocket and crossed his fingers.

"Sure, boss. I'll do whatever you want." He grinned. And he planned to... During working hours. He wiped his hands on his shirt in case there were remains of anything and then grabbed the papers on the table. He read through them fast, very fast, but he was familiar with contracts. His heart was beating fast the entire time, until he got to the end having found no weird clauses or dirty tricks. Holy shit, what a moment to be lucid!.

" 'course I want it, I fuckin' love this job." He said, satisfied with the information. And very happy. This was kind of the perfect balance to his evening. Or night. He had no idea what time it was. He was also once again not regretting his shitty choices.

"We sign now then??" He looked around, because he hadn't seen a pen. But he hadn't looked at more than the papers and Marc, either.