[Lr] Week 338: Justified Qualms

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Beaks

Wacky Woohoo Pizza Sadness Man
Feb 16, 2008
2,113
12
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41✦
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Mornings in the Emerald Jewel had always been something Chase had come to appreciate over the years, and almost love in a strange sort of way. Merchants were opening storefronts and placing displays that intruded as carefully as possible into the walkways. Each one was designed to catch the eye and slow the steps of passersby in unique and different ways that all managed to be the same in their lines of thinking. The bright lettering and varied colors of each one clashed with the sparse architecture, another day of the Emerald's ongoing war between form and function.

It wasn't too crowded yet, as the early hours of the morning only brought out a few distinct types of people. There were people who had a set list and a deadline to get what they needed, of which Chase was certainly one. There were people who had convinced themselves at some point in life that jerking on doors that weren't properly opened yet yielded some kind of access to prices and stock that weren't available any other time, much to the annoyance and chagrin of merchants who might have been trying to enjoy a moment of peace before the day's chaos. The last were the people who gathered in small groups to walk in quick heel-toe motions before the walkways were filled with foot traffic. Despite their choice in career, Chase couldn't begin to understand that last group.

"It's not even like they're actually exercising. They just walk faster than other people..." The thought nagged idly as Chase headed towards what would hopefully be one of only two stops they would have to make in the Emerald. Cribbage flicked one eye towards one of the low-growing trees they passed, listening to the waking chatter of birds in the branches.

"Is that kind of pettiness helpful?"

"Is it pettiness on my part? They do that little heel-toe dance past you and sport that smug superior look on their faces, like you are a lesser person because you aren't like them. Or worse, they do all that and walk around you with a big 'humph' or a dramatic sigh, like how dare you get in their way." There was a thoughtful pause in the air between where Chase's words ended and Cribbage's began.

"I feel like we aren't just talking about the speed walkers anymore."

"Sorry." The apology was reflexive on Chase's part. The piles of disappointment from the previous few days had formed a veritable hillock riddled with niggling little doubts and second guesses that gleefully scampered and scurried in the runner's mind. The pug-nosed little familiar had gone through everything that Chase had, and wasn't taking it out on them. The least Chase could do was extend the same courtesy. "I'm sorry, Crib. I'm tired and angry and frustrated and-"

The thought was cut short as a small frog-like tongue snapped from the familiar's mouth to the runner's inner ear. Chase immediately clapped one hand over the opening, nearly swatting the creature from their shoulder in the process. The runner's steps came to a halt as they turned an irked expression to the creature.

"The past doesn't need you anymore. Your future still does." The little creature's croaking speech in Chase's mind was calm and measured, and telling signs that the runner needed to take the opportunity to refocus and center themselves... preferably before risking their life in the next few hours.

Chase lowered the protective hand and managed a defeated sigh. "Yeah, alright. You made your point. Happy?"

"Jubilant." Cribbage's tongue wiped a new layer of mucous across its eyes before retreating back into the mouth it had come from. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, guess so." Chase managed a wan smile before the pair started off towards the first shop.

The Crucible's Catch was a dour and ugly little place, devoid of any ornamentation or flair that so many shops around it had an excess of. Hard-forged tools and bars of metal clad in shades of gray and charcoal and black sat on displays that were very much the same in terms of color. A sign made of roughly brushed metal sat out in front of the entrance and bore a single word written in an uninspired hand.

'Open'

Chase stepped inside without a word, making a few cursory glances over some of the newer pieces for sale before stepping up to the counter. The man behind the counter was old, but Chase was unsure of his age. If he was fifty, he looked eighty. If he was eighty, he was a hard eighty. Lines of age and stress and dirt wove across his features like the lines of a topographical map, and his eyes bore a shade of slate to them that made his overall presentation somehow even more severe. The few hairs that still clung to the top of his scalp were white and untended, and each one danced in lazy lines from the anchor of his scalp.

The man's eyes were still focused on the book he was holding, reading silently and paying no mind to the potential customer that had entered. After a long moment that proved that he wasn't about to make the first move, Chase cleared their throat as quietly as possible.

"G-got an order, Os-car."

A grunt that was a mixture of age and annoyance was the only answer Chase received. The man snapped the book shut without any obvious marking of the page and held out a time and work-worn hand. Chase handed over the forgery, hoping that it was good enough and the old man was disinterested enough to make it work. That was one of the biggest draws to this place, after all. Oscar sold raw materials and simple metal goods that were reliable and affordable, and he didn't ask too many questions in the exchange. Or any, for that matter. Chase could count on one hand the number of conversations with Oscar that were longer than a few quick words about prices or products.

After presenting Oscar with the list, Chase waited wordlessly for the shopkeeper to object to it. The crag-faced old man looked at the list, to Chase, and finally to Cribbage. Oscar and the familiar seemed to stare at each other for a few silent moments, each one waiting for the other to yield. After a moment of stalemate Chase cleared their throat again and looked from the list to the old man, who turned annoyed eyes from Cribbage to the runner in a quick snap of movement. The runner said nothing, only raising two eyebrows in a gesture of 'well?"

Oscar grumbled to himself and walked to one side of the counter and thumbing through the ingots of metal, checking the shrinkage depths and knocking a few of them aside with heavy clinking and clattering noises. After throwing the half-dozen bars that passed the test onto the counter, the old man stepped past a hanging curtain into the back room.

"So far so good." Chase's words were quiet, even though they weren't being spoken aloud. "Could you not antagonize the old man?"

The pug-nosed little creature turned one eye to Chase, letting a croaking chuckle punctuate the act. "He's gone too long in life without anyone rattling his cage a little." Cribbage's two eyes blinked one at a time, letting a fresh layer of mucous cover them in the process.

Before Chase could debate the comment, the curtain moved again and Oscar reemerged into the store. Without ceremony he dropped three small and tightly bound bags onto the counter, as well as a bar of pale orange metal. Letting the list drop on top of the amassed items, it was the old man's turn to raise two expectant eyebrows.

Chase nodded mechanically, and pulled what looked like just enough coins from a pocket to pay. In truth, the runner had set the amount aside hours ago to prepare for this moment, but there was no need to let Oscar know that. After all, if the old man thought he had more money, he might try and raise the price. Chase didn't necessarily know why that thought had come to mind, but didn't make any effort to dismiss it. It wasn't like Oscar would have been the first to try and cheat Chase out of coin, but that was no substitute for a level of caution. The thought that the level of paranoia Chase was employing was a fleeting one, but that didn't make it any less worrisome.

The runner paid without complaint. Once the transaction was over Oscar pocketed the coin and went back to reading the roughly bound book, apparently remembering what page he had left off on. After loading the metal bars and bags into their satchel, Chase paused. In truth, the thought that Oscar would try and cheat them made the runner feel incredibly guilty. Chase had frequented the store often enough in the past, and Oscar had never failed to deliver exactly what was asked. After another moment of internal conflict, Chase began to speak in faltering words.

"O-oscar, I wanted to-"

The old man didn't so much as look up, but Chase felt the air change inside the little shop. With his squinting old eyes still fixed on the pages he was reading, Oscar reached up with a free hand to tap a small sign behind him. It was impossible that in all of the visits here that Chase had never seen it before, but now the runner couldn't help but follow the motion as the remainder of their words died in their throat.

Three small little words, each written in that same firm and humorless hand.

"Order. Pay. Leave."

"It would appear that he isn't concerned with your misplaced suspicion." Cribbage's words were a cutting croak in the runner's mind, and spurred Chase to shoulder the satchel and leave the shop without another word, spoken or otherwise.

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