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Post by Klara on May 21, 2021 2:52:50 GMT
The inn was dark; all the guests had been shipped off to bed, some of them half-dragged up to their rooms to get them out of the way once the Hanged Man's men had alerted the Darrows to his imminent arrival. The place stunk of spilled ale and urine, as always, no matter how hard Klara scrubbed the stone floors on her hands and knees. The smell had soaked into the cheap binding between them and would never come out.
She wiped the counters and tables quickly with a dishrag, darting out of the way of her pseudo-parents as they hurried around trying to cobble together a plan.
"How much were you able to scrounge up?"
"No' even half."
They argued over her head as she worked, and she did her best to ignore them. She couldn't make out their words as they bent their lice-ridden heads together to plot, but the way Mrs. Darrow kept looking at her made her nervous. She tossed the rag back into the bucket as she made for the stairs, trying to escape before the man they were so frightened of arrived.
She was on the first step when Mr. Darrow grabbed her by her hair and yanked her backward. She yelped as he dragged her over to one of the tables and half tossed her into a chair.
"You're not hiding away this time, girl. You're in this as deep as we are."
Her brows knit, making it clear she disagreed, but she knew better than to open her mouth--the cut on her cheekbone from the last time she'd backtalked him was still healing. He sneered down at her before turning to his wife.
"How long do we have?"
The missus opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the door creaking open. Mr. Darrow scurried towards the tall man who came in, looking as if he were ready to drop to the ground and kiss his guest's feet.
"Welcome, welcome to the Sixpence Inn. It's an honor to have you here. Can I get you anything?"
The next man, despite being the size of a house, slipped smoothly past his leader and into Darrow's space, forcing him back towards the center of the room.
Missus scuttled towards him, grabbing Klara by the shoulder and dragging her along with her. The woman's long fingernails dug into Klara's skin, barely softened by the threadbare sleeves of her shirt. The two women came to a stop behind Mr. Darrow, ostensibly for support, but it looked rather like they were hiding behind him. The cowardly cheat did his best to look humble and sorry, hanging his head and wringing his hands in hopes of earning some pity.
The larger man grunted and stepped neatly aside and looked to the thin man expectantly. The three Darrows did the same.
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Post by Calvin Dietrich on May 21, 2021 4:00:23 GMT
Are you, are you...Coming to the tree….
They strung up a man, They say who murdered three…
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be,
If we met at midnight..
In the hanging tree…
The devil had come to the Darrows door. The only sound was the slight clunk...clunk… clunk… of a cane as he came to the door of the Sixpence inn. Both Silas and Flynn were with him. Behemoths in their own right, as Calvin Dietrich opened the inn door, before pushing it open the rest of the way with his cane. Shrewd, blue eyes flickered around the piss pour excuse of a living establishment. His nose taking great offense to the smell of...well piss and booze.
His upper lip twitched in disgust as he made his way in further. A slight limp in the way he walked, with using his cane as support. Silas quickly intersected Mr. Darrow from getting closer, while Flynn stood guard outside the door. He hoped this wouldn’t take too long.
They’d run out of time. The Hanged Man had lost his patience, and judgment day had arrived for the Darrows. Evident by the hanged man tarot card they’d received that had been put in reverse. Calvin’s job was to “act” as the Hanged Man’s right hand in all serious matters. A very private man who let those he explicitly trusted, run his affairs. Little did anyone know, the Hanged Man himself was hidden among their ranks…
Calvin let his eyes flicker lazily over to the women. Seeing Mrs. Darrow practically drag a young girl along with her, that looked worse for ware, but Calvin certainly noticed the mark on her cheek, before he gave his attention back to the two he really wanted to speak to.
He had a wide stance, resting both hands on the pommel of his cane. A gift from the hanged man himself that depicted a coiled rope that slowly went up and wrapped itself around a skull. Winding it’s way through the skull’s mouth and one of the sockets, looking almost snake-like, if it wasn’t for the noose it made around the skull's non-existent neck. It looked to be made of white ivory, or white maple. No one had gotten close enough to find out what the real material was.
He was dressed neatly. Black doublet, white buttoned shirt, black cravat, long black coat, and perched on his head at a slight angle was a flat top hat. Calvin wasn’t a particularly handsome man. In fact, at first glance he looked rather average. Not someone you’d take a second look at, in being the second most powerful man to run, The Gallows. The club owned by the Hanged man himself. He had sharp, almost unhealthily sunken cheeks, sharp, bright blue eyes, and a perpetually permanent scowl or look of displeasure on his face. His lips naturally created a slight, almost pursed look, giving Calvin a constant look of disapproval.
Calvin looked bored, as he took in the Darrows, narrowing his eyes at them. “I don’t have to explain why I’m here, correct Mr. Darrow?” Calvin asked. His voice was surprisingly calm as he studied the man. His gaze soon going to his wife and what he could only assume was their daughter only she didn’t look like either parent,, before they flickered back to the man. “I’m going to cut straight to the chase, as I don’t want to waste…” He trailed off, tilting his head slightly in contemplation. “...You’re time.” There was the briefest hint of a smile, and spark of something in those icy blue eyes. Making it clear it wasn’t the Darrow’s time that was going to be wasted. “The Hanged Man’s lost his patience. I’m here to collect. So let’s make this simple, hmm?” He said with a small sigh, rocking forward slightly as he leaned forward on his cane, before rocking back again. He re-adjusted his grip on the pommel of his cane. “Give me the money you owe, and Mr. O’Neal, and Mr. Drake will be out of your hair.” Calvin said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.
It really was quite simple. He merely wanted to be paid, and once he had his payment...he’d leave them be.
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Post by Klara on May 21, 2021 4:20:04 GMT
Klara watched warily as the thinner man stepped forward, clearly the one in charge. She'd have known it even if he'd come alone; his aura had overtaken the room on its own as he stepped towards them. The Darrows cowered. Klara kept her back as straight as she could with the shorter woman still clutching her arm. “I don’t have to explain why I’m here, correct Mr. Darrow?” The man's voice was as cold as his gaze, and goosebumps spread across Klara's arms as if he'd chilled the whole room. Darrow nodded rapidly, eager to appear agreeable. "I’m going to cut straight to the chase, as I don’t want to waste…” He trailed off, tilting his head slightly in contemplation. “...Your time.” If the situation weren't so poor, Klara might have laughed at that little lie. “The Hanged Man’s lost his patience. I’m here to collect. So let’s make this simple, hmm?” He said with a small sigh, rocking forward slightly as he leaned forward on his cane, before rocking back again. He re-adjusted his grip on the pommel of his cane. “Give me the money you owe, and Mr. O’Neal, and Mr. Drake will be out of your hair.” Mr. Darrow swallowed hard before speaking. "I must apologize, Sir, we weren't able to gather the necessary funds for your payment. Our inn has been doing poorly, and despite our best efforts--"Missus kicked him in the back of the shin. "What my husband means to say, is we wanted to offer you a different kind of payment, she interjected, pushing past her husband and pulling Klara along with her. "We can't pay you in money, but we can offer you the girl. She's only twenty-four and she speaks English and Russian--"Klara's head whipped toward her, eyes wide. They were offering her? To a loan shark? Missus gave her a warning look before plastering a smile onto her face and continuing her sales pitch. Her nails dug harder into Klara's arm. "--she cooks and cleans and could starch those lovely suits of yours, mister. I'm sure she'd be paying for herself in no time at all. If you don't want her yourself, I'll bet you have someplace you could put her to work." "You can't!" Klara hissed, trying to protest. Missus shook her, hard. "Shut your whore mouth. You aren't even blood. We'll do what we must, and so will you," Missus hissed back before turning back to the man with that sickening smile once more. "What do you think? Would she cover the debt?"
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Post by Calvin Dietrich on May 21, 2021 4:46:20 GMT
Vin had meant it when he said the Hanged Man had lost his patience with the Darrows. He’d loaned them money when at the time it seemed like he could profit off an Inn, but they proved to lack the appropriate drive and care that an Inn needed. He’d loaned them the money to try and save it. Promise after promise and they’d broken it. And now…
His hand was tightening on the cane, every moment Darrow spoke. It wasn’t until his wife spoke, that the first, real emotion that crossed his face. The surprise was clear, and did a slight double take. Was he hearing correctly? They wanted to give him their daughter? As payment? He waited several beats before the surprise washed away to a blank expression. Calvin’s eyes slowly considering the girl as her “mother” continued her sales pitch. It was clear the girl wasn’t thrilled with the idea. Calvin wouldn’t be either. Infact, he hadn’t been thrilled. He’d gone so far as to beg.
Mrs. Darrows voice was making him sicker by the moment, and he felt his blood begin to boil. He kept his calm composure however. He seriously considered the woman. They could always use extra hands at the Gallows. Everyone that was employed by the Hanged man was treated fairly. Even Vin, who despite keeping to himself, ate and drank with the men, just like anyone else. There was no favorites.
Not in the Gallows.
She might have spoke only to the girl, but Vin still caught what the woman said to her. She wasn’t blood. Not even her own daughter, and she was throwing her to the wolves. He didn’t think long on the decision. The moment Mrs. Darrows had offered her adopted child up, Calvins decision was made.
Vin took a slow breath, and actually smiled at the woman. “She, and whatever money you do have. Should buy you another six months.” Calvin told them. Making it clear that the debt would still need to be paid, but that this was merely something to appease the Hanged man in the meantime.
“What’s your name, Girl?” He asked the younger woman. For a moment a kinder look crossed over Calvin’s face as he considered her. He waited for a response, before he slowly nodded. “Silas, If you will be so kind to accompany Mr. Darrow to get our money.” He instructed the giant of a man at his side. Silas merely moved toward Mr. Darrow in response to the request. Showing that they weren’t going to wait around much longer.
In the meantime, Calvin put all of his weight on his good leg while he tucked his cane under and arm and started to remove his jacket. He hung it over an arm, and started to roll up his shirt sleeves. Revealing a tattoo on his left forearm that looked like the Hanged Man’s Tarot Card.
“If there is anything of importance to you, I suggest retrieving it now.” He told the young woman, his eyes flickering over to her while he lowered his cane down and leaned against it, while holding his jacket with his other arm.
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Post by Klara on May 21, 2021 18:01:02 GMT
The Darrows breathed a clear sigh of relief as the tension drained from their bodies. "Thank you sir, you won't regret this.""You're very generous."Klara didn't move. She stood there, numb, staring at the skull at the top of the stranger's cane. She'd just been bartered like livestock, chattel. She'd always known she was as good as a slave, here, but for them to go this far in treating her that way… She could hardly process what was happening. Her head jerked upwards when the man addressed her, and she hesitated for a moment before she replied. The way he spoke to her...it was different. Perhaps he didn't blame her for the Darrows' behavior. It had to be clear she wasn't a willing participant--she wasn't trying to cover it up, by any means. "Klara, sir," she finally answered in a voice that sounded more certain than she felt. Before this, she might have introduced herself as Klara Darrow...but clearly that wasn't the case. She had no family and no family name. He nodded and went right back to business. The couple let the guard shepherd them away to the bar to get the till box where they'd gathered up what they had. Klara was left standing alone in the center of the room. The space between her and the others seemed to stretch, vast and uncrossable. It was a reminder of the truth: she'd been alone in this life since the day her mother had died upstairs in room four. The thin man's movements caught her eye, and she watched him apprehensively as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. She recognized the tattoo on his arm--it was exactly like the card that had sent Darrow and Missus into such a fit. She knew it was the symbol for their gang, but something about this was setting off warning bells in the back of her mind. Something was happening here, and it wasn't just a deal. “If there is anything of importance to you, I suggest retrieving it now.” Klara only shook her head. There wasn't anything she had of her own anymore save for some other threadbare dresses. They weren't worth taking. Anything she'd ever had worth taking had already been taken from her by Missus. No books, no dolls or toys. She'd never owned a piece of jewelry in her life. Was she even worth taking? Why had he accepted her as payment, anyway? She didn't know what to expect from this one. The usual customers around here goaded and groped her, or ordered her around. The Darrows were the same. This one… He'd essentially just purchased her life, but he was treating it like she was going to be his guest, asking her if she had things she needed to pack. Behind her, Darrow got the box opened and passed it to Silas. "Th-This is everything," He explained, hands and voice shaking. Klara's eyes narrowed slightly. Everything...except the stash he kept in the cigar box in his desk. She kept her mouth shut, but looked to the tall man and shook her head almost imperceptibly.
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Post by Calvin Dietrich on May 21, 2021 18:47:04 GMT
Pity. Though he didn’t show it, the way the young woman shook her head that there was nothing of importance to her, other then probably the dress on her back, stirred an overprotective need in Vin. Probably due to the fact he’d been in such a similar situation, though he’d been a boy. He’d wished they’d let him get whatever was important to him before they grabbed his arm, and hauled him away. The last things of his mother left behind to no doubt be pawned off. Save for what he wore around his neck and never took off.
He was offering this girl a kindness he might not have offered to someone else. Unlike Randal Smith, The Hanged Man was large on partnerships with his men. Everyone getting a fair cut. He didn’t rule with fear like Smith did. Of course, that didn’t mean the Hanged Man couldn’t be terrifying when he needed to be. There was a reason why the Darrows, and others got nervous when they received his calling card.
His eyes flickered from the tall, thin woman, to the Darrows. Watching as Silas took the till from Mr. Darrow. Silas stood unmoving, staring at Mr. Darrow with a blank expression. Waiting. Like the attack dog he essentially was, for his orders. Vin caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A slight head shake from Klara, and from what he could see she was looking at him. It would of course be too easy to assume Darrow would hand over everything. After all, he’d really strung out the Hanged Man’s patience to get his money back.
Rule one of the crime world: Assume you’re being lied too until proven otherwise.
“Mr. Drake.” Vin spoke coolly. A simple call of the name, before Vin averted his blue eyes, looking at Klara. In the next second, Silas took the till and holding onto one end of it with one hand, slapped it across Mr. Darrow’s face with a sickening crunch. Silas then turned and brought the till towards Vin, holding it for him, while Vin stared to open it. “Miss Klara, will you get the rest of what the Darrows owe us, please?” He said almost cheerfully as he started to reorganize the contents of the till box.
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Post by Klara on May 21, 2021 19:03:53 GMT
Klara's brows flickered downward as the man turned to her, not understanding until she heard the tin till box crunch against Darrow's face. She kept her spine straight and her lips pressed into a firm line, though a small flinch was visible in a tightening around her eyes. She felt little pity for Darrow; the man had likely done as much to her more than once. It was almost a relief to have him be the one who was frightened and bleeding, for once.
"Miss Klara" he called her, and said please. How strange that a criminal, a man half the city was terrified of, would treat her better in the space of one sentence than her so-called family had done in almost twenty years. It confirmed to her that she'd made the right choice, giving the Darrows' stash away.
Klara nodded, ignoring the wordless noises of protest from the couple as she walked past them into the back room without so much as a glance. The drawer wasn't locked--it was jammed so strangely you didn't need to lock it. You could yank on it, try to pry it open, pick the lock on the outside, whatever you liked, it wouldn't budge. But you just had to open the drawer below, then the one above, rap on its floor, and, thunk, scrape, out came the drawer you needed. She'd seen Darrow do it a thousand times, though she'd never been allowed to touch his desk herself.
She returned with the worn cigar box and held it out to the tattooed man. The contents would likely double what he had, judging by what she could see of the till.
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Post by Calvin Dietrich on May 22, 2021 3:50:50 GMT
While Klara was getting the rest of the stash, that the Darrows had clearly been hiding from him, he took the time to tidy the contents of the till. He was quick and proficient, like always. Counting quickly as he went. When he was done, his eyes drifted up to meet Silas’s dark gaze, and they shared a look. Both in agreement about what was to come next. He ignored the likely sniveling and murmurs coming from the Darrows, about Mr. Darrows no doubt broken nose.
As Klara came back, Vin turned towards her, tugging on his gloved hands to pull the gloves on tighter. She held the cigar box out to him, and he gave her the briefest of smiles, "Thank you." He took it from her. He bounced it slightly, judging it’s weight before he’d hand it back to her, and then lift the lid. Eyeing the rolls of paper pills, he could only assume they’d been counted out in accordingly. Doing the quick math in his mind, he nodded to himself. Playing the role as money keeper quite well. He closed the box to the cigar box and then closed the lid on the till, before taking the box back from Klara and placing it on top of the till, for Silas to carry.
“Alright, it seems we have everything we came for.” He remarked, Silas nudged Klara in the arm, nodding towards the Open door, where Flynn was standing in the doorway. Arms crossed over his broad chest, while bright blues quietly took in the scene before him. Klara would notice that Silas would fall into step behind her, blocking her view of the Darrows, and Vin.
Vin placed his cane on the ground again, leaning on it as he started to unroll his sleeves, and begin to put his jacket back on. “Until we see you again, Darrows.” Vin tugged on his coat collar, straightening it out as he started to make his way to the doors.
Are you, are you...Coming to the tree….
They strung up a man, They say who murdered three…
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be,
If we met at midnight..
In the hanging tree…
He started to hum. The clunk of his cane, sounding on the floor boards. Vin was almost out of the inn when he stopped. Sharing a look with both Flynn and Silas, they’d flank Klara immediately. “One more thing,” He called hand reaching for the inn door as if he was about to close it. Instead he reached up his coat sleeve, pulling out a “The Hanged Man.” Tarot card. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pin, and pricked his thumb, smearing a streak of blood over the front of the card with a quick swipe. He turned and used his cane to hammer the card and its tack on the front of the Inn door.
What the Darrows couldn’t see, was that the card was in Reverse….
“The Hanged Man sends his regards.” Calvin didn’t look over his shoulder as the Inn door abruptly shut. The screams of Mr. and Mrs. Darrow followed moments after, and then both quickly cut off.
Minutes went by, and Flynn started to tap his foot. Meanwhile Silas was stoic as he stood there with both the till and cigar box. A carriage was down the street just a ways, and he occasionally glanced towards it. Eventually, the inn door opened, and Calvin stepped out. Closing it behind him, he was polishing the pommel of his cane with a handkerchief, watching his work as he started to limp towards the waiting trio.
A look of anger mixed with disgust and disapproval on his face, as he tsked and then started to use his cane again. “Sorry for the wait.” He murmured. “S’no problem boss.” Flynn said, sounding rather cheerful all of a sudden. He started to move down towards the carriage, and Calvin glanced towards Klara, before nodding at the carriage. Indicating it was theres, and she could get in.
Once at the carriage, Calvin held the door open for her, and would then climb up after her. Taking both the boxes from Silas, before he sat up with Flynn who was acting as the driver.
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Post by Klara on May 22, 2021 22:45:05 GMT
Klara stood perfectly still with the box in her hands as the tattooed man went through the cigar box, counting what was there. She could hear the Darrows whimpering and whining behind her, but she didn't turn. She wouldn't dignify their upset with a reward. They'd sold her; why shouldn't she serve her new master obediently?
Klara flinched sightly when the tattooed man nudged her towards the others. (Had he said one was Flynn and one was Silas? She'd have to get herself introduced better later.) The guards forced her toward the door and blocked her from returning, though it wasn't as if she'd have gone back. She looked over her shoulder only in an attempt to see what their leader was doing now. Outside the inn, they stopped, and the leader put a card on the door. Perhaps the couple couldn't see its state...but Klara did. Cold dread settled like a wet blanket over her neck and shoulders. Was he--?
He shut himself inside, and Klara no longer had to question. She had heard what the Hanged Man had done with his enemies. Had that been the plan all along? Or was the tattooed man punishing them for lying?
The short scream of the couple made her flinch, but after that, she waited just as patiently as the man with the cigarette box. Or, at least, she was equally still on the surface. Internally, she was still trying to understand how her life had just changed in an instant. She was free of her abusive and demeaning life...but was she walking into something worse? This man, whoever he was, he'd spoken to her politely, made sure she could bring what she needed, and she had the strangest feeling that removing her from whatever he was doing now was partly to protect her. She could just as easily be inside, hanging with the others. But here she was…
When the door opened again, Klara's posture stiffened as she turned to watch him leave. He seemed...upset. She wondered why.
She followed obediently as they moved toward the carriage, but when the tattooed man held the door for her, she hesitated. This was strange. Still, she paused only for a beat before climbing into the carriage and sitting in the rear seat with her hands folded in her lap and her knees tightly together, automatically taking up as little space as possible.
She was silent for a long time before she looked back up at the tattooed man. "Do I call you 'boss,' too?" she finally asked, her alto voice quiet, as if she were afraid to break the silence. She nodded toward the men up front by way of explanation. "He did."
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Post by Calvin Dietrich on May 23, 2021 2:48:48 GMT
Calvin climbed in after Klara with the money boxes, and sat on the opposite bench in the corner. Setting the boxes next to him, he kept his cane up between his legs, and slowly stretched out his weaker leg. Feeling the tell tale ache that he’d over done it again. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, as he let the tension that had been in his shoulders slowly out. At the sound of Klara’s voice breaking the silence, it was the same time the carriage lurched forward, and they were off down the street, towards the Gallows.
His bright blues flickered open, and his fast was mostly cast in shadow from the brim of his top hat. He studied her a moment, considering her question. Do I call you boss too? A small smirk appeared on his face before it fell away. Flynn called him “boss” mostly out of affection, considering Calvin was merely the man that “relayed” the actual bosses orders. To everyone else he was either Dietrich, or Calvin, or Vin to those he truly considered friends.
“That depends, are you one of my employees now?” he asked her. His voice was low, calm. There was a bit of amusement in his tone however. He settled into his seat a bit more, leaning back until he could feel his hat hitting the back of the carriage wall. “My name is Calvin Dietrich, Miss Klara.” He said introducing himself. “I don’t think I need to tell you that I work for the Hanged Man.” There was a twitch of a smile again. She’d seen for herself that he did. “Mr. Drake, and Mr. O’Neal are also associates. You could almost consider us, the Hanged Man’s inner circle.” He quickly explained. “Those that work for the Hanged Man, enter a partnership with him. They receive payment for their work, and in turn, they have a means to make a living. As proper a living as he can make it.” Calvin trailed off lowly, thinking about what he’d just done to the Darrows.
He waited a few more beats before he canted his head curiously. “Whether or not you come to work for him as well, is up to you.” He spoke softly. Almost gently. “The Darrows didn’t sell you. They Freed you.” He leaned forward, enough for her to catch his eye so he could hold it, and so she could let those words sink in. She had a choice now. One that she might have not had before if Calvin hadn’t shown her mercy.
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Post by Klara on May 23, 2021 19:31:31 GMT
Klara's brows drew closer and closer together the more that Mr. Dietrich had to say. Why was he telling her all this? Was he simply trying to make her feel better about being the new property of an up-and-coming criminal operation? He seemed proud of the group he worked for, despite the unsavory business he'd just been forced to deal with.
“Whether or not you come to work for him as well, is up to you.” He spoke softly. Almost gently. “The Darrows didn’t sell you. They Freed you.” He leaned forward, enough for her to catch his eye so he could hold it, and so she could let those words sink in.
Klara's dark eyes widened as she searched his face for any trace of trickery. Was he really willing to just let her go? She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a great canyon, looking down at the infinite drop below her; her stomach dropped out at the sheer incomprehension. She'd never been able to choose her own clothing, let alone choose what kind of work she would do.
Calvin's eyes on her made her nervous and she dropped her gaze aside again as she ran an anxious hand through her clay-red hair. This was so much; she didn't know what to do. She was free to choose what she wanted. This man-- she looked back to him, her dark eyes shining with the threat of tears. Why was he doing this? Why was he being so kind to her? She didn't understand. She wanted to ask, but she worried that would seem ungrateful. She couldn't afford to upset him now.
"I don't know what to say," she admitted. "And I wouldn't know where to go if I went anywhere else. I've been trapped in that place for as long as I can remember." She hesitated. "If...If I take a job with the Hanged Man...would I be expected to do what you did, back there?"
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Post by Calvin Dietrich on May 24, 2021 2:44:40 GMT
Calvin didn’t move as he watched Klara take in what he had to say. The way her eyes widened and tried to see where the trick was in his words. Only...There wasn’t a trick. It was true. She had the Hanged Man’s own words come from his lips, though she didn’t know it.
He continued to watch her, the way she moved that hand through her hair. Noting despite her thinness, she was a pretty girl. In the hands of anyone else, they might have put her to use somewhere else. Like at Candle Lights, or somewhere else. At the thought of candle lights, he wondered idly how Desire was doing...
He could only imagine what she might possibly be going through. His blue eyes looking towards the scratch on her cheek before he looked back at her face. Her world was changing drastically, just like his had. He couldn’t do much to help with her emotions, but he could help a little in at least putting her mind at ease. At least for tonight.
At her question, he leaned back. Considering her for a moment before he spoke. “No.” He said. “The Hanged Man gives jobs on what that person might excel, or be good at. I imagine he’d give work that you already knew how to do.” He mused. “I’ll make you an offer Klara.” He said suddenly, adjusting himself in his seat. “Stay with us for a week. In technical terms you are part of the debt that the Darrows paid off, however, I’m not one for owning slaves.” He continued. “And I won’t just toss a young woman out on the streets.” He let a small sigh out. Anyone else in that carriage with them would realize Calvin was giving a far generous offer. He didn’t have to what he was doing and yet was anyways. Maybe it was because he felt sympathy for her, and was treated Klara how he wished he’d been treated those years ago.
Whatever the reason that had compelled him, here he was. “Use the time to either find yourself a job or other lodgings. I’ll have Moira look after you, and you can see how we Hanged Men really are.” He went on further. A small, fond smile began to appear on his face as he thought of the club. It was more than a front for the club, but a legitimate business as well. One...She was about to see.
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Post by Klara on May 24, 2021 3:18:48 GMT
Klara listened closely to his words, still a little worried there might be a catch. But no matter how she worked, she couldn't find anything wrong with what he was saying. It was beyond generous; it was more than she'd ever dared to dream. She'd always assumed she'd spend her whole life wasting away in the Darrow's rat-infested inn, getting used up until there was nothing left. To even imagine anything else was just setting herself up for heartbreak. But now... A job, a place to live of her own, the choice to come and go freely… It was nothing short of a miracle.
" I’ll have Moira look after you, and you can see how we Hanged Men really are.”
"Alright," she agreed, nodding firmly once.
The smile changed his face, softening his demeanor and taking a few years off her guesses about his age. He really wasn't that much older than her, was he? He looked almost boyish the more of a smile he allowed. It was that, along with the patient explanation he'd given, that finally caused Klara to smile for the first time. She was still anxious, she didn't know how not to be, but she was beginning to think that if nothing else, this was the first genuinely kind person she'd come into contact with in God only know how long. He may be a criminal, a murderer, even...but she was choosing to put her trust in him.
"Thank you, Calvin. I don't know how I can repay you...but I'll do my best." She meant that, too, with every fiber of her being. If he was going to take this chance on her, she was going to find a way to make it worthwhile. It was the least she could do, seeing as she quite literally owed him her life. Whether she wound up working for him or not, she'd find some way.
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Post by Calvin Dietrich on May 24, 2021 4:46:49 GMT
Well that settled it then didn’t it? He thought, pleased with the outcome though he was out the debt that the Darrows owed. Still...The deed he’d taken that was in his pocket meant he had owner ship of that inn. His money had gone into it, and so he was taking it back. He could sell it and get back what the Darrows still owed him, and set aside the rest for Klara. It was just as much hers as it was his considering what they’d done to her. She could do with the money what she wanted, and if she decided not to stay with them, he’d have it sent to her residence once he’d acquired it. His mind was already working on how to go about it, but she was thanking him.
He redirected his attention to her and quickly held up a hand, giving a small shake of his head. “No repayment required.” He told her, and would leave it at that. He’d done it just for himself as he did her, and freedom didn’t have a price tag. Not in his eyes.
The carriage soon rolled to a stop, and the door opened. Silas was standing there, and Calvin handed the money over too him, before he climbed out first. Minding his leg, he stood off to the side and then would offer his hand to help Klara down. She’d find immediately that they were on the upper west side of London where the streets were a bit cleaner, and everything has a sort of flare about it. The building before them was already quite filled with night activity, as there was music coming out of club and lanterns were well lit. There were men outside the door that were roughly the same size of Silas and Flynn, manning the doors. Silas led the way inside while Flynn was dealing with the carriage. Calvin kept pace with Klara at his side, nodding to the two at the door as they immediately held it open for the trio.
Music instantly surrounded them, and there were cheers coming from a winning table somewhere to one side of the large room. A bar was on the left hand side, while there was a balcony looking down from the upper right hand section. The upper floor was forbidden for regular patrons as it was where all the Hanged Men did their business and hung out. On the upper floor there was a small bar as well as Calvin’s office.
On the far back wall was a small stage where a band played, and the whole place was decorated in golden drapery with red accents. Pieces of art hun on the walls as there were a maze of tables, stacked to the nines, with both men and the occasional woman. Smoke filled the air from the cigarettes being used, and Calvin took the moment to admire his empire. It’d taken hard work, and blood, sweat, and sheer will to get where he was today. Pride filled his gaze as motioned for Klara to follow him rather then taking the few steps down onto the main floor. He instead led her off to the right, going out of the foyer. Silas was quietly accompanying them, as they went through a door, and then took a left. Going down a hallway fore there was another individual garding a staircase.
“Dietrich, Drake.” The man said in greeting, giving them both nods. “Mr. Johnson.” Calvin said in greeting, dipping his hat. Johnson eyed Klara curiously but he didn’t say much more. Stepping aside to let them up. It took Calvin a bit longer then most to climb stairs, but it was a battle he constantly had to take with his bad leg. Even if he used his magic to help, using it constantly wore on his body. He did his best however, and once they reached the top, the music from down stairs floated above to them. Silas was parting with them then, taking the till and money box to Calvin’s office without needing to be told, and Calvin continued down the short hallway that opened up to the upper level. There were fewer tables and a few of the boys were up here, playing cards and sipping on their drinks. A few were looking down over the balcony to the main floor, and at the bar was Moira Evans.
Moira was a short woman, standing at measly 5’3, with pale skin, dark brown hair that nearly resembled a raven shade, bright blue eyes and her lips were painted ruby red. She was a curvy woman, with a larger bust then most which often got her glances from the male population, but those that knew Moira knew she was as sweet as honey and would be grinning while she stabbed you to death. She was a lot like the big sister that Calvin didn’t know if he wanted or not, but Moira was one that took care of everyone else. She might have been around everyone's same age, but she acted like their mother.
And when those bright blue eyes turned to land on Calvin and Klara, when immediately went into mother hen mode. “Say no more Vinny,” She said quickly, handing off a drink to one of the boys before she came scurrying around the bar, her heels muffled from the rug. Her skirts were long and flowy. Following an A-line cut, ending just above her ankles and the upper part of her dress had a V-neck with long pillowing sleeves as it gathered at her wrist. It was a in blue grey color and looked rather lovely on her, but Moira was always one to dresses to impress. “Look at you! We’ll get you cleaned up and have a hot meal in you in no time!” She said, a bright a grin appearing on her face, as she came over and put her hands on either side of Klara. “Has he bored you to death yet?” She asked glancing over at Calvin and as she leaned in with a conspirators tone. “Between you and me, our dear Calvin could stand to smile a bit more.” She whispered, before a grin appeared. Calvin merely rolled his eyes as he reached up to remove his hat. “Very funny, Miss Evans.” He remarked, with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Oh don’t look at me like that you sour puss! And what's with the "Miss Evan's" She mocked him, her voice going deep to imitate his voice as she rolled her eyes. "You’re going to scare her off and I don’t even know her name yet!” Moira fired back at him. Calvin couldn’t hide the small smile, as amusement twinkled in his blue eyes. “Moira Evans, Klara. She’s a...New associate. She’ll likely be staying the week with us, I trust she’s in good hands.” The swat to his arm that suddenly followed too him to surprise, but Moira’s excitement was clear as she beamed at Klara. “Of course she’s in good hands! Flynn wouldn’t know the first thing to do with her, and she’d end up having to have conversations with herself if it was Silas.” Moira remarked.
“I heard that…” Came a deep voice as the brooding bear in question made his way to one of the tables. Moira merely waved a hand in dismissal before taking Klara’s hand and started to take her down one of the hallways. Already starting to ramble at Klara. Calvin’s blue eyes watched them go, before he started to limp his way to the office.
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Post by Klara on May 25, 2021 1:26:22 GMT
He redirected his attention to her and quickly held up a hand, giving a small shake of his head. “No repayment required.” He told her and would leave it at that. He’d done it just for himself as he did her, and freedom didn’t have a price tag. Not in his eyes.
"Hmph." Was her quiet reply. He may say it wasn't necessary, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try anyway. She needed to express herself somehow, and words were definitely not her strong suit.
She didn't hesitate, this time, to take his hand stepping down. She followed Calvin comfortably, though once they were inside, she automatically slowed to take everything in. Her dark eyes were wide in amazement. The club was beautiful, all dark shining wood and rich red upholstery. The people inside were dressed to fit, too, and there were even women at the tables.
The guard didn't call her by name like the others, but she nodded her head in greeting to him anyway, hoping that would do. Upstairs was less crowded than the other area but decorated similarly. A few men were chatting and playing cards by the balcony, looking down at the others. A short woman approached them in a hurry with a bright smile.
“Say no more Vinny,” she was already calling.
Klara blinked. He hadn't said anything at all! But before she could protest, the woman was already looking her over. She just stared at her, wide-eyed and tense, before looking to Calvin for guidance. He seemed irritated at first, but despite the woman's continued jabs, or maybe because of them, he was soon smiling back. Klara relaxed a little. The woman was right about one thing, at least--Calvin could definitely stand to smile a bit more.
She tried to keep up with the banter, but she was still putting names to faces, and Moira had more energy in her little body than Klara had ever felt in her life. It was like trying to listen to three conversations at once, and all of them coming from one woman. Before she knew it, she was being pulled away down one of the hallways with the brunette still gushing at her.
She looked back over her shoulder at Calvin, reluctant to be parted from the one person she'd been able to trust, but he seemed perfectly content to hand her off to Moira. That meant she would be okay...right?
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