Under a new roof

What’s hungry must be fed

When he heard about Armand’s debt he only smiled. Was he the only one who didn’t owe people money? Timm had chuckled a bit as he told Henriot the story of his friends owing each other money as they cleaned up from that day’s work. He and Timm had been able to repair the roof and the walls enough to keep the weather out.

Repairing the stairs was the first step they had undertaken, then the roof, then the walls. Henriot had ordered the supplies and tools while Timm was away. On his return, they got to work. Longer days and more sweat than adventuring Timm had informed Henriot…and significantly less dangerous, he couldn’t help but also mention.

Even if the job was temporary, he wasn’t sure what to make of his new employer. He paid fairly, wasn’t over demanding, didn’t tell you how to do something, just what needed doing. But, their was a longer gaze to his eyes than a man his age should have. He’s sailed the real seas, not just the coastal waters. And there’s something darker, deeper to him, his eyes hold a deep regret…and he was one of the Gate Closers, or Special Survey Group 13 as they were known in Ministry circles.

Everywhere is outside

Henriot knew what he would do. He would continue to work for Timm, get to know him, and to report back to the guild about his findings…but perhaps keep a few things for himself. Keeping tabs on a person of interest before being directed to had always benefited Henriot and he expected nothing else this time…he would never hold a position of power in the guild again. It would never be allowed, but he will continue to be allowed to operate independently…for now.

Timm had offered Henriot a room at the inn. Even offered to frame it out first on a floor of his choice, but Henriot refused. I’d rather fuck the whores in Bassot…I only hang out down here on occasion, you know, for some flavor. Henriot had said. Timm had laughed and said something about flavor combinations that he hadn’t really understood, but it didn’t really matter. They were both lecherous scoundrels.

Not a Noble

Once while out drinking together and hitting on the ladies, he told Timm You own a tavern, I’m just a laborer carrying boards and hammering nails, how am I supposed to compete with you?

Timm had responded, not that clearly or without spitting a little, Argh that’s horseshit…for now I own something that takes all my money away from the ladies, while even when I’m gone or don’t own the Hungry Clam, it will always be the place that you built…and didn’t have to pay for. Timm chuckled a bit at his own observation as the memory faded.

Initial Evaluation

The man doesn’t expect to have a long life, but as far as he could tell, Timm had survived every circumstance a difficult fate had thrown his way. Mom turned into a zombie, sailed as a child throughout a war, survived three ships sinking, closed the gate of Oth and admitted doing so to the king…and is still alive?

With a smile no one else saw Henriot admitted to himself what he would tell no one. He liked Timm and really didn’t want to fuck him over. He would have to be careful with the guild. Timm had given him a key to the tavern to receive supplies and work on things in his spare time, but unbeknownst to Timm, Henriot has two keys to the tavern. The one Timm gave him and the other one…it helps to be the one who picked the locksmith.

Probably wasn’t supposed to see that.

Henriot watched from the space that would someday become the cellar as Timm closed and locked the door behind him. Soaking wet didn’t even begin to describe Timm. It was like he was water-logged. His clothes, skin, everything looked like it had been submerged for hours. Whatever it was he had with him, must be important. He took it upstairs to the third floor and then nothing…no sound, no light for several hours.

Finally, Timm came back downstairs, fresh clothes on and finally noticed Henriot. Timm walked over to the bar, put a bottle and glass on the counter and poured himself a full cup of whiskey. He took a couple swigs before addressing Henriot.

Have you been here since I got back?

Henriot nodded yes nervously. He’d heard that tone before in others.

Are you here at someone’s direction?

Henriot nodded no. He hadn’t been directed here…yet.

Are you sober? Why the hell do you look so scared?

Why where you soaking wet? Henriot looked surprised as the question escaped his lips, finally speaking.

I was swimming dummy! Timm laughed, poured another drink and slid it down the bar to Henriot.

Henriot raised his glass, To friends...and employment!