Notes: Written for a pairing/location/prompt meme that I posted on LJ. Zillabean asked for Nigel & Raymond, out for drinks together, with the prompt of "complaining about their bosses". Now, I'm going to say straight away that this fic obviously isn't intended to be taken as serious business in any way, shape or form. Especially since we know so little about the nature of Descole and Raymond's relationship until PL6 comes out (so pretty much at the end of the month this fic will be irrelevant). With that in mind, it'd be a good idea to take this with a pinch of salt. For arguments sake, let's say this is set sometime after Miracle Mask. It does contain some vague spoilers for PL2, but little else to worry about.
Wednesday evenings have been, possibly throughout history, the evening when you will seem to unavoidably have some sort of obligation to see to. Nobody knows exactly why this is, just that regardless of how free you try to keep your schedule, Wednesdays seem to be the one day that manages to worm something in to keep you otherwise occupied.
With this knowledge in mind, Raymond would always manage to get them off work, simply through pretending he was otherwise engaged during this time.
Descole never liked that his man-servant would disappear for a few hours half way through the week, but he had to admit that he was obliged to give him at least that much time to himself. Not legally obliged, of course. Because what did Descole care of the law? But as a human being, he was aware that there was only so far he could stretch Raymond, despite him constantly testing that limit.
So here Raymond was, sat in a little nowhere pub in Reading, staring at the walls and just draining his mind of Descole's eccentric plans for at least a few hours.
"Sometimes I feel as if we're all being had. Like it's not real, none of it. That Vera lady from down the… the… you know, cabaret? What's a pretty lady like her doing out here when she could be making a name for herself in the city? Or that guy who has the cameras? His name slips my mind, but no one knows anything about cameras and he could make a killing from fixing them for people. But they all just hang around Folsense and I really don't get it."
Also, Nigel was here.
Nigel worked as a butler for some duke called Anton, as far as Raymond could tell, and took the similar route of trying to slip as far away as possible from work every now and again to free himself of his employer. Reading had been a good choice for both of them to put the right amount of distance between them and their places of work. Although Nigel didn't turn up every week, since his positioned seemed very definitely full-time, when he was here Raymond at least enjoyed listening to someone else who had a similar sort of role in life as he did.
"Mm," Raymond grunted, to show that Nigel still had his attention.
"Sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm real," Nigel continued, "Do I look real to you?"
Raymond stared him up and down. Nigel was an odd chap, could easily be confused for a vampire in the wrong- …actually, in most lights, but even after a few drinks Raymond was sure that he'd be aware if someone wasn't actually there.
"Ya look real enough ta me," he replied.
Nigel nodded; "I suppose that I'm worrying about nothing. It just all gets a little… troubling at time. Nothing ever seems quite like it's in place. Kind of like… like we're living in a music box that someone's constantly keeping wound up, just doing exactly the same dance every day without ever really realising it, because that's what we've been made to do."
"That all sound a bit deep ta me," droned Raymond, "Yer just lucky that ya have the same place ta go home ta every night. Ah git kept travellin' aboot so much that ah never know where ah'm gonna lay me head from one day ta the next."
He was always very careful never to give away details, but he let Nigel know enough about his job to know that it involved moving around from one place to the next frequently. Which explained why he might go for months on end without coming here, before settling back into a regular habit. Nigel never asked questions, so Raymond assumed that the explanation went without being too suspicious.
"Yes, yes, mustn't grumble," Nigel agreed, "I can be a little self-involved at times, but that's to be expected when I go for most days with only my own company and that of the master."
"Do ya never think aboot goin' ta see those villagers? Ya gan on aboot them enough," suggested Raymond.
"The master is… rather not fond of company. I'd rather not do anything that went against his rules," Nigel evaded.
"Ah suppose ah can understand that," Raymond agreed.
For the most part, his life consisted only of him and Descole. He was the one person who Descole confided in about any of his plans. It was Raymond's duty to hang back and not be seen, so that he could pull Descole out of any situations that got too difficult.
The thing about having a job that requires you to not be easily identifiable is that it means you don't get to talk to a great deal many people.
These occasional meetings with Nigel were about as much conversation as Raymond got outside of Descole. And even these depended upon both of them just happening to be here at the same time.
"You do seem like a man who-"
"Raymond?"
Both of their heads moved towards the door, where a man whose face was hidden by a thick hood stood, radiating an aura of annoyance. It was hard for Raymond not roll his eyes at this. Descole was a master of disguise and could easily blend into any crowd that he wanted, yet here he was sticking out like a sore thumb in an outfit that couldn't draw more attention to him if he tried. He looked so suspicious that half of the pub probably expected him to sit down and try to sell them something dodgy.
In many ways, Descole liked to be the center of attention, even at times when he wasn't allowed to show his face.
"Yes?" said Raymond. Normally there'd be a 'master' at the end of that statement, but that would risk drawing even more attention to their situation than was necessary right now.
"What are you doing here when we have… things to see to? He's on the move now. We're very close. I can feel it," Descole replied. It was clear he was talking about Layton from how much trouble he was having keeping the excitement out of his voice.
Reproachfully, Raymond reminded, "This is mah evening off."
"We don't have time for that! You can have all the time to yourself in the world when we're done, but right now I need you by my side," hissed Descole.
"All right. Just let me finish mah drink first," Raymond said, stubbornly.
"Very well, but don't take all night about it!" snapped Descole, turning to leave in a whirl of over-sized coats.
"Your master?" asked Nigel.
"The one an' only," Raymond answered, downing his drink, "Ah shouldn't keep him waiting too long. He can be right difficult when he gits inta one of these moods." He pulled himself up off his seat.
"I shall not keep you then," Nigel replied, "Until next time."
"Aye."
Assuming there would be a next time and this final plan wouldn't land him in an early grave. It was all turning rather dangerous lately and while Raymond didn't doubt his own skills, he wasn't getting any younger.
But that was all a bit too depressing and not what Nigel needed to know.
He bid himself farewell and headed out to where Descole was waiting in front of the carriage, making no effort to mask his impatience. He must have driven it here himself, which was quite a risky thing for him to do.
"Get a move on then! I don't understand why you want to spend your time in such a hovel anyway," muttered Descole.
"Ah like ta catch up. Ah have… a friend from Folsense 'oo drops in sometimes," informed Raymond, as he climbed onto the front of the carriage, ready to drive them off.
"Folsense? But that's miles away," Descole commented, as he made to get into the back of the carriage, "Far more than a day's drive."
"Ah don't ask the man his business more than ah need ta know," said Raymond, "Maybe he just wants ta get away from his troubles that much."
Which… didn't make a lot of sense, seeing as Nigel implied his role kept him busy at pretty much all times. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he was there, so he'd had to have gotten there somehow.
He was a real person, after all.
"Where was your friend anyway?" Descole questioned, from inside the carriage, "I didn't see him when I came to fetch you."
"He was sat right there," said Raymond, "The creepy lookin' bloke with the long nose."
"Um, all right. Are you sure that you're not too intoxicated to drive?" Descole checked.
"Ah'm fine. Ah only had a few," Raymond retorted, defensively.
"If you say so," Descole dismissed.
Perhaps he'd just overlooked this friend when he'd gone to fetch Raymond. After all, it was unlikely that his manservant had just fabricated an entire person just to talk to, wasn't it?