The sight of Mr. Gold always brought unabashed loathing and a hint of fear racing across everybody's features when he was passing through, seemingly on a leisurely stroll that was anything but, his single-minded purpose the collection of rent or loan payments. His reputation was well established and nobody questioned his motives beyond a simple wish for financial gain, calling him a dirty old miser and a scrooge quite openly behind his back, only to fall quiet and sweat slightly when he'd come knocking to collect.
Ruby hated him as much as the next person, her rage swelling on the inside when he'd come on the first of every month, precise like damned Swiss clockwork – to squeeze the last penny from Granny. They always seemed to break even, they'd have just enough to pay him and cover their expenses, but the business never flourished quite enough for them to be able to implement any actual changes in the diner or the inn, changes that would have surely, with time, returned the investment so that they could finally get a break and not sweat over each and every cent.
Ruby had a love-hate relationship with Granny, and while she needed and sort of even liked her job, waiting tables was not exactly the career choice that she was going for. Sure, she was young and pretty now, so the tips flowed in quite bountifully (Granny let her keep half, which she used to buy make-up and all the pretty clothes that her grandma would have loved to torch for being "too provocative"; but Ruby argued once that her skimpy uniform was what was getting them enough cash to pay for the dizzying rent to the "loan shark dinosaur") but what would happen once she was older, her body less fit, not quite tight in all of the places that men just loved to ogle at? Of course, that wasn't bound to happen for a very long time, but still… No matter how obligated she felt to help Granny out, it was by no means her dream to stay stuck here all of her life, serving bacon and eggs, pie and beer to leering customers day in and day out, till she was all wrinkled and gray, her youth and vigor spent.
Speaking of gray hair, her striking kohl rimmed eyes shot sharply towards the door as the little bell chimed, announcing the next customer. She was used to, actually conditioned would be the proper term for it, looking at the door immediately upon hearing the shrill ring, knowing what to expect, mulling over in her head what certain patrons usually ordered (luckily, most of them were creatures of habit) and fixing her customary wolfish grin to greet them. This man, however, was one of the very select few that got a sneer from her instead. She couldn't really help it, it was an unconscious reaction; a well deserved one at that.
Had there been another waitress, she would have been more than happy to delegate the task to her (or threaten to blab all of the poor girl's secrets in front of the rush hour crowd if need be), anything to get out of serving this misanthropic old bastard.
Alas, she was alone, so she straightened her microscopic apron and lazily approached his table, gaze fixed on her little notepad to avoid eye-contact as much as possible. Twiddling a pen between her fingers, she cast him a brief glance of professional courtesy and asked in an automated sort of voice, like she had been programmed to do it, completely devoid of her usual flair.
"What will it be, Mr. Gold?"
Their gazes locked for a brief moment, and she could see a hint of amusement glint in his dark brown eyes, suddenly alight with suppressed mischief.
"Just coffee as usual, dear."
She could almost taste the palpable rush of bile that bubbled within her as he used that sickening term of false endearment. Everybody was his "dear"; but he didn't mean it with any of them, instead using it to poke and prod people, rubbing his superiority in their indebted faces. He was well aware of the fact that he owned all of Storybrooke, directly or indirectly, and that everyone depended on him for something, but that didn't mean that she had to be polite with the guy. Quite the contrary, as long as they had enough to pay the rent, she would take pleasure in providing less than satisfactory service. She turned around to fetch the pot, unwilling to dawdle.
"How would you like your coffee?" She said out of habit, even though she had intended on ignoring him for the rest of his stay.
"The usual." He replied with that mocking, lopsided grin she could hear seeping through his Scottish accent.
"As black as your soul, then…" She mumbled under her breath as she poured him a cup.
Ruby strolled leisurely to his table and dropped it in front of him, half-wishing she could just spill the scalding hot liquid into his lap, but restrained herself. She had no doubts in her mind that he would be more than delighted to press charges and take the diner from under their feet if he so desired. And no matter how satisfying it would be to see him lose composure and get second degree burns on his private bits (if he even had any, nobody had ever seen him accompanied, and he seemed thoroughly uninterested in carnal affairs, so it was quite possible that the guy was a eunuch or something), she just couldn't bring herself to do something that would break Granny's heart. The diner and the B&B were her life.
Gold looked up in brief acknowledgement and offered a sly grin as he said: "Thank you, dearie."
Ugh. That word was even worse. It felt even more condescending than "dear", if that was even possible. The disgusted look on her face must have registered with him, because he asked with a false sheepish grin plastered on his face:
"What's the matter, dearie?" The corners of his lips twitched slightly as a shadow of a smirk flickered on his wrinkled visage.
"Must you use that word?" She asked, thoroughly annoyed, feeling like he had repeated it just to spite her.
"What else should I use, dear?" He asked, trying to appear innocent and failing miserably. Even though she could see right through it, Ruby couldn't help but notice the endearment go down a notch. But then again, he could have just switched because repeating it a third time would have lost the initial impact.
That, or pushed her over the edge to slosh the burning hot coffee over his trousers after all.
"I do have a name, you know." She half-grumbled, rolling her eyes as she stood there, her hips cocked to the side, one of her arms resting on it for support. It was supposed to make her look fearsome.
In reality, all it managed to do was to make her look deliciously pouty. He let out a barely audible chuckle as he looked at her with mild interest, as if he was trying to decide the best course of action.
"Ruby…" He accentuated; the thickness of the brogue suddenly more pronounced; his voice velvety and deep. "Are you sure that would be… appropriate?"
Only then did she realize that she managed to fall into a trap. Worst of all, it was her own fault. Her name suddenly crossing his lips felt like a curse, in a way even worse than any old-world terms he could come up with. Shuddering at the thought, "What the hell was I thinking?" a slight blush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, she turned on her heel in a flash, storming off to hide behind the counter and pretend to be busy with cleaning the coffee machine, or washing the glasses. Preferably the coffee machine. That way her back would be turned on him.
As she was changing the filters, the diner was eerily quiet, save for the soft rustle of Mr. Gold's newspapers every now and again, and she was relieved that the old fart wasn't paying attention to her anymore. She had never been a coward and was quite renowned for her devil-may-care, often most brazen attitude, fearless and cheeky with everyone. She had no qualms with slapping away grubby hands of drunken customers or even providing snarky comments, for there was nobody in this little town that scared her.
Above all else, Storybrooke was a boring little provincial town, where gossip traveled faster than the speed of light, and nothing interesting or exciting ever happened. Every aspect of life was routine, so much so that she would often change the way she dressed, usually in a constant curve towards "less is more", just to provoke a reaction out of somebody, anybody. Usually the only thing she managed to accomplish were outraged whispers of moralistically inclined old prudes and enthusiastic whistles from the approving male populace.
Yet nothing had ever managed to rattle her like this little exchange.
He didn't even do anything, she chided herself. But there was just something innately unnerving about the guy. No wonder he was still alive despite being universally hated, she mused, he wasn't exactly much to look at – a slight man, about her height, (which actually meant that he was shorter, for she always wore heeled boots) but his inner energy, his presence was no joke. He was just as intimidating as that tall and lanky bald gorilla he would sometimes have in tow. Except for some reason, even the freakishly huge "Lurch guy" as she preferred to call him, had nothing on the menacing aura that Gold seemed to exude effortlessly. Gold was a heartless bastard, but nobody dared lift a finger against him, he was simply too powerful.
Ruby scoffed at the thought. Powerful? Like she gave a damn. The old cod could be the president of the universe and she still wouldn't care. Sure, he had the entire town in his clutches, but that didn't mean that Ruby had to bow down her head. She was stubborn and fiercely independent, and just because he was "the Big Bad" did by no means alter her opinion. "Do your worst, Mr. Grinch." She thought defiantly.
The dampened clacking of his cane across the diner floor snapped her out of her reverie and she turned slightly, feeling quite relieved that he was about to leave.
Except he was going in the wrong direction.
Her eyes widened and then narrowed as his back finally disappeared behind the restroom doors.
Damn it. When she finally thought she was blessedly rid of him for the day.
He was just so damn unsettling. She wasn't sure whether it was because he seemed hell-bent on bleeding them dry with his sky-high rent, or perhaps it was the fault of that omnipresent, knowing little smile which unnerved her to no end. Whatever it was, she was smart enough to know that he shouldn't be crossed. At least not out in the open.
Though, petty things like getting him lukewarm coffee, or putting sugar in (which he hated), now those were definitely not beneath her. She snickered in delight, contemplating other spiteful little strategies she could employ to piss him off without him knowing whether they were deliberate in nature or not.
Actually, he would probably know regardless, but wouldn't be able to do anything other than grumble.
Which would actually be an accomplishment on her part, since he always seemed so ridiculously composed.
She took a cloth and started wiping the tables. Might as well appear busy, because there was no more work to be done behind the counter and she was running out of things to do. Casting a furtive glance out the window, she prayed for customers. It was a slow morning and they really could use every penny, even though right now, the only thing she wanted was a distraction, somebody else to focus on. If that meant ignoring his summons for a refill, all the better. Customers absolutely despised that.
She tackled the table with a toothy grin, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest as the restroom doors squeaked open to reveal the town ogre clad in one of his pristine suits. He was about the only person in Storybrooke that wore such expensive-looking clothes. Well, the only one besides Regina perhaps, but Madame Mayor had a reason behind her dress-code. Black was flawless on her, tight fitting suit jackets and pencil skirts, coupled with gleaming stilettos were nothing short of impeccable formal wear. It made her look like she meant business and commanded respect, while at the same time looking tasteful and elegant.
To be fair, there was nothing wrong with Gold's suits. They were the epitome of tailored perfection, such a perfect fit that it didn't even look like a second skin, it was his skin. Nobody had ever seen the man wearing anything else. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if the guy actually slept in them. Either that, or in a pair of silky black pajamas, or something equally extravagant as that. "What the fuck?" Ruby was half-tempted to slap herself. Her brain was obviously working overtime. Maybe she should lay off the coffee. And the sugar.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him fiddling with his wallet, leaving a bill on the table. As he headed for the exit, Ruby maneuvered deftly around the table to avoid him, already on her way to wipe his table next (even though he couldn't have made much of a mess, really); already fully expecting to see a lousy tip, or none at all (the guy was, after all, a scrooge); coming to a dead halt as her eyes zoomed in on the numbers printed on it.
Her mouth formed a little red circle as she grabbed the crisp, green twenty dollar bill and pivoted to look after him, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.
He was at the door, about to push them away, when she managed to squeeze out a tad louder than she would have hoped: "Eh… What about the change?"
Gold did a half-turn, pausing at the door and leaned on his cane, both hands resting on its golden handle. A strange sort of smile tugged on his lips, something between a smile and a smirk, halfway there. He replied simply, like it was self-evident:
"Keep it."
She blinked a couple of times, her hand frozen stiff in an awkward, slightly stretched-out position. He simply smiled at her baffled expression and added:
"I would hope the blackness of my soul has nothing to do with you refusing a tip. Have a nice day."
The amusement on his features was unmistakable as he nodded curtly and left the diner, Ruby staring after him, unable to move a muscle.
She shook her head, smooth red and black tresses flaying wildly about her face. She went to the register feeling slightly mortified.
"He heard it. "
She used both palms to slap her cheeks in reprimand.
Ruby would have expected him to trip her with his cane for that comment, and instead he left her a tip. A huge one at that.
Maybe the guy was a masochist or something?
Suddenly she had the urge to do even worse next time, just to see how he'd react.
This was a tip she definitely wouldn't be sharing with Granny.