The truck pulled up to the side of the building, black type and orange paint clashing with the dingy look of the thing. Two girls stood on the curb, boxes piled around them. The job couldn't have come at a better time, they were a month behind on their rent and they both wanted to get out of temp work. They'd sold most of the furniture, that paid the rent and got them some more space in their shitty one bedroom apartment. A man stepped out of the truck, dressed in a black suit. He looked at the boxes, then to the girls.

"Galina Kirilova?" He asked, consulting the paper he pulled out of his breast pocket.

One of them stepped forward, tall, blonde, but looking like someone had dressed a two-by-four in faded clothes. Her brown eyes flicked up to his. "Yes."

"That means you must be Carissa Ramos?" He turned to the other girl. Short, dark haired, and as well endowed as her friend wasn't. The driver, Travis, folded up the sheet. He quickly went to the boxes, and with the three of them the truck was loaded quickly. Galina and Carissa loaded up, crammed onto the bench seat with Travis. The truck set off, and Galina suppressed a shiver of nerves that threatened her.

This whole thing was on Carissa truthfully. She'd been the one who'd found the classified ad for servants. They'd sent their application off to some address out in the Palisades, then tried their best to figure out who owned the place. Which has turned up squat. So they were headed into this knowing only that the job included room and board, they received one day off a week, and that their duties would extend to cleaning the manor and repairing any clothes that had been ripped. Travis remained quiet, turning up the radio instead of talking.

The truck soon left Gotham proper behind, back into an open area that seemed to stretch for miles. The Palisades, known to house the richest of the rich in Gotham. Mansions and manors that served as respites from townhouses and penthouses. Home to parties where it wasn't uncommon to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on caviar alone. Galina would rather be slaving away for these people than waiting tables in some random diner that needed an extra hand.

"Oh shit." Carissa gasped as the truck pulled up to a set of gates, which opened when Travis pressed something in his pocket. Proudly proclaimed in wrought iron with gilded tips was the name Cobblepot.

Great, they'd just signed up to work for a Rouge.

The house seemed vaguely Rougeless though, the only person out to meet them a well dressed gray haired man. He watched as Galina and Carissa stepped out, standing in front of them. Galina stretched out a hand, smiling. "Mr. Bryant?"

"Curtsy." He replied, gesturing for them to perform. She had a feeling that their efforts were less than what was expected, mainly because they enlisted a brief intake of breath and brief clenching of his eyes."You must do a proper one by the end of the week. Sir will expect the new staff to be presented. Travis will show you to the rooms you have been assigned." With that Travis and the girls began carrying the boxes up the back set of stairs. The rooms were in the attic, each a small bedroom connected to an even smaller bathroom that seemed to groan at having to hold a shower, toilet, and mirror. A counter held the sink, a hot plate plugged into the wall to serve as an oven. A few cabinets were on the wall, a single window letting in the daylight. A wardrobe, upon further examination, held what was to be her uniform. A white button down shirt and a calf length black skirt. There were three iterations of this, a more formal uniform of black dress and white apron beside them

Galina proceeded to unpack, setting up the single bookshelf she had brought. It was quickly stuffed as full as it could go, more books being piled on top. A sewing machine was put in a corner, a battered dress form rolled beside it. Carissa was right across the hall, but Galina felt far away. Two years of sharing a space with a person made it hard to be alone.

There wasn't much time to consider her feelings though, for Travis quickly popped back up and told them to dress in their uniforms and report downstairs. One with the shirt, skirt, black stockings and sensibly heeled black shoes. Blonde hair was braided back, brushing between her shoulder blades. Carissa appeared, her brown hair brushed back and they made their way downstairs.

Mr. Bryant met them in the entryway. He quickly outlined their duties. For the next week they were to deep clean the entire manor, starting from the east wing and moving to the west. They were to call Mr. Cobblepot, Sir. Not Penguin, not Cobblepot. Sir. Galina would care for his wardrobe, laying out a suit, hat, and tie for him each morning. Carissa was to help Ms. Hunt, the cook. Mr. Bryant would attend to Sir himself, waking him in the morning, taking him tea, helping him dress and any assistance he needed during the day. After the week of deep cleaning the would perform maintenance cleaning, sweeping, dusting, and generally keeping the place clean. Rooms that Sir used everyday would need to be cleaned everyday, the library, his suite of rooms, and the dining room.

What followed was a week of scraping grime out of corners, airing out mattresses, practicing curtsies until her knees felt like they were going to give. The staff quickly made itself known, but there wasn't much of one. Travis was Sir's driver, Mr. Bryant his butler, Ms. Hunt the cook and that was it for the house staff. There was a groundkeeper that rarely stirred from cottage where he lived and a caretaker for the massive aviary that was on the grounds. Slowly though, she could see the manor come back to its former self. It was decorated tastefully, if rather old fashioned. Finally the week ended, the rest of the staff returning to their regular duties.

Everyone stood out at the front of the house though, when Travis drove the classic Lincoln limousine up. He opened the door and an umbrella tip emerged, acting as a walking stick. A top hat followed, revealing a monocled face that glanced at all of them. They all bowed or curtsied, Galina and Carissa finally being deemed serviceable in that aspect. She kept her eyes down, contemplating the face she had glimpsed. His nose wasn't as beaky as the papers liked to make it out to be, nor was he as fat as they reported.

Mainly he just looked tired.

"Bryant, those two?" Sir asked, gesturing with his umbrella toward them.

Bryant appeared at his side in an instant, "Miss Ramos and Miss Kirilova, the new maids we've hired."

They both curtsied.

"Galina, see these up to Sir's wardrobe." Bryant ordered, thrusting an overcoat and the top hat toward her once Sir had stepped inside. She took them, heading for the servant's stairs. The stairs connected to a series of small halls, hidden doors granting access to rooms. She'd quickly memorized the way up to the wardrobe. She brushed the coat, cleaned the hat, and placed them both back into one of the massive wardrobes that occupied the equally massive room. Beyond the actual door was Sir's bedroom, which she could hear was occupied. She quickly moved back into the servant's stairs, closing the door as Bryant came into the wardrobe. She listened, a muffled conversation occurring. There was a thud as the other door closed after they left. Galina moved back in, taking the dirty suit down to the laundry. After a brief dinner she went back up to her room, looking across the hall to Carissa's room.

She was so lucky, she didn't have to deal with a Rouge. All Carissa had to do was cut some carrots and season some soup. With a snort she shut her door, deciding that her bed looked all the more inviting for what she had dealt with that day.