"Welcome to Moriarty's, smoothskin; can I get you a drink? Anything?" asked a gravelly voice.

A pair of hazel eyes averted to the source of the voice as she approached. He was a ghoul: he had sallow and jagged skin, and pieces were missing. What little hair left on top of his crown looked like a matted halo. He was in a slightly hunched-over position which signified a low self-esteem and overall detachment from people. In other words, he wasn't a sight for sore eyes. She had heard about his kind—word of mouth. She never had the opportunity to encounter one. Despite his words, his eyes quickly moved from her face and stared down timidly, awaiting a verbal or physical attack from her. To his surprise, she hadn't done any of the sort; she simply rubbed the back of her head and closed an eye.

"Uhh…." her voice drawn out the vowel. This, of course made him feel nervous, especially with Moriarty in the vicinity.

"I'm sorry, that was probably rude of me. I…just can't decide. What do you suggest?"

"…You're not going to hit me or berate me?" he asked incredulously. She could see him tensing up.

"…Wha—no!" she replied, equally incredulous. Her eyes widened.

"Th-that's a surprise…most of the asshole smoothskins are always giving me shit around here. But it's a relief to see a friendly face," he cracked a crooked attempt of a smile. "But anyway, if I had to suggest something…I'd suggest, uh…the… whiskey—I'll even risk a discount for you, even though Moriarty'd probably kill me for it…" he whispered the last bit.

"I'll take the whiskey then, my good sir," she took a seat across from where he was standing behind the counter.

He twitched. It was obvious that he wasn't accustomed to someone treating him like a regular human being, much less care about his opinion. Warmth settled in his chest. Even if she wasn't there for long, he'd savor the kindness forever. Even amidst those fleeting thoughts, he hurriedly got her order of whiskey and set it atop a coaster right in front of her. The young woman paid him the bottle caps required. "Thanks, sir,"

"Anytime, friend," he said as warmly as his marred vocals could muster.

She took a sip from the alcoholic contents—instantly, the burning sensation flooded into her chest like a bothersome leak.

Although he wasn't supposed to, his pale, glazed-over eyes crept up to perceive her features. There was no doubt in his mind that she transcended the threshold of mediocrity. No, she was beautiful. She had a small, button-like nose, long, doll-like lashes and well-coiffed silvery-blonde hair. He didn't even want to get started on her physique. To be simply put, she was perfect. It made him a little sad, that someone like her would never look twice at someone like him; no matter how "nice" she was. That was the reality of it. Gob was tugged away from conflicting train of thoughts by a loud set of coughs, which caused his shoulders to jump. "You alright, smoothskin?" he asked, making the mistake of looking her in the eye. Before she could answer, a thick accent resounded about the bar.

"Motherfucking GOB! The fuck you think yer doing?"

"M-Mr. Moriarty, I…"

"You talk so goddamn much! Yer gonna' scare away my fucking customers and I'll just have to fuck ya' up again—"

"He wasn't scaring anybody away. He was being a great patron actually," the young woman interjected.

"Hehe…ya' don't have to take up for that fucking zombie, princess, if he's troubling ya', ya' let me know," he smiled at her and then glared warningly at Gob. This caused him to flinch, because he knew this meant trouble later.

"I actually came here for another reason," she responded.

"What can I do for ya'?" Moriarty asked.

"I came here for employment. I mean, if you don't have a slot or something then…"

Gob could feel his chest swell with hopefulness. With her being there, it would make waking up every day well worth it. Nova was great company, too, but…

Moriarty sifted his fingers through his gray beard in thought. "I suppose I could use a pretty little lass like you to spike more business in this place,"

He could see her eyes light up.

"What's yer name, love?"

"Holly,"

"Alrigh', Holly, we'll set ya' up with a room and you can get started first thing tomorrow. Gob'll give ya' the rundown," he said. The youth could see the excitement in his eyes. She would definitely be a new business asset. Perhaps…another arrangement could be proposed soon enough.

"Thank you, Mor…"

"Moriarty, love," he corrected.

"Yeah," she took another sip of her whiskey.

Holly…what a beautiful name… he thought to himself. It wasn't like him to be so stuck on a human like that. At least he'd have something beautiful to gaze at from afar, and that was plenty.

Business was a bit slow that day. Holly hung about, watching the few customers come and go. A woman with short brown hair approached her. "Heard you were the new recruit, Nice to see another vagina around here. This place is usually a sausage fest. I'm Nova," She placed her hand on her hip.

"Nice to meet you, Nova, I'm Holly,"

"You'll notice some days that Moriarty is a little…how do I put it in words..? Dicky? But don't take it too personal, he's like that with everybody. Well, he's especially hard on Gob. He starts out sweet, but wait till it wears off and he gets comfortable," she casted cursory glances at Moriarty to see if he was looking at her or listening in, then averted her attention back to Holly.

"That's great to know," she answered lackadaisically.

"Damn radio ain't workin' again…" Gob grumbled and banged on it with the side of his fist.

"Here we go again…" Nova sighed. "Gob, give it up—it isn't the radio, it's the signal. Banging on it isn't going to help it." She shook her head.

A male customer walked in and Nova quickly moved to get his attention. After a few words, she went off with him. Holly ascertained that Nova was, in fact a prostitute. It got her to wonder what compelled her to take up such profession.

Finally, the whiskey was no more than a mere memory in that tiny cup. Since Moriarty had stepped out as business was lacking this evening, she paced about the bar to become more acquainted as Gob busied himself wiping the counters with a dirtied rag.

"So…where'd you come from?" Holly asked, turning her head to glance over at Gob.

"The Underworld—underneath the city of D.C. City of ghouls just like me. Came outside to make something of myself and I ended up in this shithole..."

"That old man seems like a needless dick,"

"Big time. I try not to cause too much trouble, or he'll kick my ass," he said in a calm voice.

"Ugh. You shouldn't be accustomed to that kind of treatment,"

"I'm working to pay off my debt—but it doesn't help that I am charged room and board, too. But yeah, I'm used to it. I guess he gives me all of this shit 'cause I look like a corpse. 'S not like I asked to be a ghoul…" he sighed.

She could hear the sadness in his voice. One did not need to be rocket scientist to know he had been verbally and physically abused by his employer. Her lips formed a frown.

He wasn't looking at her, this time. God forbid Moriarty caught him staring at her. At least she was here, now. This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him—for the first time in fifteen years.

"I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have gotten into your personal business…" Holly looked down. "Gob…"

"It's alright, friend. You didn't do anything wrong,"

"Please, call me Holly,"

"Alright…Holly," he stopped himself from saying her name with too much gusto.

"So, what do you do on your free time?" she asked.

"I don't really have much free time…I'm always holed-up in this dive,"

"We need to change that,"

"Sorry, smoothskin, I don't really have a choice, and even if I did, I couldn't afford to do that,"

"Moron-arty's got you on a tight leash. I have a feeling that he and I are going to bump heads…"

Such a nickname she had given his evil bastard of an employer. If anything, a curt chuckle escaped him. He wished he had the zeal she did. Then again, she was in a better position than he was. Not to be mistaken, he wasn't looking for a Knight in Shining Armor, but it would be nice to see someone sticking it to Moriarty every once in a while. Even if it resulted in his annoyance being taken out on him (as his anger usually was) in the long run, it would be worth it.

The night wore on. Moriarty decided to close the bar earlier and put Gob to clean the spilled booze.

"Y-yes Mr. Moriarty," he moved with haste.

"And hurry the fuck up! I'll be back to check. Anything out of line and yer gonna' to wish you were never born!" he stomped off into the back.

Holly's lip curled with disgust. She stood up and reached over the counter.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Gob asked.

"I'll help you clean,"

"If Mr. Moriarty sees you doing the work, he'd skin me alive, and I barely have any to begin wi—"

"We're doing it together,"

"You drive a hard bargain, smoothskin."

"Holly," she corrected.

He turned his back to her wipe one of the tables with his rag. He smiled to himself. "Yeh, Holly…"

She mopped up the alcohol that spread the floor. Some of the people went out of their way to be assholes and spill excess onto the floors and tables to give poor ol' Gob more work. Something had to change while she was here. His physical appearance, admittedly might take a bit to grow accustom to, but his personality? It was superb.

When Moriarty returned and performed an inspection and deemed the scutwork to be passable enough, Gob went toward his sleeping quarters.

"Sleep well, as tomorrow is yer first day, sleeping beauty," said Moriarty with a smile. "Yer gonna' need it.

"Yeah, thanks…"

As she passed him by, she could feel a light slap settling across her backside. Her brows furrowed. She'd let this one slide. After all, what use was it getting fired before her first day?

Holly went to one of the washrooms and began removing her clothes. The moment the last piece had been peeled away from her, the door knob was being tampered with, to which she quickly turned and before she could speak, the door had opened. It was a shirtless Gob. Much like she had gotten an eyeful, he had gotten tenfold. Pale optics widened and he froze like a Brahmin in front of a flamethrower.

"I'm sorry! Don't hit me!" he exclaimed.

"A-ah…! It's okay. I should've locked the…" the door quickly shut. "…door."

Her cheeks heated up. Something like that was hard to let go.

Eventually, she changed into her sleeping clothes and found her place in one of the bedrooms (which would come out of her funds).

Gob was hesitant to go back to the bathroom after what happened, but when it seemed safe enough, he prepared a bath and relaxed in the lukewarm water for a small while. He could still smell her scent lingering the tiny lavatory—it had to be some sort of fruit he'd never seen or heard of before. But, he liked it all the same. The image burned so clear in his head—her round, supple breasts, pink perky nipples and her thighs were full. They looked soft. She looked soft. Not that he knew what a human woman actually felt like, given how repulsed by him they were. The way her blonde hair cascaded over her upper body made her like rainfall only added fuel to his resolve. Damn, his photographic memory. An amatory tingle worked up his midsection and coursed down to his lower quarters. His eyes averted to his other half, which came as a surprise—there it was, erect, underneath the water. The region where his brows used to be furrowed. He almost felt…ashamed to think about her in such a way. It was hard to block out the thoughts; the thoughts containing him relentlessly ravaging her body. Just as he was about to become a slave to his self-induced lust, a violent banging on the door ensued.

"Get out of the fuckin' bathroom, ya' rotting fuck!" Moriarty shouted.

"Yes, Mr. Moriarty,"

It was a nice thought. He gotten from his brief bath and got dressed for bed. Upon leaving, he received one slap aside the back of his head. "Who ya getting pretty fer?" Moriarty asked.

"I wasn't—"

"Then don't be takin' long baths 'round here. Besides, nobody wants to mate with a rotting piece of shit."

Usually, this wouldn't bother Gob as much, but this time around, it did; especially since he already knew his chances with Holly were hopeless.

When he passed by her room, he paused for a moment. Silently, he ruminated how she might have looked sleeping soundly, snuggling between a blanket, without a care in the world. He envied her free spirit. To avoid another "run-in" with Moriarty, he went to his room and closed the door. Once he got into bed, he lied on his back, placing his hands behind his head, glancing at the ceiling. The very thought that he'd see her pretty face in the morning brought a smile to his face. He closed his eyes and eventually drifted off into a deep sleep. He couldn't wait.

A/N: I know it's a bit slow. Should pick up soon, however!