"Thank you mister Branwen. Do you need anything else?" Russet nervously eyed his customer, noting the hip flask and drunken demeanor of the Mr. Branwen. I hope he doesn't trash the place again.
"No thank you. Although, I should probably ask you the same question, shorty." With this, Russet's searched for meaning in Mr. Branwen's face. "Russet Prague, have you ever gotten into a fight?"
Russet stuttered for a moment. "Sir, I… I don't think so, I mean, I had to help stop you from trashing the shop, but never anything that crazy." He reached under the counter, grasping for a water bottle to help cool his blushing face.
"You didn't seem the type. Never did understand Ozpin much. Either of the old folks hunters?" Mr. Branwen leant over the counter, exhaling a gust of boozy breath into Rus's face. Russet looked at the roof above him, imaging his parents trying to fight off the monstrous Grimm, or even a hooligan.
"No sir. They've both worked in this town for as long as they can remember." Russet nervously backed away from the counter as he said this, stumbling over his own feet.
Mr. Branwen leant away from the counter, resting his back against the thin wall. The shop seemed to lighten, as if a dark cloud had just passed. "Well, then. Orders are orders, I suppose. Ozpin wanted me to give you this." Mr. Branwen quietly slid an envelope with the official seal of Beacon combat academy over the counter.
Russet set his hand down on the envelope, feeling the silken material. "I'll be sure to give this to my parents when they wake up." He began to put the envelope in his pocket, but Mr. Branwen reached across the counter and held his arm.
"Nah-ah. It's for you. And you're going to open it right now." His grip was strong, and he kept his eyes locked with Russet's. Russet jumped at his touch.
"W-why? It's not like Ozpin would know about me." Russet tried to pull away, but Mr. Branwen's grip was firm.
"Apparently he does." Mr. Branwen kept his hold on Russet's arm, but slowly loosened his grip. As he did, Russet set the strange envelope back onto the counter.
"What's inside?" Russet kept his hands away from the envelope once it was on the counter, like he feared it would burn him. "What does this have to do with me?"
"Well, I can hardly tell you. Sometimes you gotta take the dive and accept the consequences, kid." With this, Mr. Branwen withdrew his hand from Russet's arm.
Russet slowly opened the envelope, peeling the seal off delicately. The paper crinkled as he did, the only thing audible aside from the soft crackling of the nearby torches and the two of them softly breathing.
Russet drew the letter out of the envelope, making sure not to tear the it in the process. As he slowly unfolded the letter, a small smile crept across Mr. Branwen's face. Russet read it slowly, mouthing the words as he did.
Suddenly, Russet dropped it on the floor, gasping. "I… I… what?" He recoiled from the dropped letter and envelope. "Mr. Branwen, are you drunk?" Russet slipped his hand under the counter, searching for the bell to wake his parents.
"Not this time kid. Ozpin wants you in Beacon Academy, in some sorta transfer program. Told me to deliver this letter myself. Pack your bags, we're leaving in the morning."
Russet stood for a second, dumbfounded. "Listen kid, either you're going upstairs and packing your bags or I'm draggin you to Beacon myself. Tonight." Mr. Branwen locked eyes with Russet again, standing on his two feet. Russet noticed his drunken demeanor had faded.
With this, Russet looked up towards his sleeping mother and father once again. He thought of how they had raised him never to get into trouble, and always avoid strangers. Mr. Branwen lightly punched his arm, shocking Russet back into reality. "Now, Prague. Oh, and, load up a couple of bottles of that Valesian Black. I've got a feeling this is going to be a long trip."
Russet carefully backed away from the counter, then bolted up the stairs to his room.
