Author's Notes: I can't promise this next chapter will be as smooth or charming as the last one, but I gave it my best effort. At least it continues the story.

Disclaimer: We are entering the "heart of darkness" known as the tavern, where men frequent to enjoy drinks and women. Be afraid.

It goes without saying that Seras got in a lot of trouble for assaulting a customer. Worse, she assaulted a man at arms during wartime; legally contracted to serve the monarch against foreign invadors. After the commotion died down and their captain's face was properly tended, the Wild Geese listened with glee as the tavern keeper chewed her out. His scolding was music to their ears, as well as his rejections of her attempted excuses.

"Seras, how many times do I have to tell you? I can't have you assaulting paying customers!"

"They're mercenaries! They don't have any money!"

"These men are legally contracted to serve our country, under direct service to our king!"

"He ain't my king," Seras grumbled in her native English.

"I hope that wasn't sass, young lady!" the tavern keeper retorted.

It was all fun and games until the tavern keeper told the girl that she would repay the Geese by serving them whatever they asked for, whenever they asked for it, and she was not allowed to shirk her responsibility onto the other girls. The Geese were alarmed until they realized she was only obligated to serve them if they called for her. If they called for another girl? Sure, she could ignore them. However, if they flagged her down for drinks, she had to bring them drinks. If they demanded food, she had to bring them food. If they demanded service while she was attending another customer, she had to finish promptly with said customer and go right over to them as soon as possible. No exceptions.

"You must be joking!" Seras cried.

The Geese had smirked and sniggered at this.

"Looks like we're going to become a whole lot closer over the season, eh, cher?" the captain leered, with a bloody steak draped over half his face.

Seras grimaced, and then pleaded with her boss. "Please! I'll make a terrible serving girl! Why don't you ask Giselle or Marionette to do to it? They like men in uniform!"

"Seras, this isn't the first time you've had problems with customers," he replied sternly, "You've got to learn to start getting along instead of making a mess and leaving other girls to clean up."

"But I've taken customers they didn't like!" Seras cried.

She wanted to explain that exchanging customers that some girls found odious was part of the job.

"Yes, but you never had to take a customer they bashed in the face."

"THAT WAS ONE TIME!"

"It's one thing to deal with a customer who makes unwanted advances at the counter," he continued firmly. "It's another to have to take a customer because another girl left him bloody and bruised."

"It's the same thing!" Seras cried, "He tried to assault me!"

"What?!" Pip barked, and then groaned when he moved his face too fast with the steak still pressed against it.

"Seras, I doubt any man is going to try anything here, in the bar, where everyone can see him."

"That's right!" Pip piped up.

"But –!"

"You're delusional, temperamental, and easily prone to violence. To be honest, I don't know why I haven't fired you already."

"But I—!" she cried, her expression pained and her faced flushed. She'd worked so hard since she got here!

"And if you refuse to serve any these mercenaries, I will refuse to give you any pay," he continued, with a voice and eyes that were iron.

"WHAT?!" Seras barked.

"Still don't understand? Well then, let me put this in words your simple English brain can understand," the tavern keeper sneered at Seras, "The price of every meal you don't serve them will come out of your pay. If you refuse to serve them outright, then I will refuse to pay you outright. And, considering what your wages are, and what your prospects are out there…" he smirked. "You won't be able to afford to refuse them for very long."

Seras' eyes went very wide, and her face very pale. She knew he would keep his word, and the thought of an empty purse and empty food sacks in the cold of winter chilled her to her very bone.

She glanced fearfully at the soldiers, who were all laughing and smirking from their tables.

"Looks like you've got to give us what-eeeever we want, cher!" their captain leered.

Seras hid her fear behind a veneer of rage. "SHUT UP! No one asked you!" she shouted.

They laughed.

As it was late and the captain's broken nose still needed to be mended, and another girl had already served their drinks while the tavern keeper chewed her out, they turned in for the night. The captain's nose had been broken before, but it still hurt like hell. The dislocated cartilage needed to be manually realigned to the nose bridge, and held together with a nose band. The entire area in and around the injury was bloody and bruised, and remained swollen and bruised for a week, and remained tender for weeks after.

"You're lucky it was a clean, external break," their medic said, "If she hadn't hit you from an angle, the way her wrist shot out, she could have jammed the cartilage right into your skull."

Despite his many years of experience in battle, Pip had shuddered at this. "What the fuck was her problem, anyway?" he scoffed.

From his perspective, the attack came out of nowhere. He had just been flirting and she had lashed out at him for no reason.

"Who can tell with women?" the medic sighed.

Since the girl remained hostile toward them and offered no hint of any apology or explanation beyond implying that "they" deserved it for being loudmouth soldiers and ruffians, neither Pip nor the Wild Geese felt very inclined to forgive her, or cut her any slack for it. They still found her incredibly beautiful and sexy, but also as high-handed and conceited as the rest of the townsfolk found her. As soon as they came down for breakfast the following morning, they wasted no time in lording their newfound power over her, and laughing at her expense.

Seras, for her part, found their mockery to be a confirmation that soldiers were no-good louts. From her perspective, he had tried to grab her without consent and then lorded his newfound power over her when she got in trouble for trying to defend herself. Soldiers; think they own everything. No respect for anything or anyone.

As there were still no rules on how nice Seras actually had to be to the mercenaries, a battle of wills soon broke out between the two.

Seras avoided serving them for as long as possible the following day. She tended to every other customer for as long as she could get away with, hoping the barkeep hadn't really meant she had to serve them. Or that they would get tired of waiting or call another girl so she wouldn't have to deal with them. To the Geese's increasingly loud and rude demands for service, she would repeatedly tell them that she was getting to them or to wait a while.

"Girl! We're starving over here!"

"Hold on!"

"We've been waiting for five minutes!"

"You can wait a little longer."

"Come on! What does it take to get service around here?!"

"Be patient. I'm getting to you."

"Seras!" the tavern keeper's wife finally snapped, "Don't keep the Wild Geese waiting!"

"FINE!" Seras snapped, and finally made her way over to them. She sighed with loud annoyance, though privately it was to steady herself from quivering. "What can I get for you?" she glared.

"One round of beers, cher," they replied.

Seras nearly popped a vein. "YOU MADE ME COME ALL THE WAY OVER HERE TO ASK FOR ONE ROUND?!"

"We wanted to make sure you got the order right."

"WHA-?!" Seras cried, flabbergasted. "Y… wha? Que? Q—wha...nnn!"

The Geese soon discovered to their amusement that Seras often struggled to come up with words when she got flustered. She was English born and raised, and had clearly not been speaking the French tongue for very long. Even at the best of times, she made short and simple statements, like a child, and often had to think about what she was going to say before she said it. But when she got angry or embarrassed enough, her mental filter turned off and she flat out struggled to come up with a single word or phrase, and often alternated between English and French.

Presently, Seras finally shouted: "I'm a waitress! It's my job to get simple orders right!"

The Geese smirked, "Well, apparently you aren't a very good one, if word of mouth is anything to go by."

Seras nearly did pop a vein at that, and she slammed her empty tray down on the table so hard it clattered. "FINE! I'LL GET YOUR BLOODY DRINKS!"

"Much obliged, cher!" the captain called after her as she stormed away.

Seras nearly roared with rage when they complained about the beer quality and made her take it back to get a new round.

The Geese laughed and sniggered at this. Her screams of rage and frustration were music to their ears, and they played her like a harpsichord.

Seras soon discovered to her chagrin that the Geese could make her job difficult in every way imaginable. They could not only make her come over to their tables during the busiest hours to give simple orders that they could have called from across the room ("You couldn't just say 'Another round' while I was carrying five dinner trays over to the Lebecks?!"), but they could also make the longest, most complicated orders of food just to trip her up.

Most of the men had little money and simple tastes, and so in any other establishment they would just order the same two or three dishes for every meal. But for the sake of annoying Seras, all two dozen or so men would order different dishes with different specifics each; one would order porridge while another would order hotcakes while another wanted eggs and bacon.

And, of course, if several men ordered the same dish, each one had to have its own peculiarities. This one had to have the eggs scrambled, that one rare, that one extra fried. This one had to have extra bacon instead of sausage and that one had to have cream with his porridge instead of butter. And if Seras ever got their orders mixed up or messed up, which she often did, she had to pick it up off the table and serve the right dish to the right man (rather than swapping them amongst each other), or take it back to the kitchen to get the order right.

"Lafayette! I'm sorry, but these hotcakes are supposed to have butter on the side, not bacon!"

"Again?! Damn, girl, when will you ever get these mercenaries' meals right?"

"Hey, YOU go out there, take their orders, and tell me how easy it is!"

And that's not even getting into the double-entendres the Geese could make with their food orders. Seras had worked at the tavern since she moved to the town three years before, and she had heard many dirty phrases in that time, but no one had ever been as bold, direct, or creative in their double-meanings as the Geese. Seras learned to her profound chagrin just how creative dirty-minded mercenaries could be with food she never even thought of as having a sexual nature; or at least, not that way.

"Eggs, sunny side up," one of the Geese said, "And make sure the whites are nice and moist; I like to see a pert yoke poking out of round, succulent egg white."

Seras covered her breasts with her empty tray and glared, "Would you like salmonella with that?"

The captain, who was leaning back in his chair with his boots on the table and his hat tipped over his face, laughed heartily at this. "Touché, mon cher."

Seras was confused by his mirth, as this was the first time he didn't laugh directly at her, and so she merely glared and walked away.

On top of finding double entendres for food that was not directly obvious to a naïve girl, Seras learned how aggressively they could drive home the entendres with well-knowns meaning. Cream, cheese and butter, three foods that her English heart adored, became odious to her. Seras couldn't even stand to eat bread with butter anymore, which used to be one of her meal staples. Just looking at it made her queasy, and if she tried to raise it to her lips, she would see their dirty faces leering at her, and she would be forced to lower it.

Of course, the Geese's perverted minds went further than mere double entendres, as they often told flat out dirty stories, jokes and songs. Again, Seras had heard many raunchy numbers in her years serving men in their personal cesspool of sin (called a "tavern," with drinks downstairs and women upstairs). However, as most small town men had only been with their wives, their neighbors' daughters and/or wives, and maybe the girls upstairs, their experiences were rather limited and unimaginative. The Wild Geese, on the other hand… had been to many exotic and filthy places, and picked up many exotic and filthy stories and songs, and learned quickly just how much they could torment the prudish Seras with them.

It was not at all uncommon to hear Seras screaming with rage or embarrassment, or outright fleeing the mercenaries' tables, or to see her rushing over to the tavern keeper to complain of things like, "SEXUAL HARRASSMENT!" and "THOSE FILTHY MERCENARIES ARE SINGING THIS DIRTY SONG!"

Usually it was the captain leading the charge. "I don't know what I've been told, but Nordic **** is mighty cold!"

"Mighty cold!"

"Good for you!"

"Good for you!"

"Good for me!"

"Good for me!"

"FILTHY PIGS!" she would screech.

Seras made it very clear she considered the Wild Geese mercenary unit a wretched hive of human depravity, and often responded accordingly.

People from upstairs could often hear the loud thump when Seras kicked the captain's chair out from underneath him.

"Keep your disgusting soldier hands away from me!"

"I told you! We are not soldiers! We are mercenaries!"

"Oh, that makes it so much better - touch me again and I will break you!"

"Oooh, which part? Sounds... intriguing..."

THUMP!

"OWW!"

It became something of a show for the regular patrons to see their resident prude fighting with the mercenaries. While Seras was obligated under pain of destitution to serve them whenever they called, she was free in how she could serve them, and so got back at them whenever and however she could.

The Geese discovered to their chagrin that there was no solid rule on how promptly Seras had to bring their orders to them, as long as it got there. As such, she often brought them substandard food and drinks, such as hot meals after they'd already turned cold or lukewarm, or beer from old, gritty crates rather than the freshly opened casks.

The Geese also had to pay for whatever meal they sent back, regardless of whether they touched it, so they soon discovered they had to eat whatever Seras gave them. This sobered up most of the Geese, who by and large decided they'd rather have a pleasant meal than annoy the waitress. Others sometimes felt it was worth it to get a substandard meal just to annoy Seras, or else they ordered from another waitress so they could ridicule her without consequence; but this decreased over time since Seras actually knew their ordering habits best, and their funds were limited, and they would rather spend what little they had on something delicious rather than something cold or gritty.

The only one who never to let up was their captain; to no one's surprise. It soon became rather common to see Seras and Captain Bernadotte arguing loudly over one thing or another, while his men looked nervously up from their meals or drinks.

"No, no, no, no! Stop! Stop that, right now!"

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm NOT running a tab for you!" Seras barked, holding their meals in a tray on high.

"Come on, all bars run tabs!"

"But not all bar hands accept them. You will pay with actual money or you will starve."

"Come on, you heard the inn-keeper, you have to serve us!"

"I only have to serve you to make money," Seras said, "The price of every meal I don't serve comes out of my pay, but if you don't pay anything, then I don't lose anything. And I'm not going to serve you if I don't make any money from your order!"

"I told you, we ARE paying! It's just meant to round up the bill to be paid for a later date."

"Right. 'Pay for later.' But who knows when later will be? Oh, right, you run up an impossibly high tab over several weeks until suddenly, 'oh, we've been drafted into battle and must leave town! So sorry, you can charge it to our military record,' which doesn't exist because you're bloody mercenaries! I know your types," Seras concluded, giving their captain the stink eye.

"Aw, come on!" Pip snapped, "I've met whores less stingy than you!"

"And that's why they're whores, rather than working honest jobs!" Seras retorted.

She paused, realizing that she'd unintentionally insulted the girls upstairs, who by and large had always been kind to her, and mentally resolved to apologize later.

"Of course it's an honest job. Honest service for honest pay. It's the oldest profession in the world!"

"Well, it's not a profession I'm ever taking up," Seras glared.

"Please, you think marriage is any different from prostitution, you little prude?"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not planning on ever getting married for financial means," Seras smiled wryly, "As long as I can work with my hands, what do I need with my legs?" She then slammed an open palm on the table, while the other kept the tray high above her head, and leaned in to glare into their captain's eye. "So you can keep your lousy credit and come back when you have solid cash for a solid meal."

"Frigid bitch!"

"Philandering bum!"

"Stick-in-the-mud!"

"Loose lips!"

He leaned in for a kiss, but Seras jerked back and flicked him on the nose, causing him to groan in agony.

Despite getting in trouble for hitting a mercenary in the first place, the Geese were shocked to discover that Seras was never seriously punished for lashing out again. Despite how deeply she got punished for breaking the captain's nose the first time, Seras continued to lash out at the Geese every time one of them tried to touch her, even if it was just to tap her to get her attention. While she was often scolded or reprimanded, most punishments rolled off her back.

"Ugh… that barmaid of yours gave me a black eye," one of the Geese complained to the tavern keeper's wife one day.

"Seras!" she called from behind the counter, "Don't ye go around giving patrons black eyes!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

The Geese stared.

"That's it?"

"Well, what'd ye' expect, grabbing 'er ass like that?" the tavern keeper's wife retorted.

"I don't know, I thought..."

"Ye know the girl's got a mean right hook and snaps like a trap, yet ye keep poking 'er anyway. If ye don't want 'er to keep smacking you, then maybe ye should stop grabbing 'er, eh?"

At least her employers supported Seras in this one small way.

The Geese eventually accepted this little quirk about Seras, and accepted violence as payment for tapping her beautiful rear.

Captain Bernadotte often grew so hot and bothered by his arguments with that beautiful, stubborn, infuriating, opinionated young woman that he felt he could just grab and kiss her. It was no secret that he wanted her (though it was hardly surprising since most men in town wanted her) and that if he had his way they would burst into a back room to have hot, steaming, furious sex all over the walls, tables and floors. Some nights he contacted the women upstairs for this reason, particularly after a nasty row with Seras (though not very often, as he enjoyed their company for their own sake) and burn off some steam. Such rendezvous did little to satisfy him though, since he could smell and taste the difference between these hard-living women and that clean, untouched maiden downstairs.

Of these nights and fantasies, Seras was naturally ignorant (though she would have been thoroughly unsurprised if she had known), as she spent her evenings cleaning up after hours, burning off her rage by scrubbing the tavern tables, floors and dishes. Oh, what she wouldn't give to scrub that arrogant grin off that smug face! And give him a nice punch in the nose for good measure!

However, to each other's faces they maintained a detached and professional relationship; one that involved bickering and insult-exchanging that only a prudish barmaid and erotic mercenary can do.

"Get your boots off the table," she would often say as she walked by.

"You're already scrubbing down the tables anyway, cher," he would reply, leaning further back.

"It still creates more work for me."

"You should be used to that by now."

"I won't say it again: Get. Off."

"With you? Gladly."

To this, she would either smack him with a dirty rag or kick the chair out from under him.

This was how Seras' first several weeks went in serving the Geese. She openly reviled them, looked for every excuse not to serve them, and took every opportunity to undercut them. The feeling was mutual, of course, and they too found every opportunity to embarrass and enrage her. What was a pure little thing like her doing working in a bar like this, anyway? If she didn't like all the dirty talk and songs, why didn't she find some other job? "That's none of your business!" Seras would screech. Well then, if she was going to keep working here, she should just get used to men being men.

"You're not men, you're soldiers!" Seras would retort, "Everything was just fine before you got here, and will be even better once you leave!"

"Ouch," the captain joked, "You wound me, cher."

"Good!"

The only men in the tavern that Seras openly disliked more than the Geese, if that was even possible, were the Valentine Brothers.

A regular due to his love of sinning, Jan frequented the tavern almost as much as the Wild Geese after dark. Since Seras was not obligated to serve him as she was the Geese, she would openly glare and avoid him as much as possible. None of the girls seemed to like him very much, as he was loud and rude and vulgar and made degrading comments that even the Geese didn't find very funny. He was often accompanied by some of the most depraved souls in town, playing cards and drinking and whoring for hours, making a generally unpleasant ruckus in an otherwise pleasant tavern. Any girl unlucky enough to serve them found themselves ruffled in a rather unpleasant way.

"Yo, Seras! Come over here and let me rub your titties for good luck!"

"How about I not?" she would glare as she kept walking.

"Aw, you gonna be like that? Think you're too good for us, you puckered up little pussy?"

To this she would pause, visibly seethe before taking a deep breath, and keep walking.

"Murder is a sin," she would mumble under her breath, "Murder is a sin... murder is a sin..."

Luke Valentine was both better and worse. A town celebrity for his hunting prowess, he often came in the tavern to hang trophies from his latest hunts and accept praise from excited onlookers. He often recounted stories of his conquests with flourish. While virtually everyone in the tavern clamored on his every word (except the Geese, but he tended to treat them like they didn't exist), the only resident who didn't care was the one he wanted; Seras Victoria.

While Seras was outwardly much more polite and agreeable to Luke than toward Jan or the Geese, internally she seemed much less at ease with him than with any of the others. As he often tried to find reasons to talk to her and woo her, she often tried to find reasons to get away from him. It was subtle, but whenever he came in, she would unintentionally hover near other customers' tables, and position herself so there were chairs and tables between them.

Luke was always touching her. Whenever he would try to recount the glorious tales of his mighty conquests, he would sling an arm around Seras' shoulder or waist, to which she would look visibly uncomfortable and try to shake him off. To this, he would squeeze tighter and speak louder, as though trying to drown her will with his. Seras was visibly uninterested in his stories and conquests, but he never seemed to notice or understand. And since she worked in the tavern most days and he visited quite often, she could hardly get away from him, which seemed to wear at her patience.

"Mr. Valentine, I really don't want to hear how you slaughtered a family of wolves in their own den," Seras said on day.

"Family? Oh Seras…" he dismissed condescendingly, "first of all, it's called a 'pack of wolves.' They don't have families. Secondly, they're evil creatures that devour livestock and innocent travelers. I've done the world a favor by being rid of them."

"And yet the mother tried to defend her young, which by your own volition…" Seras trailed off, her eyes sad and averted.

To the discerning eye, she looked greatly distressed, and covered her mouth with one hand while she tried to blink back tears.

Luke scoffed. "Seras, that naïve heart of yours is truly precious, but you need not waste your pity on bloodthirsty monsters."

"Indeed? Well, I wish I could dismiss mine as easily as you do yours…" she said, and walked away. "I have work to do."

"Where could you possibly be going? I still haven't finished explaining how I tracked the boar yet."

"Mr. Valentine, I have customers to serve and tables to clear."

Luke laughed. "Seras, if you wanted time off, you only need to say so!"

"That's not what I-"

"I'm very close with the tavern keeper. I know he won't mind you taking time off with your job to talk to me!"

"Mr. Valentine, I really-"

"Oi, cher!" Pip called, "We need another round!"

Seras seemed visibly relieved, and took her leave of Luke. "Sorry, I have to serve them when they call. Farewell."

A flash of rage lit up in his eyes as quick as lightning, then he agreed with his most charming smile that work must come first.

"Of course, I shall see you later tonight," he said, "Once your shift ends, I'll be able to tell you how I tracked the turtle dove."

"Oh joy," Seras said.

Seras never looked quite at ease as when she drew near the Wild Geese's table.