Bus boy, bartender, ladies of the night
Grease monkey, ex-junky, winner of the fight
Walkin' on the streets it's really all the same
Sellin' souls, rock 'n' roll, any other day - Workin' for a Livin' by Huey Lewis and The News
Royan spread out before us, and all I could think was that if the sign had been any indication, it had not been spared when France had decided to wipe itself from the world scene. It was almost like time had gone backward. There was a dock, but I seriously doubted if they'd ever even seen an airship. I repressed a sigh as we moved in tandem down the cart track that led to the once prosperous city.
The sun was sinking, though the rain that had been threatening all day had come as well, washing everything a dull, sullen grey. The blanket, sodden to the point of pointlessness, was wrapped around our heads in an attempt to stay dry. Finding that Katsuki could not fly in the rain had caused us to lose time. The last few hours had been the worst; we were cold, hungry, and tired to the bone.
The gates of the village were closed, a young woman with curling red hair, an umbrella, and a large rifle guarding them. She watched us for a little while, and then must have come to the conclusion that we weren't going to cause trouble as she walked out to meet us. She stopped just ahead of us with a tremendous frown, her shotgun held at the ready.
"[Stop. Who are you? Where are you from?]"
It was rapid-fire French and I puzzled over it for a beat or two before answering, "[We are lost. Do you speak English?]"
"A little," she switched, now speaking as slowly as I had, "Who are you? Where are you from?"
Katsuki opened his mouth, but closed it with a grunt when she turned hostile eyes on him. "I'm..." We'd prepared a few lies that we hoped would conceal our identities, and had decided that we could try being escaped slaves caught in the Protectorate. It happened just enough to be plausible. Except we'd practiced this with Katsuki doing the talking for us, his English being believable, at least. "My name is Sara, and this is my husband. We're from the Protectorate."
"Protectorate?" She tried the word out, "Ireland? Is that right?"
"Yes, but we're Scottish. We were kidnapped and brought here, we escaped with little but the clothes on our back. Can you help?"
Her eyes narrowed again as she looked us over. She lingered on Katsuki, and I wondered if we'd somehow wandered into a village of Valkyrie or Amazons. If I'd been less beaten by our day, I might have laughed. She turned around abruptly, and started back to town.
"We are not a..." She paused, "a charity," she seemed pleased. "But we have an Inn for travelers. Armand always has some work that you could do toward a room and food."
We had no choice now but to follow her though the gates. As they swung open, we saw that the town wasn't as terrible as it had seemed. There were homes, all neat, if slightly wild looking. There were many left unpainted, yards given over to gardens that were more scarecrow than crop this time of year. Dogs manning every few porches, barking at the strangers. An Inn of three stories stood next to what I took to be a restaurant, large bay windows bright in the gloom.
My mouth watered shamefully at the sight of patrons eating and laughing. I smiled at Katsuki who stared at a platter and the pretty young woman delivering food. I elbowed him sharply, and he shrugged before linking his hand with mine. We had a performance of our own to pull off.
"My name's Charlotte Desmarais." She proffered a hand toward me, still oddly snubbing my 'husband'. I took it, and she continued, "If you're on the run, I suggest telling no one your business, and leaving as soon as you can. Winter is a hard time for us by the sea, and people may do things they wouldn't usually."
"Thank you, Charlotte, we'll be on our way in the morning." I let her hand go, and Katsuki turned to go into the Inn, but I paused. "We need to get to a radio, is there one in town?"
Charlotte's eyes nervously darted, "No. We did, but now, it's not safe. The other towns." She hefted her gun, "You understand?"
"Sorry. I get it."
"Keep your husband close. We've been raided before, and the men..." She shook her head, "Never mind. God keep you."
Katsuki
I left Ochaco to talk to that strange red-head, taking careful note of the Inn. It was sound, the building had thick walls that didn't look too badly weathered. Inside, an old electric candelabra had been re-purposed to hold real candles, though it was obvious that the place had at least limited electricity. A few stand lamps were shining too brightly to be mere candle power.
Behind a thick counter stood the man I took to be Armand, the owner of the Inn. Though we were hardly alone. A few tables were arranged around a fireplace that was crackling merrily, sending tiny sparks soaring though the chimney. Just seeing it made me feel better, and I wanted nothing more than to hang this blanket up to dry and then join the other men drinking at the fire-side tables.
"[Welcome, stranger. What can I do for you?]" Armand's smile was reserved, but the man looked to be on the friendly side.
I brushed the hair out of my face, making his smile disappear at the sight of my eyes. I'd learned early on to make people fear you first and they'd be less likely to try to take advantage of you. "I don't speak Fran-swas?"
"Ah, yes," Armand's smile came back, though it was smaller even then it had been. He scratched his fingers through longish brown locks, tucking the ends behind his ear. "English is fine." Ochaco came in, closing the wide door behind her, and flashing the man a bright smile which in turn seemed to undo my mild intimidation as Armand's smile deepened, "Ah, Lady! Sir, how can I help you?"
"We need a room for tonight, we will be leaving in the morning."
Armand chuckled, "You can have my best rooms for the price of the worst! You're probably going to be my only clientele needing a room until Spring. Which brings me to the next question: How would you like to pay?"
I dug into my pocket, the three credits felt like coals. I withdrew them, "I have a couple of credits, but Charlotte seemed to think we might be able to barter work."
Armand scratched though his hair again, his blue eyes looking off into space before he spoke slowly, "Well..." He shook his head, "Its winter, so anything I need doing has been done as much as they could be done. Though..." He smacked his thin lips together, "I have a boiler that I don't know how to perform the upkeep on. Do you know anything about boiler systems?"
Ochaco looked gutted, but I brightened. "I've worked with boilers before," I hedged, "I'll look at it for a bite to eat for my wife and I. If I can perform your maintenance I want that room. Sara?"
"Baths? A place to hang our blanket? A tailor?"
"Tell you what, young man, you get my boiler all tuned up, and you can have it all. I'll even let you have your food before you even look."
"They at least need a place to dry their things, Armand," said a new voice. "Son, if you can't help, I'll stand good for you to sleep in the boiler room, alright? It's warm and dry down there regardless."
"If you say so, Father," replied Armand with a shrug. "You won't get a fairer offer than that. What did you say your name was?"
"I'm David." I held out my hand and we shook on our agreement.
"Thank you, sir. We really appreciate it." Ochaco smiled at the man who'd offered to stand for us.
He smiled at us, his face was weathered and browned by lots of time spent outside, and his smile had a gap from a missing tooth, but it was warm and genuine, "It's my pleasure child." He patted the seat next to him, and Ochaco dropped into it without a second thought while I tried to figure out his angle. "Young man, David, please sit. You won a free meal and this is the best fireplace in town."
I sat and the old man drank in silence while Ochaco regained her feet to stand right by the fire and rub her hands gratefully. I studied him. "Why are you being so helpful?"
He raised white eyebrows, thick as caterpillars, "Suspicious one, eh? Though what brought you here with the first winter storm had to be bad luck indeed. I suppose I don't blame you." He took a drink from his mug, "Armand is a lot of things, and he is a bit of a soft touch, but he's trying to make his way in this world as well as anyone. As for me, I'm a wandering priest. I was around before the war, and I still have charity in my heart. Enough for two young ones. Far from home. And troubled, unless I miss my guess?"
"No," I replied. He'd hit the nail on the head, "Thank you Father."
"神はあなたに私の息子を保つ" He looked at me closely, and added, "神道は国教です?"
I answered without thinking in my native tongue, "Yes, but my parents were Christians, and it just stuck." I scrubbed a hand though my hair, then realized what had happened, "What the hell? How did you know? I'll do a lot I might not usually do to keep her safe, Father. Tell me."
He smiled again, "Calm down, son. It's my quirk. Though Japanese was a tougher one for me to learn, I did. I said I was a wandering priest, didn't I?"
Ochaco sat down, her brown eyes reflecting worry and the leading edge of fear, "Do we need to leave? What's happening?"
"Quirk?" I laughed though the tension, for the moment ignoring Ochaco, "Old man, you're too old to have a quirk."
"So says science, but I have little use for them, as little as they with me these days. Believe what you like, but what language am I speaking? Do I have an accent?" He ran strong, blunt nailed fingers over his chin, "I also sing like an angel. I think that's my quirk too, modulation or some such. Well?"
I deliberately switched to English to regain our cover, "Sure, Father, say I believe you. How did you guess?"
"I can listen to anyone speak, whatever language they're speaking, and if it's not yours there's always signs, even for someone ungifted to find. For me, I hear those markers, not even I know what they are, or how I know. Just if I know that language, I am always right." The priest rolled his now empty mug between callused palms, "If you must continue arguing where people can hear us, may I suggest waiting until after your dinner?"
Rich scents of some kind of meat stew wafted near by, and Armand was there, setting down two bowls and a thin loaf of hot, crusty bread. "When you're finished, the boiler room is in the basement. Just let me know. I can take your blanket, and hang it in there as well."
I handed him the dripping textile, and he took it like I'd handed him a dead rat. I inwardly shrugged, the thing did look rather drowned. Ochaco sat and pressed just four fingers together whispering 'itadakimasu' under her breath. I did the same, and we ate the stew. It was thick with potatoes, carrots and what I thought might be rabbit. In any case, it was hot, filling, and very good.
I sipped at the brew that was set before us, I'm not really used to ale, but it was cold and available, so, I drank it, making sure that it lasted for the entire bowl. There was no way I was going to allow myself to get even the slightest bit buzzed. I had to fight Ochaco for my half of the baguette, and it was just as welcome as the stew had been. I signaled Armand and he dry washed his hands while I stood.
"I'm ready for your boiler." I sighed, my bones already creaky with the need to sleep. "No promises." I turned to Ochaco, "Go ahead and go to the tailor. Please be back quick."
She nodded, and I turned to follow the pudgy Innkeeper down the stairs into the basement. The boiler was there, an older model, maybe installed just before France announced it's withdrawal from the world. It was a rather simple fan-assisted boiler, and if I couldn't run a maintenance on it, it was because they didn't have parts or chemicals.
"Here she is," Armand smiled at the boiler that seemed to be in fine order, "most men with anything like a science or technology background left the outlying cities early." He dipped into his pocket for a handkerchief, dabbing his forehead before stuffing it back. "What do you think?"
"Technology has gotten away from you." I examined the controls, a basic keyboard and switch affair, it was fairly easy to understand, even written as it was in French. I checked the read outs, "I'm going to need you to open the vents all the way on the roof. They'll be black pipes with a little vapor blowing out..." I gave Armand a list of things to do while I located and hooked up the hoses to replace the water.
I was still working on getting the alkaline rating to optimal when Ochaco came back with an arm load of clothing and a jacket that looked like it had been lined with real fleece. She watched me curiously for a moment before coming over. Her keen eyes betraying a true desire to know something.
"What are you doing?"
I lifted my brows, "How'd you manage to get all that shi- stuff?"
"I wasn't searched, and the only thing Himiko took were my pins and earrings." Her hand went up to the ears, now just four drilled holes in the cartilage to tell that there used to be jewelry there. Her face fell a bit, "Anyway, the tailor is going to go to Paris in the Spring. Apparently word came down with traders that some people want to bring France back, set up a government. She wants to be the clothier for New France!" She lightened up as she giggled at that, "I had 20 credits, and she took them for a new set of underwear, long johns, a cute sweater, jeans and the coat." Ochaco flipped though the bundle, "And boxers for you, too."
"Damn!" I threw up my hands, "Boxers? You shouldn't have." I couldn't stop my sarcasm. She had 20 credits and those damned pins? She should have been able to buy me a change of clothes too.
She noticed, "Hey, I did my best. You should be glad she wanted those credits, because she didn't want my pins! She couldn't be convinced that 20 was actually a lot! It's not like we've got a suitcase, and we're just sleeping here to wait for the next transport to Edinburgh!"
I swizzled the ph stick in the boiler's holding tank, and gave up. I could have gone, but could I have done better? These people had little idea what the world was like outside their walls. "The boiler is done, and Armand left the keys to his so-called bridal suite on the switchboard over there. As soon as I get her turned back on, we can take baths in their bathhouse." It was a sullen delivery, but the best I could manage with her lecture still ringing in my ears.
She took my apology for what it was and snatched up the keys, "Does it have more than one bed?"
"No, it's the bridal suite, and he wanted us to enjoy every comfort while we were here." I couldn't fight back the blush I could feel crawling up my neck and pinking my ears, "I'll sleep on the floor."
"We'll talk about it." She smiled, "You're not in the dog house yet. I'll wait for you upstairs. If I fall asleep, wake me. I really, really want a bath."
AN/ This chapter is dedicated to my step-dad, a real-life boiler engineer. I hope it's ship shape. (LOL I've been out of the house for a long time, and I'd be so embarrassed to tell my dad what I do for fun/torture) Katsuki mispronounces français on purpose because he's being a dick. The kanji reads 'God keep you my son.' 'Isn't Shinto the state religion?'
