Coins jingled as they were dropped against the wooden countertop, scraping against the weathered surface as they were eagerly swept into an open palm.
"Thank you, thank you for your kind patronage!" The barmaid said, all smiles as she discreetly pocketed the tip. "If you're looking for entertainment, there's a performance out at the back I'd recommend!"
The pale humanoid the girl was addressing nodded curtly and ignored the rest of her formalities, stepping with a brisk tread out of the bar. Once the customer was gone the barmaid's smiled dropped; she turned around and quickly counted her prize. With a sigh of satisfaction she pocketed the money again, pausing to tuck a stray strand of her dull blue-grey hair into its proper place–and then fastidiously check the rest of her hairdo- before wiping the countertop with a rag in preparation for the next customer.
"Hey, girl."
The barmaid didn't look up at the familiar voice of the bar owner, because there were easily a dozen other girls working in this place for some money and she hadn't gotten into trouble lately-
"Hello, talkin' to you here- 'ey! Wisteria! Look up, wretch!" Wait, the voice was coming from across the counter. The barmaid turned her eyes upward, her gaze a lighter and prettier shade than her hair, catching passively the stare of the bar owner.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, lass. Don't just stand there- take a seat! …I just wanted to thank ya for the help- and of course, all the business your weird troupe of friends are bringin' me." The burly bar owner quirked a smile as a wave of clapping echoed from a back room of the bar. "Don't think those 'vamps have seen anything remotely like a circus before- don't tell 'em I said that!"
Wisteria nodded agreeably. "Of course not. That would compromise both of us."
"So I was wondering, would you be willing to work here some more? Your weird friends could permanently get that room at the back-"
"-will you be paying me?"
The bar owner was surprised by the sudden interruption. "Uh…well…not really…you know how hard it is to make a living nowadays, and you're really well off anyway with all the tips…"
Wisteria raised an eyebrow sceptically. "And will you still be charging rent for that performance room?"
"…I've already cut the price down to the bone, lass, it can't go no lower."
The barmaid stared at the counter for a while, silent except for the occasional 'hmm.' When she looked up, her expression wasn't optimistic. "Then unfortunately, no. We don't have the funds or resources to stay long, and besides I've recently found better paying jobs."
Catching the bar owner's disappointed expression, Wisteria hastily continued; "but… perhaps I might approach you again in the future? You'll never know what might happen…would that be a longstanding offer or one just for tonight?"
"Oh, do come by whenever you can. My bar will always welcome your troupe." The bar owner replied, smiling a bit again. Another wave of cheers came from the back room and customers began to leave; most seemed satisfied with the performance that had just ended.
I think your bar simply welcomes the extra customers and extra money, sucker; Wisteria thought before she rose to join her friends in the back room.
"From what I heard outside the audience seemed to enjoy it;" Wisteria remarked, looking down at a piece of scrap paper she was scribbling on with a pencil stub.
"Of course they did." Another person replied, lounging on one of the two beds fitted snugly into the medium-sized hotel room. The room itself wasn't too bad, with dull cream walls, two beds that weren't filled with lice (for once), and a small bathroom to be shared with the next room's occupants.
He turned to lie on his back, aqua blue hair splaying out on the grey bedsheets as he stared wistfully at the featureless ceiling with cerulean eyes. "We're the best of our profession, right? Or at least, we used to be."
This statement evoked a sigh from many occupants of the room.
"Stop hogging the bed, Wallace." Ignoring Wallace's yelp of surprise, the man that had spoken aimed a second unceremonious kick that sent the aqua-haired Wallace back to the edge of the bed. With another sigh, the man adjusted his red tie and joined Wallace in inspecting the ceiling, tearing his blue-green eyes away from the worn case on his belt. The one that held eight rusty badges and a broken collar pin that read Champion. "How the mighty have fallen."
"You're unusually depressed today, Steven." A female voice teased, its owner reclining on the edge of the other bed. Golden locks pooled on the bed around her, and even though her fringe curled elegantly over one eye –covering it entirely- the lady didn't seem to mind. "Weren't you the Champion that resigned from his post long before this whole disappearing-Pokémon-Lamia-invasion episode? Regretting that decision now, or has Wallace's dramatism finally rubbed off on you?"
The lady's comment triggered a short bout of laughter throughout the room. It was temporary, but at least it eased up the tension and sadness for a while. The loudest laugher was a plain-looking girl with brown hair, tangling herself further in the cape she wore in her fit of mirth.
"Cynthia!" Steven groaned in exasperation, although there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Don't laugh like that, Zilyana- you look stupid, and like you're one to laugh." The silver-haired man –who was, indeed, the only ex-Champion in the group- vented his 'anger' on his successor Wallace, sending the aqua-haired man tumbling to the floor with a third kick. Wallace was still laughing.
Wisteria scrambled out of the way with her scrap of paper, fighting back giggles.
The door opened, and a teen quietly slipped in –clothed in dark fabric from head to toe, he moved to Wisteria and urgently whispered in her ear. Wisteria glanced at her piece of paper with a raised eyebrow, wrote down something and stared at it again, her smile deepening to a frown.
"Hey guys, I've got bad news."
The room quietened down. When Wisteria had bad news, it was usually bad news.
"You know how this place is quite an expensive place? Well, we did make quite a bit so far, but I still don't think it's enough to pay the rent and get us food and all that. Especially now that Orion has told us the rent's been raised."
Silence. Everyone ogled at Wisteria. Wallace immediately flipped onto an upright position, staring at the blue-haired girl disbelievingly.
"Are you…serious?" Zilyana asked, eyes wide.
With a glance at Orion, who nodded fervently, Wisteria nodded as well. "Completely serious. They're collecting the rent at the end of the week. At this rate, minus all the food and necessities, we're still short. We might be able to pay up if we perform every day and get a good reception, but you know things are most of the time….we were very lucky today, actually…"
"And if we don't pay up…" Cynthia started, and then quickly decided against finishing the sentence. Because no, in this kind of high-end city the hotel owners didn't just throw you out and slam the doors in your face. Every second you spent in their rooms was charged and would be paid for, and if you didn't you would have to work off your debt. The Lamia rulers turned a blind eye to the frequent revenge kidnappings and horrible conditions of the mines or factories the kidnapped were sent to work at, because it generated lots of cash and that's what mattered.
Besides, more deaths equalled more blood.
In fact the group wouldn't even have been in that room if it wasn't one of the cheapest around.
The group's disturbing thoughts were broken by a series of unnaturally high-pitched whimpers. Everyone whipped around to face Wallace, who was rocking back and forth on the edge of the bed with his knees hugged to his chest- and shuddering violently. The haunted look in his eyes was unmistakable.
"If we don't- if we don't pay- pay-pay up- t-then-"
He was having one of those unexplained panic attacks again.
"Wallace!"
Steven was the fastest to act, being the closest- in moments the panicking Wallace was bundled up off to the other room they had rented, the room no one wanted to enter unless it was serious because they didn't really trust the occupant within.
"As I was saying," Wisteria repeated, brandish her scrap of paper. "We need money. And fast. So, being the awesome person who settles everything for you, I got us jobs~"
Several pairs of eyes followed the blue-haired girl as she pulled out a wooden crate from under the bed, opened it and heaved out…
…a pile of lace.
On second glances it wasn't exactly a pile of lace, just a pile of doubtlessly itchy fabric in sickly-sweet pastel colors. The headdresses Wisteria took out next were worse, with a copious amount of frills and lace on each.
"Sorry;" Wisteria started apologetically. "It's hard to find random jobs in this kind of city, where everyone already has assistants and apprentices hired. It was quite a stroke of luck that I found a family entertaining some Lamia gentry in a few days and desperately needed the extra help. We've done servantwork before, and this one pays quite well, so…"
The rest sighed in a resigned matter as Wisteria got on to handing out the fabric- actually uniforms. "Since Zilyana will practically die in any form of maid's uniform and then we wouldn't get the money, I got the kitchen's assistant job;" Wisteria narrated as she handed the cloaked Zilyana a plain apron. "And then for the rest of us…I've got three maids' uniform and one footman's. Most of the visiting gentry were Lamian noblewomen, unfortunately."
No one really knew why Wisteria was explaining so much today, usually she just told everyone what they were supposed to do and they did it. That was, until they were down to Orion and Steven.
Who were both guys.
And before them on the bed, Wisteria had laid out the footman's uniform…and a maid's.
"I repeat. Three maids, one footman." Wisteria emphasized, turning to look at the two expressionlessly. "Do the math."
The others stopped scrutinizing their uniforms and turned to look. A smile crept across Cynthia's mouth, barely restrained amusement showing in her features. She glanced at Zilyana, who quirked a cheeky smile back, then moved her gaze back to the two men- who looked at the two uniforms on the bed in horror.
Wisteria snorted. "You think I'd waste so much breath justifying myself someone wasn't going to get…well…really badly burned, metaphorically?"
A/N: /insert cliffhanger here