After helping her Father get his tipsy Wife to the Den, and the bottles of wine into the wine cooler behind the bar, while the Firewhisky was displayed on the shelf with the Spirits of the same 'class', Hermione kissed her Mom goodnight, hugged her Father, and ran for her bedroom, knowing that her parental units were going to be engaging in the Mating Rituals that she had no interest in walking in on… again. Rather than unload her Robe's pockets, she just dropped the robe on the bed, and dashed to the kitchen.
"What is the rush?" Her Avatar asked from over her shoulder as she grabbed a plate, and began grabbing things from the chiller.
"I want to be behind my Door as soon as possible." the Girl hissed. "Mom and Dad like to run about the house and play when she reaches certain levels of drunkenness." She grabbed two bottles of milk, pausing just long enough to fill the racks with empties and place the two six pack racks outside the front door. "Cheese, ham, sprouts… The avocado is still not fully ripe, leave that. The half chicken… and the last of the rye. That should hold us until Dawn." she piled it all on the plate, grabbed a spreader, and cradling the bottles in her arms, she bolted to her bedroom. As She was locking the door she heard her Mother scream in rapture. She then slid her school trunk over to block it as well.
Riddic phased in, frowning at the young females' attempt to barricade the portal. "You know that won't stop them if they really want in." He turned to watch her sort out the food, "And how long do you plan to be locked in here?"
"I just need to hold out until about three to eight hours from now." Hermone stepped back, "Once the Wine has burned off, and her drive is satiated for the time being, Mom will crash, and Dad will carry her to bed, if he can."
Riddic frowned at the door. He could smell the Females Desire when they passed the Den on the way to the bedroom from the Kitchen. He knew that he would be tested if he had to handle a woman like that. He was a Nicromonger Furrian. While he was the Lord High Marshal, the Necromongers were in a holding pattern. When his Generals moved against him, and he survived… He just walked away, knowing that he would cross them at any time in the future. And should they meet on the field of battle… only the Fates knew what to expect on that day.
"So that is either more than you need, or you are planning to share." The now bald and hairless man smiled at the girl.
"A bit of both." She turned to look at him. "Must you wear goggles, or should we look into getting you glasses to improve your vision issues?"
"My eyes are what is referred to as Polished." The Killer smiled at the girl. "They allow me to see into the ultra-violet side of things, but the bright light of day can be painful." He Picked up the focus that summoned him, one of his Uluks that he lost about the time Kira aka Jack died. "Where did you get this?" he drew his thumb across the blade, "It needs sharpening."
Hermione opened her trunk and pulled out her Potions kit, setting her knives and the sharpening kit before him, she set the ingredients aside to sort later. "Have at them. I just kept them sharp enough to do their job. I know there is a difference between sharp enough to slice herbs, and sharp enough to skin and debone a fish." she rocked back, squating so that she sat on her heels, keeping her bum off the floor. "I expect you to teach me the tricks of the trade to keep my blades that sharp. My training starts in the morning." She rose and turned to her bed, "Now, if you excuse me, I am going to get started on my introductions to my new offered classes. Something tells me I am not going to like the answers to many of the questions I have running through my brain."
"We will need to improve your Blade count and stone selection." the Avatar for Assassin licked his lips. "That Boy we will see today. What is he?"
"A Friend." She paused, "I have no idea if he is more than a Friend… but there is time for those facts to come into play later. I know I can count on him in a pinch."
Hermione eased onto the bed, and dug out a textbook labelled Introduction to Muggle Studies. BY Bathilda Bagshot.
She lost herself in the text as Riddic drew the varis blades across the first stone in her kit.
PBPB
"Follow me." Kent led the way out.
"The coins are your responsibility." John told Harry as they followed along.
Harry was quick to pocket the whole tray of coins by slipping it into his Coin Pouch.
Kent led the way to a 'service' lift and after everybody had entered, she hit a button marked as LL* before drawing out a silver with gold inlay cigar-case. She flicked it open to pull a hand rolled cigarillo from the selection within, and snapped it closed, tucking it inside her leather dinner-jacket. She began to pat her pockets, no doubt looking for a lighter.
Harry frowned at her, before focusing on his right hand thumb, and snapped his fingers… there at the tip of his thumb, a small flame bloomed. He offered her his thumb. She was quick to light her smoke, so he could blow out his thumb.
"Where did you learn to do that?" She hissed.
"Can not Answer that… yet." Harry smirked. "But it is something I saw a patron of the Inn I was staying at do. I asked him how, and he explained the basics. I just got it down last night."
"Do you have more of these… skills available to you?" Kent drew on her 'stick'.
"A couple." Harry turned away from looking at her. "And when I am named an adult by Society, I can tell you more and use these skills to their full intent."
"And I only signed you for five years exclusively." Kent snorted as she too turned away.
"And you are the only one to have the first option to extend that contract. I doubt Baba Yaga here is going to take a posting as Management." Harry smirked up at the man, "Either a bullet between the eyes or a good woman are the only ways out for him."
"The Boy knows me too well." The Boogeyman muttered.
The lift rattled to a stop.
"So, until you finish school, you are only allowed to work Summers?" She threw the gate open.
"I would need to talk to Zeus about my Postal issues, and introduce him to the one lady that out ranks even you." Harry fell in on her heels. "But it can be arranged for my Christmas and Easter Breaks to be filled with either training or minor jobs close to home."
"A Lady has demand on your time?" the woman smirked over her shoulder at the boy.
"You will understand once you meet Hedwig." Harry spoke in a tone that said; drop it, but you will be amused."
"Okay, Lad." John spoke up. "Unlike your world, and the normals. The gold coin has no set cash value. One coin gets you one night of service in The Continental. That includes meals, medical, grooming, transportation, and laundry services. Once you are in, it is almost impossible to be forced out as long as you can pay and obey the Rules. Failure to do either can earn you a Dinner Reservation."
Harry dug the tray out. Plucking a coin from the foam bed, he squinted at it. "So how many should I carry?"
"You should not need more than Fifty tonight. A full roll-line. Anymore and you will make noise walking about." Kent frowned at the youth. Harry took two passes to move fifty coins to his pocket, before returning the tray to the punch and the leather drawstring bag to his belt. "During Dinner, would you show me a coin from your pouch?"
"Maybe." Potter frowned. "I do not know if I can. There are 'tricks' that will make that … difficult."
Kent frowned… but then nodded.
They approached a door in the wall. There was a grated window over a coin slot. Kent pushed the boy to the front of the group. Potter, the smart lad he was, slipped a coin into the slot. The grating clanged open, clanged shut and the door opened to allow the group in.
The next room looked like a chinese sweatshop and laundry. An Asian lad, younger than Potter, led them past the workers towards a beaded curtain. Harry frowned as his neck was on a swivel.
"At first glance, this place looks like a sweatshop and slave labour." He hissed at Kent.
"Oh?" She smirked around her twist. "And?"
Harry pointed at two ladies chittering like squirrels over a brocade vest, "Their nails. Aunt Petunia's nails are not that well kept, and she spends thirty pounds weekly at the salon to look as good as she does." his finger shifted to a woman with a loop in her eye as she darned buttons to the sleeve of a dinner jacket. "She is dressed in silks that even Malfoy would be impressed with. If this place was raided right now by immigration enforcement, everyone would think they are being held against their will, but in truth, these ladies make a better living than my Uncle, who is a supervising manager for his company."
"Good eye." Kent chuckled.
Then they were through the beaded curtains.
They were met by an Italian Tailor, an English Tailor, and a 'Chinese' Matron.
Harry looked them over, before smiling. "Always buy English, but for Death; the best look… must be Italian."
The two Tailors frowned for a minute before they got the joke. They shared a smile while the Matron frowned.
"You have nothing to say to me?" she poke the lad in the chest with her boney finger.
"As I understand things." the lad rubbed where she poked, "What you do to my new clothing is intended to be unseen. Yes, it is what will keep me alive out there when the dung gets flung, but what is unseen, is also unheard. I had that beaten into me. While I might joke with them, you are never a laughing matter."
The Matron squinted at the lad, before nodding, and then in a Cockney accent, "Right you are Gov."
In short order they had him stripped to his 'Pants', and standing on a stool as they measured him from head to toe, wing tip to wing tip, Inseam and out.
"Purpose of Suit." the Englishman inquired.
"Daily wear." Harry raised his chin. "I will be needing three such suits while I am under Kent's supervision." He grinned at the man, "Should I need a Suit for Work, I will request a New Suit from you Gents."
"Style?" the Italian asked.
Harry frowned as he looked at John.
"Mine is Italian." John tugged his sleeves.
"Would like to see my options in truth." After looking through their offerings, he nodded. "I like the look of the Double Breasted Italian. Vest and Coat. My School colours are Scarlet and Gold. If I could get the vest done in a Brocade of Scarlet and Gold… I will get you a photo of my Badge for next years fitting."
"Day or Night." The Englishman scratched out the notes.
"With three suits, I should be able to dress for both in the morning." Harry looked around, "Unless Anyone thinks I should do something Different?"
"Two Coats in Black, with one; Vest red with gold, one vest gold with scarlet, and his third coat, Scarlet with gold over a black vest." Kent looked the sketches over, before nodding and stepping back. "Should there be a need, he can send the suit to the Laundry, and dress in another." She looked at the Matron, "No doubt that Laundry will be able to Clean the Suit and have it ready in the morning… or he will need to be refitted."
"Of Course, Senoria." The Italian bowed his head. The Matron raised her chin at the challenge.
"Trousers," the English man asked.
"Roomy," Harry answered. "But not overly so. Need room to move and grow. While I am dressed nicely, people will wonder if I don't run about a bit."
The Adults all snorted, but nodded.
"Lining?" the Matron asked.
"Tactical." John answered.
"Both Jacket and Vest." Potter answered. "I might have the need to offer a lady my Jacket. Would not want to be caught out."
"It will double your expenses?" the Matron warned.
"I would rather pay you Coin than pay those who are shooting at me in my blood." Harry answered. "And that goes double for whoever is hiding under my jacket."
The three Clothers nodded.
The Italian turned back to the nearly naked lad on the stool. "Will that be all?"
"If you could line the edges of the vests with a line of single slip-pockets so that I can hold three or four Coins along the edge, and palm one for the illusion that I conjured a Coin out of thin air. I am going for the whole Death Can't Be Stopped theme and mixing in some street magic." He shot a glare at Kent.
"He has a few other tricks up his sleeve." Kent grinned. "If he profects his street magic gimmick, it will truly rattle his Contracties."
The Matron nodded, before stepping forward, and feeling the Lad's shoulders and arms. "Send him to the Circus. Ask them to apprentice him to the Spider. He has the frame for that kind of climbing."
"That would cost Him more then a Coin." Kent rubbed out the butt of her smoke. "But Not Enough to cost Him a Marker." She waved at the pile of clothing piled to the side. "Get Dressed. Our Next Stop is the Sommelier."
As Harry closed his trousers and tightened the belt, "The Black Jacket with the Black Vest in the morning? I do believe that John wants to sleep here, where he can teach me in a quiet environment." The shirt was a button down that he just tucked into his belt. He settled the robes/over coat, dug out a handful of Coins. "So, the bill comes due at what…?"
"Twenty-seven." the Matron answered. "We can bill the Room…" she trailed off as the boy started stacking Coins on the table surface beside him. "That works too."
Harry then left three Coins in front of the two stacks of ten and the short stack of seven.
"I do hope to see you often enough to call you Friend." Harry Shook hands with the Tailors, kissed the Hand of the Matron, and followed Kent and John back to the Lift.
A quick ride to the Lobby, and Kent led to the way along a lit Hallway and into what first looked like a Liquor Store.
"What little French I know, crossed with my knowledge of the Food Service Industry, I know the word 'Sommelier' is the wine waiter." Harry looked about him. "While I would say that this is the Place… the way you two were speaking, i was expecting… More."
"I am so glad you think so." A woman spoke from behind Harry.
His Seeker reflexes kicked in and he was pointing his 1911 at her nose.
"A Kimber 1911. Seven round 9 millimetre clip. Simple and easy to use and clean. This beauty has not been used since she was detailed. Gold engraving, Mother of Pearl grips." the Jamakin Black woman smiled, her teeth blinding white again her darker than chocolate skin*. "And judging from the way you are holding her, her clip is empty and she is new to you."
"Sorry about that." Harry tucked the pistol back into the back of his belt, tugging his robe back into place. "I have a thing about people springing out at me."
"Noted.'' The Dark Woman was wearing a tasting cup on a chain about her neck and a silver brooch on her lapel. Her pants suit was black silk over a rose' linen camisole. "Is She just tucked in your belt, or do you have a holster back there?"
"Just my belt." Harry cocked his head to the side, "But that is how I got her. A display box and a single clip while the box was built to hold two clips."
John snorted. "Seven Million buys you Seven bullets. That's one million per bullet."
"What?" Kent turned to look at John.
"Wait ten years." John adjusted his sleeves. "You will get the Joke."
"This way." the Lady turned and led the way through a door on the far side of a display of fine bourbon. The next room was filled with displays of weapons of all types and sizes. "Do you know the parlance?"
Harry frowned and looked at John and Kent.
Kent pulled out her case, and selected a new twist. "I am just watching this."
Harry shook his head, and lit his thumb again for the Manager.
John sighed. "You are wanting a 'Tasting'. Treat this as if you are selecting a wine or other beverage for a dinner party."
Harry nodded as he turned back to the Sommelier "I require a Tasting."
"To start I can offer the PPC .22 and the PPC .38." She laid the two small pistols on the display mat on the counter.
"No." Potter drew the Kimber and laid it on the mat, pointing the other way then her offerings "I have this beauty if I wanted youth. I am looking for something with a bit of … vintage?"
"How Vintage?"
"Turn of the Century?" Harry asked. "Enfusis on 'turn'."
The Woman cocked her Head, "I would need to check the Root Cellar. Is this for an event?"
"No. Prefered Daily Bevrage." Harry licked his lips. "My Apoligies If I run away with this. Please correct me if my choice of phrase steps over any lines. As Miss Kent said I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Lighting my thumb is little more the a snap of my fingers, ending with my thumb up. A snap with my thumb pointing sideways to cause a lovely bottle of my preferred vintage to appear in my grip…"
The Adults frowned before nodding, "I can see that happening." John spoke, "They search him, find the Kimber, and think he is now unarmed, and then with a snap or two he shoots his way out."
"Okay." The Sommelier nodded, "I should have a bottle or two by the end of the week."
"I fear that I will be a little thirsty." Harry smiled. "Make it 4, daily. I am a growing boy after all."
The Black woman raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "And for say… Later?"
Harry "I fear that my diet can only include the Kimber, but I would like two or three helpings if you can?"
"Helpings?" Kent asked.
Harry picked up the WWII gun, and ejected the clip, before setting the pistol back on the mat. He tapped the clip on the mat, before laying it beside the pistol. "Helpings."
"If you required something 'bolder'?" the Gun-Guru asked.
"I would have to … visit you within six hours?" Harry shrugged.
"And finally… Dessert." a box was set before the lad, and folded out… knives.
Harry selected a hooked Crambit and a Kukri, even though they were not in the box, but hanging on the wall to their Left. "Apologies. My tastes are more… exotic." He tapped the box, before glancing at Kent. "I have a Friend… I promised Her some sweets today. Would it be possible to… share with her the experience of ordering Dessert?" Harry licked his lips, "I would be paying the Bill one way or another, but the selection of your 'chocolates' is a personal thing?"
Kent frowned. "Will She be Opening an Account?"
"I am not saying no." Harry sighed, "She is better at my tricks then I am, but she still walks in the Light."
"Let me think on it." the leather-clad Manager pulled on her stick.
"Shall I have everything delivered to your room?" the Sommelier inquired.
Harry picked up the Kimber and clip. "I need to keep this on hand… now, everything else can be sent to my Room, once I claim the Reservation, John made on the way in." He was handed a concealed holster for the middle of his Back for the 1911, and he slid, first the gun into the molded plastic, and then both into the center of his back. "I am almost afraid to ask… what do I owe you?"
"Ten. And two for your hangover."
Harry counted out a stack of ten Continental Coins, beside that he dropped two. A last coin palmed and passed as shook the Black woman's hand. "Thank you."
Harry stepped away to stand beside Kent, As John stepped forward.
"I require a Tasting."
PBPB
TBC
AN: I am not Racist, and mean nothing offensive by the descriptive 'Jamaican Black' other than they are what I think is the darkest skin colour of the three, there is the African that is like a rich brownie, that is so common across the world. Then you have the Aboriginal, a bit on the lighter side of the scale, because they become faded due to their way of life. They can hide in the shadow of the Sun at High Noon. but the 'Jamaican' is the darkest. Those that I have met that were Blacker than Night claimed Jamaica as the place they came from. I was more shocked by the yellow dress than I was by him. Yellow just was not his colour.