Bib had not gotten a taste for much in life: mostly he could take or leave whatever was handed to him without so much as a faint feeling of regret. But there was one thing that he simply could not resist, one thing that if someone told him it was now impossible to get, he would have mourned more than his own mother and that was bourbon.
So it was customary when he was unpacking the new shipment at The Bucket to open up the new bottle, peeling away the label to mark it as his and sitting on the crate drinking it slowly and with relish.
On the second glass, he would get to work again.
He worked in his usual steady way, pulling the bottles from their bulky crates and stacking them in their niches. The second glass was nearly empty when he lifted it and his hand gave a violent twinge, causing him to drop it. It seemed to him that the lamp he was working by was suddenly twice as bright as it had been. His head spun and he sat down heavily.
“You are a bull, Blackrain, I’ll give you that.” Phaedra’s honey voice swam through the room to him. He lurched to his feet toward her, but his legs jerked violently beneath him and he collapsed heavily.
“No, no, don’t get up.” She stepped toward him, staying just out of reach of his big meaty hand, “It’s best if you keep your, ah, how is it Giles would put it? Best if you keep your heart-rate down? Yes, much better.”
The pupils of his eyes were dilated wide, giving them an even blacker appearance, they rolled toward the case of bourbon. The twitching was becoming more pronounced now.
“Smart lad, I did the whole case. That old trick with the syringe that Yoyo taught me in Istanbul.” She knelt next to him, “But I do want you to know, Bib, that you were my target from the start. How dare you lay a hand on my Giles.” She struck him hard across the cheek.
“Phaedra…” He started but began to seize before he could say anything more, his eyes rolling back, mouth working silently up at the ceiling. She lifted the half empty bottle of bourban from where he had set it and let herself out of the room.
On the back porch of Strifehouse she threw her head back and screamed, dashing the bottle of bourban against the wall and then hurrying away.
Bib had once seen to it that aid was on its way when Mr. Underby had once left her for dead, she hoped she had just given him the same courtesy.
Though, truth be told, if no one found him in time, she would not have been particularly distressed.
My sweet, sweet lady – always there for me.
All that’s left is Ms. Bilavio, Darling. If I cannot heal you of your terrible injuries, I can at least see justice done to those who were the cause.
Berithos taking shots at an unarmed woman don’t figure into your justice system, do they Phaedra? Of course they don’t.
You have no moral foot to stand on, Osgoode, or did Macbain crash her own ship? You know as well as I do that she was asking for that shot to be fired the moment she led those lll women to Giles’s doorstep.
wait, his name is Osgoode? OSGOODE?
no wonder he has a strange relationship withhis mother’s skull…
Underby was walking from the House of Harami when he heard an ear-splitting shriek emanate from the area of the Bucket of Blood. Without pausing to think, he took off running toward the bar. When he entered the saloon a collection of drunks were milling around, confused.
“What was that scream?” Underby asked, panting.
“We heard a scream…” one of the drunks said, unhelpfully.
“Couldn’t tell where it came from…” said another.
The monkey was scratching at the moving wall, Underby booted it aside and clicked the wall open, slipping inside. Bib lay on the stone floor, eyes rolled back to white, foam coursing from his mouth. An opened box of bourbon bottles lay beside him. However, all the bottles were unopened, save one, which was missing. Someone else had been here, clearly.
Phaedra.
Underby turned back to the hulk on the floor… this man whose live Underby had saved already twice before, securing his unending loyalty. For a brief moment the bald publican thought about considering themselves even and sending for Rusty to haul the body away, but it was becoming more and more clear that Boris was working for Phaedra on the sly, and Mags couldn’t do everything herself. He sighed, leaning down to Bib.
“Hang on, old friend.” Underby said, patting the man’s shoulder. “I will gather help… and I won’t bring that butcher Miggins back for you either… surely there MUST be a competent doctor in this city… somewhere…”
Underby was not as certain as he pretended to be, but climbed up the ladder, nonetheless.
Had he known of the incident, Dr. Sonnerstein would have gladly volunteered his services to aid Bib, but as the situation was, he was just turning in for the day after a long, though quiet, night shift at the hospital, unaware of the poor bartender’s misfortune.
“Scald, do wake me if anyone sends for me, hm?” He paused in the front window where his son was at his seed trays, patting him on the head before he turned to make his way upstairs.
I could of taken a look as well, if I hadn’t been pre-disposed
Evil…evil woman!
*tries not to stare at her legs*
*slaps Victor upside the head.*
*runs after Victor all across Academy*
Imma tellin’ Miz Elleon!
Screaming…wonderful. Just what she didn’t need to hear as she continued business in her upper room. She pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear and tilted her head to the side. Her butler eyeing the night street and shaking his head solomnly he stated,
“They’ll kill each other…like some horrid overdone opera…”
“Most likely…”
He let the drapes drop and turned to look at her, “You are not worried?”
“I should be? You are concerned for this my friend, but you forget…I grew up in this…”
He nodded and poured herself a drink to keep the oils of her mind flowing watching as she picked up a scarab and wondered if they would become useful once again. She figured one thing though…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and what business of hers was it anyway? She looked the scarab over again and in a dull sense of tongue ordered the butler out of the room, and the shadows to the streets slightly praying she didn’t find anyone worth remembering leaving this plain of exsistance.
*makes a note to start stocking anti-venom and other poison cures at her grocers*
*Cadmus opens bottle of rum and sniffs it*
“MacTavish! Come here and bring a glass!”
*Pours some rum into the glass*
“Drink up MacTavish.”
*The sailor smiles and downs the free drink and smiles.*
“Thank ya Cap’n!”
*The sailor totters off. Cadmus watches MacTavish for side effects.*
I find myself rooting for everyone in this conflict.
Even Bib.