This Isn’t My Order

[Charity Valentin]

Yaris 4th, 2718
DSOH HUT | SOMETIME FAR TO LATE OR EARLY...

”Y
​​es, well. He looked like you. It’s not like I kissed him on purpose. I wouldn’t ever.” The blonde slurred uncomfortably, wiggling to straighten in the chair, violet eyes on her noodles as the men exchanged words. Charity beamed suddenly, glancing over at Not Rhys and nodded.
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​​ “Oh yes, this is him. My Rhys.” She hummed, looking back at the galdor with a giggle as he parried her spoon.
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​​ “Clocks, the ladies can back off now though. Lest they want a spoon in the eye.” She muttered, the utter hypocrisy of her words completely lost on the woman.
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​​ “No, the uniform is nice but I knew him before the uniform. See, we were in Brunnhold together.” Leaning slightly towards the human, the blonde attempted to whisper, terribly.
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​​ “I had a huge crush on him, you know? Head over tocking heels I was since third form. But…well…” Charity straighted again, smile fading and dilated eyes back on her food.
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​​ “Things happened. We lost contact, you might say. But then, he saved me.” Turning back to Rhys, she rested a hand on his arm.
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​​ “You saved me, Mister Valentin.” Enamoured, she looked over his lovely face for a moment, before snorting and waving at Gale.
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​​ “Shush. It’s just a couple of tonics. Everyone drinks sir, you included I am sure.” Her cheeks darkened as the conversation came back around to her case of mistaken identity, and even through her intoxication the blonde could sense more behind Rhys words. She lowered her spoon and frowned a little, brow drawing slightly.
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​​ “I said I couldn’t…I couldn’t feel his field at the time. It happens, sometimes. I was…a bit…it was an accident Rhys.” Her small frown deepened and she turned to pout at Gale.
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​​ “Hey! I’m sitting, right here. I can hear you, and I’d like to think I’m not that clocking disgusting to look at? You should count yourself lucky a galdori mistook you for one of us.” That wasn’t fair, but the drug addled blonde was feeling a sense of being the joke of the trio. Of course, she deserved it, but neither of them knew what she endured. What dragged her into the drugs. Rhys knew, but he didn’t know.
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​​”I hope it was a fitting thrill for everyone—tea for me, too."
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​​ “Oh for clocks sake, that’s enough. Both of you. Here now, let’s all have a go at Charity, the whore of Vienda apparently.” The pianist snapped angrily, throwing down her spoon and gathering her skirts around her so she could move to stand with all intentions of leaving the shop.
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​​ “You can both…stay here…and have a good clocking….clocking laugh at the…D’Art…D’aa…damn it!” She has managed to sit a leg of the stool on her dress, and too short to get off with any sort of dignity, the short woman half fell off the tall seat. Shoving the chair, she tugged her dress out, stepping back with a stumble. Leveling a look at Not Rhys, she pointed a free hand, skirts still gathered in the other forgotten.
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​​ “You’re an ersehole.” She said angrily, before turning the same gaze and pointed finger on Rhys.
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​​ “And you’re a jerk.” Her angry accusatory finger snapped to the Hoxian.
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​​ “And you make excellent noodles and should be proud of your establishment. Thankyou.” Charity said with a smile, her anger abating as she addressed the shop keep. Letting her skirts go, the woman smoothed her hair and straightened her shoulders. Turning a hurt and still angry eye on Rhys, the blonde shook her head.
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​​ “I’m going home, before my father does. Stay and enjoy this….conversation.” She wobbled, grasping a chair to steady herself, the tonic searing it’s way boldly through every blood vessel in her brain. The galdor swallowed, feeling bile in her throat.
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​​ “Oh dear.” Charity said softly, making her staggering way out of the door just in time before emptying her stomach under the staircase.

[Gale]

dsoh hut | a dark hour

4 YARIS 2718

The tea was poured, the steaming contents catching the senses of the smith. The intoxicated all but threw themselves at the Seventen, so open with their relationship despite the lingering tenseness that rested there. Almost as if it was some form of unspoken taboo. Gale gave their thanks, and taking it leaned back against the counter watched the scene unfold. All it took was a small prod here, and a poke there – everything would so neatly fall apart. The lip tugged into a curl, “Oh did you now? So sweet you found each other once more.”

Bring me a bucket so I can throw up this romantic drivel.

The human let the pair process, allowing them to pass it back and forth while the smith became the observer. Still, it was interesting to watch him from a seat over. Chin resting in their free hand, the other holding the cup and taking sips of the warmth. Relationships were a complicated thing, and it was refreshing to see that the Galdori classes suffered with the same bane. Not that relationships were things the smith had any real experience at. Most were stuck on the theme of business. But loving? Friendships? She forced the tightness growing in her chest to escape as a snigger, “Oh, the humanity.”

There is none.

What little the pair between them knew. She wondered briefly how this scene would play out if all the parties knew the truth, if all the hands were revealed and the cards exposed for what they were. It would only be a matter of escalation. When the ribald came from Charity the words struck, the expression turning to a blank expression and hardening to one of steel. Unmoving, the eyes focused onto the middle ground as the finger pointed accusingly.

The smith did not react.

It was not worth it. None of it was. They would just take what was coming and then leave.

“Such is my duty as a human.”

The voice was distinctly toneless, all personality sapped away for a brief moment. It simmered there for a time, a gaze still fixed on the middle distance while the intoxicated vomited outside. With Charity gone, the smith took out the tin of cigarettes. One was drawn, a single match with it before the arm stretched out to him. There it was held until either the Seventen took it, or refused it. The intent, as far as Gale was aware, was obvious. She held no ill will against him – it was pointless to, he had done nothing wrong.

“It was not a thrill,” Gale began, gaze averting down into her cup, “I felt vulnerable. And there was nothing I could do about it. Any and all moves in this situation would have put me in the wrong.” She sighed, “So, aye. I was a jackass. Only thin’ I got goin’ after all.”

The hand waved the offering at him. The eyes would not lift to look at him, shoulders hunching in protectively. What was she expecting in honesty? She did not know. But judging by the tired look on his face he was probably more content with the idea of being left alone. Sighing, the hand fell, “You should probably eat though. Got to have the right head on for when fightin’ crime or whateffer.” She cupped the last of the brew, brow furrowing into a line, “I… well… small world. Or somethin’. I’m not good at this stuff. So uh, thanks for the other day. You doin’ your job and all that.”

A clunk of noise drew the smith’s attention as the earlier tins filled with food were placed on the side. She sighed, giving a small nod of thanks to the Hoxian and drained the last of the tea, “Right, well, this is me. So. You should probably go after her. Or, whatever people in relationships do. Not my circus.”

Loaded up into a thin sack, the smith kept the gaze away from him. What did she actually want from this? What was the point in this awkward interaction? She snorted, stepping up and away from him. A small wave of the hand as the moves were made to leave the establishment, she gave only the smallest of glances back to him, voice a mumble, “For what it’s worth from a human, I’m sorry.”

[Rhys Valentin]

4th of Yaris, 2718
The ONLY GOOD PLACE for DSOH in UPTOWN | A LATER HOUSE THAN USUAL

Charity was reminiscing and Rhys felt the warmth of chagrin continue to spread through his whole body, hot magma in the narrow cavity of his chest slowly bubbling through his veins, biting his lip. He was helpless in the moment, watching the intoxicated woman and hearing her poorly whispered words—they were all true, painfully so. Gods, he'd loved her like a fool, and here he was foolishly clinging to something that he should have let go of years ago. She turned to him, her hand on the green of his Seventen uniform instead of the green of his Brunnhold uniform and he exhaled, slowly, through his teeth.

You saved me, Mister Valentin.

I didn't, he longed to say. I can't.

The tall Sergeant smiled instead, but his impotent hurt seeped into his words and crept in between the conversation in ways he didn't entirely intend,

"No, that's not what I meant. Charity, stop. Don't do this here." She was attempting to gracefully get her petite self down off the stool and stalk away from them both, but she was far too deep into her own drunken high to do anything other than make a clumsy mess of every motion. Rhys frowned at her, holding his hands up in self defense, "You're not walking home by yourself, godsdamnit. Just let me—"

He was digging into the pocket of his coat for money, and then Gale opened her mouth with an honesty that the young Valentin was neither prepared for nor equipped to hear. He blinked at the other blond, the human who might have resembled family if he'd not been an only child from the middle of clocking nowhere Brayde County, Anaxas,

"That wasn't your fault. None of this has anything to do with you. Her father—he's—she—clock it. I'm the ersehole. I fucked up. Years ago." Far more coins than were at all necessary were set on the counter, the Seventen aware he'd said things he had no need to say to a human who didn't care and didn't want to know, but Mister Saunders had apologized and he wasn't sure he'd ever heard a human sound so sincere when not under the threat of arrest,

"I try to do my job better than most. I know there's a bunch of privileged ersehats out there who wear the same clocking uniform as I do, but I'm desperate not to be one of them. I still fuck up there, too—apparently I'm a better at being a Seventen than relationships, though. There's a patrol in half a house, so I'd suggest not walking home along any of the main thoroughfares to the Soot District. You should stick to the canals and the bridge near the Painted Ladies." Rhys smirked, offering his particular insight and reminding her that he was well aware just how far into Uptown she was.

Perhaps he should have asked why. Perhaps he should have questioned how she found herself here in the dsoh shop under his own apartment. Perhaps he should have worried about how the smith now not only knew more about his personal life, but knew the faces of who was in it. But, he didn't. He couldn't bring himself to linger with suspicion, not after the other blonde's thanks, not after her unexpected humility. If that's what it was. Was it a ruse? Was it genuine? Why even clocking bother?

He was far too embarrassed and distracted to take the time he needed, far too tired from a long two nights of working, that he simply shoved everything into the back of his clouded mind for later. Or never.

Not waiting for change and leaving his gift of a meal untouched, he was quick to step around Charity's mess and reach for her gently with one hand while the other slid his pocket watch from his dirtied uniform coat, "You've got at least another hour, and you know it. Come upstairs for a quarter of it and calm down, clean up a little, then I'll walk you home. Please? It's been a long clocking few days, and I'm sorry."