59th Day of Summer, 512 AV "You's done gots ta been kiddin' me...?" Tock was glaring at her boss, hands on her hips, her don't petch with me look firmly planted on her face. He just stared her down, with that irritating, maddening calm composure of his. She couldn't remember ever seeing him lose his temper, in all the time she'd been working for him. Sometimes she wanted to smack him one, just to see if he'd react. Though knowing him, he'd likely just give her that look, and lecture her about how he was disappointed in her. Maddening man. "I don't see what the problem is?" he asked. "They seem like fine young gentleman..." "Didja see 'eir 'ands!?" she asked, throwing her arms up in the air. She stared at her boss like he was crazy. Jacques's face scrunched up in confusion. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, glancing over at the two teenaged boys waiting off to the side. Tock figured they were about fifteen or sixteen, both skinny, well dressed, and looking as though they'd never done a day's hard work in their lives. Jacques didn't seem to see any problem with them, however, and just shrugged and asked, "What's wrong with their hands?" "Oy, look!" she said, grabbing her boss by his shirt sleeve and dragging him over to the teenagers. She grabbed the brown haired boy's hand and held it up to her boss. "See?" The boy sputtered a bit, while his friend, a nerdy looking blond boy, watched in confusion. Jacques looked at the hand, then up at Tock, and asked, "I don't see what you mean?" Tock pulled on the boy's hand, ignoring his protests as she splayed his fingers apart. "No calluses!" she declared. "No scars! No nothin'! 'Ey ain't never 'eld a piece o' wood 'fore in their lives!" The boy sputtered a bit as she released his hand, looking between Jacques and Tock. Finally, he asked, "Does... is... do I not get the job then?" He looked quite distraught. Jacques sighed and laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "No no no, you're fine," he said. "You'll have to excuse... Tock. She can simply be rather... loquacious." Tock planted her fists on her hips and snapped at him, "Didja jus' call me a crayfish?" She really WAS ready to hit him... Jacques and the two apprentices started laughing at her, and she didn't even understand why. When he caught his breath in between laughs, Jacques waved his hands at her and said, "No, no my dear... loquacious. It means... talkative..." Her eyes narrowed and her face turned red with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. She hated it when people used big words like that on her. It wasn't HER fault she didn't have the schooling to know what they meant. The apprentices were still laughing at her, so she screamed at them, "Whaddya laughin' at, huh!?" She was seriously on the verge of losing her temper. Jacques cleared his throat and laid a hand on her shoulder, but she shoved it off. "Miss Zipporah... please..." He looked her in the eye, using that look he always had when he was about to start lecturing her. She grit her teeth together tight, grumbling. She couldn't hit her boss... she couldn't... especially not after he just promoted her, and explicitly told her she had to work on controlling her temper. The moment drew out, everyone slowly settling into an awkward silence. Finally, Jacques said, "Miss Zipporah, Charles and Nathanial are both eager to learn. Perhaps they haven't done this sort of work before, but everyone has to start some time, yes?" Tock gave him an incredulous look. "But I done started when I were 'is big!" she protested, holding her hand down below her waist. "'Ow's fer I s'posed ta teach 'em, when--" "I'm confident you'll do fine," Jacques said, using his I'm the boss stop arguing with me tone. She glared at him, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from cursing him out. Finally, after several more assurances (both to her, that the boys would do fine, and to the boys, that she would not hurt them), Jacques left Tock with her new apprentices. She glared at them both, and they just stood there, looking awkward and pathetic. They didn't look like working boys at all. Finally, she said, "Tch, fine. C'mon..." She waved them to follow, and led them over to the latest wood shipment. She started digging through the lumber that had been brought in on several packed wagons. She picked out some choice pieces, and dropped them in one of the boys' arms. "'Ere," she said, "'old 'is..." "But..." he protested. She turned to glare at him. It was the brown haired one, Charlie, she thought. His clothes looked too expensive for her tastes. She silently vowed to ruin them before the end of the day. Grease and sawdust were part of the work, and these boys needed to learn they weren't going to become carvers without getting their hands dirty. "We thought we were going to learn carving," the other one, Nathanial, said. Tock growled and threw a piece of wood at him, causing the boy to stumble back as he clumsily caught it. "Aye, ya is," she told him. "First lesson is pickin'' out good wood, an' 'elpin' carry it..." The lads shared a distraught look. They clearly had no idea what they were in for... * * * Some hours later, but still well before it was supposed to be quitting time, Jacques walked up to Tock and her two new apprentices. She had them helping her sweep up between the storage racks, and scrubbing out the pots they used to mix stains and water treatments. They were both filthy, and looked quite miserable. Though Tock was elbow deep in the same filth, never being one to make someone do something she wasn't willing to do herself. With any luck, the boys would learn their lesson from today that this kind of work wasn't just about the artistic parts. Everyone did their share, even in the slimy, dirty, grunt work. She had decided to give them a week, minimum, before she let them hold a chisel. If they made it that far, they'd earn enough of her respect to learn some real lessons. "Miss Zipporah?" Jacques asked, nodding for her to step aside with him. "Do you..." he looked her over, frowning at how filthy she was, "own any... nice clothing?" She frowned at him, not having a petching CLUE what he was going on about this time. "Whazzat, Bossman?" she asked. She looked at her clothes. "I ain't fer wear nothin' ta work but work clothes! An' 'ese blokes needs fer ta learn..." she gestured to the two boys, but Jacques cut her off. "No no no," he said, waving his hands dismissively. "I mean, do you own... a dress...?" Her eyes narrowed. She wiped her sleeve across her face, wiping off some sweat but leaving a trail of grease behind. "Why...?" she asked him, her voice laced with distrust. "Well," he said, "Mr. Marshall, our new client..." Tock crossed her arms and scowled at Jacuqes. She KNEW who Marshall was, and hated it when he didn't get straight to the point. "He has... invited us to a dinner..." He looked over her filthy appearance again and added, "A rather nice dinner..." * * * Just past lunch, Tock stormed into the Zeltivan Glassworks. She was still covered, from head to toe, in sawdust, dirt, grime, and sweat. Her boss had let her off early, insisting that she go out and get herself a new dress (she'd told him that she owned one, but he had protested that it needed to be silk, not cotton. The very IDEA of wearing silk had put her into a rage. He's also rather strongly suggested some makeup, and implied, without quite being unreasonable about it, that her future among the crew and her pay bonuses might just be affected by this evening. She was in a right foul mood, most especially since he hadn't even ASKED her if she WANTED to go! He had more or less insisted on it, despite the fact that Tock had planned to spend this evening going over her designs for her monument. Yet now, those plans were ruined, because her boss had decided she needed to be present for this stupid social function. So she was pissed off. She needed to vent. She wanted to drink, but her boss had also made a point to mention she watch how much alcohol she consumed at the dinner tonight, since she had to remain 'ladylike.' She assumed that ALSO meant he wouldn't want her drinking before the dinner. Feh. "Glassman!" she called out, storming through the Glassworks without giving a damn if she was interrupting anything. "Oy, Glassman! Git yer skinny arse out 'ere!" She was in a horrible mood, and if she couldn't drink, she needed her friend. She had so very few friends in Zeltiva. And of the few she had, there was none she trusted or cared for as much as Monty. He'd comfort her... he'd make her feel better. She was clutching Handy against her chest, stroking the back of the wooden hand, hoping her baby would soothe her. But she needed words comfort, not hugging comfort. When Monty presented himself the first words out of her mouth were, "It's not fair! I's gots my bloody statue ta work on, 'ow's I s'posed ta git anythin' done!? Bloody inconsiderate, I tells ya! Ain't nobody gots no respect what fer a girl's schedule!?" |