Albert Goodesworth was a strange sight in this particular bar at this particular time of day in his particular outfit. He was “in uniform” as he might say, but to everyone else it looked like he was dressed for a wedding. It was far too early in the afternoon for there to be four empty pints in front of him. And this bar, well, let’s just say it was a den of scum and villainy compared to the circles he was native to.
Puck, on the other hand, was home. That is to say, he was as home as a man such as he could be home. The patrons all knew him, the girls all smiled, the piano switched to his favorite tune when he waved to the maestro. The bartender had Puck’s drink ready by the time he got to the bar, and Puck sat next to the dour Albert with a nod. Puck wasn’t used to being ignored. Albert didn’t mean anything by it. He was completely unaware of Puck and his status in the bar as “favorite person”. The younger man was a bit hurt, and considered stabbing the older man for a moment, then thought better of it.
“Howdy, freind,” Puck slapped Albert on the back.
Albert sputtered and coughed, looked Puck up and down, and mumbled “I am not yet drunk enough to talk to someone in such a ridiculous hat.” His accent was distinctly of the High class of the city.
Puck scratched his completely hatless head (it would be criminal to cover such hair) and guessed his barstool neighbor was a clerk or servant. “Tough day at the fine gentleman’s store?”
Albert tried to focus. He was successful enough to realize that Puck’s hat was in fact not his hat but the chandelier. He then felt guilty enough to further engage with the young man. “I am in my uniform, sir.”
Puck had no idea why, but he was fascinated by this-butler? “You look sadder than the servants that usually run errands through here,” Albert interrupted by smashing his fifth empty pint on the bar, “and you are more drunk than the hour allows.”
“Young man,” Albert straightened, and for a minute, he had a regal air, “I need not justify myself to one such as-” Albert lost his air as he fell off the barstool he had had a tenuous relationship with up to this point.
“You do you,” Puck helped Albert up. The tone of the bar had soured ever so slightly, and the bartender knew it was Albert’s fault. He shot Puck a look, and Puck nodded. “I think you are done here, buddy,” Alfred swayed hard against Puck, “...and I don’t think you can walk.”
“Ha!” Albert barked so the whole bar could here. The music stopped as Albert attempted a jig, apparently to prove his ability to completely wipe out yet again, this time taking a waitress with him.
Puck glanced nervously to the bartender, than to the three large men the barkeep had waved over to remove the butler. He looked at Albert, laying limp as the waitress kicked away from him. He looked at the two closest goons. He then realized he had lost his own drink in the kerfuffle. “Well this day’s shot,” he grumbled.
Albert saw the men too, and he did his best to politely say hello, but a combination of his accent and the alcohol made “hello this fine day” sound very much like “Hey your mom’s gay”. Two men roughly grabbed Albert while the third navigated the crowded tables to close in.
Puck had no idea why, but he felt, what was it, bad? He felt bad for Albert, and he did not like it. He stepped forward in a conciliatory fashion “hey fellas, cut him some slack, his mom just died,” waving a hand at Albert’s fancy dress as proof of the funeral.
“She did not!” Albert barked again.
“Oh right, right,” Puck shot Albert a dirty look in between his charming smile, “it was his dad he just buried.”
Albert imitated Puck’s upbeat tone and said “Nope!”
Puck facepalmed, the two men started to drag Albert to the door, who yelled out something about working for a duke. Despite the absolute fiasco that had just unfolded, Puck perked up. He could use a butler to a Duke as a friend. He would even be willing to trade his cache at such a bar as this for a favor from the servant of nobility. The bouncers stopped short as a flash of light off to the side made them flinch, and before anyone got their vision back Puck traded a knife in either man’s leg for the thin posh butler and absconded out the back. No-one would be the wiser: he had done this before.
Albert hit the fresh air. The sharp wind in the alley coupled with the sting from the sea a mile or so away sobered him quickly. He blinked in the horizontal rays of the sunset. Albert was not ungrateful, he just regretted making a fool of himself. He turned to Puck. “I suppose I owe you some thanks, mr...” He trailed off, letting the question stand.
Puck knew better than to answer an implicit question. “You, uh, alright? You kind of trailed off there, I know a good cleric if you need medical help.”
Albert’s embarrassment got the better of him. “Ah. Yes, well.” He straightened his attire, and walked off.
“Too posh for this part of town?” Puck called out to him, laughing audibly. Albert kept going, and just before he hit the main road, Puck appeared in front of him. “Oh, come now, why you leaving so soon?”
Albert was quick to go from astonishment to curiosity. “How did you do that?” he swiveled back to where Puck had been and then to where Puck was now. He noticed a black tattoo on the back of Puck’s hand. “Nevermind, doesn’t matter.” He moved to pass Puck, then had an idea. “Listen, are you looking for work, mr…”
Puck liked that implicit question better. “Puck, and I’m always looking for money.”
“Albert, and what I have could be highly lucrative, if you are willing to...bend a few laws and break a bunch of social norms."
“See I don’t know what any of those words mean anyway.”
“Excellent! Tell me young Puck, what do you know about safes, and crown Jewels?”
Puck was very glad that this was the butler he had decided to rescue.
