February 24th, 1891 - The Hog's Head

Planning for the boxing match had stalled in January, and then Peregrine moved the date for business reasons, and now it was less than a month away and things were moving again. He was sitting on quite a bit of debt from having booked the venue, and he'd started advertising via flyers and word of mouth to his contacts of the right sort. He needed some people to help sell drinks and - more urgently - collect bets, though, and was working on finding some.

Well, right now he was working for Picardy, observing Leila Scott the day after the full moon. But "she sure is still alive" was not necessarily the most urgent of updates, so instead he was mostly working on the budgeting for the event, figuring out the breakeven point and the amount of money they'd get at varying points of success.

He hoped Kit won the boxing match.

He needed to make hires, though. Peregrine was squinting at his paper when he was, perhaps inspired, looking up to find the useless Hog's Head cook. "You," he said, "Come here a second."

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Questor Spryly Ursula Black

  

They were short-staffed today and even though the take up for meals had declined in the mere three weeks he'd started 'cooking' them, he was having to bring out the occasional dish himself which he really didn't care for. It wasn't so much a resentful 'that's not my job' sentiment but more the case that he didn't want anyone to know what he looked like when they tasted his appalling excuse for cooking and inevitably wanted to kill him for polluting their taste buds so heinously.

He was on thin ice now, he was pretty sure they were actively looking for his replacement even though they hadn't dismissed him yet and he hadn't given notice. Maybe in a year he'd be able to drink comfortably at the Hog's Head and forget he'd ever worked there.

"Can I 'elp you with somethin'?" He didn't know what this guy wanted from him but he already regretted making himself available for it.

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.

"You look like the sort of person who needs a side job," Peregrine said, because he did, but also because the blond man was not important enough for Peregrine to bother with politeness or tact or a large portion of exposition.

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Well that was unexpected. Unexpected and very welcome. He could probably do with a bit more than just a side job. "Do I now? What sort o' side job?" He didn't want to sound too keen but he was prepared to jump ship mid-shift and never look back.

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.

"It's a one-day thing," Peregrine replied, "March twentieth. I need people to take drink orders and - are you literate?" He wasn't sure he could have the boy logging bets if he wasn't.

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His heart sank as the guy said it was a one day only thing. That didn't mean he wasn't interested but it did mean he'd still have to go looking for full time work. "Yeah, I can read, got some OWLs to prove it too." Whatever this guy did for a work maybe he had some other opportunities available and just assumed he'd be underqualified for everything except this waiter job.

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.

"Oh, good," Peregrine said, pleasantly surprised by the younger man's answer. He decided to elaborate now that they'd cleared the first hurdle: "I need people to take bets at a boxing match next month, and drink orders, too. On the twentieth."

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Spryly raised his eyebrows. Although it might be a one-off job, he had to admit he liked the sound of it. A boxing match would surely have a lively atmosphere. "Sounds like a piece o' cake that."

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.

"Great," Peregrine said, "And you can get to London?"

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Not being able to apparate always made it that much harder to get from place to place compared to most other wizards but he did have floo access presently so it was at least doable. "That I can. Where we talking?"

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.

Peregrine relayed the address for the boxing venue. "I'd expect you to be there at 10 o'clock in the morning. You'll get paid a galleon for the day," he said, having found that overpaying the help resulted in more effective help. (That he was usually the help was not lost on him. If he was paid more he would be better at his job.)

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A galleon?! Spryly could barely stop his eyes from bulging. It'd been a very long time since he'd last even touched a galleon, let alone had one in his pocket. To be fair they were pretty heavy anyway so not the best thing to have sitting in his threadbare trouser pockets but the weight of it was very satisfying. "You got yourself a deal." He'd have done it for half, he'd quit his job to have that one galleon which was good because he might have to. He was of a mind to ask if he had any other more permanent positions opening up but decided to wait until he'd impressed him with a day of work first and had that galleon in the palm of his hand.

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.

"Good," Peregrine said, "And to be clear, if you try to skim anything from the bets, I will break your hand." It could be risky to plant that idea in people's heads, but he was erring on the side to establish this early.

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He hadn't thought that far ahead yet but it wasn't at all outside the realm of possibility that he might find himself a little light-fingered on the day. If they were going to be scrutinizing things though it'd probably be wiser to keep his nose clean, how was he supposed to supplement his meagre wages if his best stealing hand was broken? "I'm honest as the day is long, nothin' to worry 'bout from me." The grin he flashed was supposed to be reassuring but probably didn't seem half as convincing as he thought. "I didn't catch your name...?"

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.

Peregrine was a little worried about the grin the man flashed him, but he could just have Firecrest keep an eye on him and hope for the best. "Umbernauld," he supplied, "And you are?"

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   Questor Spryly

"Spryly." He extended a grubby hand for the other man to hopefully shake. He was feeling oddly optimistic considering it was only a one day gig.

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Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.