(no subject)

[makeadeal]

There are all manner of odd jobs that come with owning a business such as his.  There are books to keep, records to maintain, trinkets to sell, and, on occasion, assess.

Mr. Gold sits tonight at a well-lit table, though the lighting is not meant to be either  welcoming nor a deterrent; in short, it is nothing other than a means to an end, this end being, this particular evening, a chance to clean a rather lovely, old-fashioned beer stein, heavily enameled, with the sort of lid that flips open when pressed on with a thumb.  He turns it over in white gloved hands, searching for chips or cracks, for smudges or clouded color.

There are six more in the shop, but it hardly makes sense to bring more than one with him, now does it?



[Tiny tag: Mr. Gold]

Comments

[puckishly]

It's a clever piece of work, or so Puck would admit if you asked him.

But the craftsmanship alone may not wholly explain the way he's peering down from the rafters.

Shy? Curious? Wary? Couples' bonding with Havelock?

Who knows.

[makeadeal]

"I find," says the man below, conversationally, as he carefully polishes a shine back onto the pewter lid, "the whole idea of hanging about rafters both presumptuous and odd."

He tips his head, considers the gentle glow of electric light on the molded surface, sets to once more.

"Though I suppose the dangers of it are self-correcting. And it has a lovely view, I shouldn't wonder."

[puckishly]

"What? Preposterous," Puck volleys back from behind a beam.

The sound of a sniff is (exaggeratedly) audible.

"I take to correction very poorly, whatever its kind may be."

[makeadeal]

"Do you, now?"

Puck is loud, brash. In contrast, Mr. Gold's voice is as soft as the suede with which he polishes the enamel, before turning it this way and that.

"Then I'd mind falling, if I were you."

Once there was a man with a limp who became a dark Cheshire cat grin sitting in the shadows and giggling, but that was very long ago, dearie, and very
very
far away.

He is not so limber as he once was.

[puckishly]

"Mind falling?"

He shakes his head.

"I shan't mind a fall at all. 'Tis how one lands that is the trouble."

[makeadeal]

"Then I should simply request you try your level best not to fall on anyone's head and double the effect."

Now he does glance up, and a glint of gold shows briefly in his smile.

"And what, I wonder, is so fine about the rafters?"

[puckishly]

How terribly curious.

"Oh, the company," Puck replies, with perfect honesty.

(Also, the hint of a dreamy smile. His lacks sparkle of any kind.)

"Without a doubt."

[queenofmay]

Marian had been reading security reports, and hadn't quite correctly judged the reach to her tea cup, instead upsetting the bowl of brown sugar cubes. The bowl fell over with a small clatter on the table, sending the falling and shooting out. Across her table, and the floor, and....and under the table next to hers, and the feet of the one patron at it.

[makeadeal]

He pauses, though the only part of him that moves are his eyes, sliding down, to the right, at the nudge of porcelain against the polished leather of his shoe.

Down goes the stein - carefully, oh, carefully, you never know what little slip might injure something so delicate - and he bends, a stiff motion, to collect the rattling bowl.

"I think this is yours," he says, holding it up.

His smile is all amiability.

[queenofmay]

Marian had looked up at the first clattering noise, wincing as the sugar went pelting in several direction, but the container at least in one. "My apologies. I wasn't watching what I was doing."

Sometimes Security logs could be terribly interesting in ways that still surprised her, even this many years later. The types of people who got into problems. Why, and how, and what had happened. How long people had to be held.

Marian had gotten down from her chair to squat and pick up the biggest pile of cubes in to place in the napkin she taken from her tea tray, pushing her skirts back and out of the way to get as many as she could.

[makeadeal]

"Please," he says, rising, one gloved hand taking up his cane to lean upon as he gets up, "allow me."

Settling to a knee is a reluctant, stiff motion, but the fingers which pluck up sugar cubes and drop them, bouncing, into the bowl are clever and quick. "I fear you'll need new sugar for your tea, however. One never knows what might have been spilled on the floor earlier."

[queenofmay]

"Still others would suggest I should leave it for the waitrats or the loompas, as well," Marian said, with an interestingly giving tip to her head. "But I prefer to take care of my own mistakes. Being out a little sugar is hardly the worst thing that could befall a day."

"Thank you," she said, once she'd gotten all that she could find between herself and him. Leaning over to pour the cubes from her napkin into the small tureen-like container.

[makeadeal]

"Oh, I'd never suggest that, no."

He holds out the bowl for her, then stands, stiff and awkward, levering himself up on his cane. Once standing, he inspects the fingers of his glove, rubs at the sugar and dirt there, and strips them off with a resigned motion.

"Allow me," he says, once more, and flags a waitrat. "A little more sugar," he requests, "for..."

Pausing, he turns to her, hands clasped over the head of the cane. "I beg your pardon. I don't know your name."

[morethanprops]

Moist is wearing his second best suit, tweed with a look of wear to it as he enters and he slows as he passes Mr. Gold's table,

"Is that of dwarven make, Uberwaldian perhaps?"

[makeadeal]

There is no hitch of his hands, no pause in his work.

There may be the faintest suggestion of a smile, hiding there at the corner of his mouth, evident only in a brief and faulty flicker of gold. "It's an interesting premise, to be sure," he muses. His voice is soft, his accent the smoothest of lilts, the sort of voice that falls with a conversational tone on even the hardest ear.

Now he looks up, stein cradled carefully in the palm of one hand, cloth held in the other. He takes in the tweed, its state, and the man wearing it.

His smile is a slipping curve of apologetic good-humor.

"But impossible, I'm afraid. There are no dwarves in Storybrooke, and this -" the stein settles with a thump on the table top: "- is Bavarian."

[morethanprops]

"Bavaria, I'm certain I know that name. It's an area of Earth, I believe. I've been told it rather resembles Uberwald just without the vampires, werewolves and dwarves. It's still quite a beautiful stein, not meant for quaffing but actually drinking,"

Mugs for quaffing need to stand up to quite a lot of wear. Moist looks rather confused, worlds can be so alike as he admires this man's tone and style.

He has a look that will be noticed but seems to be trying to insure that if he's noticed, he's liked. Moist would much rather disappear.

[makeadeal]

"You're quite correct."

He leans a little back in his chair, and that smile remains, a slight, amused sliver of a curve.

"At least, in the matter of Bavaria being an area of Earth. Lovely place, I hear, though I can hardly speak to its resembling...did you say Uberwald?" The strange name fits oddly on his tongue, for a moment.

And then he smiles again, like it's clicked into place.

"However, you're wrong as to what the stein is meant for."

[morethanprops]

"Uberwald is a region on the Disc. Oh, please enlighten me,"

His voice is light and curious, he does wish to learn especially of another world. Steins are something he knows rather well as he did grow up in Uberwald where they were quite common. Though the more highly decorated one invariably belonged to dwarves.

[makeadeal]

"This is a collector's piece."

He holds the stein up, showing the play of light glossy over the bright enamel and dull on pewter.

"I wouldn't suggest drinking from it. It would decrease the value quite sharply."

[sunbaked_baker]

There's a red-headed baker nearby in yellow t-shirt and orange jeans, arranging a small tray of cinnamon rolls and other baked goods. The last of the afternoon's baking. Almost all sold.

As she finishes, she looks around the bar room to find a likely place to start. It's the way the man at the nearby table is looking over the stein that catches her eye. The stein itself makes Rae wonder if she could talk Charlie into letting the coffeehouse serve its beer in something similar. Mel would certainly approve - he's been complaining about the size of the beer glasses ever since Charlie had given in and gotten a general liquor license. Something like that would probably meet Mel's preference for size as well as Charlie's preference for class.

Forgive her if it seems like she's staring.

[makeadeal]

Whether Mr. Gold is particularly annoyed by staring or whether he likes or dislikes baked goods is erroneous.

He notes them, of course. It doesn't do to miss details in a place like this.

His mouth curves into a sickle moon of a smile.

"Lovely piece, is it not?"

The stein in question is held, briefly, to the light, so she might admire it more closely, before he sets to work again. "I don't suppose you're in the market for something like it?"

[sunbaked_baker]

Good thing she didn't assume anything either way, then. That way there's no chance of being in the wrong.

"Not me," Rae answers with a slight smile. To her Dark Sight, the texture of this man's shadow (lined in red with the tiniest golden flicker at the very edge) is somehow different than what she's used to, but there's nothing to tell her what is different about it. "Just thinking maybe something like that would solve an ongoing dispute between my step-dad and my boyfriend."

[makeadeal]

"Now, what makes you say that?"

He sets the stein down, carefully, and starts slipping the gloves from his fingers.

"I suppose it would depend on the manner of the dispute."

[sunbaked_baker]

"My step-father knows more about champagne than he does about beer - and he likes a touch of class to what he serves."

Despite the coffeehouse's locale and primary clientele.

"He doesn't want his restaurant to become a bar, while my boyfriend feels that the customers will want more beer for their money than what'll fit into the glasses we currently use. I figure I'll try suggesting beer steins as a compromise."

[makeadeal]

"When it comes to sheer volume, you really can't go wrong with them," he agrees, mild.

"Though I would perhaps suggest using something a little less decorative. Plain pewter is hardy, easy to clean, and engraves nicely. Should you wish to add a logo."

His smile widens, faintly.

"I'd suggest it. It adds a touch of class to an otherwise plain, and utilitarian object."