Revenge and Recompense

[Muira MacKinley]

Muira's entrance into work like any night was to step into the hot kitchen and work her way tot he bar out front. Kicking off her shoes and removing her tattered cloak she peered about. She wasn't surprised the pirate was not there, but she was disappointed. He probably had been some roughen cashing in on an appearance similar to that of the late consort.

She pushed back her hair tying it firmly in place and paused to reach for her apron. One thing to be said, the extra tip had been a help. Though her boss had seen the exchange and had insisted on his cut, leaving her a mere thirty percent of the meager wage she had made the night before, it had provided her with a fresh peach for lunch and added an extra loaf of bread and a hunk of ground meat to her fridge. It wasn't much, but for her it was a feast, she didn't make enough money to have real meals, most of her wage went to rent and paying for wood for her fireplace.

She for the most part ate two meals a day, a piece of bread with a preserve on it for flavor and a small glass of milk, and then for supper before she came here she would have a small meal of a bit of rice and a very small portion of meat if she could afford it that week, if not simply a potato and another piece of bread. There was no wonder why she was a thin woman. She lived in the city, without room to grow food she had to pay for it, on occasion when the old man left for whatever reason the cooks would divide up what remained of the night's meals to the staff, it wasn't much but it always felt like a feast to her.

Muira tied her apron in place and moved to the old woman who looked down at her, "No admirers tonigh' huh?" She drawled.

Muira shook her head, "Probably some down on 'is luck hard case, comin' in to drown 'is sorrows," she answered a she picked up the loaded tray, "Where to?"

The old woman pointed out the tables and Muira began another night work, playing the hard to get waitress to the drunk men and putting hours towards her meager couple silver salary as she did.

[Jonathan Flynn]

The man sat alone at a table in the back of the Bloody Drake Inn. He was neither drunk nor of poor appearance, but he was very hungry and very thirsty.

He was also very much more than a little frustrated.

His ship had been severly damaged in a gale and it was going to take two weeks to be sufficiently repaired to be seaworthy again. That would be two weeks with no income for him and his crew, and two weeks of boredom.

Captain Jonathan Flynn lifted his hand to get the attention of the young waitress. He was ready to place his order.

[Muira MacKinley]

Muira noticed the wave as she was approching the table a tray full of drinks in her hand. "Be right wit'cha' hun," she called on her way passed to drop off the drinks at the table setting each mug with their owner and collecting those empties that had accumulated before she arrived. Setting the empties on the tray she headed back the way she had come and paused at the sailors table. She could tell he was a sailor by not only his dress but the distinctive smell of the ocean that lingered on him. "What can I get yea'?" She asked as she proped the tray on her hip looking down at him.

[Jonathan Flynn]

He watched the waitress approach. At last he was going to get something to eat. He was famished.

"Good eve, m'lady," he said to be polite. "I'll have some of that delicious lamb stew that I've been smelling since I walked in, and two mugs of ale, please." He knew the first would be downed before the first bite of stew was partaken.

He then looked up into her eyes. "Oh, and if you have a room available here, I'd like that too."

He was exhausted and had no desire to return to the broken ship this eve.

[Muira MacKinley]

Muira smiled and nodded, "Absolutly, I'll see to getting you our finest sweet," she answered in a naturally flirting way, and swiftly moved to head away. Her barefeet were silent on the floor as she headed for the kitchen and pushed inside, "One lamb stew please," then ducked back out to get the two mugs of ale filling them to almost spilling and set them on the tray before moving back into the kitchen to add the bowl of stew some bread and a select few pieces of cheese and celery sticks to the tray before heading back into the bar, feeling her stomach growl at the smell of the good food as she moved back to his table.

"Here you are babe'," she stated with that scotish accent as she started unloading the tray in front of him, "one stew some bread and sides and two ales, I'll see to your room. Would yea' like me to start yea' a tab?"

[Jonathan Flynn]

"Yes, please start a tab for me, hon," he said as he picked up his fork and inhaled the scent of the stew. It was then that he heard her stomach growl as she stood at his table.

"M'lady, you are as hungry as I am. Why don't you sit with me and I'll buy you your own meal. That's more important than my room."

He looked up at her thinking that he would very much like to talk with her.

[Muira MacKinley]

Muira looked down at him and smiled softly, very tempted to take him up on the offer, she was very much hungry, but she was always hungry. She shook her head and smiled softly, "Thank you but I couldn't, not only would it be inappropriate, but my boss would have kittens," she answered, remembering her bosses reaction the last time she had taken time off on her shift the night before, "I'm afraid I wont be stopping to eat until my shift ends, thanks anyway though," she answered, already starting to turn to head back for the bar to get him his room.

[Jonathan Flynn]

"Wait!" he called out as she was beginning to turn to leave to inquire about the availability of a room for him. "When do you get off from your shift?"

He gave her a little grin, "I would like to take you out for a meal...someplace besides here. Someplace where we could just talk and where you wouldn't have to worry about your boss."

[Muira MacKinley]

She looked back at the stranger and grinned, "You'll be lucky to find a place, but," she shrugged, "one," she answered, figuring the sailor would be long in his bed asleep before the clock struck one and that she would wonder off home like she did every night. "I'll get that room for you, and if your still here when I get off, I'll go where ever you like," she added with a chuckle and headed to the bar seeking out the key to the largest room they had and returning to hand him the key.

[Muira MacKinley]

Muira left the sailor to his meal as she headed back to work, she had a job to do and that meant serving drinks and making up for the distraction that was last night. As the evening wore on she glanced from time to see if the man was there, passing from time to time to serve a drink here or there. Muira was use to working for her every tip, swinging her hip provocatively and flirting with the men at the tables, tonight was no different, as she filled glasses she saw more then one leer down her shirt and had at least five men touch her backside on her way passed them.

One man even pulled her into his lap, almost upsetting the pitcher of ale in her hand as he laughed and invited her to spend the night with him, one meaty hand moving to her breast which she quickly pushed away with a hot little flirting remark to get his buddies riled and get her out of his arms as fast as possible. She filled his mug and slipped away. It was a typical night for her, nothing new, and as the night ended patrons made their way out of the Drake for the night, some drunker then they should have been for a week night, half had jobs to see to in the morning. A few she knew were staying in the inn as the cooks closed down the kitchen for the night early when they ran out of food, no leftovers for the staff tonight, and once getting their share of the tips, a very small amount after the fat owner took his cut, they left.

Muira started the job of wiping tables and putting up chairs as the place started to close down at last, her fellow waitress grabbing up the broom and starting to sweep up the mess of food debris before switching to a mop to begin the job of mopping up lost drinks and the occasional mystery fluid. Muira well worn and ready to go home for a small meal of bread and cheese before she would climb onto her couch to curl up and watch the flames of the fire in her apartment before dawn, turned to look around to see if her sailor was indeed still there waiting for her.

[Muira MacKinley]

She swiped the cloth over the table once more before dipping it into the bucket of hot soaping water and straightened taking the now soiled water back to the kitchen and dumping it down the drain, ringing the water from the cloth and setting it to dry for the night before moving to wash her own hands before heading back into the bar. She tugged her worn boots on over her tired feet and stifling a yawn she straightened waving a good night she collected the couple copper that was her wage for the night and headed for the door.

Muira stepped out into the night, pausing the let the warm spring night caress her cheeks as she looked up at the full night sky of stars and smiling softly to herself she moved to set off for home her stomach loudly reminding her of her hunger.