Blood, blood, gallons of the stuff! [Jesse - Invite]

[Charlie]

Charlie pressed a clammy hand to her jaw as she took in the scene before her with an unreadable expression. She lowered her mouth into her palm, nose scrunching against the outer edge of her pinky as her gaze methodically swept the back room. Finally, she released the breath she’d been holding, puffed cheeks deflating steadily. I’m fucked, was the first thought that crossed her mind. Or was it, truly? Jesus christ!

Never before had she seen so much blood in one place, never like this, anyway. It looked like a murder scene, though instead of a body there were just over one hundred glass bottles fragmented across the stream of coagulating red. Half of the week’s second shipment of bottled blood had met an unfortunate end against the cement floor of the chilled storage room.

The air was cool, and whatever smell might source from the spill—if any, what does she know?—was suppressed. Yet, the sight of Tianna, the latest recruit on the Serpentine team, stepping through the spilled blood made Charlie’s insides churn. The squelch of each tentative footstep was not a welcome sound.


“Mind the glass,” she warned, the tips of her fingers feeling numb as she dropped them from her face. There was no way around the mess; it needed to be cleaned up soon. Charlie had no idea where to start, but Tianna was looking to her for guidance, and it was—much to her dismay—her responsibility as duty manager to call the shots.

Mop the blood up first, deal with the glass after? Sweep the glass up first, then mop up the blood? Charlie might have been open to the alternative lifestyle of Serpentine’s patrons, but her purposeful disinterest in the details wavered at the sight before her. Where did all this blood even come from? Sure, she’d seen containers with pig blood’s in the butcher’s section of Chinese market she frequented, but that was…nothing compared to all this.

At least 50 litres of blood coated the floor and, she noticed with a sinking stomach, glossed the walls. It would take a good hour to clean all of this up. It would take even longer to replace the loss, for the next delivery wasn’t due for another three days.

“Okay. The mop, get the mop and start with, with that. Use—there’s bleach in the staff bathroom, under the—under the sink, in the. You’ll see it,” Charlie instructed, reaching for Tianna’s arm just in time to stop her from stepping past into the hallway, “Take off ye shoes.”

The mess needed to remain contained, but it couldn’t remain hidden. It wasn’t just a loss of… Jesus ****. All that blood suggested a loss of life, but from a more detached perspective, it also represented lost investment. Charlie had no idea what the reaction would be; it was the first time there’d be an accident of this magnitude since she’d started, and as duty manager she felt the fault fully on her shoulders. It was Tianna’s mistake, but the burden was shared.

“I’ll go talk to Jesse,” she said, walking past the other after checking her soles were clean. It was perhaps the only thing clean from the knees down. Her black jeans felt damp against her shins, and there was an unnatural sheen to her shoelaces. She dragged her sneakers against the clean cement for good measure, only partially reassured they left no marks.

Shaken, she made for the staircase and tried to dispel her thoughts. There had been a lull in service upstairs, which she’d taken advantage of to check up on the newest recruit’s progress with the stock count. Charlie wished she hadn’t been down, so that she could have heard about it instead of witnessing the scene unfold.

Squaring her shoulders, the blonde glanced into the parlour and saw his station—the one she’d most often seen him in—empty. The walk to the back office gave her an extra few seconds to compose herself, but it also allowed the blood seep further into the denim. It didn’t feel any different from spilled beer, but the fact that it wasn’t rendered it completely different.

The knocks on the door were succinct and loud, indicative of her intention before the familiar beep of the keypad accepting the security code alerted of her imminent entrance. She popped her head around the door to ensure she wasn’t interrupting, full lips giving way to an uneasy smile.

“We’ve got a wee problem.”

[Jesse Fforde]

Serpentine was Jesse’s second home these days – some of the staff might not notice, given his nocturnal schedule. Most of the time he was perched in the tattoo parlour; he was getting more and more customers with each passing week, the humans coming back despite their natural aversion to Jesse’s aura. Jesse liked to think it was part of the allure. They came back as a challenge to themselves, as dares given to them by others. If they could withstand the creepy vibes that emanated from the Necromancer, then they were worthy of the tattoos he etched permanently into their skin.

The Third Circle had become a constant reminder of the things Jesse had tried to build, the things which had failed. If there was one thing Jesse Fforde loathed, it was failing. There had to be some course, right? Maybe he needed a psychologist. Someone to speak to. It didn’t even have to be someone qualified. Anyone would do. Clover talked to people. She had problems, and she talked to other people about them. She worked through them, with other people. Sometimes she worked through them with him; and most of the time he worked through his **** with her. But when it was concerning her? When there were things he couldn’t say to her, for fear of breaking her, or losing her? Who did he have to turn to?

That wasn’t something he wanted to think about, either. There were so many people he could talk to, but did he trust any of them? The past had told him that trust was not something to give lightly. No, he didn’t want to talk about his issues with anyone else. And so he just bottled them up. And came to work. And focused on work. And was, no doubt, a bundle of sinister energy because of it.

When Charlie stuck her head into the office door, she’d find Jesse looking at her, brows furrowed and mouth set into what had become a trademark frown. It wasn’t a soft frown, or one that inspired any kind of sympathy. It was jagged, and almost angry. The ice-blue of his eyes were cloudy, shadowed by the grim set of his brow. It was an expression that he adopted subconsciously. Given the night of rolling around the sheets with Clover and the relative success of the bonfire, the expression should be softer. More welcoming. But the problems hadn’t gone away. They were still lingering, hanging on like a stain in one’s favourite shirt.

And now here was Charlie, with that adorably nervous smile on her face. A problem.

Hiring Charlie was one of the best things Jesse had done for this place; she had turned out to be a hard worker, and though she came in a small package he was told that she packed quite a punch. At least, the other employees seemed to have no trouble doing as they were told, and Jesse was greeted with a smooth sailing ship every night he came in to work. Jesse put his pen down, eyes glassy as he looked past Charlie, as if trying to see through the wall to the gym beyond. He was already standing – ready to follow Charlie to wherever this problem might be. His mind immediately jumped to nasty conclusions like an outbreak of zombies or a fadebeast suddenly appearing in the foam pit. They liked to pop up out of nowhere. ******* assholes.

”What kind of problem?” he asked, hoping to narrow down the possibilities.

[Charlie]

Ignorant to the existence of vampires and the dangers that lurked in this very establishment, Charlie’s worries didn’t extend past the immediate damage and loss of property. Were she privy to the supernatural—of which she’d already brushed up against once too many not to be suspicious (of what exactly, was the question), she might have thought better than to leave Tianna downstairs alone, surrounded by spilled (human) blood. In light of not knowing any better, and selfishly succumbing to her discomfort under the pretence of authority, Charlie wasn’t in any rush to return to the scene. It wouldn’t help her case if he saw the mess as she’d left it. She hoped it looked worse than it was, but she wouldn’t know until she spilled the beans.

The look on Jesse’s face suggested she was out of luck. Though she didn’t interact with him beyond what was necessary for the business, she saw him frequently enough to notice the near-permanent scowl that distorted his otherwise handsome features. She’d noticed his demeanour changed, but she cared little to mind his non-business business. Were she more comfortable around him, she might have been bold enough to ask, but their relationship was strictly a working one. Being an employee had never kept Charlie from forming friendships (and even romantic entanglements) with her employers and coworkers, but there was something about his presence that sparked something primitive deep within her mind. Around him, she found her insatiable need for socialisation stunted, the intensity of his gaze discomforting if it lingered too long.

“Blood,” she offered cryptically, slipping hastily through the opening before shutting the door behind her. The music and conversation from the bar grew distant, the walls muffling the sounds. She gestured placatingly, open palms before her as she explained herself, willing him to sit back down. She really did not want him to see the mess. The press of damp jeans as she stepped forward concretised her disgust.

“The chill room is a bloody mess. This morning’s shipment is, for a lack of a better word, gone?”

Her hands dropped to her sides as she stood with her back to the door, halfway inside the office. It didn’t feel odd standing here, as she often spent a few hours at the desk herself setting up rosters and handling shipments, but she rarely frequented the office when he was in it. Right now, it was decidedly his office.

[Jesse Fforde]

Blood, she said. At the sound of the word Jesse’s head twitched, a flicker of heat in his eyes the only indication of his tenuous, passionate relationship with blood. Charlie’s reluctance was noted, the way she stepped inside and closed the door rather than taking Jesse to the mess, to the problem, as he had assumed she would.

And yet, he could still smell it. Not the fresh, hot blood that he was accustomed to enjoying, but it was blood none-the-less. Bones in his neck cracked as his head rolled on his shoulders. Poor Charlie had no idea the danger she put herself in, coming in here smelling of blood and being so deliciously human herself. She was a blood-soaked morsel intended as bait for a shark. And yet, he had to remind himself, she was a good employee. She kept a tight ship, she kept it afloat when he could not be there. I must not eat my employees.

”Gone?” he repeated. Rather than sit back down behind the desk, Jesse moved to stand in front of it, his backside leaning against the edge of it, and his arms crossed over his chest. The smell of blood was coming from somewhere, and Jesse couldn’t help but narrow his eyes upon Charlie’s feet, focusing on the source of the scent.

”I wouldn’t say it’s gone, Charlie. I’m going to guess it’s instead all over the floor. A better word would be spoiled. Is there someone’s pay I should dock for this, or was it an honest accident?” he asked. He supposed that Charlie was telling Jesse because eventually he would find out. He would have to re-order, the numbers wouldn’t much. Not to mention he’d just know, just by walking into the stock room. It didn’t matter how thoroughly they cleaned it, he had a feeling he’d still be able to smell it.

The point, he supposed, was that he would have to re-order. It wasn’t exactly cheap. But maybe he’d be able to talk to Ariadne and get some kind of discount, with the promise of prolonged business.

[Charlie]

For a fleeting moment, Charlie wondered whether she’d done right in coming into the room at all; essentially locked behind a coded door that only she and the boss knew the code to. It was a preposterous thought really, but she struggled to dispel it what with her mind clouded by recent events. Yet, she rationalised, there was no reason for such unfounded paranoia. Jesse’s presence had always been a source of discomfort—less so now due to the relative familiarity. Nothing untoward had ever happened between them; the clinical precision with which he handled their interactions was a constant that wasn’t likely to change. Right?

There was something about his mannerisms now that put her on edge. Perhaps it was her own discomfort at having blood on her, simply amplified by his presence. Charlie glanced away, playing off her unexplained aversion as casual curiosity for the room she knew all-too-well.

Spoiled.
An odd choice of wording, really.

“Honest mistake,” she replied matter-of-factly, lying through her teeth. It wasn’t a lie lie, but given the choice to point fingers, she was clearly abstaining from telling him the truth. Her position at Serpentine was one of compromise; she was a player for both teams. The whole situation was awkward and unfortunate, but beneath soiled jeans Charlie remained who she’d always been: eager to extend her loyalty only to those who proved themselves worthy of it. Tianna would have to prove herself a team player, and not mistake a second chance for blanket clemency. As Al Capone had once said, Don't mistake my kindness for weakness. The spill in and of itself was an accident, but even accidents had consequences. Charlie worked a two strike system on this ship, but repeated failure was met with ruthlessness. A sinking ship put everyone at risk.

“If anything like this happens again, I’ll take on their hours without pay until I find a suitable replacement.”

Her hands found her back pockets, thumbs poking past narrow hips as she arched her hips forward. There was an audible crack of her lower spine, a necessary release to the discomfort she felt. If Jesse felt the need to override her authority on this matter, Charlie wouldn’t put up a fight. He was the boss, after all. It was his business, and business was what she had come to talk to him about: “We’ll need another shipment as soon as possible.”

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse stared at Charlie was unabashed thoughtfulness. It wasn’t a whimsical thoughtfulness, but instead the kind that caused the muscles in his jaw to dance. There was no doubt that Charlie was uncomfortable; Jesse could either make it worse or try to alleviate the situation. Frankly, he was in too bad a mood to be entirely forgiving.

With his arms remained crossed over his chest and his stare cold and severe, he could hear that voice in his head telling him to just let her go. To thank her for letting him know, so that he could email Arbor Vitae and re-order the last shipment. Exactly the same. And yet, to let Charlie go, at this point, would give Jesse no satisfaction. Although, he wasn’t really thinking straight. It wasn’t as if he made a conscious decision that if he couldn’t have Charlie’s blood, he’d have her fear. It just happened.

”If it happens again?” he said.

”But this time I should just…” he shrugged, slowly, lips curled downward in a faux-frown. ”Let it slide? Dock no one’s pay? Lose money?” he asked. He couldn’t understand why Charlie wouldn’t give up the name of the actual culprit; why she would choose to be punished for their mistake.

Honest mistake, she had said. A mistake anyone could have made. A mistake Jesse himself could have made – and he would have punished himself severely. With a temper such as his, the entire store room would have been slaughtered. Probably best that one of the staff had made the honest mistake. The losses would be less. A sharp sigh hissed from his nose, finger and thumb pinching the bridge.

”It’s fine. I’ll order some more. We’ll make up the losses,” he said. It was Charlie’s cue to leave, if that’s what she wanted.

[Charlie]

Charlie didn’t wilt under the weight of his cutting glare. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d chosen the high road when underhandedness would have been to her advantage, but she prided herself on having integrity. If she threw Tianna under the bus after one honest mistake, then how was she to inspire respect and trust? If anything, she’d be forcing her hand, and the next time something happened it’d be kept from Charlie, putting her in a far more perilous situation.

The worn fabric of her jeans’ pockets twisted in her hands as she curled her fingers into tight fists. Just because she was willing to step up for someone she had taken under her wing didn’t mean she was happy to let him push all the blame onto her. Her icy stare matched his, expression devoid of emotion. She wouldn’t give him an inch.

If Jesse hired more staff to begin with, there wouldn’t be so much rushing about behind the scenes. If he gave her a damn say in the hiring of the bar staff, then maybe there’d be more competent employees at her disposal — people less likely to make expensive mistakes like this one. However, Charlie was now stuck with who he had hired, and though her faith in Tianna was limited, it didn’t mean she’d be giving up on the girl any sooner than she would with anyone else. A two-strike system with few exceptions. Not to mention there was no telling there’d be someone to replace Tianna if she got sacked. Charlie had already given up her days off every other week so that Tom would stay on working at the parlour on Mondays.

“Great,” she replied flatly, reining in her anger. Her hands fell from her pockets and, without another word, she exited the office. It took all of her willpower not to slam the door on her way out. She closed it a bit more firmly than was strictly given then the weight of the wood. For a beat, Charlie stood with her back to the door, suppressing the need to walk right back in and give him a piece of her mind.

[Jesse Fforde]

There was no urge on Jesse’s part to be the magnanimous employee. He’d spent enough of his time bending over backward to please the whims of a ‘family’ who didn’t give a ****, the majority of whom chose to disregard every good thing he’d ever done for them in favour of the bad. According to them, people weren’t allowed to have bad days, and they weren’t allowed to make mistakes. They expected too much from him, and yet no matter what he tried it wasn’t enough.

For a few, anyway. A select number were loyal enough, and forgiving enough. A select number he would continue to bend over backward for, depending on the situation. His employees were not his fledglings, nor were they directly descended from his blood. Yes, he had offered jobs to the family, and had had high hopes. Those had fallen through too. It was a bitterness that he often though he had let go of, but instead it lingered and left him in a constant, unshiftable bad mood.

It was clear that Jesse had angered Charlie. In every twitch of her expression and with the semi-slam of the door behind her, he knew that she, too, had expectations that he would not meet. He was her employer. He paid her properly – beyond what other employers paid – and with all the benefits, too. If he discovered that she hadn’t had a break, he forced her to have one. All the employees got free food, if they wanted to eat within the establishment. Honest mistake or not, the destruction of the shipment of Arbor Vitae’s finest cost the business money, and Jesse knew that he had a right to be frustrated.

No apology would be forthcoming.

And now all he could think about was blood.

He decided, on a whim, that he would go for a ride to Arbor Vitae; maybe Ariadne would be there, and he could talk to her personally. He’d put his order in face to face. Really, it was an excuse to get some fresh air – and maybe find some poor sod to drain. The leather jacket was swiped from the back of the office chair, and if anyone were paying any attention, they’d see their boss leaving the establishment via the stairs, taking them up two at a time.