CH1: T h e W a t ch m a k e r .
Jul. 23rd, 2012 12:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wheatdos posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
clockwork_science
[The dim lighting of a contemporary candelabrum left the entire room in a series of long dark shadows. The office of Wheatley McArthur. The place in itself was cramped comfortably in stacks of books, spreadsheets, papers and mangled clock pieces that haven’t been touched in ages. A substantial amount of dust covered the surrounding shelves, undisturbed by the fingers of the clockmaker.
In the silence, there was a strangely soothing and hypnotic sound of the mundane ticking of clockwork. The man, seated at his desk, kept his head low as he was madly scribbling his notes:
Funds
7000
-3200
-------
3800
-900
-------
2900
-2000
-------
900
-625
-------
275
-105
-------
175
-135
-------
40
He let out a large tired sigh, and pushed the messy strands of his hair back. 40 pounds for the entire month.. He put his head down against his desk and closed his eyes, synchronizing his breaths to the sound of the clocks. 40 pounds. 4 weeks. He’d be living off of 10 pounds a week. He knew that he’d be able to do it alone, but... he had Cecelia now. His apprentice. The idea of how he would be able to make ends meet literally made him sick.
He knew that he would have to get into that business again.]
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:04 am (UTC)You're taller than they said.
[[He puts the cigar in his mouth.]]
But so lanky... hardly the face of a killer.
I like that. No wonder no one suspects you.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:08 am (UTC)[He started to speak, and coughed slightly in response to the cigar.]
I...well... I don't like to think of myself as... a killer, mate.
[Wheatley cautiously looks around to see if he can get himself out of this one...]
...If you think of it, in that way... you-you can't accuse a gun maker for the crimes that it's creation causes...
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:10 am (UTC)You must be one of the naive ones.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:13 am (UTC)...
You... you cant arrest a gun maker for that-- can you?
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:15 am (UTC)At that moment, a woman comes by, setting drinks on the table. Incredibly expensive drinks.]]
Please. Have a drink... what did you say your name was?
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:18 am (UTC)[Wheatley quickly realizes the worth of the drinks, and takes a careful swig. He didn't even think to suspect of them being poisoned or anything.]
...Can a gun maker get arrested for that?
[He repeats. He needs to know.]
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:21 am (UTC)That makes you nervous. Are you worried someone will trace the damages back to your clocks?
[[He pulls out a photograph. It's a photograph of an entire family. Fletcher. Notably, the man is standing beside the daughter, dressed as a butler.]]
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:31 am (UTC)Upon seeing the photograph, everything made a bit more sense.]
You... you work for them?!?
[He didn't know that even the servants were filthy rich... the man probably came from a prominent family. The disbelief in his voice is embarrassing, so he returns to a more formal tone.]
I... I'm sorry mate. I haven't made a clock in ages... I don't think I can.
[But the money...]
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:38 am (UTC)I thought you'd say that, McArthur.
[[Some rummaging...]]
I'm willing to make an offer for your trouble.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:44 am (UTC)...
[Who could the Fletchers want dead? They own everything. He assumed that the man was being a messenger for them.
At the offer... he just hoped it wasn't another gun. Once is enough for a day.]
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:51 am (UTC)The man pulls it out a series of £50 bills. He sets one on the table.]]
One, two, three, four...
[[As he sets them down, he looks up at McArthur to see his face.]]
...ten, eleven, twelve...
[[He's grinning.]]
Twenty... twenty one...
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 12:56 am (UTC)There's been a change of plans.
Wheatley gets comfortable in his chair.]
...
What... do you want me to do...?
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 01:01 am (UTC)That's the spirit.
Well...I want you to make a pocket watch for me Mr.McArthur. Is that not what you do?
...
The most beautiful, one to appeal to all the little girls. One with that beautiful Fletcher insignia.
One that one would keep close to their heart if not only to go to bed.
I want you to make me the most beautiful cocktail of death, Mr.McArthur.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 01:05 am (UTC)Realizing at that moment that the drink that the man had ordered was not a beer... but a cocktail.]
You have my word.
[The money. The money was enough to set him off. Wheatley held his hand across the table, as if to shake the mans.]
no subject
Date: 2012-07-30 01:12 am (UTC)Do not disappoint me. I have ways of finding people who disappoint me.
[[A smile.]]
Should we timeskip?
Date: 2012-07-30 01:17 am (UTC)I'm not one that's hard to find...
[He says with a laugh... a joking tone.]
Sure! :]
Date: 2012-07-30 01:24 am (UTC)[[The man parts his hands with Wheatley.]]
I expect it in a matter of weeks.
We have the new arrangement now. xD
Date: 2012-08-29 12:33 am (UTC)[He nods, the silliest of grins on his face.]
'Specially with money like that, mate.
Shouldn't be flashing that around, y' know.
N-not in a place like this.
[He collects up the money, stuffing it into his jacket...]