CH1: T h e W a t ch m a k e r .

[wheatdos]

[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.]

Comments

[whatsinheeeere]

I'm sure you know how you can do that.

[[Upon further observation, not that he was closer, it would be easy to see that Gafney was not tapping his finger against the counter, but a revolver.]]

Stop wasting my time, McArthur. I have places to be. So many places, and people who are in my hair that I can't get rid of until you give me the watches. I'm prepared to negotiate.

[wheatdos]

N-negotiate?

[His voice cracks.]

How so?

[whatsinheeeere]

You make my watch. And I don't put a bullet in your head.

[[The revolver cocks.]]

[wheatdos]

[Wheatley defensively put his hands up, and tried to step back.]

Hey, hey... no need to get violent.... I... I don't think you understand... I can't just make the watch... it's much more uh, complicated than that.

[whatsinheeeere]

McArthur. I'm beginning to get sick of you and your mundane excuses.

[[Gafney grabs Wheatley by his hair, and presses his head against the counter with his free hand. He presses the barrel against the side of his head, holding it against the counter with his gun.]]

I hate waiting for things I want.

[wheatdos]

[He panics slightly as his head is pressed against the counter. His glasses, fall of his face, and he shuts his eyes considerably tight.

Don't think about how there is a gun pressed to your head, McArthur. Don't think about it.]

Okayokayokayokayokayalrightalrightalright... No excuses here... none, I'm... no excuses...!

[whatsinheeeere]

[[A snicker escapes from his lips.]]

Very good.

[[As Gafney pulls away from McArthur, he notices a little girl, standing at the doorway to the back of the shop, watching in horror, half hiding. It was Cecilia.

Gafney casually puts his revolver into his pocket.]]

I always knew that you were a smart man, McArthur. Pleasure doing business with you.

[[Gafney goes to shake his hand.]]

[wheatdos]

[Wheatley got to his feet barely, hesitantly taking the man's hand. He was already sweating, and sounded out of breath.]

...P-pleasure doing business with you...

[Wheatley has yet to see Cecilia hiding behind him.]

What kind of job are you looking for, exactly?

[whatsinheeeere]

[[Gafney looks dead at Cecilia, and then back at Wheatley.]]

Why don't you come with me, McArthur.
Or should I call you Wheatley. First name among friends?

[wheatdos]

[Wheatley turns around and sees Cecilia. Because Gafney is there, he isn't able to make much of an expression to tell her how frustrated he is that she isn't hiding, so he returns his attention back to Gafney.]

R-right... Allen..! Among friends...

[Did he just say 'come with me?']

...N-now? It's terribly late mate... dark out...

[whatsinheeeere]

[[Gafney nods.]]

I insist.

[[Cecelia retreats back to the back room. Gafney had thoroughly intimidated her, and now... she couldn't help but worry for the safe hood of Mr.McArthur. ]]

[wheatdos]

You insist... you insist, right... of- of course you insist...

[Wheatley smiles at him, and turns hesitantly towards Cecilia.]

Get my coat, will you.

[whatsinheeeere]

Yes sir!

[[And Cecilia runs off.]]

You seem nervous among friends.

[wheatdos]

Dozzit seem that way?

[Wheatley tries to suppress the worry, fiddling around with his watch.]

H-hurry up, Cecilia...

[His voice cracks slightly.]

[whatsinheeeere]

Coming Mr.McArthur!

[[Cecilia eventually reappears with Wheatley's coat, handing it to him.]]

Shall we?

[wheatdos]

[McArthur grabs his coat, and nods, sure to give Cecilia one more word before he exits from behind the counter.]

B-be sure to lock up after I leave, love...

[There is an apparent shakiness in his voice.]

[whatsinheeeere]

[[Cecilia nods.]]

Yes, Mr.McArthur.

[[When Wheatley would go to put the coat on, he would feel something different; something in the pocket. Upon inspection, he'd see that Cecilia took it upon herself to put the revolver in there too.]]

[wheatdos]

[As Wheatley puts it on... he feels the revolver, making a glance at Cecilia. That smart girl... However, with Gafney being there, he found himself unable to thank her as intensely as he wanted to.

So instead, he turns towards Gafney, and makes his way out of the door.

When he got out, he was sure to close his coat.

It was cold at nighttime.
McArthur hated nighttime, because he hated the moon. It always made him uneasy. The worst of things happen in this town at night. He would know. He was often a part of them.

There was no use in trying to hide what Gafney really wanted.]

Wh-what kind of job we're you looking for, Mr. Gafney? And are... are you sure I, uh... I can give you what you are looking for?

[whatsinheeeere]

I am.

You see McArthur... You may think of me as an intimidating man.
Think what you like. I am not your enemy, nor your friend. I'm just a man
who is a position just as tragic as yours, controlled by money.

[wheatdos]

[Controlled by money?]

...I'm afraid... I uh, do not understand.

[He found a little bit of comfort in those words, but nowhere near as much as he had hoped for. Controlled by money. Men controlled by money will do anything.]

Why...why have you called me out here?

[whatsinheeeere]

You're a professional man, McArthur.
I like that about you.

[Gafney chuckles.]

I'm sure the name Fletcher rings a bell.

[wheatdos]

Fletcher?

[Oh it did. Money and Fletcher were practically synonyms. It also left a bitter taste in his mouth as he said it, reminding him of his financial situation.]

Of course.

[He nods. Then the realization hits.]

You're not planning on doing something insane like killing someone in that sort of power. They'd know it was you. You'd never make it out, mate.

[He tries... to seem concerned. Friendly. Maybe Gafney would be less inclined to wave his gun around.]

[whatsinheeeere]

No... no, of course not.

[Gafney shakes his head.]

Think of me as a messenger. An escort.
I'm here... to escort you. To a very different man.
One who knows exactly what it is that he wants.

[wheatdos]

An escort...

[He gives a sigh of relief.]

Tell me one thing Gafney, if you can.
D-do you know...Who the man who wants my services is?

[whatsinheeeere]

No.

The man walked into a bar and paid me 30 pounds without so much as questioning my name. He must've known I knew you prior. He didn't so much as doubt himself as he handed me the money.

[[He closed his eyes, sounding amused.]]

He threw that money out without counting. A richman I tell you.