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]

[[In the middle of Wheatley's stresses, eventually Cecilia would come bounding into his office, disturbing the silence with her friendly high pitched voice.]]

Mr. McArthur! Mr. McArthur!

[wheatdos]

[He raises his head to look at the child who just ran into his office. Promptly, he would continue on with his writing.]

I would appreciate it if you didn't disturb me, Cecilia.

[whatsinheeeere]

[[Cecilia stopped a short distance from his desk, jumping in place.]]

Are you busy? Can you come to the front desk?

[wheatdos]

[He raised his head. That was different. His eyes flicked to one of the clocks. It was dead at night.]

Wh-what? Why?

[whatsinheeeere]

You don't know? Are you sure?
There is a man looking for you Mr.McArthur.

[wheatdos]

[He carefully considers his response, speaking softer than usual. Something is tugging at the back of his mind. Fear? Maybe. It was a subtle fear, nothing too apparent.]

T-tell him that we don't take customers this late.
He will simply have to come back in the the morning.

[And back to his writing...]

[whatsinheeeere]

I did, Mr. McArthur.

[[Cecilia is frowning, and takes a closer step to Wheatley.]]

He simply will not move.
I even told him that you were ill, like you always told me.

[[Her frown only becomes deeper.]]

Are you alright, Mr. McArthur?

[wheatdos]

[He won't move...?

Wheatley feels something collect in the back of his throat, and he swallows painfully. He's choked up. Why is he nervous? He knew why. He knew too many bad people who were more than likely to visit him in the dead of night.

Slowly, he makes his way up to his feet.]

What did he... [ahem]... what did he look like, love?

[whatsinheeeere]

He was big! Not as big as you, but he's wide. I asked him his name! He spoke in this very big voice! He said...

[[She attempts to speak in a deeper, manlier voice.]]

My name is Allen Gafney, and tell McArthur that I must speak to him, immediately. I was sure to ask him if I could help him find a watch but he said that he really wanted to speak to you, Mr. McArthur.

[wheatdos]

G-gafney!? Bloody hell...

[His heart stops. He suddenly goes over to Cecilia, as quickly and quietly as possible, urging her deeper into his office. He eventually urges her underneath his desk.]

You stay there till I say it's alright for you to come out, do you understand???

[whatsinheeeere]

[[She obeyed, but she was incredibly confused. From under his desk, she peeked out. looking up at him?]]

What is it? Is something wrong? Is everything alright Mr.McArthur?

[[She sounded worried.]]

[wheatdos]

[He was worrying her. He manages to flash a slight smile.]

Just a precaution, love. Nothing is wrong, and I'm alright. Better than ever.

[He pulled off a hat from on top of his desk and plops it on her head.]

Stay here.

[He's considerably slow, but he makes his way slowly to the front room of his shop, heart beating. As he leaves, he is sure to grab a revolver sitting on his desk, underneath a book.

He checks it. 2 bullets. That's all he could afford.

He considered it, and found them to be too precious and expensive to waste. He sets it back down on the desk, and makes his way to the front with no defense, other then a nervous smile and his own two hands.]

[whatsinheeeere]

[[Cecilia was too curious. A few minutes after he left, she would crawl out to follow him]]

---

[[Gafney was waiting for Wheatley, leaning on his counter and tapping on it with his finger. He was an intimidating man, with a large beard, and a suit covered in brass accents. He spoke in a grizzly voice]]

McArthur.

[wheatdos]

[He laughed nervously and made his way up to the counter.]

Ah, yes... Mr. Gafney. Funny seeing you here at this time of night. Awfully late. Most sleep at a time like this, you know... ehehehe...

[He tries to keep it friendly.]

[whatsinheeeere]

Do you usually submerge your apprentices in the art of lying?

[[Gafney sounded completely unamused. Your smile isn't impressing him, Wheatley.]]

[wheatdos]

[Right. Wheatley stops smiling, and swallows again. His heart is beating.]

I have been ill. She had the best of intentions. R-really.

[He moves closer to the counter, leaning on it.]

How... uh, can I help you?

[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?