The Victorian Era AU Post!

[swatpenguin]

The Age of Queen Victoria has come and gone but the ideas and their effects still bring about images of opulence and poverty, of raggedy clothes in the dirty streets to the balls and plays of the rich, of classes and breaking through from them. From the beauty, the proper manners of courting (or the secret need to break away from them) and even the horrors that swept the news of ghastly killers and the spiritualist movement, make the unique era what we now know of today.

So whatever path or world you choose, remember to tip your hand, wave your fan and have fun!

Comments

[leiche]

"You do know this is the third time this week, Mr. Fitzgerald?"

"Yessir, Officer."

It was hardly his first offense, and certainly far from the last. By now a familiar sight to passers by, he stood with his hands folded behind his back, eyes on the ground and an expression on his face that said "why yes, I did do the thing you're accusing me of, but I'm not going to admit to it because I'd rather not spend the night in jail again." And the officer was used to it, getting to know the young Irishman very well over the past couple of years, whether it was for an actual arrest or just from a confrontation regarding ... well, whatever it was he'd been accused of this time. Theft, swindling, public drunkenness, robbery, it wasn't a short list.

And so was another conversation with the same officer as last time, the same stern lecturing as before. At least he was fair, and not about to arrest him without proof of his wrongdoing (he had the proof that morning, but it'd been spent on a loaf of bread for breakfast,) but it was obvious he was getting tired of dealing with him almost every other day. Jeremy didn't mind - he wasn't being arrested, so it was just fine.

"Course not, sir. Never did such a thing," he continues, maintaining his innocence, despite the officer knowing better. Their conversation continued, Jeremy being given yet another warning that he wasn't about to listen to, and a reminder that he should really smarten up and try to be a more respectable gentleman - another thing he wasn't going to listen to. As soon as they parted ways and the officer turned a corner, Jeremy was fishing through his pockets for his deck of cards and a cigarette, heading down the street in the opposite direction to look for someone else to cheat a few coins out of. Breakfast was all well and good, but there was still dinner to think about.

[voiceinthephone]

Across the street from where Jeremy was stood Fredbear's Confectionery and Delights, a store that had no right to be that garishly decorated except for the laughing children that came and went. Phillip Gray had known no hunger or the cold kiss good night of a hard bed, but he could sympathize with the plight of those who did. Peter Goode, his employee over at the candy shoppe, thought his charity was just throwing "money to the pigs" but Phil scolded him. Just because they were well-to-do didn't mean they could sneer at the world.

Eh, at least Peter wasn't here today, off to get those strange purple candies that have the kids going mad for. And what child wouldn't want a cuddly friend to accompany them out? It's a good business model, mother and father be wrong.

Phil had been listening to the argument the man while he swept the entrance, and while he wasn't one to intrude, he figured he could help the younger man out. No need for those cards, he could have some lunch on Fredbear's house.

"Hullo? Hello!" he hailed the thief as he caught up to him, "Y-Yes you! Um, can you help me with some boxes? I'll pay you, uh, a few dollars for your trouble. My assistant's been out for a while now."

[leiche]

He's only just finished lighting his cigarette with a match when he's called over by a stranger, quickly pocketing the cards when he realizes it's a job offer and not a different request. Best to keep the trick deck hidden, after all. He stops in his tracks to turn around and address the stranger calling to him, and he recognizes the shop instantly - not one he visits too frequently himself, always giving him the chills whenever he walked past, but a popular one amongst the local children.

Besides, moving some boxes around for some spare change to go towards dinner, it was an offer difficult to refuse. After a quick puff of his cigarette, Jeremy shrugs and moves towards the shop and it's ... owner? Or just a worker, he's not sure.

"Havin' some trouble, are we?" Jeremy answered, Irish accent thick and usually a quick deterrent towards locals but he'll at least try to win the guy over for now. "I might be able to help out, but I may have to charge extra, dependin' on how many boxes. Hard labour ain't cheap."

A little banter to at least try and get more than a few dollars, but if it was refused, he wasn't going to turn away. It's worth a shot.

[voiceinthephone]

The Irish accent might've deterred Peter but not Phil. He found the accent to be much more interesting than the vain airs he was used to whenever he had to explain to his mother that he was happy and that their social standing wasn't jeopardy.

Though Gray does smirk at the negotiations the stranger was putting on the metaphorical table. "What say you 2 dollars for every 2 boxes you help me move?" he put the bills on said table and waited for the guest to respond in good form. "Hm, thirty boxes should net you $30, I think."

Pretty big amounts of cash for hard labor he thought, though he wouldn't be paying the man with store money. This was out-of-pocket to keep him out of trouble.

[leiche]

The offered payment for not even a day's hard labour surprises him quite a bit - he's never charged that much for a job that wouldn't take at least a few days and several lunch breaks. Maybe he's been undercharging all this time, but he'd hate to think he'd been living practically penniless for so long, so instead he'll just stick to the belief that a dollar per box was considering overpaying and the man received an incredulous look in response.

"Christ, man, you'd think you'd be paying me to bend over the boxes as well, at a rate like that," Jeremy remarks. He almost regrets saying so, since that's usually something a man can get arrested for saying, and he'd only just avoided that a few minutes ago. But he means it in jest anyway, and continues on regardless of the stranger's reaction to his comment.

"Got yourself a deal, then." At the very least, it'll net him a few days of food, and he could really use that. Being paid up front was also a bonus, and he eyes the bills laid out for him intently. "Shall we get started?"

[voiceinthephone]

Any other man would've taken the other's crude remarks as a punishable offense. Phil merely laughed it off in a way that revealed he hadn't suffered worry in his life. Well, until recently that children were becoming sick and dwindling in their numbers. He'd send them some get well soon cards but it was hard enough to keep track of them while in the store.

In fact, he even comes back to the sentence with a hushed but mischievous tone, "Oh please, I'd be underpaying you. You don't seem the type anyways." He went back to his proper form and led Jeremy inside. Trays of sweets and candies sat on one end while the other had myriads of toys and stuffed animals from all kinds.

"The boxes are over there, just make sure that none of the contents spill out. They're from London and it'll be quite the pain to restock them," Phil rattled on, "I'll get to your lunch soon enough."

[leiche]

At the very least, a snide underhanded comment like that usually let the other fellows know what other services he was willing to provide, should the situation come to it. Not many men would actually take him up on the offer, and he had in fact had a few punches thrown at him and even jail time threatened at him for even mentioning it in jest. Some folks are a little more easily offended than others. But it has, on occasion, pocketed him a little extra spending money. It's worth trying it every now and then, just in case. At least Phil's not immediately offended, that's a good sign.

"Oh, you've no idea, sir," Jeremy replies under his breath, just low enough for the man to hear if he's listening close enough. He follows Phil inside, taking off his hat to set it on the nearest coat rack as he takes a look around. It's not a shop he's stepped into before - candies and children's toys weren't exactly necessities for a man scraping by.

"Thirty dollars payment, and lunch?" he asks, a bit incredulously, as he shrugs off his coat. He's far from a strong, sturdy man, but boxes of toys or whatever's in them, he should be able to handle. "You're either desperate for help, or desperate for company."

[voiceinthephone]

Phil did his best to hide the pink tinge at the sudden change in tone and...was that an invitation? How scandalous and rude! And yet intriguing for someone who lived a life so heavily influenced by family politics. Mother and Father probably sought an aristocrat's daughter to marry their remaining bachelor son but he'd long resisted the agreements.

"Could be both, off hours are boring as it turns out and I tire of the, um, the sanctimonious gaggle of friends I'm set to dine with, if you pardon my frankness." One look outside and Gray sighed, "Sometimes I feel like conversing with a balloon full of hot air, empty and aggrandizing."

With the door closed, Phil then swallowed for a bit, curious now, "W-what sort of ideas should I have of you, sir?"

[leiche]

Desperate for company, Jeremy took that to mean. And it's not like he could blame the man, after an explanation like that. He hadn't had many run-ins with the elite class of the cities he's been to - at least, nothing longer than was required to walk away with a stolen wallet or pocketwatch - but he knew enough to know that description was certainly apt. Always turning their noses up at him, scoffing and rolling their eyes, kicking dirt towards him and telling him their streets don't need any more trash. The kinder folks were almost always those in the middle class, which is probably why he's so surprised this fellow's so eager to offer him a job.

"Well, first off, the idea that "sir" is far too formal a title to give to someone like me," he replies matter-of-factly, as it was something he was used to saying. Still, despite the jab at his self worth, Jeremy faces the man with a smile, coat and hat in one arm while he offers the other for a handshake.

"Jeremy Fitzgerald, sir. If the name's at all familiar, you've probably heard the coppers shoutin' it out down the streets."

[voiceinthephone]

"Phillip Gray," the shop-owner revealed his name, and gave Jeremy a firm shake back, "Ah, you're the man who allegedy conned Miss Wilson's fiancee a few pounds off his wallet with a card game." Phil's family had made headlines in the past, American who built themselves into high society through work and sound investments. If anything, Jeremy was looking at the black sheep of the clan, wishing to make his money in the joy of children rather than steel or coal.

"Well at least here, the coppers won't give you trouble so long as you don't seek it out," he welcomed the temporary employee aboard, "You're a clever enough man." He then took the hat and coat, and traded them for a candy blue apron, "Might help in case any jelly treats spill over. " He didn't dare look at the other man, not until he was able to remind his face how inappropiate it was.

"...Oh...um, place those on the third rack okay?" Phil murmured already calmed down.