Think Fast!


argosy_icon.jpg jacob_icon.jpg

Summary: Argosy runs an errand to Jacob's shop, and almost loses his head.

Date: February 18, 2009

Log Title

Rating: PG

Peeble's Repairs

Every inch of the front room is stacked to the brim with some sort of antique or another. The whole front window itself is stacked over with magazines, newspapers, books, and the occasional bird cage. Telephones line one wall, with bookshelves on the other containing old jewelry boxes, mannequin heads with wigs, globes, even the occasional glass eye. Everything has a layer of dust on it, except for this or that item that seems to have been moved by some patron or another. There are two paths through the junk to reach the service counter, and a bell to ring if you need assistance and no one is present.

Early evening, as most stores are closing, this store remains open a bit later for some reason or another. Already getting dark outside, the inside of the store is even darker due to the musky environment and stacks of magazines and the like covering the store window. For now it appears empty inside, maybe there's someone in the back room.

The bell on the door rings as Jason checks the door and finds it open, a box under his arm. "Hello?" he says, standing in the door, not sure if it's supposed to be unlocked or if whoever owns the place just forgot to lock up when he left.

There's a hammering noise further into the back of the store, and other than that Jason's calls are all but ignored by the dampening silence caused by the second hand objects around. Heads with no bodies and wigs upon them, boxes of dusty baseball cards and trophies from bowling championships. The hammering stops every now and then, picking up moments later all over again.

Argosy steps in, closing the door behind him. "Hello?" he calls again, as he walks further into the store, looking for a counter or some such. "Anybody here?" He moves carefully through the various accumulated stuff, doing his best not to touch anything.

As Jason comes nearer to the counter and calls for 'anyone here', the hammering comes to an abrupt stop. Whoever is causing the noise seems to pause and wait for the noise to repeat itself before moving again. After a few moment's silence, someone in the backroom seems to drop a massively heavy object. Deep, heavy bootsteps come closer to the door that leads into the front room.

"I have a repair to drop off?" Jason says, placing the box on the counter and watching the door to the back. "Is everything all right back there?"

Jacob enters the front room, his wifebeater very dirty and his skin coated with sweat. His bright eyes appear innocent, but the way he furrows his brow and the suspicious look on his features seem to indicate that he's older than he appears. He looks over Jason once before heading towards him from the other side of the counter. "What is it?" he asks, indicating to the box as he wipes his forehead clear of some sweat with an equally sweaty forearm.

"It's a clock," Jason says. He pulls a paper from his pocket, and hands it over to the man behind the counter. "It's not my clock, but this is what Mrs. Meyers wrote down. She asked me to drop it off, and that you'd fixed it before."

Jacob looks down at the mention of a watch, his eyes sparkling with a bit of excitement until Jason reveals the end of his thought. Jacob looks up sharply from the box to Jason with poison in his eyes, and hisses in low tones, "That's impossible nothing I fix breaks." He looks down again and opens the box, then snatches the paper out of his hand. He regards Jason suspiciously before opening the letter and reading it quickly. "Oh… it's a second clock of the same kind…" He folds up the paper and places it into his pocket before looking back down to the watch. "Leave it to Mrs. Meyers to manage to break two priceless antiques," he utters with a tone of distaste.

"Don't look at me," Jason says with a shrug. "She just offered me five bucks to run it over here for her, I'd never seen the clock before."

"And you'll never see it's equal again," replies Jacob. The extend of his English Accent for the first time becoming evident as he recovers an emotion neutrality to his tones, "This 'ere's a gold plated quarts based 32 Hamilton from 1929." He takes a deep breath, "This is the second one I've ever seen in me life," he begins again, apparently losing track of the presence of the teenager as he goes on, "An' donnit figger the both o'them're bein' tossed abou' by some huma-" he stops. He looks at Jason, and he picks up the box with the watch in it. "It'll be ready by tomorrow, if y'don' pick it up in two weeks, it's mine." Jacob starts scribbling down something of a receipt, and holds it out for Jason to take.

"Sure thing," Jason says, looking at the note to note the amount to tell Mrs. Meyers before pocketing it. "I'll be back then," he adds, and is turning to go when he bumps one of the stacks of stuff. "Gah! Sorry!" he exclaims, as his hands dart out, catching the trophy about to fall from the top with inhuman speed. He puts it back on top. "There - sorry about that," he apologizes, before heading for the door.

"Oh and be sure you're the one who picks it up," calls Jacob as he begins to leave, "I can't give it to just anyone, eh?" But this was a lie, if anyone walked into that door and claimed to know Mrs. Meyers, he'd be quick to hand it over just the same. But that trophy incident was too much of a good thing to let it go unnoticed. Well, it seems for Jacob that the fun it starting to pick up…

"Sure thing," Jason says with a nod. "I'll be back tomorrow after school," he says, as he makes for the door. "See you then!"

The next day… school's out, as evidenced to Jacob by the gaggling geese who pass by his doorway to get home. The corner of his eye twitches, and he escapes to the backroom, where he takes up his hammer and begins pounding out the kinks in a custom gear he's been creating for a grandfather clock.

The bell on the door rings as Jason comes through. "Anybody here?" he asks, as he extracts the receipt and envelope of cash from his backpack.

This time Jacob was expecting it, and the hammering stops. Jacob emerges from the back room with an expectant look on his face, which melts into a grin as he sees it's the young man from yesterday. "Come on in," Jacob calls out towards the front the long and thin store. "Been expectin' ya."

"Slow day, I take it?" Jason asks with a chuckle as he makes his way to the counter, where he tosses the envelope with the cash down. "There you go!"

Jacob seems to watch Jason approach as he replies, "Oh when you work on fifth avenue they're all slow days, then." He watches the envelope land on the counter, and waits for a moment, as if deciding to do something or not. For now, he just turns around and retrieves the box. "Now you be careful with this," he says as he turns around and places the box down on the counter. "It's priceless…" He takes up the envelope and puts it into the lock box before coming back to the counter.

"Will do," Jason agrees. "Although I make no promises about Mrs. Meyers and her cats," he adds, as he picks up the box and starts for the door.

"Oi, kid, look out!" With a brief tug of Jacob's wrist, a string tugs a pile of various old silverware and butchers knife begin toppling off of a stack near Jason, and the whole of them begin to fall towards him and Box in tandem.

"The /HELL/?!" Jason exclaims, as he leaps to safety, tossing the box upward before throwing himself forward into a roll out of the way of the falling cutlery, coming to his feet and turning to carefully catch the box.

If Jacob was concerned for his safety, or the safety of the watch, his body doesn't show it. He stands just where he did before, his arms folded over his dirties chest. "That was close," he says flatly, as if not considering it close at all. "Looks like you've got to be careful, after all." And he doesn't seem to mean about the clock.

"No shit!" Jason says, holding the box as he backs for the door. "This place is a deathtrap! What the hell were you thinking, putting stuff like that up there, anyway?"

"My apologies kid, my apologies," replies Jacob light heartedly, seemingly not at all upset at the accusation that he's off his rocker with his stacking ideas. "If you ever need to make another quick fiver, you come by me an' I'll give you an erran', eh?" He calls this out at the last second.

"Right…" Jason says, as he opens the door. The look on his face suggests that it'll take a lot more than five bucks to get him to come back in there again, though.

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