[ ⚙️ ] FUR-COVERED COGS [ IC ]

[upscalerat]

Nell was perhaps about halfway back to her home when she encountered a rooster. He seemed surprised to see her- perhaps because of the lack of laborers returning home from the upper class at this hour- but perhaps because they had nearly run into each other. Nell, too, was focused more on what her afternoon would hold and the dream of a second job than where she was going. Not to mention that she was used to the street being empty at this hour.

"Sorry, sir," she responded, before even processing the rest of what he had said. The man was a splash of color in the otherwise gray world, between his plumage and the flower that he held. A flower stall might be a nice place to work for a few months? Though the resources that it took to grow such flowers in the cold probably did not leave much in the budget for employees.

She moved her eyes up from the flower, pausing on his badge, and met his eyes with a smile. "Aye, sir, I'm on my way home. I'm a landscaper for the fine folk you serve- but no one myself for you to worry yourself about." The badge made it clear what the rooster was, and Nell liked to think that she knew better than to bring a cop to her street. Even if none of her neighbors were, to her knowledge, breaking the law, no one liked a cop sniffing around- you never knew if you'd get a bad one who needed another collar for their record.

That his offer was bordering on an instruction didn't faze Nell. One perk of being able to eavesdrop on upper classers as they passed through their gardens was being able to learn the way that they graciously turned down unwanted proposals. If he insisted, though, she was uncertain how she would tell him no so politely again, and might have been forced to accept. Nothing good came from making cops upset, after all.

[Sabes]

Rue shifted his jaw at Nell, observing her behavior in a polite and watchful manner. He stood his ground, making it seem like he was going to escort her anyway, especially the way he looked at her prosthetic, which may include expensive parts that thugs could try to sell. "Landscaper, huh?" he delicately rubbed his talon over his wattle, giving her a casual and comforting glance. "My apartment's balcony has been in need of one," he mentioned to the human, meaning only honesty behind it in a shocking way. "You wouldn't be looking for another customer, would you?" He looked very serious and talked like a friend.
It was part of his job to be exceptionally charismatic, so why not put it to use when trying to make new connections for his network in this city? His reputation would improve with each good impression...and with the quality of acquaintanceship.

[Enigma]

"By all that's holy," the thug breathed, then bolted from the mouth of the alley.

"Well," John grumbled to himself with a snort, "War has taught him one thing - when to show a good pair of heels."

It was also possible that he'd gone for help, he'd need to get out of there quickly. Grabbing the edge of a crate, he pulled himself upright, then pressed through the fabric of his pants leg to hit certain recessed buttons. The leg stopped twiching as bad and locked into place.

"Damn embarrassing, that," he muttered, reaching down the inside the trouser leg to tug on the strap until it felt tighter. His gun drifted back into its shoulder holster.

"Okay, let's get to High Street," John smiled tiredly, and began walking awkwardly out of the alley, making sure to observe what was around him before tottering off to the main road - and cabs.

---

Footmen at the entrance of the club had to help him down and carry him inside, where the club manager, Sergeant Major Williams and a few of his staff were waiting.

"Sir, what happened?" Williams asked in his "speaking to officers" voice - like a purring cat, almost.

"Got bumped and took a fall," John sighed. "If it's no bother, could they carry me up to my room?"

"Bother?" the club manager asked, fixing each of the footmen the evil eye, "Oh no sir, no bother at all. Is there anything else we can do...?"

"I'm all out of light machinery oil," he sighed. "I don't suppose there's any about...?"

"The typewriter uses some light oil," Solly offered. "I can have the assistant bring it up to your room."

"Capital! Well then, onwards and upwards!" John said as the footmen began taking him into the private section of the club.

Before Solly could brush past him, the sergeant major reached out with his hand.

"Is that wise? Considering?" he whispered hoarsely, fixing him with a worried look.
"It would be weird if we didn't," Solly retorted, brushing the manager's arm away and darting towards the Club Secretary's office.

[Sleepy]

The noises going on around her made it very hard to focus on one thing. Maybe it was better to put all her attention on her task at hand, but there wasn’t really much to it. Put this here, put that there, and eventually you would have whatever it was you were producing. When she had taken this job, she’d been slightly nervous that she wouldn’t be able to perform well. In the lower lands, all you needed to know was how to defend yourself and anything you wanted to keep, as chances were someone else was going to want it too. The form of survival you needed to get by in the Middle Class was something she was still getting used to.

When she brought up the idea of factory work to her friend, the late Ms. Heidi Mills, she had assured the young dog that she had nothing to worry about, “Ever since I retired from factory work, all I do now is sew and sew. Clothing is so easily torn up in the factories, and people around here can hardly afford to keep bread on their tables! So now I sew and sew and fix everything that people bring me. It saves them the expense and helps me keep bread on my table.” She was a talkative old woman, and would regularly tell stories of her everyday life during their sessions when they’d ‘sew and sew’, “Ever since I picked you up, that’s all you’ve been doing, and I dare say, you’ve gotten almost as good as me! Working at the factory will be no problem for you. You can’t do anything too technical, like keep an eye on the machinery and whatnot, but have them put you on an assembly line, and you’ll find it’s much easier than any amount of sewing we’ve done! You don’t even need to put as much care into it.”

Of course, she’d been right. Once they had put her on the assembly line and shown her what to do, she figured out pretty quickly it was a mostly mindless task. Many people were unsatisfied with it, mentioning that there were much better things they could do with their time, but she didn’t really understand their complaints. Then again, she’d spent her whole life being happy that she was just allowed to live another day. Maybe more time here would eventually reveal to her whatever it was they were upset about. In the meantime, she was just glad that the work she had been given was relatively easy. It gave her a chance to both earn her keep, and get used to being so close around others on a daily basis. It was almost perfect. “Are you in need of entertainment, gentlemen?”
Almost.

Vita turned an ear toward the small confrontation between her co-worker, Sable, and some of their human colleagues. She was always surprised by the stark contrast between how she was welcomed by Ms. Mills in comparison to how these humans seemed to treat her and others of her kind. Perhaps the people she encountered when she was with Ms. Mills were only polite out of respect for the old woman, because here, there was often no trace of such politeness.
She heard their footsteps move away from him and waited. Before long, she felt someone prodding her own her tail, causing a low growl of warning to sound in her throat.

“What’s the matter pup?” a taunting voice said behind her, “Afraid I’ll pull it off?”
A sharp tug sent her whirling around, teeth bared. She snapped at the hand of the man who dared touch her, and sent the group scattering back in surprise, her aggressor’s eyes wide with panic.
“What’s the matter meat?” she spat back, using one of their own words she’d heard tossed her way in her old life as she stood to full height, “Afraid I’ll bite it off?”

Their eyes grew even wider with fear as they stared at her, probably in wonder over the meaning of her words. Personally, Vita had never been much of a hunter. Dogs of her kind were better at scavenging, and these guys probably tasted terrible anyway. That didn’t mean she was going to put up with their harassment, though. She knew better than to actually bite them, as the smallest sign of blood would send them crying to their superiors. Speaking of which, she thought bitterly.
“Vita!”

She turned from the group to face the man who oversaw them, making sure to lower her ears and tail. Her head, however, she held high.
“I’m certain you have a good reason for holding up my assembly line?” he boomed.
The small group of men rushed back to their places, “Sorry sir,” she said, turning back to her task, “It won’t happen again.”
“Make sure it doesn’t!” and as he left, she caught more quietly, “Lousy mutt.”

She forced her fur to fall flat as her hands settled back into the brisk rhythm of her work. At least she’d be spared a few days of wandering hands and demeaning insults from her coworkers... well, they wouldn't insult her to her face.

[upscalerat]

The rooster kept eyeing her prosthetic, and Nell didn't especially care for how watched it made her feel. Her arm wasn't something that anybody minded, in her world- she wasn't the only one with a prosthetic in any of their worlds. Attention that did come from it was appreciating her brother's work, or asking why she didn't pursue any sort of variations on what her arm could be.

But he didn't say anything about it, and instead suggested that he was interested in her services. Nell couldn't help but to blink and open in surprise, staring for a moment before breaking out with a hearty grin. What serendipity! "I'd very much appreciate that, sir. It does get lonely when my days finish long before everyone else's, such as today. In fact, I'd be happy to start on it right now, if you'd like."

True, the extra job would mean less leisure time come spring and summer; but the extra money would be well worth it. Even just saving whatever she earned from the cop and changing nothing about her existing spending habits, Nell imagined that she would at least have enough to afford a new coat. Maybe she could even get some better food here and there, or anything else that came around, like holidays and birthdays- or, invariably, the cost of fixing whatever next broke.

[Sabes]

Inhaling a breath that was as sharp as his glare at the humans, Sable clenched his toothy jaw but kept his composure chained down tight. Those knuckleheads are really irritating and some days he can lose his patience with their ridiculous nonsense. Especially when they bothered his friend. There were a few canid workers in this rusty, dusty factory, and any discrimination against any of them felt like a punch in the snout. Can't people just get along? They can have their own pets. We're more dignified than streetrats.
After the ruckus died down and the supervisor went off to go patrol elsewhere, Sable hurried his work to get ahead and gain a couple minutes of free time. With a bit of multi-tasking, Sable threw together a couple scraps of loose paper and a clipboard. Scrawling a bit of chicken scratch on one sheet with a greasy nub of a contractor's pencil, he checked his corners for any humans or supervisors. He held the clipboard in a professional and superiors-like manner as he casually walked over to Vita. "Message for you," he said in a jokingly low voice, hiding his sideways grin under the shade of his mailboy cap. He slid the clipboard with the note over the assembly line's conveyor belt so she could see that a childishly humorous slur against the humans was written on it, followed by a scratchy "am I right?" He promptly returned to his station not too far away, playing catch-up from the lost time. Giving that message to Vita made him snicker like a coyote, no matter if Vita was as humored by it as he was. He looked up from his workstation, still smiling to himself to see his crush passing down an aisle ahead of him. The rim of his cap was lowered over his eyes, but the twitch in his tail was enough of an indicator that he wasn't eyeing her for his health.

[Sabes]

The long and flashy hackles on Rue's neck flared up slightly with genuine delight. "Would you?!" Transitioning from gripping the flower in excitement to leaning back and retaining his composure again, he added, "that would be just marvy. The sun might set in a matter of a couple hours, which will allow me to introduce you to my sickly flora before my dinner date. I'm very pleased that you're so ready and willing to offer your services!" He stepped aside to open the walkway to her in the direction of the upper class, where his apartment was. He stood on the side of her that closest to the street, which was the proper and polite position for a protective and caring male, as he began to lead the way. "It's a pleasure to have met you. I don't believe I've gotten your name." He slid the flower into the flower hole of his uniform, just beside his badge so his big talons could keep away and stop bruising the stem. Looking back at her, he added openly, "you seem vaguely familiar. I know we must not have met before but I might have heard of a gardener like you from one of my colleagues who often patrols the upper class neighborhoods. I think he's come to be peachy with one of your clients, perhaps?" He seemed to simply be trying to strike up pleasant conversation or offer a common ground between them, probably in an effort to start a connection or to test her waters of acquaintanceship.

[Enigma]

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!"

John's pants and coat were draped over the edge of the bed, and he was working on the straps that held the leg in place on his stump as someone slipped inside.

"Sir," the newcomer asked. "Did you ask for the oil?"
"Yes, put it on the table. I also need some help with the straps, if you can spare a moment."
"Of... of course," the newcomer replied, shutting the door behind them.

There was a soft 'clunk', then gray furred hands brushed his as they went for the buckles. Surprised, John looked up into the face of a gray rabbit.
"Oh, hello," he said. "John Dovington, at your service. And you are?"
"Nineteen, sir," the rabbit replied, keeping its eyes on the straps. She was glad the fur hid her blush. "May I?"
"Nineteen? That's an unusual name...?"
"Yes sir," Luna nodded, fingers working the leather through a buckle. "As they rescued several rabbits from the burrow, they started giving us numbers instead of proper names."

John frowned slightly but let the rabbit work, giving a sigh of relief when the leather came undone and his stump came free. Luna's nose wrinkled involuntarily.

"Sorry about the smell," John replied. "Could you put this on the table?"
"Sir?" the rabbit asked, then realized John was holding up the prosthetic leg. "Oh, of course sir!"

"I don't suppose you could wet a cloth for me?"
"Of course, sir," Luna said, heading towards the washstand with the basin and a jug of water. Picking up a small cloth, she poured a little onto the cloth to wet it, then brought it back to him.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" she asked, handing the cloth over.
"Ah, thank you! No, I'll ring if I need a steward. Thanks for bring up the oil, Nineteen."
"You're welcome, sir."

John grinned as the boy left. Handled seeing the stump well enough, didn't asked any stupid questions, either.

[Sabes]

ooc-- Rivoting! Highly entertaining post, Enigma!