"ow~"
The conversation in the shop continued. Chocolate stretched out a paw, nudging Jenkins in the hopes of getting its back scratched. With a sigh of resignation, Jenkins put down the pen he'd been using for his transcription.
It was another quiet day. With no custors in the morning, Jenkins had stepped out around ten o'clock to deliver a package for Papa Oliver.
In the afternoon, a street kid delivered a letter to Papa Oliver. The old man read it with his head bowed for a mont before looking up at Jenkins, who was watching with open curiosity.
"A suspicious shipnt is being smuggled into Nolan by sea," he said. "It's due to arrive around midnight."
"Do you want to co with you?"
Jenkins asked, his voice full of anticipation.
"No!"
Papa Oliver shook his head imdiately. The last ti Jenkins had accompanied him to inspect a smuggled shipnt, the affair had ended in a massive fire that burned down half an alley.
"However, a custor is coming by the shop tonight to pick sothing up. I need you to mind the store and wait until they've left. I seem to recall you have an outing with your friends tomorrow..."
"No, that's no problem at all. I often stay up late, so losing a little sleep won't be an issue."
Jenkins replied at once. His nightlife was usually dull anyway. Although he had planned to investigate the original owner of Mr. Hunt's Fruit Platter that evening, minding the shop took precedence.
"This will be my first ti minding the shop at night. Is there anything I should watch out for?"
Jenkins inquired further. Papa Oliver thought for a mont before replying:
"If custors co in to buy or sell, just handle it as you normally would. If you get anyone trying to peddle goods from questionable sources, just tell them you're the apprentice and that I'm not in. They'll understand."
"Alright, that's simple enough."
Jenkins could certainly handle sothing so straightforward.
"One more thing. When you leave tonight, don't wander about. Head straight ho. Frankly, I'm less worried about you running into danger in the shop than I am about you finding it on the way ho."
Papa Oliver's worry was unfounded, as Jenkins had plenty of experience navigating the streets after dark. Still, considering his peculiar luck, he decided not to stay at the shop for dinner after closing. He headed ho under the pretext of telling the maid not to prepare his supper. His true reason for returning to St. George Avenue, however, was to retrieve the Godhead tal Block and keep it on his person.
"Now I should be perfectly safe!"
He thought to himself as he scooped up the cat napping on the sofa. Stepping out the front door, he turned and locked it securely behind him.
After pocketing his key, he headed for the front gate. Just then, a carriage pulled to a stop outside. A maid opened the door, and Briny Mikhail stepped out. She looked up to see Jenkins, clearly on his way out, and offered a soft laugh and a wave before retreating back into the carriage.
This ti, Briny had co to see Jenkins alone—"alone" aning that the red-haired Hathaway knew nothing of her visit. Briny wasn't as forward as her friend; she didn't imdiately lean in for a passionate kiss. However, when Jenkins sat beside her, she didn't resist as he took her hand in his.
The mory of that night last month brought a blush to both their cheeks. It had been the second ti Jenkins was forced into a wardrobe, and the night Briny had, for all intents and purposes, confessed her feelings for him.
Although nothing physical had actually happened between them, Jenkins felt they had been only a single step away...
"Stop scratching ."
Chocolate dug its claws into the back of his hand. Jenkins winced, looking down to gently scold the cat.
"About the outing tomorrow, we're all eting outside the city," she said. "Hathaway and I will co and pick you up."
"Alright, I'll be ready for you... Oh..."
Seeing the blonde girl blush, Jenkins understood what she wanted. He hesitated for only a second before pulling her into an embrace. He had intended to be the one to initiate the kiss, but just as he reached for her, Briny leaned in and captured his lips with her own.
A long mont passed before they finally pulled apart. Jenkins's face was likely even redder than hers.
"You're a terrible kisser..."
Briny murmured, and Jenkins had to fight the urge to retort with sothing like, "Well, you're certainly more practiced than I am."
"So, should I practice with you more often?"
The blonde girl's voice was a re whisper, and in that mont, Jenkins's heart felt like it would leap straight out of his throat.
"Yes!"
The word had barely left his lips when a question surfaced in his mind:
"Why did I just say that?"
For a second, Jenkins wondered if he'd been controlled, but he knew with perfect clarity that the choice had been his own.
Briny's only purpose today had been to inform Jenkins about the outing, so she left after dropping him off at the antique shop. On the way, the two of them "practiced" for quite a while. As they parted, the blonde girl specifically instructed Jenkins not to ntion any of this to her red-haired friend.
"She's probably not ready yet, and I'm afraid Hathaway wouldn't be able to accept it. But I promise you, Jenkins, I'll have an open and honest talk with her before the sumr is over. As long as you're willing... to marry her, I will beco your mistress."
For a few fleeting seconds, Jenkins felt like an irredeemable scoundrel. Then he decided this was all just so "silly ga" the two young won were determined to play.
He carefully reflected on everything that had happened since he'd t them and realized he had almost never been the one to take the initiative.
"That won't do," he resolved. "I need to be more proactive. Perhaps I can ask them out to dinner or a play soti."
He stood at the entrance to the antique shop, lost in thought for a long while as he watched the carriage recede down Fifth Queen's Avenue. At last, he turned and went inside.
Papa Oliver was due to leave in half an hour and was busy packing, so he failed to notice Jenkins's faintly reddened lips—a trace of lipstick—or the sulking cat in his arms.
"Papa Oliver," he began, "let's say... yes, let's just suppose several young won were fond of you at the sa ti. What would you do?"
He asked after leaning on the counter, mulling it over for a long ti.
The odd question startled Papa Oliver. He turned to look at Jenkins, then nodded with dawning comprehension.
"Jenkins, matters of the heart are actually simpler than you imagine..."
"No, they're more complicated."
It was rare for Jenkins to interrupt him so directly, but Papa Oliver didn't seem to mind.
"Alright, complicated then. But you have to understand, your station in life ans you have more options. I hate to admit that there are differences between people, but that's just the way it is in our ti. You're a noble, a Saint of the Church. You can have most anything you desire."
Papa Oliver spoke as he adjusted his coat. He deftly straightened his cuffs, then ran a steaming iron, still hissing from the hot water inside, quickly over the fabric.
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