@ofcbenjis
By far the worst part about running a house was having to deal with its finances. Peck could take the sex and the noise, and the late nights and early mornings. They could take the filth and the threat. What they could not abide was shopping.
They were low on food. They had been since that bloody raid, but normality was now returning to them, and coin with it. The extra funds from the Auction gave the last push needed for Peck to finally loosen their fist round their purse. The first order of business was to replenish their meagre stores; food, candles, booze, and raw materials for Peck’s pharmacy. Whilst they had charges at their disposal, Peck wouldn’t trust most of them with money, and the rest of them with food. It fell to them to go to the markets and to haggle, and purchase, and then lug about their wares.
Covent Garden had a wonderful mix, and made such dull jobs bearable. From the aroma of coffee beans, to sashes of silks, to rotting fish and fly-ridden mushrooms. Peck sauntered about the market with clear boredom, pausing only occasionally for a purchase. They did not often venture into the territory of other bawds and pimps; it could be seen as threatening.
They had just purchased a full bushel of apples, and were in the process of shoving the things into their already overfull bag and basket when one dropped, bruised itself against the cobbles, and rolled. It stopped right between the feet of another.
“Excuse me,” they sighed, tapping them on the shoulder with gloved fingers.
