All is doom and gloom outside, so it is more than a lucky break to be inside a warm place even if only temporary. The tavern had its strange folk and sometimes harbored even stranger people from strange lands. The languages that pass through here appear to be mostly comprised of English with a dash of French coming around every now and then. Needless to say, politics were all the rage right now and left a little boy confused when fists began to fly. There have been many a tooth knocked into the floorboards, and blood soaked into the wood to where stains told tales of drunken brawls over useless things.
At least he never got caught in the middle of them.
“Boy! Bring me a drink!” A man slurred from a table, gathered with a couple ruffians that had usually started something. Nikolai, a boy of eleven years, scrunched his nose, turning it up to the dislike of dealing with the intoxicated adults here. Well, he really should not be in the tavern. A promise of free labor for warmth is all he could give in order to convince the barkeep he is not going to be some useless lay about. There is mercy given to him as the bartender knows exactly what drink is wanted, and he hands the bottle to the boy and ushers him off to give the man a drink.
“God damn French, the lot of ‘em.” The man had slurred, alcohol staining the front of his uniform and riding hard on his breath. The bottle is snatched and the boy hooked around the shoulders and brought uncomfortably close. “Listen ‘ere boy.” A finger pokes his small chest hard leaving him to bite his lip. “Ya ever see a Frenchy, you drive a knife into ‘em nice and slow. Clear? I ain’t—“ He pauses to hiccup. “Gonna have our own kids follow those bloody cockers!” Nikolai is then released; he dare not speak a word and release his foreign accent. He just looks down and shuffles off to the side where he feels best suited in these kinds of situations. A little wallflower no one notices.
The gentle patter reminds him to check on the most recent leak in the roof. Daydreaming will have to come later, the boy making haste to grab one of the beaten tin milk buckets and quickly positioning it beneath with steady ease. There! That should do it for now. The boy is so occupied with the water dripping from the beams that he forgets his other duties for the time being.
