Coffee and Con-men

Nero enjoys some coffee and offers to trade favors....

Coffee and Con-men

Nero leaned back in the his chair, running a hand down his face. How much sleep did he get last night? There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to keep his eyes open. His neighbors were known for being loud at night, but the night before had been the worst. Nero sipped from the ceramic mug provided by the coffee house, feeling the comfort and warmth coffee brought.

Under normal circumstances, Nero wouldn’t have bothered swinging inside such a place. It was too close to the docks for his liking, and from time to time the scent of gutted aquatic monsters wafted in from the door. As a new customer entered, the smell rolled in. Nero gagged a little. Whose idea was it to have a coffee shop here? Although there was nothing wrong with the coffee, that awful smell made it hard to focus. And focus was much needed.

Nero slicked back his dark hair out of habit, regretting it the moment he felt grime. When was the last time he took a shower? He cringed at the thought, praying his target would hurry up and order his morning coffee. In front of Nero, resting beside his coffee was a folder. It was rather thick, with all the information he needed on the job he had undertaken three days ago.

The contract offered enough to pay his rent, five times over. The money was good, but the job itself was tedious. The target in question was a denizen by many names and many titles. The target in question seemed to change names more often than they changed their underwear. Assuming they didn’t just go commando. Nero wasn’t really sure the custom of wolf-folk, and it seemed too personal of a question to ask. He could always look up such a thing up on the magic net, but….

That awful smell of gutted monster met Nero’s nose once again, as if divining his paycheck through the door. Lo and behold, was a wolf-folk wearing a tan trench coat. His pointed wolf ears stuck out of the sides of a fedora clearly built for a human. With his dog-eared, wolf-folk ears pinned beneath the brim of his hat, he stepped up to the counter to order.

Nero cleared his throat, with the goblin working the front desk of the coffee shop catching his eye. Nero gave a single nod, with the goblin looking surprised. Her eyes snapped to the wolf-folk at the counter, then to the counter itself. Nero sighed. She was a nice enough denizen, but this goblin woman didn’t know how to act casual. Having slipped her a wad of gold notes, she was more than game to go along with with his plan.

His target wasn’t any the wiser, soon with his coffee in hand. The file had been correct when it came to his habits. Poor denizen needed coffee to function. Perhaps not as dire as a water elemental needing water, but almost just as bad. Nero waited, soon with his mark making his way to the door. But as he did, the wolf-folk leaned back his paper cup, letting all the coffee rush to the back of his throat. At this, Nero smiled.

“You really need to rework your product,” Nero mentioned, loud enough to perk the folded ears of the wolf-folk. The denizen froze, turning to Nero with wide eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” he spoke with elegance. Nero had to wonder how often he spoke in front of a mirror.

“Your dick cream stuff,” Nero mentioned, reaching into his over-sized wool jacket. He pulled out a small canister. It had a picture of the wolf-folk in question on it with a big smile that could sell you anything. “How about you have a seat Nash. Or are you still going by Bartholomew?”

Nash the wolf-folk stuttered something that Nero couldn’t understand. One of the other patrons, being human, wiggled in their seat to make a little distance from Nash, standing just a little too close to his table by the door. The atmosphere grew uneasy, soon with every patron of the coffee house looking at Nero and Nash. With his hand, Nero motioned to the table he was sitting at.

In good faith, Nash took a seat before Nero, with the rest of the denizens inside the coffee shop turning away, pretending not to rubber-neck to see what would happen next. Nero set the tiny canister of cream on the table beside his coffee, thumbing through the folder before him. Nash, unsure as to who this stranger was, continued to play whatever game had been presented to him.

“I see you’re a former customer,” Nash spoke, giving that famous smile of his mentioned in his file. Nero chuckled as he looked up, giving a friendly smile of his own.

“Oh, not really,” Nero confessed, rather half-interested in their conversation. “I just needed to get your attention. You know you’ve got a warrant out for your arrest? Dead or alive, even.”

Nash swallowed hard, feeling his own tail curl around his leg, buried beneath his large coat.

“I see,” Nash cleared his throat, removing his fedora. He let it rest on the table, proceeding to lace his fingers together and rest his hands on the edge of their table. “Are you wanting money?”

“Oh, that’ll come on its own,” Nero dismissed with a tiny, tired nod. “Since you’re good at taking to people and selling scams, I had a question. You see-”

“I will have you know,” Nash interrupted, “that I am a legitimate businessman. I will not sit here and let you harass me. Good day, sir!”

“No, you’re not,” Nero grinned.

Just as the wolf-folk stood from his seat, his body locked in place. His limbs rejected his command, finding himself sitting right back in his chair.

“What…. Why can’t I-”

“Your coffee was laced with a potion,” Nero mentioned as he continued searching through the folder file. “A family brew, might I add. Although your body might be under my control, your will isn’t. A witch taught it to my mother then she was just a child. Its a long story, you see. I just figure, if you help me out with something, I might be able to talk to some people to go easy on your sentence.”

The coffee house, still smelling of awful fish monster rot, was silent as a grave, all eyes now shamelessly watching Nero continue to thumb through his folder.

“Ah, here it is! Could you read this?” Nero handed over a poem he had stuffed between the many documents on Nash. “There’s this certain denizen I kinda have a crush on, and I could really use a second look over a poem I wrote for her.”

Flabbergasted and body locked in the chair, Nash the wolf-folk stared on in horror.

“How did you….” Nash struggled, his body acting on its own. Nash found himself holding the poem Nero had written, staring at it in a confused daze. “But I did nothing wrong!”

“Selling miracle cures that burn your dick hair off isn’t exactly ethical,” Nero mentioned, standing from his seat. He grabbed his folder, taking one last giant gulp of his coffee. He let out a yawn. “Besides, that isn’t the only scam that got people hurt. We’ll walk and talk, how about that?”

“But…. But!” Nash protested, finding his legs walking on their own. Nero lead the way as Nash was forced by magic to follow, holding the poem with a death grip that was not his own.

Before leaving, Nero stepped over to the counter, slipping a little more gold to the nice goblin lady who had helped him. A 20 gold bill in her hand, she smiled at the human who had been so generous.

“You’ve been great,” Nero told her, giving a little wave of his hand. “Thanks for the help.”

As they left, Nash finally accepted his fate, feet moving, head sagging.

“You’ll…. Help me if I help you?” Nash questioned, his hat once again sitting over his large ears.

“Of course,” Nero nodded, walking his way through the cobblestone streets of Bayside, heading to the Guard Office to collect his bounty.

There are rumors among the denizens of Bayside that Nash could be heard giving Nero pointers on both poetry and speaking with confidence, all the way to their destination.

Author's Note

This story is loosely weaved with the others in this "book" project. If you're curious to know more about Nero, Bayside, and the strange world it takes place in, check out the other stories. Each sequential chapter weaves together a larger tale, though each story can be read on their own independently. Read "An Introduction" within this book for more details.

Reviews

[living lavender]

>"there wasn’t enough coffee in the world to keep his eyes open"
>"the scent of gutted aquatic monsters wafted in from the door"
>"holding the poem with a death grip that was not his own"

{a few of my favorite lines.}

[Kane Hagwood]

Aww, thank you! Those lines were some of my favorites too, though I wish I would have implemented some of them better. Thanks for reviewing and reading my story!