finding a different path

who: charlie and mac
where: the round
when: earlier in the year

Sleet pounded against the windows of the Round and Mac gave it a baleful glare - early afternoon was never a busy time of day for the bar but if the weather stayed the way it was it was going to keep all but the most hardened drinkers at home. Glancing round the room, he briefly stopped on the one customer currently sat nursing a beer at the end of the bar and shook his head, turning his attention to a stack of washed glasses from the night before that needed polishing and putting back on the shelves.

Charlie hadn't been out long. He'd made his decisions on what he was going to do with his life, (sort of) and he was going to have to live with them, make them work. And that meant getting a legitimate job. That? Was turning out to be much harder than he'd imagined. No one really wanted to hire someone who'd been to prison. An ex-con as it were. Which, he guessed he didn't blame them, really, it just meant he understood the same type of cycle that he had when he was younger. The city tended to ensure that the only way you could get what you needed was to take it, but taking it got you into trouble, which yet again ensured you couldn't get what you needed. It was stupid. It meant life was going to be levels of miserable no matter what. But he couldn't do anything about that.

He'd gone in to look for work pretty much everywhere he possibly could, and he was at the end of his list. The One More Round, a place he'd drank more than once. The biggest dive in the city. If he couldn't get a job there, he didn't know what the fuck he was going to do. He'd already gone through plans a-t, he had run out of new ones at this point. This was it.

He was already soaked to the bone and feeling frozen to it as well as he finally got inside the place, shaking his head as water dripped down off his hair into his eyes. It wasn't a pretty night to be out, but he needed to get rent together, and the money Dodge had given him sure hadn't lasted all that long. He'd managed to get the apartment, pay a few months ahead and get enough food for himself, a few other necessities, but it hadn't been enough to truly set him up. Trudging up towards the bar, he glanced around to see if he could spot the owner--which turned out to be pretty easy, considering the place wasn't as packed as usual. "Hey...you got a minute?" he asked, noticing that he was shivering.

Mac’s eye had been on the kid since he’d stepped through the door but he didn’t stop in his ministrations until he was spoken to. “Sure, I got a bunch of ‘em,” he replied, hands stilling though he didn’t put down the glass and cloth in his hands. “What can I do for you?”

Charlie paused as he considered for a moment, then he looked down a second, reaching up to drag his fingers through his hair, getting it out of his eyes. "I was wondering if there's any work available here." he said. "I'd take anything." he added, wincing at his own desperation. But it was true. If the guy wanted him to haul around a puke bucket for the hardcore alcoholics he'd do that, just so long as there was pay in it somewhere.

A little surprised by the request, even though anyone watching him would have been pressed to notice it, Mac gave the young man a measured look. “What brings you asking at my door?” he queried, putting down what he was holding to pull a towel from a hook underneath the bar. “Young guy like you, healthy looking should be able to find work somewhere better than this.” He had a suspicion why but he wanted the kid to tell him, try and get a read on the sort of man he was dealing with.

Looking away again for a minute, Charlie's jaw set, and he didn't quite know how to put it. In the end, he looked back at Mac, looked him in the eye, and gave a straight answer. "People don't hire a guy who's been in the pen for a while." he said. "Don't mean I don't need money, though. And I'll work hard. Tryin to get myself on a different path."

“I ain’t most people,” Mac replied, the barest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he handed the towel across the bar so Charlie could dry himself off a little. “You got a name to go with that puddle you’re leaving on my floor?”

"Sorry, sir." he said, noticing that hey, yeah, that was kind of an impressive puddle. But then he'd been out in the goddamn rain all day, that would do it. He took the towel and ran it over his head a moment, before looking back at Mac. "Charlie." he answered. "Charlie Danvers." He held the towel back out to him, and his hand to shake, if Mac was of a mind. And he was feeling less of the 'get the fuck out of my establishment' vibe, which could be a good sign.

“The floor can handle it,” the older man replied, that twitch of a smile asserting itself again as he took back the towel and shook the offered hand. “Good to meet you Charlie, I’m Mac.” Hooking the towel back up because, dive as the Round might be, he liked the bar area to be kept tidy, he poured a measure of scotch and held it out to Charlie figuring that with the weather outside he could probably do with warming up a bit.

"Back atcha." Charlie said, and he took the scotch. He took that gratefully, sitting down finally on one of the stools. It slanted slightly to the side, but he'd drank there before. They all kind of did. "And thanks." he said. "...you haven't tossed me yet. Should I take that to mean you're open to the idea?" he asked.

Picking back up his abandoned glass and cloth, Mac resumed polishing it though his focus stayed on Charlie. “I’m not closed to it,” he replied, deftly buffing the cloth around the pint glass in a well practiced motion. Charlie’s honesty sat well with Mac, gave him a good feeling about the kid, but it would take a little more talking to convince him to give out a job like that. “You worked in a bar before?”

Shaking his head in the negative, Charlie took a drink from the scotch he'd been given. "No. But I'm a fast learner." he said, which he was. He had always been a guy who adapted pretty fast to his surroundings, whatever they happened to be. So he equated that with being able to learn fast enough. He'd not had to apply that to a legit job yet, but he didn't know why it wouldn't work out.

Mac grunted in acknowledgement, shelving the clean glass and picking up a new one. “You’d have to here,” he pointed out. Charlie’s face had seemed familiar enough to have been a customer at the Round a few times if not a regular so he’d know what kind of place the bar was. “You alright with grunt work, heavy lifting and the like?”

Nodding, Charlie had figured he'd be doing something like that, no matter where he wound up. "Yeah, no problem." he answered, throwing out the verbal confirmation. "Whatever you need, I'll do it." Not for the first time that day, he wondered how the fuck Dodge went from a fucking street punk to high society. And he took everyone with him. How did that even work? Half the guys in the gang were uneducated at best. But they were high rollers now. The world was a fucked up place.

Whether it was the honesty or the keen-ness to work, Mac found himself warming to Charlie. The fact the young man had done time didn’t mean squat as far he was concerned; he was hardly squeaky clean himself, he’d just had the fortune never to get caught. “I’ll give you a trial period,” he said, putting down the glass to lean on the bar. “Two weeks, see how you fare. Start you on barrels, cleaning and the like, give you a turn at the bar when it’s not too busy. End of that and we’re both happy, job’s yours. What do you say?” Charlie had put himself out on a limb coming to the Round looking for work and had made a good enough impression for Mac to be willing to do the same.

For the first time that entire week, Charlie smiled. "Really?" he asked. "Thanks. I mean, yeah, that sounds good, I say yes." he said, sort of half tripping over his words. It wasn't like he was always the best in social situations, especially when dealing with normal people. Criminals he could talk to, but normal folk? That tripped him up. But he was trying. "When do you want me to start?" he asked.

Charlie’s reaction was enough to earn a full smile from Mac and he clapped a warm hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Good,” he replied, still smiling as he moved back to lean against the wall behind him. “You can start tonight if you like, soon as one of my other bar tenders gets here I can show you the ropes. Or you can come back tomorrow, it’s up to you.”

"Tonight." Charlie said, thinking the sooner the better, end of story. "I'm good to start tonight." He didn't have anything else going on, after all. So yeah. He was all for jumping straight in. Plus, it might give him some points if he was that accommodating. Or, that was his theory anyways.

It was a good theory and Mac nodded with approval. “Great,” he said, picking up another glass as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. “It’ll be a couple of hours before Becky gets here but you’re welcome to stick around til then. Can’t promise I won’t find something for you to do in the mean time though.” His tone was light, matched by a twinkle in his eye that stuck around even after his smile had faded.

Smiling again, Charlie nodded. "Sure thing, boss." he said, trying it out. And it was alright. Felt good to have something, even if he'd never been all that good at following orders. Mac didn't seem the type to bark them out, either. so that should help. Plus, a girl coming in to work...that would brighten his day.

Mac smirked a little at that; all the staff at the Round tended to call him at Mac unless they were joking around, so it felt a little strange to be called boss and the person actually mean it. Kind of good but strange. “Don’t throw that word around too much Charlie, I work for a living,” he joked. “Plus you might give me ideas.” He couldn’t deny he appreciated the respect though and Charlie went up another notch in his regard.

Laughing a little, Charlie shrugged. "I'm guessing I just call you Mac then." he said, not really a question. But he could deal with that too. He finished off the scotch he'd been poured, and slid the glass to Mac. "How much do I owe you?" he asked.

“It’s on the house,” Mac replied, taking the glass over to the small hatch that opened on to the kitchen with its massive sink. He hadn’t intended to charge him for the drink regardless and now he’d decided to take Charlie on, well needless to say there were some perks in working at the Round so long as a person didn’t take liberties.

"Thanks." Charlie said, glad he didn't have to fork over any coin for the scotch. He didn't have much of it on him. Then he looked around the place again, before turning his gaze on Mac. "Well, Mac, put me to work." he suggested. "Give me something to do." he'd warm up faster if he was moving, at least. And he could settle in. He didn't do overly well with too much time on his hands.

That got a chuckle from Mac and he shook his head a little in amusement. “I see you aren’t gonna be any sort of slouch are you Charlie?” he said, tugging a bunch of keys from a loop on his belt and flipping through them. “Cellar needs organising if you fancied doing something a little more active than polishing glasses.”

"Sure thing." Charlie said, standing up straight away. "Sounds good, I can do that." He could move shit around in some dank cellar. Didn't matter to him, so long as it kept him occupied. Charlie knew himself well enough to know when he had a little too much time to sit around and let his mind wander that it didn't wander anywhere nice. So, he kept himself busy.

Finding the right key, Mac stepped over to the end of the bar and unlocked the cellar hatch, hauling it open with a small grunt. “Get yourself round here then,” he said thumbing towards the gap at the bar’s other end as he took a couple of steps down the ladder to flip on the switch. A lone bulb flickered to life and sent a yellowish tinge over the small stone room.

Charlie moved around the bar then followed, having expected something different, but he couldn't have said what. Either way, he was still happy to do it, even if he'd be working literally beneath his boss' feet.

“Empties go over there,” Mac explained, pointing across the room to where another steel hatch opened up to street level, doing what it could to hold back the onslaught of weather that rattled over it’s surface. “The full ones as close to the foot of this ladder as possible so long as no-ones gonna trip over them and spirits are in boxes over there, they could doing with being counted up if you’re alright with numbers.” It wasn’t the nicest part of the bar to work in and given the general state of the Round that was saying something but it needed to be done and if Charlie was keen to be put to work, Mac was happy to oblige him.

"Yeah, sure." Charlie answered, nodding. He marked the places in his own mind, getting a look at the rest of the room. "No problem." he added, starting in on one of the first boxes he saw, and already starting to work. He was going to give this a shot, no matter how tedious the work was. He had to make this legit life work, and this was what normal people did, right?

Watching him work for a few moments, Mac smiled to himself and headed back up the ladder. “Let me know if you get stuck,” he called down, dusting off his hands when he reached the top. He wasn’t worried about Charlie though, the lad clearly had a good head on his shoulders and Mac couldn’t help but feel pleased by the turn of events the day had taken, bad weather and all.