Chapter Text
“What the actual fuck ?!”
The boy standing in front of the counter gives a jolt of surprise, nearly jumping out of his skin. Eurydice’s eyes narrow; she keeps a hand on the butterfly knife at her waist, ready to unleash hell upon this stranger if necessary.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” the boy says, his accent surprisingly posh for this part of town.
She frowns, slamming her hands onto the wooden counter; the boy jumps again, to her satisfaction. “How am I s’posed to know if you’re gonna hurt me or not?” she challenges. “You won’t believe how nice the ones you’re supposed to look out for are, boy. Now get the hell outta here; it’s way past closin’, and I can’t risk losin’ my job because of you, sleazeball.”
“I just need somewhere to hide,” he pleads, glancing nervously at the door. “Please, ma’am, if you’ve got a room in the back that I could duck into for just a minute-”
“Woah, woah,” Eurydice interrupts, holding up her hands defensively. “We barely even know each other. Why should I offer you a place to-”
“If you don’t fucking open up, prince, we’ll knock the door down!” a voice from outside yells, interrupting her mid-sentence. Eurydice’s eyes widen twice their usual size. She glares at the boy with a look that could wither the burliest of men, fuming.
“Down the hall and turn right,” Eurydice growls. The boy shoots her a grateful look and dashes away, his feet connecting lightly with the floor beneath him. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Eurydice vaults over the counter, puts on her customer service smile, and opens the door.
“Sorry, sir, but we’re closed,” she says sweetly. “Come back tomorrow mornin’ at eight; we open right on the dot.”
“Don’t this place shut at ten?” the overall-wearing man asks. He holds up an old, misshapen horseshoe. “Gotta get this fixed for the mare.”
“No, openin’ hours are eight to seven, sir,” Eurydice says, a tone of finality in her voice. “We’ll still be ‘ere tomorrow.”
“Fine, fine,” the man says, putting the horseshoe back into his bag. “Now tell me, girl. You seen a boy? Brown hair, pretty-lookin’ clothes. He don’t fit in ‘round here.”
“Haven’t seen a single soul since our last customer,” Eurydice lies through her teeth. The man grunts, bids her good evening, and leaves. Slamming the door shut, Eurydice heaves out a sigh. Chances that she’s harboring a wanted fugitive are pretty high, ain’t they?
She heads towards the room in the back and raps on the wooden door with her knuckles. Without waiting for the boy to provide her with an answer, she storms inside. “Who are you?” she hisses. “That man out there- he was lookin’ for you.” She clears her throat and tries to mimic the man’s deep growl. “‘Brown hair, pretty-lookin’ clothes.’ That’s you, ain’t it?”
“Yes…?” the boy says uncertainly, shifting under the weight of Eurydice’s gaze. “I, uh, may have taken something from his stall? I didn’t know-”
“Are you stupid?” Eurydice says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask why. Just head back to wherever you live, alright? I don’t want Mr. Hades comin’ in tomorrow mornin’ and yelling at me because I’ve kept you, a wanted criminal, safe in his institution. Connections are an important thing here; you wouldn’t know that.”
“Mr. Hades?” the boy asks, his voice carrying a hint of recognition. “As in the blacksmith Mr. Hades?”
Eurydice nods.
“My father knows him!”
“What are the odds of that happening,” Eurydice mutters under her breath; she’s so, so tired. “Who’s your father?” she asks, mimicking the boy’s accent.
“Mr. Hermes? Y’know, the man in charge of all the trains.”
“Oh,” Eurydice says dumbfoundedly, leaning against the wall. She knows Hermes; everyone knows who Hermes is. Mr. Hades had once said that their forge was in charge of supplying wheels and for doing repairs when certain parts of the trains that Mr. Hermes owned broke down. “So you’re the famous Orpheus Mr. Hermes talks about when he comes ‘round.”
The boy- Orpheus, apparently- nods enthusiastically.
She exhales loudly through her nose. “Fine,” she says. “But you’re sleeping outside. You ain’t invadin’ my private space.” Eurydice crosses the room, picks the boy up by the arm, and drags him to the door. “This is my room, a’ight? Stay out .”
“What do you mean it’s your room?” Orpheus asks, crossing his arms defensively. “There’s not a bed in there.”
“Mr. Hades ain’t nice enough to get me a bed,” she snaps angrily. “Now shut up, and leave me alone .”
“Ain’t nice enough to get you a bed?” Orpheus repeats, gazing at Eurydice incredulously. Eurydice seethes through her teeth. “You’re not gonna let me sleep until I give you an answer, are you?” Eurydice says. Posh-boy doesn’t say nothing; that’s a yes, in Eurydice’s books.
“I work here for food and board,” Eurydice explains, yanking the old mattress across the floor and organising her pile of ragged blankets. “Mr. Hades knew my parents. When they passed, he offered to let me stay ‘ere. Obviously, kindness never comes for free. Not here, at least.” She doesn’t mean to sound as bitter as she does.
“That’s sad, ma’am,” Orpheus blurts, and Eurydice snorts. “Thanks, Mr. Obvious,” Eurydice sighs, sitting down. “And don’t call me ma’am. It’s Eurydice.” A moment of silence passes as Eurydice pulls off her boots and flings them across the room.
She glances over at the boy; Orpheus looks almost pathetic, huddled against the hulking doorframe. Sighing, she tosses him a blanket, which he fumbles with. “Don’t soil that, or I’ll impale you with a poker,” she threatens half-heartedly.
“Yes ma- Eurydice,” he stammers, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “Thanks.”
“So what’s your story?” she asks, in an attempt to make conversation. It’s late, but she’s not the slightest bit tired. “I’ve told you mine.”
“I don’t have a story,” Orpheus says. “I’m only here because I got separated from Mr. Hermes at the markets.”
“He’ll be back for you tomorrow,” Eurydice promises. “Mr. Hades gets word sent quick.”
Orpheus offers Eurydice a smile. “Thank you for the blanket,” he says, holding up the said piece of cloth. Eurydice rolls her eyes, lying down on her side. “Don’t mention it,” she says, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
It’s been a while since she’s had company. Feeling’s nice, though, if you ask Eurydice. She’ll never admit it, but it’s quite nice.
Mr. Hades gives her a hard tap to the head the next morning when he realises that Orpheus has been left in the hall. “You know anything about being hospitable, girl?” he hisses. “Sorry, sir,” Eurydice says, averting her gaze and trying to ignore the stinging at the top of her head. “I- uh- didn’t know-”
“No, she was perfectly hospitable, Mr. Hades,” Orpheus cuts in smoothly. “Eurydice was quite the pleasant partner to, um, spend time with.”
“That so?” Mr. Hades asks, narrowing his eyes in Eurydice’s direction. “Uh, yessir,” Eurydice stammers, smiling rather awkwardly. Her boss grunts. “Very well,” Mr. Hades huffs. “I’ll send word to Hermes that you’re here, boy.”
“Thanks,” Eurydice mumbles to Orpheus, disbelieving that the boy had actually cared enough for her to save her from a possible talking-to. “You saved my ass.”
“You’re welcome,” Orpheus says, smiling at her. “Are we friends, Eurydice? I’ve- I’ve never had a friend before.”
“If you want to be friends,” Eurydice shrugs, and they shake on it.