Chapter Text
Hob didn’t know why he did it.
That was a lie. He knew exactly why he did it.
Every meeting for the past six hundred years or so had taken place exactly a century after the last. The stranger didn’t deviate from this pattern, so neither did Hob.
Except for their last meeting.
Hob had waited all night, exactly one hundred years since the stranger had stormed off in the rain. This time, the pale man had not shown his face.
Maybe he’d gotten the date wrong. Six centuries was a long time, and there were many opportunities to forget. So he came back the next day. And the next. Still no sign of the stranger. Hob went as far as to leave his mobile number with the bartender to give to someone who came in and asked after Robert Gadling.
No call came.
It was terribly cold outside. Hob heard the bell jingle as the door closed behind him. He pulled his gloves off before unwinding his scarf from around his neck. Behind the bar was an old man who smiled when he saw who had entered.
“Good to see you, Hob!”
“Hello, Ken. It’s good to see you too.” The two had gotten to know each other over the course of their campaign to save the pub. “So the council has finally given in?” He slid onto a stool while the man poured him a whiskey.
“Ay, for now,” Ken replied. “They’ve pacified the real estate people. I’d say I’m surprised that the petition and protests did the trick,” he mused, then leaned in and lowered his voice, “though I suspect a lot of it was due to our mysterious benefactor.”
Hob said nothing, instead raising his glass as a toast. “Though I can’t help but wonder, what’s in it for Bob Gardener?” mused Ken as he wandered away to check on the pub's other patrons.
Hob took a sip to keep himself from smiling. As far as anyone knew, Bob Gardener was off traveling and enjoying his retirement. He was just someone who spent his youth in the borough and didn’t want it to be turned into a space full of soulless apartment buildings while he still lived. Officially, he was paying Hob Gadling to look after his affairs while he was away. Unfortunately for Bob Gardener, word would soon reach Richmond that he had died before returning home. Hob Gadling, the closest thing he had to family, would inherit everything.
What did Bob Gardener get out of it, indeed?