Mouse at Home

Mouse rarely indulged in personal vices, but being back home amplified temptation somehow. Harkish was one of the few places in which she felt comfortable moving like any other person, strolling down the cobble-stone roads, humming and looking through the windows of the shops that made up the vast majority of the first floors of residential buildings. She rarely had the opportunity to take a longer break in her hometown. Part of her was a little sad about that. She spent a lot of time sitting in the cargo holds of airships in cities she had little interest in visiting or exploring, waiting for departure and listening for footsteps, just in case she would need to find a different hiding spot. Even at so late an hour, many storefronts were still lit, the mostly younger shopclerks waiting for the night shift to give way to dawn regarding her with careful apprehension as she took note of the everyday items and services they offered. Mouse knew she was a rare visitor to these parts. Even in a large city like Harkish the people running small businesses could recognize the locals and it wasn't too odd for them to be wary of unfamiliar faces in the dead of night. The older ones were usually less suspicious about her. Mouse figured, they probably still remembered her from way back, before she became a Courier. At this point, she had grown used to it. It had been this way for several years now, and she refused to let the visible distrust put a damper on what had been a thoroughly enjoyable night. Harkish's bar culture was nothing special, as far as Mouse was concerned, but what set it apart from other places for her was that she didn't have to worry about what she would do once she was done having fun. She had gone some place where she knew people would play music to pay for their own tab, played some cards and some dice, and found an opportune moment to leave for a long scenic walk home. She stopped in front of a closed shopfront and rummaged in her inside pockets for the key. She finally fished out a single copper key on a loop of string. She rarely needed it, but it still had its designated space in the inside of her pocket.

She locked the door behind her. It was a small, simple repair-shop, focused on household items and antiques. The shop floor had about enough space to accommodate four people waiting in line. She slipped behind the till and into the staff area, which was were the majority of the work happened. The walls were lined with slightly low boards that served as tables for the workshop. Part of the room was separated by a curtain. She made an effort to move quietly, a skill she had turned into a profession, but regardless, a mechanical hand pulled the curtain aside and a tired face greeted her from behind, seated on a worn mattress.

"Don't sneak around in here. It's creepy." the figure said. Mouse could tell from his voice that he hadn't been asleep.

"Sorry." she shrugged the coat off her shoulders "I wasn't sure if you were already asleep."

"I'm not. Late hours. You look like you had a good time."

Mouse couldn't help but smile a guilty smile as she tilted her head from side to side "I did."

"That's nice." he pushed himself with the back against the headboard with his hands and fixed his blanket "Do you still have a few days?"

"At least a week." Mouse nodded "What time do you want to open tomorrow?"

"Maybe eight, maybe nine. I still have enough to do to justify either."

"I'll make sure to be up." she turned toward the narrow flight of stairs "I'll be upstairs."

"Okay. Good night."

"Good night."

Mouse could hear him pull the curtain closed again as she slowly climbed the stairs.

The room above the workshop was small. An old children's bedroom that had been toned down and cleaned up enough that she could spend the few nights a year there in relative comfort. It went unused when she wasn't there. Her brother, who ran the shop downstairs on his own couldn't climb the stairs. Each time she returned here, she had to quickly clean the room, make the bed, swiff and sweep before she could take a proper rest. She made an effort to arrive during the day. Those weren't tasks she liked doing after hours. Once, they had shared the room, but that was long ago now. She dropped onto the mattress. She barely fit length-wise. The ceiling was a patchwork of wooden planks, some of which were old enough to still have the small drawings they had put there all those years ago. She could see a small dog, some stars, some flowers. She couldn't tell who had drawn which doodle at this point. Neither of them had kept up with drawing. She closed her eyes. In the morning, she'd go find a place to get breakfast for the two of them, so they could chat a little before opening the shop. Her brother would insist that she didn't have to stay around during the day, since it was mostly him taking apart household items, and in turn she would insist that she had nothing better to do anyway and spend the day behind the counter. She knew that the work would bore her. She had grown used to the adrenaline that rushed her system periodically when working her assignments as a Courier, and she wouldn't be able to stand behind a counter and chat with customers for more than a few days at a time, but it was all the family time that she could get, and that she new to value.

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