Make Me A Match

Hmmmm, yes...

The Madame glanced up and down Fila’s form, now donning the uniform that was provided. “It looks like you’d make a rather striking waitress, and that in itself is ever so promising!”

The woman tucked her hand beneath her chin and chuckled, “Mmmhmhmhm... if I were a crueler mistress, I would’ve gone back on my word, but oh, that would be terribly uncharacteristic of me.” She took a step forward and readjusted the brooch over Fila’s clavicle, as well as habitually tug down on her sleeves. “... A few frills here and there wouldn’t hurt, although I’ve been corrected before... oh, nonetheless! I’m satisfied.” She headed back for the door and opened it, “Alright! Let’s go meet your new comrades-in-food-service!”

“Naturally, dear!”

With Fila in tow, the Madame headed back downstairs, guiding her would-be employee to the nook just behind the staircase. In the cranny was assembled six members of various shapes and sizes, settled comfortably in their seats, except for the giant of a woman standing next to a door leading into the kitchen. Sitting on the table, and the second person they would see was Janette, after her was the bartender, Riley, following after, the old gaffer. The next two that had yet to be introduced sat on the latter end of the table, one a very neat and pretty young woman with an empty gaze, and the other being a man with a reclusive appearance.

The Madame ushered Fila into the room and closed the wall off after stepping in herself.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Madame greeted as she entered the corner room, “Thank you for giving me a brief moment of your time!”

“Of course.”
“Ye.”
“Mmm.”
”Dust must die.”

Everyone glanced to girl with the empty gaze, but then back to Fila and the Madame.

“Right,” she sighed and rubbed her eyebrow, “I’m sure most of you have met Ms. Filigree, but would you care to introduce yourself? Maybe share something... like your favorite meal or hobby, or something?” All gazes were placed on the tall elf with expectancy.

“Walking is a nice hobby,” the Madame nodded, “As for myself,” her fingers flipped up as she listed different items, “I make pottery, write books, conjure new cooking recipes, and recently, gardening!”

“Oy, don’t make yo’self such an overachievah,” the old gaffer grunted with thump of his walking stick.

“Hmrph, but it’s true!” the proprietor huffed, she gestured a hand to the old gaffer, “Then why don’t you introduce yourself?”

“Pah, still a kid a’ heart... y’c’n call me Bert, lass. I’m the old buildin’ manajah,” spoke he with a small bow of his head, “Roight now, I ‘andle the merchandise. Be good to work with ya’, lass.”

“Hobby?” the Madame squinted.

“Eh, drinkin’.”
“Pft. Next?”

The bartender cooly raised her hand, “Riley Halfox, bartender. Never call me a barkeeper, ‘cause that’s just inelegant. On my downtime, I actually experiment with mixin’ drinks.”

“Ye,” Bert chimed in, “And I’m ‘er guinea pig. Gahaha! Ye...”

“We’re likely going to be working with each other, Fila,” Riley continued, “Thirsty throats and heavy minds need kegs with legs, as we’re keen on saying ‘round here.”

Janette offered her turn with a dainty raise of her hand, “Janette Boucher, the inn receptionist and the Madame’s secretary. When there aren’t any hands on the dining floor, I fill in. Oh, and I enjoy reading when I’m not busy.” She glanced down the table to the girl with the empty gaze. “Abby?”

The girl’s eyes lifted and met dead on with Fila’s. Even while she appeared to smile, a strange unearthly undertone followed her voice. She did not blink, not even once. “I clean until there is no dust. Not a speck. Dust is an anathema to the world, I live to purge the filth, to exterminate the grime. My very existence is to strike fear and trepidation into the hearts of dirt particles everywhere.”

There were a few quiet groans across the room, and the more senior members pressed their eyebrows.

“Very good, Abby,” the Madame sighed, “Remind me not to pull you away from your precious mission.”

Abby’s smile spread a little wider, not having moved her gaze at all from Fila.

“I’m Crow,” the man on the end of the table spoke, “I’m... uh... also on the cleaning team... oh, and my hobby is feeding birds. Yeah, yeah.” He nodded his head, as if reassuring himself.

Finally, the tall woman in the corner received everyone’s undivided attention. Her face carried a hard stare, her large, burly arms folded tightly over her chest.

“Margaret,” she grunted with a heavy accent, “I cook, and that’s all you need to know.”

“Boo!” the Madame’s cheeks puffed up and her brows tightened, “Warm up a little, iceberg! You could be nicer to our temps!”

“Grrrrr...” Margaret growled, there was the sound of knuckles tightening, but no other actions were taken.

Nevertheless, every member in the room was accounted for.

“Wonderful,” the Madame nodded, “Everyone, you may go back to your duties. Thank you again for your time!”

"Hmmm? I wanted to wait until you were working to tell you," the Madame replied with her smiling eyes, "That said, I suppose it would be worth it to show you the ropes..." She beckoned for Fila to follow after her and brought them to the main dining hall. It was a wide space with fourteen round tables encompassing a stage that was settled in the southeast corner.

“The job is fairly simple, m’dear,” began the Madame, “Serve customers food and drink, be sociable, and while it isn’t exactly part of your job, you could assist in keeping the tavern under control.” She motioned her hand to other mercenaries present in the room. “It goes without saying that these here are your customers, no matter how terrible or hideous they look.”

“Heeeey.”
“Nice low blow.”

“But my regular mercenaries are incredibly mild,” she continued with both her palms pressed together, “They’re not prone to violence in my tavern. After all, they know who’s boss. New upstarts, however, those tend to be the troublemakers here.”

"Wonderful," the Madame clapped her hands together, "I will say, however, depending on the gravity of the irritation, you're free to forcefully evict unruly customers when they start getting violent, and if patrons are getting too drunk, refuse to serve them anymore drinks. You'd know what to do, I'm sure." She cleared her throat and spoke louder so that the other patrons would hear her. "And if you're... harassed in any manner, I give you full permission to retaliate. No man is so entitled to the mishandling of your own body. When that happens, the customer is never right, they are ever so wrong."

There was a shuddering stillness in the tavern before everyone returned to their own business.

The Madame folded her arms and smiled, "Capiche? If you have no further questions, I give you recovery leave."

---

Fila