Prompt Post: ROUND TWO

[oakenshields13]

ROUND TWO IS CLOSED

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Rules post.

Flat view.

ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)

ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)

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Re: FILL: the fine print (3n/?)

[minarchy]

apparently i need to start a new thread for lj to let me post. hello, new thread!
Charles didn't go to bed. He did put the budgeting aside until morning, both taking Armando's advice and the because he was terrible at do so effectively when sleep-deprived. There was plenty of other work that he needed to complete, however, including a rebinding of Madame Bovary for a customer that had inherited it in a particularly sorry state. When Charles had originally taken the commission, the customer had mentioned that they'd had trouble finding a decent restorer before, for other books that were falling apart. He was hoping that, should they approve of his work, he might be able to get another commission from them. Collectors of earlier editions tended to be willing to pay rather a lot more money for a decent job.

Moira had also given him a heads-up concerning a couple of people she knew from work who were looking for some rarer editions; she never failed to send people his way, despite their differences. If it weren't for the fact that Charles had five dependants and his livelihood to care for, they would have made an excellent couple. As it was, their individual career paths took them in opposite directions; Moira spent all day picking up after thankless people, and all she want when she clocked off was to relax. Charles spent all day amongst literature, one of the great loves of his life; so when he clocked off, he was more than willing to offer his time to the children.

It probably didn't help that they were as stubborn as each other. It made for a wonderful and always interesting friendship, though.

He'd been working on the cover for a couple of weeks; the customer was willing to pay extra for him to recreate the original, first edition cover, and Charles was more than happy to comply.

There were several books that he had previously recovered from a similar period, and he had been able to get his contacts at the library to let him take a set of detailed photographs of a first edition they had in storage (although they'd left a security guard in the room with him; apparently they were worried that he might run off with it).

Despite the fact that the boards and leather had succumbed worryingly to rot, the binding itself was more or less intact, meaning that Charles would simply have to restitch it into the spine once he'd finished it.

He moved the lamp closer to his position, mounted the leather onto his desk easel, and continued to carefully emboss the spine.

Raven found him at eight am, still carefully pressing gilt into the design. She stepped cat-like across the room, and touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. His face was cold.

"Charles," she said, when he looked up, irises quivering as they attempted to focus on her face, "it's time for breakfast."

"Yes," he said, dazedly, "in a minute."

She didn't move, rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone and into the edges of his hair. He leant into the touch, ever so slightly, and she felt him sigh.

"Five and a half grand, Raven," he said. "Just for a recover. You know how much that means to us."

"Of course," she said. "But it can wait a few hours whilst you eat, and sort out what we need to do today."

Charles didn't say anything, but after a long moment he laid down his tools and pushed himself upright, and she knew she'd won, at least for now. She hoped that the reappearance of the Lehnsherrs later on would distract Charles from working himself into the ground long enough to get him to relax. She followed him as he wandered towards the kitchen, stretching the kinks from his back; pressing her fingers into the corners of her eyes, she stimulated enough moisture to conceal the glaring bloodshot nature.

When Charles didn't sleep, he wasn't the only one. Of course, she would never tell him, because he did so enjoy the illusion that his matyr complex offered him; that he was the only one suffering and, in doing so, was protecting the rest of them from it. He always seemed to forget that fretting about the welfare of the family wasn't a trait that he alone carried, and Raven would often lie awake, listening to see if Charles would come up the stairs.