SAMPLE | Third-Person Excerpt
The bar opened around five during the weekly-trickle of regulars that passed in and out of the double doors at the front. A select few spiraled out of the hole in the back. But they all came, familiar faces with weary eyes and aching bones, tired from a rough day on the job or just to avoid a mess at home. Either way they were here with their pockets at the ready for the emptying.
Some were on a long-standing tab that Greed always seemed to forget about when one of his men got on his case about it. “Oh, Jim? He’s running a tab again? Must have slipped my mind.” He’d say that a lot - most of his crew didn’t bother him after the initial reminder. Only Dolcetto had anything to say about the lost revenue and it usually had something to do with how it was eating a hole out of Greed’s own pocket. Never worried about himself, only his boss.
It the kind of loyalty money just couldn’t buy.
This evening was no different - the sun was only starting to dip down around seven that evening and the lights in the bar flickered on. There were a few of the young crowd gathered in the back, making asses of themselves but overall having a good time of it. Some of the older crowd, coal-digging folks from the way-back of town, had mingled at the bar with pints at the ready and their soot-sodding gear in their laps. They smoked their pipes, making idle chit-chat whilst casting disapproving glances over at the gaggle of teenage rookies.
Greed loved them all. They were all such precise characters playing out their lives one day at a time. It was a fascinating watch, seeing the shift in power slide from one group to the next and back again. Nothing really changed and life proved to be a continuous cycle with the new taking the place of the old and the newer filling the gap the previous generation left behind. All in all, in with the new and out with the old.
Mostly, his regulars would always come back at least once or twice during the week; sometimes more on the weekend. And other times, that one pint would be their last and Greed would never see them again.
Such was the mortal life.
He yawned behind the bar and stretched his arms over his head. His shoulders clicked into place as he wiggled from side to side, pulling at the muscles that cased his ribs in. From behind him, he heard the clattering of billiard balls as Roa and Martel set up a game.
“Play you for dinner tomorrow,” Martel had purred as she grabbed a cue from the back wall. “If I win, I want something from the butcher’s tomorrow - a big slab of something fresh.”
Roa stood silent, like a rock. He grabbed his own cue and Greed could hear the sudden rush of air through his thick nostrils. It was a sign of an agreement as he chalked up his own cue. The Homunculus turned his head over his shoulder and grinned. If he were a betting man, and he usually was if the stakes were high enough and he was on the winning end of a good pot, he would have put all of his chips on Roa. But seeing that there was no money on the table and there was little to gain but self-satisfying entertainment, he put his sights on Martel - she would be a far more interesting player, if anything else.
But he was pulled back to work, if he could even call it that. One of the old coal workers was holding up his pint. “Another one of these, keeper.” The man had to be pushing into his early fifties - his mustache was a steel gray and the wisps at the tips were coated in black dust. Greed shrugged off his interest in the pool match to swipe the mug from the aging gent. “You’re suckin’ me dry, Jim! Gotta pay off your debt before good old God takes you away. Then who will pick up your tab here, huh?” Greed shot his brows over his dark shades before sliding the drink nimbly down the bar top and over to the taps.
“You don’t trust an old man’s honesty?” Jim barked as he slapped a calloused hand to the wood surface of the bar top. “Don’t try to change an old dog when he’s already half-way in the dog house - you young people think you can change the world. Ha! Just trust me on my word and take it like the little penny-pincher you are, son.” Jim’s rant had given him excitement back in his limbs, but he started coughing into the crook of his elbow. Greed’s frown set in deep as he maneuvered a coaster into position and placed the foam-topped beer mug on the table.
He hated to think Jim would slip from him one of these days. Probably sooner rather than later.
Jim grumbled against another cough, forcing it away by sheer will alone. “Don’t give me that look.” He took up the mug in his veiny hands and shoved the top to his lips - he took a big swig and foam bubbled and popped in his mustache. “I’ll give you your dos if you stop with that frown of yours - doesn’t fit you, Greed.”
Greed’s smile widened. Everyone called him Greed. He knew no different name and no one questioned it. Most thought it was just a weird nickname given to him by his crew, all of whom hadn’t tried to dissuade that rumor to any of the regulars that passed through the doors of The Devil’s Nest. It didn’t matter much to the Homunculus either way. People loved him and he loved people. The more attention he got, the more he relished in the company.
“No frowns here, old timer. Just plenty of smiles all around!” Greed waved his hands above his head dramatically before letting out his own laugh. And it was a laugh - loud and boisterous, it filled the room and turned a couple of heads for a second or two before the drink got the best of them and they all returned back to their personal merriments. “Can’t displease a customer - we all want something and if this is your ticket, I don’t see why I can’t punch all holes at once and give you your full satisfaction.”
Jim placed the mug down. “If you could find some nice lasses from the North, I’ll give you my soul lined in gold. I’d rather be in this place for eternity then have to spend my days in some pristine-white cloud with a bunch of angels singing hymns. Least here, you have good entertainment and even better booze to pass the time.” The man took another swig, much to Greed’s satisfaction, before shuffling through his pockets for some change. He came up with less than half of his total bill.
“It’s all I got for this part of the week,” he grunted.
Greed shrugged and leaned his elbows up on the edge of his bar. “Whatever you’re willing to give to keep this ship afloat.” Hungrily, the Homunculus snatched up the change and pocketed it, but not before giving old Jim a brilliant smile. “You’re fine, Jim - just keep filling your desires. All men want something and if that isn’t living, I don’t what is.” He took a pause to fish out a pack of cigarettes from a pocket that wasn’t filled with spare change from his customers. He took out one before turning and shaking the pack in Jim’s direction. Jim scoffed, but took one anyway.
“Ain’t it the truth. Ain’t nothing more human than want.” Jim placed the cigarette in his mouth just as Greed lit his own.
“And want is just a part of greed,” the Homunculus admitted.