Bill slept in for the first time in a while. There was extra security and tensions were indeed high but all he wanted to do was sleep. He'd earned it. After every dangerous and pointless errand and being put in the shadows of the lads army as blacklist troops. He'd hated and liked being blacklisted because he was part of the workings so he'd have effect on what happened next. He also hated it because he'd be told on secret with a thanks or show of appreciation. The code of war conduct did not exist here in jolly Londonway, so anything went and goes.
He got a knock on the door of the room he'd taken for the night, "Mr Hatchet, a gypsy is here to see you. She's down stairs"
This got his attention. He rose quick and got dressed making an effort to look good considering he was still dressed from the night before. He combed his hair and checked his teeth before heading downstairs to see this gypsy woman. He heard rumours that gypsy women were the most beautiful he'd ever meet on the eastern side of Londonway. He was keen to see if that was true.
Going down the stairs he saw her sitting at a table looking impatient. He heard the rumours right. She had nice lips, big brown eyes and a body shape just off an hourglass. She wore a red and brown dress down to her ankles with a rose tied to her wrist via a silk wrap. As fiercly beautiful as she was her attitude made her look ugly. It annoyed him to see such impatience from a guest. He'd never show impatience publicly so it was expected from his guests to do the same. They'd learn soon enough.
"a real man would never keep a woman waiting - -" She was interrupted by Bill's very low tolerance of her behaviour.
"a real woman would never expect more than what a man could deliver as promised" he said sitting down.
It was just them sitting in the pub on this cold morning with some sun peaking over cloud cover.
"we heard you reshuffled the deck, now I see it's true what they say of you" She said this looking over a short ish man with shadow, basic clothes but a composure of a king.
"so people talk already, I'm surprised it took such a short time" Bill was genuinely surprised.
Normally it'd take something big to get any news let alone attention here. Crimes were happening everywhere and it was all such a mixed bag it was hard to tell what was real or worth knowing.
"you took out three lads army members - -"
"they were not lads army, turncoats to money nothing less and now nothing more" He again interrupted her correcting falsified facts.
"they didn't tell me you were as rude as prison dog. No family clan, doesn't surprise me much" she looked intrigued and annoyed.
"so you came to see the truth behind the rumours, and they are true. Could I offer you a drink?" Bill asked pointing to the bartender on call.
"whisky with ice" she said.
"what's your name?" Bill asked.
He'd signalled the bartender to serve the lady her drink promptly.
"Maria Belle, you'd be Mr Bill Hatchet then?" Maria asked still looking suspicious of him.
"you already knew that, it's your brother that doesn't", he knew she was spying for her family, "and if he really wanted to know I would been happy to meet him...promptly"
"gypsies are only well timed when family need them to be" she was trying to make the point that she came becuase she was asked.
"so you'll go back and tell him I'm somewhat like the rumours plus rude -"
"more handsome too, but that's for me" she interrupted him for the first time in they're conversation.
Bill was frustrated by her, but didn't want her to go.
Ms Belle finished her drink, "you should buy your whiskey from my supplier. It's much better"
"I'll consider it" Bill said looking over her, and liking how his view of her changed.
They both stood up and made they're way to the door. Only Ms Belle left the building. He knew her brother would ask for his visit soon. So Bill sent a peace offering in the form of a lad with boxing history. Ms Belle did not know that he knew her brother was Michael Shankel, a convict trooper with a love for boxing and whiskey. He'd show up himself to these underground fights one day, but only when he knew he'd come back alive.
If the lad he sent came alive it was a good sign... Dead not so much. Bill put his mind off the 'could be' s' and ordered breakfast. A simple eggs on toast with tomatoes and salt. Followed by a couple whiskey drinks. By the afternoon which consisted of funerals and lower management reshuffles he'd gotten word Shankel had cleaned up the lad he sent and carried him back with six other gypsies in a wagon.
The wagon had arrived by the barracks, no one got out until Bill stepped out of the building. As he did three gypsies stepped down and gave the beaten lad away surprisingly with dignity. The oldest out of the three pointed towards Bill then one of men in the carriage. He was a tattooed man with a heavy coat on and one black eye.
The man pointed out stood up but not down to speak to Bill at first from a distance.
"he was alright, but a real man fights his own battles" His thick welsh accent made it hard to understand, but Bill heard enough to know what he meant.
"a starting fight mate, reckon I could try?" Bill asked.
"no Hatchets, we're not in the trenches" This made the gypsies laugh.
"so your place, good fight, drinks and then business?" Bill assumed, it was his experience with gypsies that gave him the thought.
Shankel grinned on the idea, "is there really an order to it? My place, let us show them how men fight"
This caused great cheer and laughter among both the lads and gypsies alike. Shankel then jumped down and stood up close to Bill. Bill looked him in the eye calm collected.
"if it's not a good fight you swim under my boat... mate"
Bill was not going to take this lightly, "have a good day... mate" Bill stepped closer to make effect.
Shankel reacted by breaking out laughing slapping him on the shoulder and leaving with the other gypsies.