When Your Boss Asks a Favour

# When Your Boss Asks a Favor...

*Posted by : Nim on Apr 22, 2018, 2:19am*

- Hansons Apparel, Centrum. Morning August 20th -

Emily led Tate to her office as she tried to think of some menial tasks she could give him to do. As they walked, Emily noticed some of the curious looks she was getting from her co-workers. It wasn't everyday that she came in with an attractive young boy in tow.

Thanks to Tate giving her a ride, she had gotten to work half an hour before her shift was supposed to start, so she should have some time to get Tate started on something before she needed to begin tackling her responsibilities.

As she passed the door into her office to Tate who shut the door behind them, the young aristocrat asked, "Is this your office? It's kind of..."

"Yes, this is my office, and yes, it is probably more bland than what you are used to, but it works," Emily interjected as she sat at her desk chair. Tate sat across from her.

"So do I get to be your secretary for the day?" Tate smirked.

"If I can't find anything better for you to do, I suppose you can do that," Emily muttered. "Hmmm, think you could be a stockboy?"

"That doesn't sound too bad. What do I do?"

"You stock the shelves," Emily replied, deadpan.

Tate rolled his eyes. "Sounds simple enough. Where do I get started?"

"I'll hook you up with our logistics manager, and he'll show you where everything goes and how to present everything... and how to..." Emily paused as she began to reconsider. "Actually, I forgot how much went into that job. If you are planning to work here less than a day, it probably won't be worthwhile to train you to be a stockboy."

"Umm, alright. I suppose I don't want to get in the way. Do you have another idea?" Tate asked.

"Do you know how to sew?"

"Nope."

"Clean toilets?"

"Ew, no, I'm not doing that!" Tate grimaced.

"Er, I don't think you want to operate the loom..." Emily put her hand on her chin as she tried to think of some other jobs that Tate might be able to do with minimal training.

"Could I be one of your sales persons?" Tate asked. "You said you're the sales manager, right?"

Emily frowned. "I am, but I doubt even your boyish good looks will help you make much in the way of sales..." Emily smiled as an idea occured to her. "Speaking of boyish good looks... how do you feel about modeling?"

Tate raised an eyebrow. "Modeling?"

"Yeah, like, we ask you to stand or sit in a pose while we get photographs and/or drawings of you wearing one of our products. Lots of university students will do that for a quick crescent."

Tate smirked. "So I get to pose in snazzy outfits for money? Count me in!"

Emily smiled. "Excellent, I'll run this by my boss real quick, and if we get the greenlight, which we should, then I'll get you situated." As she started to rise from her desk, there was suddenly a knock on her door.

"Come in!" she called out.

To Emily's surprise, her boss, Jonathan Hanson, owner of Hansons Apparel, came in dressed in semi-professional attire, as was usually the case with him.

"Are your ears burning?" she joked.

"Actually, my ears are a little warmer than usual," Hanson remarked, causing Emily's smile to falter a bit. Had he been listening in on her conversation?

"Mr. Montclaire, it is most opportune that you decided to come today," Hanson continued, reaching a hand out to greet Tate. Tate took his hand and shook it, although he looked as confused as Emily felt.

"Yeah, I was going to offer him a modeling gig," Emily said.

"And he can do that if that is what he wants," Hanson replied, "but I am actually here because I wanted to offer you a unique job for the day, one that I think Mr. Montclaire can help you with."

Emily's curiosity was piqued. "Okay, what can I do for you?"

"It has come to my attention that there is a worker's strike at Corbet's Textile Mill. As you know, a very significant amount of our fabrics are produced there, so I would very much like to know how that situation gets resolved so that I can react accordingly and be prepared to adjust our prices as necessary in a timely manner."

Emily's eyes widened. "A strike? That can't be good." Strikes had historically ended very poorly for almost everybody involved.

"I have a feeling this one will be different. There was also apparently an explosion at the Green Docks last night. Most of the Militia is scoring the Sprawl for a suspect. I don't believe they will risk escalating the situation at Corbet's Mill until their manpower becomes less thinly spread."

It amazed Emily how informed Hanson always seemed to be. "And why are you telling me this?" she asked.

"I would like you to observe this strike and see what comes of it," Hanson explained. "I'll pay you double time for every hour you are there. And Mr. Montclaire, I'll pay you five crescents an hour to stay with Emily and make sure no harm comes to her."

"So you're offering to hire me on as a bodyguard?" Tate smirked.

"Only temporarily. I'll pay you with cash so we don't have to worry about those annoying taxes. Unless you would rather be a model..."

"Nah, being a bodyguard sounds cool. Emily, are you up for it?" Tate asked, looking back toward Emily.

"Umm, yeah..." she was rather surprised about this dramatic shift to the course of her day, but watching the proceedings of the strike could be helpful to the Rising Star, and the extra money would be nice... but this could be very, very risky.

"When should we try to get back by?" Emily asked.

"Oh, I will probably be leaving here around eight-ish, so any time before that would work," Hanson replied.

"Is there anything I need to do before I go?"

"I found some ragged peasant outfits lying around that you two can put on if you would like to blend in a bit better. They might not fit terribly well, but most peasants don't have the luxury of being able to get clothes that fit them perfectly."

"Umm, thanks. Good idea."

"And get with Tiffany as well. She can apply some dirt to your faces to make you look less out of place. And don't take the gloves off. You both have fairly soft hands, and any observant person will pick up on that in a second."

"Thank you Mr. Hanson."

"You're welcome. Oh, and one last thing... if the Militia does come... run."

With that, Hanson opened the door and left. Emily took a deep breath and rose out of her chair. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'll be fine," Tate responded nonchalantly. "I've never participated in a strike before," he mused outloud.

"Neither have... neither have I..."

###### ===============

- The Steamworks, The Silken Mill. Midday, 20th August -

After getting into their disguises, Tate had driven the two of them through Paramount Hill to a parking lot at the University he attended in the East Twins District. "I don't want any of those dirty peasants to steal my car," Tate explained.

They legged it from there, and they didn't have to go too far before they began to see the crowds thickening. Emily shouldered her way through the crowd to get a better look at what was going on, and Tate was forced to follow suit, which he didn't seem terribly pleased about. "Damn, these people stink," he complained quietly.

Eventually, they got into the courtyard, and Emily saw the strike organizers blocking people from entering the mill. Now they would hopefully have front row seats to whatever happened agreement happened if Corbet decided to show up. Wait, hadn't she heard yesterday that Corbet had died? This could be interesting...

"Through struggle we persevere!!! Better Pay and Safety!!!"

Emily started to become concerned as the violence between the strikers, the Constabulary, and some of the factory bosses began to escalate. As fights began to break out, Emily crossed her fingers, desperately hoping that nobody would bother to look too hard at her and Tate, because if these strikers figured out who they were, her and Tate might not live to see tomorrow...

"Through struggle we persevere!!! Better Pay and Safety!!!"

The deafening rallying cry went out again. Emily wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

Then Emily heard a rumbling sound in the distance that seemed to be getting louder... and closer. She didn't even feel herself clutch Tate's gloved hand as fear and anticipation overcame her.

*The Militia are coming.*

The source of the noise soon made an appearance. As a massive war machine rolled up the street, spewing steam, its large cannon pointed threateningly toward the strikers, the crowd finally started to quiet down. Emily knew the smart thing to do would be to get as far away from this imminent massacre as she could, but fear and curiosity held her in place. She felt her heartrate increase and she instinctively grasped Tate's hand more tightly as the militia brandishing their weapons took up position. An automobile then drove past the soldiers, and a well dressed figure got out.

It was First Citizen Josiah Hazard.

Emily had seen the man before at Highholm gatherings, but she had never been introduced to him. She usually made a point of trying to stay largely out of the public eye, and getting close to Hazard was a bad way to do that. People usually took note of who was spending time with the First Citizen.

THIEF!!! SCUMBAG!!

As a rock hurtled out of the crowd toward the First Citizen, Emily decided it was time to go. If these people wanted to stir up the hornet's nest, they were going to get what was coming to them.

As she began to frantically search for an exit, she suddenly noticed that she was holding hands with Tate. "Let go!" she hissed at him.

"You were the one that grabbed me!" he protested, although he acquiesced.

As she started to shoulder her way through the crowd, she heard a thundering sound behind her.*The battle has finally begun*! she thought fretfully.

Overwhelmed by fear, Emily didn't see the giant man in front of her until she bumped squarely into his chest. "Sorry," she mumbled in response.

She was about to walk around him when the man stepped into her path again, causing her to look up into the man's face. "W-what do y-you want?" she asked, trying to sound tough, but her stammer made her sound as frightened as she felt.

"Where are you goin', missy?" the man growled."

"Aw-w-way..." Why did she need to explain herself to this thug, anyway?

"Why? Those militia didn't even aim the cannon at us. They're all bluster and no bite. They know that once they try to hurt us, we'll overwhelm them and put them in their place."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she replied quietly.

"I'm very sure about it, missy. Now turn around and face the enemy like a true worker of Dusk. I can't let your cowardice infect my brothers and sisters in arms now."

Emily grimaced and hissed, "Fine!" before turning around and trying to find another avenue of escape.

A voice rose above the crowd. "I came to you this day seeking peace. I came to you seeking friendship. I came to you seeking to understand the plight of the working man. I did not send others because I felt that you deserved my ear, my eye, my generosity. I have offered you the hand of friendship and you have given back your spite and your ignorance. What happens next is upon your heads, I will no longer stand between you and the justice of the city."

With dread, Emily's gaze turned back to the First Citizen, who was walking back to his car as the Militia pointed their weapons at the crowd and the tank's cannon turned toward them. *Oh no, we're doomed...*

Yet the shots did not come. Suddenly, a well dressed figure emerged from the crowd.

"I understand what you want," the man shouted. "It's what I've wanted for years."

What was this?

"My brother ran this mill with such ignorance and lack of attention, for that I am sorry. But I am here on David's behalf, and as morbid as it may sound, he will trouble you no longer."

Emily repositioned herself to get a better look at the speaker. It was Westley Corbet. She remembered seeing him at Spink's party, the night that the tremble had happened, and apparently the night that David had died.

"You're citizens of Dusk just as much as we are, so there is no reason you should toil for our benefit. My words should be chosen wisely but they are as wise as they need to be in this circumstance. By noon tomorrow I look to have full ownership of the Silken Mill, and upon that ownership I guarantee a pay raise and improved conditions. It's only what is right, what you fine people deserve. Violence is not the way to resolve this."

Emily found herself holding her breath. Perhaps there might not be a fight, perhaps Hanson had been right, and this strike would be different. Perhaps change without violence could happen...

"I only ask that you trust me on this and that's difficult to do. If that isn't enough.. please tell me what is. I shouldn't have to apologize for brutality but here I am. Surely the First Citizen wishes only the best. We shouldn't live in fear, on *both sides of that gate.*"

There was a moment of nearly complete silence, with only the rumbling of the steam tank behing heard. Then, the First Citizen waved and the Militia put up their guns. Emily joined the crowd in breathing in relief as Hazard said, "Your new employer has spoken and the city has listened."

As Hazard, the tank, and the Militia began to head home, the crowd began to disperse as a resolution to the situation seemed to have occured. Emily was about to join them when she noticed Westley having a discussion with one of the strikers. She made her way closer in order to try to pick up on what was being said.

"...Ya're not the owner yet are ya? Ya said tomorrow noon."

Westley chuckled. "Tomorrow it is then. I will come and see you and have my promises delivered to you in writing. A legal binding contract."

"Our demands. For every worker in the Mill."

Emily saw Westley take an envelop from the striker. As he turned around to return to his carriage, his eyes landed on her and Tate, and a flash of recognition came over his face. She quickly turned away. They had come for what they wanted. The strike would continue till tomorrow, and apparently the demands would be met. Now all she had to do was find out what those demands were...

"Can we go now?" Tate moaned.

"Yes, I think we can go," Emily replied.

###### ==================

- Verdant Hills Apartment Complex, West Twins. Evening, August 20th -

Once they had gotten back to Tate's vehicle, he had driven them back to Hansons. They had then gone to Hanson's office and promptly been ordered to clean themselves up in the shower rooms in the basement.

Now cleaned and dressed in the clothes they had worn that morning, Emily and Tate informed Hanson of what had transpired in as much detail as possible, minus the holding-hands thing.

Once done, Hanson dismissed them after paying Tate (in cash, as promised) and asking if they could go back tomorrow. Emily said she would, but Tate was noncommittal. They then got back into Tate's car, and he drove Emily back to her apartment.

"Can I expect to see you here tomorrow?" Emily asked before getting out.

"I- I can't make any promises." Tate replied.

"Okay, well, think on it. I'll wait here till seven for you. If you don't show up by then, I'll start my trek to work without you."

"Okay." Tate then got out of his car and walked around to open the door for her, as he had done all day. He helped her out, and once she was on her feet, he finally went for it.

Emily put a finger to her lips, causing Tate to freeze. "Do you think this is an appropriate time for this? We haven't even had an official date yet."

"We had a near-death experience today!" Tate exclaimed. "Shared trauma always brings people together. You should be passionately in love with me."

"Maybe it hasn't kicked in yet," she smirked. Then a wicked smile came over her face as she said, "Tell you what, if you come tomorrow, I will give you the kiss you seek."

Tate frowned. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"I'll think about it a little harder then."

"You do that." With that, Emily turned around and began to walk back to her apartment room, although she took a longing look over her shoulder as Tate got back into his car, and drove off. With a sigh, she climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and went in.

She felt like there were some things she had wanted to do tonight, but whatever they were, they didn't seem important now. She made a quick meal out whatever she had in her icebox. After cleaning up, she changed into her sleepwear and flopped onto her bed.

For some reason, try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about Tate. Maybe he was onto something with that "shared trauma" crap. Whatever the case was, it took her awhile before she finally fell asleep.