Put Yer Back Into It (Grubby & Dale)

WHAP!      WHAP!      WHAP!

These old bones don't get no rest I tells ya. I like it anyway, gives me somethin' to complain about. Don't rightly know what I'd do with myself if I didn't keep my hands busy, prolly be doin' somethin' fuggen stupid I bet like takin' fruit from carts. But there's better things to be doin'. Got me up on my outcrop here workin' on my store. Looks like a fuggen shitshack got aborted by another shitshack but it's mine, s'all mine. I earned that shit. Sorta. Started squattin' out in an abandoned dump'a a fuggen store one day, decided to make somethin' of it. Now I got lanterns hangin', I got shelves I built meself, crate furniture, stitched the rug my damn self there. It ain't nothin' to be proud a but I turned this place from a fuggen hole in the damn wall to a rogue's place to be ya understand? Somethin' satisfyin' 'bout makin' somethin' with yer own two hands, means ya did somethin' an' that's better'n sittin' around jaggin' off all day.

But it ain't no picnic. S'hard fuggen work there! Place is always fallin' the fuck apart, got a draft I don't know where it comes from, prolly get fuggen rats if they was too good fer my shop. Gotta put yer back into it if ya want the pay off but it keeps mah mind off all the other fuggen bullshit. Ain't gotta think a the Plane'a Shadow when yer sandin' some oak, don't gotta worry 'bout no necromancers when yer fixin' the squeak on a door. Right now I got me some loose planks right on the steps there that need a good nailin' harder'n a fuggen succubus an' I got some time on my hands. Got fuggen callouses too. Somethin' to be proud'a I tell ya.

WHAP!      WHAP!      WHAP!

Things had gotten easier since he'd had to fight that...thing.
He always had something to hurt people with if he had to. It went through things, too.
Enkidu helped a lot. Fighting with him helping was easier, though it made him more tired.
Things were fairly good.

Dale walked on, scarfing down a protein tube he'd gotten his hands on. Nice as things were, he was so, so hungry right now. He hadn't had much chance to get food.
Chip rode with him on his shoulder as he walked. Now he had Enkidu, he tended to have Chip out more. It made things easier.
There was a sound...another one of the junc-sons. They were hitting things for some reason - not that it mattered to him. No food about.
He kept moving.

Damn. Think I bit off more than I can chew here. So's I can do most'a the repairs meself an' I got all the time in the fuggen world to do'em but I'm only one gob, some things ya gotta have an extra set'a hands fer. Makin' them shelves was easy work, just sawin' boards, nailin'em together but it was a pain in my fuggen ass to get'em up on the wall there when I did it. Had to have Alabastor help me put the sign up an' wouldn't ya know it it's startin' to get crooked. 'Prolly didn't use the right kinda nails in the first place, that's what I get fer doin' the job sloppy in the first place. Fine goblin craftsmanship there, looks like shit, ain't nothin' to be proud'a. Fer fuggen Azmodeus's sake I'm better'n that. Can't be havin' that sign leanin' like it is, if it goes an' falls it's gonna be a sumbitch to get back up there, might break the sign, just a lotta bullshit I ain't wanna deal with. Gonna nip it in the bud.

I suck my teeth a bit, got my hands on my hips lookin' up at that fugly piece'a shit mockin' me fer doing a shit job the first go 'round. Nah, I ain't wanna ask the crew fer help, they help me the first time. Fuggen insultin' to ask'em again. Gotta do this on my lonesome, but ain't mean I gotta do it by myself if'n ya understand. Just means it's gonna cost me somethin', shit in this life ain't free ya know. So I see's one'a them scraggly motherfuckers wanderin' 'round lookin' lost. Prolly a beggar. Well it's his fuggen lucky day right there, got some work fer'im, how 'bout that shit?
"Hey pal!" I yell at'im there, "How'd ya like to make some coin fer some honest day's work!?" Hopin' I can get this jagoff to just agree with it, don't wanna hire no professionals here. Fer one I know what the fuck I'm doin' an' I ain't need no experts tellin' me I'm doin' shit wrong, fer another s'gonna break my coin purse there. I ain't sinkin' a damn bit'a gold into this here crap shack, silver'er lower. Shit shack ain't fuggen worth spendin' money on if I can do it my damn self there.

Dale's head whipped around as the sound of Grubby's voice reached him, suddenly on alert. As much as he'd been hoping he could just keep going and he wouldn't be noticed, the junc-son was actually paying attention to him.
...and they wanted something from him, too.
That had never, ever been good.
The mistrust is clear and explicit in Dale's eyes, and his posture does more than enough to telegraph that he's prepared to fight or run as his need dictates. On his shoulder, the little robotic dog that he cared for so much is similarly focused on Grubby, the lights on Chip's display that made up his eyes holding the faint shadow of a more inhuman gaze behind it. "...what do you mean?"

Ain't gonna lie, ain't surprised that he's skittish there. Not everyday that someone just calls yer ass off the street offerin' some coin fer a job well done. Well, depends on where ya are, could be every day'n just a scam but that ain't what I'm doin'. Gonna pay'im an honest wage fer some honest work there, fair'n square. Looks enough like a hobo, figure he'd 'preciate some'a that. An' I get my work done, everyone's a fuggen winner. I drop my hammer back in my belt an' stand up, groanin' an' clutchin' my damn back. Been on my knees longer'n a city elf, kehehe. I'm horsin' around but seriously holy shit I'm gettin' too damn old. Gotta retire one'a these days. I take a few steps toward'im.

"Talkin' 'bout payin' ya fer doin' a 'lil job fer me. Need me some more hands to help fixin' up this crap shack, I got some money an' I got shit to barter. What's it worth to ya?" S'pose I can let go'a some of my tools fer helpin' with this job here, ain't like I can't get my hands on more. Fuggit, jagoff can do it fer store credit if'n he wants, I just wanna take care'a this shit while I got a day off from runnin' around fightin' damn monsters.

"...'crap shack'? 'Barter'? 'Shit'?" That was definitely an unfamiliar set of words...
From what he could guess though, they were offering him things for doing things for them. Fixing something...this...'crap shack', whatever one of those was.
It wasn't a trick he'd found before, but all sorts of the stuff here had been new to him. It seemed like there would be new tricks too.
He had something he didn't before, though. Two, actually.
Dale and Chip looked each other in the eye. "Enkidu...?"
"Okay."

Chip hops down from Dale's shoulder to the ground as the clueless android takes a moment to really consider things. "You're saying you'll give me money for this?" He wasn't expecting it, but...he needed some for food. "Do you have..."
He lists his price.
It was about how much 5 protein tubes would cost, as he remembered.

Ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer there but a gob learns to work with what he's got. Can't be expectin' no bums to be ready to take any ol' job now, some of'em is bums fer good reason. Sometimes they's just lazy motherfuckers, sometimes a guy's down on his luck. Then other times ya got the ones that're touched in the noggin an' don't know no better. Yeah this jagoff looks like one'a those. Poor bastard. Figure I should give'em some help there but I ain't no charity an' I don't give shit out fer free now. If'n he wants to change his situation there he's gonna have to work his knuckles to the bone like the rest'a us.
"That's right there, I'm barterin' shit fer fixin' mah crap shack," I says, hookin' a thumb over my shoulder at that dump I call a shop. S'gonna be somethin' good someday. Today sure as the Nine Hells ain't that day fer damn sure.

Don't know why in the fug'e's talkin' to his... clockwork dog there. This place is a fuggen carnival I tells ya. Nothin' but freak shows. Figure his melon's a 'lil soft there but beggars can't be choosers. Speakin' a which he's drivin' a hard bargain there. It ain't much, ain't much at all but fer work like this ya ain't pay much neither. Lift a couple'a things fer a few hours getcha a copper're two. I ain't made'a money now but guessin' if I was to go get hired help it'd cost me more. Hopin' I can get'im to take me up on the barter. I got some nice stuff there, good stuff fer this kinda work. Work fer work, that's a good deal right there.
"S'posin' I am an' s'posin' I do," I says, noddin' my head there, "Or I got shit that's just as worthwhile. S'posin' we can come to an agreement there. 'Fore we settle on things figure ya should be lookin' at the work yer gonna be doin' 'fore ya start, decide if'n it's worth yer time. Gonna keep this on the level, s'bad fer business to shortsell ya, understand?" I turn 'round and start walkin' real slow-like back to my shop. Couple'a things I got fer him to do but I'm thinkin' a startin' with them there shelves. It's a bitch an' a half to hang'em all by yer lonesome, twice as bad if yer short like I is.
"Ya comin', jagoff? Ya wanna earn some money're not?"

That was not a helpful answer. That was a desperately confusing answer for Dale. He'd guess the thing the junc-son was gesturing to was the 'crap shack', because that definitely was something that looked broken bad, but otherwise he had no idea what they were on about.
It wasn't hard to guess, either.

And if that was bad enough, Dale was just about baffled by everything they said afterward. About the only thing he could gather was that he wanted him to look at something, and...see how much time it was worth...?
Could this thing take time?
Was he wanting to figure out what he could sell to buy more time?
Why would you buy time, though? Time was time. It was just there. You couldn't do anything with it.
...U-unless...

Slightly panicked, Dale nods and follows. Chip follows after, keeping a close eye on the pair.
He was shooting if he saw anything like what he saw before he left.

He follows me just fine there. Looks more skittish'n a dryad holdin' a fuggen torch but I guess he'll be willin' to work. Walk inside my shop, bell rings like it always do. S'fuggen dump like always but it's my dump so I take a likin' to it. Smells like musty ol' wood an' tobacca smoke, none'a the planks match an' everythin' looks cobbled together cuz it fuggen is. Did it myself there, ya gotta work with what ya got an' I'm workin' with scraps here. Can't always be havin' no pretty shop but I do what I can about it. On the floor I got me some shelves I built this mornin', the ain't got none'a the rounded off edges like what looks pretty but they're strong I tells ya. Could probably park three'a me up on them shelves. But they're fuggen heavy too, an' long an' I'm a short motherfucker. Can't reach up that high.

I walk back behind the counter I got set up to get me a stool so's I can reach.
"Ya see these shelves here? Gonna need help hangin'em on the wall, too fuggen short to do it meself 'less I wanna build some fuggen stands to hold'em fer me while I do the job but that's more trouble'n it's fuggen worth. Fer now I'm gonna need ya..." I trail off as I look fer a good spot. I look over at the scruffy guy just to get an eye on things. Wanna get this at about chest height there, draw yer gaze real good. But I can't imagine the height'a what a pinky would start lookin', know it's fuggen taller'n me but that's it. Figure about... right fuggen there. I pull some chalk outta my satchel an' make a mark on the wall.
"...yeah...yeah that'll do'er. Gonna need ya to pick up one'a them shelves an' hold it about yey so's I can nail it to the wall. Flat as ya can, now." I step down off the stool an' put it outta the way but not too far. Gonna need it soon. Fuggen sucks bein' short I tell ya. Them tall ass humans ain't know how lucky they got it.

The level of relief that rushed over Dale as he saw the battered, sorry excuse for a place that Grubby called his store was immense. This looked nothing like what he was afraid of seeing. It was, in fact, the furthest possible thing from it.
His head jerks at the sound of the bell, only to note the sound was simply a harmless object making noise as they walked in rather than something actually dangerous.
...that actually gave him an idea. He just needed some of that string stuff. Or...something else that'd work.

He watches Grubby at work, finding he was making far more sense at the moment. Why not just say this in the first place?
...actually, no, wouldn't make sense without being able to see where everything was going.
Still.

Chip finds somewhere to hop up for a better view as Dale gets to work. Not that that was hard, in this place - there was plenty enough to bounce between.
He holds the shelf level against the chalk mark, and...
...the wall wasn't flat. He feel the shelf pivoting on part of the wall.
He tries to adjust, but it felt like it was somewhere close to the middle that it was pivoting...and the thing was meant to go there.
Taking a moment to see which part of the wall was causing the problem, he lays the shelf against that part, and carefully presses in with it so the bit of the wall would hopefully go in to get it flat.
Somehow, he kept the shelf level the whole time.

Scruffy looks willin' to work there work there. Quiet too. An' people think bums ain't willin' to do nothin' fer a copper, s'the beggars ya gotta watch out fer. You offer a beggar a job'n he'll turn tail'n come up with excuses but a man with some gumption'll take ya up on yer offer quicker'n greased shit an' be happy fer the privilege. Can't say I never been on that side'a the fence bein' a thief'n all but I try to be honest nowadays, ain't robbed someone with a knife in the back in Azmodeus knows how fuggen long. Ain't never had no golem dog that's fer damn sure. I get my stool an' put some nails 'tween my teeth, get ready to hammer'em in there but I notice somethin'.

"Hey hey hey yer bendin' my damn shelf, jagoff!" I says, raise my voice a 'lil "Took me a damn good bit'a time buildin' that fuggen thing, get that thing up off the wall!" S'fuggen true I tells ya, ya get what ya pay fer an' I ain't payin' a whole lot. I get to lookin' at the wall there. S'got a bend in the damn wood. Now ain't that fuggen swell, can't put my shelf there no more. This a chin scratcher here, I furrow my brow thinkin' 'bout where else I can put it. Aw I'll think'a somethin', in the meantime this asshole's a 'lil slow so's I'm thinkin' I should tell'im I ain't mad 'lessin' he breaks my shit.
"If it ain't goin' ya can't force it, yer gonna make it break there. Can't hold my fuggen knick knacks up there if'n I got me a broken shelf, just gotta move it someplace else... hrrmmm... lessee here..."

Don't rightly know where I want this damn thing now. Thinkin' I gotta move it over, but then it won't fit. Can't put it lower'n risk knocking shit off with the wall leanin', can't move it too high. Fuggen conundrum here. Gonna have to cut the damn thing short.... 'less I can... ah, fuggen know what I'm gonna do now! I eyeball the shelf, look at the wall. Few inches oughta do'er.
"Put that thing down fer a second there, got somethin' I wanna do." If'n he puts it down gonna wander back behind the counter there an' get me a saw. Gonna cut a good round piece off, a couple inches off the back there.
"Aright, now hold'er up. Gonna have to fix the damn thing. Who'd a thunk the damn wall'd be slopin' on me? Not lookin' to put up a whole new wall on my damn day off, I'll let it rot some 'til I gotta replace the wood on it. Now hold'er steady, just don't bend the damn thing. Lemme know if'n ya gotta put it down, aright? Gonna be holdin' it there fer a good bit."

Dale stops pushing suddenly as Grubby yells for him to stop, and Chip fixes hostile eyes onto Grubby. Not that he knew what a 'jagoff' was...but it was obvious he meant him, and that it wasn't a good word. You didn't have to necessarily know what a word meant as long as you recognised the tone.
He pulls the shelf away quickly and sharply, moving it easily into one hand in such a manner that it wouldn't be hard to swing it from there. He doesn't actually make a move to do so...but the possibility is there.
The sharp gaze from Chip and the tension in Dale eases off with the explanation, the dog's display reverting to it's old artificial eyes once more, but Grubby would find himself watched slightly more closely by the canid robot. Dale just nods, putting the shelf down when directed and watching curiously to see what Grubby was doing, when his eyes weren't flicking around to try and take in each detail of his surroundings.

Dale's eyes flick to the saw as Grubby returns with it, but it's quickly dismissed as being...too dangerous. You could hurt someone with it if you wanted, but it probably wasn't the most practical thing for it. Besides...that thing was not in the best condition by his eye. Still usable, but not for anything like that.
"Day off...?" Was this like that getting time thing?
...not important right now, but maybe later.
Once more, at Grubby's instruction, Dale holds up the shelf, keeping the length of wood impossibly still in his hands.

As he holds the thing I get me that chunk'a wood I sawed off an' put a couple'a nails under it to hold it up. I start nailin' it again. Pressure keeps that piece'a wood in place, ya understand? I stop once're twice to sand it down to a good size but it fits like a fuggen glove after that. An' this jagoff keeps it level the whole damn time. Say whatcha want about them drifters, but ya find one with a good work ethic an' he's better'n all the carpenters in the world.


We get through a few more shelves, get'em all mounted there, just gotta put my stock on'em an' I can do that my damn self. But I'm fuggen pooped I tell ya, ain't as young as I used to be. Hard labor takes a lot outta an old man like me.
"Did some good work what needs doin' there, but I figure s'high time we take a damn break, dontcha say? Feelin' my gut yellin' at me fer some grub there." I light my pipe with a flick of a tinder twig an' go to the back. I got a pot'a stew been cookin' all day to keep it from goin' bad on me, s'good stuff. Well it ain't good stuff but it gets the job done. S'got wild mushrooms innit an' a 'lil bit a beef stock, even went plum crazy there an' sprung fer the green onions. Now it ain't the best but it'll keep yer belly full an' it ain't taste half bad. I take a sip just to make sure it ain't off, good shit right there.

I bring out a couple'a bowls with my pipe hangin' outta my mouth, carved'em meself outta a block a wood. Now I tell ya, whittlin' does a man good. Gives'im time to think, somethin' to do with yer hands there, an' ya get somethin' ya can hold in the end. Even carved the spoons meself, I love me some whittlin' I tell ya.
"Here ya go, longshanks, figured you earned it. S'got mushrooms innit, s'good eatin'. Got me some bread fer dippin' too, figure I could share half a loaf with ya," I says. I'm still puffin' on my pipe as I sit down to eat. Ain't got not fancy tables but it ain't like I never ate on the ground before. I grunt as a lower meself down to a sit, killer on the ol' back but what can ya do? Take me some bread an' dip it in there. S'crunchy, stale, but the good kinda crunchy like how it's s'posed to be. This the kinda bread that'll last a year. But I ain't wanna eat in silence, when ya eat with people s'always good to strike up a conversation. Might be the only time y'ever talk.
"So what's yer name there, Homeless Joe? What's yer story?" I says, "Ya got a damn good work ethic on ya, figure yer not like the other bums ya see loafin' around shakin' their damn cups."

Throughout the process, Dale observes each little detail of what's happening. Terribly complex the process is not, but it's something he's unfamiliar with. That alone makes it worth figuring out to him.
You never know what you'll need.


At first, Dale shows a lack of recognition as to what Grubby might be talking about. For the time being, he remains as he is, noting the tinder twig and the pipe as they are used and lit. He didn't really see the point in the pipe, but the tinder twig catches his eye. Those could be useful.
He'd have to see if he could find some.
Chip continues to watch Grubby even as he goes into the back, wary for anything worth alarm. As he heads back with the bowls, the dog-bot returns to his prior spot to continue his watch. Dale just remains confused...until he spots the bowls of stew.
...ah. Grub meant food. That made sense.
Come to think...did he have a proper gut? He didn't think so. If they yelled when you were hungry, then he probably didn't - he'd not heard any part of him yelling when he was hungry before. Honestly, that sounded kind of bad. It would make hiding a lot harder if part of him yelled when he was hungry.

As much as the prospect of food delighted him, as far as he was concerned, not paying attention just because there was food offered was very, very, bad. Especially when someone was giving him it. That was basically always a bad sign. He rapidly scans around him, on edge for the merest hint of something wrong.
...but nothing's there.
For now, he goes along with it. Take what he's offered, sit himself down...wonder what on earth the spoon was and what it was for...that sort of thing. Used to be harder to defend himself while he was sitting, and really it still wasn't the best, but he could have himself up with a spring and a kick if he needed to. Most people weren't really able to deal with that well.
There was Enkidu, too...having a big, strong, clay man you could make appear when you wanted really helped with staying safe.

With a little surprise and an emphatic nod, he takes the offered bread and copies what he's seeing.
It was...nice. It was no shining standard of food, for certain. Indeed, it was something that many people would not have been terribly impressed with. For Dale though, it was one of the best things he'd ever had the fortune to eat.
Most people don't toss out stew...or bread without mold on it, for that matter. You took what you could get, regardless of taste or rot.
Being picky was not a survival trait.
As Grubby speaks up, Dale briefly halts his process of scarfing down food at a prodigious rate. "Dale...not...'Homeless Joe'." A name was easy enough to give. Most of the time, there was no problem in doing so either. The other thing was harder...Dale wasn't sure what he wanted to know, let alone whether he should tell him. He hoped he didn't accidentally tell him what it was when he shouldn't have.
Some of the rest flew over his head, but he at least had enough to reply from. He'd seen those people about. "I don't know why those people do that...it takes a long time, and you normally don't get anything. Better just to go get stuff." Memory flashes across Dale's eyes as he recalls something. "They're lucky they can do that safely. Doing that before I got here would have just got me hurt. Stuff taken. Always. What happens when you get people to pay attention to you. Never good."

That's some good eatin' there, really hits the spot. It ain't no leg'a boar're scalloped taters but it does the trick. Best thing ya learn when yer the workin' poor's hunger's the best spice an' ain't nothin' make a hot bowl a stew taste better than a hard day's labor. Don't know how them rich folks do it meself, eatin' without workin', if anythin' I'd get fuggen bored to death but I 'spose they ain't gotta worry 'bout bein' hungry so's they get to focus on the flavor'n that kinda shit. Privileged sacks a shit, don't care if a sack a shit smells like fresh cut roses'n looks pleasin', it's still a sack a greaseball shit on the inside. Homeless Joe over there knows, or Dale I 'spose.

I listen as I eat but I take my time on it. S'my gat dayum day off, I'll take my damn time if'n I fuggen wanna. But I listen'n nod a bit. Ain't gonna lie he sounds like a thief, an' a fuggen bad one. World's gone to shit these days. Ya got muggers goin' 'round callin' themselves thiefs, killers thinks they's rogues, an' thugs liken to burglars. The fug'appened? Used to be pride in this line'a work, used to take some skill an' years to perfect it. Now any old asshole walks up, beats a man bloody, takes his shit and reckons he's a fuggen thief! Cryin' damn shame there. Back in the good ol' days ya didn't just go straight fer the blackjack, ya picked a pocket, sometimes while talkin' to the dumb motherfucker, then ya walked away hands clean! None'a this violent bullshit. Ain't no such thing as famous thieves, just fuggen bad ones. I take a bite a bread an' puff on my pipe a bit.
"*tzzzzzzzzzzz...pheeeeewwww...* ...better to go'n git stuff til the guard gets sick'a yer shit'n throws ya ass up in the slammer. Or ya steal from the wrong jagoff an' he puts a sword through ya. Stealin' takes risk there, sooner're later yer luck's gonna run out, always does, an' if ya ain't smart about it it runs out quicker. Ya understand?"

Frankly I ain't care who this longshanks steals from, long as it ain't me. That's a quick way to the graveyard I'll fuggen tell ya, ya don't fuggen steal from a thief if ya value anythin' ya hold dear. But I'm gonna be damned if he runs 'round callin' hisself a thief an' he ain't even earn the title. Used to be honor among thieves til the world went to shit. I blame this new damn generation what's gotta have their shit right fuggen now. An' gnomes. Fuggen gnomes.
"Just gotta be sure they know the score there. Y'always get somethin' from workin', them's words to live by. Ya make something yerself? Ya did work, an' ya got what ya made. Made these shelves here, see what I mean? But if'n yer workin' fer someone else ya gotta let'em know the score. Ya say 'hey jagoff, if I'm gonna be workin' fer ya I want this much' an' you make damn sure ya get what ya agreed on. S'gonna be people out there that think they's smarter'n ya an' want ya to work fer free but as long as ya stand yer ground they can't do that." Puff off my pipe a bit more there, take a sip'a soup. Now I ain't no people goblin but I like to wag my old man's tongue a bit. S'nice sometimes to tell it like it is.
"...Phaaaah, s'good shit right there. ...Ain't no shame in a day's hard work, means ya earned it. I know someplaces it ain't pay to do the honest thing an' pal, I came from those places. But somethin's gotta come from somewhere's an' it come from the hard workin' folk most the time. They's just tryin' to get by like the rest'a us, but they's doin' the honest thing an' not causin' trouble fer no one. Ya gotta respect that if'n yer gonna go thievin'." I toss the rest a my bread'n the bowl a stew, gonna let it soak up the broth'n eat it that way. Gives me more time to smoke while we shoot the shit. Hopin' this bum don't think givin'im opportunities means I got valuable shit he can steal, swear to Azmodeus if'n I catch'im rummagin' around in my store I'll cut his gods damned head off.