I hunger, mortal.
"Yes, I know. You haven't stopped telling me."
Because I hunger.
The streets of Waggenrook normally calmed me when I strode through them, my black cloak flapping behind me. I enjoyed walking. Walking was a peaceful thing. You don't need to have a destination in mind. Just put your feet one in front of the other and keep moving.
On a beautiful sunny day, it's even better.
Some like to walk through the countryside, rambling up and down hills and alongside bubbling streams.
But I prefer the city.
The cobblestone street beneath my feet. The cling clang of bells and chimes meant to grab my attention. The flip flap of other people's feet. Even the clip clop of horses as wagons clattered past.
There was a frenzied race to survive happening around me, and I was breezing through it with no care in the world.
But not today.
Today, a dark cloud hovered over my head. It left me scowling as I zipped down laneways and through some of the most wretched parts of the city.
Finally, I stopped outside a small bakery.
It was a miserable looking place with a rickety old door whose hinges screamed as I pushed it open. The pies looked cold and wet.
The bread stacked in dirty shelves along the wall looked like hard crusty knobs of mismatched shapes and sizes. If there were any buns there, I couldn't see them.
A couple of biscuits were in a tin on the counter. The biscuits looked dry and crumbly.
The tin was battered and old. Spots of rust dripped from the rim.
Beside the tin was a little copper cup painted crudely with bright yellow paint. Small runes edged the lip. It was full of toothpicks.
Everything was overpriced.
By a lot.
Honestly, it wasn't the sort of place a gentleman should be shopping in.
A sour-faced man, thin and with squinty eyes, crept out from the back to peer at me over the counter. "What'cha want?"
"I was hoping for a croissant," I said. "It's for my cat."
The thin man looked down at Noodle, who had plonked himself down by my foot. "Funny lookin' moggy you got there," he said, frowning. "What's with its eyes?"
"That's the fire of the void," I told him. "Try not to think about it. It will only give you a headache. Now. About my croissants?"
The thin man's gaze lifted and he scratched his head.
"Umm," he said, pushing the biscuit tin towards me. "Take your pick."
I glanced at the biscuits.
Then back at him.
Mortal, I hunger.
I carefully took one of the biscuits from the tin and set it on the counter.
"I would also like to purchase a muffin," I said. "Chocolate chip if you have it."
"I don't."
"Blueberry?"
He shook his head. "Nuh-uh."
"What do you have?"
"Bread," he sneered, pointing his thumb at the shelf behind him. "It's a bakery, innit?"
"But you also have pies," I said. "So, it'd be sensible to assume you do more than just bread."
"Pies and bread, then," he said. "And those cross things."
"Croissants?"
"Yeah. Cross ants."
"Is your manager here?"
"What'cha mean? It's my place," he growled. "Look. If all you wanna do is complain, hit the street. Plenty of bakeries around here. Go bother someone else."
"So, you are the manager?" I gave him a look which I hoped conveyed my utter disbelief. "You? You who don't even know what a croissant is? You are in charge of this breadery?"
He thumped his hands on the counter. "We also do pies!"
"I would not call those soggy things pies," I countered. "Look at them! The filling is oozing out! And that's mold. Mold on the pastry! I would not feed this trash to a pig, let along my cat!"
His eyes flicked to the pie and he clicked his tongue. "That's not mold. That's… herbs."
"Herbs?"
"Right."
"It's growing."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
Mortal, I hunger.
"It is MOLD!" I roared, jabbing a finger at him. "Now, summon the manager immediately! I wish to express my discontent!"
"I'm telling you, you stuck-up swine," he shouted back, waving his thin little fist under my nose. "I am the bloody manager! And, as the bloody manager, I'm telling you to get out of my shop before I call the constables to drag you out!"
"Call them," I hissed. "Call them, so I can show them the mold you're selling to children. Little children! You are responsible for ensuring not just freshness, but also the quality of your goods! Are you such a mook that you would happily deliver this sort of trash into the hands of a vulnerable child? Knowing it will likely kill them? Yes, I think we shall call the constables. Call them. Come along. Call them! Perhaps I should do it for you?"
"Now now," he blinked, edging back from the counter. He raised his hands passively. "Maybe we should both calm down a bit, eh? No need to let it get too heated in here…"
"This is a bakery!" I cried. "But it's cold in here!"
"Look-"
"No," I said. "You look. All I wanted was a croissant, and a muffin. A croissant for my cat, and a muffin for me. Was that so hard to achieve? Look. Now you've gone and made me all grumpy."
"Well, I don't have them! Just look around, will you? Pick a loaf of bread. Any loaf. You can have it for free if you'll just leave!"
"Free?"
"Yes!"
"Hmm."
"Pick one."
I squinted at the wall.
"They don't look particularly fresh."
"They were baked last night!"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm bloody sure!"
I stepped closer to the counter, my eyes squinting harder. I pointed.
"Maybe that one."
He grabbed the loaf and thrust it out towards me.
I glanced down at it in his grubby hand.
Then back up at him.
"Aren't you going to put it in a paper bag?"
With a huff, he swept back to the counter and started rummaging around. He was being very noisy about it, too. Honestly, I don't know where Customer Service went these days, but it certainly couldn't be found in any shops I'd been going to.
Noodle let out a sigh.
I am very hungry, mortal.
There's a certain smell in every bakery. A mix of dough, warm crust, and a hint of fruity spice. This one smelled nothing like that.
So, while my void cat was busy thinking about his empty stomach, I was feeling somewhat disappointed.
I mean, there weren't even any jelly slices!
Or custard scrolls!
I reached for a toothpick.
And knocked the little cup over. It rolled off the counter and onto the floor with a clank before rolling against my feet.
Noodle looked at it once, gave it a quick swipe with a paw and lost interest.
He was like that with all toys unless there was some catnip in it.
I picked up the little cup, looking around at all the toothpicks scattered everywhere. "Oh," I said, turning to find the thin man scowling at me. "I seem to have spilled the toothpicks."
"Just leave," he snapped, shoving the bread at me, now hastily stuck in a bag. "Get out!"
I took the bread, frowning. "If I come back in five minutes and find those toothpicks back in this cup, I'm going to be very disappointed."
"You'll be more than disappointed," he snarled, holding up his fist.
I think that was a threat.
It felt like one.
I spun the cup in my fingers. It felt quite light. And fragile.
"That's a very mookish thing to say," I told him. "And I don't much care for it, if I'm honest."
Mortal…
The baker reached under the counter. His eyes were glittering with fury. Slowly, he pulled out a cleaver. The kind that belongs in a butcher shop. Not a bakery.
"I asked you to leave," he said slowly. "Now, you give me that back and get out."
"This?" I held up the cup. "You want this ugly thing?"
"Put it back on my counter. And get out."
"And if I don't?"
His lips curled into a very uncouth-looking smirk. "Then I'll have you inside a few pies by lunch time."
I pursed my lips as I flicked my gaze towards his selection of rancid-looking pies. "I think I care for that a lot less."
I looked down at Noodle.
Noodle looked up at me.
I dropped the cup.
As it fell, the baker's eyes widened with hate. He let out a long roar.
I lifted my foot.
And, as the cup hit the floor, my foot stamped down on top of it.
I'd been right.
It was indeed very fragile.
It shattered with a loud crack, sending sparks flying under my foot.
"You!" The baker snarled. "You'll pay for that!"
"After seeing your food," I hissed as he threw himself over the counter. "I wouldn't pay for anything in here!"
The cleaver whistled as it swept towards my face.
Then an explosion of black blasted up from the ground to meet him. He managed to squirt out a single high-pitched squeal.
But no one gets more than that when Noodle is hungry.