Jack Of All Trades ✓ | steampunk, dragons, trickery

Chapter 1.3: A Proposal

The girl was picking at a thread coming out of her glove. "So, you really are a Jack of all trades?"

He gave her a smug smile and leaned back in his chair. "I've told you. So, tell me, what are you?"

She locked him in a glare. "Humble."

He chuckled. She was good. She had some good personality going for her. "Smart. Well?"

"I am usually just an aeronaut's assistant. But I didn't come for aeronaut business. It is about your cursed gift, Jack."

Jack scoffed. "I don't remember becoming first-name-basis with you, miss."

"Eli."

"Eli. So, what is Eli?"

Eli leaned forward and beckoned to him. Jack sighed and gave her his ear into which she whispered, "A Seeker."

He scoffed. Seekers were men and women of the old tales who had a sixth sense that could help them find otherworldly or supernatural things. They were said to have been prosecuted, rumored to have been burned on the cross, whispered to be immortal, told to have had magical powers, and all sorts of 'likely' tales. Artists made art out of them all the time, but they were just fantastical tales.

The only tale Jack believed was the tale of his cursed gift. His mother found an old book of magick and curses and picked a spell at random in her fury. Then Jack was given a 'gift'. Unintentionally, of course. And it just enhanced a part of his brain, he believed. Every human could develop this skill of hearing the thoughts of others. It had been studied, too.

If there was a way to develop it, he believed doctors could help him undevelop it. If only they could find out exactly where in his brain this enhancement was. Then he would stop having these migraines, too.

"So, I heard of your story. I can help you find the remedy to lift your curse, that is, the power of a dragon. I can help you the best because I am a special Seeker. A Dragon Seeker."

Now this was a true loony. "So, I'm supposed to believe you have a sixth sense to find the supernatural dragon?"

"Yes."

"Dung."

"Excuse me?" She arched her brow.

Jack sat up in the chair and shuffled in his pockets for coins.

"That's just some goat dung. I came here to find a way to lift my migraine, not to be catfished by some lassie who will just milk me of my money pretending to take me on some life-changing adventure to find a cure for this curse." Jack stood, laid down the coins for his cappuccino, and left without looking back. There were those kinds of people sometimes that would try to get your money by tapping into some vulnerable or sensitive part of you.

Jack knew those kinds of people very well because he was one of them. His gallery, for instance, a place for new success among artists, for sure, but to only milk the pockets of the costumers until only flies and cobwebs occupied their wallets. Maybe it wasn't honest business, but it made money.

Business is never honest. Jack fitted his goggles over his eyes. The world went from hazy gray to hazy yellow. He strolled off down to the station when he heard hasty footsteps behind him. Jack knew today was going to end up being horrendous no matter what he did.

Eli came to his right side. "Do it," she said.

"Do what?"

"Your thing."

"What thing?"

She huffed as he chuckled. "Touch my arm and you'll see."

Jack brushed his hand against her left arm. "So, what will I—"