South London Forever // George Karim

-job interviews and embroidered bones-

"Do you think I need a resume?" Freddie asked around the gingernut biscuit in her mouth. She finished tying her boots up, and took the cup of tea Lockwood slid into her hand. It smelt like Chamomile.

"I don't need chamomile," she reminded him, taking a sip that burnt her tongue. "I'm not stressed about this."

"Don't bother making one, just show up and tell them who you are." Lockwood advised. There was the sound of a drawer opening and shutting, then he moved behind her and began parting her shoulder length hair.

Freddie sighed. "I'm rolling my eyes at you, by the way."

"I'm sure you are."

"It would be cheating, Ant," she said. "I don't cheat."

"Game night tells me otherwise." Lockwood said, and started tying her hair into two pigtails. The word 'pigtails' made it sound like she had long locks of brown hair tied up with ribbons, when in fact they were small and spiky looking. "And you deserve some perks, aside from not having to see Kipp's face."

"People'll start cutting their own eyes out if it gets them a spot at Fittes." Freddie sighed, and sipped her tea.

Lockwood patted her shoulder and she listened to the drawer groan again as he put the hairbrush and black ties back. She stood up, pushing her chair in. "Remind we why we keep those in the cutlery drawer?"

"Remind me why we keep that kettle?" Lockwood asked her. She stuck her tongue out in his general direction.

"Sentimental value," Freddie said, and grabbed her coat off the rack. It was made out of a different sort of material to Lockwood's, which made it easy to tell the difference. His flapped around dramatically as he walked, and hers was heavy and long, like a weighted blanket, only made heavier by the pockets filled with supplies.

She turned around with a smirk, popping her collar up. "Same reason I keep you."

The concrete path was littered with puddles Freddie had resigned herself to sloshing through. The days of sunshine on her face and dry boots were hard to find in London, which meant she used her umbrella more than her rapier. The blade was hanging by her side, attached to the belt that held up her suit pants. She always wore the suits Lockwood had got them when DEPRAC approved their application to start an official agency.

It made getting dressed in the morning a lot easier when she only wore pants and a matching tie-on top of the button-up that she had to scrub coffee stains out of on the daily. But, she had her own coat, the big one Lockwood said was dark green, with a few patches sewn in. There was an embroidered chain of bones on the cuffs, like bracelets. It was a hand-me-down, a present from an old friend. There was a neatly tied up chainmail net to subdue Sources in the biggest pocket, salt bombs, a few coins from the savings jar, the small notebook with pressed flowers, and sprigs of lavender pinned to her collar.

Lockwood said wearing it made her look like a fairy. Or a witch, depending on how grumpy he was.

Freddie pulled the trench coat around her tighter, the cold wind biting into her bones and making a home that would have her sitting in front of the fire that night. She turned as a car honked at the other end of the street, and reached out for the ghost lamp next to her. The cab pulled up a moment later.

"Ay Freddie, where we off to today love?"

She tottered over the gutter and into the passenger seat of Ernie's taxi, which pulled away into the quite street once she buckled up. "Fittes, please. I'm applying for a spot there first, then I'll try Rotwell."