Two weeks later
Your POV
It was odd, any time you had slept with a woman, you awoke to her gone and Todd acting a touch suspicious. You were starting to figure he had caught on to your acts and was chasing them out. This was further amplified by many of the woman now resisting joining you, saying they do not trust the barber you bunk with. While you do trust him, others didn't, and you respected that.
The morning air was still heavy with the scent of baked crusts and sweet spices as you sat in the pie shop, a soft glow from the rising sun filtering through the grimy windows. It was early—too early for most folk—but the world inside the shop was already alive in its peculiar way. Down in the cellar, Lovette worked tirelessly, her humming faint but audible as she prepared her pies. Upstairs, Todd was likely sprawled out, catching what little sleep he could manage. And here you were, seated at the battered wooden table, sharing a quiet drink with Tobias.
The boy sat across from you, his small frame hunched slightly over the table as he stirred his black tea and gin. You had come to genuinely like Tobias. There was something earnest about him, something that reminded you of simpler times. While he rarely trusted Todd and often avoided the barber’s sharp gaze, he had taken an undeniable liking to you.
Your feelings toward Lovette were complicated. You admired her determination and her unwavering energy, but she often seemed to forget that Tobias was, at the end of the day, still just a child. He worked far harder than any boy his age should, often to the point of exhaustion. Many nights, you found him nodding off mid-task or stumbling to his cot, too weary to even pull off his boots. Those were the times you made a point to step in, guiding him upstairs for a reprieve. The two of you would sit together, sharing a quiet drink—though you always watered down his gin—and playing games or spinning tales from your days in the navy. Tobias seemed to cherish those moments, his tired eyes lighting up as you recounted your adventures on the high seas.
It was because of those moments that you’d decided to make him a small gift. Out at sea, you’d once saved a young girl from a wrecked ship. She had been grateful beyond words and had passed the long journey back to port teaching you how to craft toys from scraps of wool and cloth. The memory of her ingenuity had stayed with you, and now, you’d put those skills to use. The result was a small, sewn shark—a humble token, but one you hoped Tobias might appreciate.
The boy was sipping his tea when you finally spoke. "Toby?" you said, your voice gentle, breaking the comfortable silence between you.
He looked up at you, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. "Yes, sir?" he replied, his voice groggy but warm. He reached for the gin bottle, pouring another splash into his tea.
You reached over with a small chuckle, gently pulling the bottle away before he could overdo it. “Let’s not have you too hammered before work, lad,” you teased lightly. He grinned sheepishly, taking a careful sip of his drink.
Clearing your throat, you leaned back in your chair, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “I’ve been wanting to make something for you,” you began, your tone soft but earnest. “You’re a wonderful lad, Tobias. You deserve something of your own.”
Reaching into your coat pocket, you pulled out the little cloth shark, setting it carefully on the table in front of him. It wasn’t perfect—its stitches were a little uneven, and its button eyes were mismatched—but it had been made with care. “I’m not sure how much you fancy sharks,” you said with a small smile, “but I remember I liked them quite a bit when I was your age. Thought you might, too.”
Tobias stared at the shark, his wide eyes flickering between you and the toy. Slowly, his fingers reached out to touch it, tracing the seams as though he couldn’t quite believe it was real. “You made this… for me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, a touch of nervousness creeping into your voice. “Yes. I wanted you to have something—something to remind you there’s more to life than work, eh?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, his face broke into a radiant smile, one so genuine it seemed to chase away the shadows of the shop. “Ah gee! Coo’! Thank you sir! Thank you kindly! You're a real Christian indeed!”
“Thank you, son. I'm glad you like it.” You ruffle his hair and plant a small kiss on his forehead. You really had started to see the kid as something akin to family, and you hope that you are something of the same for him.
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𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚢 (𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚃𝚘𝚍𝚍 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)
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