Of Snakes and Giants

[Nathaniel Blackwood]

“Poor!?” now this was a step too far.
“A mistake!?” another far step in a very wrong direction.
Nathaniel felt the fire inside of him burn anew. Only a miracle of an unknown nature stopped him from hitting the table with his fist.
“You are insulting years of my family’s work now, too? You think we are not worthy — or capable! — of providing one standard, no-frills funeral to some miserly lying w…” Nathaniel stopped abruptly and took a deep breath.

This was all very bad. He could bear personal insults, but not attacks on the quality of their business from an insolent youngster.
Another deep breath. Closed shutters or not, this was not a safe space to have a fight.
“Your darling, your poor Mrs Whittlock can be indecent anywhere she wants: her sister-in-law’s sitting room, middle of the street, church’s yard — this is not of my concern. My concern is — or was, I’m guessing, the way she behaved this way with you. But— ”
Nathaniel stood up from his chair yet again.
“You have clearly known her better and far longer than you’ve known me, and your values lie in a different realm of existence. But at least wait until her late husband is buried — to make things less ugly.”
His thoughts promptly reminded him that he wouldn’t have been so patient either, but Nathan quickly pushed them away.

He tried to grab his hat but quickly rediscovered that it was heavily guarded with Papa Legba’s enormous asset.
“Excuse me,” he said with genuine and due regard, and only then took it off his hat to place it on the table, then grabbed the garment to put it on his head immediately after.
“I am sorry I wasted your time, Jacob Smith. I don’t think you are ready for any form of companionship yet. Will you unlock this door or shall I?”

[Jacob Smith]

Nathaniel’s words burned like a whiplash. Jacob winced. Blood hammered into his temples; his heart was pumping in his throat. The volcano was erupting again. With his booming voice, immense height and strong fingers that could easily crush someone’s windpipe, raging Nathaniel was a terrifying presence. Nevertheless, being right disturbed Jacob far more than a threat of violence.

‘Indecent with you’. So Nathaniel was being territorial after all. Jacob’s hunch was accurate; his worst assumptions were confirmed as the worst of assumptions often do. How a tiny woman twice smaller than Nathaniel could be perceived as a competitor was beyond Jacob’s comprehension, but it was the truth, and it was staring him in the face.

A spectral hand squeezed Jacob’s throat. If he tried to speak, his voice would come out small and shaky, so he remained silent. Wordlessly — for all his practice of lines in front of the mirror could not prepare him for this moment, he rose to his feet and moved to unlock the door. He might as well have been walking on coals, but in the end, the key was turned, and the light spilled into the shop through an opened door. Jacob barely felt the winter’s chill that immediately started biting his face and fingers.

It was for the best, he decided. It hurt like Hell, but it ought to be done. Jacob has seen this man for the third time in his life, and he has already grown so greedy. Unchecked greed knew no boundaries; it brought a fair share of Jacob’s customers into his shop. He won’t allow himself to become an object of someone else’s greed. Nathaniel will be alright, after all. It is men like Jacob who are often found in the alleys with their throats cut open.

However, there was one thing he hated even more than letting Nathaniel leave — it was letting him have the last word.
“It was very English of you,” he half-whispered lest his voice should break. “Maybe let your next companion have some say in the matter before dragging them into your bed and deeming them your property. It will work wonders for you.” Jacob gestured to the door and held it open, allowing Nathaniel to depart with his secrets and regrets.