For once, Glenn was not hard at work inside his shop, plugging away at one of the half-dozen or so projects he had in the pipeline at any one time. Instead he, along with a short, plain-looking woman with wisps of brown hair sticking out from under her red bandanna, was trying to maneuver a newly-sold kitchen table through his newly installed set of double-doors in the rear of the store. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to want to stay all the way opened, and he was finding it impossible to both move the table and to keep both doors open enough to slip it through the doorway. The woman was growing increasingly frustrated with the time the task was taking, and he was getting increasingly more and more nervous that she would decide the marked-down table wasn't worth the time or effort they were spending on carrying it to her cart up front.

He set the table down, leaning an elbow on the surface as he mulled his options. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. ?There's some cinder blocks up front. That'll hold it open. I'll be right back, ma'am.? He thought he could hear the tapping of an impatient foot upon the floor, but he ignored it as he snaked his way through the maze of furniture in his store to the front door.

Near the front of his shop, next to the concrete half-step up to the entrance, were several cinder blocks that had seemingly materialized out of thin air a day or two earlier. As he stooped to pick up the blocks, he spotted a familiar face in front of his store. Today's agitation, combined with his recent spats with Carley and Cyrail, conspired to make Glenn's smile for Everett a touch brighter than it might have been normally. It was good to see somebody who didn't dislike him or want to punch him in the face.

?Hello, Everett. What brings you over here?? Though located in the Dragon's Gate district, Rue des Farfadets was about as far away as one could get from the district's namesake Red Dragon Inn and still be in the district. It was near the wall dividing Dragon's Gate from the Marketplace district, but well north and west of the gate between the two neighborhoods. That, and the street's reputation for seediness, kept few from the city who knew about the area from visiting. The reputation seemed mostly unfounded. Though in many places the sidewalks were crumbled and neglected, and though many buildings were run-down, with roofs missing shingles and soot coating nearly everything with a fine gray-black film, there was little else in the area to suggest it was more than an ordinary residential zone. Only the occasional overheard conversation in French, as well as Common, marked it as anything different from the dozens of similar neighborhoods throughout RhyDin City.

Glenn gestured to a cart being pulled by a pair of black-coated draft horses, waiting in the street. They seemed to be whickering their impatience with the carpenter, and the time it was taking him to get the table loaded. ?I shouldn't be too long. I've just got to get a table out of the back and into this cart.? Arms dangling at his sides with the cinder blocks in his hands, he studied Everett for a brief moment.

?Actually...do you think you could do me a favor? I screwed up when I had the doors put in in the back and they don't really stay open very well unless someone holds them open. Hence these.? Glenn hefted one of the cinder blocks up. ?I know you can't help lift the table-? His eyes darted to the cane momentarily, before looking back up. ?But if you could hold one of the doors open, I can just carry one cinder block back to keep the other one open and I can get that table out and then we can talk about a desk.? A deep breath accompanied the conclusion of his long sentence.

?Does that sound alright to you? If not, I'll just take both of them back with me and be a little while before I'm ready again.?

Rather than take the long way around to the back, through the partially snow-covered grass that belonged to the neighboring house's lawn, Glenn set down one of the cinder blocks and pushed the front door open again, holding it until Everett had stepped inside. In response to Everett's question, and the rest of the man's conversation, Glenn asked, ?What year is it?? As quickly as the question was asked, Glenn waved it aside. ?Nevermind. I started training with my poppa when I was 8. I think there aren't a lot of people who make stuff here because there's all the things that come in through the docks and ports. It was like that a lot in Blackbridge too, sometimes.?

Once indoors, Glenn began pushing some dining table chairs out of the way, to clear a larger path through the labyrinth of his store. The window in the front of the shop only allowed a limited amount of light to filter in, so mage lamps hovered overhead and sconces dotted the walls as well. The store had an air of incompleteness to it, from the hastily made signs hanging from the ceiling indicating which half of the inventory was Glenn's and which half wasn't to the crudely epoxied concrete floor. He winced a little as his gaze drifted up at the signs. ?I had some stuff in storage, but even I couldn't work fast enough to get enough inventory to open a store, so I imported some stuff from Jenli.?

It wasn't long once they were off the small showroom floor and towards the back of the store before they came across the table, and the rather cross looking woman Glenn had sold it to. ?Sorry, ma'am. Everett here's going to help us out a little. Everett, this is Rieza Fournier. Rieza, Everett.? Glenn gestured between the pair, his motions slower, more deliberate, and exaggerated than one might expect for an introduction. Rieza looked askance at Glenn for a moment, before turning her attention to Everett.

?Everett? Enchant? de faire votre connaissance.? If the annoyed look and turned up nose were any indication, though, she was anything but pleased to meet the poet. Glenn, not understanding a bit of French, moved past the table and the woman to open one of the doors and place a block in front of it, to keep it open. He then grabbed one end of the table and asked Rieza, ?Ready?? As soon as Everett opened the other door and held it in place, Glenn and Rieza lifted the table and began carrying it out.

Rieza and Glenn, with the assistance of the cinder block and Everett, managed to get the table out the back door, through the side yard, and into the woman's cart without any further incident. With a curt ?Merci? for the carpenter, she urged the horses on and away from Glenn's store.

Glenn stood in the street briefly, watching the carriage pull away with a bemused expression on his face. The effort of carrying the table had left him sweating, and he wiped his forehead against his forearm, then lifted the collar of his white work shirt over the bottom half of his face. The sopped-up sweat, coupled with speckles of wood stain and paint from a rainbow's worth of shades, made him look every bit the blue-collar worker he was. He rubbed at his shoulders, first the left, then the right, as he stepped back into his shop.

The chair Everett was examining was part of a set of four dining room chairs, and the design, for the most part, was fairly simple. It was made of sturdy oak and treated with a rich reddish-brown stain. There was some lathe-work done, to turn simple knobby patterns into the legs and supports between them, but it was otherwise quite ordinary. Except for the seat back. Flanked by smaller, simpler cylinders of wood was a fiddleback. It resembled the shape of a violin, or an hourglass, or an oversize keyhole, depending on how closely one looked at it. It looked like it would have taken a great deal of skill to curve the edges and to carve the holes inside the splat without compromising the wood's integrity.

?You like that chair?? Glenn's tone was casual, friendly. He may have been a good enough salesperson to stay in business for quite some time, but he was far from high-pressure. Rather, he was the kind of store owner who seemed to genuinely care about his customers, even those who were on the ruder side. Thankfully, Everett seemed to be a much different patron than Rieza had been.

Glenn stepped away from the fiddleback chair and into the jumble of tables, chairs, desks, and other pieces of furniture that cluttered the ?showroom? floor. He gestured first to a Shaker style writing desk which, even in its simplicity and lack of obvious frills, boasted all the hallmarks of a fine craftsman's work. The legs were tall and slender, but still seemed sturdy. The body of the desk had, in addition to the writing surface, a pair of drawers. Attached to the back of the desk was a bridge, with a pair of small cabinets flanking a central space for shelving small paperback books. There was also space on top of the bridge for one to put various knick-knacks. ?This one's made out of maple, with a cherry finish.? Glenn then pointed to a secretary-style desk. At first glance, it was a little bit taller and narrower than the previous desk, and looked more like a tall cabinet than office furniture. Glenn pulled down the front section, though, revealing that it was a surface for writing, and that there interior shelves for storage space hidden within. Beneath the top was a small drawer, and another door with additional space available. ?This one's oak, with a lighter finish. I can do either of these for 400 silver.? Glenn paused, for added effect, then smiled and turned back to Everett.

?Which do you think you'd want??

Glenn took a few steps closer to the secretary desk, rapping his knuckles on the writing surface with a smile on his face. ?Oak's a good choice. Solid, sturdy, all that good stuff. Now would you want this one-? He knocked on the wood again, grin widening just a fraction at the unintended good-luck gesture. ?with this finish and everything, or would you want it in a different color? It'll take a little longer to make another one and stain it in a different color, but I can also throw in some small extra features at no charge. Hidden drawers, false bottoms, things like that. The floor model doesn't have anything like that, but I can put in one or two of these for free, as long as you're willing to wait for me to make it.?

?Either way, though, it's up to you. There's a lot of different shades I can stain it in if you want. Just let me know what you want.?

Glenn wasn't the kind of businessman who drew up complicated contracts whenever he sold a bed frame or a dresser to a customer. Nor did he feel the need to charge them for every little task he completed, every block of wood and can of wood stain it took to finish a project. He didn't ask for a percentage of the commission up front, right then and there. Instead, with a jovial smile, he held out a calloused hand for Everett to shake on the deal.

?You'll have your desk in a few weeks. I can send word to where you're living or working when I'm done, and you can have whoever stop by and pick it up whenever you want it. Or if you can't find anybody who's available when it's done, I can ask Guillaume and Raibeart to bring their cart by and help you out. They do it all the time for my customers. But until then, have a good day. And, uh, good luck.? He scratched at shaggy dark blonde hair, before offering up one last smile. His work was sometimes tiring, frustrating, even a little bit dangerous, but it was always rewarding.