survival

mutiny

"What's he look like?" I asked, sighing for the hundredth time. "And how do you know he'll be here?"

"It's the market, he'll come," Declan nodded, eyes darting all around. I knew him well now to know he was losing some patience. So I remained quiet. Instead, I looked too but had no idea for who or what. He was a Scotsman, that's all I knew. Had some company, gave away the rights, whatever else Declan told us. "There."

I turned, seeing Declan more forward. Us 3 remained still but remained cautious of all those around us. Montreal was beautiful, no doubt, but perhaps not the best fit for me in any opinion. I liked the wild, the openness, and I knew Declan did too. I kept thinking back to Jack's place and how much I liked the location.

Declan wrapped his arm around the man, walking them towards us. "I need a quick buyer for a large number of beaver pelts."

"And you want to do a deal with the Low River Company?" Asked the Scot.

"I did," Declan nodded. "Until I heard you pissed it all away, Malcolm."

"Huh... is that what you heard?"

"I also heard your brother married the widow Carruthers.." I perked a brow to McTaggart, us both sharing a look as we listened.

"Did you hear she's a right fucking bitch? Because that's also true." I scoffed quietly, shaking my head at the words of Malcolm. A powerful woman who understood how the game needed to be played? That's what made her a bitch? Men, I tell you.

"Can you get me a meeting with her?" Declan asked.

"Do you know this woman, Harp?"

My lover shook his head, "only by reputation."

"I have to warn you that words with her is like... putting your face against a rolling grindstone."

Harsh...

"It's her business, not her conversation, that I'm interested in."

"A finder's fee for setting it up and I'll see what I can do.." Malcolm trailed.

"Agreed," Declan nodded a bit. Malcolm nodded, looking around before moving to lead then away. Declan turned to us and nodded, his arm extended for me. I wrapped my hand around his bulging bicep and kept his pace as we followed the Scot.

We arrived at a large warehouse, people bustling all around. "Montreal always smell like shite?" I whispered. Declan laughed gruffly as we arrived at the door.

"Stay here, I'll be back," he nodded. I sighed and let go, nodding as he and Malcolm entered the building. I moved closer to my companions, us all leaning against the walls and watching with curiosity around us. I furrowed my brow when Malcolm exited the building, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

"He did say it was like grindstone..." I chuckled, making McTaggart grin a bit. We didn't wait too long after before Declan was exiting as well.

"I need a tailor," he spoke.

"You need a plaid suit, big man," McTaggart snapped. Declan paused with us on the stairs, eyeing his friend.

"What's all this about?" Charlie asked.

"We're going to dinner," Declan responded, leading the way down. I perked a brow before furrowing them and walking beside Charlie.

"Here, here, here," Tag called, nudging Charlie. "A good suit is a suit that you can play chess on."

"What do you know of suits?" I asked, chuckling. "Never had an ounce of class in ye, eh?"

"I'm telling ya," he shook his head. "You listen to Daddy!"