housekeeper.

Rafaël van der Valk

How the hell do you hire kin-only staff anyway? Wolf hasn't the faintest idea. Never had to do it before. House like this, life like this, wasn't even remotely on his horizon six months ago.

So he turns the job over to someone else. Delegates. Turns out he gets that part right after all.

--

It's the head housekeeper that puts out the word. There's no craigslist for the Garou Nation. It's mostly word of mouth. Maybe some word of GW.net. Regardless, somehow word gets to Cassidy, and somehow Cassidy and a few others end up called in to interview.

Nondescript hotel room in the suburbs. Head housekeeper's a woman in her late forties, long lean face, greying hair cinched into a tight bun, mouth a flat line. Couldn't look more like the severe keeper of a Silver Fang's house if she tried.

There's the usual questions. Where are you from. What did you do before this. Do you have references. Why are you looking for another job. Why this job.

Then, toward the end, there's the unusual disclosure:

There's been a bit of ... upheaval lately. It's not my place to go into specifics. But suffice it to say we've lost some staff and gained some staff. The ones we lost were the ones who didn't know when to hold their tongues.

--

No word of when she might be contacted again at the end of the interview. She's left to herself, sky a leaden grey overhead.

Three days later she gets another call. Job is hers. Mostly. Just has to meet the master of the house.

--

This time she's given a private address. Nice part of town: Highlands. City-center. Expensive and exclusive as fuck. House turns out to be a modern loft, townhouse-style, though detached. Lots of glass and square angles. Tiny backyard, but having one in the first place is something.

Doorbell's a pleasant three-note chime. Silence for a while afterward. Then thudding of feet, progressively closer.

Door yanks open. Wolf stands there, drawstring lounge pants and an old t-shirt. Hulking thing, all shoulders and chest and fists. Fading bruise on his cheek, scratches on his arms. Stares blankly at Cassidy for a while. Abruptly remembers.

"You the new maid?" He steps aside to let her in.

Cassidy St. James

It would be strange to admit, but she's been on these sorts of interviews before. She does have references, afterall. The most recent being in Salt Lake City, her previous employer having relocated to St. Petersburg earlier in the month. She did provide references, ones that stayed state side. Some that moved out of the country and a means to contact those who were not. Left to herself, she explored the city. Spent some time on Skype talking to some friends. Mostly, she spent her time in a Motel 6 waiting for a callback, one that wouldn't necessarily come. Cassidy expected to move on. What's the difference between a Bone Gnawer and a Glass Walker if the Glass Walker is broke?

---

She pulled up to the house in a car that was forgettable and non-descript. It had doors. They all matched. It had tires. They did not match. One of them was a Michellin and had five thousand twenty three more miles on it than the other three. People didn't notice, not unless they stared at the tires for too long and were familiar with wear patterns.

Cassidy knew because she made it her business to know.

On the way there she took off yesterday's makeup. Wiped away eyeliner and foundation and lip liner and she was left with a face full of freckles and skin that was the color of something that was whitish brownish something. Her hair was dyed blonde, held back tight and neat and precise. French braid. Her shirt? Buttons up the front, every button but the top two buttoned. Lined up with the seam on her pants, perfectly parallel with the pleats in her trousers.

Her boots and shined and precise and meant to be worn by a man instead of a woman. She's an effeminate woman in masculine clothing. She's dressed like she's here... well... for a job interview.

He stares blankly at her and she looks him over. Lounge pants. Tee shirt. Gigantic with fading bruises and a few scratches. He can handle himself.

Blink.

Bliiiiiiiink.

"Cassidy Saint James," she said, stepped inside at an unremarkable height, "and hopefully I'm the new maid."

Rafaël van der Valk

Door slams behind her. Well; not an intentional slam. Just shuts hard. Wolf throws one lock carelessly. Steps ahead of her, leading her into the townhouse.

Nice place. Modern. Airy. Open plan, with the front door opening to a small foyer; frosted glass wall a translucent, doorless barrier between that and the rest of the place. Living room's double-height. Upstairs hallway open to it. Bedrooms on either end and another room, presumably some sort of study, off to the side. Under the hallway and the upstairs rooms, the kitchen and dining area, each open to the other.

Stainless steel appliances. Granite countertops. Hardwood floors down here with a big rug in the living room. Carpet upstairs, thick and plush.

Wolf doesn't seem to fit here, entirely. Something about him so rough, so unrefined. Wolf is obviously and undisputedly the master of this territory, though. Moves through it with unconscious, animal assurance. Goes to the kitchen with its breakfast bar and takes down a glass, shoves it against the fridge, gets ice, gets water.

Neglects to offer her any. Motions her toward the glass dining table and takes a seat across from her.

"I'm Rafaël."

Cassidy St. James

Stainless steel appliances. Shows fingerprints easily. Granite countertops. Special cleaner required. Reseal when he's out of town. Hardwood floors with a big rug in the living room. Steam clean and don't overwax. Be prepared to resand the floor and restain in the event of clawmarks.

She looks over the place quickly without saying a word, taking in every detail that she could in the most basic of ways. Note the entrances, note the exits. Don't ask for water, because it isn't his place to get you a beverage.

"It's a pleasure," she even smiles, and it looks like a genuine smile and not the baring of one's back teeth that certain mammals do when they're nervous. She isn't nervous. She isn't overtly nervous. She's just taking it in, and she's a guest in his territory. It's fascinating to observe Silver Fangs in their unnatural natural habitats.

"Is this a single occupant home?" casual and conversational.

Rafaël van der Valk

Wolf snorts a laugh when she says it's a pleasure. Caustic sort of sound, disbelieving. Then the amusement goes away. Long stare, expressionless.

"No." Flicks the answer out like a stone. "Got a housemate. Lives in the front bedroom. I'm in the back.

"Got a bunch of maids already too. They just hate commuting. Prefer to stay up at the place in the mountains. So I need someone to come around here. Don't even gotta come every day. Just often enough to keep things tidy."

Couple beats.

"And I need someone who'll keep her mouth shut. Doesn't ask too many questions. Doesn't go out and tell the world about shit that happens in my house. Understand?"

Cassidy St. James

"If I need to know something important, you'll tell me. Otherwise, it's none of my business. Discretion is a large part of this industry."

Because it was an industry. And felt incredubly, incredibly strange saying to someone who lived in a house like this. She wasn't ever going to see a place like this with her name on it, not unless she got a sugar daddy (possible) or started doing some Highly Questionable Deeds.

Rafaël van der Valk

'Industry.'

Wolf wonders where Cassidy comes from, that cleaning up other people's shit is an industry. Word means something different to him. Factories and shipyards. Showers of sparks from spot-welding. Hum of machinery, rumble of engines, shouts of men made unintelligible by distant and work and noise.

Whole other world out there. World where people didn't work with their hands. Sat on their asses and made money off of the money they'd already made. Paid other people to do things for them, like cook, clean, drive, organize. Still strange to him to live this life sometimes. A life where other people did half the living for you.

"Good." Wolf takes a drink of water, sets the glass down. Pause. Then, almost defensively: "Nothing bad happens here. Nothing that'll scar you or hurt you or whatever. Just like my privacy. Don't need people poking into my business.

"You got a place to stay?"

Cassidy St. James

"Cockroaches are resilient, I doubt that I'll run into anything more traumatic than errant balsamic vinegar stains," she said.

but then he asked her if she had somewhere to stay. Which made her pause, which caught her offguard, visually and completely offguard because Captain Precise cleared her throat and started to reach up to scratch her head, but stopped her hand and put it down again, realzing she didn't have somewhere to put her hands so she hung them dumb and lifeless at her sides.

There was a diplomatic way to say this. A calm and precise way to tell someone I live in a crappy motel. but it doesn't come out calm and precise, it comes out like this:

"Uh."

So articulate.

"I haven't gotten to that part yet."

Rafaël van der Valk

"Probably want to get a place close by."

So that clears that up. Wolf doesn't expect her to live here. Wants his privacy. For the best, likely.

"Marie talk to you about your pay?"

Cassidy St. James

Oh. Thank. Gaia.

"We did discuss it briefly? The rate seemed agreeable, though we didn't discuss any benefits outside of standard salary. Are there any on call hours or any specific times that you want me to be here? Or should I just be available?"

It could have sounded accusatory, but it just seems so practiced. Like she's had this conversation a number of times, played it out to various ends.

Rafaël van der Valk

Blank stare. Again.

Then wolf sits up. Sets the glass on the table, holds it between his big hands. Shoulders hunched, huge.

"You're supposed to get whatever's fair. Paycheck, health insurance, housing stipend so you can live reasonably close." Wolf grimaces. Bends his neck, scuffs his knuckles roughly over his hair. Paws his palm over his face and straightens up again. "Don't know the details. Marie's handling it.

"And like I said. Just come as often as you need to. So long as shit stays, y'know. Neat. Think it's gonna be you and one of the other girls for the first couple weeks. Show you the ropes I guess. Then she's going up to the other house so it'll pretty much just be you. I got a cook that comes here too. He handles the groceries. But you're responsible for pretty much everything else under the roof. Including calling in repairs or ... carpet cleanings or whatever. I don't know.

"Probably won't call you in, middle of the night or whatever. Unless something weird goes down. Then you might get called. But it won't be a habit."

Cassidy St. James

"That's... more than fair," words came out, and she tried not to seem surprised but she did seem surprised. Dark eyebrows rose, blue eyes wore the full burden of her suprirse briefly before fading out and that quest for perfection and order came clamoring back again. She cleared her throat, pulled down her shirt like she was Captain Picard, and smiled again.

"And weird happens. Like I said, I'm not worried. I'm actually looking forward to working here."

Rafaël van der Valk

Wolf doesn't smile back. Wolf just gives her this look, somewhere between quizzical and suspicious.

"Well. That's it. I got nothing else to say. You?"

Cassidy St. James

"Do I need to be let in every day?"

Rafaël van der Valk

"No. You got your own key." Chair scrapes floor. Wolf gets up. "Just don't go into the bedrooms without knocking. If I'm not in there I'll leave the door ajar so you know."

Cassidy St. James

"Do you have a laundry service?"

Rafaël van der Valk

"Probably." Drains the glass, heads into the kitchen. Then something amazing: wolf washes his own glass. "Ask the other girl. She'll know."

Cassidy St. James

"Do you prefer Rafael or Mister Van der Valk?"

Rafaël van der Valk

Wolf shoots her a glance over the breakfast bar. Green eyes. Lupine.

"Fuck, you're full of questions. Other maids just curtsey and scurry on." Beat; then he smirks. Maybe that was a joke. "Just call me Rafaël."

Cassidy St. James

"Alright, that's all I needed. Thank you for the opportunity and, again, I look forward to doing business with you," she replied. Because it was business, first and foremost.

Rafaël van der Valk

"Yeah." Wolf's stiff; awkward. Almost like he's never done this before. Business. Hiring someone. Straightens up, comes out from behind the breakfast bar. Seems like he oughta shake her hand, but wolf slips his fingers into his back pockets instead.

"Guess I'll see you around. I'll have Marie call you up. With all the details."

Cassidy St. James

"I look forward to it," she said. he's a little stiff, a little awkward, but she doesn't seem quite ready to pass judgment, and Cassidy sure as Hell doesn't ask questions. Doesn't press. Doesn't delve into precisely what it is that he is and isn't comfortable with. "See you soon, Rafaël."

Rafaël van der Valk

"Yeah." It's a natural movement toward the front door. Wolf holds it open while Cassidy goes through. Gives her this little wave, flick of a wrist, two fingers and a thumb. "Later, Cassidy."

Door shuts behind her as she turns away. Nice quiet street with its nice quiet houses. Center of the city not so far away. Real estate prices through the roof.

Better hope that housing subsidy's a good one.