Crazy Bosses Title: Crazy Bosses
Author: Amedia (amedia@fanfic.tv)
Word Count: 654
Rating: G
Summary: The prompt says it all!
Note: Initially posted on livejournal on 12/9/2009.
Response to kseda's request "That one time the Mystic Man's pet tin man and the queen's adviser got drunk and whined about working for crazy people" for the DeMilo's Wagon commentfic exchange.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Imagiquest Entertainment. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Yes, it was two o'clock in the afternoon, and no, he didn't normally drink that early in the day, but this was a special case.
He had been running errands (errands!) for his employer in a hoity-toity district, but a bar's a bar no matter where you are, and he spotted one quickly.
Ducking into the dim interior, he allowed his eyes to adjust and then looked around. There weren't any customers in the place at all; the little tables and chairs were all empty. No, wait, there was one morose-looking fellow sitting at the bar.
Cain chose a stool three seats away from the other guy; not so far that he looked unfriendly, not so close as to get into the other guy's space. He needn't have worried. The other guy, whose maroon velvet suit probably cost more than Cain's monthly salary, looked up and said, "Can I buy you something?"
Cain scrutinized him. Not really drunk yet, but a sheet or two to the wind. No danger signs. Cain nodded.
"What'll ya have?" asked the guy, motioning to the bartender.
"A beer."
The other man waved his hand dismissively. "I wanna be generous. How about a Scotch?"
Cain nodded. The bartender gave him a questioning glance, and Cain said, "On the rocks."
"Make it a double," said his companion. The bartender glanced at Cain again, and he nodded. Moving down to the stool next to his benefactor's, Cain put his hand out. "Name's Cain. Thanks for the drink."
"Ambrose," said the other, shaking his hand with a pleasantly firm grip. "No problem." He cocked his head and looked closely at Cain. "I suspect we're here for similar reasons." He finished his drink in a single gulp and pushed the glass forward for a refill. "Employer driving you crazy?"
Cain laughed. "How'd you guess?"
Ambrose tapped his forehead. "I didn't guess. I know. I've seen you around--don't you work for the Mystic Man?"
Cain was impressed. "Yes, I do," he said, accepting the Scotch from the bartender.
"They don't come any crazier than him. Well, except for *my* boss." Ambrose sipped his new drink. "Not that I want to sound ... disloyal."
There was an emphasis on that last word that made Cain momentarily thoughtful. Something clicked in his memory. "You're an advisor to the Queen, aren't you? I've seen your picture somewhere."
Ambrose wagged a correcting finger. "THE advisor to the Queen. Numero Uno." He sighed. "Yes, the Queen. Who wants me to figure out a way to extend the growing season and make the winter less harsh, so the people will love her even more than they do now, as if that were possible. Do you know what happens when the winter isn't cold enough to kill the mosquitoes? Have you ever lived in a place where there are..." he lowered his voice conspiratorially and leaned closer to Cain, "fire ants?" Cain shook his head. Ambrose straightened up and said with great dignity, "It isn't nice. But does she listen to me?"
"No?" Cain guessed.
"No," Ambrose said emphatically. "Hey, your drink's empty. Bartender!"
Sipping his second double Scotch, Cain relaxed enough to say, "How many brilliant and powerful seers send their security detail out to drop off the dry cleaning? I should be guarding him, not giving special instructions about silk velvet dress robes versus polyester satin everyday caftans to people who already know their jobs. And why he has to dress like that in the first place I have NO CLUE. But does he listen to me?"
"No?"
"No."
Ambrose raised his glass. "Here's to unreasonable employers. May they never suffer the consequences of their ... " he appeared to be visibly running through a list of possible words in his mind and rejecting each one, clearly mouthing "stupidity" and "shortsightedness" before finally settling on "... eccentricity."
"I'll drink to that," said Cain.
THE END
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