Finn didn’t intend to be late, but he could not abide a squeaky door hinge. Sure, it lent itself to the general ambiance of the tavern, but it was a wrong he was compelled to right. A little grease spell, along with a few test swings, and everything was right with the world. For now.
“Barty ye ol’ codger! Ya never invite me nowhere nice anymore. Don’t make me believe yer embarrassed ta’ be seen wit me.” The young junk man laughed, his bare left hand pulled out his chair, while his gloved right hand placed his tool belt on the table.
“What can yer buddy Finn do for ya this time? I’ve been making all sorts of toys since nobody wants to buy the dilapidated junk that shop peddles. Gotta make treasure out of trash, ya know?” Finn squinted in the dim candlelight, and took a small screwdriver from his belt, beginning to assemble some small scraps of metal.
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In over his head |