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He has chests stuffed full of junk. And bone. He’s made friends with one of the middle men near the abattoir and can get calibre bone at knock down prices before it ends up on the commercial markets. He can’t get gunpowder though. Nor sulphur. He’s not a master engineer, just an apprentice, and in any case, even if he was a GuildMaster why would a watchmaker be trying to buy explosives?
HayWire thinks that MaxChaos might be the route to follow, because he knows some questionable characters, and he’s more likely to find opportunities on the black market. HayWire sometimes feels uncomfortable around normal people, let alone the shady types who live down by the docks.
“Are you two talking about gunpowder again?” says Constable Walker as she draws up a chair to their table. She calls Julia over and asks her for a nice strong coffee, then smiles at the youngsters.
“I thought I’d find you in here.”
“HayWire, what happened to your face?” asks Walker as she notices a bruise developing just below his left eye.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, “I walked into a door again! Sometimes my mind’s on other things and I’m not looking where I’m going.”
Walker’s not sure that she could help in this sort of situation, and she does one of her half smiles. She assumes it’s merely a fact of life, given HayWire’s neurodivergent nature. Then she turns to MaxChaos.
“I wanted to catch up with you Max, and say two things. Firstly, you did a great job with the regatta earlier today. And more importantly, you’re the talk of the Garrison having disabled The Frumious Bandersnatch the way you did. Have you ever thought about joining the Garrison?”
With a look of incredulity, MaxChaos summons up the most diplomatic language he can muster and looks Walker in the eye.
“I’ve got a diploma of sod all,” he says, “and anyway, I’m still too much of a rebel, I wouldn’t fit in, I couldn’t cope with being told what to do all the time.”
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