This was why Jack liked this place. Not only was it large enough to run his session but the service was excellent. It seemed that no sooner had his needs occurred to him, but they were taken care of by one of the pretty barmaids. Not many places this side of town could boast even half as much.
“Thanks love,” he said, his accent thick with the sounds of the streets and yet tinged with something else. Something just a little exotic and a testimony to his travels.
He glanced up at who had come to his aid while stuffing tobacco into his pipe. Charlotte. Good girl. Young, very young, though that was probably part of her appeal. It kept the Britannia full and the pints coming; men always loved a pretty face floating above a mug of dark brew or hell water.
“You’ve more patience than you think,” Jack said as he reached for the matches. Flicking one out and striking the tip, he used the burning head to indicate the room around them before finally setting it to the pipe between his lips. “Complaints ain’t all that much different from drunken ramblings.”