Harry; Back At Work
Subject: Another Reunion Where: Harry's office, the Bridge Theatre, Lower Pitt Street. Who: Harry Fisher Warnings: None as yet Open to: Ann Wayland
Bent over the desk, Harry glared at the papers in front of him. He was tired, dead tired, and the stress of having Slater appear, the Ambassador's request, and the idea of having Emilie (lady Emilie now, he reminded himself) seemed to be all too much. To cap it off, tonight was Blitzer's biggest fight of the year, with a lot of money riding on the little dog. It was sat under the desk, head resting on it's arms, a bowl of water and a marrowbone. It had cost almost threepence, but was as long as Harry's arm. No matter how much Viv complained about who such an expense was a waste of money for a dog, when such money could have been spent on the growing boys who needed good meat for dinner, Harry thought it was a good investment. Blitzer was his prized dog, along with Hawker, and they were his. He'd raised them, practically from pups. Not like the boys, who had had lives without him, and would do afterwards, matter of fact. The dogs relied on him, and they fought for him, and they won him prestige and cold hard cash.
Not that the boys didn't work hard, or put themselves in danger, but there were few as dedicated to him as Blitzer and Hawker.
He sighed, having read the same line of figures now for the uptenth time. He wasn't concentrating, and it was only just midday. He pushed his chair out from under the desk, and called Blitzer over, scratching the dog's ears as he murmured it's praises.