Who: Mr. Gold, Abby Maitland What: …shopping? When: Mid-Afternoon Where: Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop Rating: low probably Status: In Progress
Plague and epidemic were running rampant in this county. Mr. Gold had not caught it -- and was fairly sure that he wouldn't, either, considering how long it had been since things had started. Most everything in the city had closed at this point -- beyond the terribly important things. Pawn shops were probably not the kind of thing that people were looking to shop at in this current climate. Mr. Gold kept his open, anyway. Not so much for the people who might be out shopping, but for himself.
There was something to be said about his little shop; he was there just as often as he was in his normal office (possibly more), always tinkering with something. Rearranging this and that.
It was an organized sort of haphazard -- things were on shelves all around the room, inside and on top of glass counters, and even some things had managed to be hung from the ceiling. And that wasn't even counting all the things he had in the back where no one else could see.
His cane resting on the counter next to him, Gold was tinkering with an old clock that he'd gotten in earlier in the month. He hadn't paid much for it -- but it was clear that once fixed it would be worth something grand to the right kind of buyer. Frankly, that was what Gold was always looking for: the right kind of buyer. It didn't really matter if money was involved or not.
The door to his shop jingled, signifying someone entering -- and even though it was a bit of a shock, Gold only bothered to raise his head from his delicate work with the clock when the footsteps of the stranger came close enough to see in his peripherals. He smiled, a tight oddly amused sort of smile. "And what can I do for you today, Dearie?"