Well into the evening, Mel and I worked on the eatery. Supplies came as they were ready, and we put time and effort into using them as best we could. It was grueling work, and any curious desire I had to jump into being a builder dried up fast. I'd never thought of how grueling and mind numbing the work could be. And I had a system on my side, making it easier.

By the time we finished even one item on Derrick's honey-do list, I was sore all over and just as dirty as I had been pre-bath.

I also had absolutely no desire to do anything but crawl into my cot and die for the next few hours.

It seemed like Mel was right there with me.

Maybe it was just the hard labor, but neither of us complained about skipping out on dinner and just going to bed. Sure, maybe we'd regret it in the morning. But the body wants what the body wants, and mine wanted nothing more than sleep.

Of course, the rats decided it was a lovely time to have a house party. I swear I could have heard their fornication and illegal substance use all night long. All the ambience was missing was some deep, thumbing beats and a smoke machine.

All things considered, though, I did at least get some rest. My mind was empty, my breathing was regular, and I laid mostly still from sundown to sunup. I called that win.

But, with the sun, came another day of repairs and needs. And a very hungry stomach.

I knew I was wasting money purchasing food from other eateries. Not to mention the potential experience that would be given from cooking for Mel and myself at least twice a day. I knew if I had the right supplies (hell, even just a stove), I'd give it a go. But until the blacksmith came through, I was stuck without.

Plus, I had to go into the town proper today, anyway. There were adventurers to hire, an entire floor of the building to design and build, and some hungry humping rats to evict from my cellar. I also wanted another bath, and considering how cheap it was, I thought it was a luxury I could actually afford.

After a bit of discussion, Mel and I decided to go together. We could both use the basic pampering. While Mel had some magical ability to clean herself just by shifting to her winged form and back, it was apparently taxing and also not actually cleansing. More like a lizard molting its skin. Sure, the skin under was fresh but the old stuff had to go somewhere. And apparently it was some metaphysical shit that just added to her stress.

So we went to the public bathhouse together. At first I was worried that we'd have to take turns, but it turned out that they had separate rooms for men and women. Which was kind of nice. Not that Mel hadn't seen me in various states of undress during our time together, but there was something way weirder about it when it wasn't a necessity.

As soon as I hit the water, my muscles crumpled.

I was suddenly overcome by the "don't wannas".

Had to go to the adventurer's guild - don't wanna.

Had to get building done - don't wanna.

Had to finish Derrick's list of bullshit - don't wanna.

I didn't want to do anything more than just lounge in this lukewarm water and prune the day away.

My stomach rumbled to remind me that I would need to eat soon, and the "don't wannas" become a little muted.

By the time I worked up the effort to actually bathe, I did feel miraculously better. And while I wouldn't say I was motivated to take on the day, I did realize we were going to need some sort of bathtub or wash basin or something in the eatery. A daily clean would do wonders to keep me moving.

Mel and I met up after our respective dips and we went off to the eatery I'd visited before, in the marketplace. Now that I was half paying attention, I caught a glimpse of an old wooden sign outside that proclaimed this place was called Olde Day's Inn. I wondered if the old woman was Olde Day. And if this place was really an inn, with beds to rent. Or if the name was just a bit of a misnomer.

The woman - who I was absolutely going to call Day, even if only in my mind - was behind the counter. She looked happy enough when the bell rang above the door when we entered, but as soon as she got a good look at the two of us she grimaced.

"If it ain't the level one chef and his lady wife."

I looked at Mel and grinned, but she just shrugged. "Good morning to you, Lizbeth."

Damn. Not Day. Perhaps Day was her husband.

"What in god's green asshole do the two of you want?"

Mel bristled, but still gave the grumpy woman a thin smile. "Breakfast, for a start, if you don't mind. Perhaps after we can chat?"

"Don't do ‘chatting’ with folks like you. Breakfast you can have, if you pay this time."

This time?

I raised an eyebrow in Mel's direction as we sat at a rickety table, but she didn't say anything in response to either Lizbeth (Not-Day) or my fantastically inquisitive eyebrow arch. Which was fine. I had all the patience in the world.

Lizbeth (Not-Day) brought us both a bowl of what looked like mush with an overcooked egg draped on top. There was some sort of swirl of something that could have been gravy, but also just straight animal fat.

"Do you have any fresh fruit today, Lizbeth?" Mel's voice was honey sweet, but it seemed to do nothing for the old woman, who just grumbled some nasty curses under her breath and strode away.

"Guess not," I said with a thin grin. "So, been using your charms to get free food, I see."

"Unfortunately after a day, the person remembers they've been duped," she said with a mirrored grin. "Makes returning to the scene of the crime a bit awkward for everyone involved."

"We could have gone somewhere else."

"Eh, in spite of Lizbeth's callous exterior, she is really quite lovely. Hates you like the flames of the brightest sun, though."

I muttered something and dug into my breakfast. The grains in what I guessed was porridge were thick and lumpy, but filling. It was a meal that would hang on to me, and keep me going through the day. The swirl of dark liquid seemed to be some sort of gravy indeed, although I couldn't tell what type of animal fat is used as a base.

When mixed all together, the meal was more than passable.

I didn't know what I'd done to piss the old woman off. Perhaps she heard that I was actually working to get the eatery up. Or maybe I didn't participate in some weird Mystic Falls social tradition. Should I have brought a cake or something on my first day here? Maybe a basket of fruit she'd never eat?

Or, maybe, it was frustration. Looking around the Olde Day's Inn, I could see it was in way more shambles than I'd originally thought. Perhaps Lizbeth had started her career as a chef giving a damn, but obviously she'd lost the drive somewhere along the way. Maybe my determination had soured her, and she could only hope to make me as miserable as she was.

Whatever the reason, she didn't say more than two more words to us while we ate, and the words she did share was to tell us we owed her three bits, which Mel translated to mean quarters. Which seemed incredibly cheap for food, but perhaps she had a soft spot for us after all.

I thought about offering Lizbeth some help. Maybe if she were willing to pay me, I could help her repair her building a little. Maybe it would go a distance towards filling some of her seats. Maybe even beds, if she had ones like an actual inn and it wasn't just a name.

But any effort I put towards her establishment was an effort I wouldn't be able to put towards mine.

So I didn't speak up.

Instead, I went my separate way from Mel. She got to go back to the eatery and play receiver for whatever random shipments showed up today, while I got to go be a quest giver.

Visiting the adventurer's guild so soon after having just threatened them felt super weird. I expected to be turned away at the door, but the person behind the desk today was a guy who seemed to have zero fucks to spare for who I was or what I wanted. At least, until I said I was posting a job. Then I was his best friend ever.

The process for submitting a quest through the guild was weird. I had an application to fill out, and had to determine the level of adventurer or adventurers necessary for such a thing. I had to disclose any additional details that might make the job harder, which was what I always thought of as the "hidden fun stuff." This was where you got to learn what you were really doing. For my quest, I added that there were small spaces involved, and that the rats might have an underground orgy ring going on.

Last thing I had to do was set a name for the quest. Which like, fuck. When you're put on the spot, nothing sounds good.

I knew a clever name could really win some folks over.

Something like "A Rat Problem" was going to make adventurers turn up their noses. But "Aww, Rats!" was just too obvious.

Eventually, I just settled on "The Grapes of Rat." It was horrible, but at least it was something. It was also (potentially) wistful thinking that maybe I'd find an intact bottle of wine down there after the adventurer was done.

With my quest form filled out, I was ushered into a little side room while the quest was presented to the adventurers present in the hall.

I'd never actually been on this side of things. It was a bit disorienting. I could remember everyone gathering together while the quest text was read aloud, and me and my fellow adventurers would argue and fight and arm wrestle our way to deciding who would take it.

Sometimes no one would bite.

I wondered what happened to those quests.

After nearly an hour, I got to find out. Just my luck.

The guy from the front came in and broke the bad news. He handed me back my form, shrugged, and told me I was shit out of luck. Try again tomorrow. Maybe. But he wouldn't hold his breath, so maybe I shouldn't either. Mystic Falls didn't have many adventurers, and the ones they did have didn't have time for baby-grade stuff like this. He said that perhaps I'd be better off trying to fund a new adventurer to handle it.

Which, fuck that.

I had a sword. I'd do it my damn self.