Chapter Text
“You realize, of course, that after last night’s… mishap, there’s no longer any doubt that we’ll need to invest in some extra muscle,” Ignis stated, making his way out of the kitchen of the diner, a dishtowel packed with ice in hand.
“What are you talking about? We handled it fine! Didn’t we, Prom?” Noct asked, turning to Prompto who was attempting to glare at him with the eye that wasn’t almost swollen shut.
“Oh yeah. Completely handled. And if by handled you mean sent ass over tea kettle into the dumpster out back… then yeah… handled like a champ,” Prompto grumbled, taking the ice pack from Ignis and gingerly pressing it against his poor eye.
Noct ducked his head at that and cleared his throat. “I mean… you were really holding your own though! If there hadn’t been three of them you definitely would’ve had’em!”
That seemed to bring a little smile to the poor piano player's face, though Ignis still seemed less than impressed.
For a few years now their little three man operation had been handling their illicit speakeasy by the skin of their teeth. The CW sat just below the diner in an old forgotten cellar, but it was in moments like this, with one of them banged up and bruised, that made them all realize just how close they truly were to trouble, ruin and jail.
“You can try to downplay this as much as you want, Noctis, but if Ardyn hadn’t stepped in we would be down more than just an unpaid tab,” Ignis said plainly. “Not only could we have lost part of the entertainment,” he said with a nod towards Prompto, “... but had those ruffians decided to utter a word of what we’re doing here, everything we’ve worked for would’ve been for nought.”
This time Ignis’s words seemed to find their mark like a well aimed dagger. Noct sighed, shoulders slumping as his eyes glanced back over to Prompto. The poor guy wincing slightly as he moved the ice pack down to rest against his bruised shoulder. “You’re right. I mean… I know we’ve been talking about looking for extra help for a few weeks now, but… last night proved it’s definitely time to get serious about it. If CW hopes to survive we can’t just keep relying on Ardyn’s help.”
Ardyn Izunia was one of the most feared and respected mobsters Insomnia had ever seen. His entire being demanded respect and so long as it was given to him there was peace in the valley. But one wrong move, one misstep, and you would be meeting Leviathan with a pair of cement shoes before too long.
However, his clout had been one of the few things that had kept Noct and the CW safe for the past few years. With Noctis being his only nephew he was given special privileges and safety that few were afforded when dealing with Ardyn. But there had to be a limit to that kindness at some point. Noct knew that his uncle wasn’t always going to be someone he could rely on to get him out of messy situations.
“It really was amazing to see the looks on those guys' faces when they saw him, though. I think one of them started crying,” Prompto said with a chuckle. “I mean… I’m used to seeing the guy and he never fails to give me the heebie jeebies. He absolutely struck the fear of Ifrit into those saps.”
“Yes. Ardyn’s quite good at giving the… as you say…
heebie jeebies
, to our rowdier customers,” Ignis said, adjusting his glasses as he spoke and making Noct and Prompto both snicker at hearing him use such lingo. “But the problem still remains. We can’t keep relying on him. We need to find our own muscle to show up front to stop all of the riff raff before it starts.”
“I love how you try to make our little blind pig sound respectable, Iggy,” Noct joked with a teasing smile.
Ignis huffed at the comment, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the counter. “It’s a far sight better than most of the hovels people are trying to open up around here. We have set a standard and I refuse to let scum from the street come in and tear down what we’ve worked so hard for.”
“Ooo… Specs is getting protective of the CW again. Remind me again why you can’t just be the muscle?” Prompto asked, his smile faltering at the withering look sent his way from the man in question.
“ Specs...,” Ignis began, “ ...can’t be the muscle because he’s already the cook, the bartender, the bookkeeper…,”
“All self imposed, mind you,” Noct cut in, hopping up on the diner counter with that same cheshire smile.
“ And… I’m also the one tasked with doing the other dirty work here because Prompto is too nice, you are too lazy and I’m the only one with enough sense not to be caught by the police in twenty minutes.”
“Hey! The police fiasco was one time! I was trying to help!” Noct shouted.
“You were trying to hand out flyers!”
“... it’s supposed to be a good marketing strategy.”
“Not for illegal speakeasies!” Ignis shouted, taking a deep breath a second later and running a hand through his hair as he recentered himself. “But these, dear Prompto, are all the reasons why I can’t be the muscle. Consider me the brain. We just need to find the brawn.”
Noct, who had deflated mightily under the knock to his flyer failure, grumbled at the comment. “Well, ‘ Mr. Brain’, how do you propose we do that, hmm? Apparently flyers are a no go,” he huffed.
“We could always just… get the word out there?” Prompto offered, setting the towel and ice down on the counter. “Ya know… tell some of the band and a few other people we trust to keep an eye out for some help?”
“While that’s definitely a commendable idea, Prompto, I’m afraid we can’t rely on that either. We’ve already had a few close calls with people trying to rough up the place. If any of them gets word that we well and truly don’t have proper protection we’re just sitting ducks.”
All three men turned quiet after Ignis’s comment, trying to think of the next best course of action.
“I can… always ask Ardyn if he knows anyone?” Noct offered, but Ignis quickly shook his head.
“We already ask too many favors from him and regardless of him being your family, I don’t want to press our luck,” Ignis said honestly.
Another quiet spell fell between them all, Noct with his head bowed in thought, Ignis absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the counter and Prompto fidgeting with the edge of the now slightly sodden towel.
“I mean… maybe I just gotta hit the gym more?” Prompto said quietly, breaking the silence and causing Ignis and Noct to turn toward him. Prompto’s lips turned up into a light smile as he looked back at his friends. “I know what you’re thinking… ‘ but Prom! You already look like a greek god! ’” he mimicked in a high pitched voice instantly causing Ignis to snort and Noct to chuckle as he threw a napkin at the blond.
“First of all, what was that voice?! You honestly don’t think either of us sounds like that, do you?” Noct asked. Prompto opened his mouth to respond, but Noct easily quieted him by tossing another napkin almost directly into his mouth. The poor man gagged on it, making Ignis have to turn away before he laughed outright. “Secondly, I hate to break it to you, but you look more like a scarecrow than one of those greek statues,” Noct teased. This definitely made Ignis’s cool facade crack, and he had to duck his head to hide a laugh at Prompto’s squawk of indignation.
“What?! I am the epitome of grecian beauty! And how dare you not recognize your own voice! I’m a fantastic mimic!”
Before Ignis had to step in to stop whatever sort of roughhousing was about to occur between the two, the bell to the front door rang out announcing the arrival of two customers.
The first was a sweet looking girl in her early teens. Her dark hair cut in a short bob and her eyes filled with warmth even if her expression was fiery.
And if the girl's eyes were considered fiery, then her companions were nothing short of an inferno.
The man had to stand well over six foot tall, his chest and shoulders broad, and his dark hair not hidden under his cap was buzzed short at the sides. His entire demeanor spoke of a military background, though the scar over his left eye definitely added another layer of intrigue to him.
“.... so… Prom… you were saying you had the physique of a what now?” Noct whispered, making Prompto flush up to his ears as he took in what had to be the epitome of a walking greek sculpture.
“Yeah, nevermind,” he whispered back. All three of them instantly quieted as the two newcomers started to have what was, without a doubt, a continued discussion from outside. Though an argument may have been a better term for it.
“Stop being ridiculous, Gladdy!” the young girl huffed as she made her way toward one of the small booths near the corner.
“I’m not being ridiculous, Iris,” the man, Gladdy , grumbled, taking off his cap as he followed behind her. He waited for her to take a seat in the booth before sliding in across from her, only just fitting into it.
“Yes. You are,” she shot back, smoothing out her skirt. “You and Dad are never going to see eye to eye on this, you know?” She watched her brother with narrowed eyes for a moment before seeing something in his expression that made her soften. “I mean… I can’t say I’m the biggest fan of you fighting for a living, but… if it’s what you want to do then you should pursue it, Gladio.”
Gladio’s own stormy expression slowly changed at that comment, shifting into something a bit more somber. His eyes glanced down at the table before him, his hand coming up to run through his short hair in an almost nervous gesture. “Listen. I know that boxing isn’t exactly the most glorious job in the world, but… I’m good at it. And there’s money in it when you’re good enough. With Dad out of commission for the time being it would be like killing two birds with one stone, ya know? I could get money for us while also making a name for myself.”
“Gladio,” Iris said quietly, reaching over to rest her smaller hand over her brother's much larger one. “If this is what you want to do then you know I’ll stand behind you. And… I know Dad will come around eventually.”
Gladio gave a small smile at that, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s alright, Iris,” he said quietly, putting his other hand over his sisters and giving a little shake of his head before sitting back. “It’s not like I have the funds to continue pursuing this anyway. You gotta have the money to get into the matches to make a profit. As it stands right now, Dad isn’t willing to help me out and so far every place I’ve applied to has taken one look at my face and labeled me bad news. At this rate I think I’m just gonna follow Dad’s advice and re-enlist.”
Throughout the entire conversation the three men at the counter couldn’t help listening in. How could they not? It was almost like the Astrals were attempting to answer their prayers. There was no doubt that even the sight of Gladio’s bulk would have most people thinking twice before acting up around him.
Noct gave Ignis a little look as the two siblings continued to talk a bit quieter now, seemingly more aware now of the three men at the counter. He raised his eyebrow, silently asking Ignis’s thoughts, but the man gave him an almost imperceptible shake of his head. His brow was furrowed in thought and his eyes were narrowed. There was no doubt that Ignis didn’t trust this stroke of providence.
It was almost too good to be true.
Noct, however, couldn’t fathom what there was to think on. Hadn’t they both just heard the same thing? The guy liked to fight and he needed money? Working for the CW would easily supply him with both!
Mind made up, Noct jumped off the counter, making his way over to the table. Ignis made to reach for Noct, but the younger man easily ducked out of his grasp. As he strode along he slyly nicked Prompto’s pen and pad of paper for orders from the blonds back pocket, pointedly ignoring the eyes that he could feel burning into the back of his head.
He was definitely a dead man when Ignis got a hold of him, but there were witnesses here! He was at least safe for a few more minutes.
Walking up to the table, the two stopped their conversation and turned to him. The young girl had a slight blush to her cheeks while the older brother had a look that said, ‘ Does my sister know you? And if she does, you're dead. ’
“Welcome to ‘ The Princely Pauper Diner ’,” Noct began with as much hospitality as he could muster. This really was more Prompto’s area with the customers, but considering he looked like he’d gone three rounds with a pissed off garula, he was in no shape to wait on tables. Besides, Noct wanted to feel out the situation a bit more. “What can I get you both to drink for starters? We make a mean chocolate malt here, though if that’s not to your taste I’m sure I can find you a good ginger ale or another soda?”
Iris’s eyes seemed to sparkle at the mention of the chocolate malt and Gladio’s death glare seemed to dwindle when he noticed no familiarity between his sister and Noct. “A chocolate malt for her and some water for me would be fine, thank you,” Gladio answered, relaxing back in his seat a bit.
“Really? Water? Nothing with a bit more zip?” Noct asked.
“Not unless you got some giggle wat-GAH!,” Gladio began to mumble under his breath before hissing and reaching under the table to rub at his leg, glaring at his sister. The girl was staring daggers at him and turned to smile sweetly at Noct.
“Don’t pay any attention to him. He never touches that stuff. Isn’t that right, Gladdy?” she asked through clenched teeth and a forced smile, but Noct had heard all he needed to. If the man was able to speak so easily about alcohol then obviously he wasn’t here as part of a sting. His sister leaving him with something akin to a broken shin easily cemented that idea.
“No worries. I’ll be right back with your drinks. I’ll leave you to peruse the menu though I recommend the stacked ham sandwich,” he said before turning around and heading back toward the counter.
Ignis was staring him down like he had already marked him for execution.
Prompto looked ready to read his eulogy for him.
“What in the name of Shiva do you think you’re doing?” Ignis hissed once Noct was close enough.
“Relax, Specs. I just wanted to get a closer look, alright? All I did was ask for their drinks order,” Noct tried to placate, as Ignis kept his eyes narrowed. “I swear. I didn’t ask him any question that didn’t involve food or a beverage and I didn’t say anything about CW. But…,”
“But?” Ignis pressed, Prompto wincing a little at the tone the man had and glancing nervously between the two of them.
Noct couldn’t help smiling a bit more. “I don’t think he’s involved with the coppers and when I asked him if he wanted anything besides water he may have mentioned something just a bit stronger. At least, he was going to before his sister nailed him in the leg to shut him up,” he said, glancing back at the table before turning back to Ignis and Prompto. “I think we may have found our man. Now… one chocolate malt and a water for the table. We can’t get off on the wrong foot.”
Ignis let his own eyes flicker to the table, noticing that for the first time that Gladio’s attention seemed to be turned their way. However, as soon as their eyes met, the man instantly turned back around.
Ignis sniffed at the reaction before reaching under the counter for a couple glasses. “We shall see. Though I think I’ll deliver to the table. I’d like to get a proper read on him before I agree to one of your ideas,” he remarked as he set the glasses on the countertop and reached for the malt mix.
“Ya know what? I’m not even gonna take the bait on that obvious remark on my past ideas,” Noct said, trying to be civil about this. “You can deliver as many drinks to that table as you want, but I think you’ll agree with me. I know what I’m talking about.”
Prompto and Ignis both paused to give Noct less than amused expressions.
“... this time,” he amended.
And he well and truly believed that.