(This will be an occasional feature of some small bit of work that doesn’t fall neatly into the wider narratives of my large projects, but I find amusing and important enough to share. They will mostly be very small peeks into the worlds I’m creating. This one is related to Children of the Godsteel/Terminaburg.)
“The Pamphleteer?” Joe chuckled at the name.
All activity at the table, situated deep in the darkest corner of Betsy’s Book Bar, stopped. Francine, Daniel, Erica, and Henry all went silent, turning their heads in unison to glare.
“What?” He said, chuckling again, with less spirit.
“Have you never heard of him?” Francine asked, leaning in.
Joe shook his head. “I mean, that’s kind of a dumb name, right? The Pamphleteer? C’mon.”
Henry leaned in, sidled up next to Joe. He gestured for the others to pull in. “Pamphleteer ain’t no joke,” he mumbled, jabbing his finger in Joe’s chest for emphasis. “Any history leaves him out is garbage.”
“We need to tell him now.” Erica’s tone suggested it was a command, rather than a request.
“Hell yes we do!” Daniel turned and waved to the bar. “We got a newbie!”
Brett, the bartender, let out a whoop of approval. “You’ve got the tab tonight, you lucky boy!”
Henry pulled Joe in closer. “Relax, we’re drinking cheap.” He held his hand up, fingers outstretched. “Bottle of the cheap shit! Five glasses!”