Because Elysif was on the first floor all we had to do was go up the stairs. There was also another flat on the second floor but it was just used for storage. Due to this Elysif’s place was much larger than ours. I really wondered if the Table gave shitty pay or if Scott just spent it all on booze? I will probably never know. Of course, I was just happy that I didn’t have to walk too far, my intestines hurt like crazy still even though they were technically healed. I didn’t realize it when Elysif was chasing me but I was in a lot of pain. She did give me a lot of pain relievers after I kept whining about it though, telling me that it would hurt like a bitch in a few hours. She also said that if it did start to hurt I should start drinking heavily as she wasn’t going to be giving me any more pain relievers for a while. When we walked into Scott’s place I was greeted with the same couch that I slept on earlier and on it a pile of sheets, blankets, and pillows. 

“What are these?” I asked.

“They're yours. I bought them for you to use on the bed in that other room but it’s coming out of your pay.” Scott said with a crass but somewhat thoughtful tone. It felt distant but I couldn’t figure out why.

“Aren’t there blankets and pillows on the bed already?” I asked, wondering why he had got them for me.

“There are but they are covered in stains and I don’t even know how old they are anymore.” He said walking over to his desk and reaching for a bottle of booze underneath it. Chugging some of it from the bottle, Scott let out a refreshing “ah” Before pouring some into his flask. He has a serious drinking problem. Have AA meetings been invented yet? I don’t know but after filling his flask he went into his bedroom and I heard the sound of him almost body slamming the bed.

“I see.” I myself was also tired so I grabbed the pile of pillows, blanket, and sheets to make my bed. After making the bed I laid down for the first proper sleep since I had arrived. There aren't going to be any crazy old people, people getting stabbed, psycho doctors, or rats waking me up.

* * *

A few days had passed by with nothing notable to mention. Scott has been giving me combat training in the afternoons and then we scout out Whitechapel until four in the morning. It took me a few days to get used to the new schedule but it’s not that bad. As for my training… Scott is near impossible to hit even when he is drunk. Which is all the time. It’s like he uses that martial art skill from the movies that only drunk people can use. Either way, my training is just me getting my ass kicked for a while and then me teaching myself how to control my knife when I’m alone.

Our patrols around Whitechapel are all-around boring. The only thing we have to worry about are drunks looking for a fight and prostitutes trying to get in our pants. Of course, you show them a badge, and they back off even if it isn’t a police badge. The Table did send me a badge of my own a day or two after we started this routine and Scott showed me his. They looked the same as both were made of silver and said in bold letters at the top “Table Officer''. The only major difference was that while mine had one star at the bottom, Scott’s had four. There was enough room for five stars in total on each badge.

“What are the stars for?” I asked.

“They show your rank. You only have one star because you just started while I have four because I have been with the Table a while.” Scott explained.

“How do you move up in rank?” I wondered out loud.

“You could either be with the Table for ten years in order to move up one star or you could do something that catches the eyes of a higher up. You could also be shady and claim you can’t do something in the field because you have too low of a rank and they promote you in order to get the job done. I used to be five stars along with my wife but that was a long time ago before she died.” Scott said with a solemn look that had me pitying him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you to think about something as sad as that.” I said apologetically.

“Don’t be, I love thinking of my wife. She made me happy and it reminds me of a time when I didn’t want to forget everything.” Scott said with a rather fake smile.

“I heard somewhat about what happened from Isabell, that either your wife or your partner was killed by a werewolf.” I said, bringing up what Isabell had told me before she died.

He stopped and looked at me. “It was both my wife and my partner. They are one and the same. I know where this conversation is going to go so let’s stop.” He said sternly, continuing down the road with a quicker stride. That was the only notable thing I could get out of him at the time but it was something at least.