Dozens of men covered in dirt and filth exiting the mouth of the mine. Some half dragging themselves, some literally being dragged, and the younger ones swaggering out. All however, ready for a drink.

You weren’t a miner. A few days a week your boss sent a handful of workers from the brothel to lounge outside of the mines.

Normally you refused, but you were bored and recently one particular man had caught your eye. The biggest, strongest, and roguishly handsome.

You couldn’t help but be intrigued by the dark haired man. He never never gawked, never took up any of their offers. Apparently too busy planning protests and saving up for a bar.

Today though he looks over, catching the briefest moment of eye contact before you both look away, and then he’s gone. Walking off with a ravin haired man.

That night you layed in your private room at the brothel. You had said you wanted no visitors. You could afford such a luxury since you were one of the more sought after workers, which also made it possible for you to be more choosy with who and how you serviced.

Your boss Babette came in, saying there was an important first time guest for you to take, ordering and not asking. You agreeing and in walked the man from the mines.

You get him on the couch, trying to go through with your usual routine. After refusing to bite with any of the casual passes you were making towards him you two just end up talking. He was sweet, kind, a bit rough around the edges but gentlemanly enough, and a charmer. One minute he was talking about the protests he’d lead for the undercity and how he was saving for a bar, the next he had you agreeing to get a drink with him.

It was something you never did, yet here you were, in front of an old run-down building. He looked up at it with a fond grin “This is it. This is gonna be my place.”

He laughs when he sees the unconvinced look on your face. “Come on” he nudges you with his shoulder. He leads you inside, holding open a board so you could slip past