You gotta do something

Peter was coming to terms with the sheer variety of Fae in this tiny part of London. Some he didn't recognise at all; some he'd thought of as the humans' wild fancy. The group he and Elmwood were visiting at the moment were squat, ugly bipeds with grey skin with a sheen that reminded him of swamp mud.

Peter sidled up to one of them whilst Elmwood spoke with a cluster of the creature's colleagues.

"So, how's it going?" he asked.

The creature poked him in the chest with a sausage of a finger. "When you gonna do something?" he asked.

"Sorry?"

"When you gonna do something?" he repeated, accenting the question with another poke. "We pay you the subs, when you gonna do something?"

"Hey, easy. This is my first day, okay?"

"He needs to do something. We pay our subs."

"Okay. I can understand that. What do you want him to do? Tell me. Maybe I can bend his ear."

"Something."

"Give me a clue here, fella. Something like what?"

"Stop them doing stuff. They keep doing stuff and it ain't fair."

"The humans, you mean?"

The chest-poker turned his head and spat on the floor. Peter took that as a yes.

"But how?"

The creature furrowed its brow. "How what?"

"How do we stop them doing stuff?"

"Yeah, he got to stop them doing stuff. It's not fair. They keep doing stuff to us, and it ain't fair. You gotta make them respect us, you know? Show them they can't just do stuff and we don't do nothing. If he don't do nothing, nothing gets done, you know?"

"That's true. An erudite argument and a cogent summary, right enough."

"Right." He gave Peter a chest poke. Peter tried to bat it away but the finger had the inevitability of continental drift. "You gotta do something, or people will do something, if they don't stop doing stuff."

"Peter?"

Peter turned with a wave of relief. A fairy stood in the doorway.

"You Peter?"

Peter glanced around the room. Surely no one else could claim ownership of a name like that.

"I'm Peter," he confirmed.

"Creteus wants you."

Elmwood looked round. "Creteus wants us?"

"Just him," said the fairy. "Now."

--------------------------------------------

Creteus smiled as Peter entered the lockup.

"Peter," he said. "We have a crisis."

"Do we, now."

"Indeed. The proprietor of the Lion and the Lamb."

"Bob?"

"Bob, indeed. What's he like?"

"He's okay. He's a mate. Bit sarcastic, but he just thinks that's funny. He doesn't have anything against us, if that's what you mean. He doesn't take any shit, but he doesn't take it from his kind either. The Ministry hate him, if that's any indication. Yeah, he's a good enough fella, if you're short of someone to drink with."

"And he runs a fae bar."

"Well, it's sort of a hybrid, you know? People --" Peter cursed himself silently. "I mean, humans drink there too. Mostly hippies and sightseers."

"Hippies and sightseers?"

"You know. Humans who want to hug us as well as dolphins and tourists who want to stare at fairies and ask stupid questions."

"We're not zoo animals, Peter."

"No, no, right enough. But he stocks a few Irish whiskeys. You'd be surprised how many pubs only have Scotch."

"Is he respectful of the Fae, though?"

Peter frowned. "Respectful? Not sure you could say that. Like he doesn't touch his forelock and call you sir, but he doesn't treat you any different to anyone else. And he has a fairy working for him."

Creteus nodded, pursing his lips. "And I heard a rumour he's Ministry."

"Bob? No. Not anymore, anyway. Yeah, I heard he used to be, but he quit. That's why they don't like him. The Ministry, I mean. There's a right bastard in the Ministry, hate's Bob's guts, truth to tell."

"Is that so? So why would he invite the Ministry into the pub?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's true. All the humans left and then the Ministry swooped in and questioned every Fae in the place, and Bob just stood back and let them."

"He let them? Seriously?"

Creteus shrugged. "Shall we go see?"