James Moriarty - Humble Bartender?
The Spider's Thread. A Victorian style drinking hole located out of the way amid the twists and turns of the streets that made up the more night life side of the city. A perfect place for anyone, provided they were legal, could enjoy some hard drinks, and relax. The rules were simple. Leave your weapons at the door, and forget your troubles. What that meant to the Servants who no doubt frequented it...no Noble Phantasms. The last thing anyone wanted was for an anti-fortress Phantasm to go off during a drunken brawl and destroy the establishment. Those were the rules laid down by the propertier, a one James Moriarty, the legendary criminal kingpin of the Sherlockian novels.
It would no doubt confuse more than one, to see the infamous professor by day, criminal consultant by night to be settled in a bar of all places, running it, but it was a way to make some money "cleanly," while also acting as a cover for other more...illicit activities. After all, even in a place like Fusang, James Moriarty had to be himself. While there was no solid proof, word on the street in the right places would tell anyone that some thought the "Caster," who clearly wasn't an ordinary one, had his threads everywhere. Whether or not this was true, or just the esteemed professor using urban legends to his advantage just like a time before would remain a mystery to all but the most astute of people.
Given it was daytime, Archer found himself able to relax, and take it easy. His master, of whom only he knew the full identity of, got to enjoy themselves in their own way, while the gentlemanly professor taught makeshift classes on mathematics during the day to those interested, and more at night. After all, with that dreadful Holmes nowhere to be seen, James could actually enjoy himself. Though admittedly...sometimes he wished his arch-nemesis was present, but he wouldn't say it out loud, not if it meant giving the other servant the pleasure.
Really though, he looked the part of humble bartender, as the elder wiped a table down, cleaning up after a random drunk had puked all over the fine wood, a faint grimace hidden under his mustache. Sometimes he hated being summoned into an elder body, while that good for nothing detective got to run around in a perfect young body. The nerve! Oh well, he'd worry about that later. It was almost time for a few servants to come in and play cards. Apparently, Go Fish was the preferred betting method, rather than Poker. Oh well. Now, at least, it was quiet, no Sherlock Holmes to interrupt his plans...right?
The Wizard of Menlo Park
As the last bus of field trippers pulled away from the small park that had become his grounds along with his workshop, Edison couldn't help but let out a roaring laugh, the lion headed Caster enjoying the praise and adoration showered upon him by all the children. Each time he got to recreate the discovery of his light bulb, to showing off his inventions to the gasps of stunned students, fed his happiness. And only encouraged his horrible work habits. With a turn on his heel, the unparalleled genius, that grand pioneer who took the work of others and turned them into profitable mass marketable ideas, strode back towards the front door of his grand patent factory, chuckling to himself. If only that dastardly fool Tesla could see him, Edison had done it yet again, he was the superior man! Though, for a moment, as he stood outside the doorway, he almost wished another servant had been summoned. Oh well, perhaps Ford would appear one day. After all, the even younger man had been Edison's pupil, and look at what that innovator had done! The King of Production Lines would be a suitable title for him! Ah, but only Edison was worthy of being the King of Inventors!
As soon as he got inside, Edison turned his attention to his latest project, and nearly fell over, his work habits having cost him more than a few hours of sleep recently. His poor master was terrible at stopping the genius from overworking himself. But there was so much to do! Why, he just needed a bit more, he needed to perfect this project...a massive electrical sign with his face that would go up over the park entrance, and light up at night. Without a world's fair to prepare for, Edison had all the time in the world to light his park up, and make it the greatest attraction in the entire city. Even that pompous Red Saber would be jealous of his work! He'd show them all!
What he wasn't aware of was that almost all of what he was thinking in his head, was being said outloud. Bellowing almost. To the casual listener, it would sound like the ravings of a madman, as he yelled about "TESLA SUCKS!" and the like. Some things never change, eh?
//If I hammed it too much up, whoops.
