The morning was gray as the one before. Fog gathered in the distant mountains, dancing around the pines, whispering upon the stone roofs of the Auchtermuchty central town. Franz noticed dry sunlight peeking from behind the thick clouds. He smiled. 

He decided to dedicate his morning off to himself. He survived a tragic experience and an even more tragic morning. Officers questioned him for hours. Poor Clara had to make tea all morning, an occasional break when one of the officers complimented her brewing skills or questioned her as well. 

The two had made a promise to not reveal any information about the night prior. They had been spooked enough by the man's ambiguity. If his message was true, and he would return, they preferred he return without a more sinister reason such as the removal of a witness. It helped that Clara was a bashful individual and had difficulty communicating with anyone. Franz played the tired old man card. Things were looking up.

Franz caught a glimpse of himself in a store mirror. His raven hair had been combed neatly under a black top hat. He wore a porcelain white shirt beneath a paisley vest, covered by a black coat. He looked more well-kept than most days, a detail he had made sure of. The only thing he couldn't change was the gray, constantly frowning face that stared back at him in the mirror. No matter how many coats he wore nor how many hours he slept, he would always seem ghastly. He ripped his gaze away and pushed open the door, hoping Mr. Marner wouldn't notice.

.                                       .                                                    .                                                      .

"Mr. Schwarz!" 

Franz's heart warmed at the jovial tune his name made on Jack's lips. He was even more elated to see his rosy face smiling from behind a rack of half sewn coats. 

"Hello again, Mr. Marner." He tipped his hat in his direction.

Jack pushed the coats aside and pried himself off the floor. Franz noticed that Jack was just a few centimeters taller than him. He shook his hand.

"I was worried, sir. I thought you were dead for sure." He placed his hands on his hips, leaning onto one of his legs.

Franz rubbed the back of his neck, "I thought I was too. But, all is well now. I'm in good health and Clara had but a small scare. Clara, poor creature, she has been making tea all morning for the detectives."

Jack gave a sympathetic look towards him and made his way into the main entrance of the shop. He ducked underneath the desk and fiddled with spools of thread and fabric. Franz politely stood on the other side of the door.

"Is it a busy day, Mr. Marner?" He asked.

Jack gave a weary sigh, "Quite the opposite. I'm mostly covering for Mr. Tillie."

"Mr. Tillie? I never thought I'd live to see the day that man took a holiday."

"Not a holiday at all, sir." Jack's sweaty face peeped up like a little duck, "He's ill."

Franz paused, "Ill?"

Jack nodded and pulled up a box filled with fabrics and threads, "Surely you know about David Walker's kid? I think Tillie's got the same thing. All hot and heavy. I worry about him." 

Franz followed him to his small workspace in the deepest corner of the shop. It was littered with countless papers with sketches on them. Franz lifted one from the ground that caught his eye. It was a well-drawn portrait of a young girl, her hair in ringlets. Franz felt a foreign heat inside his chest.

Jack noticed the picture and smiled, "That's my sister, Abigail. Isn't she lovely."

The heat subsided and Franz responded calmly, " she is."

He wasn't lying when he said the young girl was beautiful. She looked around Clara's age. Her eyes were a lighter shade than her brother's, her lips and plump as his. Franz wondered if all of Jack's relatives were as attractive as him. He observed as the young man moved aside his chalks and papers from his worktable and spread a fabric across the wood surface. It was a deep rouge patterned with golden embroidery. Franz figured it belonged to the dress of one of the various ladies that resided in the town.

Jack wiped his sweaty brow and focused his attention back to Franz. 

"So. What do you need, sir?"

Franz locked his knees, "I didn't need anything, Mr. Marner. I think I just wanted to make you were alright after that night. I also wanted to apologize. My behavior that night was...embarrassing, to say the least."

Jack chuckled and leaned back onto his desk, "Don't apologize, Mr. Schwarz. To be completely honest, I was glad you and I spoke. I'm awfully lonely, I could use a friend."

A small budding rose bloomed within Franz. A friend? Almost no one had ever put 'friend' and 'Franz' in the same category. He was more than flattered, he was elated. But he kept his excitement at an appropriate level.

"I think I can sympathize. With the loneliness, I mean. And. Well, the friend part as well." Franz spluttered discombobulated. 

He had been feeling that way for quite a long time. Whether it was about his feelings towards the charming Jack Marner, or in some cases Clara. He was ashamed to be brutally honest. He was well aware of his deeply buried intentions with Mr. Marner but guzzled the truth down with a barrel of "you simply admire him". He felt those shameful thoughts creep into his head when his gaze regressed to his lips. He caught himself and tore his gaze to the floor.

"Would you like to see what I'm working on, Mr. Schwarz-er. Should I call you by your first name, then? Since we're friends and all?" Jack motioned for him to come closer.

Franz nodded and shuffled to his messy workstation. The rouge fabric became a clearer shape. A stomacher, he concluded. He had read about them before in a book. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship that was put into its embroidery. He could almost imagine Jack huddled over that very table, pulling away at strings, staying late for something he wouldn't even be given credit for.

"It's a work of art. " Franz commented.

He felt Jack inch closer. He could feel his breath on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't call it that. I'm hardly an artist." He scoffed.

Franz shook his head, gently. If he turned, he was almost sure he would be whiskers away from Jack's rosy face. 

"I disagree, Jack. This, this detail is all the workings of a creative mind. Surely you must recognize your talent."

Jack was quiet for a moment. 

"You really think so?" His voice was soft. 

Franz swallowed hard, "Yes. I think so."

He regrettably turned too far and was met with the all-too-close Jack Marner. His breath stopped along with Franz's. A second passed, and Franz remained frozen. His eyes glanced nervously back and forth between Jack's unbreaking stare and parted lips. He had no idea what he was to do at that moment. In a second, he would back away and return home.  In a second he could break the burning tension and smile, wave goodbye, and head home. All his options for escape had been meticulously planned in that second, he just had to choose. The ever prepared Franz, constantly planning his days, his movements, his words. This moment was but a needle in a haystack of uncomfortable situations he could simply step away from. But, as their eyes met, and his heart was loud enough for even the Queen of England to hear, he leaned closer. Reaching forward, he dared place his lips upon Jack. 

For a moment, he felt years of constrained desires released into a heaping mess of loose thread upon the floor. Thread that he didn't care to roll back onto a spool again. He liked Jack, that he knew for many years. But the warm touch from Jack's hand upon his confirmed his attraction to him. And for a moment it felt like all his worries were gone, he felt at peace. Until Jack ripped away and grabbed his face in disgust.

"You...you're sick." He gasped.

The walls collapsed around him, "But you. You looked at me, I thought--it was mutually--"

"I'm not like you. You freak."

Freak. His knees quivered, "Jack, I'm so sorry. I thought--"

His face felt hot, his brain was fuzzy. He wanted to leave, he needed to.

Jack paused a moment. His eyes drifted to the floor. Franz noticed a nervous fidget in his hands. He couldn't have imagined it. He was sure he had felt him inch closer, melting onto him as just as he did. Or perhaps, he was hoping he had?

Jack grounded himself, a deep and unfitting scowl painted across his heated face, "Know one should know this."

Franz shook his head, "No, of course not. I won't visit you anymore, I will keep myself quiet--"

"Leave town." Jack interrupted, "leave town, or I will tell them about your...interests. Then they will lock you up."

Franz's throat was clogged with his breath. His fingers trembled at the thought of the town--Peter knowing who he was. He stumbled back, his eyes were stinging with rising tears.

"You, you wouldn't do that. Jack." He choked.

Jack turned away, his finger pointed to the door. "Out. Now."

Franz stumbled his way out. A faint metallic smell in his nose, a glimmering print on paper in his mind.