Jesse was exhausted from a long day of doing things outside his job description. The mansion was so seriously understaffed that everyone was doing at least two people’s jobs. On top of that, Klaus didn’t tell management he was going to kidnap someone so they had no time to hire extra help, meaning Jesse was now butler for both Klaus and Magnus.

Magnus declined dinner with his captor that evening, which sent Klaus into a tailspin. He asked to be left alone so he could get drunk. Jesse only cared because he couldn’t retire until he dressed Klaus in his nightshirt for bed. Around nine pm, he headed toward Klaus’ bedroom for this purpose.

Jesse reached deep down for the strength to not quit his job and scraped together enough determination to power through the end of his shift. Josephine intercepted Jesse on his way to Klaus’ bedroom somewhere between the indoor water feature and the fifth smoking lounge. 

Josephine was African, about five foot six, and built with a plus-size feminine physique. She was a preacher’s kid but grew up to be a functioning adult instead of a walking personality disorder. She was remarkably well-adjusted for a woman in her early twenties. She found time to press her apron and wash her bonnet. She’d reduced her emotional breakdowns to three or four times a week, a feat for a woman her age. Josephine didn’t know how a budget worked, so she squirreled her savings inside her mattress and refused to count or spend it. Her room was directly over the vent for the big oven, so she smelled wholesome and vaguely bread-like.

Jesse and Josephine worked together too long to still have healthy boundaries. They spent more than forty hours a week together for almost ten years. They hated and loved each other as much as they hated and loved their job. Jesse and Josephine trauma-bonded over the long hours and endless carousel of supervisors. They could, and frequently did, read each other’s minds. Josephine would always be a trainee in Jesse’s eyes because she started six months after him. Every time he explained something she already knew, it took years off her life. Josephine told Jesse to his face that he was rude. Jesse called Josephine country even though they grew up in the same town. 

“Klaus fell asleep in the library again,” said Josephine.

Jesse rolled his eyes, “Why does everybody come and get me when this happens? I’m sure half the staff walked past him, how come I have to be the one to drag him back to his room?”

“Because you’re the only one he listens to,” said Josephine.

“Oh, come on!”

“Because you’re the best at it,” she teased. “I’ll save some dinner for you.”

“You better!” Jesse groaned. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

Klaus was face-down underneath the reading table next to the piano. An empty glass was on its side beneath his chair. Some unlucky maid was going to stay up late cleaning rum out of the carpet again. Jesse resisted the urge to grab Klaus by the collar and shake him. Instead, he used the correct combination of loud noises and light touches to politely wake the assassin. 

Klaus had the decency to be honest, “Fell out of the chair again.”

“I know, buddy,” Jesse lifted him to his feet.

Klaus’ bedtime had greater variety in its routine than any other daily ritual. His sobriety dictated how long Jesse could expect his compliance. On this particular evening, Klaus was sober enough to participate but too drunk to resist. It was the intersection of the best possible conditions.

Jesse herded Klaus back to the master bedroom and dumped him into his dressing chair. Klaus' eyes were too heavy to focus, so he stared at the area immediately surrounding his butler.

Jesse walked into the closet, “I think you can tell I’m upset!”

“Sorry I drank too much,” Klaus slurred.

Jesse tossed a wadded-up nightshirt onto the dressing stand. The stand caught the fabric and wobbled but did not knock over, “I’m about to quit over this kidnapping!”

Klaus smelled himself by accident and swerved in the chair. He needed a bath, but his butler wanted to go to sleep. The red wine and rum would ferment in his skin until morning. “I’m sorry, Jesse.”

Jesse smacked through the toiletries on the boudoir, “I’m uncomfortable with this whole situation. Suddenly, I’m the hostage butler? Like, do you understand how messed up that is?”

Klaus stared at his bedroom ceiling. He drooled a bit.

“I don’t think I’m overreacting, by the way,” said Jesse.

Klaus half laughed- half coughed. He became fixated on the different directions he could roll his neck. 

“I am a butler, not a kidnapping accomplice!” said Jesse. “I didn’t sign up for all this mercenary stuff!”

“Assassin stuff,” Klaus corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“Mercenary during wartime, assassin in peacetime,” Klaus slurred. “Different jobs.”

Jesse stooped before Klaus on the floor, “Lift up your foot, Sir? There we go.”

Klaus slid his foot out of the boot, “You’re the best, Jesse.”

“Also, spying on your captive is not part of my job description,” said Jesse.

“Did you find out if Magnus has a girlfriend?”asked Klaus.

Jesse wrestled with the lacing on Klaus’ thigh-high assassin boots, “I asked him while I changed him into his nightshirt. He didn’t suspect anything. He said he does not have a girlfriend. ”

Klaus tried to sound sober. It was his regular voice, but deeper and more slurred, “Did you believe him when he said he didn’t have a girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, I believed him. He started crying about it after I asked,” said Jesse.

Klaus leaned back in the chair, “He’s a jerk. Great body, though.”

“I mean, I guess,” said Jesse. “If you’re into that.”

“Jerks? I could be.”