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HC: Handyman | Ch. 179 - Set Up
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 17:48:12 +0000 UTCThe train began to slow as Providence came into view. From the train, it didn’t look too different from Boston. Brick buildings, faded murals, and the shimmer of tech woven into the old skyline. Jack gathered his things.
He stepped off the train and into the morning air, pulling his hood against the wind.
As Jack spotted Marie on the platform, he slowed down. She wasn’t alone.
Someone was standing next to her—a girl around his age. She had a sharp, angular face set in a permanent scowl, arms crossed as if she’d rather be anywhere else.
Definitely relatives. It can’t be… Is that her niece?
With each step he took toward them, his suspicions became even stronger. Both had the same blonde hair, though the younger girl wore hers loose, cascading past her shoulders. She was taller, too, by just enough to notice.
I can’t believe she went ahead and did anyway, Jack thought bitterly.
His ears warmed, and his stomach turned.
Still, he forced a smile as he approached. “Hi, Marie.”
“Jack!” Marie grinned and slapped him—square on the back, hard enough to jolt him forward a step. It was the kind of greeting you’d expect from a teammate on the football field. “This is my niece Joanna.”
“Jack. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Joanna replied flatly, not offering a handshake. Just a look. Cool and distant.
Marie clapped her hands. “Well, shall we get going? We’ve got a lot to do and not a lot of time.”
They took the escalator down. As they descended, Jack asked Marie. “So... is Johanna the master bone carver I’m supposed to meet?”
Marie raised an eyebrow, amused. “What? No. Don’t be silly. She doesn’t even play the game. Right, Joanna?”
“Right,” Joanna said drily.
“My car’s in the shop, so I had to ask her for a ride,” Marie said, feigning innocence. It was a decent performance—but Jack wasn’t buying it.
Please. Her car probably works just fine.
Great. Whatever slim hope Jack had that this wasn’t a forced setup just evaporated. And from the way Joanna was standing—with her arms still crossed and her expression locked somewhere between boredom and passive hostility—she wasn’t exactly thrilled either.
This is going to be a long day.
*
Jack sat in the backseat of Joanna’s car, fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his knee. Outside the window, Providence rolled by. He tried to latch onto something—an odd building, a street performer, a weirdly shaped tree. Anything that could draw attention away from the awkward atmosphere in the car.
Nothing.
He glanced toward Marie, who sat up front in a relaxed sprawl, humming off-key to the tune playing low on the radio. She wasn’t paying attention to him. Or Joanna. She was just ignoring them both.
You’d think that if her big plan was to set them up, she’d at least try to spark a conversation. Toss in a prompt, maybe. Play the middlewoman. Instead, she seemed to be doing the opposite. Was this her way of forcing Jack to swallow this pill? A way to make him talk or otherwise stay trapped in this awkward silence until the car ride ended?
Jack cleared his throat. “Rob called me.”
Marie kept humming, pretending she hadn’t heard him.
“The Slayer found him out.”
Her gaze snapped to the rearview mirror, eyes narrowing just slightly. “No!”
“Yeah. They ambushed him. Now they’re camping him. It’s... bad.”
Marie pressed her lips together. For a moment, she just stayed silent.
“And somehow,” Jack added, “the Slayer found out we’re cousins. I can’t walk around Embersgate anymore. IronIre will see me and Snowy coming from a mile away!”
“Yeah. That’s... not good.” Marie exhaled hard. “The timing is terrible too. We’re going to have to scrap everything we planned yesterday. Tsk. I hate that Slayer kid.”
“Marie, I want to help Rob,” Jack said. “He’s only in this mess because of us. I have to help him.”
“I know.” She looked over at Joanna, who kept her eyes on the road with the focus of a rideshare driver. Silent, distant. Jack noticed the faintest twitch of a smile on her lips.
Marie leaned back with a little grin. “You’re a loyal guy, Jack. One of the good ones. I admire that. Really. It’s a wonderful quality to have in a friend… Or a boyfriend.”
The compliment came heavy, and Joanna’s jaw twitched in response. She didn’t look over, but the temperature in the car seemed to lower by a few degrees.
Jack shifted in his seat, sensing he was wading into thin ice. He had to change the conversation. He was dying in here. “Anyway, who’s this friend of yours? The one who’s going to teach me about bone carving?”
“You’ll see soon,” Marie said, tone shifting to something more playful. “We’re almost there.”
The car finally pulled up to a quiet street lined with narrow houses and timeworn porches. The neighborhood had a quiet charm. There were mismatched fences, hand-painted mailboxes, and a tired cat stretching out on a sun-warmed windowsill. Somewhere nearby, wind chimes clinked lazily in the breeze.
Marie turned to Joanna. “Want to come with us?”
Joanna shook her head without looking back. “Not really, no. Just call me when you need a ride back.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go, Jack.”
Jack stepped out and watched Joanna’s car glide down the street and vanish around the corner. Somehow, the 15-minute car ride had felt longer than the two-hour train trip. Just as he turned, a sharp jab landed on his upper arm.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
Marie was already shaking her head, her expression somewhere between exasperated and dramatic betrayal. “I set it up so nicely for you! What’s wrong with you? You couldn’t even ask her a single question? You froze her out like she wasn’t even there.”
Anger flared in Jack’s chest. “I told you I didn’t want you to set me up with anyone!”
“Come on, man. Isn’t she cute?”
His cheeks warmed. “It’s not about looks. She’s good-looking, yeah, but I got out of a relationship not even a month ago. Even if I wanted to date, we didn’t click. There was zero chemistry. Zero empathy. Just awkward silence.”
Marie turned away with an exaggerated sigh, muttering something about rude troglodytes and hopeless cases as she stomped down the walkway. Jack let her go ahead, then sighed and followed. At least she seemed to be dropping the matchmaking crusade—finally.
She stopped at a small house with flaking blue paint and a carved bird hanging above the door. Then she raised a hand and knocked.
Knock! Knock!
They waited.
Jack glanced at the door, then back to Marie. “Is this mysterious bonecarver even home?”
She gave a noncommittal shrug. “Probably in the game. Give him a second to log out and meet us.”
“But you did call ahead, right? Let him know we were coming?”
“Nah. No need.”
She knocked again—firmer this time. After a few seconds, the lock clicked, and the door opened.
A man in his sixties stepped out. His skin was pale, his plentiful hair gone entirely grey. He blinked at them for a moment, then smiled with genuine surprise.
“Well, if it isn’t Marie,” he said, voice warm.
“Hi, Professor Masse. How are you doing?”
Jack raised an eyebrow. Professor?
“Not too bad, thank you. And you?”
“I’m quite alright, thanks. This is Jack—my friend.”
“Hi, Jack,” the man said, offering a hand.
“H-hi,” Jack replied, a little stiff, shaking it.
Professor Masse glanced between the two of them. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“Jack’s my teammate in New Earth. He just hit level 10 in [Butchering] and needs a crash course in bone-carving. I was hoping you could help him out.”
“Of course, dear. Anything for you. Come on in, you two. Do you take tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee,” Jack and Marie said in unison.
Jack followed Marie inside and immediately felt overwhelmed.
The place was... packed. Every surface seemed to carry a piece of art—some delicate, some chaotic. Sculptures lined each step of the stairs like guardians of an ancient temple. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with paintings, sketches, and old photographs in mismatched frames. It smelled like varnish and old books.
Jack leaned toward Marie and whispered, “I’m so confused. Professor? And you said yesterday that he owes you a favor?”
“He used to teach me at art school. Lost his job a few years back. Not much money is going into arts anymore—not when robots and AI can crank out perfect landscapes and portraits. I bumped into him on the street, saw how down he was, and told him about New Earth. Helped him get started. He’s with a good guild now. Doing well.”
That clicked into place. Jack remembered her mentioning art school back when he was trying out the wax resist technique. At the time, he hadn’t thought much of it.
“What did you do in art school?” he asked.
“Sculpting.”
Jack looked at her. It didn’t quite compute. All he’d ever seen was Marie tossing bombs and pulling wild stunts. The image of her quietly shaping clay or carving marble didn’t quite fit.
He didn’t say anything, but she caught the look.
“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t really match the whole grenadier vibe, uh?”
Jack chuckled. “Not exactly.”
They made it into the kitchen, a cozy space that smelled faintly of roasted coffee and aged wood. Professor Masse busied himself at the counter, brewing a fresh pot of coffee with practiced ease. Jack, meanwhile, kept wandering—his eyes catching on carved animal figurines perched atop the cabinets, a painted mural curling along the ceiling, and even the hand-carved handles on the drawers. Nothing in the house was left untouched by art.
A few minutes later, steamy mugs found their way into their hands.
Professor Masse leaned against the counter, eyes settling on Jack with a curious tilt of the head.
“So, Jack. You want to learn bone carving.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s your background?”
“E-excuse me?”
“I mean,” he said, gently swirling his mug, “do you have any experience with carving? Painting? First time working with your hands, or are you coming in with some kind of foundation?”
Jack hesitated. “I don’t have much experience with working with my hands outside the game,” he admitted. “All the crafting I’ve done was in New Earth. I guess... pottery is the most artistic thing I’ve picked up. I also do rope weaving, a bit of beekeeping, and I’m also a bard—but none of that really involves carving.”
Professor Masse raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and shot a glance toward Marie as if silently asking is this kid for real?
“He has a hidden class, Professor,” Marie offered, sipping her coffee. “He can pick up more minors than the usual player.”
“Ah!” The old man’s eyes lit up. “That makes much more sense.”
Marie gave Jack a sideways glance. “And don’t let his modesty fool you. He makes some pretty incredible stuff. He’s got some real talent.”
Jack blinked, caught off guard. Marie didn’t usually hand out compliments—especially not unprompted. Well, the one in the car had been a sorry exception. But this time, there wasn’t a trace of teasing or insincerity in her voice—just quiet pride. She was bragging about him like a proud teammate. The sting from her earlier matchmaking antics began to fade.
Professor Masse turned back to Jack, and the change in his expression was subtle but unmistakable. Something behind his eyes sharpened—a flicker of interest.
“Real talent, huh?” he mused. “And that praise coming from you, Marie...”
He set his mug down and flexed his fingers, the joints popping softly as he cracked his knuckles. Then he gave Jack a look—half assessment, half challenge.
“I haven’t taught anyone in a long time,” he said. “Didn’t think I’d be in the mood to, honestly. But this...” He chuckled, studying Jack like a block of raw material waiting to be chiseled. “You come with a recommendation I can’t ignore. This could be fun.”
Marie raised an eyebrow. “Careful there, Professor. He’s talented, yeah—but he can be a bit stubborn sometimes. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”
Jack grimaced. Is she calling me stubborn? That’s the pot calling the kettle black!
Professor Masse seemed unfazed, though. “Even better! Wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”
He clapped his hands together, already walking out of the kitchen. “Come on! Bring your mugs—we’ll head into the workshop. Let’s see what you’re made of, boy.”
Comments
jiecut
Crafting in real life!
ByLAWphoto
matchmakers are the worst! LOL small correction: "Professor Masse seemed unphased, though. " phase: a distinct period or stage in a series of events or a process of change or development faze: to disturb or disconcert someone
