A nod and grunt was all he would reply with in her presence. Mack watched the young woman go, guilt gnawed on him like fleas on an old dog. "Damn..." He went on with what he knew was the right thing. In an unprecedented move, he stormed over to his workshop and turned off his 'OPEN' sign. On the well-worn desk with deep set oil stains sat a direct line to his supervisor. Mack pushed the lip of his cap back and sat in his chair with a sigh. He picked the receiver. One click, two clicks, three cli--<br/>"Mack? Oh shit, you only call when..."<br/>"Calm yourself. I'm not reporting a scrap."<br/>"Thank the Lord! What can I do for you then?"<br/>"...Well Clancy, it's like this..."<br/><br/>By the time Beauregard had settled into the small room adjoined to his Mistress's, little more than the late trains could be heard. However in his present state of mind it was enough to keep him from hunkering down to bed. The more he thought about that loud mouthed mechanic delaying Miss Andler's important plans, the angrier he became. It was rare that a gentleman such as himself would allow fury to drive him but tonight would be one of those times. He debated going in only his shirtsleeves, the thought had been instantly rebuked. It would make his Mistress look bad and as a loyal butler he would rather die. In no time Beauregard dressed, took one more protective glance in on Miss Andler, and left for the station.<br/><br/>Mack could barely keep his eyes open. He'd done it. His muscles ached, he was covered with soot and sweat, his throat felt full of coal dust, and his stomach lurched from hunger. He'd done it nonetheless. Two days worth of work finally done in twelve hours. Mack had replaced the boiler and repaired some electrical wiring that had been frayed. He closed the boiler door and fell back onto the cool smooth deck. He closed his eyes. Upon opening them, Beauregard was standing over him looking like an angry beanpole in a tuxedo. "Shit. Old man, I haven't got the energy nor the time to mess with you. You can calm yourself anyways..." Mack slowly rose to his feet and grabbed his cap and toolbox. He yawned, giving a wave to the older butler in passing. "It's done. Your wee noblewoman can get it now if she damn well wants. She's still got a wedding to attend, aye?"<br/><br/>Beauregard stood speechless for several moments. Even in the dim yellow light of the closed station, he could see the mechanic had done excellent work. He also saw the bags under his eyes. For the first time in several hours the older man smiled warmly. "You worked all night. There is no way Miss Andler would allow her mechanic to report on duty so disheveled. As your supervisor nor will I. Go home and right yourself then meet me at Gallagher Height Hotel in six hours. We'll be expecting you."<br/><br/>The next morning a clean, refreshed Mack stood outside the hotel gate. He dressed in a blue button down, grey slacks and vest with a matching cap. No one could force him into formal wear even if they paid him. If they didn't like his clothes, too bad. Promises were promises whether he dressed fancy or not. Several minutes passed, he readjusted the pack on his back and gave a civil nod towards Beauregard when he finally exited. That meant Miss Andler wouldn't be far behind. Joy of hackin' joys.