<em>Bert: October 15th 2011 11:12 PM- Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/>Business usually picked up around eleven at The Gulch, tonight was no exception. Chuck came in and made nervous conversation for a few minutes. Bert found it comical sometimes how people felt like they needed to make nice with him before they could go about their business. It wasn’t like his job was quality control, and if it was, Chuck would probably have cause for being nervous. As it was, there was no reason for it, as long as the money was all there, Bert couldn’t care less.<br/><br/>Not ten minutes after Chuck dropped his deposit and made his way down to the Basement, Miss Mary entered. Bert marked her arrival at 11:30 and smiled warmly when she said his name.<br/><br/>“Evenin’ Miss Mary.” Bert smiled, allowing the nervous beauty to squeeze his hand before passing off a stack of bills. “Go on ahead to Number Two, Miss Mary. I’ll send somebody in to see you in just a few minutes.”<br/><br/>As Mary made her way to the back of the building, Miss Ruby made her way to Number Four to presumably get set up for Chuck. This too was noted in the ledger once Chuck followed. Amethyst was on Mary’s heels before long and for the moment it seemed that all of the clients were taken care of, or at least on their way to being “Taken Care Of”.<br/><br/>Just as Bert heard the door on Number Four close, the front door opened. The youngster that stepped inside wasn’t a client that Bert recognized, at least not from The Gulch. The youngster looked about as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair shop as he walked into the room. Even though Bert didn’t recognize him, it didn’t stop the youth from trying to place where he knew Bert from. Bert just shook his head and wagged a finger at him.<br/><br/>“No you don’t.” Bert’s deep voice insisted, not exactly hostile, but definitely not flexible on this matter. “In here, nobody uses real names. And even if you do know me from out there, you ain’t supposed to say so in here. Can you live with that?”<br/><br/>“First, you gotta go talk to Mr. Harris. He’ll get you fixed up with a… a-” Damnit, what was the word? “Suitor-Name. Then once you’re registered with him, I’ll get you on the books and book you a room. Go on down to the basement, Doc will point you in the right direction.”<br/><br/>Bert wasn’t stupid, just simple and a little slow with words. He kept remarkable books (in spite of his terrible penmanship), taught by his son and years of running his own business; but without a proper education, big words like pseudonym sometimes tongue tied him.<br/><br/>“Go on, it’s okay.” Bert assured the youngster, motioning him toward the stairs and smiling his best attempt at a reassuring smile.<br/><br/>No sooner did Bert point the new kid in the right direction, than Mister Phil arrived. Bert greeted him in passing as he made his way down to the bar after wishing Bert a good evening. There was a problem though.<br/><br/>“Um, Phil…<strong>Phil!</strong>” Bert called after him, making his voice ring through every corner of the house, this was his serious voice. “You’re forgetting something important.”<br/><br/>As Mister Phil came back, looking more than a little bit nervous, Bert held out his hand. Bert’s open palm made conspicuous by the absence of Phil’s deposit.<br/><br/>“What’s wrong with this picture?”