Day Three-Hundred-Nine: Hammers are stupid anyway

I have what may amount to a solution, diary. MAY. And while I wish I could claim that it's my OWN solution, which I can't, I'll take whatever I can get.

The mood in camp today was poor. As predicted, I needed to send more than half of the population of the town to June for repairs. Most were too indignant to ask for medical assistance, or too afraid of June to ask, so I made it a command. Surprisingly, all of them complied when it was a command. Go figure, I have authority.

I'd planned on visiting June myself for an answer to my problems shortly before dinner. I was occupied most of the day with putting together the fallen house from the night before, and having a hell of a time persuading my hands that the tools were not weapons. They didn't listen, and so I had to hammer nails into boards using my armpits.

Don't do that, diary. If you ever have to build a house, don't do it like that. It hurts your skin something fierce. Wooden handles chafe. 

I had finished hammering my first board using this method - it only took me three hours to place two nails, go me! - when a shadow fell over my head. I looked up and drank in a hell of a view.

"Hiya, Mr. Mayor," Bora said, kneeling down beside me. "Why do you have a hammer stuck there?"

I shrugged and began to explain. The hammer fell out and smacked me in the toe. I swore instead, rolling onto the grass and clutching my foot.

Bora laughed. She pushed at the board I'd nailed, and it quavered like a jelly custard and fell over. "I think you need somebody else to do this, boss. Or you need t'use your hands."

Sliding carefully away from the hammer, I tried to pick it up. It slipped out of my fingers and plopped onto the grass. Then, waving my other hand like a magician performing a trick, I tried again. No dice. 

"Huh." Bora picked up the hammer, inspected it, set it down again, and stared. "I... I don't get it. How…?"

"Always been like that. Anything remotely like a weapon, it happens" I bit my lip and sat back on the grass. "Frustrating as fuck for a guard, y'know? Damned… DAMNED frustrating." 

Bora laughed and joined me. She grabbed at my left wrist, pulling the hand up to the sun for an inspection. Her subtle touch sent little crackles of excitement down my arm, more cascading across my bones and into my heart every time she moved her fingers. I know I shouldn't be writing about this, diary, but by the gods, it happened, and… yeah. Yeah, it happened.

She dropped my arm. "Well, I still don't get it. But that's okay. We all have our faults, right?"

"Right." I straightened, smoothing my tunic and socks. "Um, so! What can the, ah, mayor do for you?"

She smiled. "Actually, it's more something I can do for you, boss."

I twitched. So many insinuations. "Oh… oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I have a suggestion, actually. Might help you with your problem. Y'know, with the nobles and the peasants killin' each other 'n all. Sound like something you'd wanna hear?"

I did. And she told me. And, by the gods, it's something that I think might work, something that will put the whole housing issue to rest for at least a little while. By the time Bora stood up and went back to check on Robert, I was already formulating a plan - a plan that went into action this evening.

I won't say what it is. I'll keep it stowed in the pocket of my brain for tomorrow. Sounds like a great diary entry. The rest of today… I want to explain something. Or at least get it off my chest.

… chest…

I AM FAITHFUL TO MY WIFE. I love Libby, I love all she's done for me, I love that she's given me TWO BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN, even though one is also a mass-murderer whom I need to rescue, I love that she's willing to stick by such a nincompoop. She deserves better 'n I give her. That's why I want so badly for this town to work. She should have a home.

But…Bora…

There's something about her. Something… so… personal. Intimate, even. I don't know how to explain it… whenever she gets close, or whenever she's laughing or kissing Robert… it's… it's like… hell, I don't know what it's like. It's weird, that's what it is.

I'm sticking with Libby. You be damned sure of that, diary. She's my wife, I love her, 'n that's that. Done deal.

…

DONE FUCKING DEAL.

Plan tomorrow. Didn't have to see June today. All in all, an improvement over the rest of the week.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Mayor