While the butler would not directly betray a confidence or attempt to force advice on his employer, he was aware that if the situation got much worse, he would have to act within his powers to intervene.
Glancing around the coffee shop, Beeker noted with some satisfaction the absence of black uniforms. While he was always ready to listen to the Legionnaires’ problems and complaints with a sympathetic ear, he also relished the occasional quiet moment to himself.
He was about to select a booth by himself when a lone figure at a back table caught his eye and he changed his course in that direction.
“Good morning,” he said warmly, pulling out a chair for himself. “Mind if I join you?”
Dark eyes rose from the book they had been reading and stared coldly at him from a chiseled ebony face.
“Excuse me? Do you know me?”
The chill in the voice surpassed that in the look, presupposing the answer for the question even as it was being asked.
“Only by reputation,” the butler said, easing into the chair. “I simply thought I’d take this opportunity to meet you in person. Unless I’m mistaken, you’re Laverna, currently in the employment of Maxine Pruet.”
The slender woman leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles and folding her arms across her chest.
“And who does that make you?”
“Ah. Apparently I lack your notoriety.” The butler smiled, unruffled by Laverna’s closed body language or the implied challenge in her voice. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Beeker. I am employed by Willard Phule-or Captain Jester, if you prefer-in a capacity not unlike your own, though I imagine with substantially less input in financial matters.”