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* Bluestar has requested, through "official" channels, a meeting with Dawn, at a place of Dawn's choosing, at a time of Dawn's choosing. Aside from that, his missive is bare of any sort of details, helpful or otherwise. <Dawn> ::After some thought, Dawn responded to Bluestar's message with the address of a dockside restaurant, a greasy fish-or-fish place that generally serves longshoremen and dockhands. The time he names is toward the end of the lunch rush. Interestingly, when standing at the door of the place facing outward, one can make out the top of Erdian's Tower over the warehouses and masts.:: * Dawn has secured a table by the wall. He is nursing a mug of weak beer and ignoring a bowl of weaker soup. * Bluestar is courteous enough to arrive at the requested time. He orders and receives a bowl of grey glop that is advertised as fish stew. He works his way over to Dawn's table and sits down opposite him. "I hope this seat wasn't already claimed." * Dawn nods in greeting. "Milord." He glances at the stew and shudders delicately. "I hope you're not planning to actually eat that." <Bluestar> Of course not. I'm going to throw it in the canal on the way home and see how many dead things rise to the surface. <Dawn> ::grins tightly:: Many, I would think. So then... To what do I owe the honor? <Bluestar> ::perfunctorily:: First off, I'm sorry to hear about your recent loss. ::Bluestar doesn't *sound* especially apologetic, but he's not smirking or anything.:: * Dawn grunts acknowledgment. "Aye." <Bluestar> Next. You are aware, I'm sure, that while I don't involve myself in local business, I do subscribe to certain services in order to keep aware of the more important events in the community? <Dawn> ::nods, almost smirking:: You knew about my "loss," didn't you? Half of my own people haven't heard that, yet. <Bluestar> Excellent. I heard then, that one of my alumni was recently involved in an altercation. <Dawn> Mm. ::he takes a sip from his mug:: Jewel? You get any details? <Bluestar> That she survived, relatively unharmed. <Dawn> ::nods:: She did. Bad scare, little bit of dizzy from the gunk they made her breathe, but she was quick enough to call for help. <Bluestar> ::nodding curtly, now that his information has been confirmed:: When her husband, then intended, visited me for the first time at the school, I had but one item I wished to make crystal clear to him. That I would be most upset if any harm befell her as a result of her association with him. <Bluestar> After he passed, and she chose to remain in your company, I made no comment. Word accumulated that you and she were close. I said nothing. Unfortunately, now I find myself in the position that I must say something. Listen closely. I will be. Very. Upset. If any harm befalls her, as a result of her association with you. * Dawn raises his eyebrows, and then grins, shaking his head as he takes a gulp of beer. "Item one. We're not so close as you might've been led to believe. It's a convenient rumor on several fronts, but it's not a true one." <Dawn> Item two. We've tried to protect her. Not for you - but for him. For his memory. But when it came down to it, she fought me. She fought me for the right to risk what *I* would risk, if I could do for us what she does. Believe me, I did not back down willingly. She fought me, and she won. She's earned the right, and the duty, to act as one of us. ::meets Bluestar's eyes steadily:: Catreenia's no sheep. <Bluestar> I really don't care what she's talked you into letting her do. You're trying to protect her? Try harder. She is *special*. She's able to do things that maybe ten people in Cormyr might be one day able to do, if it doesn't drive them mad first. <Dawn> I know that. She's protected, believe me. This incident? ::he shrugs:: I'm not convinced I could've done much more to protect her if I'd been there in person when it started. Someone wants me bad enough to hire Blue. ::he glances at Bluestar briefly:: Who, by the way, is hiring *your* people to do his cleanup for him. I took two of them down, getting her back. You might want to pass the word, back home, that Blue isn't the safest client, just now. * Bluestar arches an eyebrow. "I'll pass the word he's to be... if he shows his face in Waterdeep again, he'll be administered to. I'll pass on any information we remove. Where are the bodies?" <Dawn> I appreciate it. They're in the canals, maybe washed out to sea by now. It's been a few days. The one name I caught was... Jolly? * Bluestar riffles through his memory for a short second. "Ah, yes. An idiot." <Dawn> He didn't strike me as a sparkling wit, no. But we didn't spend a lot of time on the repartee. <Bluestar> If Jolly is the caliber of rabble involved, I'm somewhat more distressed that they even had a partial success. <Dawn> Jolly and his friend, Blue, and some crazy Kara Turian... ::eyes Bluestar with sudden interest:: You know anything about secret societies, in the east? <Bluestar> Not if I can help it. For a nominal fee, I can have some people look into something for you. <Dawn> ::considers, then nods:: All right. I need to find out about a group called the Jin Hu, or Golden Tiger. <Bluestar> Very well. You understand, about Catreenia? That she wants to be where she is, I know. But if harm comes to her, I will be very upset, and things will be done. <Dawn> Aye. I understand. You're going to turn me into a vegetable. Got it. * Bluestar smiles thinly. "I will do whatever I am able to do, for as long as I am able to do it. Thank you for meeting with me." He knocks his bowl of grey gloop onto the floor. The clay bowl cracks, and the gloop holds its shape for a few seconds before acting as a proper liquid. "Alas, my meal is spilt, and I must go find another." <Dawn> ::closes his eyes with a sigh:: Good day, milord. * Angel wanders into the fish place, looking for all the world like no one interesting. He glances around and coughs once into his hand as he walks past someone smoking a smelly corn pipe. Or maybe he saw something that surprised him. In either way, he gets a meal and picks a small shadowy table in which to eat it. Coincidentally, not far from Dawn. * Bluestar stands up and leaves, taking care not to step in the "stew" on the floor. <Dawn> ::after a long moment, without opening his eyes:: Is he gone? <Angel> You're still alive and breathing. I think. <Dawn> ::opens his eyes a crack, looks around cautiously, then downs the rest of his beer:: Fucking lunatic. <Angel> ::raises an eyebrow:: Indeed you are. What did *he* want? <Dawn> To let me know I've inherited the deal you made with him. <Angel> ::takes a deep breath:: Tell me that I should be surprised. * A noisy crew, four men and a doxy, stagger away from the bar-- apparently having been drinking a bit more than weak beer-- and settle into the corner booth just next to Dawn's table. Hoarse laughter and snippets of conversation float over the divider. * Dawn gives the noisy crowd a vaguely disgusted look, then turns back to Angel. "Maybe not. Be nice if I'd heard of it before now, though." <Angel> ::makes a face:: I didn't think it would apply, after Lord Hooke was dead. * The doxy giggles irritatingly as one of the men pulls her onto his lap. One of the other men calls for yet another round of drinks. <Dawn> Apparently, it does. ::grumbles and rubs his hands over his face:: Enough of that. I told you Jade's on the job? <Angel> ::nods:: Snowman, too. Sylvie came by to ask Jewel's opinion about something... wallpaper, I think. * The men fall to bantering with each other, apparently boasting about past crimes. <Dawn> ::raises his eyebrows:: Wallpaper? <Angel> ::shrugs one shoulder:: Sylvie's expanding her place. While she's in town and all. <Dawn> ::snorts:: Sure. Snowman's watching her? How's she taking that? <Angel> ::rubs one finger along the side of his nose:: She actually likes the old bastard... and I trust him. <Dawn> ::nods:: True enough. ::takes a swig from his flask and offers it to Angel:: You heard about my latest boarder? <Angel> ::off hand:: Not from you, no. <Peaches> ::a beer mug thunks on the table, and a somewhat familiar voice, slurred with drink, floats over the divider:: Ahhh... y'know, all this talk... I missh the old days, ladszh, really I do... what's happened t' us, ay? Useta be, sheep were fer shearin', not fer makin'... sweet little pets outta.... ::belches:: or buggerin'! ::there's a squeal from the doxy, as if she just had her bottom pinched. Which she probably has.:: * Angel raises one eyebrow and uses the squeal to glance over his shoulder. <Peaches> ::the other men grumble muted agreement with the speaker, and he warms to his subject:: An'... an'... a fellow c'ld mind hiz own business, an' make a good livin'... useta be... useta be... what wuz I sayin', lads? Oh, right. Useta be, we'd buy a Lizard, and they'd *shtay* bought if they knew what was good fer' em! Aye? ::more "hear, hears":: <Dawn> ::gives the drinkers a glare, then takes another swig, dropping his voice:: Violet. Fortune-reader, information source. An affiliate, but her contact dropped out of sight. In trouble, say Violet's cards, and she says there are slavers picking up the quiet loners. I knew her back in Suzail, before we both came here. She asked for my protection. <Angel> ::his eyebrow is in danger of becoming one with his hairline:: Slavers? Here? <Dawn> It's what she said. I don't know whether to credit it - but I did some checking, and quite a few of the loners are... missing. Gone to ground, maybe, but I don't like it. <Angel> You are not alone in that. ::takes a sip of his beer and scowls at it:: Rat piss. <Dawn> ::offers Angel his flask again:: Here. Don't drink that piss until you're already half gone. Anyhow, I took her back to my place, though with the kid in the spare room, she's bunking on the couch. I'm about ready to start listening to Bie when she's talking a new house. <Peaches> ::pounding his mug on the table a couple of times in emphasis to his words:: 'S'posed t' be... the strong an' the smart take what they want from th' weak an' the stupid, aye? Way o' the world! *Our* world! ::doxy makes a pretend-pleased sound as he squeezes her:: 'F I wanted t' be doin' charity with m' tithe, I'd 'a become a fuckin' priest, aye? And I ain't no priest! ::his audience joins him in a lewd chuckle:: <Angel> ::washes his mouth out with Dawn's liquor:: Thank you. One of the few benefits of being wealthy is not having to drink bad beer. ::shakes his head at the idiots in the booth:: <Dawn> ::eyes narrow at the booth:: Peaches. That's Peaches, the fucking insubordinate little pencildick. <Angel> ::sighs:: A dear friend. I know. <Peaches> ::grumbling some more:: Guild's turnin' into the biggest damn protection racket in the city... an' I know a racket when I smell one, lads. ::shakes his head somberly:: War's comin', lads... we all been hearin' the rumors. I say, better make sure we're on the right side, ay? * Angel flicks his fingers at Dawn. {Let him commit himself... this could be... educational.} * Dawn starts to stand, then hunches down in his seat, listening intently. "Come on," he whispers with malicious glee. "Let out a little more of that rope..." <Peaches> ::belching again as his men mutter amongst themselves, and pushing the doxy off his lap:: Here now, sweetness, get us another round, won'tcha? ::he slaps her bottom, and she heads off to the bar, rubbing her butt a little when she's out of sight of the table:: <Angel> ::watches the girl go without interest:: <Peaches> ::leans forward, lowering his voice:: Sez I, Dawn ain't never done me no favors... that aside, that aside, though... ::he waves a hand, and nearly tips over, one of his mates catching him in time and propping him back up:: Sez I... he ain't had the guts 'r brains t' come out an' *say* he took down Mace... I don't think he's got the guts 'r brains to do what needs doin', to get us back where we were, aye? * Dawn looks almost gleeful at this condemnation. <Angel> ::touches his knife hilt:: Shall I, boss? <Dawn> ::shakes his head:: Not just yet. Let's see if he'll be clever enough to give us some names to work with, first. <Angel> I'd be fucking stunned if this limp wit knew his *own* name. <Peaches> ::leaning forward confidentially again:: Word is... this newcomer, ain't a newcomer, y'know. Ain't been 'round fer awhile, but word is, he knows how th' Guild useta be, and wants ta put it back there. <Dawn> ::grins and waves Angel to silence so he can better hear:: * Angel flickers his fingers again, his lips a thin line. {Bad enough dying. Worse having to come back and listen to a bunch of self-pitying idiots moan about 'the good old days'.} <Dawn> {I don't think they were talking about your old days, boss. You were only on top of things for a few months.} <Angel> {I know.} <Peaches> ::belches again, and glances towards the bar to make sure the girl's not on her way back yet:: Sez I... can't drive us inta th' ground any worse'n Dawn, aye? Fuckin' sheep-fucker... ::the men are silent a moment, considering this, and then slowly start to nod and chuckle. The girl appears out of the crowd again, carrying two brimming mugs in each hand and trying (vainly) to keep from spilling any or getting pinched blue on the way back:: * Dawn frowns and whispers a quiet spell. The girl's spike-heeled shoe rather suddenly and inexplicably gets wedged in a crack in the floor, tripping her and spilling the drinks. * Peaches mutters a curse as the girl wails and goes down in a tangle of mugs and limbs, and men from several tables eagerly offer her "help" up. "Fuckin' stupid whore... wastin' *my* money..." * Angel polishes his beer mug on his sleeve enough to get a grimy reflection and raises it as if to toast something Dawn said, eying the group behind him, attempting to place names with faces. <Dawn> ::under his breath:: Talk some more, you fucker... <Peaches> ::shakes his head and mutters:: S'right... prolly better off without gits th' like o' her... <Dawn> ::quietly intent:: Come on... Tell me who you're gonna back, you scumsucking goatfucker... <Peaches> ::glances around the table and nods to one of his crew:: Cholly. Go get us another round. <Peaches> ::one of the burlier and slightly-less-drunk men heaves himself off the bench and staggers towards the bar:: <Peaches> Anyways... ::belch:: This guy delivers even half o' what he promises... I'll back 'im all th' way. * Dawn catches Angel's eye. {Soon as I leave, they're all yours.} <Angel> ::heaves a big sigh:: {One on four... I haven't even stretched out yet...} <Dawn> {So wait in the alley. You going soft on me?} <Angel> ::shakes his head:: {You. Wish.} <Peaches> ::sighs:: Liked 'is Da, I did. Tough guy, that. ::laughs:: Not that Roche wasn't tougher! <Dawn> ::starts to respond to Angel, then stops, banter forgotten:: {Fuck. Boss? You heard that?} <Angel> ::nods slowly:: {I heard.} <Dawn> {I think we've heard enough.} He doesn't wait for Angel's response, but puts his flask away and gets up from the table. He pushes past the doxy, only just righting herself, and heads out the door. * Legs, the doxy, has only just managed to regain her feet again and pull her clothing mostly back into place when Dawn pushes past. She scowls after him, and primps herself haughtily. * Angel watches Dawn go, then quietly draws his knife under the table. He pushes his chair away from the table, turns and eyes the table of turncoats. With a quick, deft motion he slides his blade along the side of Peaches' neck. "I bet you don't have one good reason why I shouldn't cut your throat." <Peaches> ::the drunken toughs blink stupidly, as if Angel had appeared out of thin air in front of them. Two start to rise from their chairs, reaching for weapons, but freeze as they see where Angel's knife is. Weasel glances nervously towards the bar.:: <Angel> ::coolly:: Don't even *think* about moving. Well, Peaches... have you thought of anything? <Peaches> Hrm? Wha-- ::freezes as the steel kisses his throat and shocks the alcohol out of his system in a hurry. He licks his lips with a dry tongue, carefully:: How much? <Angel> ::eyes Cholly from the corner of his eye and shakes a knife casually down from his sleeve into his free hand. Without hesitating, he tosses the blade end over end towards Cholly's throat:: * Cholly chokes on the blade in his throat and goes down in almost exactly the same place that Legs did, the beers in his ham-sized fists spilling (again) over the backs of the sailors at tables on either side. The action happened so quickly that no one saw the knife; their mates laugh, the sailors swear, and one of them kicks Cholly roughly, cursing him and his clumsiness. <Angel> ::leans closer to Peaches, almost whispering in his ear:: You're pissing me off, dead man. <Peaches> L-listen... Angel, isn't it? Dawn pays you, fine, but I can pay, too. You just let me walk, I swear, you never hear from me again, and your boss never has to know how much heavier your pockets are. You got no loyalty to him... word is, that little sheep he likes wants to be your woman, yes? Well, I'll see what I can do... can't do nothing if I'm dead, though, unnerstand? <Angel> ::glances at Peaches' henchmen across the table:: You are such *little* fish. I'd be doing your new boss a *favor* by taking you out of the pool. <Peaches> ::the men look at each other, and look at their boss helplessly. Hammer, seated next to Peaches, looks a little panicked, and his left hand slides slowly out of sight:: <Angel> ::thoughtfully:: Of course, I'd be doing *us* a favor, too. How fucking stupid could you be? ::eyes Hammer, then sighs:: Pretty fucking stupid. ::another shake of the arm, another knife, right to the eye:: <Peaches> I ain't no little fish! I know people, I've got a good r-- aaah! ::he lets out a muffled shriek as Hammer hefts his trademark weapon in his left hand and starts to rise from his seat, taking Angel's knife deep in the eye and falling forward onto his boss, showering him with gore:: <Angel> ::lets his knife bite into Peaches' throat, drawing a sting of blood:: He was right behind you, the whole conversation. Don't you even *think* to look around before you open your mouth to plot treason? <Angel> ::shift his gaze slowly to the bartender:: Don't. This is business and I don't want to kill anyone that I don't have to. <Peaches> Fuck... please... I was just... ::laughs hysterically:: I was faking! I heard... someone talked to one a' my guys, and... and... I was gonna draw out the traitor for him! I learned my lesson, really I did! Please don't kill me! * The bartender, having pulled a metal rod the thickness of three fingers from under the counter, stops at the end of the bar and scowls darkly at Angel:: <Peaches> ::Weasel and Sharkbait look at each other, and look back at their boss, puzzled:: <Angel> ::sighs sadly:: I wish I believed you. I really do. You know, she saved your life, near to three years ago. Thought Dawn should give you a second chance. I know. I was there. <Peaches> ::hoarsely:: She? She who? <Angel> ::grimly:: The sheep you're so fond of badmouthing. <Angel> ::eyes Weasel and Sharkbait:: You two having second thoughts? That's good. You might actually come out of this alive, if you keep having them. <Peaches> ::dumbly:: Did she, then? Did she... ::belligerently:: Proves me right, then, doesn't she? She's weak, an' Dawn listens to her... so go ahead! Enough of this, go ahead and do it, if you've got the guts! Prove me right again! Fuckin' losers, all of you! <Angel> ::very low:: Must sting, then... being killed by a loser. Hope your god forgives you. ::he slices Peaches' throat neatly:: <Peaches> An' tell Dawn-- tell 'im I said he hadn't the *guts* to do it hims-- ::dies:: * Sharkbait gets hit by Peaches' arterial spray, but sits frozen, not quite daring to wipe it off with Angel there:: <Angel> ::wipes his blade off on Peaches' shirt, for all the good it does him:: Now then... gentlemen... ::looks at Weasel and Sharkbait again:: My arm's getting tired and I'm dulling my blade. Who wants to live? * Weasel's hand shoots up before he remembers that sudden movement might be a bad idea, and Sharkbait's follows a little more slowly. <Angel> ::looking at the faint reflection in the greasy window:: Don't even try it, hero. This is no concern of yours. Sit down and drink your ratpiss. * The young bravo moving up behind Angel, blade half-drawn, hesitates as Angel speaks. He looks at the bodies, looks at Angel, and lifts his chin a little, not moving. <Angel> I really, really don't want to kill you. But I will, if you force it. Sit down and think about all the people who will miss you, when you're dead. * The young bravo hesitates a moment more, just to show he can, before thrusting his blade home into its sheath again with a grunt, as if he's decided all on his own these people aren't worth the waste of his time. He returns to his table and sits, but is careful not to actually turn his back on Angel until he's well out of knife range. <Angel> ::smiles grimly:: Now, my dear gentlemen... hands on the table, please. <Sharkbait> ::Three hands and a stump appear on the table. Sharkbait looks faintly worried, and shrugs helplessly:: <Angel> ::nods:: Very good. Consider it well, the next time you decide to bite the hand that feeds you. Sometimes, it bites back. ::with two quick slashes, Weasel finds himself a finger short on one hand. From some obscure sense of mercy, Sharkbait is left with a dripping cut like an X on one cheek:: Good day to you, then. * Weasel screams once, shrilly, as his finger falls free of his hand. Sharkbait merely puts his good hand to his cheek, blood dripping through his fingers, and looks relieved. He nods once. "Sir." * Angel backs away, not quickly, but not slowly either. He grabs Legs by the arm on his way out. "Dearheart, it's time you were going. Let me help you." He nods to her. "Be a good lass. Inside my vest, on the left, you'll find a coin purse. Give it over to the barkeep, for the mess." * The bartender, by this time, is standing blocking the door, tapping his metal bar impatiently against his other hand. * Legs stumbles, only Angel's arm helping her keep her feet. Her hand trembles as she reaches gingerly inside his bloody vest, and she nearly drops the purse at the weight of the thing. She smiles at Angel, a little hesitantly, and flutters her eyelashes. <Angel> ::a quick flick of his chin and Angel notes the bartender's position:: I'd advise taking the money, good sir. The patrons are no loss to your establishment. * Legs totters over to the bartender blocking the door and holds out the purse, trying vainly to stay out of swinging range. * The bartender glances at the back corner and weighs the purse in his hand. "'S trouble. I don't like trouble in my place." <Angel> ::gently:: There's no trouble any more. I took care of it. What do you think *himself* would do, should word spread that your establishment was harboring turncoats to the guild? This way, you have my word, you're not fingered. * The bartender looks disturbed at this, and nods brusquely, stepping out of the way of the door. "Weren't none of my fault, and you know it. But go." He sighs. "I'll wash up. But you send a butcherboy around for the bodies, hear? I don't want more trouble." <Angel> ::nods:: I appreciate it. Your good sense becomes you. Although, you might use some of that to get a better brewer. ::gives the man a half smile:: I am sorry for the inconvenience. A wagon crew will be along shortly. ::takes Legs' arm again:: Come along, dear. ::they leave:: * Legs clings to his arm as he claims her again, looking up at him through lowered lashes. * Angel glances up and down the street quickly, then jerks the girl into a nearby alley. "Can you swim?" <Legs> ::blinks, suddenly frightened again:: S-swim? No! P-please, I wasn't really with those guys, I was just a day-hire! ::wailing a little:: He hadn't even *paid* me yet! I don't know nothin', I promise, I never even saw ya! <Angel> ::wipes his knife again. then sheathes it:: Don't fret. I don't make it a habit to kill whores. ::glances at her:: Shit. Lose the sleeves. ::he motions to the bloody handprint on her blouse, then begins stripping off his own bloodsoaked clothes. He removes a few things from the vest, then wads it up, the shirt wrapped around it:: Damnit. I *liked* this hat, too. ::he adds the hat to his laundry pile:: * Legs stares in puzzlement for a moment and then realizes what he means, curling her lip in distaste at the blood on her sleeve and quickly ripping it free with a small beltknife of her own. She goes to work on the other one for good measure and adds them to Angel's growing pile, before resheathing her knife and watching as more and more of Angel is revealed. She smiles slowly. "I know a good, private bathhouse nearby, handsome...." <Legs> That is, if you need to wash up a bit... lay low... relax... ::she nearly purrs the last word:: <Angel> ::sighs:: Stop that. ::stuffs the bloody clothing midway into the nearest rubbish pile:: I'm going to get you out of here and to someplace safe, so try not to distract me. You're a loner? What's your name? <Legs> ::pouts a little at the rebuff:: Legs. Why... you-- you think they'll come after me? Fer bein' there, I mean? ::she puts a hand to her hair and tugs at it, pulling off her red wig and revealing medium-brown hair beneath. She tucks the wig away:: <Angel> ::eyes her quickly:: And very nice they are, too. ::shrugs:: It's possible. Anything's possible. I had to let those two go, to spread the word. Depending on how stupid they are, they may go straight to the intended usurper and spill everything, your pretty little self included. <Jewel> ::Angel feels a warm tickle in the back of his head:: * Angel closes his eyes briefly. * Angel opens his eyes again. "Where's this bathhouse of yours?" * Legs nods down the waterfront. "Powder Lane. Four blocks." <Jewel> {Checking in. Geremi's being outrageous at me again, love. Is all well? You seem... out of sorts.} <Legs> ::more subdued:: It really is a good, quiet place. Missus lets me use a room, for a cut. <Angel> {I need you. Badly. I need two changes of clothes, one for me, one for a girl, a little taller than you, but scrawny. Also, some money. At a bathhouse on Powder Lane. And a clean-up crew at the fishmongers. There're three bodies there.} * Angel nods to her. "Can you get us there, back ways?" He gestures to his bare chest with one blood-stained hand. "I'm not exactly presentable." <Legs> ::chews her lip a moment, thinking, and nods:: Past lunch rush... dockworkers will be back at the docks, and their womenfolk out shopping. It'll be clear. <Angel> ::takes a deep breath:: Lead on, then. For both our sakes, don't make any mistakes. <Jewel> {You may *not* keep her, I don't care what Bie told Dawn. I'll be there. ::sense of rolling eyes:: *With* Snowman. Better warn the owner.} * Angel hastily swallows the first thing that pops into his mind, which might not be very diplomatic. <Angel> {Given where we are, I don't think it'll twist her knickers any. And boots, too. Shit, I hate having to make examples of people.} "Go, woman... you think this is a stroll in the park?" * Legs hurries to the mouth of the alley, looking around carefully before beckoning Angel out and to the right. * Angel follows her, trying to look everywhere at once without moving his head. <Legs> {::sympathy:: I understand, love. ::pauses:: And *that* was naughty. ::she seems pleased and amused, as the contact fades::} * Legs waves him back into the shadows at one point when a Dragon strolls up the street past them, but other than the one incident, the way to the bathhouse is empty and quiet, as promised, and they make it there with little trouble. * Angel produces a platinum coin from one hollowed boot heel and hands it to the owner. "For me and the lady. A friend and another lady will be joining us. And send in some chilled wine, *please*." * The owner scowls a bit at the coin, until she sees the markings and realizes what fabled denomination it must be. She goggles, and bites it. "Aye, m'lord, right quickly, yer worship!" * Angel follows the owner to the bathroom, ushers Legs inside and closes the door after them. * Legs eyes him with a small smile. "A foursome, handsome? You sure you don't want to..." she trails off suggestively, tugging at her bodice strings. <Angel> I'm quite sure. ::gives her a quick grin and hands her a towel:: Might as well take advantage of the bath, though, since it's here and hot. Wrap that around you before you get in, so my girlfriend doesn't kill me, would you? <Legs> You have a girl? ::she sighs, and mumbles:: The good ones are always taken... ::quickly, she strips off her ruined dress, frowning in puzzlement as something in one pocket clinks. She reaches in curiously, and her eyes widen as she draws out her hand. Quickly, she shoves the two gold coins under her pile of clothes. She wraps the towel around herself modestly before stepping into the bath, washing off flecks of gore briskly and getting out again:: You next, handsome, you're a regular grue, you are. * Angel kicks out of his boots. "Don't I know it? This is not, I'll admit, my favorite sort of work. Messy, public and uncivilized." He finishes stripping and pretends not to notice Legs watching him. He binds a towel around his waist and climbs into the tub. * Legs watches him semi-covertly, and sighs again as he covers himself. * Angel stretches out somewhat. "Is this your chosen career path? An independent street-girl?" <Legs> ::shrugs one shoulder gracefully:: It's a living. Missus B here treats me good, and most of the johns I get are too drunk or happy to treat me bad. <Legs> ::lifts her chin a little:: Safer'n what you do. * Angel leans back to duck his head under the water and makes a bit of a face as the water turns muddy red around him. "Don't get me wrong, dearheart. I'm not knocking your occupation. I used to own a whorehouse." <Legs> ::looking interested:: Used to? What happened? * Legs moves around behind him, getting shampoo from a little alcove by the tub and starting to work on his hair with brisk efficiency, suggesting that whoring isn't the only thing she does to make money. <Angel> It was a very successful venture. The madam bought me out, after several years. I like business ventures that succeed. <Legs> ::raises her eyebrows, surprised:: You let 'er? But... all that money...? <Angel> ::shrugs:: I needed the capital for another venture, and she was really doing most of the work. <Legs> ::snorts:: Like that's ever stopped every *other* pimp I heard of... <Angel> ::opens his eyes to look at her:: That's what the Guild is for, dearheart... to help *everyone* make the most profit for their work. <Legs> ::hesitantly, picking up a brush to scrub the crusted blood from his neck and shoulders:: I hear... it's not so safe for the loners, in this war coming. There've been... rumors. <Legs> Missus B's really good to me, an' don't take much 'cause I help out around the place sometimes, but... she don't... go with me, or nothing. <Angel> ::nods again, then sits up, checking his hair to see if there's any blood left in it:: I'm thinking... if you're interested, we might make a business arrangement? <Legs> ::smiles a little:: I thought you weren't interested in my business, handsome. <Angel> ::snorts:: I'm flattered. But no... having put you at risk today because of my actions, it would be poor manners not to ensure your safety. If you're interested, of course. <Legs> ::hikes her eyebrows:: Manners? ::pouts a little:: That's a lucky girl you got... ::she considers:: I... can't say it don't appeal. You'd... you'd set me up in a real place? <Jewel> ::A bell jingles as the outer door opens, and another customer-- two, from the footsteps-- enters. A familiar voice down the hall exchanges a few murmurs with the owner:: <Angel> ::lifts one eyebrow:: I know, it doesn't always seem to go hand-in-hand, does it? Manners from a murderer... ::his mouth twists ironically:: But yes... a real place. With a room and proper meals and bouncers to make sure you don't get any more bruises. * Legs pulls the towel up to cover the side of her breast a little self-consciously, covering dark fingermarks there. "An'... manners aside, what's in it fer you?" <Angel> ::gives her a half-smile:: A percentage. A small one, mind. At least until you can buy your contract out. And... I need eyes and ears. Someone to listen. Johns talk, and I need someone answering personally. To me. <Legs> ::considers and chews her lip again. Outside, footsteps move down the hall, approaching their door:: That madam that bought you out... will you tell me who it is? <Angel> ::looks at her directly:: Prove to me, over time, that I can trust you. I have a soft spot for whores, but I'm no fool. * Jewel knocks lightly on the door and breezes into the bathing room, Snowman at her heels. She carries a few bags bearing the logo of an uptown modiste. "What a charming little place!" She looks around with a delighted, slightly vacuous smile. <Snowman> ::looks around and grins broadly:: Nice scenery, that. * Legs meets his eyes and nods after a moment. "Fair." She looks a little startled-- approaching alarmed-- as the other woman breezes in, and she does not miss Jewel's quick raking glance over her attire and her proximity to Angel. She rinses the brush and stands up as if she were just finishing. * Angel sighs. "And a pleasant afternoon to you, as well, Snowman." He slowly gets out of the tub, one hand on his towel. "Jewel, you're a wonder, as always." He leans over and kisses her briefly. "You sent the crew?" * Legs grins a little, almost automatically, at Snowman. <Snowman> ::winking:: Well, now... ain't this a fine little girl ya got here, says me. Gots us some clothes for you, we do. * Jewel smiles sunnily back. "Of course. They're already on their way." She tsks. "Can't let you go off by yourself *anywhere.*" She returns his kiss and starts unlacing her bodice, eyeing the other woman critically as she does so. "Thinner, but I think it'll do. Angel, these are yours, I believe." She hands him the bags. <Snowman> Always collectin' girls, you are. If you ask me, and I note that you did not, you got more women than you bloody need. <Jewel> ::tsks:: Well, you can't have one, Snowman, you're married. ::winks at Legs, who relaxes a little at the banter:: Now turn around, before I have to stick a dagger in your eye to keep you from peeking. * Jewel shucks off her bodice, revealing a second one beneath it. She starts unlacing that one, too. <Angel> ::slightly stiff:: I wasn't *planning* this, my lady. ::he starts rummaging through the bag:: We happened to have a bit of luck and stumbled across some dead men who were just too stupid to know it yet. ::to Snowman:: Watch out. Weasel and Sharkbait are still breathing, but they might stop soon, if they're not very, very clever. <Jewel> ::frowns:: Weasel? Isn't he one of Peaches' crew? ::removing the second bodice and handing it absently to Legs:: Hold that, please. Better yet-- try it on. I've some pins, if it's too wide. <Snowman> ::snorts:: <Angel> ::shrugs:: Well, he *was*. Peaches couldn't give me a good reason to let him keep breathing. <Jewel> ::removes her dark blue overdress, revealing another, simpler gown beneath in maroon, kilted up under the first so the hem wouldn't show. She sighs:: He's such a stupid man. Well, I tried. I'm sorry, you *were* right. ::shakes her head, and eyes Snowman again:: *Will* you turn around? Please? <Snowman> ::scowls:: That ain't fair, says me. Can't touch this one, can't look at that one. Fucking abused is what I am, me. * Angel shakes his head, hiding a half smile as he bends to the bag of clothes and begins to dress. "Behave, you old goat." <Jewel> ::grins a little:: Yes, you're horribly abused. You'll have to go pour out all your sorrows to Sylvie, and perhaps she'll comfort you as you think you deserve. * Jewel pushes lightly on Snowman's bony shoulder to turn him around, and removes the second underdress, followed by a shift. She passes all these over to Legs. "Here, they'll be a little loose, but they should do. I've been wearing my hems long lately." <Snowman> ::snorts again, but faces the wall:: Fine, fine. <Jewel> Underthings and shoes are in that bag-- I wasn't sure how much you'd need. ::points:: * Angel finishes dressing and combs his fingers through his hair, then checks under his nails for blood traces. * Legs goggles a little, but dresses quickly as Jewel hurries back into her own clothes. <Angel> Now that we're all decent ::eyes Snowman:: Or dressed, at any rate... can we get out of here? * Legs nods. "Back entrance is that way." She points. "Mistress, we--" * Jewel interrupts. "I know. It's alright. And I don't want to hear about it. Better I don't know." * Legs nods, and ushers them out. |
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