Log: Past And Present.
IC: Winter - Day 27, month 1, turn 23 of Interval 10.
RL: 2010.06.29
Raveki drops by the Even'Star. What starts out as a friendly bit of business goes somewhat awry when she hands an object over to Bailey.
Even'Star(#1935R)
Designed with only needing one or two members to crew it, the Even'Star is a modest little vessel of just 55feet long and capable of flying up to five sails at once. Fore-and-aft rigging projects from a single mast that bears a topmast. Currently just one headsail is flying and is strangely festooned with bright fabric flowers, one can only guess at the reasoning for such an outlandish display on an otherwise simply decked out sloop. The chipped and faded black with white trim speaks to this once having been a pretty little vessel and yet while hull and stern are nowhere near their potential glory, the decking is kept meticulously scrubbed and cared for. A singe hatch leads down into cramped private quarters.
Contents:
Raveki
Cabin - Even'Star(#777Aeh)
Obvious exits:
Docks
Having an agreement in place with another trader to share a stand that sees Bailey working only every other day down at the market, this would be one of her ‘off’ days. One might imagine that the trader would take the opportunity to spend the day taking it easy given her condition. However, given how driven the sea-trader can be when her mind is set to something, this would be an incorrect assumption to make. Soft grunts and low cursing can possibly be heard by anyone coming aboard as the woman does battle with a box of goods that is refusing to budge up and over the last step leading up from her cabin.
Raveki ambles up, her steps as languid as the drawl with which she says, "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" That's while her eyes are sliding over the trim vessel but before she hears the grunting and cursing. When the latter happens her eyes widen a bit and she tosses the bag she carries up onto the deck before stepping after it. "Bailey? Do you need help? Don't... hurt yourself."
Bailey stops with the pushing and pulling for a bit as Raveki’s voice floats up, “Raveki? Sure, come on up.” A dull thud attesting to a swift kick being laid to the obstinate box followed by a low growl of frustration when the thing slides -down- a step. Hands set to hips and the trader glares down at it. Through a sharp sigh of irritation, meant for the box not the madam, “It’s not heavy, it’s just an awkward length to move.” Which translates to ‘Yes, she needs help’. Stepping down to a shorter end of the box, she bends and sets her hands beneath it, “You take that end,” the one sticking up toward the deck, “and pull. I’ll push.” One or two lacy pieces of fabric poke through the centre of the rectangular box where flaps don’t quite come together.
Raveki replies with an easy "yeah" to confirm her identity, but then she's just eyeing the pregnant woman and the box with one lifted brow. "You know there are dockhands scattered liberally all around this area. Strapping young men who could toss this box around with ease, and most would do it for the cost of a smile from a pretty girl like yourself." Which isn't to say that she won't help. In spite of heeled sandals and a fluttery short skirt she crouches and takes up her end, trying to brace her feet on the deck's wood so she can drag it up. "What's in it? That doesn't look like pottery or spices to me."
Putting her weight behind giving the box a good shove upward, Bailey’s response comes out as somewhere between a snort and a grunt, “Aye, bet they’ll stand in long lines for a fat pregnant woman.” That she could simply have called over to the Orchid Rain for help doesn’t seem to have occurred to her either. With Raveki at the other end of the box it clears the top step and slides upward, without any further problems. Puffing a strand of hair out of her eyes, the sea-trader comes up the steps after it and tips a crooked smile out for the other woman, “Nope, not pottery or spices.” Bending down she hooks a finger around the lace peeking out and tugs. What slithers out is a daring little black number that is by no stretch of the imagination, a dress to be worn in public. Straightening up, the negligee still dangling from a finger, it gets held out to the dark eyed woman, “Actually, I was on my way to bring the box to you. Figured there might be some things in there your girls could use? They’re all second-hand but in very good condition, so the price is almost a steal.”
Raveki scrambles backward when the box suddenly comes free, but she's quick to straighten and smooth her skirt and hair with quick little habitual gestures. She's fine, totally meant to do that. "You are not fat," she responds, casually and offhand without the dripping reassurance some women would have. "But you also have a tall, dark and strapping of your own who probably wouldn't be too happy to see you huffing and puffing like this." A backward glance helps her find some bit of mast to lean back against, and she eyes the lace as it slips out of the box. A low whistle and her brows go up. "That whole box like that? What happened, a whole whorehouse come down with the plague or something?" But her eyes are glinting at the piece and the mentioned deal - she's far from disinterested.
“Oh jays!” Bailey exclaims as the other scrambles out of the way, “Sorry ‘bout that.” Eyeing the other woman for any ulterior motive perhaps set into that compliment and finding none, the trader’s mouth puckers into a dubious line, “Tell that to my clothes and feet. That is, if I still have feet. Haven’t seen them in ages but I’m assuming they’re still down there somewhere.” At least she tries to inject humour into the grumble. A frown is quick to follow and a furtive glance sent over the way of the hulking spice ship, “Still trying to get it into his head that I’m not made of glass. Pregnant, not crippled.” Miss Independent. Crouching in as ladylike a fashion as she can with knees off to one side, the flaps of the box are pulled back and the contents revealed. All manner of wickedly delightful undergarments and negligees lie strewn over each other in sinful array of laces and silks with even a few pairs of heels with feathered toes in the mix. A smirk deep enough to drown a tunnelsnake in appears and is then followed by low throaty laughter for the comment over whom the items may have belonged to, “Way I understand it? These were all the property of a single madam.” Slow to straighten back up again, the box is given a nudge of toe, “I can think of no better home for these than the girls at your establishment.” Pale eyes glinting with an entirely different light to what those darker ones do, “If you take the whole box, I’ll throw in all the cosmetics that came with this too. Some of them look they’ve never been touched before.”
Raveki makes a show of bending at the waist and tipping her head so she can eye the feet. "Yep, they look present and accounted for to me," she quips with a faint grin. It deepens at the assurance that she's 'just pregnant', and she shakes her head. "There is a difference between being made of glass and being a little akward because you are carrying a small person around in your body you know. I'm not sure you could have hefted that by yourself regardless." She pushes up off the mast and takes the few steps over, setting into a less ladylike crouch and letting her hands dangle between her knees. "Hmm, looks like some good stuff." A hand comes out to rifle absently through, holding this or that up to look over a bit of lace or the stitching of a strap. "I can't think of enough people who would by this sort of thing for you to sell the whole box otherwise," she counters with amusement. "And my girls tend to wear actual clothes, and then nothing at all." She mulls it over, rubbing satiny material between her fingers before shrugging. "If you give a good deal like you said, we can probably put some of it to use though."
Baby blues widen in feigned relief, “Really? They’re still down there? Oh thank goodness.” Bailey sets a light scowl over to Raveki and then a sigh washes it away, “Aye, you’re right. I just want done with it already so I can get back to my life, you know?” A flap of hand dismisses all that and attention gets firmly set on business. Well, almost. “If it weren’t for this,” that awkward lump around the middle becoming a convenient excuse, “I might well have hung onto some of the stuff myself.” A wry grin appears, “Aye, some people may take offence to me offering them such items. See it as my presuming upon their ‘good names,” the air quotes audible in her tone and the ensuring soft snort. “There’s two ways we can do this. I’ve got an inventory list of everything in there as well as individual prices for each. I can have the box delivered to the Seven for you and the ladies to go through and decide what can be used. Or, take the whole box as is for,” a price is named before continuing on, “and I’ll throw in not only the cosmetics for free, but a whole bunch of half-used bottles of perfume that came with this too.” Leaving the madam to mull over the two offers on the table, the trader moves toward a nearby crate that hasn’t made it down to her cabin yet and parks her butt on it.
For the feigned relief Raveki just has a roll of dark eyes. It shifts into blatant incredulity at the next comment though and she shakes her head. "I've never had a baby but from what I've heard this is as close to 'your life' as you're going to have for a while. Unless you're planning on getting a wet nurse or fostering it out?" She glances up from the box to catch Bailey's eyes as she asks the question and stays that way through the terms of the deal. "Oh, we might as well just take the whole box. I don't know when the girls will have time to go through it and I'd rather not have to arrange to send it back and all of that. And maybe someone will like some of the perfume too. We lost a few bottles in the break in." She reaches for the abandond bag and rummages through it for her little bag of marks. "Is it OK if I send someone to pick it up later?" The rummaging puts her hand on a cloth-wrapped package and she blinks. "Oh, shit. I forgot all about this. I am actually here to see you for a reason." Said reason gets pulled out in place of money, and she walks over to where the sea-trader is perched to hold it out in a palm-up hand.
If that was meant to offer some kind of assurance to Bailey, it falls far short of target and in fact has the opposite effect with the trader blanching under tanned skin. The question posed to her going unanswered. “Thanks, I feel so much better now,” sarcasm fitting with an expression that becomes tightly controlled, remaining in place as Raveki turns to business next. The spark that would usually ignite pale eyes for a transaction brought to a satisfactory close, fails to make an appearance, the trader merely nodding in mute agreement for someone being sent to collect the items. Eyes narrow onto the madam and finally the tiniest embers of curiosity flicker back into her expression, a smile starting to form as she holds out her hand, “Someone left you a gift for me?” Happiness filtering back in for the simple gesture, “I didn’t think anyone here even knew when my turnday was. Who was it?”
Business and babies are left in the wake of Raveki shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she looks down at the item in the woman's hand. "I don't know. He didn't leave a name. Tall guy, dark hair, hard blue eyes." She pauses to take a slow breath and adds, "Dusty hat, southern drawl... he was sort of intense and... dark?" She shrugs that last off, with a twitch of pale smile. "It didn't seem like a turnday gift or I might have brought it to you sooner. It was a few days ago. I was sort of waiting to see if any other odd people I didn't know showed up."
Only half listening to Raveki as fingers make quick work of unwrapping the cloth from the object, delight still etched across Bailey’s face for the unexpected surprise. Replaced almost instantly with thinly disguised horror when the pocket watch is revealed, the offending item dropped to the deck as if it had scorched her palm. “Where the...who...,” the sentence stopped and started several times before falling away as realization hits in for the description given. Heels of palms press against her temples, “Fuck!” The expletive all but whispered over and over again in distressed mantra.
Raveki's expression holds pensive waiting as Bailey eagerly unveils the dubious gift, with arms folded across her waist in a gesture meant to seem casual but coming across as shielding instead. When the sea-trader's face transforms, she winces a bit but if surprise flickers at all it is only in deference to the severity of the reaction, not the nature. "Bailey," she murmurs into the string of expletives, and she steps closer, reaching out a tentative hand for the other woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry to bring you something that distresses you so much but it seemed like something you should see. Do you..." she trails off, white teeth dragging at her lip as her eyes scan the nearby boats. "Do you want to talk, or do you want me to get someone for you?"
Bailey doesn’t shy away from the touch to her shoulder, in fact, she seems hardly aware of it at first. It’s Raveki’s last that snaps her back again. With some of her colour returning, she stoops, takes up the pocket watch and stands, “’Vek,” the abbreviation quickly summoned, “You need to double your guard. If that was them and Sanjo’s still here…” shaking her head in wordless implication. As to the latter part of the query put to her there’s a firm shake of head accompanied by a jerk of head in the direction of the spice ship, “No, he’s not to know of this. Not yet.”
When Bailey stands, Raveki's hand falls away, fluttering nervously back to her own side. "Double... we hardly even /have/..." she trails off and shakes her head, shoving a hand back through her hair to push it away from her face. "I think you might need to slow down and start over. These people who you said didn't reach this far... this is from them? Who is Sanjo and what-" she trails off, flicking fingers at the watch. "What does that mean?" As for not telling Rio, she just nods. Bailey's call.
Head bowing, Bailey’s hands set to her hips as she inhales a deep breath and then lets it out slowly. Nodding as if come to a decision, all panic erased and her expression grim, “He’s one of my brothers, though I can’t believe he’d have been sent up here. Only Ranulf knows, knew where I was and he’s…” out of the picture. The hand with the pocket watch opening, “No, this was personal. A message to me.” Tone brisk now, “I’m pretty sure this has nothing to do with the break in down at the Seven. The one that gave this to you. Is he still here?”
Bailey's decision draws some of the tension out of the set of Vek's shoulders, and she takes a few little shuffling steps backwards so she can retake her position against the nearest mast. "What sort of message?" Her tone is a bit flat, her dark eyes keenly assessing on the other brunette, and for Bailey's final question she just shakes her head. "I haven't seen him and it's been a few days. He seemed like he was just passing through."
Watching as Raveki retreats from her, the sea-trader’s expression offers no tell, just a curt nod for the reply over the messenger. With her mouth twisting into a dark line as she heads toward her cabin, Bailey’s laugh is low and mirthless as she answers the question put to her, “That they know where I am.” So many ‘theys’, so few definitions. Appearing moments later with a smaller box in her hands, it gets set down next to the bigger one of lingerie. Crouching next to it, “The cosmetics and perfumes,” she states picking up first one elegantly crafted glass bottle and then another. Flickering a wary glance up to the other woman leaning against the mast, “Can I count on you to keep this between just the two of us?”
One dark brow slowly arches, and while her eyes grow more intent the rest of her body grows more languid, lounging back against the wood at her back. "So you've been trying to disappear from your family? I'm sure there's a story there but I guess now's not the best time to pry." There's no chance she's missing any little tidbit Bailey drops though. At the request, her dark gaze drops and she runs the pad of her thumb across her lower lip. "I have someone who keeps an eye out on things at the Seven, and I already mentioned it to him. He's not going to say anything to anyone else, and I won't be spreading it on to anyone else." Her eyes lift and she spreads a palm-up hand - the best she can do.
Attention back to the smaller box, hands touching through the various items, some almost new and others almost empty, Bailey nods, uttering a non-committal, “Mmhm.” On the topic of whom she’s trying to avoid. “I have a preference for the choices I make, rather than the ones they sought to make -for- me.” Truth or decoy? Swivelling on her heel, hands dangling off of her knees, the sea-trader angles a narrowed look up to Raveki, “And who would this someone be? If he’s to be privy to this,” whatever ‘this’ is, “then I feel I have a right to know who’s silence I’m supposed to be trusting.”
Raveki spares the briefest of glances for the contents of the box. It's pretty clear her purchase is not at the top of her concerns at the moment. "I tend to like making my own choices too so I can't judge that." Her tone is too casual though, not quite the believing sympathy it could be. She meets the narrowed eyes with a gaze gone to steel of her her own, and she tips her chin upward just the tiniest bit. "You brought this on, Bailey. Your... brother or whoever he is showed up in /my/ bar, and who knows what comes next. It's my responsibility to keep my establishment and more importantly, my girls safe. You just told me to double my guard, which the Weyr provides for the most part. It's going to be hard enough doing that without telling Loe or someone what you have going on." A little twitch of her head is almost a negating shake but not quite. "I'll let him tell you if he wants. But you'll just have to trust me, and trust him for now. It isn't like I chose to be the bearer of this 'gift'."
Bailey lets the first words go, offering simply a wry snort of amusement as response. It’s the rest that draws her slowly to her feet once again, a brow arching upward, expression turning hard as sarcasm bleeds through into her tone, “Aye, because I planned this all out to the last detail. Turning up here out of nowhere, latching onto Candlario, lulling you and everyone else into a false sense of security by pretending to be friendly, the break in, and the messenger with the watch. All of it.” Snorting roughly for the ‘confession’ as she turns away from the boxes. Trust, is not a part of this woman’s nature, as evidenced by the sceptical light in her eyes, “You know what? Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m done.” Probably because she’s likely to be gone by morning.
Raveki just stays where she is, her body relaxed though a muscle in her jaw tightens in the face of Bailey's onslaught. "Listen," the single word is low, calm, barely more than a whisper. "I don't know anything about Candlario or the rest of it, that's none of my business, and I don't think you are the one who orchestrated the break-in, or even that it is related to the watch. All I am saying is that /you/? Are not my concern. The Seven and the girls are my concern. I will hold my tongue where you are concerned and I am certain he will do the same as long as he feels our safety isn't threatened." She pauses to take a slow breath, then tips her head, quizzical. "Can you honestly say you'd do any different?"
Intent, the latch of pale eyes onto Raveki as she speaks. Once she's done Bailey's shoulders roll in an indifferent shrug, "Don't need your concern or anyone else's for that matter. Just your silence, and his." The grate to tone indication of annoyance for the other woman's refusal to give up a name. Residence is once again taken up on the crate she'd vacated earlier, "I'd not get the weyr involved," is what she'd do differently, or what she's hoping Raveki might be persuaded to do, "I'd put one of them big dockhands on extra watch for a night or two until I was sure that messenger wasn't coming back and leave it at that."
Raveki just pushes up off of the mast, relieving it of her weight as she heads toward the dock. "I'll take care of mine and you take care of yours, how's that for a plan?" For a visit that started out friendly, Raveki's voice is cool and flat, though still not as full of emotion as it probably should be. "If anyone else odd shows up I'll let you know." She pauses to lift her chin to the parcels. "And I'll be watching for those by tonight."
Initially, if there's any regret for the way the visit turned out, Bailey doesn't show it. Her agreement to the first is there in the level look and slight dip of head. "Get a name next time," she counters with on the topic of strange messengers and then flicks a look down onto the boxes and back up to Raveki, "Before dark falls," she confirms, tone and expression neutral. It'll only be once the departing woman's back is turned, when she won't see the remorse and shadows darkening pale eyes, that two words will barely be given voice and sent after her. "I'm sorry."
Raveki's feet pause on the wood of the dock at the suggestion to get a name, and the line of her back stiffens. It's safe to assume there's some sharp reply on her lips, but she just shakes her head and resumes her quick path to the beach. It's not likely that anything else is going to get much of a reaction if that didn't, so when the apology filters down to her she just lifts a hand and keeps walking.
RL: 2010.06.29
Raveki drops by the Even'Star. What starts out as a friendly bit of business goes somewhat awry when she hands an object over to Bailey.
Even'Star(#1935R)
Designed with only needing one or two members to crew it, the Even'Star is a modest little vessel of just 55feet long and capable of flying up to five sails at once. Fore-and-aft rigging projects from a single mast that bears a topmast. Currently just one headsail is flying and is strangely festooned with bright fabric flowers, one can only guess at the reasoning for such an outlandish display on an otherwise simply decked out sloop. The chipped and faded black with white trim speaks to this once having been a pretty little vessel and yet while hull and stern are nowhere near their potential glory, the decking is kept meticulously scrubbed and cared for. A singe hatch leads down into cramped private quarters.
Contents:
Raveki
Cabin - Even'Star(#777Aeh)
Obvious exits:
Docks
Having an agreement in place with another trader to share a stand that sees Bailey working only every other day down at the market, this would be one of her ‘off’ days. One might imagine that the trader would take the opportunity to spend the day taking it easy given her condition. However, given how driven the sea-trader can be when her mind is set to something, this would be an incorrect assumption to make. Soft grunts and low cursing can possibly be heard by anyone coming aboard as the woman does battle with a box of goods that is refusing to budge up and over the last step leading up from her cabin.
Raveki ambles up, her steps as languid as the drawl with which she says, "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" That's while her eyes are sliding over the trim vessel but before she hears the grunting and cursing. When the latter happens her eyes widen a bit and she tosses the bag she carries up onto the deck before stepping after it. "Bailey? Do you need help? Don't... hurt yourself."
Bailey stops with the pushing and pulling for a bit as Raveki’s voice floats up, “Raveki? Sure, come on up.” A dull thud attesting to a swift kick being laid to the obstinate box followed by a low growl of frustration when the thing slides -down- a step. Hands set to hips and the trader glares down at it. Through a sharp sigh of irritation, meant for the box not the madam, “It’s not heavy, it’s just an awkward length to move.” Which translates to ‘Yes, she needs help’. Stepping down to a shorter end of the box, she bends and sets her hands beneath it, “You take that end,” the one sticking up toward the deck, “and pull. I’ll push.” One or two lacy pieces of fabric poke through the centre of the rectangular box where flaps don’t quite come together.
Raveki replies with an easy "yeah" to confirm her identity, but then she's just eyeing the pregnant woman and the box with one lifted brow. "You know there are dockhands scattered liberally all around this area. Strapping young men who could toss this box around with ease, and most would do it for the cost of a smile from a pretty girl like yourself." Which isn't to say that she won't help. In spite of heeled sandals and a fluttery short skirt she crouches and takes up her end, trying to brace her feet on the deck's wood so she can drag it up. "What's in it? That doesn't look like pottery or spices to me."
Putting her weight behind giving the box a good shove upward, Bailey’s response comes out as somewhere between a snort and a grunt, “Aye, bet they’ll stand in long lines for a fat pregnant woman.” That she could simply have called over to the Orchid Rain for help doesn’t seem to have occurred to her either. With Raveki at the other end of the box it clears the top step and slides upward, without any further problems. Puffing a strand of hair out of her eyes, the sea-trader comes up the steps after it and tips a crooked smile out for the other woman, “Nope, not pottery or spices.” Bending down she hooks a finger around the lace peeking out and tugs. What slithers out is a daring little black number that is by no stretch of the imagination, a dress to be worn in public. Straightening up, the negligee still dangling from a finger, it gets held out to the dark eyed woman, “Actually, I was on my way to bring the box to you. Figured there might be some things in there your girls could use? They’re all second-hand but in very good condition, so the price is almost a steal.”
Raveki scrambles backward when the box suddenly comes free, but she's quick to straighten and smooth her skirt and hair with quick little habitual gestures. She's fine, totally meant to do that. "You are not fat," she responds, casually and offhand without the dripping reassurance some women would have. "But you also have a tall, dark and strapping of your own who probably wouldn't be too happy to see you huffing and puffing like this." A backward glance helps her find some bit of mast to lean back against, and she eyes the lace as it slips out of the box. A low whistle and her brows go up. "That whole box like that? What happened, a whole whorehouse come down with the plague or something?" But her eyes are glinting at the piece and the mentioned deal - she's far from disinterested.
“Oh jays!” Bailey exclaims as the other scrambles out of the way, “Sorry ‘bout that.” Eyeing the other woman for any ulterior motive perhaps set into that compliment and finding none, the trader’s mouth puckers into a dubious line, “Tell that to my clothes and feet. That is, if I still have feet. Haven’t seen them in ages but I’m assuming they’re still down there somewhere.” At least she tries to inject humour into the grumble. A frown is quick to follow and a furtive glance sent over the way of the hulking spice ship, “Still trying to get it into his head that I’m not made of glass. Pregnant, not crippled.” Miss Independent. Crouching in as ladylike a fashion as she can with knees off to one side, the flaps of the box are pulled back and the contents revealed. All manner of wickedly delightful undergarments and negligees lie strewn over each other in sinful array of laces and silks with even a few pairs of heels with feathered toes in the mix. A smirk deep enough to drown a tunnelsnake in appears and is then followed by low throaty laughter for the comment over whom the items may have belonged to, “Way I understand it? These were all the property of a single madam.” Slow to straighten back up again, the box is given a nudge of toe, “I can think of no better home for these than the girls at your establishment.” Pale eyes glinting with an entirely different light to what those darker ones do, “If you take the whole box, I’ll throw in all the cosmetics that came with this too. Some of them look they’ve never been touched before.”
Raveki makes a show of bending at the waist and tipping her head so she can eye the feet. "Yep, they look present and accounted for to me," she quips with a faint grin. It deepens at the assurance that she's 'just pregnant', and she shakes her head. "There is a difference between being made of glass and being a little akward because you are carrying a small person around in your body you know. I'm not sure you could have hefted that by yourself regardless." She pushes up off the mast and takes the few steps over, setting into a less ladylike crouch and letting her hands dangle between her knees. "Hmm, looks like some good stuff." A hand comes out to rifle absently through, holding this or that up to look over a bit of lace or the stitching of a strap. "I can't think of enough people who would by this sort of thing for you to sell the whole box otherwise," she counters with amusement. "And my girls tend to wear actual clothes, and then nothing at all." She mulls it over, rubbing satiny material between her fingers before shrugging. "If you give a good deal like you said, we can probably put some of it to use though."
Baby blues widen in feigned relief, “Really? They’re still down there? Oh thank goodness.” Bailey sets a light scowl over to Raveki and then a sigh washes it away, “Aye, you’re right. I just want done with it already so I can get back to my life, you know?” A flap of hand dismisses all that and attention gets firmly set on business. Well, almost. “If it weren’t for this,” that awkward lump around the middle becoming a convenient excuse, “I might well have hung onto some of the stuff myself.” A wry grin appears, “Aye, some people may take offence to me offering them such items. See it as my presuming upon their ‘good names,” the air quotes audible in her tone and the ensuring soft snort. “There’s two ways we can do this. I’ve got an inventory list of everything in there as well as individual prices for each. I can have the box delivered to the Seven for you and the ladies to go through and decide what can be used. Or, take the whole box as is for,” a price is named before continuing on, “and I’ll throw in not only the cosmetics for free, but a whole bunch of half-used bottles of perfume that came with this too.” Leaving the madam to mull over the two offers on the table, the trader moves toward a nearby crate that hasn’t made it down to her cabin yet and parks her butt on it.
For the feigned relief Raveki just has a roll of dark eyes. It shifts into blatant incredulity at the next comment though and she shakes her head. "I've never had a baby but from what I've heard this is as close to 'your life' as you're going to have for a while. Unless you're planning on getting a wet nurse or fostering it out?" She glances up from the box to catch Bailey's eyes as she asks the question and stays that way through the terms of the deal. "Oh, we might as well just take the whole box. I don't know when the girls will have time to go through it and I'd rather not have to arrange to send it back and all of that. And maybe someone will like some of the perfume too. We lost a few bottles in the break in." She reaches for the abandond bag and rummages through it for her little bag of marks. "Is it OK if I send someone to pick it up later?" The rummaging puts her hand on a cloth-wrapped package and she blinks. "Oh, shit. I forgot all about this. I am actually here to see you for a reason." Said reason gets pulled out in place of money, and she walks over to where the sea-trader is perched to hold it out in a palm-up hand.
If that was meant to offer some kind of assurance to Bailey, it falls far short of target and in fact has the opposite effect with the trader blanching under tanned skin. The question posed to her going unanswered. “Thanks, I feel so much better now,” sarcasm fitting with an expression that becomes tightly controlled, remaining in place as Raveki turns to business next. The spark that would usually ignite pale eyes for a transaction brought to a satisfactory close, fails to make an appearance, the trader merely nodding in mute agreement for someone being sent to collect the items. Eyes narrow onto the madam and finally the tiniest embers of curiosity flicker back into her expression, a smile starting to form as she holds out her hand, “Someone left you a gift for me?” Happiness filtering back in for the simple gesture, “I didn’t think anyone here even knew when my turnday was. Who was it?”
Business and babies are left in the wake of Raveki shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she looks down at the item in the woman's hand. "I don't know. He didn't leave a name. Tall guy, dark hair, hard blue eyes." She pauses to take a slow breath and adds, "Dusty hat, southern drawl... he was sort of intense and... dark?" She shrugs that last off, with a twitch of pale smile. "It didn't seem like a turnday gift or I might have brought it to you sooner. It was a few days ago. I was sort of waiting to see if any other odd people I didn't know showed up."
Only half listening to Raveki as fingers make quick work of unwrapping the cloth from the object, delight still etched across Bailey’s face for the unexpected surprise. Replaced almost instantly with thinly disguised horror when the pocket watch is revealed, the offending item dropped to the deck as if it had scorched her palm. “Where the...who...,” the sentence stopped and started several times before falling away as realization hits in for the description given. Heels of palms press against her temples, “Fuck!” The expletive all but whispered over and over again in distressed mantra.
Raveki's expression holds pensive waiting as Bailey eagerly unveils the dubious gift, with arms folded across her waist in a gesture meant to seem casual but coming across as shielding instead. When the sea-trader's face transforms, she winces a bit but if surprise flickers at all it is only in deference to the severity of the reaction, not the nature. "Bailey," she murmurs into the string of expletives, and she steps closer, reaching out a tentative hand for the other woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry to bring you something that distresses you so much but it seemed like something you should see. Do you..." she trails off, white teeth dragging at her lip as her eyes scan the nearby boats. "Do you want to talk, or do you want me to get someone for you?"
Bailey doesn’t shy away from the touch to her shoulder, in fact, she seems hardly aware of it at first. It’s Raveki’s last that snaps her back again. With some of her colour returning, she stoops, takes up the pocket watch and stands, “’Vek,” the abbreviation quickly summoned, “You need to double your guard. If that was them and Sanjo’s still here…” shaking her head in wordless implication. As to the latter part of the query put to her there’s a firm shake of head accompanied by a jerk of head in the direction of the spice ship, “No, he’s not to know of this. Not yet.”
When Bailey stands, Raveki's hand falls away, fluttering nervously back to her own side. "Double... we hardly even /have/..." she trails off and shakes her head, shoving a hand back through her hair to push it away from her face. "I think you might need to slow down and start over. These people who you said didn't reach this far... this is from them? Who is Sanjo and what-" she trails off, flicking fingers at the watch. "What does that mean?" As for not telling Rio, she just nods. Bailey's call.
Head bowing, Bailey’s hands set to her hips as she inhales a deep breath and then lets it out slowly. Nodding as if come to a decision, all panic erased and her expression grim, “He’s one of my brothers, though I can’t believe he’d have been sent up here. Only Ranulf knows, knew where I was and he’s…” out of the picture. The hand with the pocket watch opening, “No, this was personal. A message to me.” Tone brisk now, “I’m pretty sure this has nothing to do with the break in down at the Seven. The one that gave this to you. Is he still here?”
Bailey's decision draws some of the tension out of the set of Vek's shoulders, and she takes a few little shuffling steps backwards so she can retake her position against the nearest mast. "What sort of message?" Her tone is a bit flat, her dark eyes keenly assessing on the other brunette, and for Bailey's final question she just shakes her head. "I haven't seen him and it's been a few days. He seemed like he was just passing through."
Watching as Raveki retreats from her, the sea-trader’s expression offers no tell, just a curt nod for the reply over the messenger. With her mouth twisting into a dark line as she heads toward her cabin, Bailey’s laugh is low and mirthless as she answers the question put to her, “That they know where I am.” So many ‘theys’, so few definitions. Appearing moments later with a smaller box in her hands, it gets set down next to the bigger one of lingerie. Crouching next to it, “The cosmetics and perfumes,” she states picking up first one elegantly crafted glass bottle and then another. Flickering a wary glance up to the other woman leaning against the mast, “Can I count on you to keep this between just the two of us?”
One dark brow slowly arches, and while her eyes grow more intent the rest of her body grows more languid, lounging back against the wood at her back. "So you've been trying to disappear from your family? I'm sure there's a story there but I guess now's not the best time to pry." There's no chance she's missing any little tidbit Bailey drops though. At the request, her dark gaze drops and she runs the pad of her thumb across her lower lip. "I have someone who keeps an eye out on things at the Seven, and I already mentioned it to him. He's not going to say anything to anyone else, and I won't be spreading it on to anyone else." Her eyes lift and she spreads a palm-up hand - the best she can do.
Attention back to the smaller box, hands touching through the various items, some almost new and others almost empty, Bailey nods, uttering a non-committal, “Mmhm.” On the topic of whom she’s trying to avoid. “I have a preference for the choices I make, rather than the ones they sought to make -for- me.” Truth or decoy? Swivelling on her heel, hands dangling off of her knees, the sea-trader angles a narrowed look up to Raveki, “And who would this someone be? If he’s to be privy to this,” whatever ‘this’ is, “then I feel I have a right to know who’s silence I’m supposed to be trusting.”
Raveki spares the briefest of glances for the contents of the box. It's pretty clear her purchase is not at the top of her concerns at the moment. "I tend to like making my own choices too so I can't judge that." Her tone is too casual though, not quite the believing sympathy it could be. She meets the narrowed eyes with a gaze gone to steel of her her own, and she tips her chin upward just the tiniest bit. "You brought this on, Bailey. Your... brother or whoever he is showed up in /my/ bar, and who knows what comes next. It's my responsibility to keep my establishment and more importantly, my girls safe. You just told me to double my guard, which the Weyr provides for the most part. It's going to be hard enough doing that without telling Loe or someone what you have going on." A little twitch of her head is almost a negating shake but not quite. "I'll let him tell you if he wants. But you'll just have to trust me, and trust him for now. It isn't like I chose to be the bearer of this 'gift'."
Bailey lets the first words go, offering simply a wry snort of amusement as response. It’s the rest that draws her slowly to her feet once again, a brow arching upward, expression turning hard as sarcasm bleeds through into her tone, “Aye, because I planned this all out to the last detail. Turning up here out of nowhere, latching onto Candlario, lulling you and everyone else into a false sense of security by pretending to be friendly, the break in, and the messenger with the watch. All of it.” Snorting roughly for the ‘confession’ as she turns away from the boxes. Trust, is not a part of this woman’s nature, as evidenced by the sceptical light in her eyes, “You know what? Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m done.” Probably because she’s likely to be gone by morning.
Raveki just stays where she is, her body relaxed though a muscle in her jaw tightens in the face of Bailey's onslaught. "Listen," the single word is low, calm, barely more than a whisper. "I don't know anything about Candlario or the rest of it, that's none of my business, and I don't think you are the one who orchestrated the break-in, or even that it is related to the watch. All I am saying is that /you/? Are not my concern. The Seven and the girls are my concern. I will hold my tongue where you are concerned and I am certain he will do the same as long as he feels our safety isn't threatened." She pauses to take a slow breath, then tips her head, quizzical. "Can you honestly say you'd do any different?"
Intent, the latch of pale eyes onto Raveki as she speaks. Once she's done Bailey's shoulders roll in an indifferent shrug, "Don't need your concern or anyone else's for that matter. Just your silence, and his." The grate to tone indication of annoyance for the other woman's refusal to give up a name. Residence is once again taken up on the crate she'd vacated earlier, "I'd not get the weyr involved," is what she'd do differently, or what she's hoping Raveki might be persuaded to do, "I'd put one of them big dockhands on extra watch for a night or two until I was sure that messenger wasn't coming back and leave it at that."
Raveki just pushes up off of the mast, relieving it of her weight as she heads toward the dock. "I'll take care of mine and you take care of yours, how's that for a plan?" For a visit that started out friendly, Raveki's voice is cool and flat, though still not as full of emotion as it probably should be. "If anyone else odd shows up I'll let you know." She pauses to lift her chin to the parcels. "And I'll be watching for those by tonight."
Initially, if there's any regret for the way the visit turned out, Bailey doesn't show it. Her agreement to the first is there in the level look and slight dip of head. "Get a name next time," she counters with on the topic of strange messengers and then flicks a look down onto the boxes and back up to Raveki, "Before dark falls," she confirms, tone and expression neutral. It'll only be once the departing woman's back is turned, when she won't see the remorse and shadows darkening pale eyes, that two words will barely be given voice and sent after her. "I'm sorry."
Raveki's feet pause on the wood of the dock at the suggestion to get a name, and the line of her back stiffens. It's safe to assume there's some sharp reply on her lips, but she just shakes her head and resumes her quick path to the beach. It's not likely that anything else is going to get much of a reaction if that didn't, so when the apology filters down to her she just lifts a hand and keeps walking.