5. Let's Steampunkesque this bitchSindre stared coldly at yet another man who had passed too close to Willem as he quickened his own step. No way to guard the other's back if he were too far away
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Willem looked around as well, hand sliding towards the gun beneath this jacket. He didn't grab for it, but made himself ready to do so at any time.
"Anybody else I'd say they were paranoid, but you I believe," he replied, surprised when that came out of his mouth as well as in his head. Ignoring it, he caught the other man's eye.
"Shop or estate? The shop is closer but the estates more guarded."
Why was he babbling? This wouldn't be his first fight, and he wasn't usually a man to let every thought cross his lips.
"Estate," Sindre immediately replied. A bit more distance wouldn't be too much trouble, but a lack of security might.
He glanced around at the crowds, the increase in people, the way they were increasing. The streets were getting clogged, fast. Not for the first time, he longed to be able to get to the roofs, but he doubted the merchant could follow him up there.
"The estate would be better," he replied, mentally kicking himself for stating the obvious. To make up for it he gestured for Sindre to follow as he set off at a brisk pace. An effort that was immediately ruined as he informed the man that he was glad Sindre was with him. That he felt safer that way. He nearly paused at that, mind a jumble as he tried to to figure out just what the hell had taken over his mouth.
Sindre almost stumbled in shock at the words coming from Willem's mouth. The other man should have never admitted such a thing to him.
He cast Willem a sidelong look. It might be best to choose speed over security after all. "There's an old bolt hole near here," he offered. "It'd get us off the streets quickest. But it's not as defensible as your estate. Not as...nice."
One more sidelong glance at Willem, and Sindre sped up, leading Willem into a back alley. "Stay on my tail," he instructed lowly. "This will get us to your estate faster, but if you lose me you'll likely stay lost."
And with that, he entered a tea shop, passing through to the back. Slipping the owner a coin, he went through into a back cupboard, tugging aside a panel to reveal a staircase down.
"This heads to the Arcane," he explained. "And not the part tourists--" he cut himself off with a glance at Willem, "--people of breeding would wander into. So don't think any forays into the black markets or red streets you may have taken as a boy to prove your courage will aid you. They're a labyrinth a'porpose."
He was, mercifully, able to keep his mouth shut until they had gone through the door and were alone on the stairs.
"If it's that bad, I'm glad you and your brother are working for me and can live somewhere better."
Sindre had already told him they needed to keep moving, and it was a testament to how much he valued the other man's input that he kept walking instead of banging his head against the nearest wall the moment the words left his mouth.
Sindre shot Wilm a look to see if he were serious before breaking into laughter. "It's not bad for me," he said, albeit in a lower tone. "I know this place. I'm fine here."
He inclined his head ever so slightly toward Willem. "It's the flats that have to be on their guard."
Sindre gave Wilm a side eye. "They're flats 'cause they're flats," he explained, puzzled. "'s what they're called."
At the second question, Sindre just shrugged. "Only casin'. Valdi 'n I were well enough that I took only paid-for jobs, an' no one ever paid me to take from you. An' then, it ain't no sense stealin' from a payin' customer."
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He stopped speaking for a moment to casually slide in between Wilm and the girl passing by, deflecting the hand going for Wilm's purse effortlessly.
"But something's setting my teeth on edge," he continued. "Not sure what. But it's there."
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"Anybody else I'd say they were paranoid, but you I believe," he replied, surprised when that came out of his mouth as well as in his head. Ignoring it, he caught the other man's eye.
"Shop or estate? The shop is closer but the estates more guarded."
Why was he babbling? This wouldn't be his first fight, and he wasn't usually a man to let every thought cross his lips.
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He glanced around at the crowds, the increase in people, the way they were increasing. The streets were getting clogged, fast. Not for the first time, he longed to be able to get to the roofs, but he doubted the merchant could follow him up there.
"We should get off the street."
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He cast Willem a sidelong look. It might be best to choose speed over security after all. "There's an old bolt hole near here," he offered. "It'd get us off the streets quickest. But it's not as defensible as your estate. Not as...nice."
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He glanced around the street.
"And the estate is familiar ground, with food weapons and better beds."
He really hoped whatever danger was lurking nearby wasn't listening in, because apparently he couldn't keep his mouth closed to save his life.
He really really hoped it didn't come down to that.
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And with that, he entered a tea shop, passing through to the back. Slipping the owner a coin, he went through into a back cupboard, tugging aside a panel to reveal a staircase down.
"This heads to the Arcane," he explained. "And not the part tourists--" he cut himself off with a glance at Willem, "--people of breeding would wander into. So don't think any forays into the black markets or red streets you may have taken as a boy to prove your courage will aid you. They're a labyrinth a'porpose."
And with that, he ducked through and headed down.
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"If it's that bad, I'm glad you and your brother are working for me and can live somewhere better."
Sindre had already told him they needed to keep moving, and it was a testament to how much he valued the other man's input that he kept walking instead of banging his head against the nearest wall the moment the words left his mouth.
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He inclined his head ever so slightly toward Willem. "It's the flats that have to be on their guard."
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"Why flats?"
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"Because flats are easy marks."
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"Yes, but why the term flats?"
A thought made me turn to look at his employee.
"Was I ever one of your marks?"
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At the second question, Sindre just shrugged. "Only casin'. Valdi 'n I were well enough that I took only paid-for jobs, an' no one ever paid me to take from you. An' then, it ain't no sense stealin' from a payin' customer."
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