[AIM LOG/COMPLETE]
WHO: Kristoph Gavin (myscarsmiles) Spanner (divaricatore)
WHAT: the discussion of concealable weaponry
WHERE: Spanner's workshop
WHEN: BACKDATED: A week before the Fashion Show (Day.. 17?)
KRISTOPH GAVIN: Now this was interesting. Here he was, in Monacello territory, seeking out a weapons dealer to sneak a weapon into a Monacello fashion show. These sorts of things amused him, most definitely. What put the icing on the cake, though, was that he was here on recommendation from a Monacello caporegime. One he liked, but nevertheless, a Monacello. He hated these parts of town, hated beggars and squalor and all sorts of things he fought, tooth and claw, to get out of. Those that did touch him got a good cut on the knuckles, and the rest learned and left him alone. Satisfied, he slipped the knife back into his inner blazer pocket and continued on to the address given to him.
He should have brought Mazikeen, really. If this was a trap, he'd probably be in a lot of trouble very soon. That didn't seem like a thing Gin would do, though. And if that was something he did, well, Kristoph was very sad to have known him at all. Ah, well. He didn't want to call her now.
The storefront was small and unassuming, and Kristoph knocked and stepped back, crossing his hands against his chest, ready to pull a weapon if something deadly happened.
SPANNER: The alarm rang just as Spanner was finishing a coat of rust-protection spray on the newly-made blade. Pushing his goggles up and resting them on the mess of blond hair, the mechanic turned to the right and adjusted the monitor screen propped on the wall just beside him. There was a man standing outside of his shop, arms crossed and emanating an air of arrogance.
Spanner's PC did not notify him that he had an appointment. It was likely that the man was referred here by one of his many clients. But it would've been better to contact him via phone or email for an appointment first, nonetheless. He reached for the remote inside the front pocket of his overalls, pushing the buttons so that the front door outside opened with a quiet rumble.
The clothes Spanner was wearing were not fitting to greet a customer with, but he had no time to change. Tossing the goggles down on the floor, the mechanic set down the spray bottle and proceeded to greet the unexpected guest.
"Welcome," Spanner nodded to the blond man as he emerged into the front of his shop.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Hello," He said, and smiled, giving the man a quick glance over. In all honesty, he looked just like a mechanic, no ifs, ands, or buts, right down to the goggles pushing back his blonde hair. It was a check to both his and Ichimaru's credibility. Part of him wished that he could make some small talk, find out more about how this man knew Gin, what he had done for him, what Kristoph should be on the look out for, but he had a feeling that this man had a brain in his head (such a rarity, these days) and might not discuss such matters.
Ah, well, he thought to himself. With the fashion show coming up, he simply didn't have time to wheedle around and beat bushes and pry for information, even if that was what he was best at. "I'm sorry if I"ve interrupted something."
SPANNER: "No, not at all." Spanner replied, waving away the concern in the man's voice. "I'm sorry for gretting you looking like this. Was just working on some parts, y'see." From what he could gather from his guest, from the man's crisp suit to his neatly plaited mane of hair, this person was not one to take sloppy clothing lightly. But there was nothing he could do, really.
"Please have a seat." The least he could do was offer some resemblance of courtesy, after all, this man was referred here by one of his client, and he could not make the good word turn sour. A hand gestured towards a set of chairs just before the counter where he was standing, and Spanner himself slid onto the stool just behind it. "What can I help you with?"
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Oh, it's nothing. Personally, I think clothes that show your trade add a touch of credibility, mm?" He paused, taking a seat and glancing around. So many gizmos and widgets. It was tempting to poke, but he knew better, and he had self-control. So he sat, hands in his lap as he looked back to Spanner, focusing his attention there. "I was recommended by another of your clients. They told me you were a weapon-maker of some expertise. Looking around, I can see the complement was well-founded."
He paused, measured up Spanner and quietly picked apart what to say and not say. How to go about asking a man for a garrote? Hmm. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his, which, as far as garrotes went, was fairly plain. Nearly invisible wire held between two steel dowels. "I am looking for a highly concealable garrote. Even moreso then this one."
SPANNER: At the mention of garrote, Spanner's mind immediately went to Ichimaru. He was the only one that knew about the special garotte that the mechanic sold him. It was the only garrote that he had, really. Spanner was more famous as a firearms specialist, with more emphasis on guns and projectile weapons, and he could not think of anyone else that would recommend this man to come here for a custom garrote.
Taking his guest's weapon in his hands, Spanner studied the design - it was a standard, medium-grade style, effective, but yes, easily detectable. "Was the person to refer you here Ichimaru Gin by any chance?" He wanted to make sure, that way he would know how to make a garrote similar to what Ichimaru had - innocent looking on the outside and packing deadly wires in the inside.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Ah, yes..." He smiled. "It was him, indeed. We spoke, briefly, a few nights ago, and talked about work and getting things done....He mentioned your name. I'm quite fond of my own, mm?" His eyes flicked towards the weapon in Spanner's hands. "It has served me well for a long, long time. Yet, it might be difficult to hide it. He spoke of... rings."
He arched an eyebrow in question.
SPANNER: "Yes, yes... The garrote I sold to Mr. Ichimaru was in the form of rings." Spanner nodded, fiddling with the metal dowel. "They look just like those normal silver bands, but with a few right twists here and there, they make a deadly weapon." He looked up at the bespectacled man, then down to his fingers, sizing up the width of those appendages.
"I assume you want me to make you the same thing? Or at least something similar?" His prototype was gone, but the design was clearly imprinted in Spanner's mind. Reproducing it would not be a hard job.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: At Spanner's glance, Kristoph held out a hand to the mechanic. His skin was flawless, nails delicately manicured, and gave no hint to all the blood that might have been under those painted nails. He had narrow fingers, too. "That is precisely what I'd like, Mr. Spanner. I imagine I hiding it in plain sight is the best one can do, mm?"
SPANNER: Nodding, Spanner opened a drawer under the counter surface, taking out a roll of tape measure and carefully wrapped it around the man's middle finger. About two inches in circumference, about the same size as the prototype that Ichimaru had. The tape measure retreated and was tossed back inside that same drawer after Spanner had committed the size into his mind.
"It would take me about a week. Is that okay?"
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "That's perfectly fine." He pulled his hand back and stood up. He had a good feeling about Spanner, and about this little secret, just in case. One always had be careful, after all, even if the place should be safe. Kristoph hasn't gotten to where he was by relying on external safeguards. He straightened his lapels and smiled. "What do I owe you for that?"
SPANNER: "Mm... I'd say about five million liras. Same price as Mr. Ichimaru's garrote." Cost of the materials wan't nearly as much as the labor cost, for making something as delicate as that required much attention and focus on details. "It will be ready for you in a week. Mr...?" Spanner trailed off, suddenly remembering that he had neglected to ask his customer's name.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Gavin. Kristoph." He offered a slim hand again to shake, his cordial smile still in place. "It's been very nice doing business with you. Can I wire the money into your account when I return home?"
SPANNER: Reaching out with his own hand, Spanner shook the man's slender limb. "Of course. Any way most convenient to you would be fine." His lips curled into a smile in return. "Please come again, Mr. Gavin. I'm glad to be of service."
KRISTOPH GAVIN: For looking so, well, dainty, Kristoph had a surprisingly strong handshake. "I will most certainly be returning if you're as talented as I have been told. So far, the praise has held up well. Have a good evening then, Mr. Spanner."
WHAT: the discussion of concealable weaponry
WHERE: Spanner's workshop
WHEN: BACKDATED: A week before the Fashion Show (Day.. 17?)
KRISTOPH GAVIN: Now this was interesting. Here he was, in Monacello territory, seeking out a weapons dealer to sneak a weapon into a Monacello fashion show. These sorts of things amused him, most definitely. What put the icing on the cake, though, was that he was here on recommendation from a Monacello caporegime. One he liked, but nevertheless, a Monacello. He hated these parts of town, hated beggars and squalor and all sorts of things he fought, tooth and claw, to get out of. Those that did touch him got a good cut on the knuckles, and the rest learned and left him alone. Satisfied, he slipped the knife back into his inner blazer pocket and continued on to the address given to him.
He should have brought Mazikeen, really. If this was a trap, he'd probably be in a lot of trouble very soon. That didn't seem like a thing Gin would do, though. And if that was something he did, well, Kristoph was very sad to have known him at all. Ah, well. He didn't want to call her now.
The storefront was small and unassuming, and Kristoph knocked and stepped back, crossing his hands against his chest, ready to pull a weapon if something deadly happened.
SPANNER: The alarm rang just as Spanner was finishing a coat of rust-protection spray on the newly-made blade. Pushing his goggles up and resting them on the mess of blond hair, the mechanic turned to the right and adjusted the monitor screen propped on the wall just beside him. There was a man standing outside of his shop, arms crossed and emanating an air of arrogance.
Spanner's PC did not notify him that he had an appointment. It was likely that the man was referred here by one of his many clients. But it would've been better to contact him via phone or email for an appointment first, nonetheless. He reached for the remote inside the front pocket of his overalls, pushing the buttons so that the front door outside opened with a quiet rumble.
The clothes Spanner was wearing were not fitting to greet a customer with, but he had no time to change. Tossing the goggles down on the floor, the mechanic set down the spray bottle and proceeded to greet the unexpected guest.
"Welcome," Spanner nodded to the blond man as he emerged into the front of his shop.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Hello," He said, and smiled, giving the man a quick glance over. In all honesty, he looked just like a mechanic, no ifs, ands, or buts, right down to the goggles pushing back his blonde hair. It was a check to both his and Ichimaru's credibility. Part of him wished that he could make some small talk, find out more about how this man knew Gin, what he had done for him, what Kristoph should be on the look out for, but he had a feeling that this man had a brain in his head (such a rarity, these days) and might not discuss such matters.
Ah, well, he thought to himself. With the fashion show coming up, he simply didn't have time to wheedle around and beat bushes and pry for information, even if that was what he was best at. "I'm sorry if I"ve interrupted something."
SPANNER: "No, not at all." Spanner replied, waving away the concern in the man's voice. "I'm sorry for gretting you looking like this. Was just working on some parts, y'see." From what he could gather from his guest, from the man's crisp suit to his neatly plaited mane of hair, this person was not one to take sloppy clothing lightly. But there was nothing he could do, really.
"Please have a seat." The least he could do was offer some resemblance of courtesy, after all, this man was referred here by one of his client, and he could not make the good word turn sour. A hand gestured towards a set of chairs just before the counter where he was standing, and Spanner himself slid onto the stool just behind it. "What can I help you with?"
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Oh, it's nothing. Personally, I think clothes that show your trade add a touch of credibility, mm?" He paused, taking a seat and glancing around. So many gizmos and widgets. It was tempting to poke, but he knew better, and he had self-control. So he sat, hands in his lap as he looked back to Spanner, focusing his attention there. "I was recommended by another of your clients. They told me you were a weapon-maker of some expertise. Looking around, I can see the complement was well-founded."
He paused, measured up Spanner and quietly picked apart what to say and not say. How to go about asking a man for a garrote? Hmm. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his, which, as far as garrotes went, was fairly plain. Nearly invisible wire held between two steel dowels. "I am looking for a highly concealable garrote. Even moreso then this one."
SPANNER: At the mention of garrote, Spanner's mind immediately went to Ichimaru. He was the only one that knew about the special garotte that the mechanic sold him. It was the only garrote that he had, really. Spanner was more famous as a firearms specialist, with more emphasis on guns and projectile weapons, and he could not think of anyone else that would recommend this man to come here for a custom garrote.
Taking his guest's weapon in his hands, Spanner studied the design - it was a standard, medium-grade style, effective, but yes, easily detectable. "Was the person to refer you here Ichimaru Gin by any chance?" He wanted to make sure, that way he would know how to make a garrote similar to what Ichimaru had - innocent looking on the outside and packing deadly wires in the inside.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Ah, yes..." He smiled. "It was him, indeed. We spoke, briefly, a few nights ago, and talked about work and getting things done....He mentioned your name. I'm quite fond of my own, mm?" His eyes flicked towards the weapon in Spanner's hands. "It has served me well for a long, long time. Yet, it might be difficult to hide it. He spoke of... rings."
He arched an eyebrow in question.
SPANNER: "Yes, yes... The garrote I sold to Mr. Ichimaru was in the form of rings." Spanner nodded, fiddling with the metal dowel. "They look just like those normal silver bands, but with a few right twists here and there, they make a deadly weapon." He looked up at the bespectacled man, then down to his fingers, sizing up the width of those appendages.
"I assume you want me to make you the same thing? Or at least something similar?" His prototype was gone, but the design was clearly imprinted in Spanner's mind. Reproducing it would not be a hard job.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: At Spanner's glance, Kristoph held out a hand to the mechanic. His skin was flawless, nails delicately manicured, and gave no hint to all the blood that might have been under those painted nails. He had narrow fingers, too. "That is precisely what I'd like, Mr. Spanner. I imagine I hiding it in plain sight is the best one can do, mm?"
SPANNER: Nodding, Spanner opened a drawer under the counter surface, taking out a roll of tape measure and carefully wrapped it around the man's middle finger. About two inches in circumference, about the same size as the prototype that Ichimaru had. The tape measure retreated and was tossed back inside that same drawer after Spanner had committed the size into his mind.
"It would take me about a week. Is that okay?"
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "That's perfectly fine." He pulled his hand back and stood up. He had a good feeling about Spanner, and about this little secret, just in case. One always had be careful, after all, even if the place should be safe. Kristoph hasn't gotten to where he was by relying on external safeguards. He straightened his lapels and smiled. "What do I owe you for that?"
SPANNER: "Mm... I'd say about five million liras. Same price as Mr. Ichimaru's garrote." Cost of the materials wan't nearly as much as the labor cost, for making something as delicate as that required much attention and focus on details. "It will be ready for you in a week. Mr...?" Spanner trailed off, suddenly remembering that he had neglected to ask his customer's name.
KRISTOPH GAVIN: "Gavin. Kristoph." He offered a slim hand again to shake, his cordial smile still in place. "It's been very nice doing business with you. Can I wire the money into your account when I return home?"
SPANNER: Reaching out with his own hand, Spanner shook the man's slender limb. "Of course. Any way most convenient to you would be fine." His lips curled into a smile in return. "Please come again, Mr. Gavin. I'm glad to be of service."
KRISTOPH GAVIN: For looking so, well, dainty, Kristoph had a surprisingly strong handshake. "I will most certainly be returning if you're as talented as I have been told. So far, the praise has held up well. Have a good evening then, Mr. Spanner."