What's the fun in playing it safe?

[sonotahunter]

Who: Bela Talbot, OPEN.
Where: A speakeasy in the eastern part of the city, fronted by a perfumery. It's the picture of patchwork elegance, once you get past the carefully cleaned, half-empty ranks of multicolored scent bottles. There's two doors in the 'stock' room--one leads to a tidy office, the other leads down a long flight of stairs with

Comments

[amagicalmystery]

It had been a long three years since the Master had taken over the city, and hellhole though it was, Etienne had to admit it was a profitable hellhole. The ugly regime cast many a soul on the margins, looking for all manner of contraband and the highly valuable information a police state fostered. And he made a fine runner for hire - a man who knew the shadows and could slip into them as easily as if they were alive and able to swallow him up. 'Shadow Man' had quickly become his moniker, a useful handle when your real name became an easy link to you

[sonotahunter]

A tiny smile flickers across her face. "I question your terminology, Dr. Facilier." She gestured for him to join her, and Sark pulled a chair out from her table without a word before drifting away, out of earshot and close enough to attack just the same.

"A drink for your thoughts?"

[amagicalmystery]

"Bourbon and Coke." He slid into the offered chair, meeting her amused eyes and matching her smile with a cool smirk of his own. "And I said it just fine."

He leaned forward, though, voice dropping just a little before he continued. "Our Esteemed Master made the options clear," and he said the flourish to the title with a hint of cheerful sarcasm. "Just wondering where you're throwin' your lot in. Either way, it's good business for me."

[sonotahunter]

A waiter appeared with his drink in short order, and a scotch for Bela herself. "He always makes our options clear, Facilier. I'm quite sure I'm due for an execution any day now."

She took a thoughtful slug of her drink and tapped her finger against her lips in a mocking hush gesture. "The question to ask is of course, what action benefits myself and my establishment in the long run? There's some weight to the thought that our dear Lord and Master harbors a certain fear of these people and what they can do, which in turn leads to the question of their purpose here."

Bela takes another hit from her glass, her eyes twinkling. "Oh how long it's been since someone put a Queen into play in this global chess game of his. The moves of the pawns might actually make some difference in coming days, no?"

Open

[deathmerciful]

The raids were random as all hell, but the weekly bribe handing over was clockwork. Louis was once an honest man with an honest and profitable business in the colony. During that time he had despised coming down here beneath the swill of it all. He was a father after all. A family man. That all changed when the Master appeared. There were so few places on top that you could actually unwind to drown your sorrows undetected

[sonotahunter]

There was little that happened in Bela's establishment that she didn't know about.

She also knew what didn't happen. Louis, she knew his name--she knew he came by with regularity, and knew he ordered something expensive which he never drank.

There were reasons for that, though only a few. As long as he paid for his drink and didn't bring trouble, she didn't care what his were. She saluted him with her own beverage, taking a sip as her gaze turned back toward the stage and its singer.

Open; multi-threads are cool.

[always_thewoman]

The night was in full-swing - booze flowing, men laughing, and above all this the music poured from the far end of the room. The band was a small group of lively but worn-down looking men dressed in suits that, though immaculately pressed, had seen better days. Their instruments were slightly scuffed, but they played with a vigor that was, in spite of the hard times, admirable

[sonotahunter]

Bela drifted over to join her, flickering benign smiles at some of the regulars. She herself was dressed as a businesswoman, hair drawn back into a loose bun, her charcoal suit drawn over a waistcoat and crisp white shirt. Trousers, not a skirt; skirts and dresses were for pleasure, and today had been largely about business.

She tapped her straight cane lightly against her palm as she slid onto the stool next to Irene. "As beautiful as ever, and in every respect."

The bartender nods to Bela, starting to mix a second drink without needing the order. She lays her cane on the bar and rolls it back and forth fractionally. "Exciting around here lately, wouldn't you say?"

[always_thewoman]

Irene inclined her head fractionally at Bela's compliment, a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. It was praise, but nothing more than could be expected - it was her job to be beautiful. Being alluring kept the trade routes running smoothly, kept illegal items moving from hand to hand. She was lovely, yes, but it wasn't without purpose, and so she chose to let the praise slip past unremarked upon. The waiter brought her a tall, thin glass full of a clear liquid, which Irene sipped at idly, her manicured nails tapping gently against the glass.

Irene made a quiet noise of agreement. "That's one way to put it," she replied, dropping the cocktail cherry into her mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. "He does like to hear himself talk, that one." She lifted her eyes to glance dismissively up at the speakers that the broadcast had come pouring out of. "Do you think they'll be coming around here, those Barge people?" If anyone would know, Irene thought, it'd be Bela.

[sonotahunter]

"So do most with little to say." Bela sipped from her own martini glass, staring into space with a look of pure calculation in her eyes. "One might suppose they could find their way here--I'll need to switch out the staff upstairs. Most of them are well enough, but there's a few I don't trust not to fly off to the nearest government outpost should a fugitive show his or her face. One can hardly weigh cost-benefit ratios without a soul or two to say what those benefits might be."

[sonotahunter]

A pretty young woman in a tidy--if somewhat worn--black dress appears from stock room, offering him a polite smile that doesn't quite match the nervousness in her eyes. "Can I help you, sir?"

When he says he has an appointment, she licks her lips. "Please wait here, sir. I need confirmation."

She vanishes again, back into the back--and downstairs to get Bela's second in command.

FUCK TENSES. FUCK THEM SO HARD.

[onlyhalfserious]

Sark emerged a few moments later, sans the shopgirl. He gave the perfumery a cursory glance around before approaching McCullen, absolutely no familiarity in his gaze at all. The only comfort was the fact that he looked completely unchanged from when he was on the Barge.

"Mr. McCullen, I presume?" He said, offering a hand. "I'm sorry to trouble you, but, you see, we keep the item you're searching for in one of the storerooms. It's very rare, you see. I'd hardly want to display it in... Well, you've seen the mess out there, haven't you?"

He waved to one of the two doors. "If you'll come right this way, we can retrieve it together."

He arched a brow, clearly urging McCullen to play along with his show of theatrics. He trusted their Lord and Master about as far as he could throw him- if the man had ears in this section of town, he certainly didn't want anyone spreading rumors about this place.