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Gegenji · **03-02-2015, 11:55 AM**

The Judge's finger sandwich took longer than one might have expected for it to be brought to him. Perhaps due to the establishment's servers not wanting to have much to do with such an exacting wall of crafted steel and black-and-white temperament, or perhaps it was because the sandwich itself was being made to such rigorous specifications. The man had snapped a martini glass over a nebulous answer, even if he had apologized and paid for it afterward, so it wasn't so untoward to wonder what his response to an improperly made sandwich might be.

Jredthys himself seemed to not be thinking much on such matters, though. He had placed the order, and thus it would be brought to him when it was ready - no sooner and no later. Until then, he had his martini to keep him company, though he made certain to nurse it accordingly. One should not have a meal without drink and one should not overindulge in drink, both rules implying he should ensure a goodly portion of his martini remained in its glass for now. Forbidden: Drunkenness, Recommended: Moderation.

It was Momodi herself who brought his meal out to him, perhaps being the only one willing to approach the Judge. She sent a few exasperated glances over her shoulder even as she places the plate down before him, lending some credence to the idea, before moving on to attending the other customers. Or getting the attentions of those under her employ and getting them to attend to said customers. After all, what was the point of having servers if she was still stuck doing all the work herself?

This left Jredthys to inspect his sandwich. A tense air seemed to fall around him, as if he had just entered a courtroom and the finger food the accused. Sharp eyes glowered from within the depths of his helmet as he began his inspection of the evidence.

Walnut bread, yes. A couple cursory nudges of an armored finger revealed a light crinkling combined with an almost equal amount of yield. He did this with both halves - a ratio he would check in due time - and on both sides of the sandwich. As he finally retracted the probing finger, he gave a curt nod. It had been toasted to an appropriate degree, perhaps with a bit of butter glaze to add to the crispness and flavor.

Next, the Judge lifted the topmost piece of bread and counted. One... and two leaves of lettuce. Another inspection proved them lightly damp and crisp, with the wetness only just starting to seep into piece of bread that covered it. It had been added last, as was proper. Yes, good.

Thirdly was the eggs, which even the casual-est glance could show that they had been hard-boiled and sliced as requested. However, whether they had been properly boiled and cut into the proper half-ilm segments was still to be answered. The lettuce had been moved to join the top-most slices of bread, and one egg slice was removed from its resting place to be examined. It was squeezed lightly to ensure proper rubbery consistence, and it was compared to the distance betwixt fingertip and knuckle to ensure it was of proper thickness. He proceeded to do this check with every single piece of egg, silently berating himself for not coming to the establishment with a ruler on his person for more exacting measurements.

With the two sandwich halves neatly and appropriately disassembled for inspection, what came next was the simple task of reassembling them. Each piece was returned exactly to where it had been, as if he had taken a series of photographs of each step before he had done them in order to recreate it in reverse. In short order, one wouldn't have even known he had taken the sandwich apart in the first place. Of course, those that saw the whole thing unfold were still likely giving him odd looks that he either did not notice due to his intense focus or outright ignored as irrelevant to the matter at hand.

Now came the simple matter of ensuring both halves had truly been cut into...

Wait. Wait wait wait. Wait.

These were not perfect halves. It certainly started well enough, but there had obviously been a second cut made during the division process. From the looks of it, the toasted crust of the bread had deflected the blade somewhat. This led to a minute deviation - a minor arc - less than half of a finger-width from the crust. So close to perfection, so close to proper halves, and yet it was not.

This had to be corrected. Snatching a knife from another tavern-goer with surprising speed and deftness, the Judge leaned in and caused a similar divot into the other half of the sandwich. This left two thin tubes of bread, and these offending pieces of imperfection were summarily ground to nothingness in his armored fist. He examined both halves of the sandwich again. Yes, now they were perfect halves.

"MY THANKS," he intoned neatly as he returned the knife to its original owner, who was now free to finish cutting into his aldgoat steak. It had all happened with such speed, such suddenness, such intensity that the Hyur could do little more than just nod dumbly and stare at the armored behemoth for a few seconds while limply holding his returned knife. Stare as Jredthys finally settled down to actually eating his sandwich. His exactingly formulated, (now) perfectly sliced finger sandwich. With the appropriate amount of martini to accompany it.

This would be a fine meal indeed.

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Coatleque · **03-02-2015, 05:49 PM**

The door from Pearl Lane swung open as Ser Crofte entered with a somewhat authoritative stride. She took two steps right to the railing and observed the room before crossing towards the bar. Having come to the end of her round she decided to stop here momentarily before heading back to her office.

She stood between the bar areas and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. As her gaze scanned the room she noticed the man sitting to her side and found herself watching him inspect and mutilate a sandwich. Every time she thought he was about to take a bite, there was something else which needed inspection. The shaving off of the sliver was the final straw though.

"By the Twelve, will you just EAT it?!"

Gegenji · **03-03-2015, 12:44 PM**

"YES."

The answer had barely finished rumbling out of the depths of the armor before the visor was lifted again with a quiet creak of well-maintained metal. The first of the two sandwich halves was picked up gingerly and yet firmly, gauntleted fingertips placed so that it would make the journey in one piece. The finger food was thusly cast into the void within the helmet, and it did not return. The other half only had a few moments to reflect its own fate as the Judge partook of his martini, and whatever thoughts it could have or might have had were lost forever as it too joined its kin in the darkness. A final draining of the glass' contents and Jredthys' meal was concluded.

Judge took a moment to reflect on the meal afterward, folding his hands neatly as he had when he had first arrived - his straight-backed and not-seemingly-very-relaxed-at-all "relaxed" position. Other than the minor snafu with the slicing of the sandwich itself, it had been made to his specifications. The walnut bread had indeed been lightly buttered during the toasting process, which - while neither formally requested nor forbidden - had added a pleasant crunch and additional flavor to the already savory treat. He would have to be certain to request it be done again in the future. The Quicksand was certainly worth all the praise that it received, and he would be just as certain to return as well should the time properly allow for such things.

He turned then to gauge the source of the sudden urging, and Jredthys' eyes narrowed a bit within the sanctity of his helmet. It would be hard not to place her as one of the Ul'dah's elite royal guard - the Sultansworn. Even if she hadn't been wearing their standard garb, the way she carried herself was not unlike most Paladins of high station. He had seen quite a few over his many years. Was she here on a mission for the Sultana, or merely seeking recreation like himself?

If it was the latter, perhaps she too was interested in light conversation. She had initiated such with him after all. Perhaps it might even be better than the rule-violating one he had so briefly entertained with the masked Miqo'te of vexing gray viewpoints. But what to speak of? Ah, of course, there was only one thing to properly speak of here.

"IT WAS PROPERLY MADE AND OF GOOD TASTE," he intoned, motioning lightly to now-empty plate. All that was left of his meal was a light dusting of bread crumbs. "RECOMMENDED."

Warren Castille · **03-03-2015, 12:51 PM**

"Limsa's a long walk from here. What's brought you to these parts, besides work breaking rocks?" There was just something to speaking to the people who toiled for their keep instead of collecting vast sums from investment. Perhaps it was because of Warren's own heritage and the path he took to carve his place in life, but he felt like a commoner in armor more than any sort of proper or noble "ser."

He was dimly aware of the heavy armor-clad figure and his meal, though while solitary Warren had little reason to be concerned. He didn't seem the sort to suddenly have a beef with the crowd in general and start throwing chairs.

Telluride · **03-03-2015, 08:50 PM**

He must have touched the brim of his hat a number of times as the fair Cliodhna regaled him with talents, interests and skills he'd not suspected of her, for when she trailed off, it was awfully close to coming off of his head. He pulled it back down, covering the top of his forehead, and clucked his tongue.

"I don't suppose that if I were sweet enough to you, and plied you with enough bottles of Madjack Red, that you'd consider building me an airship, my dear? As much as I enjoy a good walk, there's just something, well, epic-sounding about the idea of loading up a troupe and all their gear into the air, and coming down to earth to a huddle of gawking fans..."

The entry of the recognizable Sultansworn popped into his consciousness, and trailed him off as well, as he realized who she was talking to. He rubbed his chin, nearly without even thinking about it, before continuing his talk with his table-mate.

"Looks like it just went double or nothing on that rumble you were hoping for."

Star Lin · **03-04-2015, 08:34 AM**

"Ah, she is a long walk," Kestlona said, giving the highlander a quick smile, "and almost as long by boat."Â She look thoughtful, how much to say without giving too much about the Wanders away.Â "My first teacher," she said, pulling out her puglist weapons and setting them on the table for Warren to see.Â The weapons were well care for, though they were still beginner weapons.Â "Before he went 'wandering' off," knowingly loading the word with more meaning then she probably meant too, "he said that I need to learn better control."

Her eyes shifted over to the bar, sitting up just a little straighter, concern growing in her.Â Yet, relax when she realize that her table partner didn't seem that concern.Â Still she kept her ear open in that direction, just in case.Â "The guildmaster is great," she said, eyes lighting up as she remember the couple of times that she had stood at the railing and watch how he handle his students, "but with all of the students that he and the other master are working with..."Â She shrug her shoulders, knowing that she got lost in with the mix.

"So, I've been plying at mining to bring in some extra gil."Â It also didn't hurt that the fading spell allow her to get close to a certain beast tribe camp, notebook in hand to start learning their language on her own.

Warren Castille · **03-04-2015, 08:49 AM**

Warren listened politely as the friendly Roe shared a bit of her background. He'd heard good things about the new caretaker of the pugilist's arts; It seemed like a lifetime ago that Sei's sister was working as a fingerbreaker there, and the newfound good reputation seemed a better environment than what used to be. Similarly, her reasons for taking up the pick were near enough to his own. That, too, felt like a lifetime ago.

"I've walked a similar path to that, believe it or not, though my time was spent as a raw recruit in the Bloodsands before their last hurrah. Started with a hammer, pounding out shields that were probably more for show than anything, then learned the sport itself. I, too, dropped off many a brick for the Amaljina & Sons to mull over and refine." He smiled fondly at the memory, nostalgia overwhelming him for a brief moment. Things seemed somehow so much easier back then, before Carteneau.

"Sometimes the path winds around bends we cannot see, though."

Berrod Armstrong · **03-04-2015, 09:44 AM**

Berrod Armstrong crashed through the front doors of the establishment with his usual lack of grace, looking only slightly harassed this visit. Dressed in creaking black leather from neck to toe, the highlander was the very image of an unarmed fighter. Harness straps wound about his broad torso and led to well-padded leather gauntlets. No weapons hung from his belt or hips, but the multitude of spikes along his heavy-looking boots seemed a good enough substitute. For all the black he wore, blood-red hair crashed into things superbly, pulled back into a folded tail and shaved at the sides. The layer of ruddy scruff along his jaw spoke of days without a shave.

Not so much as a glance was yet given to the other patrons before he could conduct his business; the massive hyur strode quickly to the levemete's counter and deposited a sizable rattling sack that had been clutched in his left hand. Â "Company's completions for today," He grunted, "We'll do the usual, you take your time, count these up and I'll send Darovic in for the gil later."

That said, he finally offered himself a glimpse back at the floor -- only to scowl. There were a few familiar faces, some of whom he considered friends. There was only one course of action on his mind at the sight of his friends in the Quicksand...

...an attempt at hasty flight.

With another grunt at Eustace the levemete Berrod did his best to propel his large frame toward the exit, inadvertently making himself far more noticeable than before.Â

Coatleque · **03-04-2015, 11:14 AM**

Coatleque watched with an inquisitively quirked eyebrow as the man at the bar lifted both a half of the sandwich and the visor of his helmet. Her looked turned to a mixture of horror and disgust as each half was systematically pushed or thrown into the helmet only to disappear. She could not see what became of the sandwich from her angle, and she half expected the man to turn and face her suddenly with food plastered all over his face. Luckily, the visor had been replaced when he did, in fact, turn to address her.

She furrowed her brows slightly before closing her eyes and nodding once at his recommendation of the sandwich. Her left hand raised slightly from her crossed arms and she was about to rub her forehead when the sound of the doors at the side of the room being roughly thrown open drew her attention. She watched Berrod quickly cross the room and turned her attention back to the man at the bar with one finger raised. "One moment, if you please."

Without awaiting a response she circled around the opposite side of the room to reach the door first and knowing full well the man would do his best to keep his visit brief. She leaned against the wall next to the door in a casual manner with her arms crossed once more. On queue he made his dash right for the exit and may have barreled past her if his attention wasn't drawn.

"Why Master Armstrong. A pleasant day we are having, is it not?" she said with a wave.

Berrod Armstrong · **03-04-2015, 11:28 AM**

Berrod lurched to a halt so severe that his boots scraped loudly upon the Quicksand's stone floor. He possessed the distinct demeanor of a large, confused billy -- but worked very hard to manage something onto his face resembling a smile (it was not so much a smile as it was the grimace of a man made to chew broken glass). It wasn't long before he allowed some sort of social grace through. "Hello, Lady Crofte," The smile was a tad less pained by then, at least, "It's been productive, yes, and that makes a pleasant day for me. How have you been?"

Indiscretions of the past compelled the gargantuan highlander to regard the other from the nose up only, in an effort so blatantly conscious that he may as well have broken into a sweat. He dared not even look at her hair.Â

Gegenji · **03-04-2015, 11:57 AM**

The change in expression was not lost on the Judge, though he certainly found it a rather curious one. Food was made to be consumed, so he had done so. Where was the error in that? He simply had to move his visor such that the sandwich halves could be properly eaten. He had done the same when imbibing his martini before with the masked Miqo'te, though such an expression would have been concealed behind the aforementioned mask.

Still, the irritation inherent in that particular conversation seemed to be over her own indecisive nature and Jredthys' calling attention to it. No such words had been exchanged betwixt him and the Sultansworn. In fact, he had been complying with her request to proceed with the intended fate for the finger sandwich. To demand such a thing and then recoil when it was done was questionable. He would have pressed her on it, had she not become distracted by the newest arrival to the establishment.

And so Judge sat patiently for Coatleque's return in his "relaxed" position. She had requested a brief reprieve from their conversation, and he saw no reason to deny her it. So, it was only proper to wait until she was finished with whatever other task she needed to accomplish with the other Highlander, and then resume their conversation. Perhaps then he could inquire to her apparent disapproval of his eating methods.

Cliodhna Eoghan · **03-05-2015, 12:39 AM**

Cliodhna raised her brows at his apparent offer. "Well.." She mused aloud, idly chewing on her pencil. "It would take quite a bit of work...These things aren't built cheap and even if I were to do without extra cost of labor; finding the parts alone..." She rolled her dark jade eyes towards the ceiling; flicking left to right as she did calculations in her head.

"No no...Even with some "spare" parts and me working on it when time permitted it...It'd take at least half a year's time...and that was if were were lucky enough to find one that was mostly salvaged and just needed the actual engine fixed. If we're talking from scratch oh dear...That would be quite the hefty price tag." Murmuring to herself more by this point; Cliodhna frowned.

"If we were that lucky...I'm sure it could be housed in the hanger and the door is wide enough to let three pass at once so getting it inside wouldn't be an issue; provided it was small....Being smaller would help reduce cost but even after all that would have to go into getting it built; there's be the cost of upkeep...." She sighed. "No....I don't think there's a viable way to do this without the proper funds, even if I did only work for your entire stash of Jack-" Words dying on her lips as the outburst came from the redhead across the way then quickly died down. "Seems not..."

Returning to a more proper position at the table; Cliodhna leaned her elbow on the wooden surface and let her chin rest in her hand, thoughts that had still been whirling on how to get her hands on a busted airship were quickly derailed as a loud crack of the door hitting the wall broke her concentration. Snapping her attention up with confusion graced on her features; she watched as the large Highlander stomped across the Quicksand and dropped off a heavy looking back of something or another before turning to leave and being stopped by the redhead that had been engaged with the fully armored oddity at the bar.

"...It always this interesting in here?" Cliodhna asked Nathan with a raised brow and a soft snort of laughter.

SM Nick · **03-05-2015, 07:30 AM**

Solis and Sakura enter the Quicksand with lunch on their minds.

Solis: "Oh boy I'm starving!"
Sakura: "Where should we eat?"

Solis's blue crystal necklace glows and points towards the bar.

Solis: "Let's eat there, but first!"

Solis puts his blue crystal in his pouch as they go towards the bar.

Coatleque · **03-05-2015, 11:54 AM**

Coatleque tilted her head before pushing off the wall to stand straight once more. She was no expert conversationalist herself by any means. From her past dealings with the man, she knew Berrod was even less so. She could not explain why, but her intuition made her feel as if some meddling was required today at least. So she smiled at him.

"Please don't tell me you are only here to collect your pay and go! Come, there is the most interesting fellow over there by the bar. Why I've never seen someone make an hors d'oeuvres disappear so quickly. Surely you can spare a moment for at least one drink?"

The whole time she tried to usher the man towards the bar area.

Berrod Armstrong · **03-05-2015, 12:04 PM**

The prospect of reprieve from his busy day was tempting enough to stay the emerging scowl. Instead, Berrod returned a smile that was small and brief, gone within blinking. "I can take a short break," He conceded, "Though I'll have juice, or water. No drink for me today."

Despite his acceptance of the invitation the Highlander's eyes made a wary flit to glance upon the ironclad fellow. This time, his scowl shone in all its surly glory. "Interesting, you say," He murmured, "That gives me the impression that there's something wrong with him. Let's go have that drink then, and consider it my treat."

Less and less did his outward demeanor reflect Berrod's desire to flee -- to a point where he almostÂ looked comfortable. Finally the leather-clad bulk of his form shifted in the direction of the bar.

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RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes