The smoke Zhi blew out tangled around the limbs of the dancer before dispersing to join the rest of it up at the ceiling. "I gonna see ye up there, then, laddo?"
Brindle had the very best glares. "Ain't a doxy."
Nald'thal smile on her, but when had Brindle started to sound so much like her? She didn't look away from the woman on her table, though her smile widened. "Oh? Found yerself a nice little hole t'curl up in, did ye?"
"Sendin' out enforcers after yer dame's clients." Brindle neatly snubbed her own taunt, lowering his voice as much as he was able. He shifted his tray as someone called for more drink, and spoke faster. "One o' them was warned out o' the city, an' came right back. Had a talk wi' yer boss, he did."
"Name?"
Brindle had turned away, but he turned back, snagging up her half-full cup in excuse. "Ruru-something, look, give me a clapper --"
He was gone. Zhi didn't appear to notice, instead choosing to make eyes up at the dancer, who had mostly avoided any contact of the same for the evening. Zhi didn't blame her; she wasn't trying to make the dancer's evening difficult, but. . .she leered. What fun, what fun.
When Brindle's voice came next at her back, it was breathless and a little angry. Zhi didn't blame him for that, either, but he had to learn sooner or later just how cold the city could be -- and why she'd kept to her preferences even when she was in coin enough to change them. Some feelings you just couldn't shake, not even at the space of years.
"Lissen, 'bout Galleon. . ."
Zhi flicked her tail at him in acknowledgement.
Brindle whispered as he passed her, "think he might be in it --"
Gone again. Zhi shuffled the pieces in her head as she continued slamming back the drinks he brought her. Interlaced was the thought that starting something with the dancer would be worth it, though she knew better by then. Space of years and all.
"--same group as th'one what backs --"
The buzz of a pearl caught her off-guard, and she jumped in spite of herself, missing the rest of Brindle's hastily passed words. Nald'thal tip her scales. She sorted out which one was active, and put it to her ear in time to catch the Captain's voice. No, no, that captain. Oh, right. She blinked down at it, muzziness taking her a few seconds to parse the call. He shouldn't be calling her. The pearl was for her to call him.
A job was a job was a job.
"Cap'n, ye say th'bes' things," she slurred. "Aye-aye, Cap'n!"
She tossed back her drink and held it aloft. "Another!" She pretended not to see the skeptical way Brindle eyed her when he came back around, just like she held to badly faked protests of innocence when they tossed her out for manhandling the dancer.
Ahh, just another night.
Just another morning. A bad one. The Captain (capitals, there) did not appreciate guttersnipes or anything that could feasibly be affixed with the prefix of 'gutter,' whether or not it actually was gutter. Sure, he held the illusion that he was better, wasn't for her to judge, but she spent good gil to go to an inn for a bath rather than her usual quick drowned-rat soak in the ocean.
The soap smelled like lavender. It borked her nose up good. Cap'n'd better appreciate the extra effort, because she was sneezing all through her shuffle down to the docks, ears pressed flat against her head and their insistence that everything was much too loud. It ran counterpoint to her eyes' insistence of brightness, and everything was just held in the position of just right to put Zhi into a mode of smiles that tended to provoke children into poking at her with sticks.
Not that she wasn't normally grotesque in her own special way. . .
She ditched some of the smell as she attended various errands throughout the day, and by the time she met the Cap'n it'd faded enough that it shouldn't be too obvious to the deadness of an elezen nose, yet keep her from smelling in a way he might find offensive. Gods forfend. She'd keep herself up on a level high enough for his fussiness, but she'd take a long walk off a short plank before she let him think she was doing it for him.
Brindle had the very best glares. "Ain't a doxy."
Nald'thal smile on her, but when had Brindle started to sound so much like her? She didn't look away from the woman on her table, though her smile widened. "Oh? Found yerself a nice little hole t'curl up in, did ye?"
"Sendin' out enforcers after yer dame's clients." Brindle neatly snubbed her own taunt, lowering his voice as much as he was able. He shifted his tray as someone called for more drink, and spoke faster. "One o' them was warned out o' the city, an' came right back. Had a talk wi' yer boss, he did."
"Name?"
Brindle had turned away, but he turned back, snagging up her half-full cup in excuse. "Ruru-something, look, give me a clapper --"
He was gone. Zhi didn't appear to notice, instead choosing to make eyes up at the dancer, who had mostly avoided any contact of the same for the evening. Zhi didn't blame her; she wasn't trying to make the dancer's evening difficult, but. . .she leered. What fun, what fun.
When Brindle's voice came next at her back, it was breathless and a little angry. Zhi didn't blame him for that, either, but he had to learn sooner or later just how cold the city could be -- and why she'd kept to her preferences even when she was in coin enough to change them. Some feelings you just couldn't shake, not even at the space of years.
"Lissen, 'bout Galleon. . ."
Zhi flicked her tail at him in acknowledgement.
Brindle whispered as he passed her, "think he might be in it --"
Gone again. Zhi shuffled the pieces in her head as she continued slamming back the drinks he brought her. Interlaced was the thought that starting something with the dancer would be worth it, though she knew better by then. Space of years and all.
"--same group as th'one what backs --"
The buzz of a pearl caught her off-guard, and she jumped in spite of herself, missing the rest of Brindle's hastily passed words. Nald'thal tip her scales. She sorted out which one was active, and put it to her ear in time to catch the Captain's voice. No, no, that captain. Oh, right. She blinked down at it, muzziness taking her a few seconds to parse the call. He shouldn't be calling her. The pearl was for her to call him.
A job was a job was a job.
"Cap'n, ye say th'bes' things," she slurred. "Aye-aye, Cap'n!"
She tossed back her drink and held it aloft. "Another!" She pretended not to see the skeptical way Brindle eyed her when he came back around, just like she held to badly faked protests of innocence when they tossed her out for manhandling the dancer.
Ahh, just another night.
Just another morning. A bad one. The Captain (capitals, there) did not appreciate guttersnipes or anything that could feasibly be affixed with the prefix of 'gutter,' whether or not it actually was gutter. Sure, he held the illusion that he was better, wasn't for her to judge, but she spent good gil to go to an inn for a bath rather than her usual quick drowned-rat soak in the ocean.
The soap smelled like lavender. It borked her nose up good. Cap'n'd better appreciate the extra effort, because she was sneezing all through her shuffle down to the docks, ears pressed flat against her head and their insistence that everything was much too loud. It ran counterpoint to her eyes' insistence of brightness, and everything was just held in the position of just right to put Zhi into a mode of smiles that tended to provoke children into poking at her with sticks.
Not that she wasn't normally grotesque in her own special way. . .
She ditched some of the smell as she attended various errands throughout the day, and by the time she met the Cap'n it'd faded enough that it shouldn't be too obvious to the deadness of an elezen nose, yet keep her from smelling in a way he might find offensive. Gods forfend. She'd keep herself up on a level high enough for his fussiness, but she'd take a long walk off a short plank before she let him think she was doing it for him.