It was rare for Jacel to do anything on his own. The days where he hotfooted it about on someone else's errands were long behind him; when he personally went somewhere, it generally meant one of two things: one, that he was bored and saw the chance for some sort of profit or entertainment; and two, that someone had royally stepped in it.
Lale knew that Jacel expected someone to royally step in it. His directions had been clear, and veiled in his very typical cheerful gushing that did nothing to hide the very real threat underneath. Jacel was not what Lale considered to be a bad man. Given to tantrums? Yes. Given to harsh discipline? Yes. But not bad. All the same, everyone who served under him always got the sense of a string on the verge of snapping. Jacel was scary in a way that could not be defined -- there was no evidence that he should be considered a dangerous man, yet it was there all the same.
No one ever disappointed him twice. Not if they could help it.
There were always the rumors.
Lale, contrarily, was not scary. Not in the least. It was why he was one of Jacel's favorite errand boys. Tall, gangly, pale -- he was the sort of elezen who stood out for all the wrong reasons. People, most people, noticed him, and dismissed him all in one smooth motion, usually with some variant of pity. Lale was not handsome. He was awkward. His nose was far too big for his face, his mouth too wide. He had a tendency to squint, which made him look the part of some or other beastkin. His one saving feature was his hands. They were a pianist's hands -- fingers slender and well shaped. The only time he could be considered charismatic was when he was playing.
It was why he made an excellent choice for watching people. There was always a slightly befuddled air about him, as if he was almost, but not quite, lost. He was the sort people avoided going out of their way to help, because he looked as if once you gave him help he would cling endlessly -- and in a busy city like Limsa, no local wanted some gadabout clinging onto them while mewling for help.
But he could blend when he needed to, could dress and change his mannerisms to belong. He was Jacel's chameleon. Resourceful. Quick-thinking. Well-trained.
Jacel always liked his people well-trained.
Some days Lale thought he considered them his pets.
No matter. They'd their assignments. Jacel didn't always act immediately, but he was thorough. People had been sent to the entry points into the city. A few wandered.
Lale was following Raz. Had been keeping tabs on Raz ever since that day in the Wench when certain individuals had arranged jobs. Zhavi was a person of interest to Galine for very specific reasons. Raz was a person of interest for entirely different reasons. It was coincidental that Raz had run into Zhi first -- but it was also a boon. Galine tended to have business with Abiga. Lale knew information about Raz was valuable.
It was easy to be seen in Limsa Lominsa, but it wasn't easy to lose sight of someone in certain parts of the city; the necessity of bridges ensured that, at some point, people would be seen.
He lost sight of Raz, kept ambling forward. He would find the other man again, would follow him down to whatever stinking warren he ended at.
It was Lale's job not to screw up.
Generally speaking, Lale almost never screwed up.
Lale knew that Jacel expected someone to royally step in it. His directions had been clear, and veiled in his very typical cheerful gushing that did nothing to hide the very real threat underneath. Jacel was not what Lale considered to be a bad man. Given to tantrums? Yes. Given to harsh discipline? Yes. But not bad. All the same, everyone who served under him always got the sense of a string on the verge of snapping. Jacel was scary in a way that could not be defined -- there was no evidence that he should be considered a dangerous man, yet it was there all the same.
No one ever disappointed him twice. Not if they could help it.
There were always the rumors.
Lale, contrarily, was not scary. Not in the least. It was why he was one of Jacel's favorite errand boys. Tall, gangly, pale -- he was the sort of elezen who stood out for all the wrong reasons. People, most people, noticed him, and dismissed him all in one smooth motion, usually with some variant of pity. Lale was not handsome. He was awkward. His nose was far too big for his face, his mouth too wide. He had a tendency to squint, which made him look the part of some or other beastkin. His one saving feature was his hands. They were a pianist's hands -- fingers slender and well shaped. The only time he could be considered charismatic was when he was playing.
It was why he made an excellent choice for watching people. There was always a slightly befuddled air about him, as if he was almost, but not quite, lost. He was the sort people avoided going out of their way to help, because he looked as if once you gave him help he would cling endlessly -- and in a busy city like Limsa, no local wanted some gadabout clinging onto them while mewling for help.
But he could blend when he needed to, could dress and change his mannerisms to belong. He was Jacel's chameleon. Resourceful. Quick-thinking. Well-trained.
Jacel always liked his people well-trained.
Some days Lale thought he considered them his pets.
No matter. They'd their assignments. Jacel didn't always act immediately, but he was thorough. People had been sent to the entry points into the city. A few wandered.
Lale was following Raz. Had been keeping tabs on Raz ever since that day in the Wench when certain individuals had arranged jobs. Zhavi was a person of interest to Galine for very specific reasons. Raz was a person of interest for entirely different reasons. It was coincidental that Raz had run into Zhi first -- but it was also a boon. Galine tended to have business with Abiga. Lale knew information about Raz was valuable.
It was easy to be seen in Limsa Lominsa, but it wasn't easy to lose sight of someone in certain parts of the city; the necessity of bridges ensured that, at some point, people would be seen.
He lost sight of Raz, kept ambling forward. He would find the other man again, would follow him down to whatever stinking warren he ended at.
It was Lale's job not to screw up.
Generally speaking, Lale almost never screwed up.
