"Aye, Cap'n Lazarov," Zhi repeated dutifully, walking out after him. She leveled a wink towards him, "cheeky lad, are we?" Her laughter would trail behind her as she set off in search of a killer.
___
The killer wasn't home. Zhi had both hands on the top of the bar, her head sinking between her shoulders as Tenfingers idly rubbed down his side of the bar. It was already shining, but the man obviously held some pride. Behind them the lasses who were within his employ were completing various tasks. It was a wonder the place was kept as relatively spotless as it was, considering how very busy it could be -- the prior night being a solid example.
But now, it was mostly empty. All the better to plague Tenfingers with questions.
"Seemed t' be heading out," he told her, cautious. There was a short delay before he added, "don't be bringing any o' your problems into me bar."
She looked up, disbelieving. So, the rumors circulating about sir Unre-blimmin'-lenting taking her by the throat had even reached him, had they? She tipped her head back with a groan and turned away without responding but for the back of her hand in a sloppy farewell.
She moved out of there like there was a goobue on her tail, or something particularly unfriendly with a particularly sharp knife. Both were as dangerous to her, most days. She took a gander 'round, asking questions about the Hara woman and receiving a few likely answers; eventually she narrowed it down to an entrance. She hung out, keeping herself discreet and unremarkable.
It was hard to imagine Lazarov being particularly happy if she wound up sitting on her ass for bells waiting for Hara to show up.
Such was life.
___
The killer wasn't home. Zhi had both hands on the top of the bar, her head sinking between her shoulders as Tenfingers idly rubbed down his side of the bar. It was already shining, but the man obviously held some pride. Behind them the lasses who were within his employ were completing various tasks. It was a wonder the place was kept as relatively spotless as it was, considering how very busy it could be -- the prior night being a solid example.
But now, it was mostly empty. All the better to plague Tenfingers with questions.
"Seemed t' be heading out," he told her, cautious. There was a short delay before he added, "don't be bringing any o' your problems into me bar."
She looked up, disbelieving. So, the rumors circulating about sir Unre-blimmin'-lenting taking her by the throat had even reached him, had they? She tipped her head back with a groan and turned away without responding but for the back of her hand in a sloppy farewell.
She moved out of there like there was a goobue on her tail, or something particularly unfriendly with a particularly sharp knife. Both were as dangerous to her, most days. She took a gander 'round, asking questions about the Hara woman and receiving a few likely answers; eventually she narrowed it down to an entrance. She hung out, keeping herself discreet and unremarkable.
It was hard to imagine Lazarov being particularly happy if she wound up sitting on her ass for bells waiting for Hara to show up.
Such was life.
