Jager

"One little task. Just one ruttin' little task, and you not only screw it up, you bring more trouble than yer wroth!" Jager paced back and forth, quickly so. Pace, pace, kick, pace stomp pa-stomp stomp stomp stomp, crunch, stomp squelch, squish-squish-squish... heavy breathing. His boot was dripping with blood and all around the kid's head a pool of it. Now, he wasn't exactly a kid, but he was young enough to have not deserved this. Your mother told you, roll with the wrong crowd and you'd end up like this. "You and I need to talk." He'd press his back up against the corner before crossing his arms. He wore a loaded barrel today, this one strapped diagonally across his chest. His features were hard, his eyes locked solid on her. The yellow in them seemed to be as dark as piss could be, suffice to say, he was feelin' it.

He'd almost made it, too. The man came to a grinding halt, quite literally on his face. There were a few people sitting just around the corner, chatting amongst themselves when the pair of mi'quote's came crashing to the ground. So when the noise started, the two on the ground could hear them getting up to come see what in the hell was going on. The first to step around was the informant he'd been hoping to see; the one that could possibly help him with his clumsy exposure. The other.. well, shit was about to get real. “Jager! What- What are you doing here?” He'd started to peel the straw hat off when Zhavi started talking, but found some level of refuge underneath it right now. He was as good as done, anyways; cling to what hope you have, dear boy. Jager shifted his weight from one leg to the other and casually crossed his arms. First confused- now grinning, all the captain could do was shake his head. “You've got to be -Fucking- kidding me." The informant, whose name was just that, The Informant, made a hissing sound as he casually slid right back around the corner. Busted. Jager in the meantime took one look at Zhavi and just buried his face in his palm. "He's dead. He's ruttin' dead. I have to kill him now. She found out. Of all the mistakes, he's dead. Why. Why do you do this to me? Why?" He was clearly talking to himself.. or, at least that's what it looked like. Livid, the captain simply hopped forward once and drove the pointed tip of his boot into the jaw of the poor lad sprawled out on the ground. Only then was he relieved of his straw hat, and that's when Zhavi would see the dark yellowed eyed pup with eyes glossed over. "Fuck!" -Jager.

His only goal now was to get the ruttin' hell out of the market without being caught. He'd gotten sloppy, too much drinking and not enough action on the field. That's what business partners did; they had a way of influencing one's person and crew. He wasn't hard to spot. Just look for the suspicious mi'qutoe with his hands in his pockets and his head ducked now. Like it did him any good, one of his braids had fallen loose and was bouncing back and forth. It was like a second tail, one screaming for the attention Z sought. His scent, yeah- that was strong. And if that wasn't enough to flat out paint a target over his head, the baggy clothes were. If she put even the slightest bit of effort in, she'd corner him soon enough; he still didn't know this city as well as she did. Probably never would. Befor long he was slipping out of the market place and down some adjacent alley ways. The murmur of people started to hum away and the crashing sound of the ocean below started to take over. He'd have to meet up with an old contact- the one that had delivered Jager's letter to his crew with orders to fire upon the vessel containing the four bodies. He glances back and leans into the alley, he waits. Silence, footsteps- neither in his direction. This was good, he'd lost her. Only then did he break into a sprint down the last stretch of windy cobble stone road. This contact often hung out around a little stone nook overlooking the fisherman's wharf.

This had to be the most boring person in the world to follow. She didn't have a destination, she pissed away both time and coin for.. fruit juice, and she was oblivious to the stalker that was he. And this was his business partner. Hereally ought to reconsider, seeing as how he was only on this case because of her. Well, possibly because of her; that was what he aimed to find out. Unfortunately, his tracks were crossed and laid short when he decided to swing along side the alley she had stepped into. Having spent too much time here in this part of town, where the shady and crooked lived, his face- that which was hidden, was known by some. In fact.. “Aye Loque, that you?” A pot bellied roegedyn by the name of Alrik was wiping down some steel from a stall trying to pitch second hand weaponry. “The hell ya been? Heh heh heh, what's wit'the get up?” He stood deathly still, his tail went stiff and his eyes slid from the woman he was trailing to the idiot blowing his cover. “Got that list o' dye you wanted, not sure what good it'll do, you know they've got their fing- Aye, you listenin- Hey!” Before Zhavi could even have a chance to look around, for a name she knew in secret, he had flipped a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn and headed right back through the market. “Loque! The 'ell is his problem?” With a fat-shouldered shrug, the merchant would return to his stall, all while scratching his head. “Shit-Shit shit shit. SHIT.” Razor sharp whispers escaped from under the straw hate while his lips pulled thin in a wicked scowl. The ruttin' idiot, IDIOT! His pace was fast, his head kept low. He'd have actually had a chance, maybe, if he didn't managed to bump shoulders with more than one person. He was easy to tail right back.

He about slammed shoulders with her, with how she came bumbling past each stall. The mi'quote's heart raced while he slipped around a stall and immediately stuffed his hand into a basket of apples. The fruit seller gave him a funny look, but thought nothing of it. She was just as careless as him, this hangover was going to blow everything. He'd not stray from his original intent, not by a long shot. Tailing her was as vital as it was finding his intruder for the break in back at the inn. The way she moved, the sluggish tilt in her gait, everything about her bodies language suggest she was oblivious to his presence. Those dark yellow eyes of his followed her every step, all the way up to the stall she ordered from. Juice? The hell.. was this the right woman? He had to look for the kink in her tail to be sure. He leans his back up against a wall and presses the flat of his food to it.

The sun was burning hot and the citizens of Limsa were hustling about. High noon was about when all the market's hit their rush of people, most trading and selling for whatever they couldn't quite buy. Being a sea-side city, the stalls were rich with product from all over the sea. Hungover and fighting off nausea, he sat along a stone edge facing the docks while he waited for her to show. Given the circumstances of last night's little discovery, he needed to find out just who was snooping around his room and above all else, if it was and/or tied to Zhavi. He even went so far as to shed a little coin ona new outfit: a baggy kurta, some initiate's slops and the most disgusting of straw hats, just low enough to cover his face. Facial hair and braids were still a dead give away. Hope fully,any minute she'd come slinking through the market place, maybe in search of a bite to eat, or perhaps a purse to snatch. Hell, maybe he'd catch her on the trail of someone important- which in turn, was now important to him. His tail swishes back and forth while he casually browses for people while pretending to browse wares from under his hat.

He lifted a brow and watched her with a look that projected annoyance. "Startin' to wonder who has the bigger hole now. You, or Leila." His grin was just as toothy. He'd shrug as he picked up the dice. "I think I like ya more when you're puttin' on that tough guy attitude. Stompin' around wit'yer chest puffed out and your lip cocked up like you're smellin' a bit o' piss." He takes one dice and pelts it at her. Five. But when he reaches for the second, he takes the flask with him, too. "Room smells like shit and you make for some terrible company with booze and game. I'll come find you tomorrow." He was headed for his ship for a long bath and a comfortable bed. It was risky to use it for something so recreational, but damn it all if he didn't need it. The second dice was bounced off her forehead and a hand full of coins, sixty, was scattered across the table.

That wasn't quite what he was wanting to get to know, but.. not like he'd object to learning about something so scandalous. Shrug. "I'll have to teach you how to play some Fortune's Dice, the game of luck, deception, and bullshit trash talk." He reaches for the flask and grimaces at the uncapped rim. Not even the alcohol in this container could sterilize the bad breath she had. He rattles, he tosses, he rolls; Two and Six. "Piss and blood, we're about to change out dice." He didn't look at all pissed, despite his sharp replies. "I could throw pieces of gil at you all night; I'd be better off tossin' them into the bust of a pretty lady down at the crow's nest." A local spot he'd come to find, where the alcohol was warm and watered down, and the women were just as bad. "I'm uppin' the stakes, you have the stones to go toe-to-toe?"

He watched her with those dangerous yellow eyes, unsure of what to make of that last statement. He had his reasons for digging. While she may have been more hands on with extracting information, he worked more in the head. There was an infinite amount of ways to get into someone's mind, pick and chip at it, manipulate and harvest from it whatever you sought. Right now, he came off as casual and interested. He was a man sharing a room with his partner with nothing else better to do than kill time. This was his angle, this was his casual distraction. He shrugged, "Somethin' tells me you're a little easy when it comes to bein' left unimpressed. Hold this-" He slid the flask over to her while he reached for the dice and tossed them across the board. Four and One. "I think some of your grime is weighing the dice down."

When he threw his coin up, he did so in a way that scattered her neatly stacked pile. He wasn't a good loser. But he did chuckle at what she had to say, "Between us? It really doesn't matter, but, I have my reason for wantin' to know just how many numbers you've got under the belt." He tips forward and rolls out of the chair before walking towards the bed she'd been laying in. He takes a seat before leaning over and stuffs his hand under the mattress. "I'm thinkin' you're still pretty wet behind the ears. Maybe you and Dolliah can 'ave a little sleep over. Braid each others hair, talk about boys.." Aha. He slips his hand in deep and withdraws a flask hidden deep inside the bed. "And you say you've pilfered for a livin'?" He makes his way back towards the table.

He rolled his eyes, but continued to grin as he did so. Even he had his limits.. he hadn't the hear to tell Zhavi she was a prime example of such a thing. On the bright side, he was numb to her smell! But when he put his money down, he seemed more caught off by the question instead. He looked almost guilty or ashamed, as if counting one's age was a bad thing now. "No, not at all. I mean.. not like it matters? Was just curious. You're clearly no pup fresh on the streets like Deleelia.. whatever her name is. Just wonderin' who here is older." He bares those toothy whites as he grins wickedly; suddenly age was going to shift the tides of power here, wasn't it? Could it? Or was he just ruttin' around.

"I probably wouldn't even give her a quick lay.. the pain that one is." He laughs, "As fresh out the cradle as she is, prolly hasn't a clue what she's doin'. What's more, is that character she's always taggin' along with is tryin' his hardest. Hah.. Hahaha." He found the efforts of another man trying his hand with the ladies something truly hilarious. Why? No clue. "Ruttin' kids. Oi." He scoops up the dice and doesn't even bother trying to roll them, they're scattered and thrown right back down. Five and Nine. "How old are you anyways?" The topic of 'kids' brought about the question, but there was no stopping just how random it sounded. "Don't give me that, you never ask a lady their age tripe. You're anything but." Grin.

"Didn't your mother teach you how to handle your money better than that?" He jokes as the dice are scooped back up and rattled unceremoniously . He glances at the smoke she's rolling and sighs before letting them scatter across the table. He stares down at the pair of eyes looking right back up. Snake eyes, that was. "Ruttin' hell.." He is aggravated, but rocks his chair back onto two legs. "So you ever hear from that kid? That one with the name- started with the D. Had that lad hangin' all over her, 'member?"

"Apparently. Forgot about the woman in my room before I brought another up." He quietly mumbles, "And my smokes.." He snatches up the dice and shakes them three times before dropping them onto the table. Six and Two, "Heh. Give me one of those.. too." He leans back with a smug grin and yawns. "Anymore booze around? Or your scraggly ass drink it all up?"

He rolled his eyes as he reached for the dice and let them rattle in his right hand. "How much we playin' again?" He watches her limp with little regard. He felt more annoyed than anything. It looked as dramatic as one poor little mi'quote could make it. He was half tempted to chant, c'mon c'mon at her, but she was back once more with the smokes. "Pass me that." He rattles the dice nice and good before throwing them across the table. When they land, 5 and 6 stare up at them.

He fishes around for a book of matches in his front shirt pocket and throws it her way. Along with the match was a roll of papers, thin but long. "Where's the bag I left? Anything left? And aye, that's fine. No additional rules?"

"Your dice, your game. Pick." The mood in the air was difficult to read. He'd gone from drunkenly staggering up the stairs, ready to spend his evening with a woman, to tearing her away from his partner, to now sitting in for a game of dice. It was everything but neutral.. right? "What're we playin' and how much is on the line." He sighed out the sentence as if it were legal fineprint that had to be read, despite each other's obvious knowledge. He studied her while she set the table, he wasn't quite sure what it was- whatever that was, back there at the door. He knew now it wasn't attraction, at least not in the typical way one would be attracted to the opposite sex. It was clearly admiration, but on some level, perhaps more? He looked at her in a new light tonight, and he wasn't sure what in the hell had caused it; only that it took a few bruised ribs and a chased off whore to be the first spark.

“Didn'tfigure you'd be picky. You really are a pain in the ass.” He snickered before rolling on out of bed. “Whas'the matter? Leilia a little too feisty for you? Poor lass looked like she was ready to rip your ears off.” He can't help but laugh for a sec. He finds a seat shortly across form her and crosses his arms once more behind his head. “What are we playing? Hopefully not that damn game the kid was playing on the boat, few weeks back.”

Meanwhile,Jager sat somewhat propped against the headrest while he watched the exchange between whore and runner. Z was talking about their work, about him, about more.. And she didn't even need to elaborate. Her presence in this room right now far exceeded the reason to need to explain herself. He had admiration for everything he saw and heard, even down to the little prick against Leila's neck, compliments of the mi'quote's dagger. When the exchange was over, he'd quietly slide back down and crossed both arms behind his head. Jager closed his eyes and waited Atfirst, he really didn't have anything to say. He was stuck in this loop, replaying her every word in his head, revisiting every sharp command and ever blunt insult. He wasn't quite sure what about it caught his eye tonight, but the whole thing was just so damn smooth. Even as beaten and defeated as she physically was, her words were as sharp as steel in order to get things done. He admired that. He enjoyed it.. maybe even on some level, found it attractive. “Maybeone day, we'll go half's on one, eh?” Blatant sarcasm dripped off his tone. None the less, he sat up and moved towards the table. “If you go and get killed, I'll most likely be removing myself from Thatcher's presence all together.” Shrug.

Jager simply rolled his eyes beforeclosing them. He'd stretch out on the bed with both arms and legs crossed, uncaring of what became of the two by the door. Leila, as heated as she was, was liable to rush the damn runner and tear her down for robbing her of a well paid night. At least most of it was about the money, there was that bit about wanting to spend time with Jager, but he or she wouldn't elaborate. “Just get it yourself, you lazyscab.” He yawns. His scalp itched and he knew damn wellwhy; it enraged him to think about it, too. So he wouldn't. He wouldn't even scratch the damn thing, maybe instead he'd just cut the hair and kill them all off. Or, maybe he'd just shave the woman bald, instead. Maybe prevent her from getting them again. Either way, he takes up the right side of the bed and seems content enough with that. “What happens if this plan doesn'twork?” He is so casually dismissive of all that has happened tonight. At least on the surface.

Whatever buzz he had was killed for the night, and probably or the rest of the week, too! The captain crossed booth arms and legs while he laid with his feet stretched out far. He didn't even bother with kicking his boots off; these sheets needed to burn. "Somethin', anythin' we're gettin' you a place of yer own. Not doing this anymore." Whether she scooted off far or moved in close, he wasn't budging an inch. His night was spent, ruined and thrown back in his face. There was no salvaging this, and right now his fucks were at an all time low; zero was an understatement. "You do whatever you will, I'm grabbin' some shuteye." She was right, about the whole plan and all. Pushing it now would only compromise all parties involved, himself included. He was pissed, simple as that. He knew this, too, but try getting a drunken, sex-robbed captain to admit to the bullshit that came out of his mouth. She wasn't even apart of his crew and he about threw her into the sea. That window would have one jumping out, soon. He was sure of it.

He'd throttle the bitch, he swear he'd have to. Kick, shove, stomp- she did whatever she could to try and remove him from what was rightfully his; the bed. It was one thing to be put out for a few days, but another to be harassed so annoyingly for it, too. And to top things off, yeah, he just might have been thinkin with the wrong head. So scrambled or not, he practically growled his next words. "I don't even ruttin' care about Lalataru at this point. Get out, or move over, Z." Just minutes ago, he was pressed up against (and pressing against) the gal J had brought home. The poor little mi'quote was playing with fire, this is not how you handle a ticking time bomb who is blue in the luggage. "Tomorrow we move on with it. And I swear if I have your fleas.. you're going out that window." Itch. Itch. ITCH!

"Heh, if it's not broke.. then shut it before I break it for real. Ooor find a better use for it right now." Bang. He wasn't sure how much longer he was going to sit there, but he was far to wound up for his own good. A couple coins were thrown at her and from there he'd rise back up to his feet. "Move." He didn't even wait for her to comply, or to even consider the command. Her legs were given a mean shove out of the way and he replaced the spot with his own. With a little more shoving and prodding, he could just very well reclaim some of his bed back. "You can get your own ruttin' food, bum."

He felt no remorse for the pain he instilled in her. None what so ever. She'd been inconveniently left where he put her, and ironically he'd forgotten about that. So yeah, he was a bit of a half-witted moron, but that's not what you say to a man who lost his lady for the night. Bang. Bang. Bang. No light. No sex. No bed. Itch.. itch.. itch. He accepts defeat and glances up at her pitiful whining. He honestly doesn't care if she's in pain, she brought this upon herself. But he does look up at her, and he does arch an eyebrow, even if just comically. "Heh, how's that jaw of yours? It still work?" He snickers and shakes his head. He doesn't plan on elaborating, it's more a joke for himself, where laughter must be sought, before another beating ensues.

He fumbled around aimlessly for the smokes that were left on top of the table above him. Eventually he'd pull one out and stuffed it in between his lips with a sigh. "I shouldn't need an alley.. when I have my own room." Eye roll. "Just forgot I had a guest. One that ain't really good for much, either. Not right now, at least." He feels around in his pockets, his pants, then shirt. Bang bang bang, head to the wall; its about the only action he's getting tonight. "Light?"