Yayabuko was not ordinarily cantankerous. He dealt with the worst the city had to offer on a regular basis, and had profited greatly from that interaction. He was the man everyone knew, someone to go to when you were in need of connections quickly. It was not his fault that his reaction to Zhi was so poor -- she'd started it, as they say.
Melkire had finished it. With an extra dollop of 'hi, please hate me for the rest of my life.'
Yayabuko mistakenly believed that the problems that had been generated from the thirty-thou job had originated as one of Zhi's bent schemes. Being that her credit with him had already been shaky at best, attempts to turn the relationship back onto firmer ground had been. . .mixed. Bruises and scrapes had eventually convinced Zhi that it was better to go with the metaphorical version of sleeping on the couch for the next month or two (or three) -- similar to how she was out with other gangs (and for the same reason) -- but Flit represented an unexpected predicament.
One that, out of all her contacts, she only trusted Yayabuko to be able to resolve.
Funny how that worked.
So it was that the lalafell stared at Flit like the other man was something left by fishmongers cleaning up their wares. But, the clean accent and calm words were reasonable things that proved that Flit himself wasn't anything like Zhi. And, as Flit had said, business was business.
"You, go cool your heels elsewhere. I'll talk to you." The hard stare he aimed at Zhi was matched by the slightly-less-cold version that Flit himself earned.
Zhi leaned down a little to clap Flit on the shoulder. "Ask fer th'Heavy Handers," she said, offering a flippant smile to Yayabuko when his gaze turned frosty.
She turned and walked away, keeping the two men in eyesight but not so close that Yayabuko could offer any more of his withering complaints.
Yayabuko, for his part, turned his full attention onto Flit. He was still not happy, but at least he was more tractable than he had been. "Are you a warrior, then, looking to sell your skills?"
Melkire had finished it. With an extra dollop of 'hi, please hate me for the rest of my life.'
Yayabuko mistakenly believed that the problems that had been generated from the thirty-thou job had originated as one of Zhi's bent schemes. Being that her credit with him had already been shaky at best, attempts to turn the relationship back onto firmer ground had been. . .mixed. Bruises and scrapes had eventually convinced Zhi that it was better to go with the metaphorical version of sleeping on the couch for the next month or two (or three) -- similar to how she was out with other gangs (and for the same reason) -- but Flit represented an unexpected predicament.
One that, out of all her contacts, she only trusted Yayabuko to be able to resolve.
Funny how that worked.
So it was that the lalafell stared at Flit like the other man was something left by fishmongers cleaning up their wares. But, the clean accent and calm words were reasonable things that proved that Flit himself wasn't anything like Zhi. And, as Flit had said, business was business.
"You, go cool your heels elsewhere. I'll talk to you." The hard stare he aimed at Zhi was matched by the slightly-less-cold version that Flit himself earned.
Zhi leaned down a little to clap Flit on the shoulder. "Ask fer th'Heavy Handers," she said, offering a flippant smile to Yayabuko when his gaze turned frosty.
She turned and walked away, keeping the two men in eyesight but not so close that Yayabuko could offer any more of his withering complaints.
Yayabuko, for his part, turned his full attention onto Flit. He was still not happy, but at least he was more tractable than he had been. "Are you a warrior, then, looking to sell your skills?"
