Solitaire wasn't the sort of runner who just let things happen. He was meticulous, orderly, and knew how to play his hand. It was his success at cards, from an early age, that had lead to the moniker he was most widely known by. He played high-stakes games, always: anything less left him bored. He didn't always win. He made mistakes, sometimes.
He never made the same mistake twice.
Reputation was an important thing on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, and Solitaire had worked very hard to maintain his. Sure, he might not be a big name, but his ascension was never questioned, only delayed.
He was sharing a bowl of embers with two of his regulars -- men who needed quick, reliable, and trustworthy runners to move subtle packages and even subtler words -- when he heard the first rumor. Little kitten, broken tail. It didn't register at first; he was busy with his own jobs, and didn't have time to keep track of every whelp that annoyed him. He had ambition, and he was not the sort to get sidetracked by insignificant rumors. But it stuck in his mind to be replayed long after he'd left his customers and made his way back to his bed. And there, in the dead of night, it took root in his brain. An interest in a rivalry that had long ago soured into something worse, into something he only trifled with when he had something to gain. He was curious, but that emotion was quickly squashed. He had some information in regards to the scrag with a broken tail, and if it gained him more contacts then so be it.
Solitaire would make inquiries in the morning.
_________________
It hadn't even been a bell since she'd docked. The urge to ask if the man who had come to her with the information was serious was strong, but she stuffed it. Only those who were weak needed to hear something twice, and Litha was anything but that.
There were many books in Limsa Lominsa. At any given time there were people looking for some of those books, any number of those books, and in some cases they sought books that weren't even in the city. So there was absolutely no guarantee, there was only a small glimmer of a chance, that the whispers currently plaguing the city in regards to a book were in regards to the book she was concerned with.
Good fellow.
Those two words. Those two rutting words. They were infuriating, and they were the small seed of chance that made her hesitate over chastising the man for bothering her with unimportant information. He was paid handsomely to provide her with pertinent information. It wasn't like he was an idiot.
"I need more," she said, staring him down though he was at least a fulm taller than she. "Give me somethin' I can work with, else you're wastin' my time for naught."
They wouldn't let her down.
They wouldn't dare.
______________
"Hey."
Nothing.
"Hey."
The stool Zhi was sitting on tipped, and then spilled her to the ground. It wasn't the first time such had happened to her, and she awoke with the instincts of someone who expected to be knifed in the next few seconds. It wasn't amusing to the man who'd woken her.
"We're closin'. Pay th'ruttin' tab an' get out."
Zhi hadn't remembered falling asleep at the bar, nor did she remember the last bell or so preceding it. She'd been happy, she knew that, and as she slowly and carefully righted herself she remembered why. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out her purse, and started clumsily sorting through coin. "'Ow much?"
"Seventy-nine."
She blinked. Looked up. After her night of boozing and spending, she didn't have that much left.
The man read her intention a full second too late, and she was scrambling for the door with him hot on her heels. Didn't matter that she was still full drunk -- she'd done plenty of running with a buzz from far worse things. Didn't matter she'd gone just about broke on her all-night binge, neither, or that she couldn't remember exactly where in the city she was.
As she slammed through the door and hit the street, only one thing mattered in her mind:
she had the names of two of Galleon's rivals.
She had a means of ridding herself of the book.
He never made the same mistake twice.
Reputation was an important thing on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, and Solitaire had worked very hard to maintain his. Sure, he might not be a big name, but his ascension was never questioned, only delayed.
He was sharing a bowl of embers with two of his regulars -- men who needed quick, reliable, and trustworthy runners to move subtle packages and even subtler words -- when he heard the first rumor. Little kitten, broken tail. It didn't register at first; he was busy with his own jobs, and didn't have time to keep track of every whelp that annoyed him. He had ambition, and he was not the sort to get sidetracked by insignificant rumors. But it stuck in his mind to be replayed long after he'd left his customers and made his way back to his bed. And there, in the dead of night, it took root in his brain. An interest in a rivalry that had long ago soured into something worse, into something he only trifled with when he had something to gain. He was curious, but that emotion was quickly squashed. He had some information in regards to the scrag with a broken tail, and if it gained him more contacts then so be it.
Solitaire would make inquiries in the morning.
_________________
It hadn't even been a bell since she'd docked. The urge to ask if the man who had come to her with the information was serious was strong, but she stuffed it. Only those who were weak needed to hear something twice, and Litha was anything but that.
There were many books in Limsa Lominsa. At any given time there were people looking for some of those books, any number of those books, and in some cases they sought books that weren't even in the city. So there was absolutely no guarantee, there was only a small glimmer of a chance, that the whispers currently plaguing the city in regards to a book were in regards to the book she was concerned with.
Good fellow.
Those two words. Those two rutting words. They were infuriating, and they were the small seed of chance that made her hesitate over chastising the man for bothering her with unimportant information. He was paid handsomely to provide her with pertinent information. It wasn't like he was an idiot.
"I need more," she said, staring him down though he was at least a fulm taller than she. "Give me somethin' I can work with, else you're wastin' my time for naught."
They wouldn't let her down.
They wouldn't dare.
______________
"Hey."
Nothing.
"Hey."
The stool Zhi was sitting on tipped, and then spilled her to the ground. It wasn't the first time such had happened to her, and she awoke with the instincts of someone who expected to be knifed in the next few seconds. It wasn't amusing to the man who'd woken her.
"We're closin'. Pay th'ruttin' tab an' get out."
Zhi hadn't remembered falling asleep at the bar, nor did she remember the last bell or so preceding it. She'd been happy, she knew that, and as she slowly and carefully righted herself she remembered why. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out her purse, and started clumsily sorting through coin. "'Ow much?"
"Seventy-nine."
She blinked. Looked up. After her night of boozing and spending, she didn't have that much left.
The man read her intention a full second too late, and she was scrambling for the door with him hot on her heels. Didn't matter that she was still full drunk -- she'd done plenty of running with a buzz from far worse things. Didn't matter she'd gone just about broke on her all-night binge, neither, or that she couldn't remember exactly where in the city she was.
As she slammed through the door and hit the street, only one thing mattered in her mind:
she had the names of two of Galleon's rivals.
She had a means of ridding herself of the book.
