Malin had no illusions about the upward mobility of her work. Between a sergeant's pay and Donnell's own employment, they could afford a flat on a nameless street that differed from Pearl Lane only in its equal lack of refugees and notoriety. There was, if she were to give a fair assessment, less crime, mayhaps because a few other Blades from a few other orders lived here. They tended to break the law when they were on the job more often than off.
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There were, of course,other ways to supplement her income, as the extra coin pouch at her belt attested. Arresting Bellveil out at Horizon had been a momentary whim, the kind of law-enforcement brought about by being in the right place at the right time and seeing the right person in his wrong place and wrong time. He was responsible for the problems at Highbridge; of that much she was sure. Between Berold's statements, records of a certain warehouse robbery and reports of a guard knocked unconscious with a piece of "golden rock", and the flooding of the markets with Dravanian relics shortly thereafter, she had enough for the scales of justice to tip vaguely in her favor should she decide to charge him with endangering the trade routes through negligence. Mayhaps they might even convict him of something.
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But he'd had friends present, and one of them had been willing to pay to see the shackles off his wrists. It had been excuse enough to let him go, along with a few others. She'd expected him to protest, to struggle, to proclaim his innocence, but once she had him he hadn't uttered a single word. The look of resignation, of defeat, set her on edge. Better to take the offered purse and let him go. Â
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A sour smell - light, familiar, and not unpleasant - hit her as she opened her front door. Donnell's back was turned to her, bent over the small stove in the corner they had tentatively designated a kitchen. He still wore the deep blue jacket the markets kept for retainers as their basic uniform, loose and unbuttoned, either just returned from work or too lazy to undress earlier - not that Malin could judge, given her bad days. "Chanterelles?" she said by way of greeting, unbuckling sword from her waist and hooking shield near its place by the door.
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"With raptor,"said Donnell, holding up one finger as if to correct. "Thought I'd try simmering in wine this time. Should be less smoke."
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Malin smiled, though this was replaced by a furrowing of the brow when she considered his choice of ingredients. "A bit expensive, isn't it?"
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"A bit," he conceded, finally turning to face her. He was smirking. He was always smirking. There was something fundamentally funny about life that he'd never been able to articulate except through that particular look of bemusement underneath a head of slicked-back dark blond hair. He'd only had the manners to wipe it off his face during the wedding, and she'd asked him to never do it again. "I had a few good ventures, some generous clients. Good time for a Heavensturn dinner, yeah?"
This got a wince out of Malin. When the year had turned, she'd been checking records on warehouse robberies in Pearl Lane. If he seemed annoyed, he didn't let it show. "Yeah. Good time."
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He made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go, get comfortable. This still needs a little work before I can leave it to simmer. You made it through the day alive, I trust?"
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"Mm." There was silence save for the ambience of bubbling liquid for a few minutes as she exchanged armor for loose cotton attire, settling on the left side of a threadbare couch. "Made a little extra myself, as well," she announced, keeping her voice casual.
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"You did?"Donnell seated himself opposite from her.
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"Mm. Payoff to let someone go."
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His smirk didn't change; Malin had learned to read him by the wrinkling of his eyes, the tone of his voice. "Payoffs? That's not like you." The disapproval had the barest amount of concealment.
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"I know, I know." She knelt forward and rubbed her forehead. "It was . . . it was an excuse, I suppose. I felt I ought to arrest someone, but I'm not sure it was necessary. Bribe's as good a reason to let him go as any, isn't it?"
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"I suppose," he said, looking as though he didn't.
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"There's just something off about this . . . thing,I guess. You've been in the markets. You've seen the jewelry, right? The trinkets?"
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"All the little dragons, yes. Didn't think much about them."
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"Right. They're not coming from Ishgard, though, are they? Not through the Highbridge route, I can tell you that. Somewhere in the city,I think." She sucked on the inside of her cheek in thought. "Better to let him run free and sort it out than lock him up and leave it for myself, I suppose."
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Donnell gave her a furrowed brow of his own. Talking about work, when she was in the midst of it at least, was unusual. "So how much was it?" Malin raised her eyebrows.
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"You know, I never thought to check." She rose from her seat to fetch the pouch and set it down before her. "Let's see." She undid the string.
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Credit was due, here, to Evangeline Primrose's ability to make a pouch that functioned as a smoke bomb feel as if it was full of gil. The blast produced a sharp crack that made Malin throw the pouch against the wall of her flat on instinct, fearing a bomb. Credit was also due for her ability to make the smoke issue all at once instead of pouring out in a stream.
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The door to the Greaves' flat opened, noxious smoke billowing out from within in addition to the Greaves' themselves, stumbling into the street and coughing profusely. Donnell slumped against the opposite wall of the street to catch his breath, taking a few deep wheezes, as Malin went on the alert, checking the road for any signs of attackers, for indications of a planned ambush. Once it was clear there was no threat of anything but the slow gathering of entertained onlookers, she knelt down to check on Donnell. "You're all right?" she said, taking his face and twisting it from left to right to see if he had suffered any burns, her voice professional but strained.
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"I'm fine. I'm - I'm fine, Mal, really."
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She smiled. "Good. I need to go kill an elezen." Â
Verad Bellveil's Profile | The Case of the Ransacked Rug | Verad's Fate Sheet
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
Current Fate-14 Storyline:Â Merchant, Marine
