The Cap'n tilted his head at her answer, his expression never wavering as he mused upon how to respond to it. He was fairly certain he had hinted obliquely enough to the fact that he knew that they were here, in Candlekeep. Either she was forcefully trying to avoid revealing her hand, or she was just bad at picking up contextual cues from her fellow actor. For that was what he saw her as: another actor performing on this stage with him, together in a scene set in a stuffy tavern where a "Flame" met with a "Pirate." She was certainly visually appealing - he found most Miqo'te to be, really - but she seemed ill-fitted to playing such a major role.
At least she was starting to slip into her character a bit better, with less stumbling over her lines as the scene continued. That brought a more sincere smile to his face as he curled his resting hand into a fist, rolling his head sidewards to rest his cheek upon the back of it. He continued to make lazy circles and figure-eights in the air with the envelope as the Keeper jockeyed for control of the conversation again.
"Enemies, detractors, hecklers; I have my fair share, yes," the pirate captain answered simply enough, though the way he said it made it seem more like bragging than anything else. "Enough to ensure that any scene is properly set before I take the stage, and that my troupe is ready to move into whatever position required. We have to be ready for any slips and stumbles our fellow actors take, after all, and react accordingly to the whims of our audiences. I can only assume that you have done the same?"
His smile faded a bit as Kiht continued, however. The calm yet serious tone heavily implying that she wished to turn the delightful back-and-forth dialogue betwixt them into something more sinister, more dramatic. He was happy enough to oblige, of course, but had they truly reached the part of the scene where they descended into lightly veiled threats? It certainly felt like someone was trying to jump ahead in the script. How naughty.
"Mayhaps, mayhaps; perhaps, perhaps," Distractin' countered liltingly with a light shrug of his shoulders. "Yet, you seemed so certain of your entourage's whereabouts before. Is your own troupe truly so motley and disarrayed? I mean, I have eyes on them easily enough." Both his stare and his tone suddenly gained a dangerous edge to them, making his smile seem a bit less cheerful and infinitely more threatening. "Like your fellow kitten in the kitchen, for example..."
And then the edge was gone, as if it was never there to begin with.
"But yes, let us take a look at this missive of yours, I'm sure it'll be quite entertaining," he mused, lifting his head off his fist. That hand snapped up and over in one sudden motion, both revealing and opening the switchblade that had been concealed within. Had it always been there? Without waiting for the reactions of Kiht and her crew of two, he slid the knife under the wax seal and broke it in one deft motion. Its purpose complete, the weapon-turned-tool was relegated to spinning idly betwixt his dextrous fingers as he withdrew the letter and began to read.
"... My, oh my, oh my," Distractin' purred as he skimmed over the albeit brief contents of the letter. He had noted the seal's authenticity before slicing it in twain, which was a delightful touch. The contents within were also quite well-scribed, and the Dunesfolk might have easily mistaken it for the real thing...
... Had it gone through the channels the Cap'n himself had originally set to deal with any criticisms of his performance. Of course, Kiht's troupe apparently had not known of that, so he supposed he could be magnanimous and continue to play along. They had come all this way to see him, after all. It was the least he could do.
"Speaking of detractors and hecklers," he alluded with a more wry edge to his grin, his silvery eyes flitting up to the Keeper. "It appears that someone isn't happy with my performance. A shame."
Distractin' ceased in his spinning of the switchblade, nimbly closing it one-handed before concealing it back within his fist. When that hand opened again to stroke at the Lalafell's beard, the blade was gone. A simple sleight of hand, perhaps? Or mayhaps he was hinting that he had other such tools readily at his disposal, ready to be drawn seemingly from nowhere if his guests got too aggressive. With the slight tipping of his own hand to match hers not moments before, it was certainly hard to say.
"So, my little Flame Kitten." The Dunesfolk idly began to crumple both missive and envelope in his hand. It had said that Kiht had not been informed of the contents. Perhaps he would test that. "It says that you require restitution for my supposed failings. So, what - or how much - do you need? And - if you would oblige me in this, at least - what exactly did I do wrong?"
At least she was starting to slip into her character a bit better, with less stumbling over her lines as the scene continued. That brought a more sincere smile to his face as he curled his resting hand into a fist, rolling his head sidewards to rest his cheek upon the back of it. He continued to make lazy circles and figure-eights in the air with the envelope as the Keeper jockeyed for control of the conversation again.
"Enemies, detractors, hecklers; I have my fair share, yes," the pirate captain answered simply enough, though the way he said it made it seem more like bragging than anything else. "Enough to ensure that any scene is properly set before I take the stage, and that my troupe is ready to move into whatever position required. We have to be ready for any slips and stumbles our fellow actors take, after all, and react accordingly to the whims of our audiences. I can only assume that you have done the same?"
His smile faded a bit as Kiht continued, however. The calm yet serious tone heavily implying that she wished to turn the delightful back-and-forth dialogue betwixt them into something more sinister, more dramatic. He was happy enough to oblige, of course, but had they truly reached the part of the scene where they descended into lightly veiled threats? It certainly felt like someone was trying to jump ahead in the script. How naughty.
"Mayhaps, mayhaps; perhaps, perhaps," Distractin' countered liltingly with a light shrug of his shoulders. "Yet, you seemed so certain of your entourage's whereabouts before. Is your own troupe truly so motley and disarrayed? I mean, I have eyes on them easily enough." Both his stare and his tone suddenly gained a dangerous edge to them, making his smile seem a bit less cheerful and infinitely more threatening. "Like your fellow kitten in the kitchen, for example..."
And then the edge was gone, as if it was never there to begin with.
"But yes, let us take a look at this missive of yours, I'm sure it'll be quite entertaining," he mused, lifting his head off his fist. That hand snapped up and over in one sudden motion, both revealing and opening the switchblade that had been concealed within. Had it always been there? Without waiting for the reactions of Kiht and her crew of two, he slid the knife under the wax seal and broke it in one deft motion. Its purpose complete, the weapon-turned-tool was relegated to spinning idly betwixt his dextrous fingers as he withdrew the letter and began to read.
"... My, oh my, oh my," Distractin' purred as he skimmed over the albeit brief contents of the letter. He had noted the seal's authenticity before slicing it in twain, which was a delightful touch. The contents within were also quite well-scribed, and the Dunesfolk might have easily mistaken it for the real thing...
... Had it gone through the channels the Cap'n himself had originally set to deal with any criticisms of his performance. Of course, Kiht's troupe apparently had not known of that, so he supposed he could be magnanimous and continue to play along. They had come all this way to see him, after all. It was the least he could do.
"Speaking of detractors and hecklers," he alluded with a more wry edge to his grin, his silvery eyes flitting up to the Keeper. "It appears that someone isn't happy with my performance. A shame."
Distractin' ceased in his spinning of the switchblade, nimbly closing it one-handed before concealing it back within his fist. When that hand opened again to stroke at the Lalafell's beard, the blade was gone. A simple sleight of hand, perhaps? Or mayhaps he was hinting that he had other such tools readily at his disposal, ready to be drawn seemingly from nowhere if his guests got too aggressive. With the slight tipping of his own hand to match hers not moments before, it was certainly hard to say.
"So, my little Flame Kitten." The Dunesfolk idly began to crumple both missive and envelope in his hand. It had said that Kiht had not been informed of the contents. Perhaps he would test that. "It says that you require restitution for my supposed failings. So, what - or how much - do you need? And - if you would oblige me in this, at least - what exactly did I do wrong?"
~