It was the waiting that proved most difficult. Warren had indeed been following the brute known to some as Baxley for the better part of a week, and he'd correctly surmised that he wouldn't respond to conversation in a way that proved useful. Warren had never been able to close the distance enough to overhear much of anything, but the highlander seemed to fill the role of a fingerbreaker. He'd watched Baxley meet with an elezen after hours near the edge of a dock and the script practically wrote itself even at a distance.
The willowy treefolk welcomed the highlander like family. The highlander stood like a stone and said something short and to the point. The elezen looked dismayed for a moment, shrugging in a way that cried for sympathy. The highlander shook his head and muttered something again. The elezen began to back away. The highlander was on him in an instant. The elezen's leg wasn't supposed to bend that way. The highlander accepted a small pouch.
That had been the only violent incident Warren had witnessed during the week, barring his own, but the brute was busy during the daylight hours as well. It was always brief meetings, a person dropping something nearby that he then acquired or the reverse. Brief greetings with handshakes and closeness that Warren suspected was sleight of hand to pass things. Inconspicuous to any who might notice it; after all there were always those who walked the docks in the Fisherman's Bottom, old sea hands remaining near to the sea or those who simply didn't have any better place to be in the day. Warren's thoughts briefly touched back to Ul'dah and the miseries shared in Thanalan; Limsa Lominsa didn't have a refugee problem but Her People had their own plights. Small benefits, though, in that Warren's lingering and meandering didn't seem terribly out of place amidst anyone else's.
He had finally chosen to engage his contact when he'd agreed that the best method of getting a reaction was force. Warren had been surprised by the brute's use of begging to create an opening, but it gave Warren the feeling this wasn't just a dumb muscle hired to reclaim things. Verene had referred to the names she'd gleaned as "runners" and Warren didn't want to make the mistake of underestimating them again.
He was lucky when the highlander relented at mention of his name. It was fabricated, of course. The anonymous purveyor of Figgenbottom's and Bockenbower's estates had indeed remained nameless and unidentifiable and that lent credence to his con. Warren was counting on the unknown portion of the dealings to let him work in the grey areas. He felt the bet was safe, given that Bockenbower's last squeeze didn't have any idea who would have possessed his estate either.
Warren finally breathed a sigh of relief with Baxley returned to the unlit side street he'd instructed Warren to wait at. No back-up, no double-cross. Just one angry highlander who felt he owed Warren for the trouble earlier.
"A'ight. Boss said he'll meetcha."
Showtime.
The willowy treefolk welcomed the highlander like family. The highlander stood like a stone and said something short and to the point. The elezen looked dismayed for a moment, shrugging in a way that cried for sympathy. The highlander shook his head and muttered something again. The elezen began to back away. The highlander was on him in an instant. The elezen's leg wasn't supposed to bend that way. The highlander accepted a small pouch.
That had been the only violent incident Warren had witnessed during the week, barring his own, but the brute was busy during the daylight hours as well. It was always brief meetings, a person dropping something nearby that he then acquired or the reverse. Brief greetings with handshakes and closeness that Warren suspected was sleight of hand to pass things. Inconspicuous to any who might notice it; after all there were always those who walked the docks in the Fisherman's Bottom, old sea hands remaining near to the sea or those who simply didn't have any better place to be in the day. Warren's thoughts briefly touched back to Ul'dah and the miseries shared in Thanalan; Limsa Lominsa didn't have a refugee problem but Her People had their own plights. Small benefits, though, in that Warren's lingering and meandering didn't seem terribly out of place amidst anyone else's.
He had finally chosen to engage his contact when he'd agreed that the best method of getting a reaction was force. Warren had been surprised by the brute's use of begging to create an opening, but it gave Warren the feeling this wasn't just a dumb muscle hired to reclaim things. Verene had referred to the names she'd gleaned as "runners" and Warren didn't want to make the mistake of underestimating them again.
He was lucky when the highlander relented at mention of his name. It was fabricated, of course. The anonymous purveyor of Figgenbottom's and Bockenbower's estates had indeed remained nameless and unidentifiable and that lent credence to his con. Warren was counting on the unknown portion of the dealings to let him work in the grey areas. He felt the bet was safe, given that Bockenbower's last squeeze didn't have any idea who would have possessed his estate either.
Warren finally breathed a sigh of relief with Baxley returned to the unlit side street he'd instructed Warren to wait at. No back-up, no double-cross. Just one angry highlander who felt he owed Warren for the trouble earlier.
"A'ight. Boss said he'll meetcha."
Showtime.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
