People never learned to look up. That was the reason that Zhi had focused on her climbing ability when she was younger, the reason why she engaged in it daily. She crouched in a narrow window sill, back to the dilapidated shutters that had been pulled shut and, to her knowledge, hid from view either an abandoned home or a squatter's current residence. She looked down on the man and grinned. It wasn't for whatever emotional vicissitude she felt, but rather a need to expel the anxiety and adrenaline that'd followed her all the way from Scuttlebutt. She probably looked an ugly form of deranged, but no matter. Zhi'd never bothered with pretty. That was something only doxies needed to worry over, and she sure as shit wasn't a doxy.
She considered her options. There were things she wanted to know, aye, but there were consequences for stepping outside the acknowledged parameters of the game. She wasn't so hot about facing those consequences, not even with the Skites like as not to come breathing down her neck, and Galine -- aie, Galine. The smile wavered, but not for long. This man wasn't one of Agha's. If he was, then standards had sure slipped something fierce since she'd been a member, and knowing Agha. . .that wasn't so likely.
"A'right, Clodhopper, here's the rules. Ye'll pay me standard rates, plus an extra three hunnerd gil fer the shite yer drownin' me in." Even if she took his money, thanks to his public announcement she'd never be able to spend it in any way that mattered, not without leaving the city. As it was she was going to have to lay low for oh, the next forever, until people forgot or some other toy was dangled for their fancy. The Skites were like as not to hold a grudge for the next year or two, depended on how things played out. Zhi was not the hunted. If she was gonna earn her way, she'd do it the right way -- not looking over her shoulder for the next couple of years hoping no one found her secret stash of gil.
"Ye pay me half up front. Ye ever approach me like that again, I'll find me own way t'get yer stain out o'the city. Ye get yerself off t'somewhere real quiet, and ye don't spit out a word t'anyone else until ye haul out o'here. Stupid as y'are, I don't want t'risk me hide on yer floppin' tongue.
"An' ye'll tell me, now, what ye know about where th'paper's like t'be -- whatever word ye got, I'll take. Three days is tight, would be tight even fer a top player. After that, I'll meet ye three days from now aboard Her Highness. Ask th'fishin' guild where 'tis if ye don't know. If I don't meet ye, then consider me dead or in irons."
She would ditch the job in its entirety, but she'd need the money for expenses. Fresh jobs from her usual squeezes were going to be slim for the next few months. Very slim.
She considered her options. There were things she wanted to know, aye, but there were consequences for stepping outside the acknowledged parameters of the game. She wasn't so hot about facing those consequences, not even with the Skites like as not to come breathing down her neck, and Galine -- aie, Galine. The smile wavered, but not for long. This man wasn't one of Agha's. If he was, then standards had sure slipped something fierce since she'd been a member, and knowing Agha. . .that wasn't so likely.
"A'right, Clodhopper, here's the rules. Ye'll pay me standard rates, plus an extra three hunnerd gil fer the shite yer drownin' me in." Even if she took his money, thanks to his public announcement she'd never be able to spend it in any way that mattered, not without leaving the city. As it was she was going to have to lay low for oh, the next forever, until people forgot or some other toy was dangled for their fancy. The Skites were like as not to hold a grudge for the next year or two, depended on how things played out. Zhi was not the hunted. If she was gonna earn her way, she'd do it the right way -- not looking over her shoulder for the next couple of years hoping no one found her secret stash of gil.
"Ye pay me half up front. Ye ever approach me like that again, I'll find me own way t'get yer stain out o'the city. Ye get yerself off t'somewhere real quiet, and ye don't spit out a word t'anyone else until ye haul out o'here. Stupid as y'are, I don't want t'risk me hide on yer floppin' tongue.
"An' ye'll tell me, now, what ye know about where th'paper's like t'be -- whatever word ye got, I'll take. Three days is tight, would be tight even fer a top player. After that, I'll meet ye three days from now aboard Her Highness. Ask th'fishin' guild where 'tis if ye don't know. If I don't meet ye, then consider me dead or in irons."
She would ditch the job in its entirety, but she'd need the money for expenses. Fresh jobs from her usual squeezes were going to be slim for the next few months. Very slim.
