Streetside Jive (Request)

[Zhavi]

Vijako had twisted at Fejar's words, without answering, to push into the tavern and see for herself, but her ears went flat as she heard a particularly interesting word. Fikker. She looked back at Fejar as if to mark him with her eyes, and then she penetrated deeper into the building, skirting around the edges of the crowd to get a better look at the man who might as well have been soapboxing.

 

The offer interested her, even if she was already spoken for in raw, cold gil. She turned back to Fejar and motioned for him to come closer to her. It paid to know the currents that flowed through the city, and something as public as this would have quite the effect come sundown. She'd mutter to him, if he came near: "If gil's the heart o' this city, this here's the bones. Look well. Listen good."

 

Several men and women called out gruff and shrill alike their qualifications, not without their own seedy suggestions and catcalls. It was chaotic, but not loud. Vijako waited to see how the man would treat these street scum, what he would say to them next.

[Nikolai]

At the woman's beckon, Fejar approached hesitantly. At her words, he simply nodded. She was right; it was time to observe. What a display it was... it would seem their culture allowed for public, unrestrained discussion of assassination in broad daylight. Was the act of murder, then, acceptable as well? He pondered for a moment. This city was fascinating-- to observe, at any rate, but he could not live here. How could anyone? Yes, as soon as he had the money and supplies, he would travel elsewhere... but what if murder was the only means of earning your keep in this place? He shuddered at the thought; he did not think himself capable.

 

He wished he could just leave, but now was not the time. There was something bigger at work here, and he had a feeling that this woman knew what it was. Besides, he was guaranteed a place to sleep safely here tonight. He thought back to the lalafell from the alley. He had said to ask for someone... "the fisher", was it? He stood, watching. Was the fisher here amongst the crowd? Or perhaps this eccentric man was the one they sought? Now did not seem a good time to ask, and so he remained vigilant; time would tell.

[DAISHI]

A shine lit upon the bald man's head, his unhinged grin falling on the newcomers.

 

"We have guests," he said, tongue falling out of his mouth and licking at the shimmering alcohol that still remained on his lips. "But who isn't a guest in this wench? She's a whore for sure and her occupants all prostitutes." His fingers went to the interior of his long coat, ripping another dagger from his chest. "So what'll it be?" he asked holding the dagger upwards, its edges bare and deadly. "Perhaps you've heard the offer? This is a public advertisement, after all. I'm looking for a few good men. I suppose a few good women, if they have what it takes, and I'm not talking about what's sitting on your chest."

 

He laughed a little, infinitely amused at himself. "As for the rest of you, feel free to find me. Or if you're thinking about coming after me to appease your leash holder, then tell Fikker he's free to find me here. I'm waiting to slit his throat anyway." His eyes grew wide, the whites of them shimmering in the light, almost as if the emotional rush of the moment had put tears to them. "Now make your decision dogs. Either you're ready for some fun, or my money's not good enough, and either way I'm bored with the lot of you."