Another Round (Open)

[Cliodhna Eoghan]

"I'm still figuring on a time and location as of late. Granted it seems that I announce these things a bit rushed; it actually does take some time on my end to figure them out." Chuckling softly with her words. This was nice; the little bit of placid conversation was a needed change compared to her usual miniature companion's booming torrents of self servicing praises. Brows knitting slightly, she shook her head at the thought and drew a few heavy lines on the paper; striking her notes and starting over with slightly different ones.

 

"Well personally I enjoyed the ale but as requested; I'll change the subject...." Trailing off, Cliodhna looked up at the dispute from the bar. Being part of the nationality in question herself; she had been half listening to their quickly heating argument but had felt no desire to comment. Things from her perspective would undoubtedly be considered skewed and that was something Cliodhna would rather not get into anyway.

 

However, the snapping of the wineglass and the placement of....the curious card was strange enough to make Cliodhna twist around in her chair and openly look, hands grabbing the top of the back to her now tilting chair as she leaned over to get a clearer view; her book left open on the table showing a half formed drawing of what looked like various parts with rather delicate inner workings. Some could be crafted by a blacksmith for sure but others would require the more detailed touch, a goldsmith perhaps? Scattered across the page were various notations on sizes, weight, strength requirements and even suggestions on which metals would be preferred over others. Reasons for this were not stated save for one small comment; "Needs Garlean steel for proper conducting"

 

As quickly as it flared up, it seemed to settle. Slightly disappointed, Cliodhna turned around back to her table companion. "Hmm....Thought things were about to get fun for a moment."

[Star Lin]

The female Seawolf push the door open into the Quicksand and brushing a bit of green/yellow hair out of her face.  Kestlona had spent most of the day mining, selling the copper and tin for a bit of extra gil in her pocket.  She stretch her arms up, working out the kink where the pickaxe is resting along her back, but those that might have been paying attention to her will see her eyes flicker across the room, taking in those that were fighters.

 

Kest notice a few others around the Quicksand but instead heads for the bar.  "Miss Momodi," she call out, reaching for the small sack at her side.  As she walk by the Highlander at the center table, eyes turn to the sack, and not paying attention to how close she was to the table.  Her hip hit the table, causing her to freeze in place, and hoping that she hadn't spill any drinks that might have been on it.

 

"'orry, orry," she said, to the hyuran in the worn tunic.  "Pa say I should 'ook where 'm goin'."

[Gegenji]

Judge placed his menu down as Momodi made another circuit around the bar to check on the various patrons seated there. More folks seemed to be flowing in, either to escape the heat of the day outside or to escape the stresses through copious amounts of alcohol.  If the influx continued at this rate, it wouldn't be long at all before all available seats were taken. It was truly the perfect time to be in such an establishment, to see it running as it properly should - as a respite from the day's ills. While Jredthys himself had suffered from no such ills as of yet, he was still here for the complete experience. And that meant partaking of the menu beyond its liquor list.

 

"MADAMME," he intoned. "I WOULD LIKE TO FORMALLY REQUEST ONE 'FINGER SANDWICH,' PLEASE. ON PROPERLY TOASTED WALNUT BREAD, EGG HARD-BOILED AND CUT NEATLY INTO HALF-ILM SLICES, WITH EXACTLY TWO LEAVES OF LETTUCE. PLEASE HAVE IT CUT, DIAGONALLY, INTO HALVES."

 

Jredthys ended his very specific order with a gentle sip of his martini, seemingly oblivious to the look the owner of the establishment was giving him. Or those of the other folks at the bar. Or most anyone who had overheard his nuanced request for a simple finger food. He had placed his order and now it was upon him to wait patiently for it to be prepared and brought to him, prepared as per his instruction. Momodi had provided him with an excellently crafted martini, so the Judge expected much of the sandwich.

 

He would hate to have to Card the owner of such a fine establishment, though perhaps that would be outside the scope his his abilities. He was not here to judge the inadequacies of the establishment, merely to partake of them as fully as a patron should. However, was it not the purpose of a dissatisfied customer to make his complaints known? He would need to ponder deeply on this.

[Warren Castille]

Warren looked up as the female Roe bumped into the table. Momodi's furniture was mostly heavier stuff to help deter brawls (and to stand up to the collateral damage in the event they did break out) but the highlander was slightly surprised to see the thing budge anyway, ever so slightly. He looked up with a smile and opened his hands, palms out to show there was no trouble.

 

"No harm, no foul. He likely mentioned it to help look out for us little folk." Warren smiled again at his comment, the joke obvious given his highlander heritage. Aya had fluttered away, ever the busy bee and social butterfly. He retrieved the glass he'd emptied with some nonchalance, pausing to glance at the band his wife had fashioned for him.

 

"Long day in the hot sun?" Warren let his gaze flicker to the inactive pick on her person, nodding to it casually. "Don't miss those days, but did me a lot of good."

[Star Lin]

Kestlona threw her head back, laughter pouring from her thoat at the Highlander's statement.  "Pa be right about 'hat," she said, grinning at the guy.  She was relieved to see that the mug was empty anyway.  Her own eyes flicker to the ring as well.  The grin became more warm at this turn of event.  She turn her own head slightly, catching site of her pick.  "Ah, it is."  She turn back to him, shrugging her shoulders.  "It bring in the gil...and the city doesn't have much use for a fisher."

 

"KESTLONA," Momodi called out.  Kest's attention snapped over to the female Lalafell.  She gave a quick salute and made her way over to the counter.

 

"Here ya go, Momodi," she said, placing the sack on the counter.  "Cover for the rest off the week."

 

"More then enough."

 

"Need anything run today?" Kest asked, but the Lalafell shakes her head.  "Then can I get two mugs of beer please?"  With both mugs in hand, she made her way back to the highlander.  She sat the beer down then motion to one of the others.  "Might ah join ya?"

[Warren Castille]

Warren watched the roe fetch her drinks and then return. Once she requested permission to sit he nodded at one of the empty chairs present.

 

"Sure, sure. Have a seat! Name's Warren. I figured it's only fair to introduce myself, since Momodi so gleefully introduced you to everyone present. Nice to meet you, Miss Kestlona."

 

The highlander couldn't tell if that was a first name or last name, so he erred on the side of informal formality. He also wasn't too concerned with Sei or Howl discovering him sharing drinks with another woman; Warren was pretty confident they knew his type. That didn't preclude him from meeting new folks, either, even if there was a certain expectation of random encounters in the Quicksand. That was neither here nor there, however.

 

"You mentioned you fish? Curious habit to pick up in a desert. Not from around here, then?"

[Kishi]

This became a typical event in his evening, after a long day of gathering information and going about his daily routine. He would head to the Sands, to have a drink and look over the information he had collected throughout his day. It all became a habit to Keiragi, even down to the clothing he wore. The short sleeve brown leather

jacket, with a red tunic underneath it. A black pair of of pants, and the brown leather boots.

 

He pushed the doors open to the Sands, making his way straight to the bar to order a drink. He didn’t bother giving a look around the room or  pay any mind to the patrons for the evening, figuring them to the same drunken fools he saw nearly on a daily basis. With his drink in hand now, he made his way over to an empty table, tossing the stack of papers he held onto the tabletop, as he took a seat. His gaze lingered on the stack for a moment, at the same time the glass lifted upwards allowing him to take long swig of its contents, before he got to work reading over the papers.

[Telluride]

The bard gave his lute another idle strum as the immediate response to the tinge of disappointment in his table-mate's tone, and quietly plucked out a few more of the notes of the ribald tune that the shattering glass had interrupted.

 

"The night's not over yet, my dear, and people are still coming in. I'm not sure whether or not you really want to see a skirmish go on up there, but if you're going to leap from your chair and go pounce upon one of the patrons, shouting some battle cry, do warn me so I can properly deny that we're together." He followed the sentence with a quick wink.

 

However, the open book caught his eye, and peering from under the brim of his hat, he took a quick scan of the pages, clucked his tongue, and lifted his chin to give the blonde a better view of him.

 

"It occurs to me that despite our more frequent conversations, I don't have much of a grasp as to what it is you do with your time when you aren't getting everyone plastered and turning heads. What's all that?" He said, finally nodding towards the book.

[Cliodhna Eoghan]

"Would be a nice change of pace and it's good exercise, in any case." Tinted lips pucker into a soft pout with her reply before curving into a grin. "I'm sure you've already been spotted in my company and any attempts to denial of your involvement will go unheard." Cliodna rested her chin in the palms of her upturned hands; elbows propped on the table as she spoke.

 

"Well...work doesn't really come into conversation when we've had our last few encounters, but as I've stated before," She paused, shifting her weight till she was sitting on one folded leg, the other rocking back and forth on the toe of her boot in a slightly jittery manner. "I make monsters."

 

Waiting a moment with a straight face, Cliodhna let her free hand skirt over the edge of the book and flip a few more pages; quick images of various devices and weaponry fluttered past view in quick succession. "Currently I'm working on outfitting some airships with proper weaponry to defend themselves in combat. So you can guess that would mean building and attaching all sorts of nasty cannons and things of that nature."

 

A wicked expression gracing her features at this point, her enjoyment from the thought obvious. "but I also tinker in my spare time and make things of my own devices or even reverse engineer things that....others...have made. Usually the latter is done by request of my job to get a better understanding and to see how it can be utilized, but I'd be lying if I didn't say there wasn't a personal interest in it as well...." Cliodhna swept her hair form her shoulders as she trailed off.

[Star Lin]

"Thank ya," Kest said, taking the chair across from him.  Once she was seated, she took a long draw off the first mug of beer.  "Ah, that help a right bit."  She lean back in the chair, eyes closed as she let the last bit of the hot work she had done ease off in the coolness of the room.  One eye fluttered at the sound of the Quicksand's door opening and conversation rolled over her ears, picking bits and pieces out of them, like Alex had taught her.  Nothing of interest, moving on.

 

She sat up a little straighter, "Nice ta meet ya, Warren."  Kestlona gave a grin.  "Me," she said, pointing at herself, "this seawolf be from Limsa."

 

(ooc: sorry, it was short.  Had a lot more to say but I'm suppose to leave for work in a few.)

[Gegenji]

The Judge's finger sandwich took longer than one might have expected for it to be brought to him. Perhaps due to the establishment's servers not wanting to have much to do with such an exacting wall of crafted steel and black-and-white temperament, or perhaps it was because the sandwich itself was being made to such rigorous specifications. The man had snapped a martini glass over a nebulous answer, even if he had apologized and paid for it afterward, so it wasn't so untoward to wonder what his response to an improperly made sandwich might be.

 

Jredthys himself seemed to not be thinking much on such matters, though. He had placed the order, and thus it would be brought to him when it was ready - no sooner and no later. Until then, he had his martini to keep him company, though he made certain to nurse it accordingly. One should not have a meal without drink and one should not overindulge in drink, both rules implying he should ensure a goodly portion of his martini remained in its glass for now. Forbidden: Drunkenness, Recommended: Moderation.

 

It was Momodi herself who brought his meal out to him, perhaps being the only one willing to approach the Judge. She sent a few exasperated glances over her shoulder even as she places the plate down before him, lending some credence to the idea, before moving on to attending the other customers. Or getting the attentions of those under her employ and getting them to attend to said customers. After all, what was the point of having servers if she was still stuck doing all the work herself?

 

This left Jredthys to inspect his sandwich. A tense air seemed to fall around him, as if he had just entered a courtroom and the finger food the accused. Sharp eyes glowered from within the depths of his helmet as he began his inspection of the evidence.

 

Walnut bread, yes. A couple cursory nudges of an armored finger revealed a light crinkling combined with an almost equal amount of yield. He did this with both halves - a ratio he would check in due time - and on both sides of the sandwich. As he finally retracted the probing finger, he gave a curt nod. It had been toasted to an appropriate degree, perhaps with a bit of butter glaze to add to the crispness and flavor.

 

Next, the Judge lifted the topmost piece of bread and counted. One... and two leaves of lettuce. Another inspection proved them lightly damp and crisp, with the wetness only just starting to seep into piece of bread that covered it. It had been added last, as was proper. Yes, good.

 

Thirdly was the eggs, which even the casual-est glance could show that they had been hard-boiled and sliced as requested. However, whether they had been properly boiled and cut into the proper half-ilm segments was still to be answered. The lettuce had been moved to join the top-most slices of bread, and one egg slice was removed from its resting place to be examined. It was squeezed lightly to ensure proper rubbery consistence, and it was compared to the distance betwixt fingertip and knuckle to ensure it was of proper thickness. He proceeded to do this check with every single piece of egg, silently berating himself for not coming to the establishment with a ruler on his person for more exacting measurements.

 

With the two sandwich halves neatly and appropriately disassembled for inspection, what came next was the simple task of reassembling them. Each piece was returned exactly to where it had been, as if he had taken a series of photographs of each step before he had done them in order to recreate it in reverse. In short order, one wouldn't have even known he had taken the sandwich apart in the first place. Of course, those that saw the whole thing unfold were still likely giving him odd looks that he either did not notice due to his intense focus or outright ignored as irrelevant to the matter at hand.

 

Now came the simple matter of ensuring both halves had truly been cut into...

 

Wait. Wait wait wait. Wait.

 

These were not perfect halves. It certainly started well enough, but there had obviously been a second cut made during the division process. From the looks of it, the toasted crust of the bread had deflected the blade somewhat. This led to a minute deviation - a minor arc - less than half of a finger-width from the crust. So close to perfection, so close to proper halves, and yet it was not.

 

This had to be corrected. Snatching a knife from another tavern-goer with surprising speed and deftness, the Judge leaned in and caused a similar divot into the other half of the sandwich. This left two thin tubes of bread, and these offending pieces of imperfection were summarily ground to nothingness in his armored fist. He examined both halves of the sandwich again. Yes, now they were perfect halves.

 

"MY THANKS," he intoned neatly as he returned the knife to its original owner, who was now free to finish cutting into his aldgoat steak. It had all happened with such speed, such suddenness, such intensity that the Hyur could do little more than just nod dumbly and stare at the armored behemoth for a few seconds while limply holding his returned knife. Stare as Jredthys finally settled down to actually eating his sandwich. His exactingly formulated, (now) perfectly sliced finger sandwich. With the appropriate amount of martini to accompany it.

 

This would be a fine meal indeed.

 

I... I just wrote effectively nine paragraphs of Judge examining a sandwich. I don't know how to feel about this.

 

[Coatleque]

The door from Pearl Lane swung open as Ser Crofte entered with a somewhat authoritative stride. She took two steps right to the railing and observed the room before crossing towards the bar. Having come to the end of her round she decided to stop here momentarily before heading back to her office.

 

She stood between the bar areas and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. As her gaze scanned the room she noticed the man sitting to her side and found herself watching him inspect and mutilate a sandwich. Every time she thought he was about to take a bite, there was something else which needed inspection. The shaving off of the sliver was the final straw though.

 

"By the Twelve, will you just EAT it?!"

[Gegenji]

"YES."

 

The answer had barely finished rumbling out of the depths of the armor before the visor was lifted again with a quiet creak of well-maintained metal. The first of the two sandwich halves was picked up gingerly and yet firmly, gauntleted fingertips placed so that it would make the journey in one piece. The finger food was thusly cast into the void within the helmet, and it did not return. The other half only had a few moments to reflect its own fate as the Judge partook of his martini, and whatever thoughts it could have or might have had were lost forever as it too joined its kin in the darkness. A final draining of the glass' contents and Jredthys' meal was concluded.

 

Judge took a moment to reflect on the meal afterward, folding his hands neatly as he had when he had first arrived - his straight-backed and not-seemingly-very-relaxed-at-all "relaxed" position. Other than the minor snafu with the slicing of the sandwich itself, it had been made to his specifications. The walnut bread had indeed been lightly buttered during the toasting process, which - while neither formally requested nor forbidden - had added a pleasant crunch and additional flavor to the already savory treat. He would have to be certain to request it be done again in the future. The Quicksand was certainly worth all the praise that it received, and he would be just as certain to return as well should the time properly allow for such things.

 

He turned then to gauge the source of the sudden urging, and Jredthys' eyes narrowed a bit within the sanctity of his helmet. It would be hard not to place her as one of the Ul'dah's elite royal guard - the Sultansworn. Even if she hadn't been wearing their standard garb, the way she carried herself was not unlike most Paladins of high station. He had seen quite a few over his many years. Was she here on a mission for the Sultana, or merely seeking recreation like himself?

 

If it was the latter, perhaps she too was interested in light conversation. She had initiated such with him after all. Perhaps it might even be better than the rule-violating one he had so briefly entertained with the masked Miqo'te of vexing gray viewpoints. But what to speak of? Ah, of course, there was only one thing to properly speak of here.

 

"IT WAS PROPERLY MADE AND OF GOOD TASTE," he intoned, motioning lightly to now-empty plate. All that was left of his meal was a light dusting of bread crumbs. "RECOMMENDED."

[Warren Castille]

"Limsa's a long walk from here. What's brought you to these parts, besides work breaking rocks?" There was just something to speaking to the people who toiled for their keep instead of collecting vast sums from investment. Perhaps it was because of Warren's own heritage and the path he took to carve his place in life, but he felt like a commoner in armor more than any sort of proper or noble "ser."

 

He was dimly aware of the heavy armor-clad figure and his meal, though while solitary Warren had little reason to be concerned. He didn't seem the sort to suddenly have a beef with the crowd in general and start throwing chairs.

[Telluride]

He must have touched the brim of his hat a number of times as the fair Cliodhna regaled him with talents, interests and skills he'd not suspected of her, for when she trailed off, it was awfully close to coming off of his head. He pulled it back down, covering the top of his forehead, and clucked his tongue.

 

"I don't suppose that if I were sweet enough to you, and plied you with enough bottles of Madjack Red, that you'd consider building me an airship, my dear? As much as I enjoy a good walk, there's just something, well, epic-sounding about the idea of loading up a troupe and all their gear into the air, and coming down to earth to a huddle of gawking fans..."

 

The entry of the recognizable Sultansworn popped into his consciousness, and trailed him off as well, as he realized who she was talking to. He rubbed his chin, nearly without even thinking about it, before continuing his talk with his table-mate.

 

"Looks like it just went double or nothing on that rumble you were hoping for."

[Star Lin]

"Ah, she is a long walk," Kestlona said, giving the highlander a quick smile, "and almost as long by boat."  She look thoughtful, how much to say without giving too much about the Wanders away.  "My first teacher," she said, pulling out her puglist weapons and setting them on the table for Warren to see.  The weapons were well care for, though they were still beginner weapons.  "Before he went 'wandering' off," knowingly loading the word with more meaning then she probably meant too, "he said that I need to learn better control."

 

Her eyes shifted over to the bar, sitting up just a little straighter, concern growing in her.  Yet, relax when she realize that her table partner didn't seem that concern.  Still she kept her ear open in that direction, just in case.  "The guildmaster is great," she said, eyes lighting up as she remember the couple of times that she had stood at the railing and watch how he handle his students, "but with all of the students that he and the other master are working with..."  She shrug her shoulders, knowing that she got lost in with the mix.

 

"So, I've been plying at mining to bring in some extra gil."  It also didn't hurt that the fading spell allow her to get close to a certain beast tribe camp, notebook in hand to start learning their language on her own.

[Warren Castille]

Warren listened politely as the friendly Roe shared a bit of her background. He'd heard good things about the new caretaker of the pugilist's arts; It seemed like a lifetime ago that Sei's sister was working as a fingerbreaker there, and the newfound good reputation seemed a better environment than what used to be. Similarly, her reasons for taking up the pick were near enough to his own. That, too, felt like a lifetime ago.

 

"I've walked a similar path to that, believe it or not, though my time was spent as a raw recruit in the Bloodsands before their last hurrah. Started with a hammer, pounding out shields that were probably more for show than anything, then learned the sport itself. I, too, dropped off many a brick for the Amaljina & Sons to mull over and refine." He smiled fondly at the memory, nostalgia overwhelming him for a brief moment. Things seemed somehow so much easier back then, before Carteneau.

 

"Sometimes the path winds around bends we cannot see, though."

[Berrod Armstrong]

Berrod Armstrong crashed through the front doors of the establishment with his usual lack of grace, looking only slightly harassed this visit. Dressed in creaking black leather from neck to toe, the highlander was the very image of an unarmed fighter. Harness straps wound about his broad torso and led to well-padded leather gauntlets. No weapons hung from his belt or hips, but the multitude of spikes along his heavy-looking boots seemed a good enough substitute. For all the black he wore, blood-red hair crashed into things superbly, pulled back into a folded tail and shaved at the sides. The layer of ruddy scruff along his jaw spoke of days without a shave.

 

Not so much as a glance was yet given to the other patrons before he could conduct his business; the massive hyur strode quickly to the levemete's counter and deposited a sizable rattling sack that had been clutched in his left hand.  "Company's completions for today," He grunted, "We'll do the usual, you take your time, count these up and I'll send Darovic in for the gil later."

 

That said, he finally offered himself a glimpse back at the floor -- only to scowl. There were a few familiar faces, some of whom he considered friends. There was only one course of action on his mind at the sight of his friends in the Quicksand...

 

...an attempt at hasty flight.

 

With another grunt at Eustace the levemete Berrod did his best to propel his large frame toward the exit, inadvertently making himself far more noticeable than before. 

[Coatleque]

Coatleque watched with an inquisitively quirked eyebrow as the man at the bar lifted both a half of the sandwich and the visor of his helmet. Her looked turned to a mixture of horror and disgust as each half was systematically pushed or thrown into the helmet only to disappear. She could not see what became of the sandwich from her angle, and she half expected the man to turn and face her suddenly with food plastered all over his face. Luckily, the visor had been replaced when he did, in fact, turn to address her.

 

She furrowed her brows slightly before closing her eyes and nodding once at his recommendation of the sandwich. Her left hand raised slightly from her crossed arms and she was about to rub her forehead when the sound of the doors at the side of the room being roughly thrown open drew her attention. She watched Berrod quickly cross the room and turned her attention back to the man at the bar with one finger raised. "One moment, if you please."

 

Without awaiting a response she circled around the opposite side of the room to reach the door first and knowing full well the man would do his best to keep his visit brief. She leaned against the wall next to the door in a casual manner with her arms crossed once more. On queue he made his dash right for the exit and may have barreled past her if his attention wasn't drawn.

 

"Why Master Armstrong. A pleasant day we are having, is it not?" she said with a wave.

[Berrod Armstrong]

Berrod lurched to a halt so severe that his boots scraped loudly upon the Quicksand's stone floor. He possessed the distinct demeanor of a large, confused billy -- but worked very hard to manage something onto his face resembling a smile (it was not so much a smile as it was the grimace of a man made to chew broken glass). It wasn't long before he allowed some sort of social grace through. "Hello, Lady Crofte," The smile was a tad less pained by then, at least, "It's been productive, yes, and that makes a pleasant day for me. How have you been?"

 

Indiscretions of the past compelled the gargantuan highlander to regard the other from the nose up only, in an effort so blatantly conscious that he may as well have broken into a sweat. He dared not even look at her hair. 

[Gegenji]

The change in expression was not lost on the Judge, though he certainly found it a rather curious one. Food was made to be consumed, so he had done so. Where was the error in that? He simply had to move his visor such that the sandwich halves could be properly eaten. He had done the same when imbibing his martini before with the masked Miqo'te, though such an expression would have been concealed behind the aforementioned mask.

 

Still, the irritation inherent in that particular conversation seemed to be over her own indecisive nature and Jredthys' calling attention to it. No such words had been exchanged betwixt him and the Sultansworn. In fact, he had been complying with her request to proceed with the intended fate for the finger sandwich. To demand such a thing and then recoil when it was done was questionable. He would have pressed her on it, had she not become distracted by the newest arrival to the establishment.

 

And so Judge sat patiently for Coatleque's return in his "relaxed" position. She had requested a brief reprieve from their conversation, and he saw no reason to deny her it. So, it was only proper to wait until she was finished with whatever other task she needed to accomplish with the other Highlander, and then resume their conversation. Perhaps then he could inquire to her apparent disapproval of his eating methods.

[Cliodhna Eoghan]

Cliodhna raised her brows at his apparent offer. "Well.." She mused aloud, idly chewing on her pencil. "It would take quite a bit of work...These things aren't built cheap and even if I were to do without extra cost of labor; finding the parts alone..." She rolled her dark jade eyes towards the ceiling; flicking left to right as she did calculations in her head.

 

"No no...Even with some "spare" parts and me working on it when time permitted it...It'd take at least half a year's time...and that was if were were lucky enough to find one that was mostly salvaged and just needed the actual engine fixed. If we're talking from scratch oh dear...That would be quite the hefty price tag." Murmuring to herself more by this point; Cliodhna frowned.

 

"If we were that lucky...I'm sure it could be housed in the hanger and the door is wide enough to let three pass at once so getting it inside wouldn't be an issue; provided it was small....Being smaller would help reduce cost but even after all that would have to go into getting it built; there's be the cost of upkeep...." She sighed. "No....I don't think there's a viable way to do this without the proper funds, even if I did only work for your entire stash of Jack-" Words dying on her lips as the outburst came from the redhead across the way then quickly died down. "Seems not..."

 

Returning to a more proper position at the table; Cliodhna leaned her elbow on the wooden surface and let her chin rest in her hand, thoughts that had still been whirling on how to get her hands on a busted airship were quickly derailed as a loud crack of the door hitting the wall broke her concentration. Snapping her attention up with confusion graced on her features; she watched as the large Highlander stomped across the Quicksand and dropped off a heavy looking back of something or another before turning to leave and being stopped by the redhead that had been engaged with the fully armored oddity at the bar.

 

"...It always this interesting in here?" Cliodhna asked Nathan with a raised brow and a soft snort of laughter.

[SM Nick]

Solis and Sakura enter the Quicksand with lunch on their minds.

 

Solis: "Oh boy I'm starving!"

Sakura: "Where should we eat?"

 

Solis's blue crystal necklace glows and points towards the bar.

 

Solis: "Let's eat there, but first!"

 

Solis puts his blue crystal in his pouch as they go towards the bar.

[Coatleque]

Coatleque tilted her head before pushing off the wall to stand straight once more. She was no expert conversationalist herself by any means. From her past dealings with the man, she knew Berrod was even less so. She could not explain why, but her intuition made her feel as if some meddling was required today at least. So she smiled at him.

 

"Please don't tell me you are only here to collect your pay and go! Come, there is the most interesting fellow over there by the bar. Why I've never seen someone make an hors d'oeuvres disappear so quickly. Surely you can spare a moment for at least one drink?"

 

The whole time she tried to usher the man towards the bar area.

[Berrod Armstrong]

The prospect of reprieve from his busy day was tempting enough to stay the emerging scowl. Instead, Berrod returned a smile that was small and brief, gone within blinking. "I can take a short break," He conceded, "Though I'll have juice, or water. No drink for me today."

 

Despite his acceptance of the invitation the Highlander's eyes made a wary flit to glance upon the ironclad fellow. This time, his scowl shone in all its surly glory. "Interesting, you say," He murmured, "That gives me the impression that there's something wrong with him. Let's go have that drink then, and consider it my treat."

 

Less and less did his outward demeanor reflect Berrod's desire to flee -- to a point where he almost looked comfortable. Finally the leather-clad bulk of his form shifted in the direction of the bar.