(IC) New Orleans by Night CtL

[JeenLeen]

With a heavy sigh of worry and anticipation, Emma (in her borrowed form) walks through the front gate. If watched, the precision and care she takes to avoid the iron may give something away to those in-the-know, but she otherwise forces her Maks's face and form to a mild, friendly appearance.

She gives three knocks at the door.

[Bennosuke]

There seems to be no one out on the street, or at least not in this god-forsaken part of the city. The stairs up the porch moan and protest, despite Emma's svelt build. When she knocks on the door, there is no reply. She waits a moment and as far as the changeling can tell, there is absolutely no movement from inside.

A quick check shows all the lights are out as well, making Emma fairly certain no one is home, and a quick test of the knob shows the door is locked, but probably not bolted, and could probably be picked fairly easily... if she felt like a bit of larceny.

[JeenLeen]

Emma pauses at the door for about a minute, contemplating her options. She did have her lockpicks in her purse, but the idea of breaking into a motley's home seemed... well, a violation. Even if in a good cause, such felt contrary to the social mores of changeling society and morality itself. She only had the word of a likely-trusted but certainly-not-trustworthy enforcer that something bad was going on.

With a sigh, she decides to sit and rest for a bit. If nothing happens -- no calls back, nobody shows up -- for thirty minutes, she'll reconsider.
But after a minute, she decides to try giving Reggie a call again.

Spoiler: lockpicks

Show

At first I was going to say she had her lockpicks secreted in the folds of her stockings or something like that, to keep mundanes from finding it. But between her shifting-faces and lying-skills, that's not actually a big enough concern for such discomfort.

I was going to justify it via this line: I'm pickturing lockpicks as relatively small, based on what I've seen in videogames, and as a guy I have no clue how uncomfortable what I'm suggesting would be. If that's unreasonable due to size or discomfort, them in the purse is fine. She's a good-enough liar that she's not too worried if the grandkids or a cop found them.

[Bennosuke]

Emma takes a seat on the porch; the wood groaning under her shifting weight. She pulls out her phone, and to her surprise, a roll of thunder peals out, seemingly at the same time as a flash of lightning. Rain poured down hard on the crumpling house, though just a few blocks away the weather seemed perfectly pleasant.

Emma's next attempt at calling Reggie is even stranger than the first. This time he picks up the phone, but his reply is even stranger... and strangely familiar. "Hey Emma, sorry I could not reach you dear," his voice is distant, but his accent and emphasis still terribly British, "it was good meeting you the other night. I was wondering if you would be willing to meet for lunch some time. I am working on a new fundraiser for Charity Hospital, and I thought I might benefit from your... refined taste." This was a voice message left by Reggie soon after the first time they had met! Emma was not even certain she still had the message in the memory of her current smart phone. When she tried to speak, it was as if Reggie could not hear her. More Hedge interference.

Putting down the phone, the one other thought Emma had was that she could try contacting one of Reggie's motley members. If she remembered correctly, he had three other companions all of whom lived in the same house. It was awfully peculiar that not a single one of them was home.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

To see if Emma has contact info for any of Reggie's motley mates, give me Wits + Socialize + any city status she has.

[Bennosuke]

If Emma remembered correctly, Reggie's three housemates were all members of different Freeholds; just like Reggie to be so egalitarian. There was a big fellow who dressed in medieval black armor who went by Tom Mallory. He was also Kayoodle Krewe, though he was Summer Court and overall less involved in the Freehold politics. Emma didn't know him as well, but his sinister countenance and massive frame made him hard to forget.

Reggie also lived with a nervous frizzy haired wreck named Sebastian Rivers. He was a member of the Lagniappe Tribune, though why they had accepted him Emma would never know. Sebastian was a Wizened who seemed to suffer from significant social anxiety, and spent most of his time (so Emma had heard) wrapped up in his puzzles.

But try as she might, Emma could not recall who Reggie's third housemate was. If Emma remembered correctly, the last one was not a member of any Freehold, which was probably why Emma couldn't seem to remember her.

As it just so happened, Emma had both Tom and Sebastian's contact information, though she couldn't for the life of her remember how she got either of their numbers.

[JeenLeen]

Emma will try to call Tom. As intimidating as his appearance is, at least he is of the same Freehold. If that fails to connect (or only 'connects' in some Hedge-warped fashion), she'll try Sebastian.

[Bennosuke]

The reply from Tom's phone was much the same, though slightly more disturbing as the only noises coming from the other side were the clanging of metal with grunts of exertion, as if Emma were listening in on some epic sword fight between Tom and an unknown foe.

However, to Emma's relief, Sebastian picked up when he was called. "Hello, this is Sebastian Rivers," the changeling said in a slightly nasal voice that was tinged with a stuffy British accent, and who spoke as if he was uncertain as to who was calling him and why. As if to confirm this, Sebastian follows with, "may I ask who is calling?"

[Hemnon]

************************************************** **********

Lily on the other hand headed out to the French Market. On this side of The Hedge, The French Market was a collinade of shops and stands off of the Mississipi river; mostly selling trinkets, mementos and cheap clothing. Once the market had been a Native American trading post, but now was little more than a glorified tourist trap.

Of course, there were several doors and access points that led off of the Market into the Hedge where the true Goblin Market could be found. The Tumbledown Market was a sprawling cacophonous expanse of stalls and small shops that wound out for miles and miles into The Hedge. It was rumored that The Tumbledown Market was the largest goblin market anywhere in the world, and was so vast that corners of the market could be used to escape into other towns across America. Smells of exotic Fae spices, smokey grilled sweet meats, and floral goblin fruit assaulted the senses, just as the call of hawkers and performers filled the ears. One could easily get lost in the market, and it was often best to know what you were looking for. Members of the Freehold of Fair Coin, as well as the plentiful goblins were merciless and could find many ways to part an unprepared Changeling from his wallet.

(OOC: Again, sorry for the delays)

Calliope kept her focus and cool on her objective, remainging as center-road as possible as she walked through The Tumbledown Market, showing no direct interest to any booth, stall or peddled ware.
Rather than looking like she was seeking something, she remained passively curious to everything, and thus also nothing in particular, just keeping her eyes and ears open for any potential and valid information brokers.
She'd pocketed the signed contractual paper piece from Emma, along with having one of those little telephone things with her as well, in case she needed to call Emma to confirm what the price would be for the information needed.
With her being in a very, shall we say, non-mortal place, everyone else would of course clearly be able to see her Mein (since she wasn't actively trying to hide it from non-mortals). Her somewhat sadness touched, somber expression that she usually had was much more powerful when seen on her Mein, rather than her Mask, along with the effect of her Winter Mantle leaving her hair sparkling as if studded with small gemstones, the icey motes of frost sprinkling in the air around her, a trail of chilled air following in her wake.

[JeenLeen]

With an audible sigh of relief, Emma says in a slightly rushed tone with just the right bit of panick ('tis chosen for effect, but rather sincere, too, as she is quite concerned for her friend): "This is Emma, of the Krew. I've been trying to reach Reggie regarding something... unsettling... I heard, but when I tried to call him, it sounded like he's in some sort of trouble in the Hedge. I got a similar thing when I tried to call Tom. And you're the last one of his motley whose number I know. Can we talk in person? I'm concerned about them."

[Bennosuke]

As Calliope moves with purpose through the crowded market, her eyes fall upon a small wooden sign that hangs over the gnarled brown door of a twisted wooden structure that looks like the cross of an old camping outhouse, and a fabled Witche's Hut. Painted on the sign is the image of a crystal ball with three stars inside it. A smokey incense can be picked up from outside of the shack, perhaps the smell of baking cookies? Gingerbread? If Calliope remembered correctly, this was the hut of the fabled elderly storyteller Wren Lamontaigne. Rumor had it that her captor had made her tell stories until she was hoarse, then tell more. The way heard it, she knew every story there was to tell and Changelings who needed information would often come to her with offerings of honey and tea to sooth her ragged throat in exchange for vital information.

Farther down the alleyway was a large makeshift stall painted with a sign reading "The Best Goblin Fruit Punch!" painted in bright red childish letters. The stall was absolutely surrounded by hobgoblins and Changelings alike. Some were perched around the bar drinking brightly colored beverages out of pint glasses, while others walked away from the bar; their drinks in red plastic go cups. Manning the bar was a giant and rotund blue skinned hobgoblin with bright yellow eyes and a Cheshire cat's grin. His finely tailored pink button down shirt was tucked into well used and severely stained white apron and three pairs of meaty arms worked steadily; dicing up goblin fruit, mixing cocktails in tall bronze shakers, and passing out drinks to the eager customers. Perhaps in his busy day, the bartender might be willing to make some extra coin by sharing all the gossip he heard from the massive throng of drunk customers.

Even farther down the road, a wiry figure stood in the entrance of a side alley. She had mottled yellow scaly skin and three almond colored eyes that crowded around a long pointed nose. Could this be the famous Changeling Fuxi, seller of illicit tokens and lost belongings? She casts furtive knowing glances to shoppers who passed by, every once in a while stepping out from the alley to whisper after a potential customer. Most pedestrians seemed to try to avoid this woman, though perhaps she had what Calliope was looking for.

************************************************** ************

"What? Oh!" Sebastian starts with nervous surprise. "Well, I believe Reggie and Tom are very busy at the moment," he replies, but then seeming to think on it he adds, "You know something unsettling you say? Well... I guess... if it's important you could come meet me at Idlewild. It's a small bar off of Bourbon street. I don't suspect you will get a hold of Tom or Reggie any time soon, and I did promise them I'd meet them here. I can give you directions if you want."

[JeenLeen]

Well, at least it seems likely Reggie has told his motley something. Guess shoulda realized that, if Tom is also in the Hedge.

Returning a touch of the nervousness, she says, "Y-yes. That sounds good. I think I've seen the Idlewild before. I'll head there now."

Giving a look over the house for no real reason, as if half-expecting some ghost of shadow of Tom or Reggie to appear, she leaves and heads toward Bourbon Street.
A public place, but meeting the entire motley. Not very safe if they turn out to be a threat, but there's not too much they can do amongst so many mortals. At least, she hopes so.

[Bennosuke]

A single small thunderclap acknowledges Emma's departure. Within less than two blocks the skies have cleared, and Emma is again walking in the cool evening October breeze.

Fortunately, Reggie's house is just south of St. Charles Circle, making it a relatively quick and relatively safe walk up to Bourbon Street and Idlewild. Bourbon is relatively busy for a week night, though it's mostly drunk out of town college kids. Music plays from nearly every bar; some buildings tickle Emma with live jazz, others scream at her the bass pulse of house music. Despite the lack of street lights, the road is well lit by the glow of neon street signs and the yellow glow of second floor apartments shining out over bead festooned balconies. Emma catches a few glances, but is mostly left to herself on her way to the bar.

When Emma gets to Idlewild, she finds Sebastian waiting outside. He's framed by the round arched wooden door, painted a faded crimson. The Wizened has a weary but impish face, his face framed by a wild mess of ashy curls, and his Mein shows exaggerated features; elongated nose, bat like ears, and doll like orbs for eyes. "Emma?" he asks curiously, offering a hand to shake.

[JeenLeen]

"Yes," she says, taking his hand. "Sebastian, I assume? Shall we go inside to talk, or would you prefer out here? And, um, any idea if Reggie should be here to meet you on the sooner side?"

She tries to hide her outright panic about her friend's safety (both immediate from a potential fight in the Hedge, or more looming in the sense of Typhon's investigation) from her voice, letting out the concern without the deeper worries.

[Bennosuke]

Sebastian's handshake is unsurprisingly soft, clearly lacking in the assertive confidence that Emma was used to. "Let's go inside," he says with a shrug, "I've got a table in the back where we can chat."

The inside of the bar is not much more than a low ceiling wooden flat. Even the bar top is made of polished wood, and the in-ornate wooden stools have been propped around bourbon barrels that have been turned so that their flats can be used as tables. The place is surprisingly busy; filled mostly with college students and a few restaurant workers who are either getting ready or have just finished a shift. There is no music playing, but the bar is filled with the buzz of lively conversations.

The only other changeling in the building that Emma sees is the bartender. His mask shows a thin man in his thirties with a wet mop of straw-blonde hair, and a matching mutton chop mustache/sideburn combo. He has sad bloodshot blue eyes that somehow go with his innocent toothy grin. But to a Changeling, the man is like a human-dog hybrid, with droopy muzzle and long heavy ears. He gives Emma a toothy knowing grin as Sebastian leads her into the bar, as well as a curt bow of his head. He looks familiar to Emma, but he is definitely not a member of her Freehold.

Sebastian brings Emma to a barrel in the back of the room, covered with a number of crossword puzzles, and a near empty beer stein. Once the two have sat down, he replies to Emma's question. "Reggie went of on... an errand," he starts uncomfortably, "with Tom and Songbird. I was supposed to meet them here later, but I don't really know when they will be getting back." Songbird was also not a name Emma was particularly familiar with, but Sebastian says it casually, as if Emma would know.

[JeenLeen]

Emma gives a polite nod and smile towards the dog-man bartender, and listens intently to Sebastian's words.

Deciding to go with her gut of laying most of her cards on the table, she says, "I tried called Reggie. I heard him fighting someone, I think in the Hedge. Like, my call wasn't really answered, but somehow picked up something... not sure how that even could happen, but... Anyway, I heard Reggie saying stuff like he was capturing someone or tying someone up, but then it seemed to go south. Can't tell if Reggie or someone else was in pain. When I called Tom, I heard sounds of fighting as well." Pointedly, she asked, "What in the world is happening? Why would Reggie be involved in something like that?"

[Bennosuke]

Sebastian appears to feign surprise, but can't do much better than a contemplative "Hmmmm," in reaction to Emma.

After a moment's pause, Sebastian replies sharply to Emma's question, seeming to explode in stifled frustration. "You don't want to know," he says in a hiss, "trust me... it's probably better if we keep as many people out of it as possible." Sebastian collapses back into his stool after this, and mutters perhaps to himself, "It's all going sideways anyways."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

So Sebastian does not want to give up the goose here, so I'm going to ask that Emma makes some sort of social roll, perhaps persuasion or intimidation to try to get him to speak. His composure will act as a negative modifier at -3.

[JeenLeen]

Spoiler: dice

Show

Manipulation (3) + Persuasion (2) - 3 penalty = 2 dice

(2d6)[6][1](7)

Emma sighs. "Sebastian, I want to help Reggie. I admit I don't really know you or Tom. I can't even remember how I got your contact info, but Reggie helped introduce me to the Krew and really get oriented in our society. And he's a good guy. If he's in trouble, I want to help. And I learned this morning that trouble is looking for him, beyond whatever is going on this moment.
"Let me help. Please tell me what is going on."

She is hoping her plea reaches him. If not... maybe she'll promise him a debt.

Spoiler: OOC question

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with Unravel the Trapestry (pg.139-140), the loophole is incurring some debt unpaid. It says even promising a tip to a barista counts, so I reckon Emma could quickly say, "I owe you a favor", then rewind time if the roll fails.

Two questions
1. Does the debt matter? It's not sealed by Glamour or remembered (or really happened, since time rewound).
2. If the loophole is met, is just the Glamor cost removed, or is the total cost? This costs 1 WP + 2 Glamor, so I'm not sure if it's worth it if the WP cost remains.

[Bennosuke]

Sebastian raises an eye, taking a breath in but hesitates before saying anything.

(OOC: I interpret it to be any sort of debt... but I feel like the other character has to accept the debt. And loopholes only save the Glamour, not the WP.

I would consider alternatively just spending a WP to get three additional dice. No promises, but statistically it should be worth a success, and it would be rolling 3d10 rather than getting to reroll 2)

[JeenLeen]

With a heavy sigh, Emma leans in, whispering: "Listen, please. Someone dangerous came around asking me if I knew anything. I'm hesitant even to mention his name. I might be in trouble just because I know Reggie. If I can help Reggie get out of this mess, or if it's some mess worth getting that sort of person angry at you... then it's probably something worth helping. Please."

Spoiler

Show

I'm wary of using Willpower, but let's explore the mechanics.
(3d10)[4][9][7](20)

[Bennosuke]

Sebastian's expression changes from one of hesitant concern to wide eyed shock. "Oh dear," the Wizened says with immediate distress. He leans forward across the table and whispers, "You mean... the lizard man, don't you. You mean Typhon. Oh dear, oh dear." Sebastian practically falls back into his chair, slumping over so that his wild main of curls falls over his face and he is forced to run a nervous hand through to comb it back into place. After a moment of seeming to mutter to himself, Sebastian sighs and says in his reedy British accent, "Very well then... I mean it looks like you're in it now anyways," and rolls his eyebrows.

His eyes dart across the room, perhaps scanning for anyone who might be listening in. "I think it's safe in here," Sebastian says furtively, perhaps to himself before continuing, "but let's just say that we found out something very very bad about the... the Hallow's Eve Contract. We think there is a conspiracy among the leaders of the Freeholds to... well to perpetrate something terrible." As Sebastian talks his hands begin to shake, and his speech becomes stuttered and unsteady. A hand comes up to wipe sweat from Sebastian's brow, and again pull back his hair.

(OOC: I've taken the one WP out of your pool)

[JeenLeen]

Emma lets a nervous expression come to both her Mask and Mien, biting her lip.
"Yeah, that lizard with the Kool-Aid. I have no idea how he found me. Gave me his card, asked me to call him if I found out anything about Reggie. But I'd like to give Reggie -- and you all -- the benefit of the doubt. If this is something bad enough to draw you into conflict with that, then--well, maybe it needs resolving and maybe you need friendship. But the Freehold leaders? Really? That's... well, I can't say I don't believe it, but it's a painful thing to accept."

She sighs. "What are they doing? Is Reggie, or Tom, in danger now?"

Spoiler: Fortifying Presence

Show

Using the loophole, Emma activates this. Presence + Empathy + Wyrd = 5 dice, resisted by his Resolve + Wyrd.

(5d10)[9][4][7][9][9](38)

I realize the Contract might not activate until further into the conversation, but went ahead and rolled.
As a contested roll, does he roll and we see who has more successes? Or is it my dice pool has his deducted from it? If the latter, I guess take the first few dice, as appropriate. But in this case doesn't probably matter much, as 9s on both ends.

[Bennosuke]

Max's Prelude

Le'ts Dance... Under the moonlight, the serious moonlight!

-David Bowie, Let's Dance

Max Olsen sat at the back of The Speckled Feline, at a table all by himself in the middle of the afternoon. He had been drinking in the back by himself since he'd heard the bad news; Julia was going to have to sell the bar! The Speckled Feline was an old and homey bar on a busy strip of Frenchmen Street in The Faubourg Marigny, north of Bourbon Street. Like many clubs on the street, it was known for it's eclectic mix of live music that started in the afternoons and continued until after midnight, and in many ways it was a second home to many musicians as well as many Changelings in New Orleans.

Julia had told Max that the building was just in too much disrepair, so the landlord was upping the rent for the third time this year! She just could not keep up with the rising monthly cost, despite how popular the bar was. Julia had almost collapsed in tears as the two had spoken at the bar just an hour before, and so she had excused herself and run upstairs to "sort things out". The news had come like a blow to Max, had nearly knocked him on his ass, and so the Wizened had simply spent the better part of the last hour drinking in the back of the bar by the stage. It was this mind numbing shock that had led Max to simply miss the calls and texts he had received from his motley friends, Emma and Calliope. The bar wasn't officially open yet, and so the AC was off, leaving the room stagnant and sticky in the October heat.

He was about halfway through his third pint, his mind still reeling, when Creed the Domino of The Night Revelers practically stumbled through the double door entrance into The Speckled Feline. Though Max was a Night Reveler, he had never spent much time with the man, and often got the sense that Creed didn't like... or at best, didn't care about him. A mortal would perceive Creed as a man perhaps in his late thirties, with a curly crop of black hair, a heavy almost primitive brow and prominent lips. He was strong shouldered but wiry thin, with an unhealthy pallor and heavy lids that whispered of years of hard drug abuse. Seeing through his Mask, Creed's extreme features were simply magnified. His skin was so pale it was almost blue. His sinewy arms were long and almost simian, corded with thick veins the color of a week-old bruise. The jaundice of his eyes took on an almost preternatural yellow, like that of a black cat, and his ears were long and elfine. Despite these primitive features, and no longer how uncomfortable Creed made him, there was no denying that the man was an undoubtedly gifted poet, song writer and performer, and the few times Max had seen Creed up on stage with an acoustic guitar had left the young Changeling in tears.

After stumbling into the room, Creed's eyes locked with Max's, a scowl appearing on the Domino's face. His lips curled back as if to say you are not welcome here, and it was like the humid room was suddenly filled with electricity. Then Creed turned his back to Max, sat down at the bar, and with slurred words, ordered a drink.

The interaction was terribly confusing. Max was a regular at The Speckled Feline, not Creed, and though he had never felt much love from the Domino, he had never done anything to deserve such enmity. Something was up, something was maybe wrong. The question was simply, what would Max do about it?

************************************************** ************

Yeah, that lizard with the Kool-Aid. I have no idea how he found me. Gave me his card, asked me to call him if I found out anything about Reggie. But I'd like to give Reggie -- and you all -- the benefit of the doubt. If this is something bad enough to draw you into conflict with that, then--well, maybe it needs resolving and maybe you need friendship

"He's working for them, for the Freehold leaders," Sebastian manically blurts, barely managing to keep his voice at the level of a whisper. He wrings his hands together anxiously, before shaking his head.

But the Freehold leaders? Really? That's... well, I can't say I don't believe it, but it's a painful thing to accept." She sighs. "What are they doing? Is Reggie, or Tom, in danger now?"

Sebastian takes a deep sigh in and out, lifting a pint to his mouth to finish the last foamy third. Emma's contract was finally having an effect on the man, who was visibly softening. Having taken a moment to compose himself, he replies, "You are going to just have to believe me when I say things are bad, and that we are trying to do the right thing. I'll tell you what they are up to, but you have to swear to reserve judgement. We're trying to save others from being... well, I guess from being sacrificed!"

Spoiler: OOC:

Show

It's contested, so I rolled for Sebastian. Emma unsurprisingly won the roll. As for the loophole, it describes the character "professing" their friendship/love for the person they are healing, which I'm not sure Emma really did. I'll give it to you this time, but just for the next time Emma uses the contract.

[Haval]

The beer wasn't really helping. He was too angry. Perhaps Max could eventually be drunk enough tonight that he wouldn't have to think about any of this, but in the meantime he was still trying to work out what he was going to do about it. His first instinct was still to find out the landlord's address and pay them a visit. Everything that he had learnt over on the other side ought to be good for something.

Anyone who would raise someone's rent on such a flimsy pretext probably didn't give a **** about the bar they were destroying as a result. He assumed this landlord had some plans for the building. They were probably going to close it down and fill the space with apartments that were too expensive for any locals to actually afford to live in. Then there was Julia herself. Max knew how hard she had worked on this place. What the hell was she going to do instead? Would she have to leave New Orleans? He didn't even want to think about the possibility.

Seeing Creed in the Feline only made him feel worse. Normally Max would have given someone like him some space if he could. He didn't care about whatever the man's problem was but there was no point in upsetting people. On this occasion he really wasn't in the mood to deal with him. 'You having a bad day Creed?'

[Hemnon]

As Calliope moves with purpose through the crowded market, her eyes fall upon a small wooden sign that hangs over the gnarled brown door of a twisted wooden structure that looks like the cross of an old camping outhouse, and a fabled Witche's Hut. Painted on the sign is the image of a crystal ball with three stars inside it. A smokey incense can be picked up from outside of the shack, perhaps the smell of baking cookies? Gingerbread? If Calliope remembered correctly, this was the hut of the fabled elderly storyteller Wren Lamontaigne. Rumor had it that her captor had made her tell stories until she was hoarse, then tell more. The way heard it, she knew every story there was to tell and Changelings who needed information would often come to her with offerings of honey and tea to sooth her ragged throat in exchange for vital information.

Farther down the alleyway was a large makeshift stall painted with a sign reading "The Best Goblin Fruit Punch!" painted in bright red childish letters. The stall was absolutely surrounded by hobgoblins and Changelings alike. Some were perched around the bar drinking brightly colored beverages out of pint glasses, while others walked away from the bar; their drinks in red plastic go cups. Manning the bar was a giant and rotund blue skinned hobgoblin with bright yellow eyes and a Cheshire cat's grin. His finely tailored pink button down shirt was tucked into well used and severely stained white apron and three pairs of meaty arms worked steadily; dicing up goblin fruit, mixing cocktails in tall bronze shakers, and passing out drinks to the eager customers. Perhaps in his busy day, the bartender might be willing to make some extra coin by sharing all the gossip he heard from the massive throng of drunk customers.

Even farther down the road, a wiry figure stood in the entrance of a side alley. She had mottled yellow scaly skin and three almond colored eyes that crowded around a long pointed nose. Could this be the famous Changeling Fuxi, seller of illicit tokens and lost belongings? She casts furtive knowing glances to shoppers who passed by, every once in a while stepping out from the alley to whisper after a potential customer. Most pedestrians seemed to try to avoid this woman, though perhaps she had what Calliope was looking for.

************************************************** ************

Calliope would slowly make her way over towards Fuxi at that side alley entrance. She wasn't gonna deal with goblins until it's the last-choice.... what you buy from them may be information worth selling to others after all.
Sure a changeling could go do the same thing, but at least it wasn't the natural response as with goblins.

She would halt a little to the side of where Fuxi was trying to tug at the interest and attentions of passers-by, waiting for Fuxi to approach her, rather than the other way around. No need to make it obvious that you're looking for something from a specific person.

[Bennosuke]

Seeing Creed in the Feline only made him feel worse. Normally Max would have given someone like him some space if he could. He didn't care about whatever the man's problem was but there was no point in upsetting people. On this occasion he really wasn't in the mood to deal with him. 'You having a bad day Creed?'

The Domino turns in his seat, now with a beer in hand, his expression showing a mix of surprise and agitation. "Perhaps I am," Creed replies flatly in his low almost monotone voice. There was a hint of an accent, perhaps some variant of New Orleans, but perhaps it was more like something out of Brooklyn. Then a wry smile creeps up on Creed's round wormy lips, and he adds, "But it looks like you might be having a similar one." The smile spreads wide enough to show boxy yellow teeth, then with a nod of his head he offers for Max to sit down next to him and says, "Max... right?"

The bar was empty at this time of day, except for the bartender who seemed to know better than to show that he was paying any sort of attention to this interaction.

************************************************** ******************

It takes a few moments for the Changeling to notice Calliope, the hawker seeming to be busy scanning the crowd for potential targets. When she finally does catch Calliope's eye, she holds her grin as a leering smile exposes a mouth filled with needle like teeth. A forked moves across these teeth in a sign of perhaps predatory hunger.

Then Fuxi begins to walk towards Calliope with a graceful sort of hip swaying saunter. She's wearing a green and blue floral sundress, and in one hand holding an over-sized zipped up Louis Vuitton shoulder bag in cappuccino and silver print. "See something you like my dear," she asks, tilting her head to the side and staring directly into Calliope's with all three of her almond colored ones.

[Haval]

'That's right.' Max will take the seat if only to see what Creed wanted in here. 'My friend's having problems with her landlord. Because despite everything all that stuff is still something I have to worry about.' Max had to wonder if someone like Creed had the same problems anymore.

'Haven't seen you in here before. You looking for something because I'm a little busy at the moment.' He said that gesturing towards his pint.

[Bennosuke]

'That's right.' Max will take the seat if only to see what Creed wanted in here. 'My friend's having problems with her landlord. Because despite everything all that stuff is still something I have to worry about.' Max had to wonder if someone like Creed had the same problems anymore.

The statement produces a wry smile on Creed's lips. "Ya," he says flatly, "we unfortunately have to suffer the daggers of modernity, along with everything else." He stops to accept the two shots handed to him by the bartender. Once is an amber color, and smells strongly of whiskey, the second is a hazy white liquid that looks something like lemonade but smells much saltier. Creed pounds the two drinks, one after the next, and doesn't even pause to grimace.

'Haven't seen you in here before. You looking for something because I'm a little busy at the moment.' He said that gesturing towards his pint.

Creed's expression seems to harden a little at the question and he replies, "Just a drink. As I said, it's been a long ass day." He turns his expression from Max to try to get the bartender's attention again.

[JeenLeen]

Emma nods solemnly at the detail about Typhone. Something the over-the-top Fairest had already told her, but good to get confirmation.

She stiftens a moment at the word swear, for such can hold power in their circles and she isn't sure how formally he means it, but she forgets that at the idea of sacrifice. Wasn't she told doing such would break her grip on reality, as it was too close to how the True Fae treated them.

She breathes slowly and steadily for a few breathes, collecting herself.

"I will do my best to reserve judgement until I hear more, especially any against you or your motley, and against whoever you are working against if it is needful. I count Reggie as a friend, and I'd like to offer that to you and the rest, if this is something truly needing doing."

"What are Reggie and Tom doing now? And who are you trying to save?"

Spoiler

Show

Got you on the Loophole. I thought that was sufficient, but I see the detail you are pointing out. Even if not needed, more solidly fulfilling the loophole now.

[Haval]

Max will pause for a moment to drain his pint. To the barman, 'Give me some of whatever that is' he said pointing towards whatever Creed was drinking.

Maybe Creed would leave eventually, but Max is curious despite himself. 'Don't you have people to help you out with stuff. You want to talk about it?'

[Bennosuke]

Sebastian looks very hesitant at the question, leaning back in his chair and nervously wringing his hands in his lap. "Uh... well this is going to sound bad, but... well you see, they are um, kidnapping a man named Marv," he stutters and blurts his way through the explenation, but comes forward trying to cut Emma off by adding, "But he's a bad guy... he's one of the guys after us!"

This may have been just a little too loud, as a few nearby patrons turn to look at Emma and Sebastian.

(OOC: That does work better)

***********************************************

Creed leans across the bar to get the tender's attention and flatly says, "Get this man a pickle back man." The bartender turns his attention to the Changeling, and struggles to hold back an eye roll before pouring for Max the two different looking shots.

Max's question seems to draw annoyance from Creed, who returns to his seat and leaning forward scowls and says, "None of your business man"

(OOC: If max wants to get more information, he's going to need to make some sort of appropriate social roll to get the info out of Max. Negative modifier will be -4)