Mao put a large and rusted copper mug and a bottle on the table with one of his big three-fingered hands, while carrying a steaming coffee pan on the other. He poured the hot coffee on his mug before dropping himself on his old armchair... there were other chairs around him but none of them could possibly bear his weight. He then grabbed the bottle, filled with cheap whiskey, and poured a pretty good amount of it on his mug, stopping for a couple seconds and then pouring some more. Once he was pleased, he grabbed the hot mug and drank its content slowly.
"SO..." he looked at the others, "DO WE HAVE SOMETHING TO DO TONIGHT, OR NOTHING AT ALL? ANY CREAVER IDEAS? ANY NEW JOB?" After a couple more gulps, Mao reached for his cigar.
Mao was huge, big even for trollkin standards, and he was loud... presumably incapable of speaking in a low tone. His skin was of a blue-grey color and his quills were of dark color. Not young anymore, Mao had already many calcified growths on his chin, shoulders and elbows. On his left arm there are many round burn marks from his cigar... one for each man he had killed. There were more than two dozen marks on his arm, and there was still room for many more.
A tall pale man walks in. He wears armor that nearly doubles his size. It is the color of graphite. The integrated greatcoat is high quality leather and well oiled. The armor bears arcane symbols giving it away as a telltale mechanikal suit. The sword slung on his waist is similarly engraved with mechanikal runes. A small trail of grey smoke and steam trails out of a small valve on his back.
"I heard you bellowing all the way down the street. But no, I don't have any ideas, and I imagine the rest of the city block only has plans to get rid of you. Hah! Cephas says, pulling out 6 clanking bottles of alcohol and setting them on the bar in the corner of the main room. He uncorks one and leans on the bar, not yet ready to sit down, and takes a swig.
Mao smiles at Cephas' comment, "I WAS NOT 'BELLOWING'... AND THE NEIGHBORS LOVE ME! " the trollkin heard the sound of a glass shattering on the ground and soon after a heavier sound following the first... probably Clarence, the neighbor above. What followed was a profusion of curses, "SEE? HE LOVES ME... WHAT HE DON'T REALLY LIKE IS THE SMOKED SMELL YOU LEAVE ON HIS WHOLE APARTMENT..." the giant points to the smoke accumulating on the roof, before sending a smaller cloud from his cigar to join the darker cloud.
Arthur sits and cleans, making sure his pistol is as clean as it can be and trying in vain to get the various stains out of his coat and hat. While corruption lurks beneath Corvis, the things he got on his coat... well probably best not to examine them too closely.
"Easy Mao, don't want to put off the clientele." Arthur speaks with a tongue educated by old nobility, though his manner is more of someone used to living rough.
"Bah, it smells wonderful, the mix of snoking hot grease and black powder. Smells like progress. Add to that some smoky whiskey, and you've got heaven on Caen. Anyway, the window's open so it ain't that bad."
Mao shrugs and smiles at Arthur, "I'M NOT PUTTING OF THE CRIENTELE... I'M GUIDING THEM! WHAT IF THERE IS SOME JOB FOR US OUT THERE, BUT OUR STEEMED CRIENT IS HAVING DIFFICULTIES TO FIND OUR OFFICE?"
"NEVERTHELESS, I'M GETTING A BIT RESTRESS HERE..." Mao moves to the sink and spits a thick gob from his throat that was bothering him.
Milo chuckles at the trollkin's antics.
"Why in such a good mood this evening my friend? Did someone find a new friend to play with...hmmm?"
The older human laughs and sits down at a table where a number of small tools are laid out. He takes a small tin of wax and begins to go over each item lovingly, making sure they are well protected from the damp weather.
"I could always, you know, find something interesting for us to do. I know a few people who would love to hire us for..errmm..work!"
It is an old argument, and Milo is only half serious. Since going legit, he has tried to stay away from such people, but his reputation sometimes proceeds him, and he and Mao did make a very good team in the old days.
A man in Menite priestly robes enter, "Greetings, gentlemen. May the Lawgiver bless and inspire you. Pray, what's the cause of all this excitement?"
Father Alpharius appears to be unarmed but your experience with him tells you that he hides a springblade and a pistol on his person.
"We have a 'client,' I presume."
"NAH, THIS IS THE PROBREM... WE DON'T HAVE ANY NEW CRIENT, PRIEST..." to Milo, he shook his head, "AND I'M NOT IN A GOOD MOOD, QUITE THE OPPOSITE... I'VE ALREADY SAID IT TO YA, MILO, YA'RE GONNA GET KILLED SOMEDAY BY THINKING A TROLLKIN IS HAPPY WHEN HE ACTUALLY WANTS TO RIP YOU IN HALF... YA NEED TO KNOW HOW TO READ BETTER OUR FACIAL EXPRESSIONS."
"You are correct. Your face is quite hard to read."
Father Alpharius looks for a newspaper if there's any in the room.
Milo smiles at his big friend and nods.
"Your right of course..but it just so hard to tell when you are frowning in happiness or anger!"
He jokes with his friend but he too is wondering were their next pay will come.
"It's been a few weeks since our last employment. I hope something comes along soon or we will have to give all this splendor up!" he says gesturing around the crampted, almost empty room.
Cephas chuckles at all the dry wit flying about, adding nothing and contemplating quietly.
Arthur half-smiles, "I was always taught that a Trollkin was most happy when he was about to rip you in half - so I can see how it'd be confusing."
Father Alpharius smiles at such levity.