Manius groggily enters the common room, his face applied for that day. Last night went a big hazy towards the end, the wine had been a bit stronger than he'd counted on. He vaguely remembered something about a plan and the arrival of another stranger, this one unnaturally handsome and with some connection to Em. Uuuugh, what did they put in the wine.
As he nurses his forehead he gives looks at each of his companions. "Alright, friends, what's the itinerary? Breakfast, butcher's, hopefully not battle, blissful release of sleep? Urgh."
He then frowns as a thought occurs.
"Wait... where's Garvid?"
Silvio yawns and picks up the letter on the table. "Hey, what's this?" He reads it over. "Looks like Em went back to the Church. She says to carry on without her and she'll meet back up with us later."
Silvio glances at Orcsson, taking a bite of pear that had been set out for breakfast. "I dunno, did you see Garvid come back last night?" He licks some of the juice off his hand. "I think Marial and I were going to scout of the butcher shop today."
Scoutin' was the plan 's far as I'm aware, Mouse answers around a mouthful of fruit and cheese. Secretly, she's almost glad Em was called away; watchers from outside could only do so much to help if something went wrong inside, and Mouse was loath to put anyone in danger that didn't have to be. We'll be fine. Sil c'n do the talkin', an' we'll get through it great, she reassures herself, though she's unsure how well it's working. I ain't seen Garvid, neither, an' still no sign o'Cal...what say we wait an hour or two more, just t'give 'em time t'get in. Whoever ain't here by noon time, we'll go without 'em.
Garvid's bulky figure climbs out from the basement, stretching his shoulder and pushing back a yawn. "Morning, kids. Word of advice, don't grow old. Headaches are a b@$*& after your third decade.", he says, giving Orcsson a wink. He sits on the table and scoops a massive serving of food, stuffing slices of cheese and meat between two slices of bread. "So,", he says between bites, nodding towards Shevan, "Who are you?", he asks, eyebrows held together suspiciously. "Today we're heading to the place, huh? What are you thinking about?", he continues, turning his attention to Mouse.
Thinkin' about? Mouse answers with a playful grin. Teron the ghost that keeps comin' back, how I gone from nothin' t'bein' rich in three days' time...meetin' the prettiest man...angel...guy I ever seen in my life... I'm thinkin' 'bout how I c'n make sure t'get some o'the action this time. Seems t'me last time y'all got to have all the fun while I was goin' fer a nice swim. How 'bout you? Seems t'me ain't much business happenin' middle o'the night - must've been some pretty satisfyin' deals bein' made, y'catch my drift. With a wink, she takes another bite of toasted bread and washes it down with thick, creamy milk.
A chuckle comes from Garvid's bacon filled mouth. "If you think there isn't anything interesting in the middle of the night, kid, you've lived in another Korvosa for a long time.", he answers, stuffing half the remaining slice in his face. After chewing it down, he leans back on the chair. "So did you decide how we're going to that scum? Getting them on a mission or just joining them?" He drums his fingers on the table. "I'd suggest hiring them. Bar me and Orcsson, just because he's a mean green killing machine, we don't really look their sort of material." He grins. "Even though I doubt any of them has punched any sharks or crocodiles."
For now, the plan's for me an' Sil t'go up askin' for food. Wouldn't y'know it, we pass pretty well for starvin' orphans. Mouse smiles at the attempted joke. Hopefully that'll give us a chance t'get inside an' look 'round a bit. You 'n Orcsson'll be watchin' from outside; if y'see this come out one o'the windows, somethin's gone bad.
She pulls her ioun torch out of her belt pouch, showing it to Garvid, its flame twinkling merrily in her hand. 'Less you got a better idea for how t'make a loud noise or light that you guys'll notice - if y'do got a better idea, I'm all ears. We ain't planning on bein' in more than a half hour; if we're in longer, you guys try t'talk your way in, an' push in if y'cant, 'cause somethin's likely gone wrong.
"Oh stop, Garvid, you'll make me blush," Manius jokes between large bites of breakfast. "We should be fine. I can talk my way in, and Garvid can certainly give them a good push." He mimes pushing one hand with the other, giving the pushed hand an exaggerated fly through the air followed by a bang.
Silvio chuckles. "Yeah, I can do a starving orphan pretty good. We'll need you to hold our stuff though. Ain't no orphans coming in with armor or alchemy. We might need to find some dirt and mud, Marial. We've been spoiled the past few days with baths."
Mouse snickers in reply. You're right there. I don't think I ever smelled so good before. Think I oughta go for a swim with that shark again? Or go runnin' laps 'round the walls t'get all good an' sweaty? Subconsciously, her hand travels to her hair; it was finally soft and shiny for once, instead of all grimy...sigh.
So we wanna get goin'? Daylight's startin' t'waste, an' we know Em's off with the Church. Ain't seen no sign o'Cal, but I s'pose it can't be helped. She slowly curls her hands into fists one at a time, then takes a couple of test swings at the empty air with her elbow and knees. Y'think there's any chance o'me bein' able t'sneak a chain shirt under my clothes? Maybe with a heavy coat or somethin'? Won't if it'll be too obvious, but may be best t'keep somethin' between me an' any surprises.
Garvid stops eating and takes a swig from his mug. "I try not to be excessive, but sometimes people are way too fragile...", he nods at Orcsson. "We'll get your stuff. Nothing suspicious about us two sitting around a bag full of explosives and poisons, after all.", he says, smiling.
He then nods quietly, listening to Mouse. "See, I get what you mean. Then again, it's a compromise between cover and safety. Depends on whether you think they will believe you, or you think swings are going to start flying as soon as you open your mouth.", he says, taking another sip. "Can't really help you with that. I can hide a dagger, but I can't make a disguise. Can't pass as a helpless villager anyway.", he smiles, pointing towards the many small scars surrounding his broken nose.
Silvio shakes his head. "I wouldn't, Marial. If you don't hide it right, they'll spot it easily. We can bring a dagger maybe, but anything more will stick out like a sore thumb. If something happens, we ought to be running, not fighting."
S'pose you guys're right. I ain't needin' t'sneak no dagger or nothin' in, lucky enough - hands, elbows, 'n knees've always done good enough for me. They ain't called me Redfist for nothin', right, Sil? But I was hopin' I'd be able t'keep a little somethin' 'tween me and surprises, in case somethin' went wrong. S'pose not; that's fine.
I c'n just leave my bag an' chain shirt an' shield in here - ain't nothin' that'll make no difference sittin' outside the buildin' 'stead o' in here. Despite her words, her glances toward the room where her bag rests betray her reluctance to leave anything behind, though she knows it's best; years of temporary living situations had left her nervous about trusting her things wouldn't be tampered with.
Silvio pops the rest of a piece of bread into his mouth. "Ok, let's get going, Marial. It'll take us a little bit to get there and we need to run our clothes through some dirt at least. We go in looking like we met the queen and they'll be on us faster than an orphan on candy."
Way ahead of ya, Marial grins in reply, pulling out her old tunic (shark-tooth marks still evident). She begins to dig a finger into one of the holes to join it with the others and make the damage look less like a bite, then pushes in around the base of a potted tree in the corner, digging the tunic into the dirt. She holds it up to present to the others. Look 'bout right?
She rubs her hand over the small braids in her hair to rough them up some, then takes a handful of dust and rubs it over her face and hands. After ducking into her room, she re-emerges looking thoroughly roughed-up again and departs with Silvio.
Garvid rubs his hands in his trousers, and turns towards Orcsson. "Alright. You lead on. Truth be told, half the time guards are only told apart from criminals, because they carry a badge." And the other half even that doesn't tell them apart, he adds in his head.
Standing up from the table, he puts his sword on his hip. Might as well get used to it. Halberd shouts 'guard' louder than half the new recruits. Just when I got my new one..., he thinks, checking the blade's edge. "You just showing up as is, Orcsson? Or are you going to treat us to some crazy persona?", a small smile on his lips.