Snake stands there a moment after the place empties. Shrugging, he sits down, extends his legs, crosses his feet and his arms and looks around. "Finally, I can enjoy some peace and quiet in this place." He looks over his shoulder and catches sight of Lucky running toward him, up his legs on onto his shoulder where he finds a place to rest. Grinning, "I figured you weren't too far behind. Enjoy it, Luck, because this is probably the most peace any of us will experience in this town." He then looks around at the empty kitchen and sits there quietly.
Finally, after a minute or two, the tall man takes a deep breath and rises. "Well, time to jump back into this living nightmare. Good times." He reaches up to adjust his hat that's not there. "Oh yeah, I forgot." Shaking his head and giving a slight chuckle at himself, "I swear, story of my life." He then slowly and begrudgingly makes his way upstairs to where the fat man, the muscle, and most likely Her Majesty are waiting.
Taking in her reaction Phil speaks calmly "Take a couple score of coin for yourself for now... and think on whether there's anything else that'd make you feel more in control." Remembering also that he's a need to see Hassan on the morrow.
Assuming that Ethel is relatively calm Phillip lifts up her chin with a finger and lays a kiss upon her cheek "I'll be back when the words are spent..." winking and making to move back out to the kitchen as a marshalling point to wait for Marce.
"Be careful," she says wistfully when he bids her farewell. "If they take you into custody, send Marce here; I'm sure he'll handle the payoff to get you out."
"Thank you, Tendal. I understand you've a superior approach to the laying off of unwanted wares, and I thank you for it. But keep a tally, or even a sense, of it all. While nothing would ever stick to your fingers, some still might and ought find a path to your hand, and purse. Would not do to give until one regretted it, eh? Do let me know, if I might be a help to you."
"Trust me," the mage replies dryly, "I'm quite satisfied with my salary. A well-run business has just as promising a payout as a life of vigilanteism in the long run, in exchange for far less risk. Well," he considers, "in the case of Riddleport, at least marginally less risk. Now, I understand dinner is ready?" He ushers the pair out of his room and locks the door behind them.
As Snake rises to ascend the stairs, Thuvalia enters the kitchen on her way to the same destination. "Ah," she greets him, taking for granted the assumption that he has been waiting for her, "come along. We may proceed to the table now." She sweeps on to the staircase, expecting him to follow in her wake.
Lingering long enough to hear the door being locked behind him, Phillip moves into the kitchen. He doesn't look to food or liquor, instead retrieving a pair of coppers from his purse and beginning to make them dance to pass the time.
Taking a deep breath, Snake rolls his eyes and is unable to contain a wry grin. How anyone puts up with her I'll never know, he thinks as he finds himself watching her walk up the stairs before remembering he's suppose to be following. Gathering his wits about him, he immediately heads up the stairs behind her. Pay attention, slave boy! You're slacking! I swear, somehow Raccoon's gonna pay for this. Not real sure how this is his fault but at least it helps me by blaming him.
Lingering long enough to hear the door being locked behind him, Phillip moves into the kitchen. He doesn't look to food or liquor, instead retrieving a pair of coppers from his purse and beginning to make them dance to pass the time.
"Phillip...", Gristav greets. "Do you have time for dinner, or do you expect not? Braddon's with you, yes? Shall I leave you two plates, then? No, three?"
Gristav gathers or scatters the modules of the meal to suit any response, then begins taking the courses upstairs.
Thuvalia and Snake climb the stairs to the second floor and head for the dining room in Saul's suite. They find the room empty.
Thuvalia turns to Snake indignantly. "You said dinner was ready," she reproaches.
After depositing his items and gold in his room, Braddon makes his way back to the kitchen and finds Phillip.
"There's time to eat before we go, right?"
He grabs some of the food and prepares to head upstairs.
Smiling wanly at Braddon, Phillip bids "Go, eat... quickly. I'll not be joining... and no need to save a plate."
Sighing again, "I'll go get it," he says, doing his best to hide the frustration in his voice. Where's the damn waiters in this place?! What, did the fat man just magic his food to himself in the past?! Retracing his steps back downstairs and to the kitchen, he catches sight of Braddon and Phillip. Not saying a word, he stays on the task at hand and gathers what food he can and heads back upstairs. Repeating said task until he's managed to get all the food upstairs.
Between the three of them, Braddon, Gristav, and Snake carry the various dishes of the dinner upstairs to the dining room, where Thuvalia remains imperiously seated to await them. Tendal arrives and frowns to see that she is the only one already there. "Where is Mr. Vankaskerkin?" he asks.
Braddon places most of his plates at the end of the table furthest from Thuvalia, sits down amongst them and begins to feast.
Leaning back against a wall with his arms crossed, Snake looks over at Tendal and simply shrugs. "No idea. I thought he was up here initially. Probably in his office," he responds before attempting to stifle a yawn.
"Too much of that. Or too little otherwise, more exactly. Not that I'm empowered to judge...", Gristav allowed, portioning provender onto two plates. "But I might be empowered to remedy."
Gristav takes the readied plates to Saul's office.
Braddon places most of his plates at the end of the table furthest from Thuvalia, sits down amongst them and begins to feast.
Thuvalia turns a pointed gaze on Snake, drawing his attention to the distance between her place at the table and the serving platters.
Gristav fills a pair of plates for Saul and his bodyguard, then knocks at the office door.
"What is it?" Saul's voice answers gruffly from the other side.
"Plates here, if you want them. Or, by the door? Or with company, in the dining room?", Gristav suggests.
Noticing the steely gaze by the most demanding woman EVER, he takes a deep breath to calm himself and retrieves the serving platters, moving them down to where she is seated.
"Plates here, if you want them. Or, by the door? Or with company, in the dining room?", Gristav suggests.
Bojasc opens the door. Inside at his desk, Saul doesn't look up. "Not hungry," he grunts. "But go on and have dinner if you want, Bojasc. I'll just be in here."
"Come on, boss," Bojasc inveigles with what he no doubt imagines is an appealing grin. "You got to keep up your strength. We'll eat at your desk."
Saul grumbles a grudging concession, and Bojasc accepts the plates from Gristav.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Phillip watches Braddon, Gristav, and Snake carry the dinner upstairs; then he is left alone to await Marce's return.
Thankful for a moment's peace, Phillip uses the time to center himself. Putting away the coins for now, he checks over his person - confirming that his blades could be easily drawn, and hand lingering on his holy symbol for a few long moments. Running a hand through his tousled hair and then smoothing his mustache, he feels the pang of growing hunger beginning to gnaw and chew away at his stomach. Unperturbed, he welcomes the feeling - using the discomfit to both sharpen his focus as well as remind himself of what's at stake.
From the door, Gristav advises. "Saul. Even with you trustworthy, this is still Riddleport. Should you assume everyone else is?"
Gris leaves, returning to the dining room.
Tendal frowns, picks up his own plate, and joins Saul and Bojasc in the owner's office, leaving Braddon, Snake, and Thuvalia alone at the table. The seven unused chairs around the table underscore the missing: Saul, Bojasc, and Tendal may be only in the next room, and Phillip downstairs, but the whereabouts of Larur, Malkith, and Daynadrian is presently unknown. And, of course, while Samaritha is following her dream at the Cypherlodge, her absence is palpable.
Whether Braddon consciously registers any of this is in question, as he focuses on eating as much dinner as he can before Phillip calls him away from the table.
--------------------------------
Downstairs, in the kitchen, Phillip hears a knock at the back door.
With a deep breath, Phil moves to the door pausing for an inquisitorial "Who is it?"
Assuming it is Marce that identifies himself and that there is no reason for pause in his voice, Phillip sees the door opened and waits for the Lord Mayor to pour forth words.
Tendal frowns, picks up his own plate, and joins Saul and Bojasc in the owner's office, leaving Braddon, Snake, and Thuvalia alone at the table. The seven unused chairs around the table underscore the missing: Saul, Bojasc, and Tendal may be only in the next room, and Phillip downstairs, but the whereabouts of Larur, Malkith, and Daynadrian is presently unknown. And, of course, while Samaritha is following her dream at the Cypherlodge, her absence is palpable.
Whether Braddon consciously registers any of this is in question, as he focuses on eating as much dinner as he can before Phillip calls him away from the table.
"Well, this is cozy. Room enough to dance, but for the table. And the light of a lady, to fill the room." Gristav made for himself some pemmicanned toast, and reflected on the diminished density of diners. One could almost imagine an echo. "But, I miss my friend, our companion, our compatriot...", he said, the last more toward Braddon, "Both, compatriots."
Lifting the toast almost as a chalice, Gristav intoned, "To those absent, yet present, in our hearts. We've all lost, recently.", he said, saddening, again, more toward Braddon. "Here, to the hope, we've also gained."
Rolling his eyes, Snake doesn't say a word as he takes a seat. Not really hungry, he remains silent.
Phillip sees the door opened and waits for the Lord Mayor to pour forth words.
Marce steps just inside the hallway, seeming disinclined to tarry. "Meeting's set at the Publican. Are you ready to go?"
Lifting the toast almost as a chalice, Gristav intoned, "To those absent, yet present, in our hearts. We've all lost, recently.", he said, saddening, again, more toward Braddon. "Here, to the hope, we've also gained."
Braddon raises his cup, then takes a drink to hide his smirk as the thought of absent red heads comes to mind.
Phillip gives a short nod before adding, just let me get the alibi. He then moves to a spot within easy shouting distance of the dining room and bellows "Braddon... time to go" pausing until he gets some kind of affirmation in reply, before rejoining Marce in the kitchen.
Braddon quaffs the last of his drink and rises.
"Work, work, work," he admonishes grabbing a few choce bites from the plates as he makes his way downstairs.
"COMING!!"
Braddon arrives in the kitchen soon, fully equipped, with swords and daggers arrayed about him.
"Too much?" he asks following Phillip out the door.
With a small smirk Phillip shakes his head "Never... but with any luck it'll just be words."
As Braddon takes his leave, Tendal walks back out of Saul's office looking distinctly annoyed. "I had thought," he addresses Gristav, "you might listen to reason and refrain from bandying about wild accusations."
Downstairs, Braddon and Phillip join Marce in the back hallway; he gives Braddon a nod and then leads them out the door. "They are supposed to be two men," he informs them quietly, "but I wouldn't be surprised if they sent more, under cover of 'just having a drink.' Croat won't want trouble with Arnando so they won't try anything in the Publican, but if things don't go well, I'd watch your back when you leave."
The trio walk up to the crowd of aspiring river-crossers waiting on the eastern ferry dock and join the queue.
"Well, I can wait outside. I wouldn't want 'Lalie mopping blood off those floors," Braddon offers thoughtfully.
Snake leans back in his chair as Tendal comes at Gristav verbally. Well, this ought to be interesting. He then looks over at Gristav, Nope. I was wrong. It's just gonna be long winded. He then turns his attention to Thuvalia and looks at her a moment before turning back away and placing his hands behind his head and leaning back. If I say anything, she'll want something for sure.
Phillip furrows his brow and smooths his mustache at Marce's words "Aye, to be expected... but I'll need you with me Braddon. I've a thought or two for handling any crowd that's there, but lets not show our hands until it's needed." stretching out his arms and fingers.
"You looking to deliver and move or stay on for the talk?" he queries of Marce.
"Two men to each side," Marce smirks at Phil, "but I might just find myself in a thirsty mood while we're there and stick around for a drink or two. I'll let Arnando know what's going on. He's more attentive when he knows there's factions using the bar for negotiations."
The flatboat arrives, and the crowd parts to let the few passengers heading to the unglamorous side of the river disembark before they flood onto the ferry for the crossing.
As Braddon takes his leave, Tendal walks back out of Saul's office looking distinctly annoyed. "I had thought," he addresses Gristav, "you might listen to reason and refrain from bandying about wild accusations."
"I hadn't. He's heated at Larur's own suspicion, imagining me as whispering Wyrmtongue, when it was, to wit, one word. The wild has remained unspoken, and unspoken of, until you, just now."
"Apparently, I was meant to be more faithful of the stranger of the week, than of the friend of years. I'll agree, it was a failure, but I do not feel it, a fault."
Gristav, long of lonely roads, does not neglect the food before him, however worried sparse his appetite. Between bites, he asks, "Did you know, Bojasc can speak?"
"It would follow, he might whisper."
Braddon hovers near Phil, eyes attentive in all directions but saying naught.
"Did you know, Bojasc can speak?"
"It would follow, he might whisper."
Tendal quirks an eyebrow. "Whisper what, exactly?" He seems less disinclined to believe ill of the man than of the master.
Keeping near to Braddon and using the height of the half-elf to ease the bustle onto the ferry Phillip affirms "Aye, fairly done..." thinking for a few moments before retrieving a handful of yellow coinage. Offering it to Marce he suggests "Contingency if you're willing... if I spill my drink you get Arnando to open his taps for free-flow ale. Would help pick out any boys Croat have in the audience as well as making for a bit more chaos to escape through if we need... which I'm relatively confident we won't... but still..."
Tendal quirks an eyebrow. "Whisper what, exactly?" He seems less disinclined to believe ill of the man than of the master."Did you know, Bojasc can speak?"
"It would follow, he might whisper."
"Whatever banked and oiled these two beacons for one spark? Unless one supposes that I am so charming I can set such a blaze with a whisper?" Glancing at the lady, Gristav smiles. "Thuvalia is suppressing a laugh, even now.", he teased himself.
"When a rational man behaves irrationally, try to imagine a circumstance wherein he sees himself as rational. When two such men wax irate, look for a circumstance in common. Not me. Perhaps, you. Or, Bojasc."
"Or perhaps, just the odd events of late, pressures of the day."
Tendal's expression shifts back to his usual setting of urbane boredom. "More vague accusations? You're flailing about randomly looking for a villain, when you haven't even any evidence anything untoward is afoot. Why not blame our charming dinner companion?" He casts a gaze toward Thuvalia. "She has, after all, been a secret conspirator before. No offense," he adds, entirely unconvincingly.
Thuvalia returns a derisive moue for his insinuation.
thinking for a few moments before retrieving a handful of yellow coinage. Offering it to Marce he suggests "Contingency if you're willing... if I spill my drink you get Arnando to open his taps for free-flow ale. Would help pick out any boys Croat have in the audience as well as making for a bit more chaos to escape through if we need... which I'm relatively confident we won't... but still..."
Marce quickly repositions himself to shield the lucre from the eyes of the other passengers filing off the ferry. "You ought to be careful displaying full pockets," he chastises Phil good-naturedly, "especially so near the river. One 'accidental' jostle, and you're in the drink while your coin goes home in another man's pouch."
Once they're safely on the western riverbank and have put some distance between themselves and the majority of the passengers heading north to Free-Coin, Marce accepts the transfer of coin. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Boss Croat has a reputation of being concerned more about profit than justice ... as long as you don't insult his honor. That's worth more to him than profit." The trio make their way down the dark road among the abandoned buildings of River District.
Phillip takes the ribbing words gamely before nodding to Marce's opinion of Croat once upon dry land again. "Aye, I'd hoped that was the case.... and trust that I won't be looking for buttons to push and raise ire."
Tendal's expression shifts back to his usual setting of urbane boredom. "More vague accusations? You're flailing about randomly looking for a villain, when you haven't even any evidence anything untoward is afoot. Why not blame our charming dinner companion?" He casts a gaze toward Thuvalia. "She has, after all, been a secret conspirator before. No offense," he adds, entirely unconvincingly.
Thuvalia returns a derisive moue for his insinuation.
"May I take offense on your behalf?", Gristav volunteers to Thuvalia, before turning toward Tendal. "You'll taunt the girl, with established, regretted truth, and think that clever. Well, pardon, but no bravo. A culprit, delivered by others, confessed by herself, and soundly chastened, by the superior, milord Deverin."
"And you'll mock me. There are many sorts of evidence. And piecing eggshell together is not flailing randomly. Oh, eggshells are what the better part of your omelets are... shipped in. Some few of us become familiar with how things are done, when we can no longer expect others to deliver plots, or meals, fully formed. Those of us who put a meal, or a show, or a plot, together. You know, so superior folk can take comfort, and profit, and credit."
"And then mock us."
Tendal sighs theatrically. "If you insist on painting everyone you work with as your enemy," he advises Gristav, getting to his feet, "you're going to find yourself alone in a town in which allies come in handy more often than not. Try not assuming everyone's plotting against you." He departs the dining room.