Blades in the Dark (GM Sarah)

Game Master Sarah 'queen' B.

The thin trace appears from the bottle, glowing brightly for a moment before winking out into a line that only Jonah can see, although the whisper may not realise that it's now invisible to the others. Unfortunately, what he's not taken into account is the warding on the building - all houses and dwellings have some level of protection against ghosts, but places where strong emotions or other feelings are particularly prevalent need a greater level of warding against emanations from the Ghost Field.

Jonah swiftly tamps down on the connection, an action born of reflex and hard-won experience, keeping the tether intact while preventing any alarms from going off; but he's unable to prevent a searing *jolt* of electroplasm that flickers out from the bottle and earths itself in all of you, leaving hair frizzled and an unpleasant pins-and-needles tingling in the extremities.

By the time they're out of the alcove Ranna's also glaring at Casia, albeit for a different reason. "His ribs are healing, not healed," she hisses. "Next time shove someone else in first so he has a softer landing." The absurdity of the demand catches up with her and abruptly she has to stifle a giggle. "Although hopefully there won't be a next time."

Casia rolls her eyes, but can't help match Ranna's giggle with a smirk of her own. "Then let me know whether you prefer him on your front or on your back the next time and I'll try to make it happen." Her cheeks redden at her own boldness.

---

"Aiiee! F%+&, that stings!" Casia blurts out when Jonah's magical gizmo bites back. She claps her hand over her own mouth, annoyed with herself for possibly bringing attention.

As the magical effect quickly fades away, Casia waits for him to indicate which way they should go before realizing that he's looking at her to lead the way. She raises her eyebrows and her shoulders in a shrug.

"I can't see the damn thing, Jonah. Which way?" Following a quick gesture from the whisper, she moves forward.

The next few minutes consist of her constantly checking with Jonah when there are choices in their path and her carefully herding the group past alcoves from which the sounds of pleasure emanate.

Ranna looks around in confusion. Where were Casia and Luce? Hadn't she been following along right behind them?

On the one hand, being in pairs might make it easier to sneak around. They'd still have to duck into alcoves anytime someone passed by, but that's normal behavior in a place like this. On the other, they only have one tracker and it's currently in Jonah's hands. "Damn. We have to find them." Which shouldn't be too hard. They couldn't be more than a few minutes ahead. Right?

"Whose idea was it to place all these bloody mirrors around?!"

As irritating as it is constantly seeing her own face gives her an idea. She can't do much about her height or her gear, but she can at least hide her Skovlander-blonde hair. It's far too hot for a cloak, but if takes that cloak and wraps it around her head like a scarf...

She looks into the next mirror with a satisfied nod. Anyone who looks close will see she doesn't belong, but from a distance or out of the corner of someone's eye? She just might pass. Right now she'll take any edge she can get.

Jonah didn't like mirrors. Too many gateways, conjurations, and menacing entities inhabited the danged things. He also hated the way his pale skin was reflected in the uncaring glass. But most of all, it was the other reflections that stared back at him when he happened to be attuned to the ghost field when a mirror was around. Which he very much is as he and Ranna continue to follow the aetheric thread through this maze of debauchery.

It is when Ranna stops to check her appearance in one of the mirrors that he make the mistake of looking directly into the silvered glass. He can't help but stare. Through his eyes, Ranna's reflection bleeds from her palms. Blood on her hands? He wonders. Crimson tears run in a steady stream down the healer's cheeks. He doesn't know why.

But the other reflection he knows all too well. His own in some laughable sense. Frail. One might call it ancient with hunched back and scrawny shoulders. Frazzled tufts of grayish hair float in a ever present wind. He is entirely weighed down by chains. Thick iron beasts that rattle and dig into his pale flesh. Each long length is linked back to a body dragging along the floor. Hundreds of dead eyes and rictus grins mock and accuse. All faces of those who'd died through his own actions. Hutton is now foremost among them. The newest to join the grizzly cadre of corpses carried upon his shoulders.

Stifling a gasp he quickly averts his eyes from the mirror and starts to shuffle forward.

"Best we keep moving." He whispers hoarsely to Ranna once she's done. His face is pale and drawn, the flesh on his neck beating rapidly. But the situation doesn't lend itself to questions or answers.

Instead, he just does his best to keep track of the twists and turns through the maze. To help he grabs a piece of simple yellow chalk from his arcane implements and surreptitiously marks a corner here the bottom of a mirror there. Never the same symbol twice, but each one used often enough by the Dusk Mites in their endeavors to be recognized by Cas or Luce. And each conveying enough information in their own shadow-code to help them find their way through the maze.

Ranna glances at Casia and sees her in another time, another place, gleefully stabbing Hutton to death. She has to look away. Mirrors lie. She keeps telling herself that, over and over.

Do they lie? Harold had said it was the Dusk Mites that killed Asta and burned down the Arch. That was a real memory, not a mirror vision. Her fists start to clench again and she has to force herself to relax. Maybe there was an innocent explanation. Asta had inherited her father's violent temper; maybe it had been self-defense.

Self-defense in Grinder territory? Self defense that required burning down a casino with innocent people inside?

She needs to stop thinking about this. Luckily the steel door in front of them looks like it will provide a suitable distraction, given that the actual lock has been covered by a thick steel plate. You could get your hand inside enough to turn a key, but it would be hard if not impossible to manage the delicate movements necessary to pick the lock.

The lock plate is welded to the door. Impossible to remove by normal means. But Ranna is a Leech and that means she has quite a few abnormal means on her person. "I'm guessing you don't have the key?" She can look at Luce. Luce joined after Ranna herself did; there's no way she had anything to do with the Grinders.

Are you sure?

Shut. UP.

Luce barely has time to shake her head before Ranna's moving forward and yanking two vials out of her pocket. Inside is an innocuously clear liquid. "Stand back," is all Ranna says before pouring some of the liquid onto the lock plate. The metal immediately begins to bubble and hiss as the acid eats its way through.

Ranna is upset. Ranna is distracted. However Ranna has worked under worse conditions and for worse people. If she couldn't compartmentalize her emotions and get the job done anyway, she would have died in the war. The acid eats away precisely at the weak spots where the plate had been welded to the door. The other vial gets poured onto the other side, and a minute later the metal has been weakened enough that a good twist pulls the plate off entirely.

The actual lock is now exposed and ready to be picked. Ranna steps back and (still without looking at Casia) gestures to the door. "You're up."

Jonah studied Luce's blueprints of the door. He compares what was drawn on the page with what existed in reality in the dank smelling underground storage area. Nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, he wasn't really looking for anything ordinary. So the whisper slips on his spirit mask.

But even through the aethereal gaze of the mask he sees nothing. Nothing until Hutton's laughing, mocking face appears front and center on the surface of the heavy door. The Grinder kingpin's ugly features grin wickedly at Ranna approaching the door. None of the others seem to see anything. Just Jonah.

Ranna's voice is oddly flat and distant when she says something to Luce. Probably just the effect of the mask. Jonah thinks to distracted by the visage on the door. What he can't understand is how or why it is here. Then Hutton's laughter ends in a gunshot. Instead of the Grinder, Lolo is there. Her look of surprise and regret filling the flat iron surface. Her eyes partially shrouded by smoke from her pistol as Hutton's daughter slumps back against the wall, slowly sliding to the floor. One look, and Jonah knows there is no saving the girl.

Blood flows from her lips and hatred burns in her eyes. Eyes that suddenly belong to Fiona, Lolo's daughter, he could only hope the girl was safe with her mother. He glances back at the door only to find Naty staring back at him. Then Daria. The young Skov girl in her wedding frock. Eyes that accuse and blame. Eyes that demand retribution, justice, blood for blood.

He rips the mask from his face. Staggers back a few steps, suddenly dizzy as his racing heart tries to pound its way out of his chest. His breathing is rapid, on the verge of panic. His usual composure in the face of the ghost field and its trickery slipping through his fingers like butcher's blood. It wasn't our fault! His mind screams. She didn't mean to do it. It...it was an accident.

"No key, but I do have these." Luce says, extracting a tightly rolled piece of paper from a pocket in the side of her extremely practical trousers. Unrolled it proves to be the blueprints for this exact door, including a detailed diagram of the locking mechanism.

"Take a look at these." She says, showing them to Casia. "They should help."

She has nothing to contribute to the horrendously skilled jobs going on, so she turns to watch with Jonah. When the man starts weaving drunkenly and then rips the mask from his face she knows exactly what to do. She steps in front of the man and slaps him hard in the face.

"Snap back soldier. We need you here." She commands and there is a note of steel in her voice.

Casia accepts the papers with evident surprise. Flipping through them a grin spreads across her face. "Yeah, with these this should be easier than falling off a pier."

Pulling a leather case from her bag, she kneels down near the lock and sets to work. Her concentration is broken by the sound of flesh impacting flesh and she looks up in surprise. Seeing Luce facing off against Jonah, she's about to rise to his defense when she notices his expression.

He can take care of himself.

Returning her focus to the task at hand, she's rewarded with a subtle click. A little more satisfied with herself than she should be, she takes her time returning her tools to their container before rising to stand dramatically before the door. With a grand gesture she pulls the main level back and is internally relieved to feel the latch open.

"Ladies and Gentleman ..." she declares before pulling on the door, itself.

*smack*

Luce's blow snaps Jonah's face to the side. The blow is just enough and just in time. The ghostly visions disappear leaving behind the telltale glow of yet another alarm. There is no time to disable the aetheric connections as the click of the lock tumbling into place is already an echoing memory.

A quick burst of energy when Casia starts to swing the door open is the only warning Jonah has. With reactions born out of war, instinct and survival he slams every ounce of focus and will into racing the trigger back to its source. Successfully spotting the little silver chime that know doubt was enchanted to ring loud as a multitude of temple bells, Jonah quickly snips the aetheric link and watches with relief as the magic of the alarm simply shorts out with nary a sound.

Bringing his hand up to rub his cheek, he gives Luce a quick nod of thanks before turning to see what and how much Kohana had managed to stash away.

A few minutes pass uncomfortably slowly while Jonah wrestles with the arcane wards, putting into stark contrast Casia and Ranna's seeming effortlessness in dismantling the lockplate and bypassing the lock mechanism. Eventually however, the Whisper nods to Luce and the heavy steel door swings open to reveal the stash beyond.

Kohanna's apothecarium is, like every Leech's private space, arranged in idiosyncratic fashion with minimal labelling in a private shorthand; although some things (bandages, wraps, gauze, etc) are immediately identifiable even to an amateur. The rest requires a few moments more, as Ranna painstakingly sifts through the assorted jars and bottles, separating them into two categories: those needed for her own practice, and those which are valuable enough to have a street price.

She quickly loads everyone up with what you can carry, and a minute or two later you are ready to get going.

But...

They need to get in and out quickly, but Ranna still stops short when she sees the bottles of carbolic phenol. She could treat sepsis with threin, but it didn't have the highest success rate. Prevention was always better than a cure.

She makes a few quick calculations. In order to transfer the bottles safely they'd have to put other things back. The medicines she'd already picked out were necessities while antiseptic was a luxury she'd done without before. Alcohol was a poor substitute, but it worked in a pinch.

(Not well enough.)

The expensive drugs though, the ones that sold for a lot of coin on the black market, those weren't necessities. They were payment. No one did anything for free in Doskvol, but maybe, just maybe...

The worst they can do is say no.

Technically not true. The worst they could do, now that she's pointed out which drugs sell for the most, is kill her and take everything for themselves. But making a request isn't going to make that outcome any more or less likely.

"Those bottles of carbolic phenol. That's a potent antiseptic. I don't need it as much as the other stuff I've given you, but it's one of the best ways to prevent sepsis." Ranna shifts uncomfortably. "If anyone's willing to make a little less money and grab a bottle or two of that instead of the valuable stuff, I'd owe you for it. A lot."

Casia pauses, her eyes flitting from the bottles that Ranna originally indicated to the bottles that promise sweet oblivion. A cloudy fog in which she doesn't see Papa's face. A quiet interlude when Mother's recriminations don't echo in her ears.

She licks her lips and glances around noting that the others are all busy stuffing bottles, boxes, and satchels into prepared bags. One hand reaches up and brushes across one of the bottles. Even the cool of the glass is soothing and she can almost feel the burn of it trickling down her throat.

"Those bottles of carbolic phenol. That's a potent antiseptic. I don't need it as much as the other stuff I've given you, but it's one of the best ways to prevent sepsis." Ranna shifts uncomfortably. "If anyone's willing to make a little less money and grab a bottle or two of that instead of the valuable stuff, I'd owe you for it. A lot."

Casia starts and pulls her hand back to look quickly over her shoulder at the jars the woman is talking about.

Sepsis

An image of her brother, pale and sweating, on the leech's table comes to her. What would he think of her? Fin always had a strong sense of fair play. While it wasn't something that she shared, she had always felt the need to rise to his overly-rosy image of her.

"No," she says out loud. "This is a debt paid."

Casia begins to gather the bottles of carbolic phenol.

Jonah runs his thumb over the silver woven in the bandages. The cool, pure chill of the metal is practically intoxicating. Judging by the bundled of rolled bandage he was carrying, there was enough silver for six months worth of research. Six months worth of working to save his sister from becoming something like Wally or the beast that had inhabited Hutton in the end. Family comes first. With a sweat soaked palm, he starts to slip the pack into one of the many pockets in his heavy duster.

His eyes drift over to Ranna who continued to sort through the supplies. Ranna, who had saved Fin, no questions asked. Ranna who saved his own life and those of numerous others during those darkest days near the end of the war. Ranna who is a Dusk Mite now. And being a Dusk Mite meant being family. He'd make due with whatever his split of the total job was. If he had to scrape silver for a week, well, that was a small price to pay for family...both living and spiritual.

The thought is still echoing in his mind when the healer points out the carbolic phenol. With a soft sigh as the slugs go slipping through his fingers, he puts the silvered bandages back and grabs one of the bulkier glass jugs.

"Anything for family." He says, his gaze lingering on the bandages before he finally turns ready to make their getaway.

"I need these." Luce says, holding up the painkillers. "I'll carry whatever else you want, but I need these." She's polite but there is an undercurrent of steel in her voice that makes it clear that there is no negotiating involved.

It isn't even a hard decision in the end - getting the painkillers was the only reason to take this job in the first place. Getting in with the Dusk Mites is useful, protection from an actual gang rather than just hiding behind Salia's reputation is a big step up, but Jonah was right - family comes first. It has to, and her brothers shouldn't have to be out on the streets all day just so they don't have to endure their father's temper and his pain. Not when she can do something about it.

Ranna stares in shock as both Casia and Jonah start gathering the bottles of carbolic phenol. She'd asked but she hadn't expected them to say yes. She hadn't expected them to willingly give up their own payment in favor of something that might, only might, save a life.

Mirrors lie.

The murderous psychopaths the mirrors had shown her would never have done such a thing. Would have mocked her for even asking. She still needs to find out what exactly the Dusk Mites had done to the Grinders and why, but for the first time since seeing the visions Ranna smiles. "Thank you."

Luce's demand puts a slight damper on her newfound good mood, but only a slight one. Ranna glances over at the bottles of painkillers Luce is holding up. Not the most valuable items. Potentially addictive in large quantities, but Luce didn't show any signs of being an addict. Process of elimination would indicate that Luce wanted them for someone else who was either an addict or in a great deal of chronic pain. (Or, most likely, both. Although should it count as an addiction if you really do need the painkillers in order to live a semi-normal life?)

"Thank you too, for telling me." She could have just taken the painkillers and run. Luce's honesty meant Ranna could plan. "There's another painkiller here, Etoprox. It's not quite as effective but it'll do. Would you be willing to carry that for me? If not, I understand, and I can make do without them."

Luce simply nods and starts filling the bag she brought with her as efficiently as possible. There's no point discussing things further, they've been here too long already.

She finishes quickly, much faster than the two trying to deal with glass bottles both large and fragile, so she heads towards the door.

"I'll keep watching." She promises, clutching her bulging bag to her hip. "But hurry up!"

Luce is correct: time is not on your side. You know from the conversation you overheard with the two goons in the cellar that Kohanna is on his way, although you do not know how soon that will be. In addition to that, you need to find a different way out of here; unless you want to face down said goons (who will doubtless have returned to their post by now, your little distraction having played out) and risk travelling the route by which you know Kohanna will be coming in.

What will you do?

As the rest of the gang finishes up Luce pulls out another set of blueprints, this time the original architects drawings of the building itself.

"I'm not certain that these are entirely accurate any more." She says when Ranna leans over her shoulder. "But we should be able to go this way and turn there. That'll take us towards the back door. Worst comes to worse you and Casia act drunk and I'll try and fast talk our way out with Jonah as my husband."

"That doesn't have to be classed as the worst situation," Casia says with a smirk. From somewhere within her garments she produces a small brown bottle.

Popping the cork, she takes a quick swallow before passing it to Ranna.

"Verisimilitude," she says with a encouraging nod.

Ranna accepts the bottle with a raised eyebrow. She takes the tiniest of sips and swishes it around her mouth to make sure the smell will stay on her breath. "Ugh. Hopefully that'll do, because I am not willing to drink any more of that stuff. Especially not on a job." She immediately hands the bottle back to Casia.

Still grimacing slightly she studies the blueprints Luce's pulled out. "Hang on a minute. Jonah and I came from this direction, which means..." She uses a finger to trace backwards the route she remembers. "We took a left here, and went straight there..."

After a minute or two of consideration she points out a path that leads about halfway to the back door. "If I'm remembering correctly we can go this way and not run into anyone. Unless something's changed in the last ten minutes." Which it probably has; luck rarely seems to be on her side.

Casia accepts the bottle back with a shrug and indulges in another - longer - swallow before stashing it away.

"Well, the longer we wait, the more likely it is that random chance is going to screw us over. Let's get moving."

Seeing Ranna smile, Jonah's own tension eases a bit. He'd worried for the healer since they'd passed through the mirror-filled halls. Her grim, stoic features reminding him of some of the soldiers who'd simply given themselves over to death in those final dark days of the war. Must have just been nerves or some haunting memory in the mirrors. He assumes, knowing the lying silvered glass often affects people in strange ways. Thinking the trouble behind them, he hefts the glass jugs in his arms and nods his agreement with Casia.

"Aye, I'm all too ready to get out of this place." He adds following them all down the corridor.

Laden down as you are with your usual gear, and on top of that the various things you have stolen from the apothecary, you don't fit in with the usual crowd. Thus far you're mostly managed to avoid people, but your luck runs out when you follow Luce around a corner and almost bump right into a couple of women clearly having a conversation between shifts. Seeing you, the younger one panics and pulls one of those small single-shot pistols out of her purse; they're not terribly reliable and there's a small *pfft* as the powder doesn't ignite properly - the bullet flies out slowly enough that Jonah is able to dodge it, and it barely makes a sound as it smacks into the plaster wall with a small puff of dust.

The gun drops to the floor as she raises her hands in a panic, but the older one puts a calming hand on her shoulder and steps in front. "I'm guessing you've no quarrel with us, and we don't want any trouble, but you'd be amazed how loudly we can scream."

Ranna doesn’t have time to react before the shot is fired, but fortunately Jonah does. Her eyes follow the gun as it falls to the floor and she hears herself saying, ”If you’re going to carry a gun you need to keep it maintained. A misfiring gun is worse than none at all.” A second later she finally finishes processing everything that just happened and adds, ”Although in this case it’s better for everyone you didn’t.”

Seeing that neither woman is reaching for another weapon, she raises her own hands in the air. (Or at least as high as she can get them while carrying several heavy bags.) ”Believe it or not we don’t want any trouble either. So how about this. You don’t scream, we don’t do anything you’d need to scream about, and we all go our separate ways. Sound reasonable?”

With everyone's hands in the air, Jonah glares at the young woman and strides over to snatch the gun from the ground. Dropping it into one of his many pockets with a nods to Renna's more than sensible suggestion.

"A more than reasonable proposition than most would offer after being shot at, I'd say." The whisper adds grouchily. Sewers, lying ghost field mirrors, silver left behind, and now being shot at by girl younger than Naty. All of it was starting to fray his nerves and patience giving his voice and scowl more severity than intended. And yet the girl was younger or perhaps about the same age as his dearly semi-departed sister. And so he pulls a few slugs from another pocket.

"Here, if anyone asks, these should help you recall the four big Iruvians dressed in flimsy silks that looked like they'd passed through a bunch of thick cobwebs."

The gun drops to the floor as she raises her hands in a panic, but the older one puts a calming hand on her shoulder and steps in front. "I'm guessing you've no quarrel with us, and we don't want any trouble, but you'd be amazed how loudly we can scream."

"No-one wants any trouble." Luce agrees, glad to see the older woman being sensible about the situation. "We mean no harm to you and yours, we are merely passing through. Now my friend here will put the pistol on that table when we pass it and you can collect it later." She pulls a small purse from her pocket and hefts it significantly. "Now why don't you two take this and grab a drink downstairs? You obviously worked hard to get a client that left a generous tip - that deserves a little relaxation."

She steps forward and offers the purse on an outstretched hand.

The older woman visibly relaxes as Luce talks, giving you a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Well doesn't that sound like a nice arrangement for us all." Her hand closes around the purse Luce is offering; and just as you're all about to go your separate ways, the younger woman makes a triumphant sound as though she's just worked something out.

"Hold on. I know you." She squints at Luce. "You're Zanna's sister, aincha? And what, you're just going to toddle off for a handful of slugs? Don't fink so. My brother can't see no more cos of you, it's one of the reasons I'm working here." She nudges her companion. "We're looking at a proper payday now."

The older woman catches the smouldering glare in Luce's eye, and shakes her head. "Not here, Becca. Or you, whatever your name is, I don't remember it and I don't want to." She stows the purse Luce gave her in one of her garments, before taking Becca firmly by the arm, over the younger woman's protests. "We're both going, we don't want no trouble, see?" She points. "We're going this way, you go ... somewhere else. Come on Becca, I'd bet Coin to slugs that their guns work better'n yours did. Stupid girl, carrying something like that..." Becca opens her mouth to argue, but doesn't pull away. "It ain't right, what she done to my brother." She glares at Luce. "There's something wrong with you."

"I know." Luce replies softly, but the admission doesn't lessen here return glare in the slightest. In fact she does her level best to burn the young woman alive with willpower alone until both women round the corner and break the spell over her.

"Right, quick. We're nearly there." She says sharply. "No time to dally now!"

Ranna's eyebrows shoot upwards as the younger woman starts talking about paydays. Jonah and Luce were already being more than fair by offering any slugs in her opinion, given that she'd tried to shoot them. "You do realize you've just given us a very good reason to kill you?" Some of the chemical concoctions inside her bandolier wouldn't even give the ladies the chance to scream first. Hard to scream when you can't breathe.

She doesn't reach for them though. "Consider yourself lucky we're not the monsters you're accusing her of being." She inclines her head towards the older woman. "Thank you for being reasonable. Now get your companion out of here."

Once the other women are around the corner she mutters, "If we had killed her it wouldn't even have been murder. At that level of stupidity it's assisted suicide." (Ranna tries to be a good person. However it's been a very trying evening and she has long since run out of f@*~s to give.)

Once the other women are around the corner she mutters, "If we had killed her it wouldn't even have been murder. At that level of stupidity it's assisted suicide." (Ranna tries to be a good person. However it's been a very trying evening and she has long since run out of f&$@s to give.)

"It's not too late," Casia offers with a shrug, a razor-sharp dagger having appeared in her hand as if by magic. "People die in these places all the time. A frustrated trick taking out his self-hatred on one of the workers? Infighting between two girls? Someone taking their kink just a little too far?"

She glances back to where the ladies escaped to before shaking her head.

"Sorry. We should go."

"Stop. Both of you." Luce says sharply. "A body count ruins the op. This has gone sideways enough already. Do not make it worse!"

It is clear that the Spider is equally upset, but she's holding it together better - or at least not looking to use random violence as an emotional outlet.

"I'm not the one that was recognized by a girl in a pleasure palace," Casia replies with a smirk. "Something we should know about?"

"I tried to kill her brother." Luce says simply, heading for the door. "Got an eye but that was it. Seems she holds a grudge."

"Can't imagine why," Casia scoffs. "And I'm sure there's a story there, but no time to hear it now."

As they make their way down the hall towards the exit, she says to Luce in a softer voice, "You know she's gonna rat you - and by extension, us - out at the first opportunity, right?" She glances back behind them before turning her attention to the dark-haired woman. "There's still time to make sure that she can't sing."

"It's going to cause a bit of heat." Luce replies. "I understand. Withdrawing the invitation makes sense. You don't need my problems. It's fine. I'll take my share and go once we're clear."

Casia frowns.

"I wasn't ... Look, you're a part of the team and we take care of our team. I mean unless you want to leave."

She looks away.

"Besides you're my ... my brother's type. You should meet him. He'd like you."

Interesting. That's the first time she's lied. The analytical part of Luce's mind says, the thought helping to push the lingering rage away. Emotions make you sloppy. Then you make mistakes. No more mistakes - not here, not now.

She takes a single deep breath and looks up to catch Casia's eye. A single twitch of her eyebrow is enough to make the other woman blush, just a little, which only confirms what Luce already knew.

But which part of that was the lie She wonders, and the only way to find out is one which matches her own desires. Getting into a gang was something she'd been working on for almost a year. The resources, the protection, these are things that her family needs to survive long term. Since her presence has already sent the job sideways she had to offer, but she'd be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she's glad Casia turned her down.

"I'll stay." She says simply. Because I want to know more about you Spit.

"Don't flatter yourself," she replies with a smirk, but her lip curls up into a grin and her cheeks stay pink. "Yeah, definitely Fin's type."

"This way and we should be out," she says to the others, indicating the path ahead.

"Who else will?" Luce counters swiftly. "Your brother?" She pauses, just to draw the moment out. This banter is fun. "You?"

"You look like a woman that doesn't need anyone to flatter her, but yeah ... my brother would happily do that. Me? You're just a pretty pain in my arse." She chuckles. "And I'm becoming even more convinced that you think way too highly of yourself."

Luce just smirks and carries on.

And then turns around and blows a kiss at her gang mate - just because she can.