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"That must be our new friend," Bravo comments dryly as they approach. No one that bright could be a local. "Hi, glad to meet you. I'm Bonar Vizetelly. Call me 'Bravo.' I take it you're the contact Historia-7 told us to meet? We've had a surprising amount of attrition on this mission despite only having gotten into a single fight."
Bravo leads the way out. "Well, only one place left to go now, and this time we KNOW it's going to be unpleasant," he says once they're on the street.
"Well, thanks for the info you could provide, and the interesting drinks. You know, once you get past the initial shock of the appearance, your place is kinda charming, Yilhane," Bravo says as he finishes his drink.
”I gannot say I know about any thieving on her part, though I am not surprised.” "Well, it only just happened last night. Though I'm honestly surprised you're being so straightforward with us. Last place we asked around at seemed a lot more scared of her and unwilling to share info."
The strange being’s eyes widen and he says, ”You will vind nothing in looking vor her. Ilyania is bad news. But if you really do wish to vind her, I may know zomething. I had heard she was no lonker staying within the city, perhaps outside of it.” "That she's bad news we already knew just from meeting her," Bravo quips. "And I imagine we'll find SOMETHING in looking for her, specifically something she stole from us the other night."
Bravo sips his milkwine quietly and listens.
"I'll have what he's havin'," Bravo replies, jerking his head towards Nalun. "Milkwine, please." While he waits for the drink he nods at Yilhane's words. "We're more interested in the latter. Has-beens desperate to become am-nows again, if you know what I'm sayin'."
As Elisys seems too flabbergasted by the bizarre ambiance of the establishment, Bravo speaks up. "Curiosity, mostly. What kinds of drinks you serve, Yilhane?"
Bravo takes point, as usual, pressing the Open button.
"I didn't wanna be 'that guy' who suggested that," Bravo replies.
"Pfft! If that was your attempt at rude, you should take a few lessons from my old drill sergeant," Bravo comments. When they arrive at Yilhane's he grimaces. "Is this building gonna fart in our face or something?"
Bravo retrieves his weaponry from the "coat-check" and moves back out into the street, and waits for the others to join him. "We ready to move on to Yilhane's?"
Bravo grunts. "Maybe we should try another bar, Boss. Looks like the rumors haven't reached here yet."
"What kinda questionable we talkin' here? Questionable by general Pact Worlds standards or questionable even by Apostae standards?" Bravo asks dryly.
Bravo makes a petulant noise and returns to drinking his alcoholic milk.
"About those rumblings. About one of the Big Z's. Do I need to spell it out for you?"
"Been some rumblings down here, boss wanted to know more."
Bravo raises an eyebrow at Krizen's enthusiasm for this strange milk he's never heard of, and tells the bartender, "Havin' what Fuzzface is havin'." He accepts the drink and sniffs it curiously before taking a sip. "You one of those listenin' bartenders?" he asks as he drinks.
"I'll have what he's having," Bravo adds. He sniffs it curiously before taking a sip.
REAL tough guys order milk at the bar! >:)
Bravo looks the bartender in the eye. "Milk."
"You lettin' me drink on the job, boss?" Bravo asks, not entirely in jest.
"Yes, boss." Bravo lays his hunting rifle, pistol and knife on the table, his face impassive. His knuckles were more than enough...assuming everyone else followed the same rules.
Bravo, now with fake prosthetic teeth, green painted skin and hair died dark and messy, snorts. "I only disarm if the boss tells me to disarm. Right, boss?" he says gruffly. His armor's decorations have been obscured or removed and he carries himself with the mercenary slouch of a person who's ready for action but doesn't really want to be there, rather than standing up straight like he's used to. |
