faderift | get me out of this place before I cause more damage

Entry tags:

get me out of this place before I cause more damage

WHO: Church, Malcolm, Rachette, yyyyyou
WHAT: Catch-all!
WHEN: March/Draconis not-darkest-timeline-time
WHERE: Around Skyhold
NOTES: Hit me up on plurk if you want to start something else specific

[Rachette is still dropping by unsuspecting classes after how enlightening some of them have been. It could be any of them! Typically she doesn't actually sit in them, more like lingers and loiters just outside the edges, but still, call her out on it. Or call her out on inquiring about ingredients to make grenades with one of the merchants hanging around the courtyard. Another thing she's doing just around the hold is practicing her rogue-ish abilities. This means she's up on the battlements, running around on the edges. She's doing backflips off walls and sneak-stabbing dummies. She's finding new and inventive ways to get around the hold, sometimes with the unspoken stipulation that she can't touch the ground/floor. Also, lurking and hiding in shadows, trying to be unseen. If you get that feeling of someone watching you...might be her.]

[Church is still spending a lot of time at the tavern doing actual work. If you've seen him last month doing some stocking, bartending, and other Work, he's only gotten better. You might see him sometimes with a couple of cups of boozy liquid, studying them before taking a sip and making a face. Sometimes it's a good face, sometimes it's a bad face. And then jotting down notes. What a nerd. Continuing the nerd streak, he's gone back to hovering around in the library, taking even more notes. Some of these seem to be on food-based sciences, for what you could call science. And he's also busted out the maps again, though he's focused on the Free Marches now instead of the gigantic world map.]

[Malcolm has been spending more and more time in meetings and doing work for Cassandra, primarily regarding the pending move the Advisors are planning. When not with her, he goes about his normal routine as best he can, from prayer to training, but he's also spending plenty of downtime in the main hall, eating whatever there is to be found and reading and writing plenty of documents. You might find him with the feathery end of a quill resting against his lips in deep thought. If you fancy a more action-oriented Seeker, then the courtyard finds him instructing several troops in swords and shields. It's not his forte, but he's skilled enough in it to not find any trouble. Despite fake weapons and practice shields, he uses his own shield with the Seeker eye emblazoned on it for the demonstrations. Later on, you might catch him working out alone, or taking a rest with a splash of water to the face.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Christine doesn't come into the tavern often. She's much more the "drink wine alone and then say things she shouldn't over the crystals" type. But Church works here, and against all logic and reason she likes Church, so her reasons for coming in are solely Church-related. She takes a seat at the bar and nods her head towards his latest concoction.

"How goes the testing?"

Hey, he's not gonna criticize anyone's drinking style. He's just happy he can actually physically drink again. He's making a face right now as he sets the cup down.

"I'm not gonna turn down free booze, but man, who would've thought making it would be harder than 'let a fucking potato ferment', right?" There's a reason Cosima wanted more modern equipment they aren't gonna get. "Hey, riddle me this--are there elfroot flavored drinks? Would that go well? Would you get an ale that could heal your liver while the alcohol hurts it or what?"

Christine smirks, because she is far more choosy about what she drinks and will turn some things down, even if they're free. It's her prerogative to not consume something that tastes like the inside of a worn leather boot.

"You can steep elfroot leaves in hot water to make tea. It is a mild pain reliever, usually for headaches." Now she lifts her gaze up towards the ceiling in thought. "Mmm, I really do not think that would work. Once it is turned to alcohol, any healing properties are probably gone." Her gaze returns to him and she sets her chin in her hand on the bar top. "Do you need help coming up with flavors?"

She's a woman. She's allowed to be choosy. Church is a dude. Choosy is not in his vocabulary except to describe women. And Donut. "I mean, you're not so much turning elfroot into booze as you are flavoring it, but I guess it also depends on if...elfroot tastes any good."

Look, sometimes the healing in this world leaves a lot to be desired!

"Otherwise we've got ideas for berries and other fruits so far, the basics. What we really need is to get down the baseline to perfection, but no reason we can't be experimental along the way." He wiggles his fingers. "Science! It's the new magic!"

"Elfroot is..." She lifts a hand in the air to make a 'so-so' gesture. It's certainly not like mint or basil. Elfroot grows anywhere, in any kind of soil, and that's led it to having a rather generic taste. But better to take some elfroot than live in pain. That's her philosophy.

"I do hope one of those fruits is a peach. That is my favorite fruit." And since her not-boyfriend is in the business of making alcohol now, she'll go ahead and put in a request. No harm in it, right? What's the point of being a not-girlfriend if you don't get a few perks?

His finger wriggling has her lifting her eyebrows. Oh, yes, she knows all about science, from hearing the surgeons constantly proclaim that it's the future of healing and not magic. Everyone needs to make a difference in ways available to them, but they don't have to put down magic to do it. However, that's the surgeons and their view, not Church's. He's doing what he can with what's available to him, and the way her lips shift up into a proud smile shows what she thinks of his enterprise.

"You will get there. I believe in you. Now, what about something with vanilla bean? That is always a good flavor to have."

And because he's a secret giant sap, of course he's going to make sure that there's a peachy booze for his not-girlfriend at some point!!! And vanilla! "Vanilla vodka is like a staple. It's definitely gonna happen at some point. Ruby had a good setup, and Cosima is smart enough to have made a few tweaks, so we're getting somewhere without all of our fancy modern technology. Doing it like in the olden days where a Russian could let a potato sit out until it turned to vodka. Or whatever."

He's never proclaimed to be smart. Or if he has, then he was lying through his teeth, okay?

"It's just a process. I definitely want to work on the food aspect, too. There's a mass production aspect to be aware of, because like, if we add french fries to the menu, sure, I could personally heat up a pan and do a batch for every person, but think about a lunch rush where ever person who orders something wants fries, then I definitely need to have a vat of oil and a big basket, and like, there's a difference between just frying and deep frying, and even if I introduce deep fried foods to Thedas, there's other shit needs inventing. Hamburgers. They'll be the next big thing."

This is what you've chosen, Christine. A rambling future-man. These are your preferences you have expressed. No take-backs.

Don't ask her how a potato turns into vodka. It's not like the Circle had a secret underground distillery. It would have been amazing if they had. Well, after all the failures, of course.

She does listen to his ramblings with the patience of a saint, because this is something that interests him, and she knows she'd be hurt if she was rambling on passionately about a topic to someone who wasn't really listening to her.

"Are hamburgers made from ham?" she asks. She knows what that is, so she follows that thread of the conversation more easily than the french fries part.

He probably wouldn't be hurt if she visibly stopped paying attention. Having someone listen for once is actually pretty refreshing. "Hamburgers are...okay, this is gonna sound dumb, but they're made of beef. But the reason they're called hamburgers is because someone from the town of Hamburg made them."

Y'know what, Church, I'mma let you have that one even though you're mostly wrong. Keep making these conclusions with confidence, you do you.

"But it's basically ground beef cooked until it's delicious and juicy, and you slap it between two buns, and then you dress it up with whatever you want. Lettuce, tomato, ketchup, mustard, pickles, onions, cheeses, I'm making myself hungry, holy shit."

And Christine has no reason to doubt his narrative, because it makes sense that something would be named after a place. So now he just gets to sound smart. Smart and very good at making food sound appealing because holy shit, it does.

"Church." She reaches across the bar to place a hand on his arm and looks very seriously into his eyes. Are you paying attention, Church? This is a very serious moment. "That sounds delicious. We need to make these things. How do you ground beef? Do we need a butcher?" Go find a butcher, Church. Do you realize the Orlesian cheeses she could put on a juicy burger put between a freshly baked split bun?

Wow. Wow, she is very serious about burgers. Which suits him just fine, because he is also serious about bringing burgers and fries to Thedas. "So maybe I've never ground beef myself, but it can't be that hard. In the meantime, we could do some practice runs on hunks of steak. It won't taste the same, but it'll be meat that is cooked and flat-ish. But a butcher will have a better idea... I mean, sausage is ground meat in little sleeves, or something, right? I'm gonna make this happen, somehow. I need to invent condiments. Augh, if only I had paid attention to the nutritional content of those little packets of it in the mess..."

Most of the food she eats is some mix of Orlesian fanciness and Ferelden simplicity. Burgers sound like something new, and she definitely wants to try something new that won't set her mouth on fire like the time she tried whatever it was those Antivan refugees cooks made. What's the point of flavoring something if you can't taste it over the extreme pain, hmm?

"As long as we are not wasting it, I can see no problem with practicing. We shall eat it anyway." Though Christine will leave most of it in Church's hands, since he knows what it's supposed to be when they're finished, and she doesn't. She still wants to help. All those hours in Skyhold's kitchens have paid off.

"By condiments, you mean a sauce you put on top, yes? Or a gravy?" She'll help him out on this part too, she just needs to know what he's talking about first.

"Sauces on top. Like um...like a tomato based one, and mustard--you got mustard seeds? Relish. Mmm, secret sauces...shit, if I learn to cook, I could make my own secret sauce." Let's not get too ambitious here. (Too late.)

Though he snaps himself out of fantasizing about the new and varied ways these people could be eating meat. "So. Question. Dddddon't take this the wrong way or anything? But uh. Can you cook? Did you ever, y'know, learn cooking in the Circle or...anything like that?"

Christine's face softens a little, because there is still plenty he doesn't know about life in the Circle, and it's considerate of him to worry how she'll take the question.

"We did not learn. The Tranquil cooked our meals." Which was why they were often flavorless. "But I have taught myself here, with the assistance of some recipe books and advice from the cooks. I think I have come along well. I do prefer baking over anything else, really."

"Baking, that's awesome! You can make cakes! Cookies! Brownies! Chocolate chip brownies." Do they have chocolate chips here??? "You've got a leg up on me; I usually just hang around the kitchen and snag some fresh stuff I probably shouldn't, but who can resist my disarming smile?"

Like so. Disarming smile. Totally charming. Bet he's gotten a lot of things thrown at him.

She laughs at his enthusiasm. Baking appeals to her because she loves how what she makes transforms. Of course whenever you cook anything it can change color, texture, or what have you, but when you bake bread, you start with a sticky lump of dough and it bakes into a big, fluffy loaf with a crunchy crust. A cake is liquid, but then turns into a solid. It's incredible what she can create.

"What is a brownie?" she asked, because sadly Thedas hasn't invented them yet. It's a tragedy, really.

Her eyes narrow, though her lips lift in a playful smile. "I can certainly resist it." No, really; look at her resisting it and not smiling back or anything. "And if I caught you stealing something you shouldn't, I would rap your knuckles with a wooden spoon." She knocks her knuckles on the bar top as if that's the sound it would make.

"It's...it's kinda like a moist cake, but really chocolatey?" Huh, what is the technical difference between cake and brownie? "Usually a little thicker, like in consistency." Sadly he doesn't know any recipes off the top of his head. Or anywhere else in his head.

"Wow, old school knuckle rapping punishment. Very Catholic school." Church you're Jewish. Also, she doesn't know what Catholicism is. "You gonna rap anything else with a wooden spoon?" Suggestive eyebrow waggle! Kinkshaaaaame.

"I like chocolate." There was never an abundance of it in the Circles, but being that it was Orlais, of course there was chocolate being passed around. It wouldn't be the Empire if there wasn't decadence nearly everywhere.

"Very what school?" she asks. So many references are flying over her head today. But you know what? The more Church tells her, the better she can understand him in the future. And that last comment of his has her standing from her bar stool and leaning against the bar to reach out, trying to whap his stomach with the back of her hand. You come into her Thedas and try to kinkshame her???

"What about your stomach, hmm? Is that what you meant?" No, she knows it isn't what he meant, but he is entirely too obsessed with his dick.

"Pfffffff, no, stoppit!" he laughs, leaning away and waving a hand at her. He makes no apologies for his dick. He's maybe had a little bit more vodka than he should, but fuck if he shows it. Much. Try tequila next time, that'll be a barrel of laughs.

"It's a religious school, cliche is really strict nuns. Teachers. Ruler to the knuckles, whap. There's also another cliche involving what the schoolgirls dress in, but you might hit me for that one, too."

Sometimes he just has to satisfy himself by mentally hearing Tucker go bow chicka bow wow. Sometimes he wishes his buddy was here and sometimes he realizes how terrible that would be.

"Hmm, it sounds like the schools Templars attend when they are young." Not that she really knows too much about that side of the coin, but she knows they were taught by Chantry sisters.

"I think I might hit you for a great deal of things you say. Either I should be more lenient, or you should not say such things." And with that, she resumes her seat and pauses to tap her lip in pretend-thought. "I wonder which is more likely to occur first." Teaching Church to think before he speaks is no easy feat, after all. Of course, the fact that he didn't just say what schoolgirls wear shows some level of self-awareness. He's learning!

"Anyway, I think maybe you have tested enough of these drinks all on your own. Why not make one for me to try and I shall tell you what I think?"

"Last thing I'm gonna do is get involved in Thedas religious stuff," he says with a short raise of his hands. "Back home there's, just, so many religions all over that, like, I get there are a bunch of predominant ones here but that's about it that I can tell? Elves got something, qunari got...something-ish, and then there's Andraste. Do dwaves have a thing? No, don't answer it, I just said I'm not getting involved. Drinks!"

Because Church is not really the best source of information on religions. Not even Judaism, honestly.

He's got two more glasses with a bit of clear liquid in them. He lifts one and offers it to her. "No flavoring, just still trying to tweak it to get good straight up vodka. I could try mixing this other one with...something. Probably not ale. Maybe wine. I don't know that wine and vodka go together. If only we had like...ginger ale or something raspberry...or orange juice. Do you have oranges here? Because orange juice and vodka is a classic, a screwdriver. Is what we call it. For a name. Mixed drinks have to have names, the sillier and raunchier, the better."

Christine opens her mouth to explain what religion dwarves have, but when he stops her, she smiles knowingly and takes the offered drink. Religion isn't something she's keen to get into either. Not anymore. The Maker is some figure that abandoned humanity because -- what? Humans didn't deserve him? And he needs them to sing the Chant from all corners of the world before he'll come back. If he's really all powerful and all seeing, he should notice the faithful and show some sign he supports them. This hands off approach just makes Christine wonder if he even exists. That's why she's so fascinated with the Avvar gods. She knows they're real. She's spoken to a few of the household gods of Honey Badger hold. And everyone knows they're spirits. They're simply raised up as gods because they help people.

Taking a small sip of vodka, she makes a bit of a face and swirls the liquid in the glass. "It is strong," she says, "but I think the flavor will help. Oranges grow in warmer climates than the south, but they can be imported. Obviously that makes them pricier."

Setting down the glass, she crosses her arms on the bar top and gives an intrigued look. "I think naming drinks is something you would excel at. You have a good imagination."

Ellana remembers Rachette from working with her in the Western Approach, as well as just seeing her around Skyhold. She thinks it might be a good idea to add to her skills by getting some lockpicking lessons, but that requires finding the elusive dwarf first. Over the last two months, Ellana has been developing some rogue-like skills, but mostly spells that will help her as one of Leliana's scouts. She's already worked with a fellow scout to learn stealth, but she's taken it beyond to learn spells that will completely hide her. However, being sneaky and spying on people will get her no one if she can't actually get in to where they are, and lockpicking spells don't exist.

One day she keeps an eye out for Rachette, and finally takes note of the sounds of a dummy being stabbed. She follows the noise to just catch a flash of silver hair. That has to be her.

"Hey, wait!" she calls, hoping to catch her before she backflips into the ether.

Thankfully there's not much ether to backflip into, or she'd go right off the battlements to her death. What fun would that be? There is some jumping around before Rachette hacks her sword into the side of the dummy and leaves it there (eh, it's a convenient enough place), right before she realizes the call is for her.

"Just as well," she says, panting and moving over to a bucket of water, splashing her face and drinking some. "Could use a break. What am I waiting for?"

"For me," Ellana replies, coming over with a smile. "Do you remember me? We worked together in the Western Approach." Back when they went on an adventure down a well and found a magical barrier and some shiny metal. "I hear you're the one to come to if I want to learn how to pick locks."

"Yeah." She's having a hard time placing the name, but by the Ancestors, there are just so many people here. "Took forever to finally get all the sand out of places that should never have sand in them. You need something broken into specifically, or you just want me to show you the ropes?"

"Just in general," she replies, smothering her laughter about the sand comment. She completely agrees there.

"I figured I might come across some locked doors in the near future, and I need to be able to handle them."

"I generally find you come across locked doors nearly every day, but that's just because some things in Skyhold need to be locked up. Footlockers. Doors with supplies. Offices that could be filled with sensitive information." The last one would be more of a security issue for the Advisors if she could actually read any of it, buuuuut.

Rachette straightens up (not that it makes much difference as a dwarf) and puts her hands on her hips, pouting in consideration. "So, hold on, I figure the answer must be no if you're coming to me, but I'm curious--" what else is new "--whether you can just...magic locks open."

"I was thinking more like getting into places the enemy is using, but sure, that too." And really, where better to practice than right here at Skyhold? It's convenient. "At least there are examples here to use."

She understands the question, because it's one she had too. "Ah, I did some research and it looks like the answer's no. It's just too... delicate. There are all these little oddly shaped metal bits inside of locks that no magic can be fine tuned enough to move. That's not to say mages don't have their own ways of locking things with wards or whatever, like that barrier we saw under the well? But when it comes to real locks, we're stumped." Here she knows stealth and shapeshifting and everything else in order to be of use to Sister Leliana, but she can't actually get into places yet. Not if they're locked.

"Magic's kind of more of a blunt instrument when it comes to that sort of thing, huh? All right. First we have to find ourselves a lock." And she's not the type to just carry one around with her for funsies, so, once she's reholstered her sword from being lodged in the side of a dummy, she motions for the elf to follow.

"There's this one merchant whose business isn't very good, mostly because he likes to spend his time in the tavern, and also because his wares are shit. But everyone has to start from somewhere. Fortunately he keeps his stuff locked up. Unfortunately, lockpick."

What if they're caught trying to break into a merchant's wares? Well, she isn't forthcoming on that point. She'll just lead Ellana to the tiny little stall in question, and behind it, to a trunk supposedly full of goods. "Now, there are a lot of ways you can improvise if you don't have the tools. But there are tools." She reaches a hand down her top, only to bring out a small cloth roll of metal rods of certain shapes. "All you really need is this bent rod here to apply pressure, and some kind of pick to do the actual picking. I don't know if this stuff has scientific words to it, so you'll just have to deal with whatever I call it all. But you can improvise this stuff together if you have to. I got this baby off one of my Carta buddies before he died, which has been super handy, but before that I mostly used whatever I shaped out that lasted he pressure."

Ellana's eyes widen, but she keeps following Rachette and listens to what she's saying. It seems sort of wrong to do this to someone just trying to do business. Maybe she'll feel better about it if she assumes he's a real asshole.

And then the dwarf pulls out her gear and Ellana immediately knows she'll have to find somewhere else to store hers. The only way she'll have the sort of cleavage that can hold up a bundle of lockpicking tools is if she wears the corset Araceli encouraged her to buy, and she doubts she can fight in it without practice.

Kneeling out of sight of the front of the stall, she nods along. "I have a blacksmith friend. Pretty sure he won't ask questions." And if he does, it's not like Sam can deny that picking locks for the Inquisition is a good cause.

"So what's next?"

Ample cleavage is a blessing and a curse. Usually a curse, because men and because aerodynamics and center of gravity, which are fancy terms she doesn't know related to 'moving while trying to parkour rogue-style'. But as storage? Golden.

And shh, don't worry about this merchant. He's not here, and they're not stealing anything. Shit wares, after all. Not worth her time.

"So you slide in the bent rod and you pull it this way. Just a little bit! A little pressure. Too much, and nothing's going to move. Too little, and everything's going to slide back into place. The idea is to give it just enough pressure that what you pick stays in the right place to actually unlock the lock."

Nobody but some of the wannabe Kestrels had ever asked her specifically after her skills on lockpicking, to teach them. She's not a teacher herself, so this is kind of exciting. Mostly she'd shown people how to disarm basic traps and reset them. "Then you put the pick in. Now, you're going to feel these...kind of like switches, on top. You push them in with the pick until it clicks into the right place, which is why you need the rod to give you pressure to keep it there. The reason keys work the way they do is that every lock has a different place where the switch falls when a key gets put in. If it's the right key, the switches are in the right places, and the key turns. If it's not the right key, the switches aren't where they're supposed to be, and it doesn't budge. So you have to test every switch down the line and hope you don't screw up."

She has a look of concentration on her face now that she's done the best she can at wordy explaining. It doesn't take her long...which means she's probably done this lock before. There are a few small clicks as everything falls into place, and the rod turns, and the lock opens. (For what it's worth, she doesn't actually open the chest. Yeah definitely has picked this before if she's not curious what's in it; she already knows.)

"Harder than it looks, I promise."

So there really is quite a bit of concentration involved here, huh? At least at first. Ellana imagines it must get easier with time, and feel more natural. But right now, the idea of clicking switches into position is pretty daunting. Just because Rachette can do it with practiced ease doesn't mean Ellana thinks it's easy.

"I don't doubt it. So I'll feel when the switch has pushed back into the right spot? And the rod keeps them there until they're all done?" Or has she missed a step here? It's not a lot of steps, but it's something she can't see. She'll have to feel for herself.

"Yeah! It's like...it's like you're starting to turn a key. So when the switch starts falling back down, the lip of the turning mechanism catches it so it doesn't go all the way back. So if you're pulling too hard, you can't even move the other switches, but if you don't have any pressure, then they'll fall right back down. You'll feel it when it's right, because it'll stop falling. And when it's all right, click, you're in!"

Listen, you could find a worse teacher. This is pretty exciting in a way. She clicks the lock back into place. "Want to try? Be gentle."

Ellana wonders if she could find a half-built lock somewhere so she can see all the little moving pieces inside. Then maybe she'd have a better idea of what she's up against. Right now, it's all still very vague, though that's hardly Rachette's fault.

"Sure!" She takes the rod and pick and takes a good look at the tip of each before sliding in the rod. "Why gentle? Could I end up ruining the tools if I don't do it right?"

Maybe someone has practice locks around! She sure doesn't. "Yeah, actually. Might bend the rod or snap the pick, but I'm not worried about it. Besides, like I said, you could kind of make them out of anything in a pinch. Would rather have my tools intact, though."

"I'll do my best," she says, starting to feel around inside and finding that it's just as hard as she thought it would be. The little mechanisms are so tiny that it requires a lot of concentration and a very sure touch to determine if she's actually moving things. Practice locks would be a great thing. Maybe with the inside made of metal and the outer part made of glass?

"Hmm, I think I feel one." Ellana pushes it back into place and checks to see if the lock will open. Nope. Time to check the next.

_{[ Such a nerd, Church. But in this case, it is entirely acceptable since it seems you are practicing the noble art of mixology, something this place sorely needs. What Kirk wouldn't give for a proper mixed drink that didn't taste like horse and cat piss had been mixed together with a touch of mint thrown in.

Kirk comes in during a slower time during the day, wanting to kick up his feet more than anything, maybe get a bit of lunch in him if there was anything to be had. He spotted Church and came over, realizing what he was doing after a moment's observation. ]}

Any luck finding something that doesn't make you want to vomit?

I'll have you know, anything in the right quantities can make you hurl. And you know you had a good night if you wake up the next day and that's the first thing you do.

[He kicks another glass back, letting it sit on his tongue with a thoughtful look, then swallows it with a bit of a gag.] I think Jamie might be the best one to ask about flavor, y'know, how it's really supposed to taste. Vodka's...y'know. It's vodka. If there's a taste, you're kinda doing it wrong unless it's supposed to be flavored. I gotta tell ya, the alcohol content of some of these is definitely going to make the next couple hours interesting. I might scrub some pots with number two here.

Long story short, we're still tweaking it, but I think we're nearly there. Ruby has a good setup. [Had. He winces just a half-moment at that.] And then mixed fucking drinks, my friend. Kick the tavern up to a swanky club. Chez Herald.

I think we might be able to debate on that last part. Or have they not figured out hangover cures in your era?

_{[ He had practically lived by them in his early college days. Thank god, too, otherwise he might have never passed as well as he did. He was a robust young man, but even he had limits when it came to such things. And alien alcohol was especially hard on the blood stream. ]}

Let me know when you can start with the mixed drinks. I have enjoyed a good White Russian or two in my time.

_{[ What? He liked chocolate with a kick, okay? Besides, vodka got the blood faster than beer did and was cheaper than the good whiskeys and brandies. And if his dates liked them, why not indulge? Point being, he's not ashamed. ]}

Hmm, will I be needing a members card just to get through the door soon? Do I get the Rifter discount?

Total fucking Rifter discount. Like, on the downlow. I feel like if it got out we were catering to people that aren't generally well-liked, that might be riot-inducing. Maybe I should throw in a ladies night. Who doesn't love a ladies night?

[People with taste, generally, but who's counting?]

We got things that can ease hangovers. Not necessarily cure them. I mean, you could probably pay for something like that, but I'm a fucking private, I don't earn that kind of scratch.

Or...any scratch, now, actually. Not back there at home. [Because SOMEONE decided it was a good idea to DELETE THE ENTIRE BLUE ARMY FROM THE FREELANCER DATABASE.]

Who knows, it might help you get a certain reputation, you know? Those can be useful - all the best gossip comes through the places that deal with that sort and know how to keep their mouths shut.

_{[ It's worth a thought, isn't it? But hey, not his bar. ]}

I thought you were forced to be part of the Inquisition. Doesn't that come with a paycheck of some kind?

_{[ Kirk himself just got by on his odd jobs and his teaching, though
the teaching part was mostly volunteer. ]}

I'm soooo down for being part of the grapevine, man. And the more I learn about this place, the more I'll understand gossip. Guess it might pay to be that guy. Secret keeper sorta thing. The listener. Isn't that what good bartenders are like? Think I could introduce wet t-shirt competitions if t-shirts don't exist?

[church stop why must you do this]

Ehhhh, yeah, there's a paycheck. I'm mostly ragging on past me and my past army-filled life. I...man...y'know, I know I got paid, but I don't know where that money really went. [Because...AI...] But then shit happened and then I didn't get paid anything because my whole team technically didn't exist anymore. It's a stupid story.

You were sounding so good, right up until that last part. I'm not sure the surly, secret keeping bar tender is the one encouraging wet t-shirt contests. Besides, all the material for the shirts of any of the girls who would work for you would be to thick.

_{[ So don't waste the beer or the water. But mostly the beer. ]}

If your team doesn't exist anymore, isn't that a way out for you? You don't exactly seem like you enjoy the army life. So if you've been 'released', wouldn't that be a good chance for you to start over? Go do something you really want to do? Like run a bar and keep people's secrets and sell gossip on the side?

Who said anything about surly? Do you think I could honestly pull off surly unless I'm unholy pissed at someone? Don't answer that. Because holy shit. Sell gossip for a copper. Yeah. The go-to information booth.

Maybe I'll quit the Inquisition and just stick around to run a tavern. I'll be doing everyone a service and make my own money and not have to risk my hide out there.

_{[ Maybe if you were Sarge, but he'd just confuse people. ]}

I thought that was what all good bar tenders did. You listen, you listen good, and when someone comes in, well, you give a vague bit of advice that doesn't precisely betray anyone but helps the guy out and sweep a copper into the hidden stash, you know?

It sounds like you'd be happier, for sure. And, you know, if you own an inn, you could have a room on top of it. A private one - could rent it our for extra cash or have a, ah, friend over.

_{[ He smirked and waggled his brows at Church. ]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

get me out of this place before I cause more damage

you know who

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backflipping dwerf

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tavern - Church

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