faderift | whisper campaign!!

So, they finagle themselves an invitation. They get in the door, and then—

Silver finds that Flint was right. This is fairly more complicated than simply getting up in front of a hoard of pirates and stomping his foot before announcing a mish-mash of scuttlebutt. This is more complex, even with the groundwork having been laid in the form of stolen Venatori letters carefully planted. Any given search would discover that strain of evidence, but the trick of triggering enough hysteria to provoke a search was going to require all of them doing their work very well tonight.

At the least, John is a curiosity. He isn't so welcome here, but he has the weight of semi-scandalous interest on his side. It means he can murmur his way through conversation about what he's heard about certain individuals and hasn't anyone here heard about their scandalous associations...?

At a point, he breaks to circle away, angling towards any friendly face.

"How goes it?"

Hopefully well. John would very much like for this night to turn out a success.

She steps up to his side, the second he looks to her. Gently taking his hand to curve it around her arm. Letting them walk together as she falls into step next to him. It's been - quite some time since she'd played these games, this way, but oh she takes to it well. Glittering like a temple statue she might have been once, like she never had spent a day on the streets. That arrogant confidence that she was more than anyone's equal.

Rather than answer him directly, she laughs brightly like he's said something absolutely thrilling, and uses it as an excuse to lean in. "Mister Silver, say that's not true- " it's pitched the same way she knew how to carry her voice on battlefields, to make sure that the words could be distinct before she leant in conspiratorially like they had a great secret to share.

Which was true, granted. But now other people would want to know what it was. Leaning to talk close to his ear. "Well, very well, so far. I think we are making quite the impression."

For all the uncertainty of this venture, John knows he's chosen well here. Gwen's advice had been useful. His companions are all far more at home in this room than John is, even if one would never know it from the way John's carried himself.

At the least, they've gotten a fair amount of attention. John's eyes find Thor across the room, try to pick out Freddie or Lexi and fail, before he turns his obliging grin fully back to Lakshmi.

"I don't think you're capable of not making an impression," John tells her, casually complimentary. "Even if no one follows up with an investigation, I think our efforts have been insidious enough to catch on."

Maybe before they go, John will spend a day or two on the docks. If they can't throw the entirety of the nobility into chaos, John can at least rile up the dock workers and merchants. But he'll consider that more seriously later.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Silver," oh it's wicked, her laughter, at his compliment. Pleased as always, to do just that, and so completely unapologetic about it. But still, she gives his hand a fond squeeze as if they knew each other better than a brief bit of huddling post-battle. "Did you earn that name from having a silver tongue, I wonder?"

But she nods, shifting, trailing her eyes over the room, always, to it and then back to him. Something on her tongue about telling them they saw the woman whoring upstairs, and see how many of them ran off to check. The last attempt, truly.

Granted, his question, she looks back for, meeting his eyes briefly. Pretty blue things, they were. Like gems sitting in his face, like the statues carved in temples she only could half remember now. "Truthfully?" A huff, deep in the back of her throat. Something that wants to get out, and she is tired, perhaps, in her own way. "I despise it. But I suspect that's not surprising."

The question gets a smile but nothing else. No, there's no telling where he came by the name. No, there's no delving into the man he'd once been before he was a cook and a pirate and a boogeyman Billy's using to terrorize whatever's left of Nascere.

There's more pertinent topics to consider anyway. But even with the damage they're attempting to accomplish at hand, he still asks:

"The party or the gossiping?"

Since there is some difference between the two. He knows nobility when he encounters it, though Lakshmi is...something else, to understate her entirely. He suspects she dislikes both, considering what he knows of her.

She pauses when someone comes close, a deliberate little hover like they are sharing some secret that has been interrupted, eyes following them as if to make the point that they shouldn't be listening. A half protective, half suggestive curl against John's side, all glitter, all gold, that warms her words by his ear. As if they all don't know it doesn't make them want to listen more, being in such a whispered quick place.

Courtiers. All the same. French, English, Maratha, Mughal. Birds of a particularly ridiculous feather. But oh, how they could flock. They might fancy themselves peacocks, but they were ever crows. Ready to pick the eyes out of the dead for the sweetest bits.

"I dislike anything with this veneer of falseness." She speaks once they are left alone again. "If you mean to play in these games, learn that of them. Learn that not even your letters are safe. If they are willing to carve their own bodies this way, it will be nothing compared to what they will do to you. At least a soldier will hold a blade and you can both be honest about what he intends to do with it."

whisper campaign!!

"i heard he thought camembert was goat cheese."

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