TIS I, A HUMBLE CAPITALIST.

[murderbaby]

WHO: Ilias, Darras, Mhavos, Silver
WHAT: Vacation in Nevarra.
WHEN: Honestly probably backdated, whoops.
WHERE: A warehouse in Nevarra.
NOTES: time is bad.

• For reference.
• Top levels in comments, feel free to make ur own.

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[libratus]

Ilias, who has spent his life more interested in earning permission to lock doors than in trying to open any, nonetheless spares a glance to watch his petit friend work with unencumbered curiosity.

Tension wrenches aren't anything he knows anything about, either, but basic physics, he can gather. A searching motion, a smooth fan of the hand, and -- Ah. He plucks up a fire poker, narrow enough at the tip. Looks to Mhavos's arms, then his own.

Hm.

"Why don't I--" He gestures. You know, do the part requiring muscles.

[murderbaby]

Ilias' petit friend looks up with surprise and, once identifying the fire poker in the other man's hand-- something approaching joy. He has no idea what Ilias' is planning. He supports it whole-heatedly.

Stepping neatly aside, "be my guest."

[hornswoggle]

John gives a soft hum of approval. Whatever he might say were they in different company is held in that hum. The sweep of his hand echoes Mhavos' sentiment: Let's see what you have in mind.

[libratus]

Ilias withers slightly under the attention — Maker, don't look at him, it really isn't that exciting — but all the same, undoes the buttons of his shirt cuffs and steps in. He's by no means a large man, but is apparently accustomed to doing more with his arms than just holding his staff, you're welcome.

The narrow end of the poker shimmies between drawer face and frame, twists to lever behind the former, and— with a brisk but precise application of said muscles, cracks free of the track. There.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos is sure he's felt pure, unbridled lust before now, but he can't remember when. It must have been a very long time ago. Which is good, because it means the memory is so distant it doesn't trigger the embarrassment that would invariably lead to a full-faced blush. His smile does grow warmer-- not predatory or hungry, just appreciative-- and he forgets to hide the way he's quite obviously looking at Ilias' forearms, not his work with the poker.

It takes about a heartbeat too long for Mhavos to snap back to himself. He raises a hand to his mouth, curled as though thinking, trying to hide the smile he can't quite rid himself of. His eyes carefully drift from Ilias.

It is overall an unsubtle display, but only if one is looking directly at Mhavos. He hopes above all that no one has been.

"Very- very good. Thank you, Speaker." He wants to call him Ilias. He worries that would be over-familiar at the moment.

[hornswoggle]

Is this a circumstance particular to Ilias? This is the second outing he's been on where Ilias elicited this same fraught emotion. John looks from Ilias to Mhavos, then turns his head to find Darras, who currently seems immune to the good Speaker's charms.

"Fine work indeed," John echoes as he leans forward, pulls the draw out to reveal it's contents. "And it seems it's yielded something worth our attention."

Hopefully it's what they need to achieve some results. It would be nice if at least of his outings were straightforward as pulling answers from a locked drawer.

[murderbaby]

"Yes- yes, thank you." Mhavos moves to compose himself-- there's still a warm feeling in his chest that he hopes isn't somehow luminously obvious-- taking a step forward to retrieve the ledger. He flips through it quickly, with the air of someone very accustomed to skimming tomes for the relevant nuggets of information.

"Here- here." He taps a page. "I will never understand why fraudulent financiers feel the need to keep record of it. One would think a criteria of criminality would be a good memory." He flips a few more pages, and his smile becomes the clever, curved thing of venal interest.

"Which is to say, this is perfectly legal, but politically problematic. They're supplying both sides."