Down On Skid Row [Closed-ish]

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa, Byerly
WHAT: Repairing friendship maybe??
WHEN: a few days after By's backfired apology (pre-Ghislain)
WHERE: Lowtown
NOTES: Drinking and drug use and probably violence, threadjacking negotiable

Lowtown taverns haven't been Athessa's regular haunts for a long while, probably because she tacitly conceded them to Derrica in favor of drifting along the battlements in clouds of smoke and visiting Hightown apartments where the food is arguably much better. But she's here now, leaning against the bar and trying valiantly to get the barkeep's attention. This isn't the one who passes her information for Riftwatch, just an unaffiliated one who has something against elves, or women, or short-arses, or all of the above.

So while she waits, she produces a blunt and lights it on someone else's match just after they light their own cigarette. It's surprising enough for the man that he stares, confused, until the flame burns down to his fingers and he drops the match and stomps it out when it hits the floor.

"Cheers," Athessa says, though he's already ignoring her again, just like the barkeep. She turns and leans her elbows on the bar, scanning the crowd for anyone pretty, handsome, pretty handsome, or pretty interesting.

Comments

[sulahnan]

No, of course she's not intending for him to fight in the brawl, which he might notice if he spots her again, signing with the splay of her fingers as she knees a man in the chest. Leave, I'll follow.

It'd take too much waving and flailing around to give a full explanation that there is a plan here, even if Byerly's presence wasn't part of it. Athessa's fighting her way towards the back of the bar, its outlet into an alley that fortunately has a convenient intersection with the street out front.

[bouchonne]

He doesn't leave, not at first. He stands there, jaw gritted, brow furrowed, hands clenched. Then, finally, after an agonizing pause, he decides to trust her - and so he turns, shoulders hunched, and leaves the front way.

The stress in him is quite visible as he stalks up that street, his face wearing a deep scowl.

[sulahnan]

As soon as he draws even with the mouth of the alley, Athessa catches his arm and pulls him off the main street, breathing heavy and laughing on the exhales.

"I can't believe - it didn't fucking break," she gasps, letting him go and leaning against the wall of the building they just left.

[bouchonne]

"Andraste's cunt," he hisses at her. A bit of the displeasure fades, but he still looks at her in supreme exasperation and dismay. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

[sulahnan]

Still chucking to herself, she holds up a finger to tell him to wait and cups her other hand around her ear. For the bit.

At first there's no sound, but then the clanking of steel-booted feet tromping up the street starts up like a marching band and gets louder as they approach. Four city guards pass the alley and barge into the tavern to break up the ruckus, and Athessa points her staying finger after them.

"That's why. Did you know there's a bounty on those two mercs?"

[bouchonne]

Ah. By blinks, taken aback.

"There is? For what?"

[sulahnan]

She shrugs.

"The usual shit, I reckon," which covers all manner of sin, "But I made a deal with one of the guards to let him collar 'em instead of turning 'em in myself, so he can vie for a promotion and he'll give me information on other city guards instead of the bounty."

[bouchonne]

His lips part in surprise.

"When...did you set that up?"

[sulahnan]

"Oh, a while ago," she says, waving a dismissive hand. "Baz tasked me with figuring out everything I could on one particular guard, and I've just been sorta...expanding the scope of the assignment just in case."

[bouchonne]

"And so - " He stares at her, agape. "All of that was planned?"

[sulahnan]

"Yeah," One of the guards steps back into view and glances down the alley. Athessa nods at him. He nods at Athessa. Then the other three appear, hauling the two mercs along between them.

"Well, not all of it. Obviously I wasn't expecting to see you in there, but. The rest of it." She turns back at Byerly and raises her eyebrows at the look on his face. "What?"

[bouchonne]

"Nothing." He closes his mouth, finally, and runs a hand through his hair. Then, with a shake of his head - "I'm just - impressed."

[sulahnan]

The four guards disappear into the night with their collars and the clink clank of their boots receding after, and it's Athessa's turn to gape with genuine delight for a moment before schooling her expression into something a little lest earnest and far more smug.

"I mean the brawl was a little bit for the fun of it, too."

[bouchonne]

"I suppose one does have to find one's kicks somewhere," he agrees. Then he shakes his head again. "Did you get the information on the guards beforehand, or is it coming later?"

[sulahnan]

"Both. Got some up front, with the promise of more after. And if he decides to renege, I can tell his captain how susceptible he is to bribery."

Pushing off of the wall, Athessa starts to stroll towards the street. "I didn't manage to keep the bottle. You still got that joint?"

[bouchonne]

"Lost, I fear," he answers with a shrug. "Such sacrifices we've made for the good of..." He turns a glance on her. "Riftwatch? Your training? Dear Bastien's pockets?"

[sulahnan]

"All of the above?" She looks back, returning his shrug with one of her own. "How long've we got til the last ferry?"

Meaning: what else can we get up to before then?

[bouchonne]

"Two hours," he replies. "Why, more schemes to be schemed?"

[sulahnan]

"Not really, I just don't fancy going back yet."

[bouchonne]

"Well - " A breath out. "You don't really want to spend the evening drinking, do you?" Then - "Have you ever run a shell game before?"

[sulahnan]

She doesn't want to spend it drinking, that's true. But she's intrigued.

"Never run one, no. Just pickpocketed during."

[bouchonne]

He hums slightly in acknowledgment, already crossing over to the pile of rubbish behind one of the restaurants. A broken crate is overturned to form a makeshift surface; then he sifts through some of the discarded clamshells until he finds three that are reasonably identical.

A little pebble is placed beneath one of the shells; all three are placed on the crate, which Byerly seats himself behind.

"Observe," he says, and lifts the shells to show the one with the pebble. Then, with the deft hand of a true master, he begins spinning and weaving the shells in between one another, forming a dizzying pattern. Finally, he comes to a stop:

"Which one?"

[sulahnan]

Athessa crouches opposite Byerly, watching the pattern carefully. She's not trying as hard as she can, but she's not simply making an arbitrary choice when she points.

"Middle one."

[bouchonne]

The shell is lifted; the pebble is not there.

[sulahnan]

She purses her lips in thought and looks at the other shells, then up at Byerly. Dubious.

"...It's in your hand, innit?"