[open]

[lumelume]

WHO: Mado and you!
WHAT: Just a weird asshole causing disturbances in the Gallows and surrounding area, explicitly here to make friends!!
WHEN: Kingsway!
WHERE: Around and about!
NOTES: Possible NSFW depending on who shows up and what their intentions are!

I. The Gallows Courtyard

He hasn't been kicked out yet, so Mado has to make the most of the time he has left. He's not overtly panhandling, but he is busking, with a floppy old hat put out to collect coins while he alternates between doing acrobatic feats and magic tricks, taking breaks to simply shake a tambourine and sing beautiful, plaintive Antivan love songs.
He plays to passersby, strolling alongside them and, at times, offering them opportunities to join.

"A song for you, ser!" he calls, and Maker have mercy on the victim.

II. Lowtown

Hightown being far out of his budget when it comes to entertainment, Mado can be found in some of the slummier taverns, offering services similar to his street busking but with hope of receiving drinks rather than money.

He sits on a table, crooning a drinking song while several of the local boozehounds sway and slosh their mugs around, at least one of them weeping with passion.

His eye is easily caught by a face either familiar or interesting, and it isn't long before he slips over with a bow and a brilliant smile.

III. The Ferry

Periodically, a little brown-and-white spotted dog will hop onto the ferry right behind someone, sitting close and casually looking around as if it belongs to them.
It's the very same dog that been seen wandering around the Gallows, begging and doing tricks for scraps, but the owner, if it has one, has not yet been identified.

Comments

I

[bignasty]

It’s around mid-morning before Dumas has navigated his way out into the courtyard, buttery sun bright off the flash of his jacket buckles and the even steelier grey of his eyes. He breathes in deep, the salt air rolling in across the flagstone, the earthier stink of the stables on the wind, and the tail end of breakfast in the kitchens, all set to the backing track of Mado’s tambourine.

His approach is as meandering as it is inevitable -- slow enough to watch the interaction between this courtyard menace and any passers by before he’s near enough to square up and clear his throat.

“What’s this?” he wonders aloud, one hand to his hip and the other hooked under his scruffy chin, really working the old gears to process what he’s towering over. HMMM.

“Someone’s lost their little hat.”

[lumelume]

Mado always knows when he has an audience, and has had plenty of time to become aware of Dumas' presence. If it bothers him at all, he shows no sign of this, instead giving the tambourine an inviting little shooka as the watchman approaches.

"Begging your pardon ser, but they haven't! That hat is mine," he points out cheerfully.

[bignasty]

Shooka.

“Oh.”

Oh.

“This is your little hat?”

Still not-quite following, Sylvester points down at the hat in question, as if there might be some other hat on the scene of questionable pedigree. For his part, his hair is cocked up silver into a crest, swept back rough from his face and let to do what the wind will have it do. He looks at Mado. Looks down at the hat.

Look back to Mado again.

“You keep coins in it?”

[lumelume]

"Yes," Mado affirms, with a confident nod. Every time he moves, the tambourine jingles slightly.

[bignasty]

"You put them in there?" That seems silly. Dumas furrows his brow, clearly judgmental of a man using a hat in place of a coinpurse.

[lumelume]

"Other people do, when I play songs for them!" Shooka.

Boy, this guy is dense.

[bignasty]

Dumas leans down, just enough to drop his shadow dark across Mado and his tambourine in the morning sun, his long teeth shown out in a hyena’s sneer: unfiltered, unadulterated derision.

“Are you busking in my courtyard, boy?”

He lowers his voice, close enough for Mado to feel the damp of his breath on his face.

[lumelume]

Though he stands his ground, Mado leans back slightly to look up into the towering Dumas' face, his own still a blithe mask of obliviousness.

"Is it your courtyard?" he asks amiably, "it seems quite public!"

[bignasty]

“WELL YOU’RE WRONG,” Sylvester belts, impressive volume bolstered from the diaphragm, enough to flush birds from the ramparts above, and ring at the ears of passers by.

“Clear off. No busking, Watch Captain's orders.”

And he brooms the hat and all associated coinage off Mado’s flagstone stage with a nasty sweep of one boot, sending coppers skipping plinkety plink across the yard.

[lumelume]

Mado's hair blows back faintly when Dumas raises his voice, and he looks quite surprised by all this.

"Watch Captain? Is that you?" He ducks down to start collecting the coins, otherwise completely unbothered-- don't worry, don't worry, this happens all the time.

[bignasty]

Not unlike a man diverting a dog from dropped food it isn’t entitled to, Dumas uses the same boot to impede Mado’s efforts, outright lifting and hurling him back with a shoving kick if need be. These coppers are not for collecting. Not, at least, by him -- though Dumas will stoop for the hat himself, the better to spike it roughly at the lad’s floppy head. Chest. Whichever part of him best presents itself for being struck with a cap in all this shuffling.

“Aye, as a matter of fact it is,” he confirms in the meantime, an effective multi-tasker, obviously.

“These ill-gotten gains are property of Riftwatch now, I’m afraid, Jinglebells.”

[lumelume]

Mado is quicker than the boot, dipping out of the way to pluck up a copper with practiced agility, acting as though there was no such threat. He catches the hat with an excited gasp, dancing about always just out of reach as he drops the coins into it.

"What does the Riftwatch Watch watch?" he asks innocently, "surely not rifts?"