A Fluency in Truancy

[rassafraggin]

The artificial boost to the buildings' height as they travel the sunken lane also works to reduce adults in relative proportion until even Merrisol is kid-sized with the gates and fences looming over him, their latches and ledges hanging out of his reach. Good thing they are still holding hands in this urban storybook story; to children, the voracious trolls outlined in shadows are very real indeed. He squeezes her hand as they trek through the cool layers of cast overlap, some corner pockets dissolved into depthless, bruised purple patches.

"The older ones are usually good about rotating look-outs. It's possible they're between postings," he says, too hushed at first, until he finds a comfortable murmuring volume for the acoustics of the lane. The way looks a little more familiar now when they follow a bend in the path into a length of sunlit walls and gleaming terraces. Just another block before a way opens into a cul-de-sac where the lane splits around a wedge-shaped three-storey building, each leading to their own dead ends. Merri, never one to sneak up on allies even in jest, pauses, listens hard for activity ahead, and whistles a quick snatch of bird song. Seconds march by in silence.

As their lane lowers and the buildings seem to grow taller, their shoulders hunching against the sky, Maggie unabashedly or unconsciously shifts closer to her taller, more able-bodied companion. Perhaps she feels less tiny next to someone whose size she knows so well. The squeeze is returned and she flashes him a grateful smile, her eyes alight with the implied potential for mayhem or adventure. It is an almost childlike excitement that grows within her gaze, the sort relieved by faintly whispered secrets or giggles shared over hot chocolate in blanket forts. The difference is that there the danger was not as potentially real.

She nods once, her gaze leaving him to flit about to seek out likely look out nooks. "Yeah, let's hope that's all it is." It is a murmer, perhaps to softly spoken for the muffling acoustics of their urban blind canyon. Then comes the more familiar way, the path's bend opening into sunlight and sparkle. She almost picks up the pace as the gloom of their approach is eased. Her hand tightens on his again when he pauses and whistles. Expectation of response makes the seconds seem to take an age apiece. All the while, she flickers her eyes here and there, trying to catch the first motion that heralds their young friends' approach.

He waits until the notes of his inquiry echo their last, and shakes his head. "They must not be inside. Perhaps..." But there are always a good handful of possible perhapses. None convincing enough to turn away now and maybe try again later, despite all his claims of respecting their autonomy. He starts them forward again to make a quicker approach.

Notes clear and agile climb and chime out a surging and fading series, the last few a descending triad, breaking decidedly away from the chickadee's refrain it had resembled. Merri halts again, lips pursed then pressing into a thoughtful frown. "That was code for 'no visit today'.. except. Only partially." Had the tune seen so little use perhaps, that its notes had now been misremembered or mutated? "Those last notes weren't part of the tune."

While the expectant silence grows, worry congeals in Maggie's core and lies there like a spiritual bread pudding that has absorbed the wrong amount of rum. She nods to his surmised 'perhaps', unable to latch onto the one that might explain their situation. Nibbling her lower lip, she considers abandoning caution then is relieved when he does before her. It is occasionally good to know that he is human.

Stepping forward, awash in newly freed notes, she allows the beginning of a smile that stills when Merri halts, drawing her to a stop by their still clasped hands. She tilts her head a bit, her gaze slipping up along the side of his profile when the triad breaks the pattern. The tip of her tongue touches her lips as she considers, then asks softly, "Is it part of something else? They could be weaving a new meaning by blending two."

He looks back at her, taking her meaning in and attempting to match that superfluous sequence. "..Yes. A downward scale, of the hermit thrush. One that I would use, from some further point away," he says. "To tell them: Stay inside." Obviously when there is some danger of unwanted discovery.

Inhaling, she nods, "K. Then. No visit today or there will be unwanted discovery. Or. No visit today because of an unwanted discovery." She turns her gaze more slowly around the area, eyes flickering from windows to rooftops to doorways, "Do you have a whistle that asks for clarification? And... if we are being watched by people unfriendly to our friends, we should come up with another excuse for being here."

The shuttered windows and sealed doorways are resolutely devoid of answers. Merrisol considers the suggestions quickly while explaining, "These signals weren't meant to operate in lieu of a conversation.. filling a city street with a variety of twitters would be glaringly unwise." He mutters, "No visit... stay inside. No.. visit stay inside." Just a small change in emphasis and ellipsis does seem to suggest different meanings. "Visit.. could substitute for 'visitor'," he muses. "No. Visitor stay. Inside." He looks at her, frowning over the ominous take on that new phrasing. With a tip of his head, he invites her to go forward with him into the cul-de-sac. Guessing games are fun and all, but he's done playing.

Maggie's attention strays around the area again while his musings shift and change, meaning flowing with punctuation. Green eyes, shrouded with concern, meet his and she nods at the head tilt, "Yeah. Let's see what this is all about." Resolute, she squeezes his hand lightly and starts off with him toward the cul-de-sac. Ahead, sunshine glows in a pool of radiance amid the more dismal shadows and elevated doorways.

The sunny patch they duck through sparks fire and glow in their hair and warms their skin for the last time that day. The way leading to dead-ends is a spot almost perpetually in cloaked in the cast shadow of raised storehouses, except for an hour in the morning when the sun is at just the right angle to run the gauntlet twisty alleys and looming structures to smack the brownstone dead on. The lamps inside are extinguished but for a single one set back on the main floor, and it flickers as outlines dark across its light, after Merri and Maggie round the corner.

"It didn't work. Huh," a familiar brash voice is heard professing ultra-casual bemusement.

"Ah, doesn't matter much. They seem like good ol' cats t' me." That voice isn't familiar.

Movement at the doorway, then one by one, Gaberal, Wilhelmina, and Patrick file out to stand in a sort of reception line, tension, expectation, and wariness drawn on their small faces respectively. "Prof-K, ya not hearin' them notes right, did ya?" says the wild-haired urchin, mangling that sentence about as badly as she can in front of her erstwhile teacher and his redhead love interest. Mina's OTP! But as she speaks she is gazing intently, with brows waggled high.

Kerf stands there a moment, gazing at them studiously, before he looks just at Mina, frowning. "I believe that I did, Mina," he says slowly. "I admit I may have mixed it up, good and proper." Mina tilts her head and smiles all child-craftily.

"Ah.. well that's what happens when you stop comin' round regular." Gaberal's lapse in structure and impertinence, however, contains no artifice. On Mina's other side, Patrick glances between the two adults while gnawing his lip indecisively.

Hearing the voices, Maggie lofts one brow both at the words and the sentiment displayed. She sidles a glance toward Kerf, though it is interrupted when the kids come out of their place. Delight at seeing them fades when she hears Mina and Kerf exchange that first salvo. Lifting her free hand, she pushes a lock of hair over her shoulder. The other remains clasping Kerf's, the touch gentle and natural. So, Mina can feel a sense of 'told ya so'.

When Gabriel chimes in, Maggie can't stop the wince that the solid reality in his voice is heard. It is what happens when one stops visiting. Sidling a glance up at Kerf, she offers him a soft smile but speaks to the others as her gaze refocuses on them, "It is good to see you again. We have some stories to tell, if you want to listen. True stories, which are always the best kind. May we share them with you?" After her attention flickers to each of the boys, it centers on Mina, "Please."

Kerf heard what the boy said as well, except he seems to have put it to one side in his determination to discover just -what- has developed during the time they'd stopped visiting. His mouth barely brims at the edges while Maggie gives them an offer to consider, although he can't help but notice Gabe's resentment ramp, even while Mina's eyes light up a little. At that point, his own brows wince, drawing up closer together. He starts to shake his head at Gaberal, then stops for fear it might be misinterpreted.

"Hey, we got stories too, Lady Red Head," Mina grins fiercely. "Only fair we take turns.."

"No..!" Gabe blurts to his younger cohort, turning on her in surprise and consternation. Like this wasn't part of The Script, or something.

"Gaberal! Ain't ya even curi-ass?" Mina shoots back, glaring with all her might, trying to drill her own version of The Script past that sullen boy brow.

"Maybe, you could come back later..?" Patrick finally ventures, while the other two set to quarreling.

"..Nnnuh!" That was from inside the re-purposed cafe, and a heartbeat later a small bundle of rag cloths barrels through the doorway, scattering the others with a pinball-esque bunting, and then breaking free to make a run at the grown-ups. For a second her ultimate target is random and wavering... then Sela veers and charges at Maggie, flinging her grimy tear-streaked self at the woman. "Dunn goo!" One could almost hear Jau Yee and Walter chorusing: She talked! although that is possibly fanciful. Surely Sela talks by now..?

Kerf starts to go to one knee in reaction to the young child's flight path, but straightens again and releases Maggie's hand if it hasn't already left, when Sela makes her decision. He watches a moment, displeasure freezing his features, although that may be due to the neglected appearance of the little crew's youngest.

Maggie smiles at Mina as she seems to accept the offer, "Deal." Gabe's negation and the resulting argument gives her pause. She nibbles at her lower lip though shakes her head at Patrick. The sound coming from within the building catches at her heartstrings and she takes a half step forward, her hand releasing Kerf's. As Sela darts out of the building, Maggie's eyes open wide and she begins to fade back to give Sela a clearer path to her target.

Realizing almost too late that the girl is aimed at her and not Kerf, Maggie kneels and extends both arms to catch the child in a warm embrace. One hand lifts to the girl's head, cradling it against her while the other wraps about the small form and holds her close, "We are not going anywhere, Sela." Her tone is gentle, "It's okay." Lifting her gaze, she focuses on the older children, "What, exactly, is going on?"

The others are arranged in a stunned tableau, the outburst so unusual that they are taken right out of their squabble and just about turned on their heads with the sudden urge to fully recant their former respective opinions just to appease the baby of the group. "..Come inside," Gaberal says, defeated. "And see for yourselves."

"Or, a walk?" suggests Mina, uncharacteristically uncertain. "We oughta all take a walk. See yer boat again, mebbe."

Patrick simply looks at them both in confusion, turns, and trots back into the dim interior. He can be heard asking for the lights to come back on.

Sela's matted hair rubs Maggie's cheek as the child first tucks her face into the crook of the woman's shoulder, then drags it the other way, smearing as she goes, to look in Kerf's direction, or will be when she unscrews her eyelids. Her snug around Maggie's torso carries the staying power of the mighty Howler Monkey. A pathetic snivel escapes when Kerf's big hand settles on the top of her head, and his thumb brushes tears from her turned cheek, along with a layer of dirt, as he lifts away again while starting forward.

"We wear steel, but will not draw," he says, his voice lifting and carrying as only a first mate's can. "I only want to see the children, all of them, first and foremost. Then... we will see." He may not be able to control the look on his face, but his vocal expression is calm and unwavering. Still. He is so angry right now.

Holding Sela against her, smears and all, Maggie rises. She lifts a look to Kerf, perhaps more serious than any he has been privy to. Anger roils within, crisp and hot, but currently contained. Turning as Mina speaks, she offers the girl a soft smile, "Maybe later..." Patrick and Gabe are also offered smiles, encouraging and as certain as an adult can be when all of the information is not present. At least it offers them no censure or blame.

As Kerf moves forward, she holds back just a half a heartbeat to shift Sela gently to one hip. She does not move to set the child down, though the shift does give her one hand free, should something more than steel be needed. Then she steps off to walk with her Kerf forward, anger building with each step.

Sela resists the repositioning for a couple of attempts, uncomprehending of Maggie's good intentions. But as she is not secretly Oberspawn, but merely a super-stubborn differently-abled tyke, she does eventually have to grant allowances for comfort.

Mina quirks her brows at 'maybe', but nods, turning to fall into step with Maggie. Gaberal has already done the same with Kerf, ducking in ahead of him as they reach the doorway.

The diffuse shadows plaguing the area retreat in a startled jerk as a lamp flares just in time for them to get better details of what they have walked into. The small cafe space had been neat, tidy, and filled with personality in its crafty, exuberant decor. Now it's just another vandalized seasonal business in the lower city. Crafts hanging the walls have a stale, droopy look about them, having hung in that spot for a bit too long. A few new art creations are piled amongst raw materials in one corner, forgotten as the dust coating the baseboards. Used cookware and compost occupy the counters, and the cluster of patio tables is covered with a few day's worth of meals, the dishes shoved aside to make way for the next day's.

At the table, by the light of the lamp there, a young fellow of perhaps 13 or 14 years, sits a chair against the wall and idly chews a cinnamon stick. His dark hair is chopped to different lengths so that various patches tuft outwards instead of down. He wears the dull jerkin and leggings of the typical commoner thug, although he gazes upon the new visitors amiably, if somewhat carelessly as well.

He flutters his fingers in a small wave, shrugging as Kerf passes eyes over him without stopping, on their way to pick out the other children present. Patrick is here of course, crouching by Jau Yee and Walter, who had been napping on a couple of cloth flour sacks. Neither look as ill-tended as Sela. Kerf looks them over as they sit up, blinking in the renewed light, then goes over everything again. "Sofi," he states, with another step in, lining up with the kitchen doorway to gaze through, finding no sign of movement within.

Quick fingers find and tug at Maggie's sleeve, as Wilhelmina inclines her head sharply upward, glancing to the ceiling.

Stepping into the room, Maggie squints once to accustom her eyes to the sudden light. Her gaze moves slowly around the room, taking in the way trash has accumulated, food is wasted and the decorations the clever children had taken such pride in left to rot and ruin. By the time her eyes land on the older fellow, there is a dangerous sort of glitter to the emerald. She takes his measure in the way that only one dangerous person can evaluate another. When she has what she wants of a visual inspection, she turns to offer Jau Yee and Walter each a smile. Kerf's single word sends a stab of fear into Maggie's gut and her eyes rescan the room, this time searching for the missing child.

Looking down quickly as Wilhelmina touches her sleeve, Maggie's glance flickers upward. She nods and reaches down to take Mina's hand if allowed as she turns for the stairs. She does not speak to the thug sitting by the table, but the glance she spares him promises a slow and very painful end should there be trouble with Sofi. "Back in a moment."

Kerf catches the gist of Mina and Maggie's silent communion from the edge of his periphery, and his gaze arcs ceiling ward. The progression of thoughts is quick enough and to say he looks rather pale and ill by the end would be a kindly understatement. At that moment, the teenaged waster pipes up, asking, "How goeth the wartime, Cap? I hear the upper city's set to fall. They blew the glass dome, right?" Kerf barely sees Maggie, Mina, and Sela off to the stairs, before the full weight of his focus turns on the nonchalant youth. "Stand up," is all he says.

The next level up is a short hallway of three doors, with one sitting chamber in front, overlooking the street outside. The day shadows are a little better here, and aside from the two loveseats angled towards the window, there is a long coffee table currently holding a collection of wine and liquor bottles, and smoking implements. Despite the levels of alcohol still present in the open bottles, it's the reek of stomach acid that assails the nose first. It's a good bet that beyond one of those seats, a pool of vomit lies unmopped.

Leaving Kerf downstairs to deal with the miscreant, Maggie and company move up to the hall above. Taking in more of the accumulations of garbage, the vandalism and depredations of carelessness. While she moves, she murmurs to Sela and holds Mina's hand. When they reach the upper landing, she gently releases Mina's hand so she can be ready at need. Her nostrils flare as she scents that acrid smell and she murmurs to Sela to climb onto her back and hold on. That will leave both of her hands free.

Beyond one of the doors, there is murmured conversation, a male voice suggesting that moving on might not be such a bad idea after all. A girl's voice complains that they could have had it good for at least another couple of weeks. The door opens inwards and the fellow, a few years older than the one downstairs by the looks of it, steps out while tugging his shirt hem, still talking to the girl inside and thus not spotting Maggie straight away. Following him, however, the young woman (not Sofi) does, and squeaks a warning.

Hearing the conversation, Maggie glances at Mina and speaks quietly, "Stay behind me, ready to get Kerf if there is need." Turning her gaze on the two semi-pre-adults coming out of the room, she fixes them with a slow appraisal, "Stand away from the doors but make no move to the stairs." Her tone is cold and precise, soft with fury. She glances into the room, seeking Sofi in that dimmer recess. "Which room, Mina?" There is a brittle quality to her tone and a stray gleam of sunlight reflected and refracted untold times from an uncertain direction kindles the gleam of fire in her hair.

The young man jumps back and almost knocks his friend over. "How th' never-livin'.." he starts, but then his jaw kind of drops and his words peter out. He sidles along the wall, away from the door, then pauses. The young woman doesn't seem as impressed by Maggie's deadly tone or the glint of a waiting spark in her hair. "Who're you, the good proprietor of this cozy hovel?" she backtalks, glancing daggers at Mina and why not, Sela too. "We ain't been doin' nothin' but squattin' like these little dears were doin'!"

Sela gazes at the two over Maggie's shoulder, and might have hissed if she could have. Mina sticks behind Maggie in body, but her wildly curly head is kind of a free agent, and floats out to scan the doors with a frown. "That one's our room," she points to the recently vacated one.

A low moan issues from beyond one of the love seats, and after a moment a slim hand reaches up to grasp the top of the backrest. Sofi drags herself up into view, face ashen and gaze uncertain. Some half-wet, half-dry stuff mucks one side of her mouth. She blinks across at the group on the landing, and after staring in blank surprise at Maggie, she bursts into tears.

Maggie watches the two and nods to Mina when she indicates their room, "Okay. First, are there any others, please? And second, nip down and tell Professor K that he will be joined by two others. " Then she turns to focus on the young woman. Ignoring the question of her identity, she laughs and the sound is ice licked by flame, "Just like these children? If you really believe that you are blind as well as stupid. Nothing you have done here has any value. Where they were living, learning, growing, you are destroying, drifting, dying." She takes a step toward the young woman, "Now, go on downstairs and do what you are told to do. Professor K said that we would not bear steel and we won't." She twitches two fingers, drawing the air from both of their lungs and holding it from them, "Just remember. I don't need steel. I can kill you with my mind."

The moan catches her attention and she turns a glance that way. Seeing Sofi covered in vomit and filth almost ringed by those bottles, she pales with fury. Turning to the pair of near-adults, she gestures with her head toward the stairs and allows their breath again, "Get. Out. Of my sight before I ignight you where you stand." Then, assuming that they will do as they are told she hurries to Sofi. As she moves, she keeps Sela shielded from the older kids. Kneeling in the muck next to Sofi, she uses a corner of her own shirt to wipe the girl's face, then pulls her against her in a hug, "It's going to be okay, Sofi. Come on. Let's get all of you out of here."

"That's it, there's one 'nother but he booked more'n a day ago an' ain't been back." Mina steps out from behind Maggie, heading for the stairs, the moan freezing her in her tracks for but a second. She only needs to glimpse Sofi's hand clutching over the backrest, then she's running quietly down the steps as though she doesn't want to see any more than that. Her run-on sentence structure can be heard assailing Kerf, followed by the sounds of furniture scudding and falling over and a tumult of raised voices, one of them belonging to Gaberal. All drowned out after a few seconds by Kerf's command voice: Try that again and I'll send you upstairs. You don't want to go upstairs just now.

Meanwhile, the older teen boy and girl stagger a bit in doubt, then realization, then near panic, when they find themselves unable to draw breath. They stare helplessly at Maggie, and if they hadn't been eager to go down and meet the mysterious Prof K they've been hearing about, they are now.. only they have to get past Lady Red first. Once she moves past, and air rushes back into their lungs, both go gasping and stumbling down.

Sofi stands away from the couch, arms out from her sides so her shaking hands don't come in contact with her fouled paisley apron dress. She tries to speak through her tears but only sobs harder when Maggie gathers her up. "Please, Miss Maggie, your nice shirt! Now we are both dirty!" she wails, then dwindles into quiet mumbles, "I... I only wanted to tidy. I didn't want to drink, the bottles, they're from the cellar, we don't take from the cellar, but they didn't care.." It doesn't take much more urging to get her walking along, although she shivers at the idea of going downstairs. So dirty down there.. just like her.

Maggie does not give the older kids even a flicker of attention for now, though she did cock her head to listen to the sounds from below. Kerf's voice sparks a fierce smile though it fades in an instant. Instead, she shrugs at Sofi's concern, "It'll wash so don't worry about it." Taking in the child's condition, she sobers farther, "It's okay. They were wicked, Sofi but I don't think they meant harm. But..." Her tone grows gentle, "I need to know, dear one..." Her tone is gentle, warm, worried and nothing like the older girl's. "Did any of them hurt you or the others?" With the awareness of Sela still clinging to her back, she speaks more carefully, "Did they touch you guys where they shouldn't?"

Turning a little, she rubs what she hopes is a reassuring touch of her cheek against Sela's head before looking at Sofi at that shudder. While she does listen for a reply, she speaks very quietly, "Listen to me, Sofi. You too, Sela. I don't care what they did to your wonderful place. They were wicked and naughty and not at all grown up. You and your family here are wonderful people. We're going to take you back to my ship, let you get all cleaned up with some new clean clothes and good food. This... mess... It isn't you. Don't let it define you." Okay, so then she hushes to listen to the very important answer.

One cheek rub later, Maggie collects a little more grubby on her person. Sela hasn't said anything since her mad dash outside, and continues in that vein, chin hooked over Maggie's shoulder and gaze resting on the faint gleams of the assembled bottles. Pretty.

Leaning back enough to blink away tears and gaze timidly at Maggie's face, Sofi shakes her head slowly, and then looks a bit puzzled by the follow-up question. "No-o-o.. well. They have pushed and grabbed, but not to hurt, I.. I don't think. Franze held my arm so I couldn't leave and I would share their drinks, but then I... I. I threw up so he let go," she explains miserably, eyes welling up again. "I can't remember anything else. I think I fell down.." She looks around the room. "Can.. Can I clean up before we go?"

Maggie does not mind the grubby at all. Well, not yet. She might later when the kids are safe and clean and fed and put to bed. Not now. She searches Sofi's eyes as she speaks and the flicker of her anger rises, muted behind her concern for the kids. As she hears the girl out, however, she speaks softly, "In this one case, I am glad that you threw up. I am sorry that they made you share their drinks, though. Alcohol isn't bad on its own. It is like anything else, though... Too much is bad for you and it can be used to cause harm." Then she shakes her head once, slowly, her expression thoughtful, "No, Sofi... At least, not yet. First, I want to at least try to get those cretins to do it. If they won't, we'll come back and do it together. This isn't your mess, but I am proud of you for wanting to clean it up." Rising gently, she offers Sofi a hand, "Now? It is time to scare the crap out of those punks. Ready?"

Sofi finally reaches up and at least brushes off the flakes of dried gunk on her jaw, at least. She looks reassured, mostly by the notion that one way or another, the place will be clean again. She hesitantly puts her hand in Maggie's, wondering, "Yes... but how? Gabe tried and tried, but he couldn't make them go. They weren't even scared when he said you and the Professor were coming back.. but that was days ago." She goes along with Maggie, casting a wistful glance at the open door to the girls' bed room. Probably a good thing she won't be going in there just now.

Maggie hurries Sofi past the bedroom and toward the door, "Ah, don't worry about it, Sofi. The two that were up here are already a little scared of me. By now, the guy downstairs is probably a little scared of Professor K. We'll do what we can and either way, we're taking all of you to my ship for a bit." Reaching the stairs, she lifts her free hand back to snug Sela a bit closer, "Hang on, Sela." Then she walks resolutely down the stairs, her eyes flickering to the walls where the decaying art hangs forelornly, to the piles of trash in the corners and, finally, lifting to find the older children. By then, she has hidden the relief that Sofi and the others were not hurt, the look in her eyes one of flame and bones blackened and lying forlorn and unmorned in the sun. That is not the look Kerf gets. For him, she allows some of her other emotions out. The relief is there, a brief, bright flicker. The anger returns in a crashing fire when she seeks the punks again.

Patrick has the other little ones packed off to the other end of the cafe, away from the tabled area where the teen hoodlums are now warily clustered... and the girl is restating her original case, as though hoping to get a different answer out of Kerf, playing Dad against Mom type thing. "..so they're not supposed to be here any more'n we are. Way I see it, you got no right tryin' an' pinnin' this place on us! Bring the Gulls in, go on, we'll take you all down with us!" The boys look edgy, even the younger apathetic one, watching for indication that her argument/threat has gotten through to the man blocking their path to the door. Their cue to take advantage of weakness and break through the lines.

While the logic definitely has a basic truth to it, and Kerf is really not good at veiling his reactions, he remains stern-faced and unwavering of gaze. "Wielding the law of the city as it suits your purposes.. a 'B' for execution, but effectiveness? Please try again," says the Professor. His gaze tracks over to the stairs as Maggie, Sela, and Sofi appear, concern and assurance lending depth to the light tint of his eyes. He lingers a moment over Maggie, taking the relief in her for his own, and letting some breath out quietly though his parted lips, but watching the rage mount when she looks at the intruders. He looks at them too, then, sees the way the older two lose their crafty composure when they spot her. "We follow our own rules here," Kerf continues. "You take it - you replace it. You break it - you fix it."

The youngest thug eyes his companions oddly. He has a small patch of welt colouring his left cheek red... but... Kerf? No way. Gaberal and Mina stand with him, and Gabe seems to be nursing his right fist. There. "Clean up this shite? When the city's falling an' we're clearing out anyway?" scoffs the teen. "That's stupid."

Maggie takes in the tableau, then moves closer to Kerf. She faces the thugs, Sela supported on her back and Sofi by one hand. Nodding to Kerf, she narrows her gaze, focusing on the older kids, "I think you mistake the good Professor." Her voice is low and almost too reasonable. "We are not asking. And you do not have a choice." Looking at those she did not draw breath from earlier, she nods toward those she did, "You will do as we say. You will clean this place up. Because if you do not?" She flickers two fingers again, drawing air from their lungs, though not as much as before, "Now that I know what your breath feels like, I can find you anywhere in Shadow. I can pull the air right from your bodies. You cannot run. You cannot hide. I don't have to be near you. I don't even have to be in the same Shadow." Then she releases the air and lets it flow naturally. "So... You will clean this place up. You will put it back into the same condition it was in when you arrived or better. And then you will be given a choice. I won't tell you what that is until we see whether you are worth it or not." She looks at the girl then, "You have the native intelligence. Let's see if you have the guts."

Standing near Kerf, he might feel her rage mount as she speaks for then she turns to look at the boys. "Which of you is Franze?" Her glance drops to Sofi, as though trusting the child to tell her over the word of the thugs.

The kids.. and the Kerf.. listen and watch in fascination as Maggie details her terrifying abilities and demonstrates her willingness to carry out her threats. Gabe blinks, and studies the way the older kids simultaneously look rather uncomfortable, struggling to reclaim full breaths. His own gaze grows bright with vindication, barely containing his expression as he looks forward to their response. Sofi, armed with the forewarning that Maggie's words are a scare tactic, merely frowns at the youths, her big weepy 'how could you' eyes being especially incriminating evidence of their wrong-doing. Still, she hesitates when asked to point out Franze, timidity taking over. Mina mouths, 'woowwww', unabashedly staring at Maggie, though whether she has been totally snowed by the claims or is simply impressed with Lady Red's bravado, she reveals not. Patrick, Jau Yee, and Walter missing out on much of everything except the words, exchange wide-eyed glances. Sela, head still perched on Maggie's shoulder amongst the red waves like a surrogate parrot, says, "...him's Franze," whilst staring at the youngest thug. He frowns, worriedly.. whoa-what -now- that kid talks?.. and protests, "Hhey.. whatever you're freakin' about, lady.. she's lyin'.. I didn't do nothin'." He backs up, hands coming up as though to fend off more flying fists. His dagger sheath is already empty, a brief tale of forcible disarmament told by the glint of steel in the corner.

Kerf doesn't look all that comfortable himself, although his held breath is self-inflicted only. Whether he takes the staggering extent of Maggie's magic ability to heart or not, after absorbing it all, he glowers at the youths with reluctant concern. And if he's worried about their health in spite of everything, those claims must be true!

"Sure.. whatever, you know, we'll wash up, get rid of the mess," squeaks the girl hastily, "c'mon lady, three cleans faster than two."

Anger flares anew as Franze is pointed out. Maggie does not leave Kerf's side. Instead she lets her gaze follow the boy as he backs up. She holds still as stone, still as a statue, letting him soak in the depth of her fury. When the girl speaks, she darts the same glance her way then looks back. Then, she speaks and her voice is softer, "She does not lie, but you just did. You held Sofi's arms and made her drink. What were you meaning to do to her?" Her gaze narrows, "Pay attention to how you feel now because that is how she felt."

Taking a long, slow breath, she tightens her hand on Sofi's just a little. The squeeze is an easy thing, gentle. It seems to steady her a bit, though she still focuses on Franze more than the others. Then her gaze abstracts and she looks at each of the thugs in turn before turning to the other small ones. Finally, she turns to look up at Kerf, "What say you, Professor?"

Touche'. Franze's back hit the wall a moment or so before the lesson is learned. Maybe. He looks uncomprehending at first, then it dawns that he is still breathing and no part of him has burst into flames.. he'd only felt very very.. helpless and trapped. He darts a glance at Sofi for a moment. If there is any empathy in him, however, he lowers his head and scowls it at the floor.

Kerf's careful regard for their 'captives' dissolves like mist as Maggie speaks to Franze, and he fixes the youth with an unfriendly snarl to his expression. His hand curls unconsciously into a large fist, knuckles paling. Beside him, Gaberal looks up, grimacing, and shakes his head. This time, it's his turn to diffuse the conflict. Kerf takes note of that, pauses, and is in position by that point to receive Maggie's prompt. He gazes at her, steadying himself, then cuts his gaze sidelong towards the interlopers. "I say, get to it. You have until tomorrow evening to make it right."