It's Not On.... Ohhh It's ON!

[rassafraggin]

It is, after a rather lovely day in Carcil City, dinner time. There's few enough places to get a decent meal in the frontier town, and mercifully two factors have made dining a little less onerous. The hotel dining room has re-opened, with lovely new decor, and none of the last group of miscreants and quirky types have actually been banned from it. Miss Shiona Pryce has cleaned up for dinner, with her sword and carpet bag eternally in her presence, and a lovely book to enjoy at the table. While it might be seen as poor manners elsewhere, and indeed, here as well, the lady smith seems content with that level of scandal for the moment. She has been seated at quite a generously sized table for only her, and while her dinner hasn't' arrived yet, she's got a glass of wine to savour while reading. It is, for the moment, downright civilized.

It must be the day for reading for that is what Melina is doing. Her dress serviceable by Amber standards is perhaps a little off of Begman dress and if not the curious way with which she eyes her environs once she pries her nose from the book marks her as not from around here. After a moment's reflection she enters the hotel.

It is a rare occasion, indeed! Disillusion Valentino, who had practically shut himself inside of doors either in his own hotel room or at a small, ramshackle barn he had rented down the strip, had finally completed his latest creation! As such, it was time to celebrate. First, of course, there was the matter of dinner. A crisp, clean shirt, a freshly laundered jacket, a fresh shave, and his hair slicked carefully into place. In just this fashion the Begman playboy makes his way into the dining room, scanning it over upon entry. The familiar form of Shiona draws his eye first and a brilliant smile immediately breaks out across his face. "Miss Shiona Pryce. What an unexpected pleasure to see you this evening." With one hand he gestures toward her expansive table and with the other he discretely checks his pocketwatch. "Tell me, would I possibly be able to convince you to share your company and your table for the evening?"

The Broadstreet's back in the dining room business, you say? That must mean it's about time for Captain Merrisol to ride back into town! This time he's brought his posse with him; four professionals civilly-dressed in Begman travelwear, though some exhibiting more ease in the saddle than others. The clopping of five sets of hooves is only somewhat notable on the commercial artery through Carcil... the pale dirtcloud they collectively raise only adding to the general dustiness of a town in a state of perpetual boom. The horses slow from trot to walk as Merrisol's stallion guides the group to the hitching rail set towards the corner of the hotel's attractive face with the tallish dining room windows and the balcony stretching fully across the third storey front suites. The party dismounts and indulges in a weary stretch while the most seasoned two tether the reins, after which they mosey along the sheltered porch towards the lobby doors.

A glance towards Melina as she enters, and Shiona offers a shy little smile towards the woman dressed not /quite/ in local fashion. That smile turns to a blush as she is graced with the brilliant smile from Disillusion, and she gestures expansively at the table. "Please, do join me, Mister Disi. I.. had heard you had stayed on in town." Her book is set down, a bookmark carefully making the page. The cover is clearly old, the gilt on the letters worn off. Some sort of historical tome. "I hope you are well?"

Melina has met Disi a few times and and has already marked him as someone who likes to talk, mostly about himself. Hailing from Amber these days Mel is quite accustomed to that particular predilection and if one is looking for information finding someone with the gift of gab is advantageous, not to mention a familiar face. She approaches the table carefully "beg pardon, I don't mean to interrupt your meal but it's my first visit and i was wondering what you might recommend for food and sights for someone with an interest in history"

A triumph! Lady Luck was on his side tonight! Surely! Disi is even looking quite triumphant as his eyes follow in the direction Shiona's had been only to find... a blonde! Lady Luck was on most *certainly* on his side! His eyes hang about Melina for a second longer than they ought as he lowers himself to a chair, eventually swiveling his smile back toward the smith and fellow engineer. "Oh yes! I am celebrating the completion of my latest project." At this, he looks about with a hand up in the air, snapping it in a resounding manner that is louder than it has any right to be. "Champagne! It is a celebration!" It is as he is turning back from this that he sees Melina has stepped to their table. Thank you, Lady Luck! Everything's coming up Disillusion! He rises immediately from his seat and moves to pull out another chair for her, "My dear Lady, we most certainly do. Why, the Broadstreet has the best meal in town. And, if you would permit me, I would happily coordinate the wine pairings the whole way through?"

The submarine crew barely gets the front doors open to carry their valises into the respectable lobby, when there's hew and cry from across the intersection. The strident call aimed at reaching them before they can hole up: "Why the gumption of some folk! You'd think a Cristholm'd think twice about showin' up 'fore Pringle blood was done soakin' into the earth! An' iffin' she did, it'd be with more'n just four guns this time."

Merrisol pauses on the threshold, gazing at the peaceful pastoral panorama in a hanging oil painting as he notes to no one in particular, "Guns... kindly refrain from pointing out we have but one shooter between us?" Then he pivots and steps back out to the boardwalk to stand beside his navigator and give the caller-outter his one hundred yard stare. Maybe a bit less than one hundred.. intersection isn't really that big.

Melina responds to Disillusion's offer "Why thank you I accept, but i'm a scholar on study tour you see, can't let it all go to my head." She half turns at the commotion outside "Heavens is that typical for around here" she asks the two at the table, turning back towards them

"Please, do join us." Shiona echos Disi's welcome, even if hers is somewhat less exuberant than his might be, that expansive gesture moving towards the chair that Disi has kindly fetched for Melina. At the mention of pairings, she collects up her own wine glass, a somewhat unusual sight at the dinner table for her, to have a sip. The commotion prompts her to pause with glass half lifted and then carefully set it down again. "I think one of our companions has arrived, based on the names being hollered out there."

"Wonderful, wonderful! Oh, I wouldn't dream of such a thing." Disillusion's head cants to one side as he catches some of the calling out from the other side of the street. The replies from Merrisol have him straightening a bit as fight or flight reflexes kick in. "Mmmmm. And he seems to have brought trouble into town once again." Looking back to the two ladies and the potential for a perfect evening, the gears in his head turn quickly and calculate how to handle this all. One step is taken away from the table and closer to the entrance of the modest hotel. "This doesn't sound very good. Fear not, if anything should happen, just stay close and I'll see to it no harm comes to you." Very close! No! Closer!

"One chance! Only chance! Get back on your ponies an' get out. Master Brody's in fittin' for a new vest but I reckon he won't be opposed to dirtyin' it some with shotjuice." The fact that Merrisol's submariners look nothing like hardened hired gunslingers doesn't concern the Pringle men any, and in fact, they're feeling pretty good about these odds. Revenge is a dessert best served at range, with more forks than strictly necessary. The only worrisome one is the captain himself, by the nascent reputation he's garnered in some altercations in and out of town, and also his general towering and sober aspect... but even he does not seem inclined to violence today.

"Simmer down," he calls back evenly. "We're not here to pick over the bones already buried. Would even like to extend a handshake of truce if need be, and have a friendly word with the Pringles. We're seeking old roots, and yours fit the bill." There's a pause as the peaceful offer of negotiation presented seems to stymie the rancher muscle some. To his own companions, Merrisol says more quietly, "Mr. Moore, Mrs. Bergmin, get our bags to check-in? Ms. Cristholm, you go with them."

"Respectfully Captain, you can't trust those Pringle snakes not to take advantage," says Ms. Cristholm as she stays put outside.

Melina blinks a bit as she recognizes the voice, a bit buoyed by the fact the situation may end peaceably, she inches doorwards as the others file in with the bags giving them a nod and peeking cautiously out the door looking behind her to make sure the others are coming

There's a quirk of Shiona's head as she shamelessly listens in, the conversation plenty loud enough to the shared through the plate glass. At least most of it, enough to get the idea that there is unlikely to be bloodshed in the street just yet. "I wonder if Mister Merrisol's companions will be joining us for dinner as well, or just him." She looks to Disi who is heading for the entrance. "Could you check on how many place settings we'll need, Mister Disi?" Her shy smile returns to Melina. "It.. well. er. Hello."

Growing up in towns like this and getting into more than his fair share of trouble in these parts, Disillusion reads the conversation and gets a feeling the familiar voice might be short-stacked at the table. With the blonde wandering that way, he is now obligated to move that way as well! As a proper gentleman! Quick as can be, he begins shuffling on toward the door to stay between any potential danger and the lovely Lady Melina. Along the way, he shoots a look back over his shoulder that announces loudly he will not be inviting these ruffians to the dinner table! A moment later, the Begman playboy slides toward the front door to begin looking the situation over more directly. Hard leather soles announce his presence behind the Dread Pirate Merrisol.

"Fine evening to you, Miss and Sir!" Mr. Moore is not too far into his grown-up face, whiskerless and pink and eager. Just happy to be here, guys! He gamely sidles around people and obstacles, making for the counter with day valises tucked under his arms. Behind him, a sturdy young woman in a riding dress and jacket, dark curls of her up-do gone frizzy from the ride. She carts a saddle satchel and one small case with her, glancing at Disi and Melina with an apprehensive nod. Passing the open doorway to the dining area, she spots Shiona and gives her a quick beam of recognition. Ooh. Oooh. Friendlies. Backup, even! Now, if she can just drag the other lady's name off the tip of her tongue. Shhhh. Shhhyyy. Yes. Shy. Shy Something.

From the vantage of the lobby entrance, there can be seen four cowpokes loitering about with their wagon outside a fine clothier's shop; jerky-mobile mannequins in the display window, demonstrating some appealing eastern fashion for the discerning homesteader. They are packing pneumatic iron openly on their hips, and aren't so pleased to not be given an excuse to whip them out for fancy tricks. Not yet, anyway. "Gonna take a lot more than a handshake to settle scores 'tween us, Cristholm Spinster," is the current growled response. Initially in casual leaning postures against hitching posts and porch rail, the group grows more alert as Disillusion makes an appearance in the doorway.

Merrisol does not rise to the bait. Far too simple a dig and Sara Cristholm is made of stronger sensibilities. She is a straight-backed woman marching somewhere beyond middle-aged, with some skeins of ivory running through her blonde hair and pulled to the nape of her neck in a neat bun so as not to interfere with her riding hat. Also present is a fairly compact gent in tweed, bright-eyed and impeccably deceptive of mien. He is better suited to the subtly threatening travails of the city, but is prepared to try his fists in the uncouth dust of the frontier if it comes to it.

Melina sighs as she greets Moore with a small smile "Good evening, sir. It seems your visit is off to a rocky start. Those gentleman out there could use a change in perspective could they not." She begins to hum softly and then sing, a soft song of a woman waiting for a lover at sea to return home

RPG: Melina declares that she has the Mystery of Mercy (CHA-MM) gift.
RPG: Melina declares that she has the Music of the Universe (CHA-MU) gift.

Merri isn't so worried about his back with comrades present in the lobby, but he moves to clear the area of the doorway as more steps and voices are discerned apart from those of his crew. The soft singing begins to register but its intent has yet to penetrate his concentration. "Not for the armed escort to decide for the foreman," he says steadily in response to his own ranged discussion, watching carefully as the cowboys assume a more onerous stance, and starting to get an inkling that maybe he /should/ be concerned about who's coming up behind him..

Disillusion's smile unveils again as he nods to those he passes on the way out to the doorway, especially to the frizzy-haired woman! But, as he steps onto the front porch planks, his smile is directed entirely upon these disgruntled cowpokes. With a folksy wave, he begins, "Good evening, gentlemen! I say, we were just sitting down to a lovely dinner and I was hoping that you might be able to put this all in the past. There's no need to make a bad situation any worse than it already is, hmmm? I would be most appreciative if you could oblige a fellow in letting him eat in peace!"

RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the Silver-Tongued (PPL-ST) gift.
RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the Spectacular Failure (STY-SF) gift.

There's a slow sigh, and the reality of the mess of whatever is going on outside prompts Shiona to get up from her seat. Clearly, dinner is going to be late. She, and her sword, abandon the table, the comfortable chair to venture out into the lobby. And then to the door to check on how the posturing is going.

Merrisol's expression slides with the realization of Disillusion's presence. He starts to turn then halts on account of not really needing to match the gentile voice to a dapper face. He falls quiet for his half of the shouty match, as the fellow makes with the words and pours more into the exchange than he himself managed. Hrmph.

"This don't concern you, mister," calls one of the ornery guards. All this cross-street nattering isn't want they would prefer when there are offenders to the fine Pringle pride so richly needing a comeuppance... but there is also a tacit priority in minding the boss's coach wagon. And then there is that brash threat still hanging in the intersection. Kind of tricky to back down from that. And then there is that purdy melody wending from the open hotel doors.

The better judgement of one feller kicks in, though. "Mr. Pringle ain't gonna like us fightin' in the street. But he'll hear of this, an' then you'll be sorry you decided on stickin' around." The men gaze balefully at the group now gathered outside the hotel, but for now it seems the situation is diffused enough to withdraw.

Merri gets around to glancing around at Disillusion then. "..Lord Valentine. Good to see you, and good to know the Broadstreet bears no grudges." Then... "Lady Melina.... Lady Shiona," he blinks, reaching up to take off his hat.

That spectacular smile is unwavering as Disillusion stands at the ready to see how the final cards will look when they are revealed. "I wouldn't suggest it, gentlemen. But! I do thank you for sparing my evening." A hand rises, notably not his shooting hand, and delivers another folksy wave on their way off. Once he feels it is safe to do so, he pivots on a heel and nods once to Merrisol. "So what brand of trouble have you brought into town this time around?" His eyes wander to the ladies he had just been about to sit down to a lovely dinner with and then dart back to the submarine captain as he sighs and wanders on back in. His luck had run out! "Perhaps you ought to join us for dinner and fill us in?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Merrisol comes into the dining room a short time later with his crew, having secured their lodging somewhere upstairs. The four of them take over one of the nearby tables, while Merri approaches the one occupied by Shiona, Melina, and Disillusion. "Howdy again, all of you." He smiles with easy apology. "Didn't mean to interrupt the supper hour before. Hope everything's back to normal now."

Melina grins "You seemed to have a slightly bigger issue than we did captain? I do hope everything is alright. This isn't exactly vacation on my part, but I wasn't counting on bloodshed"

"I think, Mister Merrisol, that you have quite a different definition of 'normal' than I do." Shiona notes as she gestures to a free chair at the table. "Won't you join us? I.. didn't realize things were still quite so .. messy.. as all of that." She blushes, just a touch, at her own ignorance.

True to his word, Disillusion had paired an appropriate wine with each course that was brought, having raided the dwindling stock of Bayle wines he had brought along with him in one of his steamer trunks. Of course, he also did his level best to dazzle his dining companions with lively conversation. The last of it all had been taken away and he was left with a port and an unlit cigarillo. With a hand that had been twirling the thing about between his fingers, he sweeps it over toward an empty seat and then waves away the apology. "No, no. A regular occurrence in town, really. One of those unfortunate facts of life in the East."

Tipping the air where his hat brim might be if he hadn't already removed it for the dining establishment, Merrisol pulls out a chair on the empty side of the table. "Ah, kind of you.." The invite to sit, anyway. He nods to Shiona, explaining, "The issue of the cattle and the bovine beacons is under official investigation. Don't know if it's that or the blood shed over it that still rankles those folks.." He glances at Disillusion while nudging aside a half-empty bottle left in the free space. "Have you met with harassment or disagreement by the Pringle clan, yourself, Lord Valentine?" He brushes back his jacket to sit, revealing the peculiar handgrip for a handcannon, poking from a cylindrical holster. Iron wrought into a sinuous fishy tail.

Disillusion can't help but chuckle at the myriad of potential causes for the spat while lifting his glass for a sip that he savors. His hand again waves back and forth lightly and then he is making circles in the air with the cigarillo, "Whatever the Pringle boys may or may not have thought of my social encounters with their sister, it was completely innocent. The same goes for their wives, for that matter. And I still contend that their Science and craftsmanship alike are laughable!" The cigarillo is shaken in the air, reinforcing this point before he composes himself and clears his throat. "Perhaps." While iron is being displayed, the Begman playboy's eyes do not go in that direction! No, his peripheral vision is more than enough to see the submarine captain is strapped!

RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.

Melina hms "they seemed the type to enjoy being in a cantankerous state whatever their problem and I seriously doubt they gave a whit about our dinner or your umbrage Mister Valentino. You took something of a risk there. What brings you to Begma on this occasion captain?

Merrisol eases back in his seat a bit to relax, in spite of Disillusion's admission. "Well, I'm sure it was innocent." On the part of the women, anyway. His own spouse having been subject to friendly schmoozling by the self-declared Master Artificer, Merri is afforded some insight on those claims. He ponders over the opinion on the inferior gadgetry for a moment, then looks over to Melina with an agreeable nod. "Investigation into a mystery of a sort, Lady Melina. One of personal import to me. It has led me back to Carcil, unexpectedly, on the trail of... well. Myth and legend." His regard swings back to Disillusion. "Pity neither of us has managed to make a friend of the Pringles, however. A very handy thing about large families with deep roots in the area... they tend to know so very much, in terms of history and who's who." He leans back to wave up the waitstaff taking orders from his crew's table, and requests a straight-up brew from Ye Olde Begomatic.

Disillusion nods in agreement with these assertions of innocence. He listens in to Merrisol's statement of purpose this time around with narrowed eyes, considering it against some of his own academic pursuits of the past months. Finally, as he is lifting his glass for another sip of port, he snorts, "As if such a thing were possible. The Pringle clan is a sorry lot I shouldn't care to get along with much at all!" There is another snort, an assertive nod, and then he tips his glass up to finish it off!

Melina hms "I could consider it odd how much our purposes coincide, but perhaps it isn't so much as we face the same times and troubles. I've taken to researching ancient history of amber and beyond as i believe it may have some bearing on our present trouble. not that I believe in being stuck in the past, but that we forget its lessons at our peril. The balance of power is off. Perhaps we pay too little heed to the old ways."

"Hear, hear," Sara Cristholm chimes in from the crew's table, toasting Disillusion's assertion with a lift of her glass recently poured with sour. Her tablemates, Mr. Moore and Mrs. Bergmin at least, smile uncomfortably, aware than other patrons in the establishment may very well be connected to the affluent ranch and engineering family. Mr. Lockwood stirs his tea nonchalantly.

Merrisol turns squarely back to his own table, after offering his crew a patient look. "You have noble intent concerning humanity and existence in general, Lady Melina. Mine is more of a backtrace into missing persons, one of them being the engineering mind behind my undersea vessel. My... father," he adds cagily. "True, in my search, the knowledge acquired does increasingly feature a past esoteric, all but faded from today's Begman landscape. And yet, not completely."

The nodding continues as Disillusion swivels his gaze over in Sara's direction, clearly the only other person with roots in the area! His empty glass is raised toward her before he sets it back down before him to be bussed and focuses on Melina as she is addressed, "Quite right. A model Lady of Amber!" His nose wrinkles at some of what Merrisol has to say of things from the past that have not quite faded. "Truthfully, I came here as well after the Baroness Raphaela had hurled some slanderous allegations my way regarding one of my earliest creations. I was hoping to prove her wrong and have been following a line of academic research I hoped to disprove."

Melina hms "I thank you for your too kind assessment of my character. It's stubbornness really. My home fell due to the hubris of a few. My own ancestry buried beneath the waves. I will not let another home fall likewise. Amber built its power on the back of other nations. Only a fool would deny this. I simply believe that only a few deserve to pay the heavy price about to be exacted. The rest victim of circumstance. Only by other nations reclaiming their strength to create proper and lasting balance can we all truly survive. The circle is only as strong as its weakest link"

Hah, Raphaela, otherwise known as Rhys Bluebutt, strikes again! It's Melina's statements which lighten Merrisol's expression, however, and he considers the Solaris lady in silence. Looking steadily from one tablemate to the next as motives are laid bare, Merrisol manages to miss the sound of stumbling footsteps in the lobby.

The bellhop lift operator, young Grahm Paprika, evidently late for the evening shift, or perhaps back from his break, strays past the dining room doorway in the direction of the lift.... then circles back to peer in at the salon as mealtime wraps up. He scans... then awkwardly limps for their table.

Only the fool sits with his back to the entrance of any building in East Begma. At least, if one didn't have the aid of the mirror behind the bar! As such, Disillusion has a plain view of Grahm limping on in and his brows knit with confusion. Some manner of political talk is given a polite and distant nod as the Begman playboy's attention is now lost to this new bit of activity. Another gentleman clearly headed toward their table... Luckily, in this case it's the purely innocent Grahm Paprika. No cause for alarm! Straightening some, he says, "Ah, Master Paprika. Is everything alright?"

RPG: Disillusion declares that he has the Escape Artist (STY-EA) gift.