Pringles Rule!

[rassafraggin]

Paprika almost makes it to those tables when he catches sight of another diner, a gent with a pinstriped navy vest and bowler, who is seated at a corner table with a couple of fellow bowler aficionados. Though they have been minding their own dessert aperitifs until now, the bellhop's gangling entrance has drawn their notice. The teen freezes, still a dozen paces out, and quails a moment with indecision. The sallied question must be given response, though. His eyes dart to Disillusion, then to Merrisol, who is getting around to looking his way too. "Oh! Aaah just... just checking? I mean, checking your bags, Mister. You just got here, right? I'll take your bags," he babbles. He's the bellhop, he liiiives for baggage handling!

The transmission in Disillusion's head shifts gears as his eyes roll over Grahm to take in every possible detail. With the hesitation, his baby blues flick over in the direction the young lad's had gone, spying those who made the life choice of being bowler aficionados, and then dart back to him. The cigarillo is given one last twirl before it seems to disappear between his fingers and he surges up from his seat. "Right! Lord Morfilod, shall we show Master Paprika to your bags so he can tend to them?" A hand sweeps on over in the direction of the helpful employee and he begins walking that way immediately in hopes he might be more talkative either in private or at whisper range.

Merrisol looks to be aware there is some manner of shenanigans afoot, clumsily played out on Grahm's part, gamely on Disi's. The bags are already checked and away in their respective rooms! So it's up to him to provide that final touch of plausibility to the act. "..My bags, right." With a nod to the ladies, he pushes away from the table and up, pivoting to fall in step by Disillusion's side, wait, too coordinated, stagger it man, stagger! "And you're coming with.. because I have something of yours, Valentine.. don't I. Yes. That thing. Let's go," he gives poor Paprika a hand in spinning back the way he came, ushering him along to the lobby. Good. Good plan, well executed!

Looking over to Merrisol, Disillusion nods immediately and with enthusiasm, "Hah! You caught me, my good friend. Am I so transparent? After the meal we'd had, I could use one of those cigars you told me about!" Stepping into the lobby, his head turns his head left and right to give the room a quick scan for any signs of what might be afoot that has affected Grahm in such a manner. With that satisfied, he locks eyes onto a spot around the other side of the wall and brightens as if he had just spotted the baggage. Gesturing that way, he steps out of view of the dining room to wait there for the others.

There is a pause. Shiona is not always the most clueful with social cues, and even a hamhanded 'Oh goodness! We should go to the lobby! For reasons!' doesn't always clue in on her radar. Truthfully, radar would be helpful. Still, the boys have moved out of the room, and that usually results in something entertaining, confusing, dire, or merely fascinating. She pushes herself up from her seat, collecting her bag and sword, and without much ado, moves out into the lobby. Few pay attention to her anyhow, even with the sword, there's no need for theatrics.

Melina falls into step with Shiona, it not being an odd thing to thank an evening's companion for their hosipitality " It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Pryce. I hope I have not disturbed your plans overmuch," all the while making her way to the lobby at a pace she hopes registers as brisk but unhurried

The Bowlers watch the exodus none too covertly for a moment, then exchange glances among themselves. When Shiona and Melina up and trail after, some paper money is slapped to the middle of the table, and the party of three rise, brush themselves off, and move to follow.

That is when suddenly a light-footed Mr. Lockwood is bouncing up from his chair and swooping into their path, a quick motion made to adjust his tie. "Ah-bup-bup! Sirs, let's not all rush out at once? People will think there's a fire. Even with that being the case, ladies first, hum?" His quiet, cheery voice bears a brogue and a tinge of menace. He'd not been able to finish his tea.

Mrs. Bergmin blinks at all this, and flusters up from her chair as well, Mr. Moore on her heels. They inadvertently but eagerly cramp Mr. Lockwood's style with a lot of hustle and bustle around their table, wondering over dropped gloves, discussing the division of the cheque, and so forth. Ms. Cristholm sighs, tips back the last of her sour, and stands to stiffly walk from the dining room as well.

Merrisol carefully frogmarches their ally the bellhop away and deeper into the lobby. They join Disillusion by the small lounge area consisting of a loveseat and armchair, a tall cactus and fern planter, and a pillar which conceals the presence of a brass baggage trolley. Setting the kid loose, the sub commander takes a moment to look him up and down. He leads with, "Something happen to your leg, Paprika?"

Grahm pants a bit from adrenalized anxiety, and shudders with relief once safely delivered to a somewhat more private space. "I'm sorry. I should've thought before... oh yeah, guess I must've sprained it a little avoidin' Mr. Brody 'n' company." He gulps as more figures step out of the dining room, but it's Shiona and Melina, and that helps him pull himself together... for the ladies. "So there I was, picking up a fresh uniform at the laundry across the way, and then I saw 'em tucked into that alley beside. There's gonna be trouble.. Pringle trouble. I didn't stick around for the particulars but they need you comin' outta the hotel." He whips a glance towards the lobby doors, shadowy in the evening lamp lights, then says bravely, "Suggest you take to your rooms, Misses 'n' Misters."

Disillusion slides a bit more out of the way as Melina and Shiona both follow along so as to make room for them. His neck straightens and he looks back out through the doors of the Hotel as the plan for a potential ambush is revealed. "Scoundrels. Thinking they could get the drop on you." Blue eyes narrow as the cogs turn faster now and his eyes flick over in the direction of the alley, picturing it there through the walls and pondering the potential ways this could go. "Well. They had their chance to back down. I, for one, won't stand for violence before the ladies. Perhaps..." His eyes wander up and then his smile activates at full power. "Perhaps Master Grahm is precisely correct. I've a mind to get to the roof and perhaps get the drop on them."

Shiona slips in, mostly behind Disillusion, to be truthful, listening. She gives Disillusion a Look at the mention of 'not standing for violence before the ladies'. It seems entirely likely that her sword is not wholly decorative. "A literal drop upon them, Mister Disi?"

Melina ahems "You will let us know if us ladies can be of any use in this situation a distraction , a decoy, one does not come from a military family without some knowledge of self defense, though hand to head against a gun could get sticky,. I've got surprise on my side still"

Merrisol attends the boy's words with a concerned frown... really, sincerely disappointed that the situation has escalated despite his initial entreaties for truce. He looks around at the others as they chime in with offers of support, verbalized or non-, then spies Sara's arrival. They lock gazes for a second, then Merri turns back to persist stubbornly, "Dropping a Pringle or one of their associates won't kill the grudge and it won't be celebrated in a town that relies on Pringle coin. I want their help, not their blood. Should go out and try again to work things through before it all gets further out of hand." He turns at the exit and jawgrinds for a moment. "However.. can't guarantee it won't. Spotters on the balcony or roof wouldn't go amiss," he admits in a mutter.

Meanwhile, back in the dining room, a sound like a fully-loaded ham sammich hitting the wall emanates, followed by a lady's surprised shriek. Raised voices, chairs falling over, and the ballyhoo boils out into the lobby in the form of Mr. Lockwood staggering backward from a thrown punch, catching himself, then getting socked again. One of the Bowler thugs strides through after. His brothers-in-hats emerge moments later, slowed by the mostly ineffectual plate-smashing efforts of Mrs. Bergmin and Mr. Moore.

"Lir's Gears," grumbles Merrisol, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he goes to help Lockwood out.

Melina tries to determine a a way around the gentleman-cum-thugs to check on the status of Mr. Moore and Mrs Bergmin, hoping to use her small frame to went her way through the door umolested

The trio, whatever their purpose in this scheme, do not seem inclined to enact random violence on passerby, and in no time Melina has ducked around the melee to see the remainder of the sub crew hurrying for the lobby as well. There's broken ceramics scattered along the path between tables, the result of some plates lobbed through the air at stomping targets. Most of the dozen guests who had been lingering over their meals have since retreated towards the corners, the kitchen door, or the staircase leading up to the second storey landing. One elderly gent has seen fit to remain at his table and finish off his pot roast no matter what, dadgummint.

"Where's Sara!" cries Mrs. Bergmin. "She's in danger!"

Ms. Cristholm is a bold woman, but she's not fool enough to hurl herself at a pack of pugilistic ruffians on her lonesome. She jogs over to see to Mr. Lockwood after the fluid dynamics engineer takes his tumble over the fancy carpet runner.

As Merrisol consents to spotters, Disillusion snaps his fingers in the air in a resounding and triumphant manner! "Excellent! One never can be too cautious. And even so, it's best to negotiate from a position of strength!" He is about ready to hightail it upstairs when the ruckus from the dining room steals his attention. Most immediately, Disi steps closer to the dining room to place himself between the lady-folk and the Bowler Boys. Holding up his left hand to signal for a stop, he says in a stern voice, "Gentleman, violence is frowned upon inside of the Broadstreet. I will only ask you once to depart. I should hate for this to come to further blows, especially with ladies present." His head cants a bit toward Mrs. Bergmin as she cries out and his lips purse. "The smart play is to leave. Quickly."

Melina pivots to follow the others upon their exitof the dining room and motions them over to the loveseat in the corner though by the tracking of her caze she is sizing the rooms accoutrements fir their ability to serve as either weapons or cover. Fern check. Planter check. Hidden bagage cart check. The chair and sofa could be cover or weapon with a bit of team work between three.

Stepping up behind the lead Bowler, Merri lays a firm hand on his shoulder to yank him back from the downed crew member. The consequent twist and swing is an easily anticipated move, and the pirate leans away to miss it. "Hey now - enough," he grunts, another grab made to scruff the gent by the collar and apply a teeth-rattling shake. But then the other two Bowler Boys are present and fixing to be counted in the mix.

Hearing Disi's admonishments, the men give him an assessing look, but don't actually stop moving for the current tangle. "Be on our way in a tick, peddler," grins one, displaying golden gears inlaid on his eye teeth. "We've some business with these ones, but for you, we'll take it out to the street." And he double-axe handles Merri between the shoulders! Whoof! It doesn't have quite the devastating effect he expected, but it does knock the Captain down to one knee with a groan, lined up for the next blow.

"Look out," yelps Grahm, too late. He's edging forward, trying to work up his gumption to throw in. "They got steel cuffs 'n' other tricks up their sleeves besides! The Saurkrat Triplets," he explains to Melina as she arrives with Mrs. Bergmin and Mr. Moore by the loveseat. "The Pringles' marketin' reps!"

Melina hms "interesting method of persuasion your marketing reps got there. Unfortunately the captain that we might being needing some of their wares more or less. Him being familiar with the area i defer to his judgement. Otherwise I should take my business elsewhere" She glances over to Moore "Am I to understand this mess has something to do with avenging slain kin?"

Moore looks frozen by the brawl, but manages to move his mouth at least. "No one fully expired that I know of, though I was not present for the altercation some weeks back. There were injuries. But it brought in Inspectors from the city to tinker at the inventions in question."

"Oooh, that's even worse than a body in the ground, some cases!" chimes in Grahm.

RPG: Disillusion challenges a difficulty of 9. Disillusion chooses Wits and the gifts BLD-MV, FGT-BT, and STY-DF. Disillusion succeeds.

"Miss Pryce. Lady Melina. Please avert your eyes. I should hate to offend your delicate sensibilities with such a display!" Disillusion's fists come up and his arms curl in the way a pugilists ought when beginning a boxing match and he begins to shuffle toward the Three Marketeers. "You were warned! You have overplayed your hand!" He begins by telegraphing a punch, but instead stomping on the closest Saurkrat's foot! When the reaction to the pain is seen, he follows with a quick jab to the nose and a push on back toward the door. Shuffling into the space he created, he focuses then on the next of the Bowler Boys, switching stances twice to dazzle and distract before setting into a flurry of jabs to push him on back toward the door as well! "Run now and don't you dare stop! You'll get far worse in the street if I manage to catch you there! Ole Pappy always said there ain't no words better said than those in lead and that's just what you'll get!" Disillusion's father had never in his life said this.

Sara helps Mr. Lockwood to his feet while backing off from the epicenter of combat, skirting Disi while he joins in with swift precision. Mr. Moore and Mrs. Bergmin pause to watch the initial blows with calls of wincing encouragement, "Oooh.. good show.. aehhh.. yes, get him.. ayyeee.." Then they hurry to help lay the concussed Lockwood upon the loveseat.

RPG: Merrisol challenges a difficulty of 9. Merrisol chooses Force and the gift STY-SW. Merrisol succeeds.

Merri's down, but when the lead Bowler takes advantage by trying to backhand him to the floor with a judiciously aimed steel-lined cuff, he's ready for it. Dropping lower as though to genuflect on the uber-salesman's prowess, he waits just until the aim goes swishing by, then pistons up and forth with coiled strength in his legs. His shoulder butts into his opponent's solar plexus and drives the man into the wall, flaking paint and cracking plaster. Standing, Merri tucks the winded fellow into a headlock and begins to meander unsteadily doorwards.

A mere two paces from the glass-frosted double doors, the other two fellows of the triplet set have recovered from their respective stumbles, and rear back up to look upon Disillusion with a powered-up venom spitting from their eyes. It's figurative only; their upgrades haven't extended to the peepers yet! "You just made a costly error.." Seeing Merri on his way with their bro, the Saurkrats hesitate on the threshold. May just get half of what they came for, after all!

Melina blinks "You mean they're avenging the loss of likely ill-gotten gains. Speaking of underground that's where my estimation of character has just gone. Were they actually avenging death it may have engendered some sympathy not to mention they fight with no honor." She makes a beeline for the concealed baggage cart and pushes it doorward to block the reentrance of the two outside "Go home boys. Party's over"

OOC> Merrisol says, "They're inside, so you'll be giving them a nudge outside. An 8 should do for both."
RPG: Melina challenges a difficulty of 8. Melina chooses Wits and the gift FTH-DA. Melina succeeds.

The tall brass structure is sort of a rolling cage, sturdy enough to carry the luggages of a party of four or else a number of the chunky prototypes that invariably find their way east. The trolley rattles as it given its rolling start and then sent coasting with angry speed towards the two Saurkrat profit thugs. They're ready to lunge at Merrisol, but in the next moment they're hefting their steel-lined arms to in a hapless, defensive stance. Just in time to get whacked across the shins and midsections by the respective crossbeams. Melina must bowl, her aim is true for the Bedpost Split; their backs hit the doors with a crack, opening them and spilling out onto the planked walkway with a thundering of metal accessories.

The trolley's momentum slows with the transfer of force, strikes and bounces off the door frame with a harmless *boooong*.

Merrisol drags the third brother through the gap without needing to break pace, and lets him fall among his kin while the captain stands on the stoop, sweeping the intersection with a narrowed, glinting gaze.

With swift motions, Disillusion undoes the button on his coat and pulls it back to clear the way to his sidearms. Fingers waggle at his sides, signaling he is more than ready to draw on the lot of them and he alternates an intense gaze between them while steadily walking forward. His eyes widen as Melina comes barreling on through with the baggage cart. "Hah! Take *that*! Well *done*, Lady Melina!" The Begman playboy is shuffling up more swiftly now, ready to help Merrisol should his encounter not go well, but he extricates himself and then the Artificer lets out another cheer. His head pokes out to look about the street, giving it a quick assessment before looking to Merrisol and then ducking back inside. "Still intent on going out there?"

Sunset has befallen the streets of Carcil, although there is enough warm golden light pouring from windows and hanging lamps now, that only the alleys are really concealed in deep shadow pockets... and behind the stylized building facades extending higher than the true roof levels of many a building along the avenue. Townsfolk continue to stroll and ride, but they come and go with silences in between. The ejection of the triplets has drawn some attention, but at a glance it may be difficult to discern between the idly curious and the vigilantly bushwackious.

Merrisol's breathing is deeper while he recovers from the scuffle. He doesn't spare a glance to Disillusion but he nods to the query. "Best settle this while there's still some sun. Otherwise I should take my crew elsewhere so the hotel no longer plays host to this payback nonsense." He pauses, and whether Disi lingers or has already hightailed it to the upper levels, adds, "Give you sixty seconds to get situated, then I'm calling for parlay."

"Sixty seconds..." Disillusion's attention dips down and his hand produces a pocketwatch from a pocket on his vest. A quick press of a button with his thumb pops it open and then he looks back up. "Right. That piece you're carrying, I'm not familiar. Will that be enough, should things go sideways?" The pocketwatch is snapped closed and stowed away in its pocket, only for that hand to draw the sidearm from his left thigh. It gets spun around on one finger before he drops a cartridge out to check the status of the weapon and her ammunition. "I'm wishing I had an Umbrella to hand you for this."

Melina stands watching "Where can I safely watch for ambush. As long as there's a breeze I should be able to communicate with you if i should see something. I should take a position that gives me a different vantage point from Mr Valentine."

"Storm pistol. Showy enough to make folks think twice, though hardly practical in a situation like this." Merrisol does now look over his shoulder, a bit surprised the Artificer is still there. The man's sidearm is regarded studiously, not recognizing the rounds to be of the explosive goo capsule variety. Gazing past Disi, he checks quickly on his crew: Lockwood down for the count, Moore and Bergmin hovering anxiously, useless in a shootout; Sara Cristholm and excitable Grahm Paprika are already pressing the day manager for the rifle or peashooter invariably stored under the counter or in the office. Looking from Shiona to Melina, then back to Disillusion, Merri nods to the latter to work their positions out as they see fit, then reiterates stolidly, "The Pringles aren't outlaws, not yet that I know of. Be careful." Turning away again, he doesn't linger over the matters of law, and who gets protection in Begma generally, and Carcil City in particular. As a former pirate going sort of incognito, he probably has no pull with any sheriff, either.

Disillusion gives a nod in reply, the gives the gun another twirl around his finger before a flick of the wrist turns it around so he can offer it up to Merrisol with the handle facing toward him. "You'll have twelve. I can't imagine anything will last long, if it starts, but it's good to be ready for the worst. I'll certainly wait for them to initiate before responding in kind. Or for a signal." It is offered up to be taken and it hangs there for a moment before he looks to Melina and smiles. "Lady Melina, I know of the perfect place for you to lay in wait. My room on the second floor has a balcony overlooking the strip and I'll need to stop off there for a Brolly on my way to the third floor. I'll even pick out a perfect bottle of wine for spectating!" As he says it, he is already launching on upstairs to begin getting situated. The BROLLY! Must get the long gun!

Melina hms "Well if you think it's a good spot, though I believe wine should be saved for celebrating after we're out of this as the idea i believe is to stay /alert/ for danger to warn the captain. I look forward to a celebratory drink " However she flashes her crystal coconut ring "My ring is unconventional as is my husband so i'm willing to allow you didn't recognize it as wedding band."