Respectable Lasses

[rassafraggin]

A day or so before the riverboat is due to arrive at the private docks of a winding river to the east of Carcil, there is planning. Not that planning is so unusual a step to take before any worthy mission, but one sort of gets the impression that a lot of things around this particular bunch tends to happen 'off the cuff'. Planning, therefore, is often a luxury.

Instead of terrorizing the Broadstreet Hotel again, meetups have been moved to the shiftier end of town, in the old lodge across from Smoggers' Crossing. An interior balcony accesses the rented rooms above the multi-use smoking lounge on the ground floor, giving renters a fair view of its eclectic decor through the ever-present pipe and cigar smoke. In addition to the hodge-podge of upholstered armchairs and otherwise homemade furniture, there is a concession counter for the purchase of simple meal fare, coffee, liquor, and rustic candy concoctions. Sometimes the single wall which isn't festooned with miscellaneous antlers and mysterious bits of machinery serves as the whitewashed screen for a light-projecting contraption, displaying rudimentary motion pictures synced with cacophonous recorded sound. The remainder of the activities seem to involve smacktalk and Big Fish stories between crusty locals and visiting frontiersfolk.

A square alcove tucked in a back corner of the balcony holds a smaller, more private sitting space which is cluttered up by Merrisol, Maggie, and anyone else who drops by to join in the pre-caper mulling. Laid out on the rustic coffee table is a geographical survey of the river that runs from a mountain valley waterfall, and rambles south through foothills and forest, before feeding into brackish swamps and the Begman sea coast. A few mugs and plates obscure map detail on either side of the river, in addition to a collection of gambling paraphernalia. Cards, dice, and the like.

Merri is here, disappearing a sandwich in-between bouts of tinkering on a ladies' folding hand-held fan.. implanting small elements along the green silk inner pleats. Homing beacons, or perhaps those shards of mirror are spying aids. He's kind of rumpled and dusty from a morning's scouting trip along the riverbank, and seems to be gradually embracing that support role of monitoring the mission from the muddy bushes. Violet's invitation to Disillusion did not include meddling Cristholms or Merrisols, though she had advised that the cardsharp bring along a couple of fine ladies for the appearance of respectability.

Seated near Merrisol at the table, Maggie is working with a carving knife and bits of wood. Her concentration shifts from time to time, though she pays more attention to what she is doing than not. A slip with the knife would be uncomfortable, at best. Slowly, intricate patterns are coaxed into being as the wood turns into delicate combs to be worn in someone's hair. Finishing the first, she sets it down and begins on a second. The completed ornament has a graceful spray of cherry blossoms arching above the tines. A butterfly, wings spread to the sun, rests at the upper curve and three ripe fruit hang at the other end. Flexing her fingers, she looks at the wood in her hands, "Maybe I should make this one look like something more Begman? With gears and... I don't know... A spanner?" Looking up at her husband, she watches him work with that fan. Claiming a sandwich from a nearby plate, she nibbles before asking, "What are you doing?"

Merri holds a jeweller's magnifying lens to his left eye while he puts tiny daubs of metal enamel down the inner sleeve of one fan, dots connecting a filament of copper wire. Because sometimes one has to make their own light twinkles. "Secondary signalling device, mainly," he mutters, preoccupied. "In a pinch, though, one might use it to help Lord Bayle spy in his opponents' hands. Though perhaps beneath the parlour tricks there is an astute card player." Not that Merrisol is any judge of that, being generally acknowledged (by Martin) as the worst pokerface in the deep. He looks up and around, monocle falling into his open hand. "That looks great, Only. Geared up fashion accessories are a bit.. touristy?" Whaat? That can't be. One can never have enough gears.

Melina wanders through the haze of smoke, having tracked the others here and gotten wind of a high-stakes card game though not precisely its importance to the group. she wanders on back to watch the tech being assembled with curious gaze.

Maggie looks at Merrisol's workings with increased interest, "Oh. That is very clever. And beautiful." With the utility and grace of the fan in mind, she finishes the small sandwich while studying her own handiwork. Her subconscious pricks and she looks around. Spotting Melina, she smiles and motions to an open chair, "Hello!" Her smile blooms in welcome, "I am glad that you are here. I am hoping that you can answer a question about Begman fashion." As the lady is clearly an authority on class, fashion and style. "Please join us?"

"Lady Melina, ma'am," says Merri, with a genial nod at her approach. He half-rises from his seat for her, chair back thudding softly against the lumber wall. Not at all surprised to see the noblewoman slumming about at the smoking lodge, though the regular denizens below might have stared a bit. "Do you feel up to hobnobbing with the aristocrats on the Tessier's Folly, or shall you be with me, lurking through the bushes along the riverbank?" he offers two great options, while settling back down.

Melina hms "Oh dear, well I'm afraid my knowledge of begma is quite new, focucusing mainly on history and " she lowers her voice " something that begins with an "m ends with a c or sometimes a k and goes over a bit like a unicorn epitet so I fear I won't be of much help on what's customary. I think a social gathering is more my forte, though might i ask the aim of attendance at this gathering

Maggie sighs, but smiles at Melina. She pushes the plate of small sandwiches the Lady's way in invitation to share their bounty, such as it is. Her smile turns to Merrisol at the gesture of respect and twinkles at him. Her attention turns back to Melina at the admission couched in mystery and misdirection, "Oh, really? I wasn't aware that was a thing here. Must be hidden. Good luck..." Her attention slips back to her mate to watch his reactions. While she does so, one hand strokes the wood before her, fingers speculating on form.

Waving the fan in not-at-all maidenly fashion to cool the soldering work, Merrisol snags another sandwich wedge from the moving plate. He uses it to gesture over at the six-sided dice, open decks of cards, and assorted stacks of gambling chips to one side of the unfolded map. "Miss Violet Pringle has offered the location of a certain heretic in exchange for Valentino's help destroying a suitor of hers in cards. Or is he an ex-lover. Or is it a game of Craps. Not clear on those bits," he shrugs. "In any case, Lord Disillusion has a pass to that fancy riverbarge, and apparently could do with a couple of respectable lady friends for the outing." Which pretty much puts Merri out of the running.

Disillusion's cigarillo brightens in the haze as he takes a deep breath through it. A moment after it fades, he adds a bit to the smoke about in the room, expelling more of it as he speaks with a smile already forming, "Indeed! To serve as a bit of misdirection as well." Blue eyes bounce back and forth from blonde to redhead as his smile works up a full head of steam, "I don't suppose I might be able to borrow the two of you?" His gaze sweeps on over toward Merrisol before dipping down to this little thing he is tinkering with, curiosity evident. "I wonder if we could manage to get you aboard as a porter?" The "Master" Artificer's eyes narrow as he leans in a bit closer to try and discern more about this contraption.

Melina hms "A bunch of untrustworthy people who don't like each other much, stuck in a room together. Sounds like a council meeting. maybe i can be of help after all. But i'm sure i'll need advice on somethings like whether i'll draw more attention with the ring or without. you can let me know in the morning. i suppose i best find a room

Though he certainly knows how to use the business end of a fan! Maggie nods, her lips quirking toward a grin. Saved by the details of their adventure! Turning to Melina, "If you wish to join Lord Disillusion, I would be pleased to carve a comb for your hair. It won't have the same functionality as the fan Kerf is making. but I hope it will be decorative. What would you like?" She reaches over to touch the completed carving, "You are welcome to this one rather than defining one, if you wish...?" She pauses as Disillusion appears through the smoke. She inclines her head in greeting to the man, then blinks at the request. Her attention turns to Merrisol, then to Melina, "Oh. Sleep well, Lady Melina." Looking up at Disillusion again, she considers the request. "I suppose that I can dust off my formal manners, get gussied up and pretend to be from the big city. Though I should listen to how fine ladies of Begma speak." Her tone holds little enthusiasm, but some amusement rests in the deep recesses of the vowels. "Probably." Turning to Merrisol she adds, "Are you okay with that, Beloved?"

Merrisol is but a tinkerer. Avert thine engineering degrees from his paltry creations! The fan's wee mechanism to let off mirror-amplified light pulses is destined to burst into flames at the first inopportune moment. However, that is never the foreseen intent. Glancing over sharply as the fellow Indeeds!, the piratical cowpoke is clearly uncertain at what point their table had been graced by the Artificer, having been immersed in his own fine motor work for a spell. "Of course... Can't guess which way Lady Shiona will lean in this," he nods to Maggie. On one hand, she has a knack for fading into the scenery, and on the other hand, she once walked into the middle of a gunfight with a sword. "And I know you have been in games parlours before."

Disillusion straightens and bows his head as Melina indicates she is taking her leave. Stepping back and to the side, he sweeps a hand to motion back in the direction from which he had just come, "Sweet dreams, Lady Melina." His eyes trail along behind the Solaris Lady before he finally snaps back around upon hearing Maggie's voice. Hmmm? What were we talking about? One blink is all that's needed for him to recollect himself and then he gives one small deprecating wave before sliding easily into a seat, his hand unbuttoning his jacket in a smooth motion while passing. "Easily taught. There are other important skills for the job that can't be and I'm certain you have them." Ability to draw attention when entering a room? Check! Disi's finger is wagging as he nods to Merrisol, "The sword. I wonder if she might be able to part with it for the time on the boat? Or maybe we could at least conceal it for her." As he is talking, his eyes keep dipping down for more glances at the fan. Shiny syndrome, activate! "I have been known to enjoy a game of cards or two, yes. Helped pay a fair bit of my tuition in my academy days."

Merri sees Melina off with a polite nod. He lays the fan down warily as he notes Disillusion eyeballing it, a design so simple it defies critique, if not improvement. "No need to pass for homegrown Begman, I would think. Easier to simply avoid certain 'abnormal' behaviors," he points out, after a few bites of lunch and considering the Shiona Dilemma. "Shy of a very long violin case, I'm at a loss. She may hang back with me, after all, as there is no way I could be inconspicuously smuggled aboard, either... Had to put yourself through university, hm?" he remarks to Disillusion presently, skepticism showing amid his preconceptions of the nobleman.

Disillusion nods approvingly at this suggestion from Merrisol, his eyes even showing a spark as new ideas fire. "Yes. Yes! It may actually be all the better. One might describe it as... exotic." This Dilemma is the sort of problem Disi could easily lose himself in trying to solve. He is nodding absently while the wheels in his head turn like mad. Quietly and perhaps to himself, he mumbles, "Perhaps some sort of custom dress design to smuggle it about." A few blinks have him back to the here and now as he nods again, "Yes, that might have to be the case. Though, a backup escape plan will be essential." Flexing a hand, he produces a pack of playing cards and a small knife, which he puts to use in breaking the seal. The jokers and a small advertisement card are removed and then he begins to go through the motions of a routine. The cards are fanned out before he pulls and flips the end card up, which, being the bottom card, pulls all of the others up as he drags a finger along. "A bit by myself, a bit from some generous patrons who recognized my gifts, and of course some scholarships. Hard work and many late nights, but it paid off!" Theft at the card tables, theft from well-to-do city dwellers, and a combination of forgery and breaking and entering in academic offices! "I've only recently reconnected with my distant Bayle cousins, sadly. Science has always been my true focus!"

The mention of an exit strategy puts a slight smile on Merri's face. With the appearance of a fresh deck, he folds up his fan-diwork and arranges the disassembled bits to one side, making more room for the cardplay if need be. He watches the dextrous display closely for a moment, then nods and drops his gaze to the thin yellowed map paper unfolded on his side of the table. Most of the hand-drawn lines and ink notations aren't fresh, the parchment likely bought or liberated from a local trapper or angler. It depicts a couple of kilometres worth of the Coefax Creek which meanders down through the foothills, then widens and falls into Phaedra's Pond, and feeds the long, slow-moving Greater Coefax River before it breaks into marshlands along the Begman coastline. Marked out are the private docks of a riverside estate east of Carcil, and then a couple of cargo stations situated further south where the barges might drop or take in staff and supplies. There are still long stretches of forested wilderness in between, webbed with obscure hunting trails. "Distant..?" he repeats in a mutter, looking back up. "But a ready access to vintage Bayle's Best does do wonders for the social connections." He picks up a red fountain pen to point out some riverbank jetties and suggest, "Could rig up some grapple launchers from any of these to get a zipline hooked onto the ferry if you all find yourself in trouble." Like, if the whole thing is really a dastardly Pringle set-up? The thought hasn't crossed his mind. Much.

A hand sweeps across to slide the cards back into a pile, which Disi then sets to shuffling. At first, it is a slow and rather simple shuffle, but as he progresses it picks up speed with a flourish thrown in here or there. The Begman playboy's smile shows a hint of amusement as he replies, "We've reconnected. My sister works at the Twisted Grape and I just happen to have a few choice bottles with me. One or two may even be of some help in this endeavor. What a fortunate coincidence." Cards are now dealt out, tossed with precision to land in a pile before each person. "Excellent. That would be good in case we are relieved of any important pieces of equipment. I think it would still be wise to bring a few *discrete* items aboard. Just in case. Perhaps some manner of umbrella that might serve as a conveyance..." Still not looking at his cards, his eyes narrow and focus somewhere up and beyond the others, already drafting and revising potential plans.

Merrisol eyes the small stack now built up unsolicited at his corner of the table. A wee bit of trepidation in matching card wits with a wily gamer, even if it's just a demo round. At least Marty was willing to play for invisible clams. He sits forward and palms up the hand, but instead of looking at them, he goes for the handcannon cross-holstered at his belt. This is gonna be one of those kinds of card games! "Ah, speaking of nifty equipment... I've been holding on to this a bit longer than is polite, I think." He spins the C.O.L.T. by its grip beneath his hand to place it on Disi's side of the table, business-end directed peaceably towards the empty wall of the nook.

Here, amongst friends, Disillusion is caught with his hands above the playing table as the Dread Pirate Merrisol draws a weapon on him! Curse his sudden, but inevitable betrayal! All manner of instincts kick in as the Observant Begman Playboy catches sight of the flash of chromed nickel being raised. His thumb tucks in on his hand and, with it facing down against the table, it goes steady there for a moment. But! Then the weapon is flipped around, set down, and Merrisol accompanies it with an explanation! The unwavering smile grows a hair with relief and his free hand finally ventures back toward his cards to pull the corners up to take a look. Shaking his head, he replies, "Oh, think nothing of it! I *do* feel it might be prudent to hold onto that until this business is concluded. Should the Pringles double-cross us, you may find yourself needing to pop more than one."

RPG: Disillusion shows a message to SKL-OB or PHY-KS.

Maggie had listened to the discussion of exits and strategies. Her gaze lifted from the comb she was working on to glance at the cards as they land nearby. Looking up, then over to Merri, she arches her brows. Moving slowly, she puts the finishing touch on a delicate butterfly antennae where it just brushes the trailing ine of a flower's petal. Setting the wooden piece aside with her tools, she carefully gathers curling wooden shavings from the table and tucks them into a small fabric bag. Lifting the cards, she begins to organize them when she notes Kerf's movement. Her eyes widen and she darts an aprehensive glance first to Disi, then to the room beyond their nook. Not seeing anyone taking any notice, she turns her own Observant nature to Disi. She takes in the curve of his thumb. An inhallation begins with a frown and a hand easing toward Disi's own. It ends with a smile and her hand stilling and returning to her cards. Easing back a bit as though no tension wound through her in those moments, she nods, "It is always good to be aware that a double cross is possible. Though it is equally important to decide where to place trust. Especially in this sort of venture. Yes?" Her attention is focused mostly on Disillusion though her gaze flashes to his hand, then to Merrisol briefly before returning.

Merri maybe perhaps did not take his hand all the way off the pistol after offering it back. Maybe there are still some lines of electromagnetic static between his fingers and the shiny gun, anyway. Sooo shiny. Though he doesn't seem to appreciate how close he had come to provoking Disillusion's defensive measures, he in turn looks relieved when the weapon is re-loaned. And glom! It readily disappears beneath the edge of the table again. "Much obliged," he murmurs. It goes without saying by now that it is never his intention to drop any countrymen or -women, but... once violence starts, it takes violence to stop! He remembers the cellulose in his other hand then, and gives them a hopeful look-see.

RPG: Merrisol rolls 5d13: 7 11 2 13 8 = 41
OOC> Merrisol says, "As I thought! A terrible hand!"

RPG: Disillusion rolls 5d13: 10 9 11 3 8 = 41
OOC> Disillusion says, "Hah!"

The corner of Disillutsion's mouth tugs upwards, twisting his smile into an approving grin as Merrisol draws the weapon back in. His eyes roll over toward Maggie for a moment and he nods in agreement. "Too true, too true! For my part, I certainly don't trust those Pringles as far as I could throw them. I'd bet that should I walk away from the table with any winnings, they may well try to steal it. Though, I must say that I feel much better knowing I'll have you all watching my back just as I had yours the other day! That place is sure to be a pit of vipers." His hand raises and he wags a pointed finger in the air, now showing a shiny lighter to be held there. The top is flipped open, then snapped shut before he sets it down on the table. Surely that is what he was holding all that time and everyone ought to feel guilty for thinking the worst of innocently little Disi! "Quite right! It's always such a shame when situations turn violent, but here in the East one must be prepared to meet them with an appropriately strong response." Lifting the deck, his other hand rests atop it, ready to deal out cards to Maggie or Merrisol as needed. Blue eyes dance back and forth between the pair waiting to see what either might require.