Private Tales Decampment at the Docks

[Rainie]

Once the two of them were out in the light, Rainie could see it was still quite early in the day. Was this a new record? Arrested just after breakfast and broken out by lunch? Surely it may be a little too early for a drink… However, she considered that perhaps her day warranted it. After, she had been arrested.

Rainie nodded along to Muirin’s description of Garramarisma, and then jolted with recognition. “South of Alliria, that’s right! Hm, I don’t know…” She weighed the pros and cons of going to a place so close to home, especially a place that may or may not contain dodgy members of her past. She reasoned that she had never been there before, so it was likely that no one would actively look for her here. She’d just have to avoid drawing attention to herself.

Yes. Well.

“That doesn’t sound too bad. If you don’t mind being my escort, I could keep you company,” at this, she jokingly leered at him, all smirks and batting eyelashes. The effect was ruined when she snorted a laugh.

As they walked, something was nagging in the back of her mind. Her thoughts turned to the murdered noble lady. Faces flashed through her memory, feebly trying to determine who had the proper sort of look about them…

She supposed she’d never know.

“So!” She ejected. “A quick drink, then a boat?” She looked up at Muirin, curious and utterly nonjudgemental regarding his reply, whatever that may be.

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Rainie was met with a level stare on the mercenary's part as she played up her doe-eyes and batting lashes. His stony facade of put-upon sass hardly faltered as she snorted out a laugh. "Aw'roight, yeah, don't like that one bit." In his heart, though, the joking and snorting and laughing was a welcome change. If he were of the sort to crack terrible jokes, he might mention how a thief like her could steal someone's heart. He kept that thought to himself, though, and it inspired the faintest smirk to cross his face.

Muirin startled slightly as Rainie all but spat-out her interjection from his side. The silence they'd lapsed into was entirely comfortable, and her outburst was almost enough to make him start laughing. "A quick drink, y'say? Well, yeah, a good idea if I'm still allowed int' any bars about here."

As far as the mercenary knew, there wasn't any reason that he'd be outlawed from the dockside bars he had a tendency to frequent. Granted, he'd woken up drunk in a jail cell a day or two after going on one hell of a bender, so what did he know? "I think a' know a place we can go. Guards don't like to mope about the docks, so it'll be pretty clear if we stick to th' alleys."

Without another second to consider their options, Muirin led Rainie by her elbow to turn down an almost familiar alleyway, slinking through the shadows and heading towards dockside.

 

[Rainie]

The thief grinned and trotted alongside her newfound ally. “Just try not to look recognizable! And maybe change your accent!” She chattered aimlessly. The bard then cleared her throat and effectively changed her accent from proper Allirian to an exaggerated Reach-esque broque. “Maybe ye want a bevvy uh bucky, nae ale! That will flin' them aff.”

She promptly smothered her snickers in her free hand at the look on Muirin’s face. She followed him through the alleyways he led her through, a bit wary. The thief spent the time alternating between side-eyeing him and keeping a lookout for shady characters or guards.

She let out a breath when he led her back out into the light and towards a tavern with a fish-shaped sign: The Proud Trout. Smiling, she slipped away to get the door, holding it open with a teasingly chivalrous nod.

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin stared death down the eyes of the bard as she mocked his voice, as though he might have half a mind to remind her that he is, in fact, a rather not-good person. His facade of 'bruiser' broke quick enough, though, and he prodded his elbow gently into her side. "Ah' don't sound like that!" A dramatic throat-clearing echoed from the mercenary before he splayed a hand to his chest. His accent, unlike hers, remained the same as it always was. Only the content of his words managed to mutate. "Awh, lookit me, I'm an Allirian, all posh n' tosh, hoo hoo hoo!" His hand left his chest, sweeping over to prod lightly against Lorraina's collarbone. "Tha's what you sound like. A real nob."

It was only a few short turns before the pair arrived at the Proud Trout, a fine establishment so long as you didn't mind smugglers bumbling about and drinking their sorrows away. Muirin, in fact, had been one such customer only the night before-- Or two nights before. Between the headache that still throbbed inside his skull and the fact that he'd been locked up, Muirin could only guess as to how long it had been since he'd left the Trout. Either way, with the door held open for him, the mercenary had no choice but to enter.

He took two long strides inside, planting his fists firmly on his hips and looking about the tavern's interior. Numerous tables sat half-full of sailors, many of which were of the rough-and-tumble variety. Some turned to face the new entrants to the establishment, and a hush fell over the crowd as conversations were squelched in favor of leering at Muirin. His gaze fell on the bartender, a woman who couldn't be too far into her thirties, and he gave her a wide grin. "Next round's on me, luv. This jailbird's 'ome free."

A cheer ruptured through the tavern, more so in response to a round of free drinks rather than Muirin's hard-won freedom. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to Rainie before nodding to the bar, crossing to it in only a few long strides and taking a seat atop one of the tall, rickety stools available. "And then somefin' strong for me, and whatever the lady wants a'top'a that."

Rainie

 

[Rainie]

Upon entering the Proud Trout, Rainie was fondly reminded of the Singing Gull back in Elbion. Just like a criminal who wasn’t wanted for murder, Muirin immediately drew as much attention to himself as possible. The thief glared daggers in the back of his head, and wondered if the mariner could feel it.

Sighing, she crossed the room and slid up onto a stool beside Muirin, then pulled her bag around to her front to rummage around for coin.

When asked for her drink order, she affected a strong Spine accent and requested, “A whiskey; a double, please.” She laid a few silvers on the bar. “And something to eat, eh? Stew, bread, cheese; whatever you’ve got.”

The barkeep took the coin and puttered around until both their drinks were before them. Rainie downed hers with perhaps too much vigor, but hey, she did get arrested for murder today. Throat burning, she actually held up a finger to signal for another one.

She glanced over at Muirin and idly wondered, “So, did you fight anyone in here?”

 

[Muirin]

Muirin noticed Rainie staring daggers into the back of his skull, but he simply gave her a cheeky smile as the bartender went about getting their first round. "Look, I dun' know about where you come from, but 'round my creed, we've got some honor. You're with me, an' these blokes'll honor that. Besides," he continued, turning back towards the bar and giving the tender a polite nod as she set out their drinks. "'Least now I know ah' didn't hit any o' these buggers."

Muirin nursed his tankard of a strong Orcish ale, giving Rainie a curious look as she promptly knocked back her drink and ordered another. Something in his eyes said, "Slow down, luv," even if his voice didn't.

"Fight anyone in here?" He repeated her question, cocking his head to the side and giving a glance around. "No, not that I know-- Not recently, anyhow." Given the kind reception he'd received upon his bombastic entrance, the scoundrel assumed nobody present held any grudges against him. If they did, they'd kept it to themselves at the very least. "I mean, oi've been in a lotta scraps and tussles 'round these parts, but nothin' too serious. Why d'ya ask?"

 

[Rainie]

"Just curious," she hummed. Just then, a bowl of stew was placed before her, along with a hunk of bread and cheese. She tore the bread in half and dunked a portion of it in the stew before shoving the rest over towards Muirin. "Here."

Taking a bite of the savory bit of soaked bread, she chewed for a moment then swallowed. Many thoughts weighed on her mind at the moment. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but she couldn’t help but wonder... After a beat, she reached up and scratched her scalp through her scarf, then turned back to Muirin.

"Something is bothering me, though." She switched to the suggestive cant of thieves and criminals. "Who would smack that nice lady? I know you weren’t there for the party, but do you know anyone around here who would be so rude? I am new, after all.”

Briefly, she bit her lip, then added, “And I don’t talk to my old family much anymore, but I doubt they have relatives out this far.”

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin took up the bread she'd offered, offering only a nod in thanks. He took a bite and chewed through it slowly, only realizing just how hungry he was once the food touched his tongue. His stomach grumbled angrily with a volume that most would find embarrassing, but the scoundrel merely shrugged it off and took another bite.

Rainie gave her head a scratch and asked Muirin a string of questions in a cant simple enough that even some tea-drinking pissant of a wizard would be able to keep up. He raised an eyebrow to her as she finished off her questioning, swallowing the bite of bread he'd been mulling over. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, he took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before answering. "I dun' know any nobles that rude. Dun' know many nobles to begin with, but, you know." His broad shoulders shrugged slowly, and he cocked an eyebrow to her once again.

"Any idea how she was slapped? Front hand? Back hand? Knife through th' sternum?" The cant she'd conjured made him feel like a damned fool, especially since they were in a criminal bar where, surprise, most tenants could decipher such a simple code. Thus, he was happy to ditch the vagueness on his last listed option. Self satisfaction spread a smirk over his face. "As fer' your family, eh, I wouldn't worry."

 

[Rainie]

The sound of a gurgling stomach made itself known and Rainie smiled wryly. She slid the bowl of stew closer to Muirin and hoped he’d take the hint.

The bard’s expression darkened after a bit. “I wouldn’t discount my family so quickly,” she cautioned gravely. “Us Allirian’s are all about business and gold... And I wouldn’t be surprised if they were getting back on their feet by now.”

She thought to herself for a moment. “I don’t think it was a noble. Any families around here that would be like mine? Or groups of similar interests?” She thought of the thieve’s guild, or the mobsters she’d recently thrown her lot in with. Alliria was not a very safe kind of place, underneath the surface. “Or maybe a noble’s less-than-noble friend?” She herself was no assassin, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have a presence in the small dockside town.

“As for the lady, I didn’t see the slap. Didn’t even hear it last night. I’m not clear on how it went down,” she admitted with a sigh. She stuffed the rest of her bread in her mouth. After she finished her bite, she looked around the room curiously. “Shit, would anyone here know anything?”

She thought she saw a familiar mop of inky black hair. When she did a double-take, it seemed to have vanished. She could barely recognize anybody in here, with all the hoods that were up. She sighed in frustration.

Muirin

 

[Muirin]

Muirin took the poffered bowl of stew with a grin far too sheepish to suit his scarred features. He shoveled the not quite fine cuisine down his throat as quickly as he could manage, and a day's worth of hunger came crashing down upon him in an instant. The scoundrel's stomach growled voraciously, unquelled even as Muirin pressed a palm into his gut.

Continuing to eat as Rainie spoke, the brute offered the occasional comment around a mouthful of stewed meat. "Please, luv', ah' know plenty 'bout 'Llirians an' yer vices." Another grin, this one softer around the edges. "No 'ffense, o' course." After all, who was he to judge her by the locale of her birth? By all rights, he could have lived to be an honest man - The circumstances of one's creation meant little in the land of thieves and rogues.

Muirin somehow managed to polish off his paltry meal as Rainie theorized just how her temporary patron had been, ahem, 'slapped'. She'd asked him a lot of questions that the scoundrel frankly couldn't possibly know the answers to. For some reason, though, he had taken a shine to the thief in their limited time together, and he spent a good few seconds in earnest silence, sorting through his memories of the few days he'd spent in port. "... 'f I'm bein' honest- which is rare -there ain't much in th' way of'a "Fam'ly" 'round these waters. Anyone with cous'ns out 'ere would prob'ly be Allir themselves."

The scoundrel brought a maul-sized hand to his face, lightly scratching at the uneven stubble he'd been gaining from his past spell of dismissing personal hygiene. "Far as noble 'friends' go, y'd be more likely to know 'em than me. Nobility ain't my forte." Slowly, the scoundrel turned his gaze to scan the room at large. His eyes flitted about for anyone suspicious, though suspicion was sadly the natural state for folk who would find themselves in The Proud Trout at such an hour. Aside from a few appreciative winks, Muirin gained little from his search-- At least most other tenants had forgotten about him for the time being.