Chapter 3

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week IV, Day VII - Week VI, Day VI
Summary: Chapter 3 prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here. Calendar information/dates can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Promises Unmade

Using the increase in unrest, as so many opportunists do, those within the Nine who seek to pursue their own agendas - whether that be family prestige, personal gain, or systematic upheaval - will find bountiful footholds to secure their positions. Land Kendry continues to assert itself as a leader in these troubling times, with Land Derrish falling in tow. Their first target, Land Hyponia, is shaken, careful not to make any mistakes that could crumble the already cracked mortar holding them together with the nobility. Aggressive though Land Derrish may have been, their sights have moved elsewhere, now focusing on driving forward oppressive legislation to replace the Seventh Generation Accords, rather than further eroding the power of Land Hyponia. Kendry is looking to control a functioning oligarchy, not cause a war over the territory that would be up for grabs should Land Hyponia fall. With the announcement of the Seventh Generation accords confirming already widespread rumors, those within the Nine are careful to place blame for the decision on the activities of the Resistance. For many, this is a believable conclusion, as the attacks by the True Leithans shook society at its core on both Westerley and Leith. Being a radical group, their intentions have been conflated with those of the Resistance in the eyes of many. Discourse on the subject isn't uncommon, but any within the Nine who seek a different target of blame best do so quietly, as dissent from within could quickly have one labeled a sympathizer of the unjust cause of the Resistance. On the surface a harmless placating measure taken by the Nine, the new PDDs being distributed through the Quad are touted as the pinnacle of communication technology. While some higher ranking Company officials and members of the nobility may already have access to quick and reliable network connection, these capabilities are now universal with the installation of the Meshwork. The Meshwork will enable all characters to interact in real time via text, video, or voice, but it isn't without side effects. For some reason, characters who frequently use their PDDs or who are in areas of heavily concentrated network use may suffer from headaches, nosebleeds, blurred vision, and/or dizziness, with more severe side effects including temporary blindness, loss of balance, short-term memory loss, and hallucinations. Connection of these symptoms to the PDDs is not the most common diagnosis, as many think the afflictions are a result of the aftershocks of P43X.

The Company: Balancing Act

With clean up from the P43X attack not yet completed, all Company officials should expect to have no singular responsibility, and little time for sleep, as they find the expectations levied upon them to only grow. Frayed nerves can create a hostile working environment, though anyone could be on the receiving end of any outbursts. The streets have returned from their throes of death with new life, but the city's usual clamor is being overtaken by the roar of protest. Some are peaceful demonstrations; some are violent riots, every display a reaction to the repeal of the Seventh Generation Accords. …At least, that’s what it says on paper, the docket that many Company officials receive outlining simple but brutal crowd control and suppression tasks. Whether a bar has been taken over as a hub of dissent, a street corner filled with unmoving protestors, or a Company affiliated storehouse raided, there's plenty to do for those tasked with keeping the peace. You may simply wish to make arrests, or you may welcome the chance to get your hands dirty - the law is on your side, and all voices daring to oppose the order of things need silenced. Those who don't take to the streets will likely find themselves on border control duty, checking the identification and supply dossiers of all incoming and outgoing ships. No one gets in, or out, without the proper clearance. Ship-wide searches have become standard practice, producing storerooms overflowing with contraband. Some may welcome the chance for banal organization, while others may take some 'bonus compensation' for themselves. With the tightening of rules comes the increase of bribery, and Company officials looking to line their pockets will find their opportunities in surplus. Get caught, however, and there's no second-chances. Although the Company audits have concluded, tensions only grow, and anyone found helping those with diverging agendas will be punished swiftly, cast in with the rest of the dissenters.

Westies: Tidal Force

Bereavement weighs heavy in the wake of the P43X attack on Westerley. Burdened by being both the last location of infection and the last to receive medicinal aid, Westies are entrenched in the solemn task of burying their fallen while the merciless machine of the economy marches on. Whether it’s the result of a lost loved one or the continued illness of primary caretakers, the end result is the same: families all across Old Town struggle to feed their children and make ends meet. It’s always been a guiding principle of Westerley—if you can’t work, you can’t eat—but with so many who can do neither, the situation in Old Town begins to grow dire. But there’s hope, albeit in the form of a double-edged blade: with the newly distributed PDDs and Meshwork installation, nonprofit organizations are able to conduct themselves on a wider scale, drawing in more donors from outside of Westerley. While their efforts are ultimately but a drop in the ocean, the renewed spirit of community and altruism provides relief—as well as nourishment—for many who might very well die without it. That same tool which allows the people to come together is also used to rend it; rumors begin to circulate through encrypted bulletins about the emergency meeting held on (Week IV, Day VII). Some of the rumors are wild speculation and fanciful daydreams, but in the mire of them, a grain of truth slips through. The Accords have fallen, they say. Be ready. Most people disregard the rumors, writing them off as the idle machinations of conspiracy theorists. They cling to their hope that soon their children will walk a planet that is bountiful in food and sunshine, that the land promised on Leith will deliver them from the hell they current endure. It’s those people who shout the loudest when the official announcement confirms the rumor. The Accords have been repealed. (Week V, Day III) At first, protestors gather in small, grumbling groups, little more than angry drunks. But as more and more people take to the Meshwork, the wrath of the few awakens the desperation of the many, and over the course of the night, the peaceful protest swells into an unruly riot. Workers strike, but without any legal protection, they swiftly find themselves rebuked by unemployment. Now with nothing to lose and everything to gain, the riots expand, filling the streets of Old Town with anger and tension. Company personnel become popular targets, and within the next day, all travel permits to and from Westerley are temporarily revoked. The moon closes its docks in an attempt to smother the flames of the rebellion. What starts as a movement for change shifts into a violent cataclysm, homes and businesses burned down, families torn apart by dissent within and outside of themselves. The Company seems content to let Old Town destroy itself, to let them “get it out of their system”, but all too soon that stance changes as well. With the death of a distant cousin of the Derrish, Company orders shift. Lethal force is authorized, and all too eagerly, used. Once the death toll begins to climb, the protests decline. The riots soften, though they do not disappear outright. Company and Westie optimists take to podiums in a desperate attempt to bid their fellow compatriots once more into peace. But something else awakens in the fires of those riots. Something far more dangerous than the chaos of anger: something controlled, methodical. They call themselves Hyperion, and they are the new faces of the Resistance.

True Leithians: Rested Laurels

For this faction, the time to scatter is nigh. Their work is complete: the Accords are no more, and the militant leaders order the reintegration of their soldiers into civilian life. Leith’s rightful owners retain the precious land that was once threatened, and although their methods were extreme, they are justified by the end result. But while the True Leithians see this as only a rested pause in their work, their benefactors—those who provided the resource and information that allowed their wicked deeds to see fruition—see this time as the closing of a chapter. Loose ends that might later lead to Qreshi officials or even potentially the Nine themselves are dealt with severely and harshly, albeit quietly. Several prominent figures of Leith’s highest echelon of society simply disappear, and curiously, those around them don’t seem to remember that they were ever there in the first place. Their benefactors are not the only group that would see the True Leithians burn. Among the first wave of missions delegated beneath the Resistance is the assassination of known True Leithian sympathizers. Unlike the Company, the members of Hyperion are ordered to perform their tasks loudly, to send a message written in the blood of the True Leithians. The citizens of Westerley will no longer be the gutless pawns of the Quad. They will strike back, and they will uncover the source of the True Leithian’s funding and information. If the True Leithians thought themselves ruthless, they’ll soon learn a new measure of savagery when Hyperion converges on their trail.

Leith: Olive Branch

The atmosphere of Leith is one of both hope and mourning. Recovery on Leith proceeds more efficiently than that on Westerley, their infrastructure and resources better able to accommodate those that were felled in the P43X attack. But although agency has the streets of Leith cleaner and the surfaces shining, the spirit of the moon itself suffers a devastating blow in the wake of the attack, the people of Leith unprepared and unseasoned to deal with the psychological ramifications of so much death. But they are not yet hardened by the experience, drawing together in the spirit of cooperation to restore not just the physical aspects of their homes, but the mental fortitude of their people. Charity drives and galas proceed in extravagant fashion, as if by the display of their assets they might rebel against the somber circumstances on which they’re hosted. For most on Leith, the fall of the Accords arrives as welcomed news, the citizens of the moon long since opposed to sharing their land with those of Westerley. But although the sense of satisfaction with the ends is high, there’s also an undercurrent of regret for the means which provided it. Unlike the True Leithians, most of the citizens of Leith are not radical or extreme, and they offer their sympathies—but only their sympathies—to those Westies in their midst. News of the riots results in tighter security around the Westies still stationed on the moon, and for the days that the violent storm on Westerley builds, Leith in turn becomes markedly quieter and more conscientious. Moderates come together over the Meshwork and propose a Peace Summit, a meeting of both delegation and charity, once the riots and dangers of traveling have passed. The summit is sanctioned by Leithian officials, as well as the allocation of surplus resources to aid their sister moon in her recovery. While many citizens of Leith eagerly await the news of lands once lost to their families for the Accords, many more donate their time and hands as part of the newly created Good Will Corps, a coalition of both political pundits and regular people devoted to strengthening the connection between the moons rather than sowing division. Volunteers—and some individuals who are voluntold, join the Good Will Corps on a trip to Old Town where the Peace Summit is scheduled (Week VI, Day III), lending their time, their labor, and their technology as a gesture of good faith. But whether or not that’s sufficient to see the Peace Summit garner any steps towards system stability is another matter altogether.

Resistance: Sacred Grove

The people of the Quad barely have time to remove the packaging from their new PDDs before a new voice of dissent begins to worm its way down the feed. Encrypted messages, quick flashes of imagery begin appearing at random on open networks and closed channels alike, pitting the harsh realities of the suffering, suffocating Westerley against the excess and decadence on display by both Leithians and the Nine, showcasing the disparity in the starkest of lights. All of it aimed at one purpose, to spread one solemn truth: the branches of the Mother Tree are burning… and the Nine seem to be holding the matches. The name whispered, the one goading dissent, echoes through the Quad - Hyperion - followed slowly with the murmur of hope. Of an intellect so profound that not even the Nine themselves will be able to stop it. With an artful ease, this new force begins to reach out, to commandeer the discordant efforts of the Resistance and reforge it into something stronger, faster. Deadlier. It starts with a select few receiving instructions directing them to safe houses already stocked with equipment and supplies, each with tech tailored to that cell's purpose and loaded with dossiers far too complete to have been compiled by the average citizen. Some of the background information appears to come directly from the records of the Company, or the Nine themselves, while still more from planets outside the Quad. Some even hint at records long since sealed by the RAC. Nothing points to one faction over another. Nothing reveals the how or why this Hyperion has decided to play these particular cards now, but one thing is quite clear. There's a deep laid plan being set into motion, and neither the Company or the Nine will see it coming. All these leaders have to do is gather their forces...

The RAC: New Grade

The citizens of the Quad were not the only ones affected by the P43X - the upper ranks of the RAC's field agents is notably thinner - and with tensions shifting yet again between the moons, they cannot afford to be ill-prepared and understaffed. In order to bolster their ranks, the decision comes down the pipe of a new assessment system: Peer Evaluations. Many of those that have been in their current ranks - those between Levels I - III - will be eligible to receive a two-part assessment of their capabilities to operate efficiently at the next level through successful completion of live warrants. These field evaluations can be conducted by any Level IV agent and turned into Central Command for compilation and rank change approval. Unlike the lower level agents, Level IV assessments will still be conducted by RAC's Central Command, once all of the subordinate assessments have been completed and processed. These agents should take note - part of their own evaluations for Level V will be the efficiency with which they're able to evaluate those below them. During this time, warrants will still flow in and agents sent to answer - especially once the travel bans go into effect on Westerley, as those agents alone bearing active warrants will be able to enter and leave the atmosphere, though their docking point will be limited to the Prisoner Intake facilities.

Comments

[oneirism]

A real question. I figured if it's something like 'a lot and I'm so done with it', I could move us into the back room. [His shortness doesn't seem to bother her at all, still calm as usual - her words actually genuine, especially since he doesn't seem to be looking so great. While she's no fan of the Company or Nine right now either, her grievances are more towards those in charge, rather than the individuals.

Plus she can imagine that her tendency to sound kinda flat most of the time didn't help. But anyway, she should get right to business. It's hard not to be curious about why someone, who's apparently high up on the class ladder, would come to a broker on Westerley.]

But I imagine you're not here for fun. What can I help you with?

[sunderings]

[ How could the Director have ever hoped to be anything other than patient, offering his own equanimity to a friend in need? Though tears had fallen on Julius' behalf, they are surely no sign of weakness, but only of compassion; of quiet strength. Understanding is the very least he can give to a man who had struggled (and struggles still, walking forward and on, regardless of how he'd been hurt) to live and to find a way to leave something good behind in the wake of so, so very much pain.

The task Julius has entrusted to him is a blessing for others; a testament to the fact that no one is truly a product of another's design, that by will alone--...

Hope might always be created.

(Even if Julius has yet to find that hope for himself.) ]

You do not understand. [ —Sion murmurs with a shake of his head, his eyes flicking up, mirroring the starlight cast down from overhead. ] I wish to help you in another way.

[ His free hand gives rise, a fore and index finger tapping lightly against his own temple in a fluid gesture meant to draw Julius' eye. ]

Integrated here is a biometric scanning system. [ It is something he's never confessed to Julius before, for there had simply been no need. What had been done to the Director, how he'd been modified for the sake of the Company... it is inconsequential in comparison to so very many things. ] It is within my ability, to see that which people carry with them; to identify the structures of foreign modifications and genetics.

Should I be able to glimpse a clear enough picture, I will be able to work toward something to counteract your condition.

[ And not so simply suppress it. ]

But... [ Optimistic, the Director may be, but his smile is a flickering thing, somehow unreadable in this moment. ] ...only with your permission.

[tousei]

[ There is surprise in Julius' expression, very much so - a suspicion that perhaps this empathy had another root, now proven in the information so delicately offered. Sion speaks as if they were inconsequential, yet he knows that they are anything but - technology like this always bordered on illegal, and it speaks volumes - of how Sion is able to maintain his positive countenance.

There has to be something behind it, some will propping it up, but it's no place of his to ever question. ]

The data, and instructions - all the work of Rachel Claudius was destroyed upon her death, by her own prescient hand. I have little to offer beyond my consent.

[ So yes, go ahead. ]

[ofobedience]

[It's not a gesture he's ever seen used in this kind of context before-- guns are used for threats, not...whatever this is, and already his head is canting slightly to the side even before that odd little pause, the moment of overt confusion written on his superior's face. His brows furrow, just a bit, and almost he asks if the other man is all right, if there's something wrong--

--but then there's the quiet laughter, the familiar sight of him self-consciously running a hand through his hair, and Giovanni shrugs it off, chalks it up to further eccentricity and, perhaps, a signifier of the kind of strain his sometimes-boss is currently labouring under. The threat of violence hanging over him in the wake of the riots, the revoked accords.

Vaguely, he smiles.]

I understand S-- ...Rhys. And your understanding of my situation is, in turn, appreciated.

[lefthandfree]

[He laughs good-naturedly before stepping closer to better survey the yellow robot that’s causing Jack so much trouble. He’s never seen anything quite like it (nor heard the particular kind of...music? that came out of the device earlier, but “party” still seemed an accurate description to what he’d felt he encountered when the door opened), and regardless of whatever faults Jack seems to find with it, it seems a technical marvel to James.]

You made that? [There’s clear wonder in his tone. It’s obviously not something James knows how to construct. While he isn’t useless with his hands, he never quite picked up an interest in tinkering and inventing. Also, since it's new to the bunker and on Jack's work table, it obviously didn't come from Hyperion.

Catching Jack grab the cigarette from behind his ear, James reaches for his own lighter in his jacket pocket and holds it out to light Jack's cigarette for him.] What were you trying to make it do?

ota | all through ch 3 | his usual hangout bar in Old Town

[lefthandfree]

[He’s seen often enough here, a familiar face that loves chatting up strangers and providing company for anyone that looks like they need it. He tends to flit from place to place while here unless he arrived with someone. No matter who you are, it seems he never has any trouble or inhibition trying to chat you up, especially once he’s gotten a beer in him.

Friendly and easy conversation is his norm. People that recognize him as a high-ranked killjoy will notice he doesn’t differentiate who he’s friendly with, views his interactions here different from when he's on a job. But to everyone else, he’s just that familiar, friendly face that knows a good time and how to be good company. Feel free to approach him, or let him approach you. He isn't picky, and he sure as hell doesn't believe in leaving people out if they want in.]

[refactor]

[ The recognition gets him to smile, as if he were expecting her not to, for some reason. It does fit well enough with having the offer for help accepted, and he takes the last few steps forward to take some of the boxes out of her hands. He at least lets her have two instead of just the one, though that's likely just because the rest were what was easier for him to take from her. ]

There we go—

[ His voice takes on a mild note of strain as he lifts them and speaks at the same time, but it's also quickly gone once he settles with them in his arms. ]

Tryin' to take 'em all at once, huh? [ He has to comment on her overly ambitious task, but he nods generally ahead as he adds a playful, half-teasing comment. ] Well, whatever, I gotcha. Lead the way, boss.

[lacuscular]

[ She's sweating. She's sweating profusely the moment she realizes he's actually staring when she said not to. Briefly, she is mortified at how empty his stare is until he reaffirms her that either he's OK with it, or he just doesn't care. She lessens her grip on her boots, having held them with the strength of a thousand suns during that entire exchange. ]

Oh.

[ Play it cool. Play it cool, he didn't mean anything by that. Everything is fine. ]

Are you going to play with it? [ Juvia begins to massage and stretch her feet out, having considerably relaxed between that tiny pep talk of hers to seeing his PDD. She manages to brighten up at seeing it, even if it's in her peripheral-- her own has become a fast highlight of any downtime she has. She's completely forgot about it until now, with the excitement and stress of everything going on. ] Juvia just wants to clarify... once we're done, we can leave, right?

This isn't like a standard shift?

[moneyman]

[ look, he's not good at that. obviously. and actually, he would have loved a smoothie, so thanks for nothing, Leo. god.

he takes the comment in stride, though. he's used to being lightly bullied. ]

Coffee's fine, then. Please. I'm afraid I might fall asleep otherwise.

[oneirism]

[Lapis has simply been listening to everything at the summit - to the official talks, to the talks hidden away in the dark corners of hallways, listening through her A.I. planted within their devices. And also, to the musician within the hall, her own interest in music causing her to linger longer than most to listen.

So maybe it isn't too surprising when his eyes meet hers, her head tilting slightly at his words. The vagueness doesn't bother her, but her bluntness means she doesn't keep her thoughts back either.]

Kind of a vague question. [There's many "it"s around here, after all. She'll address the two obvious ones then.]

Your music, very much, I haven't seen an instrument like yours before. The summit, a bit less so, but it's interesting to listen to.

[shigeharu]

[ She does play the whole social game of feigned respect and empty pleasantries well, when she cares enough to try. Much like he does, except he usually doesn't. But okay, he can play it enough to let her in.

And then, you know. Lounge like a cat in his bathrobe and not take this entire thing nearly as seriously as anyone thinks he ought to, as one does. ]

Pardon the mess.

[ There's absolutely no sincerity in his tone as he steps aside; he really doesn't give a damn if anyone pardons the nest of pillows on the couch or not. ]

[oneirism]

[It wouldn't be Lapis if she didn't put Julius in some sort of awkward/new situation.]

Why apologize for that? It's understandable it would feel odd at first. [There's a tilt of her head once more, blinking at him for a moment.]

If you want, I have no problems helping you get used to hugs. I imagine Sion might pull you into one sooner or later.

[lacuscular]

[ She, as well her water, wavers at his words. It gets her to stop, and manages to make some of her water plummet to the ground. The water keeps it form above the concrete, spreading itself atop the surface until it's called back into the air around her.

Juvia is quiet, not at all thinking about what how she could try and reason with him. But instead, controlling her emotions at his feeling of disgust. Her water begins to contort, slowly morphing from bubbles into a misshapen web of water dangling mid-air. ]

Is there something wrong with Juvia's water?

[ He hit a soft spot of hers-- something she's naturally defensive about. She's poured all her money and life into these enhancements, into this water, and it is something she takes pride in. ]

[moneyman]

Not unless some of these prices count, am I right?

[ ha ha, get it, it's funny. he's funny. no, he clears his throat. that was stupid. ]

Uh, anyway, no, I've been staying out of trouble. [ mostly. ] How about you?

[moneyman]

[ hey, Rhys has an escort. he's right here. he could totally beat the shit out of a would-be assailant. totally. ]

Yeah, you would think that... [ he crosses his arms, glancing at the floor in thought. ] Maybe they're into the idea but not... who it's coming from? I mean, don't take that the wrong way, but maybe they're just resistant to it because you're so much higher up in the food chain than they are. They might be skeptical that you'd really care enough to go through with something like this, especially considering all that's happened lately.

[ he looks back up at Rhys abruptly, plastering on a confident smile. ] But! [ he claps a hand on Rhys's arm. ] If anyone can do this, you can.

1/2

[lacuscular]

[ For a second, she feels like she's gotten herself into something she probably shouldn't have. Not wrestling up this convict, on the contrary, it's Jack's overconfidence that's making her feel overwhelmed.

She simply watches him along with the person below her, both entranced by either the morbid curiosity to know what the hell he's going to say next or the anticipation of what the hell could he say next. ]

..I understand. [ She hauls her prisoner up with her after maneuvering awkwardly around them, tightening her grip on them enough to get a wince in return. She's not used to someone talking so much, admittedly, but it does make her feel at ease that she doesn't have to match as much. As much as she can feel at ease given all going on. ] It does make sense things would be that way.

[lacuscular]

[ However, her attitude changes as soon as she registers his words, and the encouragement of that smile. ]

Perfect. Juvia will gladly escort them for you.

[ Juvia's expression quickly shifts-- it's warm and bright, with a smile on her lips. She was so very much hoping today would go smoothly! Suddenly, she feels glad Jack is here, even if she still has no idea how to address him properly. ]

1/2, and it's all good! o7

[lacuscular]

[ Juvia may not be the smartest cookie out there, but the obvious change in Rhys' expression tips her off that he's judging her. ]

What?

[ It's quiet and defensive, followed by a quick pat to her cheek to make sure her water is still there, effectively splashing the liquid across her face. A lone ice cube falls to the ground, already soaking into the carpet among her silence. ] I read somewhere that water pressure can alleviate swelling. [ So. She's. Doing that. ]

So. Juvia is doing that.

[lacuscular]

[ Oh geez. Uh. She stares at Rhys for a good while, right in his eyes, before moving to his desk. ]

I...I'll just stop talking and go put it on the desk.

[eusford]

I meant it as in making others think that way, but perhaps I worded it wrong.

[ Or put no thought into understand what she meant. Maybe something else. It doesn't quite matter at the end of the day, though. ]

Family. [ He answers flatly. She steps closer and he steps back, however it's not to put distance more than it is to raise her hand and twirl her in place before bringing her back into his arms. ] I'm not wearing blue because I find it charming on me.

[ A hint, if anything, that he belonged to the Simms. The Nine. ]

Said it's good for a face like mine to represent them during a time of need.

week iv-ish

[impulsors]

I'll take the -- uh. Baby. . . Mice Bile.

[ classic logic at any oldtown bar: if you aren't buying a drink, you don't stick around. if you don't know your drinks, you read off the menu. if you can't read the grimy chalking scrawled over the counter, you squint and wait and string together the words you do recognise until you order up a glass of something that looks worth ingesting. and you always pay your tab.

it isn't that keith likes drinking, even. but days rise and fall, new targets filter in and out of the rac system -- and it turns out that killjoys are a lot easier to talk into taking up warrants after a glass or two of anything.

at least, most of the time. but the bar menu's been scrubbed down and replaced with a fresh hand's lettering, and there's a new bartender sweeping from end to counter's end. her expression flickers not one whit, eyelash to jawline, under keith's stiff-shouldered squint. in sure, glassy movements, she assembles a glass, a greenish wine bottle, a whipped cream canister and a jar of -- are those floating mice? ]

Forget it -- no, I said, forget it.

[ too sharp a tone, maybe -- at his right, his bleary-eyed neighbor sways up from the counter, glowers at all this youthful exuberance, and slouches off his stool, leaving a row of empty seats between bucky and bewildered outrage in a tacky red jacket. no buffer at all. ]

Just give me a. . . Time to Lick the -- Donkey? [ why this. ] Who named these?

[eggplanting]

[Some of her anger has softened; it's still there, simmering under the surface, but she's thinking now, turning things over in her head, and it's enough to keep her focused.]

You don't think it's convenient? First the attack in Old Town, then this? The only people who got what they wanted is the True Leithians and the Nine.

[lefthandfree]

[James is onto his second beer already—keeping things easy tonight because he doesn’t really need anything heavier—when he notices the young man making a fuss off to the side, enough that another regular slinks off to one of the tables. He observes silently for a bit, taking in the stranger's plight and mannerisms, but a chuckle slips free at the indignant grouse of confusion from the ridiculous names featured on the menu from time to time. The drinks are never literal interpretations of of the names, gags for the amusement of the long-coming clientele to mess with their friends, but it never makes sense for newcomers, like this guy clearly is.]

Having trouble deciding what you want? [The amusement is clear, and his tone echoes a secret that the young man is clearly unaware of. James’ eyes go to the bartender briefly to give her an apologetic smile on the angry patron’s behalf.] I don’t recommend Licking the Donkey unless you’ve got someone to take you home, pal.

[eusford]

Think about it a little harder, then, do you feel like you're the same as me?

[ Rin might of left out Scarbacks out of habit or simply because he thought they were tied somewhere with Leithians, but he's unaware of that personal opinion and honestly if it's left unanswered he'd be able to sleep soundly tonight. ]

I'm just curious. [ Words accompanied with a shrug of his shoulders, catching a glimpse of the boy still staring awkwardly at the cup in his hands. ] I don't think I'm too different considering I'm not doing anything, just following what I'm told because it's easier that way.

[ It's been that way for a little over four years now. Told where to live, told to stay in, told to disconnect--but he was getting tired of that, bored of going day-by-day watching the world grow old without him. Waiting for whether or not his family will throw him under the bus for his... disease.

A distant relative comes across, commenting on the ribbon Crowley had at the end of his braid and is greeted with nothing more than a smile before they continue on. ]

But recently I realized that living life like that is very boring.

[rhygret]

....Yeah, alright. [ Rhys will just. Order something tame and obvious, just in case there's anything wrong with it. Because he remembers Leo talking to his drink last time and that sure was Something. ]