overjoyed_logs | [closed] Time to set it all aflame

Who: Ango & Julius
Where: Leith - burning zones, etc.
When: Evening of Week 8 Day 6.
Summary: Strikes on Leithian soil and a disconnect from the merry info brokers on Westerley have left the Company's chain of information a little...lacking. Sure, you could follow orders and beat everything down till they couldn't stand up again but that's hardly the way to move forward. Of course, normally, this would've been a job for someone else. Normally when the Company says "Jump", it's someone else who has to answer "How high?". But sometimes, the only one available to jump is you.

aka two merry Company workers trying to puzzle their way through Leithian chaos.

also featuring: How would you like to watch a field of hokk go up in flames?

Restrictions/Warnings: Violence! Burning things (hopefully not people)! Trying to navigate the riot zone without a bodycount may prove more difficult than expected, though.

[ Suits and ties -- attire for official business -- discarded in favour of the scratchy, dirt-earth tunics not unlike those found on the fieldworkers' backs. Arguably the very same fieldworkers that rioted in the markets just earlier in the afternoon, violently dispersed by the Good authorities.

...though. If Julius' clothes smell like they've been steeped in sweat for days, it's probably a good idea not to ask where Ango got these from. ]

You're armed?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ ...but nothing.

Overt as the looks they're getting, no one actually steps up to block their path, or to question them about how they're new faces despite travel between moons being so heavily regulated (for they were clearly not natives that everyone recognised, nor old hired help). Julius passes -- for now, at least.

Well, it's a small success and one that both of them can appreciate.

Ango guides them to round the corner, tension bleeding out of his shoulders in tightly controlled eases but he can't let loose just yet. This road is lined with refuges for those with a little coin-- massage parlours, seedy bars and the odd pharmacy with bright neon lights. It's usually a busy road, but the riots today have left things a little emptier than normal.

And emptier roads mean more time for people to check out everyone else. Their destination is somewhere near the middle of this road, but listening out to some hushed conversations might lead to interesting tidbits. ]

[ Julius keeps pace despite the scrutiny, his willpower etching patterned movement despite residual nervousness, faking composure more effectively than he ever has to on a mission. Given that most of his focus is devoted to keeping himself in line, he only has a little reserve to spare for much else.

Still, it tells him that the Company is spoken off, even if it was only in derision. Luckily for them, those words don't seem to be directed at the duo just yet.

His awareness pricks at the attention, not being used to scrutiny instead of outright hostility. Just a while more... ]

[ Sure, there's talk of the Company, of the riots, of how some people are wondering if the Westerley-Leith jump was a good idea. Hushed conversation of how so-and-so came back with a head injury, did you know? And there's talk that the shop down the road has been emptied out -- no one really knows if the owners have fled or are in hiding.

(The last thread of conversation comes from a bored-looking pair who shut up in a hurry when someone strolls by, pasting on bright smiles instead and shoving gaudy pamphlets that read something like Naughty Nubile Nymphets upon closer inspection. But it isn't necessarily humans they're marketing.)

All relatively decent sources of information of various degrees, but Ango merely files them away for future usage with a mild frown.

But here they are, in front of a narrow-looking door with frosted glass that murkily conceals what looks like smoky vapours within. There doesn't seem to be anyone in front of this door unlike some of the other establishments, but the brief thump from the other side could bely someone, or something more...hazardous. ]

This seems like the place.

[ A quiet sigh, as he languidly shoves a hand into a raggedy pocket. Time for the do-or-die. ]

...Visconti. Could you do the honours?

[ Julius does not usually come here.

He takes in the information that Ango does, though not with the same level of detail nor ability to make connections. He has been out of touch with Westerlyn things for too long, so the only things he relies on are his instinct and the ability to outmaneuver normal humans in fights - battle reflexes for someone out of their element, as it were. It's enough to get them this far, so it should not fail this early.

So he nods, knocking once on the door (softly enough to pass it off as just fumbling for the knob) before pushing it open.

It's a small sort of establishment, filled with a motley crew of farmers nursing drinks or smokes, and naturally the eyes all fall onto them.

Julius looks around, steps in with a sort of shuffle to make way for Ango, returns the scrutiny with the best imitation of a fellow he can.

What now? ]

[ Meticulously clean as he tries to be, Ango is only partially successful in disguising his distaste for the heavy scent of tobacco in the air as the door shuts behind him. And such things were really harder to hide when you have the entire drinking hole's attention on you.

(The most ideal way would've been to enter from the back door but things weren't quite ideal enough for him to negotiate something like that.)

Cough. ]

Evening.

[ He keeps things gruff, monosyllabic as he meets most of those stares head-on: A surly challenge as he silently singles out the nearest exit, the level of hostility from the crowd. It's really not a big place at all -- just sitting at one of the corner tables should afford you a view of almost the entire premise, barring a couple of blind spots. And it's there he'll shuffle to, with a slight incline of his head so Julius can follow. The stares will doggedly follow every step of theirs, though....

Except, well-- someone detaches themselves from the suspicious hivemind at the front counter and seems to be coming towards them.

(don't kill them, they're just here to take your order! or perhaps to have a Talk? your call.) ]

[ Luckily for the two of them, it seems to just be an order taker. For now. There's no telling what could befall them afterward. ]

What can I get you?

[ The words might seem welcoming, but the slight tilt of the bartender (?)'s head might indicate some sort of a challenge and implicit scrutiny. Julius doesn't answer immediately, letting his gaze trail over to the menu on the wall - or what seems to pass for it. Only names, no prices.

For someone who never drinks, it's a difficult decision. ]

Cider.

[ Hokk may be more expensive on Westerley and Qresh, but in a place surrounded by hokk fields, it came dirt cheap. Unfortunately-- which hokk fieldworker would want to drink the product of their blood toil and have to pay top dollar for it?

Especially with all the talk of suspicious work related deaths.

(But is this not the same situation with apple orchards? Clearly not.)

--and Julius, aren't you taking a little too long to decide. ]

[ He jerks a thumb at him. ]

Tomato juice for him.

[ Too late, the decision's been made.

"Tomato juice?"

It's not a popular option, but some of the people at the counter have turned away now. Tomatoes aren't an unpopular crop, so there's always some around -- sometimes in various stages of ripeness (and rot). ]

[ Julius ducks his head slightly, playing the part of obedient subordinate or protege - which he is, considering Ango has miles more experience than him in infiltrating and successfully not killing anyone. It's easy to just follow another's orders, especially since he's been conditioned to do so.

Really, at this point he feels like he's just useful for muscle.

It's up to what Ango wants to do now. ]

[closed] Time to set it all aflame

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you're an m for punishment!! and may our tags get shorter now we can actually get to dialogue.

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