recolle | smells like arsenic

WHO: Jacopo and Kyrie
WHERE: A small, dingy bar in Tisse
WHEN: Late evening, 2/5
WHAT: Two scumbags have a drink together
WARNINGS: None, aside from mere mentions of alcohol and violence

[ it's a raggedy little bar, from the barely polished hardwood floor to the flickering lights -- the patrons match accordingly. a poor man's ambiance has always been enough for him.

probably because he is the poor man.]

I'll have the usual.

[ a glass of slightly murky whiskey, the average scotch on the rocks, is slid in his direction. he blatantly sniffs it, gives the bartender a raise of the brow and takes a sip.

'coast's clear' his face seems to say after a minute or so, and he skips from sips to a barbaric gulp. jacopo sets his glass down as if to acknowledge his newfound companion, but he doesn't bother to spare him a glance. ]

You're late. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?

[ he does now, however. and it's a prolonged one as his eyes shift from head to toe, toe to head, narrowing with scrutiny for a fleeting moment. ]

What're you waiting for? Take a seat, tell me all about the weather and what you wore this week.

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Oh, I wasn't in any rush.

[ he smiles, mouth and eyes closed-- there's nothing pleasant about the gesture, but nothing particularly hostile about it either. ]

Do they serve anything here actually fit for human beings to drink? [ he's not talking to the bartender, but the bartender scowls nonetheless. still, he sits down, making sure to wipe the seat with his palm before he does ]

Just get me what he's having. [ the bartender busies himself and kyrie finds time to do the same. ]

Before I get to that-- which one makes the blood rush to your head, cats or rabbits?

[ he's not really talking about animals, not quite. ]

[ jacopo snorts, rolling his eyes in turn. there's a strange sort of brutal honesty to kyrie's gesture that doesn't quite manage to irritate him. ]

No. That's why we're here. [ he smirks at the sight of kyrie's palm sweeping against the stool. ]

Are you sure? There's even more of what's on your seat in my drink.

[ he pauses, takes another swig, and flicks at his glass. ] Cats have the capacity to be predators. Rabbits are almost always prey.

Doesn't exactly matter though, since both can test for poison all the same. Oy, 'nother glass, thanks.

[ the bartender obliges, and jacopo contentedly eyeballs his whiskey. ]

You've gotten your fill of poetic psychoanalysis for the night. What have you got your sights on as of late?

Edited 2017-02-06 05:20 (UTC)

That had absolutely nothing to do with what I was talking about-- not in any capacity. [ despite that, he's still smiling ]

But thank you for that uninvited peek into your psyche, I have many things I'd like to ask your mother about.

[ the bartender sets down his drink and kyrie sniffs it warily as he speaks. ]

The usual really, snooping, watching and keeping an eye on other people's business. This city is surprisingly quiet in terms of unsavory activity-- which is good for our business prospects I suppose. But that in and of itself poses its own issues..

[ he decides against the drink, reminds himself to put it on jacopo's tab when he leaves. ]

But there are more important matters to discuss-- [ he reaches into the satchel on the stool behind him and pulls two head bands, both adorned with two different pairs of equally as furry ears. ]

Cats, or rabbits?

You're a god forsaken pain in the ass. I'll seriously pay you to speak your mind one of these days. [ jacopo's brows knit together, and he takes yet another brutish swig of his whiskey. ]

It's laughable, really, but it provides us with the opportunity to create monopolies with little competition. And then there's that new app -- it's completely suspect. My bets are on it being a means of phishing informa...

[ he trails off, his expression half vacant, half offended at the sight of...two, fuzzy accessories fit for...he's not quite sure given who's brought them. ]

I...doubt I would be the person you'd project your kinks onto, so I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that this vaguely pertains to some marketing scheme you have in mind.

[ he finishes off his glass before answering, and then proceeds to reach over and swipe kyrie's glass for himself. ]

Rabbits. You can never go wrong with the picture of purity -- especially when it's at someone else's mercy. They'll eat it right up.

Edited (i typo'd like three times dude) 2017-02-06 18:34 (UTC)

Well, I certainly appreciate your input. Asking your opinion was mostly for ceremony-- you're not exactly our target demographic. [ he sets both pairs of ears down on the bar with an unnecessary amount of care. the bartender is trying to hide his interest, but kyrie notices (he always does) ]

But yes, you can call it a marketing scheme. It might be a little premature but I thought it might be something to consider when we decide on uniforms for the waitstaff. [ he doesn't elaborate on which waitstaff and where. there's not really any need because frankly this is all they've been talking about for weeks. ]

From the looks of it we'll be able to break ground soon. [ he rests his elbow on the bar, cheek against his palm, smiling like he's got a secret he can't wait to share. ]

It might be a good time to reach out to the community. [ but he's not really talking about the average citizen. the average citizen can't really do much for people with goals like theirs. ]

[ it suddenly clicks, and he tilts his head like some sort of pressed Rottweiler. he leans forward and sets his drink down, a ceremonial indicator of interest. at least, for him. ]

You met someone, didn't you? Go on. Tell me about this "community" you've been speaking to.

[ he has to bite back the urge to command him-- the words 'down boy' are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them back, a bitter aftertaste following his stupendous show of self-control. ]

I didn't meet anyone-- not yet. It's a work in progress. [ he wonders how long he can avoid the point before his companion smashes that cheap glass of nail polish remover over his head. ]

I've been doing a little digging, looking at who already has their hands in the pots that we'd like to dip our hands into. And well, at this point in time I don't really think we have the means to create a more... competitive market, if you will. [ it's the most eloquent way he can say he'd rather avoid a turf war. ]

I propose we offer them a partnership instead. Expand markets, get each of ourselves a bigger piece of an untapped pie.

Edited 2017-02-18 03:50 (UTC)

[ his eyes narrow at the phrase 'work in progress' and he backs down, reaching for his glass yet again. jacopo heaves a somewhat tired breath. ] Forget the glass. [ he sets down a benjamin. ] Just hand me the bottle.

Out with it. I don't have all night. Tell me, who, what, when and where. I don't need the why, I know why.

[ impatient as always-- his nose wrinkles in distaste anyway, like he's not used to this treatment. ]

Highwind is her name, a one-woman operation from what I can see. She's been moving goods in and out of town, and she's done it fairly well. [ the bartender sets the bottle down and kyrie says a silent prayer for his companion's liver. he can't tell if jacopo actually liked the taste or if he was trying to impress someone. ]

A little sloppy sometimes from what my contacts tell me but I suppose that's where we might come in?

Highwind. [ he says it firmly and to himself, his expression something along the lines of contemplative. ] Sounds British. Color me surprised.

Elaborate. To start, what's her day job. Sloppy...I don't like sloppy, but I've always been in the business of fixing things.

[ another swig and a sigh, this time from a bottle rather than a glass. ]

smells like arsenic

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