In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
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[attr="class","shadowsHead"]Safety comes with a Price
Sometimes accidents happen and businesses need to be prepared for the worse. It is time to welcome the newest establishment in town into the neighbourhood by getting them on board with some reasonable and cheap Insurance Policies. They pay us and they won't have their store mysteriously catch fire. Make sure they willingly agree to come into the fold.
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]Details
Maximum Number of Players: 3
[break]Minimum Word Count: 2,000
[break]Location: Aries Garse
[break]Special Requirements: If you destroy too much of the store before the shop owner agrees to pay the money, they will call for the Guards and you will fail the mission.
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]NPC Information
What NPCs are in this mission? Please fill out the template for any notable NPCs. While those you have to socially interact with during the mission are not required any enemy that is presented in the mission must be listed here.
[break]Magic Element and Types: Fire/Wind | Attack Creation | Physical Reinforcement
[break]Combat Style:Using trained coordination and tactics they move quickly to disarm and arrest any who cause trouble in town. Using Physical Reinforcement to buff themselves and their allies to move faster and hit harder they have no qualms with going for the kill if they feel it is needed.
[break]Additional Information: Comes running if the Shop Owner calls for help, will be patrolling nearby.
”Sometimes accidents happened…” Connor trailed off absentmindedly as he practised his speech in the mirror, brushing his hair in frustration. Jobs like this were hard to come by, harder still because it was the nice part of the country side; Aries Garse, and Connor would have to be assertive albeit subtle. The merchant was your run of the mill noble, answering a supply and demand need or something like that. Connor couldn’t help but reflect on the menace that he would have to become, an easy stereotype would just have him calling for the guards. Certainty was not his right to bear as far as his employer was concerned, “Assurety was in the eye of the beholder,” said his witless contact. The man was ruthlessly simple and as far as he and his friends were concerned Connor was the man for the job, “Just tell him what’s what then forget about it,” he continued, as if it were the simplest task in the world. “First of all, it is beauty that is in the eye of the beholder; you’ve taken that phrase out of context…” The employer interrupted and gestured towards a chair, grinning a wolfishly toothy grin that spread from ear to ear, “Sit down.” By the gist of the sentiment Connor was curious, as to whether he entirely had a say in whether or not he could have refused, and was genuinely at a loss of words to retort with in the face of such a generous offer. Taking a seat; Connor was fundamentally challenged by nature, not to blend in with his surroundings, not to start cycling his reverse breathing tricks, and challenged ultimately to be at the mercy of a bigger fish. “Who exactly am I telling what, and why?” Connor queried for lack of something better to converse about, filling the silence between the two of them. The man only dismissed his query and proceeded to stand on Connor’s metaphorical toes for the umpteenth time, in as few as the three minutes they had known each other Connor was already picking a bone to break over the matter. “Not important, it’s the how much; you’re gonna tell him, and that’s that, sorted?” This guy was a joke and a punchline clipped into dark suedes, his pinstripes were nauseating, and although Connor could only really fault him on was his lack of accentuated inflection, you had to give the man his props. He was a three piece zinger down to the suit and tie. Their meeting ended shortly hereafter, Connor was offered a sandwich; tomatoes, cheese and lettuce, which he accepted with no real qualm. Further more it was insisted that he ate it prior his departure, which all in all; not being bad, was odd.
The man lightly slapped him a couple times, insinuating familiarity and actively breeding contempt, after which Connor was thrown out like he was a friend. Which meant that they didn’t throw him through a window or spit on him, it was only business after all. No need for things to get ugly or messy. Connor dusted himself off obviously disgruntled but otherwise expecting more or less, boom; the last thing he remembered was the sound of some greasy accent kicking him while he was down, “Badda Bing Badda Boom.” Startled Connor awoke, “What a cheesy so and so.” They had knocked him out and hauled him off down some street in Aries Garse, gambling with Connor’s own health and life just to keep their hideout anonymous. They had done the same thing bringing him in as well. Checking his teeth Connor stood and stretched out his sore limbs, rotating his forefingers against the grain of his shave and his temples respectively. One hell of a headache in the morning, he patted his clothes to see what he had to work with and was taken slightly back by his appearance in a nearby window. He was wearing one of their suits, pinstripes and suede. Flaunting what little desire he had; to be so well dressed, Connor hid his true feelings about the matter and what they did with his old clothes. Looking down he was relieved to notice he was wearing his regular attire underneath, however uncomfortable at least they didn’t undressed him after flattering him. Connor could probably sell the suit itself but resigned to at least wear it as a disguise for the time being, he looked regal although not in the least bit fashionable. It was just his fit, his aesthetic craved something more suburban but he made do with the lean of his rounded shoulders, which he had painstakingly crafted after hours of slumping. Making no mistake as to having as hollow an expression as possible, primarily his objective was to deliver a message and to get things done. To this merchant ’primary concern’was entirely arbitrary, probably a noble trying to rub elbows with the poverty to slum up some extra Yul. Connor didn’t make it personal, he himself was making a ludicrous amount of Yul doing just what he intended to do. Steal from the those who couldn’t sow.
His pockets were tucked neatly into their respective hidy holes with his hands fumbling a coin in each. Connor entered the merchants store nonchalantly and began critically analysing ever square inch of the locale. Familiar things caught his eye, chairs; they were replaceable, he picked one up and tested its weight. A perfect example of how bad things could be, Connor could have thrown it through a window; which is what he told the merchant, ”Accidents happen.” He ran his gloveless, pale finger down the wall; internally critiquing the wallpaper, externally telling the merchant it would have to be replaced and that Connor knew a guy who could do that real cheap. Pointing to the appointed fire place, the merchant picked up on what Connor was saying before he had even began insinuating how flammable the merchant himself was. Connor elaborated how the merchant would need to buy this particular brand of flame retardant hair cream; which in truth was very durable, and how Connor himself purchased it regularly. The glasses that were on the merchants face; they were inadmissible, as they were purchased from the wrong optometrist; should have went to spec savers. He was now made more aware of how glass could damage the human eye, he thanked Connor for his subtlety. It may have been embarrassing if anyone knew he was going blind. Counting off the top of his head and on his fingers, Connor relayed how woefully inept a lack of insurance could be, financially. Spreading his hands out on the table a number of Yul denominators fell to the floor, palming an intimidating amount of the kingdom’s currency was more than a magic show, it was a display of force for Connor. He metrically and imperially converted the by gram mass index of every dissimilar coin that was glinting in the light of the store, ferociously and calculatedly like he was a squadron of royal knights hired just to throw money and numbers around. The shopkeeper was horrified by his complex algorithms, his pythagoras was flawlessly astounding, Connor’s math was rendering the merchant as mute as a derelict who had swallowed his tongue.
The guards outside were none the wiser, patrolling the forsaken region like they were being paid to do it, which made sense as that was their job. But not one of them could help the merchant, Connor’s words struck him with a sense of panicked urgency. He ‘needed’ this insurance, the assurance of his safety was not certain and Connor made this abundantly clear by the time he started nonchalantly leaving. Sometimes the simplest con was the easiest con. “Look man; please, you need this insurance; there are demons and crazy people out there, in the forsaken region, I mean; it is a basic necessity.” Connor looked around; like that crazy person or demon was just around the corner or hiding in the cupboard, waiting to hurt this particular man, at any given moment.
Post by Jorah Von Shurke on Sept 4, 2021 13:39:53 GMT -5
”You want me to...help your little band of misfits profit over…”security”. You are the worst imaginary mafia...but yul is yul so I will take the job and go and talk to the business owner and get him to pay the fee. Is there anything more?” Jorah asked as he looked at the man across the table from him, the young man was...at least dressed sharply, but his manner of speech and bedside manner with people offered a job was just awful. He told Jorah there was nothing more, offered him a sandwich...a tomato and cheese sandwich at that… “Do I look like someone raised in a poor countryside squallor...I want a sandwich, I will take some prime rib, I saw your compatriot over there eating one, then I will take my leave. Don’t think you are going to kick me out like that poor schmuck you said you were going to hire.” He waited, and soon a man would come and bring the sandwich Jorah requested. The guy that hired him was...at least pleased that Jorah agreed, even though he was less than happy with how he treated his hospitality.
Jorah took a bite of the sandwich before chewing slowly and looking around the room, he could see that there were plenty of eyes on him. After swallowing the prime rib he wiped his mouth and then stood up and stuck his hand out to shake the fence’s hand. An agreement arranged and a deal made with the two parties and Jorah took his leave, the rest of the men in the little hideaway were infuriated at how Jorah just disrespected them and for a moment it was almost as if the men were going to go off on their own to beat the rogue up, but nobody moved as the boss of the men there finally revealed that if they had tried to make a move...Jorah would have killed them without a second thought. Jorah was whistling as he left the area, a catchy tune that he remembered listening to at a pub once. He seemed jovial and without a care as he strode into the small village, his eyes constantly scanning over the place...noting where exits were, where guard patrols moved around, and finally...where there were blind spots where he could avoid being seen. The Forsaken Region was unique though...he could blent in without much help and even if he was known in Rogues Refuge...the time it would take to reach here would at least give him some sort of head start.
With the sun starting to look past the noon hour he was looking for the business in question, but as it usually was in small towns...if one were to actually open their eyes then the answer for their troubles would be answered without much resistance. ”The Ranger’s Reprieve...that is at least a funny name, must be some sort of adventurer's shop. They want me to help intimidate this joint...well alright then I guess I better get this over with.” Jorah said as he walked into the shop with purpose, closing the door behind him as he heard a crash. His eyes immediately went to look around, but then he heard a voice talking to the merchant, so Jorah casually flipped the sign over to show that the business was closed for the day as he happened to join in after hearing the threat of a “fire sale” of redecorating. ” I know I do not need to really back up what my pale friend here is saying, but he is right...An upstanding merchant such as yourself knows how the world works right? If you do not have power you are inherently a target for those looking to prey upon the weak for a quick yul or for a cheap thrill.” Jorah examined a few items that were around the shop, but also let his words sink in for a moment before looking at the pale young man a few feet away from him. He then gave a wave and a friendly smile...even as his cold eyes bored into Connor. ”I believe our mutual benefactor can make sure that accidents like this are...taken care of...Nod if you understand what I am saying my good sir, we are not here to make trouble for you or your humble...place of business. We will be gone just as quickly as we arrived if you take what I am saying to you at heart and make a...wise business decision.” Jorah said this as he maintained eye contact with the man the entire time, if he took longer than a minute Jorah would signal Connor to break something, it was a subtle nod and a motion with his hand...if Connor did not follow he would not look away but instead tap the counter he now had walked up to. ”We are both terribly busy so I would like it if you understood this deal and kindly shake my hand before handing me the following amount of Yul so that I may deliver the good news to my...benefactor.” Jorah’s tone of voice NEVER turned at any time, it was like watching a well oiled machine do what they did best.
A man entered the store, Connor’s blood ran cold. Almost kind of like an octopus or squid trying to hide; although in plain view, Connor’s eyes slowly panned over to focus on Jorah. This guy was known, the steady gait, the ease, the overall genuine joviality and his gaze. A big fish was currently in the pool. Rather than recoil or run, Connor put his hands in his pockets and started looking for something that would perhaps protect him from this guy. Subconscious reckoning prevailed and Connor would portray himself to be as not apparent as possible. Hiding in plain sight; sharpening his knives, his acute senses telling him this was not the guy he wanted to take on, even for a cup of tea. Where the lack of anything apparent or tangible was, this guy filled in the vacuum of empty threats. The guards being none the wiser, the storekeep, being that he were at the peril of two stand-over merchants, the situation was feasible. Rather than upping it another notch, Connor decided to take it back a step brandishing one free hand, while juggling a half dozen Yul coins through his fingers in the other. The greedy glint in his eyes hungering for a mistake, had he the recollection to tote his Grimoire he may have, but as for now, it was idle and remained on the table to his left. His free hand tapped an impatient sum of two knocks on the wooden surface, “Gold has got some weight to it.”[/b] A vaguely sincere prospect of a threat as he summoned a single coin, “Change.” Connor said with the conviction of a man who needed to be paid. “Wealth is fleeting, sir… Gold lasts.” Using an honorific to keep him blindsided and the merchants eyes on the prize, Connor leant against the golem with a sincere amount of force. Pressing it through the table with enough force to splinter it, for good measure he kicked the wood; hefting it with his foot as it made a dry cracking sound under the weight. The hand sign that Jorah gave was rudimentary and fairly straightforward, Connor didn’t want to leave the place without breaking something, at the very least. Whether or not this was sycophantic was far from his thoughts, their prospective employers were adamant that a display of what ‘could’ happen was albeit unnecessary, it was expected after such an inane amount of positioning. Proffering no more than the general thematic, Connor pointed out how helpful insurance may have been; had he had it, for just such an occasion, “Insurance would have covered that.” Not wanting to outright bully the guy, Connor was given props to the extent that if he acted tersely, he was almost certain the taciturn thought processes of the merchant would be succinct enough to agree with the two of them. Being a Jack of all trades was a feeling second to none, the work practically did itself after a certain points and although he wasn’t turning on his heels to leave, he felt as though badgering the man further would be otherwise unnecessary. Noting the attitude of Jorah; a man who had yet to introduce himself, any more than, that they were ‘employed’ by the same fence, Connor was eager to learn a few more tricks to the trade. Where as Connor was devoid of a jovial sentiment, Jorah was more or less comfortable with the rigamarole of the rhetoric than Connor had previously ever seen. He took mental notes ascribing the overall reasoning one must have to be so blatant as to demand what one would have to ask for usually. This guy must be the real deal; the powerful sort of bloke you didn’t have to fancy a guess as to whether your best interests were at this man’s sole interest. Not withstanding the various debts that Connor had accrued, it made him sweat to think if he were on the bounty board for collection and made his mouth dry. Connor gestured towards Jorah, “This guy.” Almost uncertain about his presence, how much intake on the action was Connor’s primary concern. In hindsight, retrospective as it were, it seemed the employer didn’t entirely trust Connor to not mess up the job. Which was fine, for now.
Post by Jorah Von Shurke on Sept 7, 2021 19:01:05 GMT -5
Connor was at very first glance...unusual, maybe even just more brooding than the typical teenager, but when he came close and spoke, it rubbed Jorah the wrong way...the kid should have stayed in his own fucking lane and Jorah made a note to...educate him on this once the job was done. For now though, Jorah remained composed and leaned in as Connor went off once more to do his own thing, it was doubtful that the man would be able to control whatever outbursts he ailed from for long so Jorah was trying to make this short and sweet. With a sigh Jorah reached over and grabbed a slip of parchment and then wrote on it. ”Listen, I understand if you do not want to pay for the insurance, I also understand that you may want to alert the guards outside, but I can assure you that doing this would be VERY detrimental to your future and the future of your...establishment.” He said this as he finished writing on the parchment, telling the clerk that the man that came in before him and as of that moment…was wandering around looking for something else to smash. The parchment read that the pale man was an escapee from a local asylum, and that if he does not cooperate, then...it would not matter if the guards had been alerted. Jorah pointed to himself and gave a wry smile before pointing to the next little line of words...stating that he was Connor’s handler and that he would be the one to tell Conner when and what to do. Shortly after, he folded the piece of parchment and pocketed it.
” Now I believe we see eye to eye on this matter, yes?” Jorah said as he waited patiently for a moment...the merchant nodded quickly and looked like he wanted to say something. Jorah patiently reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pipe before looking for a set of matches, but coming up short. ”Pardon me, I know we are asking a lot, and that I might be overstepping my own line here, but do you happen to have a match?” Jorah asked politely and waited as the man looked scared at first, then mad at the rather boldness of Jorah before finally confusion and becoming scared as he looked at Connor once again and quickly fumbled with his own pockets before fetching a match and lighting Jorah’s pipe. ” Ah! Good man, I see you are reasonable after all. Well, if it is all the same to you, I would rather be out of this as soon as possible, and to be frank with you Mister?” Jorah gestures to the man as the merchant quickly answers…”F-Frank, Frank W-W-West...Please sir I have only been open for a few days, if I pay you...how will I feed my family?...” He tried to plead with Jorah, trying to appeal to his humanity. Jorah quickly understood the man and put a hand up and took a long drag from the pipe savoring the flavor before finally blowing smoke from the corners of his mouth as he spoke, looking the part of the devil himself. Mr. West...I see your dilemma, I really do...and I feel for your plight, however I too run a business and well...I know overhead when I see it. This is going to be the last time I am nice Mr. West...either pay the damn protection money so that the local fucking goons guard your store...or said local fucking goons will be ten times more inhumane than I...and I do not just mean towards you...your family, their friends...their pets...they do not give a flying FUCK if you actually pay or not, they will get what they want regardless. I am here to ensure you pay up and that the pale little demon over there remains calm so I can get paid for my damn job. Do you understand me?” Jorah was losing his patience with Mr. West and the merchant understood him quite clear, and swallowed hard as he began to fumble and gather up the yul needed to just pay the man, shaking the entire time...the faint scent of piss now filled Jorah’s nostrils. ”That was not so hard now was it?” Jorah said as he took a few more drags from his pipe, that earthy tobacco he got from Kikka...was not the best, but it was at least affordable considering that Kikka has been under a remodeling state for a while now. Soon Franklin West handed over a sack of Yul and Jorah counted...every...single...coin. It did not take him long as Jorah could tell by the weight of it that the merchant did not short them in this exchange.
”AH! The night is still young too Mr. West, Thank you for your patronage...I will ensure this payment is put into the hands of our benefactor, and there will be someone to visit you within the next couple of evenings to tell you the terms of your deal. It was a pleasure to do business with you, and I think I speak for both me and my pale associate over there when I say that we were NEVER...and I mean NEVER, for the sake of your life depending on this next answer...were here. Nod if you are in agreement with me Mr. West, I need to know that you are still calm.” Jorah had control of the situation and waited as the merchant slowly nodded and swallowed again. Jorah put away the yul, packed away his pipe and went to grab a broom and dustpan before cleaning the sharp broken objects from the floor, not once motioning for Connor to leave. But after a few moments of straightening up, Jorah looked at Connor and motioned to the door. ”We have places to be ghost boy...let’s get a move on or you don’t eat.” Jorah said as he kept it quite short and sweet before switching the sign back to open and walking out right after a guard patrol left the area. Jorah was already on the move, and if Connor did not keep up...well that was no longer his damn problem, it meant a bigger cut for himself and he would have to wait for another opportunity to present itself to educate young Connor on how he spoke in public.
Connor almost chuckled at the insinuative stance this kind of work took with some people, the persuasive limerick was almost poetry to his ears. The pleasing sound of Yul transferring hands, at whose ever cost; it always had a unique flavour to it, how ever it occurred. Never had any one person been so relieved to part ways with their cold, hard-earned money, as this merchant had been. After all the problematic causalities were outlined, Connor could only imagine the genuine happiness this much money had brought to the man, that it would soon impart on Connor himself. Unlike the worry that may have concerned the man having the whole sum total, Connor’s relief would be whet when they split the cash; the jovial man who took lead, was very professional and almost hospitable but something about divvying someone else’s money in-front of them seemed unwise. Taking the initiative upon himself to follow behind Jorah, Connor’s breathing relaxed and while it was probably unlikely that he noticed him, he followed at the pace he would require to not be outright lost in the crowd of people. Assumptions were a dangerous vocation, some times the mark didn’t take any of the the false facing and would hoon down a squadron on you. With all the confidence of a man backed up by the wizard king himself, Connor had run into half a dozen swing and miss associates that hadn’t handled the situation as half as smoothly as Jorah had naturally. Appearing half as enthusiastic as he usually did when completing a task, he may have pat Jorah on the back but thought about it and didn’t feel like having a knuckle sandwich sunk into his miserable expression. So, instead he cleared his throat to get the man’s attention, not entirely being one to be conversational or friendly, but, trying to be none the less. Wanting to impress the jovial Jorah, he started with flattery; which was known to get you far, then he tried using manners, which in turn had gotten Connor much further. “Good job, thank you very much; much obliged.” Being internally not as social as he would have liked to be, he offered his naive self as a person willing to learn from the man who was quite obviously more comfortable in this line of work. A good counterpart was difficult to find, an amalgam that was easy to work with was harder still. Not wanting to mess up a good working relationship by anything he’s said or done, he apologised, “Sorry if I made things more difficult than they needed to be, thanks again. Much appreciated.” Compressing the need to hide from the man, he eased himself into another breathing exercise before nervously broaching the subject about their employer. “Coin is coin.” Connor said socially, the only thing of import that would be more or less conveyed was in his tonal accentuation. Misleading people had become a way of life for Connor, and he was getting more familiar with being less familiar as the days dragged on, one after the other. He tried to sound only so desperate as one might need to maintain his part of the cut, a weary edge from lingering on the thought of a long day getting longer. All in all, it was a good take.
Post by Jorah Von Shurke on Sept 9, 2021 14:00:14 GMT -5
Of course Connor followed him, he was the payday...the meal ticket...he would be an idiot to not get what was his. However Jorah was noticing that the young man was taking his time and keeping his distance. When he finally entered the alley he noticed that the pale mage was courteous and almost robotic in how he spoke and thanked him. Jorah was about to tell him to forget it but he instead chose to use this moment as a way to teach. ”In the future, whether we happen to work together, or if you are going solo I want you to watch...our lives depend on subtle...hints that are around the area. You did well to make a few instances of trouble to back up our claim and I used it to our advantage. When you work with a team though...take a hint that if one person is being the face of the team, then the other should take on a different role. Your certain...qualities helped us in this situation as muscle, or even a wildcard. A final piece of wisdom though, always clean your messes unless told to specifically make a scene. Now...let's go get our meager payment for this job. Perhaps next time you can do the talking and I will be the muscle. As for making things harder than they needed to be, it is water under the bridge...use this as a way of teaching.” Jorah spoke before a round of resounding laughter as he moved through the alleyway to that dingy little club entrance where this little gang was hiding out.
Walking into the building Jorah walked forward and up to the table the fence was at, their contact and placed the sack of yul on the table before looking into the man’s eyes. ”Payment in full for protection, no words spoken to the town guards and now you are a sack of yul richer, don’t worry about counting it. I already did...twice.” Jorah spoke with confidence and a look on his face to show he was a completely different person when dealing with business. The gang leader looked at Jorah with a challenging stare as if just waiting to say something to the middle aged rogue, of course he could also not let it stand when someone who is just doing a job came in and talked like that to him. Jorah waited for a few moments before the boss just snapped his fingers and then was presented with two small sacks with yul in them. ”Alright wise ass, take your cut, but you also let the ghost behind you come in without being escorted without a bag on his head so we are going to have to take…” He did not finish as Jorah had taken a knife and thrown it at the chair next to the man’s head. It stuck with a resounding snap as the metal knife stuck into the wood, splintering a few pieces off. ”You have asked for services, which we have rendered...despite how you all treated him in the beginning, how else was I supposed to bring you back your damn money, now please...do not insult me again and hand over the payment for the services we rendered.” Jorah said with a calm voice before the man nodded and Jorah was given two sacks of yul, and just like that Jorah handed Connor his sack of yul and told him to come along. Jorah was a man that either was not scared of death...or he was incredibly stupid...which he was...was not shown in this moment.
Once outside he would make sure Connor would be following him out, he did not want anymore surprises on this little errand and he needed to finish putting some plans in motion especially if his orphanage was to become more a hideout for himself than an actual place of business. He looked at Connor and then gave him a confident thumbs up before speaking once more. ”Well, we did our job and now we are paid, I am sure we will be seeing each other again, and if it is any consolation to what happened inside of there, they will not be bothering you while they are thinking I am somewhere nearby. Perks of being a known criminal I have to say are quite fetching. Anyway, I must be on my way and I am sure we have stuck around here for long enough. Try not to get caught by a guard or a Magic Knight on your way out, also...if anyone asks, you do not know me. It is best if it remains that way, for more your sake than mine.” He said as he buttoned up his jacket, and pulled the collar up before disappearing into the street to walk amongst the other night life. He did not stick around for any sort of retort from Connor, and he was at least fast enough to where he did not keep in sight of the major streets for long.
Once outside of the job area he made his way to the orphanage, taking back roads to ensure that he could travel without much hassle, a stop along the way and he was at an information broker named Sam. Sam was a very capable woman that had a network of “talkers” she liked to call them, He dropped her by some yul and told her to spread the information that the orphanage has been sold and the former owner has since gone on the run for misdeeds against Clover. It was not something elaborate, but he did change his name...going by the moniker of “Father Tywin” now when at the orphanage he would make sure to let the little ones know about his name if he ever needed to...it was quite the night after all and he could not wait to get to his bed and rest his eyes.
Connor sympathetically nodded along to the sentiment without a hint of conviction, all of it was good advice, he how ever was not the receptive sort. His thoughts idiosyncratically already shifting to what he would have liked to do with the money. The possibility of work in the future had Connor prick up his ears, not wanting to appear disinterested he resolutely bargained with himself to listen a little closer. Connor followed suit and entered the establishment of their prospective employers, a certain zest in his step that came with finishing a job. The worst part being over and done with, Connor regarded them with snide recognition. Our enemies deserve our forgiveness but only after they are hanged, he errantly mused to himself not forgetting how callously he had been treated. Reparation was scant, Connor wore their clothes but didn’t share their sympathies, he had no real intention of returning the three piece. It fit well after all, and clothing this expensive was hard to come by. He unbuttoned the top button for some breathing room while Jorah conversed with them. The knife wobbled after having made the statement it was meant to, impressive marksmanship thought Connor. Pity it hadn’t sank right into the mafioso’s forehead, lettuce and tomatoes; how indignant. Being served nicer food when Connor was capably thought of as a noble was hard enough to live without, without some assholes rubbing it in with tomatoes and lettuce. There was no meat to the claim of tax, even Connor’s hackles were raising at the insinuation of a tithe or fee because this ‘secret’ hideout wasn’t that secret anymore. Jorah spoke of the benefits of being a known criminal, a sentiment that Connor didn’t exactly share but one he listened to regardless. His bid for anonymity, that was something Connor agreed with, “Ditto; right back at you, have a nice day.” Connor himself didn’t have too much planned for the rest of the day, being that it were nice enough, he thought of some lavish gift to buy himself to allay his current concerns of being caught. Nothing to prosecute him with if he didn’t have the money, having to keep one step ahead of the breadline was no longer a problem after this job. He secretly blessed the man for having appeared as he did, Jorah would be an excellent associate, and Connor felt slightly more confident just having been acquainted with him. Connor, being a small fish, had less to worry about now that he had swam prone beneath a shark of a predator. He could already here the whispers that coursed through the streets, not one of those words about him, and this sat well with Connor. Anonymity was a dagger that he couldn’t afford to relinquish as of yet.
Word Count: 473 Total Word Count: 3120 -exit-
Last Edit: Sept 10, 2021 22:48:07 GMT -5 by Connor
