RP:What's in the Box?

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

(Log from March, 2022)

Location: The Jolly Roger, Rynvale

Summary: Cleaning up the Jolly Roger after a long hiatus of chained doors, ‘Ace’ gives a generous donation to an underground ‘charity’ while an unexpected delivery arrives from Lithrydel’s greatest trickster… in the guise of Quintessa.

The Jolly Roger

There was some life in the old warehouse again, even if it was only the two occupying the building, at first. As promised to him, boxes of supplies were packed and stacked inside the Jolly Roger’s painted metal doors and the ledgers and maps he’d brought from the ship in his satchel were dropped on a table that still needed some dusting and cleaning, two chairs turned rightside up from their perch on the surface. Lamps were lit here and there for the sake of Loravelle’s vision since there were only a few windows to let in light up high, near the rafters. He wasted no time drawing a black-steel butterfly knife from back pocket, twisting it open with a click of metal handles coming together, using the thin but sturdy blade to pry open tacked boxes since he didn’t have a handy crowbar on hand, but the air of his enhanced strength made up for it. A mental note made that he’d definitely need to add one to the list of inventory Simon was working on scrounging up, but the efficient colleague that he was, the cleaning supplies and a shipment of beverage had come into stock near empty shelves once they were polished up, too. Shuffling through the first container, Leo stood and looked to his book keeper to toss an apron her way. The rest she could mill through to see what she had to work with. “You want a drink? I got apple brandy in here… spring wine. Water, if you’re feelin’ wild.”

Loravelle forgot that at some point during their travels back and forth from Gualon, she had brought another bag of spare clothes and her medication over to Rynvale. This meant delaying a visit to the clothier up north and a healer, potentially, for a little bit longer. After tying the apron Leo tosses her way, she twists her lengthy hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and covers it up with a headscarf. She's cleaning today. No need to try looking nice. “Drinking and cleanin' sounds dangerous, Leo,” she teases. Wine after the bitterness of her medicine did sound nice, though. “I'm feeling dangerous. Wine sounds good.” She'll risk getting too aggressive with a broom or something. While peeking into the opened boxes delivered to his warehouse to get her bearings, Lora casts a glance his way, then to the space she'd get to scrubbing down soon. “Anywhere that's off-limits to me?” People she served in the past were picky about where she could and couldn't touch, and while the circumstances here were vastly different, one never could be sure.

Lita is in a good mood. It's rare but happens. Between Chartsend and Cenril it's been a good week. She veers towards the Jolly Roger en route to the beach when she hears familiar voices though. Perpetually barefoot, her dress still damp, wet curls clinging to her cheeks and shoulders. But she's smiling, glancing around and inspecting the boxes at random as she waves absently at Leo and Lora. Her coat is slung over her arm and it's the only thing still dry. "I'm glad you're here, I have something for you." She says to Leo, fishing through a coat pocket for a leather pouch of coin. "Or maybe you? Not sure." Did she hear something about wine? "You finally fixing up the place?"

Leoxander raised a brow as he lifted the box of spirits and wines, glancing her way at her comment on the way to the bar to set it down on the counter. There were probably some wine glasses similar to what she’d been served in at the Inn, but he just grabbed two cut glasses that were sandblasted with a vague depiction of a skull and crossbones to fill one from a green glass bottle labeled in elven script with the fragrant but lighter white wine, the other a clear, more squared bottle with a stopper for some potent scotch whiskey. By the time he was pushing Lora’s glass to the other side of the counter and lifting his own, he was paused when Lita appeared in the open doorway, having left it propped open for a little extra lighting. “You swim here, or what?” He noticed the wet drips and possibly sandy footprints trailing in, but fortunately for her it was cleaning day. “Fixin’ it back up, you might say.” The maidservant’s question was delayed with an answer due to Lita’s arrival, but he set his glass down to retrieve one for Lita to let her take her pick between the two bottles he’d opened on the bar. “Should be fine, though you might wanna tread softly in the basement. Been awhile since I been down there.” Attention returned to the dark haired vampire with brow furrowed in confusion, no glare evident on his expression. The rogue seemed to be content that day, too. “To what accord?” He didn’t recall her owing him any coin, but maybe that was why he hired Loravelle to handle the books.

Loravelle decides wiping down tables and chairs and dusting everything made more sense to do first. Then she could just go over the floor once and not have to backtrack. Finding rags was easy enough after drinking some of the wine Leo poured for her (she squints at the oddly-shaped glass. Where in the world does one get their hands on things like this?), and just as she's about to get started with cleaning up a table, Ace walks in. Did she get rained on or pushed into the ocean? She must be chilly... Poor Lora doesn't know that her new friend is a vampire yet. Concerned, she decides to take a peek in one of those boxes again for towels. If there are any, she'll bring one over to Ace if she wants it. “I'm helping.” Was that too cheery of a tone to have over being a little useful? Over cleaning? Probably. She hasn't figured out how to talk tough yet. Chances are, the timid girl might not ever figure it out.

Lita manages a mock laugh for the pirate's question about whether she'd swum here. "Just about." She manages. Lucky for him, the little anklet she wears with bone charms keep her feet clean. A necessity when you go traipsing around barefoot. Though there are likely some damp footprints following her inside. She inspects the bottles he's opened on the bar and points to the wine. She'd had a fair share of cheap whiskey on her way through Cenril. Wine sounds nice in the aftermath. She slides the pouch of coin across the bar in the direction of Leo and Lora. "Consider it a gift for the guild. And the dress." She remembers. Even though she'd cut out of the soiree early, the thing was still stashed in the back of her closet. Lora earns a smile for the offered towel. "Thanks little mouse." She teases, draping the towel around her neck as she lays her coat on the bar. "Sorry about the water. I guess this is actually for you, since you're keepin' the numbers now." She reaches for the bag of coins again to hand it over to Lora instead. Probably best. Leo would waste it on more yard sale glasses.

Leo knew that Lita knew (like everyone knew) how the wolf-pirate loathed playing the role of bartender, but given that she’d come bearing gifts, he wasn’t going to deny her a first pour, scooting the bottle significantly within her and Lora’s reach to indicate they could help themselves, after that. He could tell it was a significant amount of coin in a glance, not only by the size of the pouch or the weight when it was picked back up, but even just the way those precious metals clattered against each other in the transfer to the book keeper, to who he nodded to if she gave him a look for permission. Her first receipt and now their first funding, good thing he’d brought along those ledgers to go over with her when the cleaning project was done. “We’ll make good use of it, cross my heart.” The rogue spoke low, and was even more subtle with his question, purposefully not mentioning a city or specific place. “You seen the den, yet?” Despite the Soirees and escaping to his ship, he’d been busy with the reconstruction of their new hideaway. One a lot less obvious than the basement below their feet.

Arlyeon is on a mission, today. Several, in fact. The first and foremost of these missions is simply a matter of experimentation- as the Foxkin is trying to figure out -how- Leo keeps picking up on who she is behind her guises. It's the sort of thought experiment that simultaneously grinds her gears, and gets them going. The first step of course, was to pick a guise- and today's shenanigans called for something special- which, in this case, meant stealing the guise of someone who belonged in that locale. Namely, Quintessa- because she'd -probably- be fine with the prank. Maybe. Getting the look right's a -bit- tricky, sometimes. It's not the clothes, in this case, even despite Quintessas title of baroness- given elegance can be exchanged for the practicality of creaking black leathers better suited for a job. No, what Ina struggles with is more the expressions- trying to find the right balance of 'enthusiasm and underlying murder'. Without just ramping into looking outright unhinged. Still, it -ought- to suffice, at least for a bit. The second part was dealing with the finer details- like obscuring her scent with a perfume meant to diminish her own natural scent, before layering on a horrid mixture of black pond water, a bit of grime from the dark forest, and some trace bits of magical detritus leftover from what some of the other mage apprentices had been doing earlier in the day. And yet, Ina doesn't just end things there. No, she even takes into account the cadence of her own steps, a small cantrip issued so as to muddle the noise of her approach, in case that could betray her. It's this final step that leaves Ina peering down at herself, "Fergettin' anythin'? Nah." With a shake of her currently raven black hair, the shapeshifter straightens up, adjusts the small package she's carrying so it's held under the crook of her arm, and then begins to make her way inside- doing her best to take her time. She's got mischief on her mind, sure- but she's in no rush.

Loravelle ;; It felt good having some sort of purpose apart from cleaning, even if the momentarily wide-eyed look on her face at the weight of that bag of coin handed over to her by Ace might be misread as shock or fear, or something. Wow. She absolutely does shoot a look Leo's way, mostly to gauge where she should put Ace's gift for safe keeping. She'll have to count it later. “You're welcome, and thank -you-.” Leaving it out on the counter seemed extremely unwise, even if in good company, so she'll shove it in her jacket pocket for now and get to work cleaning up and listening while Lita and Leo chat, along with whoever else might wander on in, like that changeling girl whose name she's drawing a blank on. Did she ever learn it?

Lita manages a wink at Leo at mention of putting coin to good use. She'd never have much use for money, outside of keeping the shop up, though Cal took care of most of that in truth, since she had a habit of disappearing for months on end with little to no notice. His motives are selfish though, with the keep beneath the shop and all. Mutually beneficial destruction, that one. "I haven't yet," she answers Leo, "just got back into town from Chartsend, but have plans to stalk it soon, promise."

Lita doesn't recognize Quintessa, but she glances over her shoulder and lofts a brow at the newcomer, intrigued, sipping at her wine.

Lita said to Loravelle, "I'm making another batch of temporary tattoos for Meri’s littlie. Anything you'd want me to make for yah while I'm at it?"

Loravelle said to Lita, "I like plum blossoms... I think they're my favorite flower."

Mahri needed a drink. Or maybe five. She’d made her rounds and found herself back at the Jolly Roger. Strolling through the door, the wolf glances at the faces before relieving Leo of his reluctant bartender duties, if he’s on the other side of that bar he’s going to find the beta’s hip bumping him out before she reaches for a glass – inspected for cleanliness – and a bottle of whiskey to pour for herself. That first drink goes down fast and the glass is refilled. Feeling more or less herself at that point, Mahri asks, “I miss anything good?” Mahri side-eyes ‘Quintessa’. Something was a little off. Maybe it was her scent. Or mannerism. It was just ~something~. Choosing to ignore it for now, the wolf downs the second drink before pouring a third and offering the whiskey around to anyone who wanted it.

Lita clinks her glass gently against Loravelle's in acknowledgement. "Consider it done." Said with a nod and she glances sideways at Leo but leans into Lora to offer a whispered comment. Lita whispered something to Loravelle.

Arlyeon continues to stride forward, tapping into the image of Quintessa's self assured movements when they had raided Olrics temple. Deliberate, purposeful, heedless of the scrutiny of others- and ultimately bringing her to a stand at the counter near Loravelle. It's only then that she plants the package down on the surface, and turns to settle her back against it- her mismatched gaze flickering over the Jolly Rogers interior with a look of feigned boredom. Admittedly, a small part of her is sort of hoping Quintessa will show up- if only because of the brief confusion that'd likely cause. Also, because it would mean that the foxkin would be able to eschew wearing heels. Cripes.

Loravelle really does need to get out more. She's never clinked glasses with anyone -ever- and is absolutely delighted by it. Temporary tattoos sounded exciting too. When Ace leans in to whisper, she doesn't say a word but her lips spread into a little smile, and a quick nod. Her eyes wander toward Mahri, and the maid waves at her before she finishes off her glass of wine. She doesn't pour another glass for herself, thinking one is enough for now. “How much are tattoos, Ace? Or does it depend?” She understood they hurt, but it might be worth it to get a few. Her mother will kill her for it if she ever finds out, though...But that worry fades when False Quintessa, who Lora wouldn't know is False Quintessa, sets a package down on the counter. Assuming it isn't for her, she decides to get back to cleaning tables and pushing a broom around to clean the JR up a bit.

Leoxander nodded in turn to Lita’s promise, and after consuming the expensive scotch in his glass (probably where the funding was going. Not really.), he headed toward the still dusty table with two chairs propped upside-down and two upright to his duffle, removing a red leather bound book that had its own little padlock and a stack of parchment - some drawn maps and blueprints - returning to the bar to place it down but no key was produced for Loravelle yet, since another figure, make that two, appeared in the open doorway. Mahri, obviously, had more trust than the majority of the women in that room. Quintessa, she was once a protégé of sorts, but almost immediately there might be something in her stride, her posture, the look of her stare or expression that didn’t settle right in with his instincts. “How about some stickers?” He interrupted before Loravelle could answer as he poured himself another drink. Without waiting for any reply or reaction, he raised his stubbled jaw toward ‘Quintessa’. “Didn’t think I’d see you here anytime soon.” His nose twitched. Since when did the assassin wear a perfume that would give her position away in the shadows? To Mahri: “Jus’ in time to help me stock the bar, babe.”

Mahri snickered at Leo but was distracted by the clink of glasses and whispering before she could even make her way down to get full bottles to replace empties. “Later, baby. I’m on a mission.” She punctuates that statement with a raised glass, indicating the mission at the moment. ‘Quintessa’ gets another eye-balling but now at the back of her head and she itches to reach for that package. Her nose twitches. Swamp water or perfume, both stank somethin’ awful.

Leo made no reach for that package. He enjoyed cleaning about as much as he enjoyed tending the bar, but relieved of one Leo took a barcloth to begin wiping down the empty shelves with that old flag pinned up in the background, then began removing bottles from the saw dusted crate to line up in some disorderly fashion. Only chaos, here. Poor Lora would have some more to sweep up back there by the time he emptied the first.

Arlyeon may have been braced for the subtle scrutiny of others, but it was Leo's attention that she'd been waiting for- to see if that tinge of annoyance entered his features. Especially given how adept she was at provoking irritation or exasperation. And it's not there, not entirely- but he was scrutinizing TwinnerTessa, even as he spoke to Mahri. It's enough to provoke a fairly accurate fascimile of the changelings far-too-sharp-by-half smile, "I was hoping things might finally be picking up." Always helped to lie with the truth- and while Ina may not have the skinny on -why- Tessa was there, her presence meant something. And she'd no doubt been affected by the organizational disarray as much as anyone else was. "Or, was that you saying you're a bit busy right now?" The smile momentarily sharpens,- fueled by memories of that mercurial shift in temperament.

Mahri is gonna leave Leo to deal with this Quintessa, noticing Loravelle up on stage she takes her glass and wanders over, probably passing Lita on the way – which reminded her, she needed a bit of new ink. Stepping up, she makes the comment, “Needs a pole, maybe. Made of brass…” Then, to Loravelle, “Th’ heckin ya don’?” Only one word wasn’t actually the word that came out of her mouth. “C’m on and sit with us, have another drink, clink glasses or whatever tickles your fancy.”

Leoxander glanced Lita’s way. “Since yer here, I had a thought.” He paused in his ‘work’ to refill his drink from the same bottle Mahri was sharing, motioning with his filled glass toward the seating and cabinets of skin-inking equipment in the corner. “I know your shop’s well enough equipped, but I think I’ma get rid of those and forfeit the competition to direct ‘em your way. Had another thought for the space, anyhow.” It took a moment, a deliberately long pause, for him to address ‘Tessa’ again. “Given that you’ve not said more’n a word or look my way in five seasons. What’s in the box, Tess’?” Asked as he made no obvious show of looking her up and down with suspicion as he continued on with the work Mahri had forfeit assisting him with to corner her mouse.

Loravelle 's head tilts just a fraction at the mention of a pole. Why a pole- Oh. Right. Rogues. Surprisingly, the mouse doesn't balk at this. “I prefer steel ones. Better grip. A-and I...I was just cleaning,” and getting distracted by musical instruments. But mostly cleaning, honest. She smiles at Mahri, briefly glancing away toward the rest of the space she hasn't touched yet with rag, broom or mop. “How have you been?”

Leo was drawn to look the She-wolf and Mouse’s way hearing that. Uh. What?

Arlyeon may have Leo's hackles up, but she's still going to count this as a win- if only because he doesn't seem to have placed it as Ina, and skipped to being absolutely done with her bullsh-. Yet. That said, the intrinsic suspicion was hard to miss- and made even weirder to the foxkin given Tessa's presence at one of the recent get togethers Which begged the question- was this bait meant to identify her as someone who -wasn't= privvy to the fact that Tessa had been at the party? Perhaps bait meant to clarify her as one of the eople who -had- been present. The mind boggles, but it doesn't stop Ina from replying. And she's at least got something recent to dredge up, that fond tone of voice, and the expression that had accompanied it- when Tessa had talked about Karasu, whom freckles (to his dismay) reminded her of. "It's for the girl." Non-specific helps. "I didn't think you were that deep in your cups after the tourney. Maybe that's why finding works still slow." Oof. Wow. Harsh.

Mahri almost choked on her next swallow of whiskey. Coughing to cover it up, Mahri presses the back of her hand to her mouth. "Steel, huh?" She's seriously considering... no, nope. Leo'd never really go for the idea anyway. "Been alright. Still alive.

Lita was momentarily distracted. Mahri thought something about a pole and she's not inclined to disagree, just hoping she can learn to read minds before the woman continues that thought... but Leo's following Loravelle's question on about tattoos, so she'll pay attention to that. "Depends on a few things, really. Size, location, time and materials. Though I'm usually inclined to offer friends freebies." The tourists were what really kept the lights on anymore. Even on days when she was tired of doing mermaids, anchors and butterflies, she'd stick it out. "Did a piece once, girl wanted this fancy floral bit done in this pretty pigment made with those Frostmaw flowers with gold. Beautiful really but a pain in the butt to source enough for pigment." She grins at Mahri over her glass as she looks to the pirate. "I wouldn't be adverse to the business. Though if you ever want to take it up sometime, there's a chair for yah. Still need someone to fix my fox." Though she'd been bugging him about it forever now, it seemed.

Loravelle nods as if what she just said is the most blasé thing in the world. This is dancing talk, one of the few things the mouse feels any sort of confidence talking about. With the broomstick in her hand anchored down a little bit to the floor with one hand, she tries to explain even though it's considerably thinner than any pole she's ever spun around on. “Yeah, brass can get too slippery if it's humid, so I have a steel one in Gualon.” Then she sort of simulates hopping off of the ground while hanging onto the broomstick, and sluggishly twists her body around it and back down to the floor. She can't really do any inverts or fan kicks on this flimsy thing. “Aerial contortion is fun too, but...” Her head tilts toward the ceiling at the rafters. “I haven't done it in a long while.” Then Lita has her attention again, eager to learn more about tattoos. Freebies? Well that just won't do. Lora would have to give Ace something.“I think if I ever get one, I'd want all black tattoos...” And all flowers. Just cover Lora in a garden of 'em.

He distracted himself with his inventory stock, and a sidelong comment between the conversation happening between Lita, Lora, and Mahri. “Tha’ jus’ means you’ll owe her, when she says ‘freebies’.” A teasing caution, as he didn’t doubt Lita would follow through on a favor, particularly after the gold she’d contributed to the underground composition that was forming, gradually. Having a crowd drawn to that old warehouse again definitely riled a boost of confidence that it wasn’t all for moot. He replied to Lita in turn. “Maybe we could each take an arm an’ break her in quick like.” Did he enjoy terrifying the timid maiden? Yeah, maybe a bit. And she’d lost a lot of fear of him over the weeks to keep her on her toes. “What say you bartend here now an’ again and I’ll return the favor in your shop?” He knew ‘Ace’ had the know-how for the job, given their history, just as she would know his. Finally, the crate was empty, the lid tacked back with a drop of fist in substitute for a hammer before he pushed it toward the basement door. He fixed his eyes, which flickered in the light of several lit lanterns in that besital way, toward Ina. Despite that she declared it wasn’t for him, he suspected -which- girl she meant, and approached it with a butterfly knife unfolding into view in his hand again to pry or cut the package open. But rogue hands were careful not to destroy whatever was inside. He’d risk it rather than let Loravelle open her present.

Lita is only half listening to Leo as she's eyeing Loravelle's dance routine. When she finally turns to look at the pirate again, a slow devious grin spreading across her features, "This makes so much more sense now." She buries her amusement in downing her glass of wine. "But yeah, that sounds fun

Lita said to you, "But yeah, that sounds fun. Definitely don't mind causing some trouble 'round here from time to time. And I'll be able to catch up with Mouse, here."

Mahri watches that little half routine while listening to Mouse. She knew nothing about dancing, any dancing let alone dancing on poles and aerials. "Oh," is all she can really think to say about that. But then talk of tattoo's brings her back around. "I need another one, too." Lita said to Mahri, "You know where the shop is!" She yells teasingly, sticking her tongue out at the woman. 'Cause she's classy like that. "Doors're open anytime."

Arlyeon isn't quite sure how to feel. On one hand, he'd flicked out a knife and gone over to the package -despite- the lack of invitation, but on the other hand- that look he'd reserved for her was -delightful-. It made her wonder if there was some bit of subtext she'd managed to touch on- a point of interest she'd be sure to poke Tessa about later. As for the present- Well, if he was going to unwrap the gift, she may as well call over the recipient. "Hey- I went out of the way to get you a gift, and you're not even here to see it. And I was pretty careful to get what you were looking for." Sufficiently mysterious, sure. Would it be enough to pique her interest? Plausibly- given Leo was proximal. And sure, this exchange is apt to tip her hand as to her identity- but the signed card inside was going to do that anyways.

Mahri said to Lita, "I'll be seeing you soon, then!" Mahri 's turning back to Lora and tilting her head towards the bar. "Put the broom down, it'll be there tomorrow. C'mon, have some fun for a while. Also," she pauses to squint eyes towards 'Tessa', "someone brought you something."

The rogue didn’t see Loravelle out of the corner of his eyes. He’d keep telling himself that. Damn wolf peripheral vision. No. It was the mysterious package he was focused on and perhaps too blindly distracted to do the usual cautious checks on it.

Loravelle wasn't sure if she did a bad job or not - bad presumably, considering she just twisted herself around a broom and there's nothing real special about that – but she's uncertain what to make of Mahri's comment. Maybe what she did was offensive? “Sorry,” she murmurs, moving to prop the broom up against the nearest wall. The stage is at least cleaned up, so mission accomplished. She'll head back down to see what Leo and Quintessa are up to, a bit curious herself about what might be in the package for 'the girl'. Turns out she's The Girl, so she...overly cautiously, after Leo has already gone to the trouble of taking a knife to it, opens it. Once it's opened, it takes a moment for Lora to register what she's looking at. Then, her mouth falls open and she wants to bury her entire face inside of her headscarf due to the implications of every single thing inside of that box. The rope, the collar, the...whatever that amalgam of lace and ribbons is that is definitely not something she would ever be caught alive in, and the card. “"One way to show someone you're theirs" ~ With a fox tail as the signature." There are candles in here too? Gods above. Lora wants to swear. She tries to cover the contents of the box up before anybody else can take a peek and glares at False Quintessa. That's the bookie polar bear-crow-naga that walked in on her and the rogue's conversation a while back…

Arlyeon is just -basking- in this moment, the smile on her stolen face all her own. This reaction is worth -everything-.

Mahri is right behind Lora and already leaning in to peek over her shoulder to see what she'd gotten. She caught just enough of a glimps that a laugh bursts out before she snorks it back with a hand to her mouth. Mahri has to turn away to compose herself.

Leo half expected some explosive to erupt in his face. Which… in a figurative sense, it kinda did. At first his brow furrowed in confusion at the rope. He had enough stock of lines on the ship. Reluctantly, he reached in, making sure the twine was not poison infused or such, but the collar rattled in tact as it came out of the package with it, and he spotted the card. The candles. Opting to silently draw the square parchment with print up with his free, branded hand, he is entirely taken from the who’s who on ‘Quintessa’s’ presence, though he’d definitely confirm after initial shock that this wasn’t ‘Fang’. Even if Loravelle gets there in time to grab the rest, he’s still holding the binding up slightly in grip while reading the message on the card, oh so hesitantly turning his head to look at the ‘timid mouse’ with her broomstick aerial talents. An arch of a brow is all he can manage, at first, frozen while displaying the… well, hell. He might be a notoriously vile pirate with a bad reputation, but he wasn’t sure what to call this.

Mahri , once she has herself under control, turns to see Leo holding half the oh-so-thoughtful gift in hand. Just the look on his face has the beta coughing back another laugh but she can't help the half-grin at his expense.

Loravelle is more than embarrassed. Her face is beet red, but she's finally boiled over into anger. Still glaring at Quintessa, now revealed to be Ina, she, well...squeaks, mouse that she is. It's more of a shriek. “What the f-” Let's just say the JR has ghosts and one of them conveniently smashed one of those cymbals on the drum kit on the stage. “-is your problem? This isn't funny!” She doesn't really know what else to do with herself then. Not so prone to violence anymore, instead of getting physically aggressive toward Ina, she just walks out, slamming the door behind her. She doesn't walk too far away from the building but she does try to find some unoccupied alley to lurk in and gather her herself.

He wasn’t quite sure what was betrayed in his expression just yet.

Arlyeon is remarkably good at keeping a straight face sometimes, which is why she can turn towards Lora and afford her an entirely earnest look. That said, before she can spout off any inquiries as to whether or not she got the size right- the poor girls temper has exploded. Oof. Still, having delivered her gift, TwinnerTessa slides away from the counter, ditching the heels if only so she can stride forward on tiptoes and pivot around to face the pair, "There's a book at the veeeeery bottom, too. I'm sure you'll find it inspirational~" With the pretense no longer needed, the changelings once mismatched eyes have shifted to a gleaming emerald, the likes of which only seem to grow brighter as the situation unfurls. "Though, I was serious, Cap'n. I'd love to know if there's business ta' do when you aren't...tied up with other business." That said, now seems like a good time to start sidling away, given the possibility of Leo's emotions seeping over into anger on the girls behalf seemed entirely plausible.

Lita caught enough of the box's contents to get the drift. Lace, candles, Leo's holding a rope and as he grabbed it something jingles. Lovely, thoughtful, except apparently not so, judging by the expression on the Mouse's face and the stunned look on Leo's. She has half a mind to join Mahri in a bout of laughter but she's still not getting that Quintessa is not Tessa, seeing she's never met the woman. "Gotta know your audience." She manages as Lora storms out. Loravelle just wanted to make friends and have a good time and feels so attacked right now. She's sitting on an overturned trashcan outside in an alley, staring at the wall furthest from her, mentally counting down from five and flexing her fingers. Her leg bounces and she's grateful that she has shoes on, lest somebody catch something glowing on the undersides of either of her feet at the moment.

Mahri makes her way to the door to find Mouse. Poor kid, really. If Leo didn't come with or stop Mahri, she'll find the girl and stand in front of her. "Sorry I laughed. Couldn't help it." She still had the glass of whiskey and held it towards the agitated woman. "It'll calm ye nerves." You was, admittedly, caught off his guard for a moment. A rare feat. But perhaps even more surprised by the contents of the package was Loravelle’s anger bubbling over into a sound above a whisper, so elegantly topped with a curse word that wasn’t in cursive. It had bold print in the subtitles. Before he could compose himself, the mouse was out, but he still murmured under his breath. “This better not be for me.” He tucked the card in the back pocket of the denim pants he was wearing and lowered the display before making his way over the the package to set the… adornment back inside. “You can lose the ‘guise in the future with us, ‘Trish’.” He knew that wasn’t her name, just as he’d known it wasn’t Tessa. “I got’a new situation to deal with, now. I’ll have to get back to you.” But coincidentally, her antics had proven herself useful to the pirate in one way or another. He was surprisingly calm for being notoriously short-tempered. He gave Lita and Mahri a glance over in turn. Even though he was usually the one to stoke the fire, tonight he’d have to try to be the one to defuse it, and grabbed the rest of the scotch whiskey in the bottle to head for the door. Trusting ‘Silver’ or ‘Jackal’ to make sure nothing happened to those locked books for the moment.

Loravelle wished she had made herself a little more difficult to locate, but she knew she'd be okay eventually. Mahri's approach and offered drink are appreciated. The apology is too, more than she could ever possibly voice. Seems Lora is blatantly not talking too, oddly, but she's quick to knock back the entirety of the whiskey glass despite her aversion to the drink and resume keeping her lips pressed together in a thin line. The mouse does try to smile for Mah, though. Just a little one. She'll be fine.

Lita might not know Tessa but she does recognize the emerald eyes. She watches Mahri and Leo take their leave to help Lora and she'll keep an eye out. She leans her hip against the bar and eyes Trish, trying not to look too impressed by the games. "You still owe me a knife." She says flatly.

Mahri took the glass back and looked at the now empty bottom with a sigh. "Lissen, this crowd...we're not soft. Gotta toughen up a bit, mouse." She speaks gently to the girl, almost like she would have if it was Sharice she spokek to in that moment. Of course, if anyone gave her daughter a gift like that, the walls would be a whole new color courtesy of a severed vein.

Arlyeon shrugs a bit in regards to the 'guise' comment, a motion that sets her leaning on one foot, "Ja -do- provide good practice fer refinin' the art. But, I'll dial it back a lil' bit." That said, she's admittedly grateful this hasn't escalated into an outright emergency escapade into the night. Still, while the capn's resolved, Lita's still present, "Damascus, ta make right, takes time." This is true- especially when the process winds up involving a water elemental. "If Ya haven't noticed- I'm not exactly goin' inta hidin', so ya can consider it a product still at work." Just as soon as she gets over the creative block on what to murder for the hilt, "Though- actually. If ya wanna expedite the process' I could use a hand on fetchin' somethin' ta make things a bit higher quality. It'd just, uh. Hinge on how well ya can disable somethin' without killin' it."

Loravelle understood she needed to toughen up and wanted to voice it, but she remains tight-lipped. She could be tough right now, but...even tempered was for the best. For everyone. Just in case. Lora had to get it out of her system somehow though, since the burn of those brands wasn't going to wane. Her lips part to speak, then quickly snap back shut, but she makes a gesture in roughly direction of Selene and Zaytor's temples. That's the safest place for her to be currently. She'll be there...Best stay away? At least, she hopes her hands raised in a wall of sorts in front of her with a slight push in Mahri's direction read as such. Leo's too, if he happens to arrive in the midst of her pantomiming.

Leo pushed open the slammed metal door, maybe a little impressed with Loravelle’s ability to shut it so hard for the fact it was painted metal, if Mahri had not left it open in her wake. Like his Beta ‘sister’ wolf, he had brought a bottle in tow for his own benefit, and Lora’s, who had come a long way being under the heel of a master, prayers with her sisters, meek and mere spoken, already. Not to say the rogue hadn’t warned her of this world, where pranks, sins and corruption weren’t an every day part of life. She’d reassured him time and time that she wouldn’t run away, and out the door she’d fled. But Leo knew she wouldn’t go far. That curse word was a golden star on her chart of accomplishments to her new companion, and he was almost casually taking a pull on the bottle he carried as he approached the silver and grey eyed pair, hearing his long time friend’s advice to the former servant before he followed the sound to approach them. “You didn’t get my size.” Icebreaker, rough as it was. “We might have to exchange it.”

Mahri sort of understood the pantomime, but she also wasn't one to listen too well. She waited until she heard Leo's voice before looking over her shoulder and slightly up at at him with a smirk. "At least two sizes." she agreed. Stepping to one side of Loravelle, Mahri leaned against the overturned can, resting her elbow near to the girl and eyed the bottle Leo had brought. She didn't ask. If he wanted to share he would. Arlyeon may have properly sprouted her fox ears, and they might be looking acutely alert right now. Weird.

Loravelle wants to say that she had nothing to do with anything inside of that vile woman's box, but she isn't sure if it's okay. The icebreaker does make her laugh, and that soft laugh seems fine. Nothing unusual rumbled in twine with her vocal cords, but her eyes still possess that fearful, frantic look like someone lugging around an explosive that could go off at any second. Shutting her eyes, she does her mental countdown again, then tries to talk. Her tone is quieter than it usually is, cautious like she might accidentally wake something up. “...I think I'm okay.” She hears something that time, a subtle waver in her timbre that to her, feels threatening. Another exhale, and she casts her gaze downward at the ground, at her feet. “ 'It isn't the right color either,” she tries, both to test her voice and to try to be funny. It's okay. “You'd look better in pink.”

Lita lofts a brow at Trish. "Color me intrigued." But that bit about dismemberment without death has her eyein' the shifter with narrowed gaze. "Without killin' it?" She asks in echo, a bit disappointed. "Not so sure. That's a troublesome thing. Can't we just kill it?" Already using this We term, but broadly. Not at all phased at whatever death might have to come. She's selfish about the things she wants.

Arlyeon lets out a bit of a huff, as Lita's question is one she's all-too-familiar with. "Oh, it's -gotta- die. But if ja want tha' best results for your dagger, there's a process ta' it. Which means whittling it down, and snagging it- so I can do what I gotta do." Such as inelegantly bludgeoning a phoenix to death over the course of several rebirths. "I mean, I -guess- we could snag bones without killin' something, but it's just not quite as conducive." That said, the fox begins to sidle towards the door, now that she's gotten a relative confirmation on a new set of helping hands, "I -do- look forward ta workin' with ya, though." Lita is not one to judge, and doesn't need to know how the sausage is made to know that you gotta kill a few animals for a tasty breakfast. Or something. But if it gets her her blade faster, she's willing to help. She manages a half hearted wave as the kit makes for the door. Where the hell was the pirate? She'd be needin' to head home herself. Mahri tries to imagine Leo in pink neck jewelry. It's easier than it should have been

Loravelle tries clearing her throat to test her vocal cords out again. The moment seems to have passed. ...She'd probably still scamper off to one of those temples soon. If not tonight, then tomorrow.

Leo figured the meeting of rogues adjourned at that point, even if it wasn’t planned. The doors remained open until the last of them took their leave. “I suppose no one in Enchantment could deny that.” The mention of pink, since his vest had matched hers at some point would prove. “But we’re not quite done, here, Dove.” He used the nickname he had given her openly in front of Mahri, hopefully helpful to the remedy of nerves the Beta wolf had provided. “Come on, back inside. We gotta look over the books.” He offered a brief and grateful look to Mahri, managing just a twitch of a smile at a corner of his mouth. Arlyeon would be dealt with - later. He’d find a good job for the trickster in the end. Making his way back inside with another drink from his bottle, Leo made it clear it was closing time for the J.R.. “A’right, you lot. I’ll be sendin’ notes out, sooner or later. Ace, we’ll catch up an’ get the business figgered out. S-... Lora’ an’ I got work to do.” They didn’t have to go home, but they couldn’t stay here.

Mahri caught the near slip of the other name Loravelle had given Mahri not long ago. And, she would have followed but she knew when she was being dismissed and pushed away from the can to make her way to back to...wherever. Probably Vailkrin or maybe Gualon now. Boots thunked in a slow unhurried rhythm as she walked away.

Lita can guess as to what their work might be. She makes an amused face but she'll keep that one to herself, since Lora's had enough for one night in the jokes department at least. She gathers her coat and searches the pockets for something else, producing a flower, one of the fancy ones she'd snagged from the Enchantment gala nights prior. The edges of the petals are drooping slightly but otherwise it's still in good condition, thanks to whatever magic Ranok had fancied up the coat pockets with. "It gets easier dealin' with us lot, I promise." She'll say, handing the flower to Lora. And if the girl allows, she'll lean in and give her a little kiss on the cheek. A far better welcome than Trish's box. Leo will get one too- a kiss on the cheek, that is. "I agree with the pink!" She'll call out as she takes her leave.

Lita gave 1 Snowflake Lilly to Loravelle.

Mahri exited to the south.

“And finish cleaning,” Lorevelle adds. Poor girl probably got less than halfway done. But before she wanders in, she also gives a grateful look toward Mahri. “Thank you,” and before she's even taken two steps forward, Ace has a flower for her and a kiss on the cheek. “T-thank you too.” If only she were better at explaining things instead of being so cagey. That'll fade with time, Lora hopes. She tucks that snowflake lilly behind her ear before heading back in. ...She won't deck Ina. She won't. She's calmed down now.

Leoxander was pretty efficient at not making things awkward, though this was a new scene for the rogue, and he knew that public display had embarrassed his timid lover detrimentally. How much alcohol she had consumed in his beta ‘sister’s’ console he didn’t know, but he was draining the bottle he held on his own well enough. He just had a much higher tolerance and that regenerative blood to help with that. From pocket alongside the one that held the card from Ina, he produced a key on a chain long enough to hide well, though the way she usually covered up, a shorter necklace would do. It led to the lock on the red-bound ledger still on the bar counter and offered it to her. “Don’t lose this.” If she tried to vere her path aside from him he gripped her arm to lead Suoxin with him back to the bar where he filled his glass with the bottle in hand, set it down, and filled hers halfway with some more wine. “So… you’re mine, then.” He stated it more than a question, not drawing any attention to the package delivered.

Loravelle tails Leo back inside, though at a distance. She's still uncertain about herself. Her hand pats her chest a few times, there's a cautious hum, but nothing comes. Seems all of whatever those unpredictable brands did was help her wrench open a heavy door and slam it that she wouldn't be able to do normally. This is reassuring. She lets most of her caution drop then, and follows the rogue properly, hand extending for the key on its chain to receive it. “I won't,” she promises. Then he utters his statement, and she pointedly looks away from the collection of junk delivered to her by that shape shifter. It's probably for the best that she doesn't touch anymore alcohol tonight, so she doesn't bother drinking the wine poured. “I know.”

Once she was given the key and he had another drink taken down, Leo drew something from behind the back of the bar. Not quite chopsticks, far thicker than that, but made of sturdy wood. Giant matchsticks, perhaps, for the way the tips were sanded and shaped. Loravelle had been made vulnerable. He’d return the favor, unexpectedly. The rogue walked away from her and that special package toward the stage she’d recently cleaned, grabbing a stool at the end of the bar on the way with his free hand to set it down behind the drum kit. Maybe a slight clearing of his throat - he hadn’t done this in a long time, and it took a moment for his right foot to find the bass pedal, his left for the hi-hat. Whatever music he heard was going on through his head for a moment as he steeled himself and found the metronome pattern in his mind, reintroduced to that seat. But he began with a crash, or rather, a clash cymbal. Following it with a roll across toms. Catching those metal plates in time to silence them abruptly when needed, a rhythm soon poured out as he focused. And the further he dug into that melody, the more he fell into that memory, more frequently would those wooden weapons in his hand occasionally spin in grip before he beat into stretched skin of drum heads to continue. Muscle memory, just the way he used his bow or knives. Although it might not be much without other instruments to back him up, it was a display he’d not shown others in too many years to count.