RP:With Help Like This

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Rogue's Guild RP.

Summary:Ina barges into the Jolly Roger, interrupting a bit of roguery planning bits, after a friendly Game of Cards. Trouble, as ever, follows on her heels.

The Jolly Roger

Through the haze that drifts along the wharf, a nefarious warehouse calls with a symphony of boozed conversation, rough banter, plucked strings and laughter which pours from red and black painted metal doors that brand their caution. They open to an impressive and occasionally wild scene; a spacious room framed by steel rafters, furnished with dark redwood, adorned with soft, black leather, and illuminated by chained, brass lanterns that hang at different lengths from above. Following the theme of it's name, the Jolly Roger is decorated from floor to ceiling with ship shrouds and worn sails, colors of defeat and past fleet, including a salvaged flag bearing the Captain's Skull n' Crossed-Swords. The walls display a collage of art and ability: symbols from all cultures, races, and walks of life; expressions of individual identities. The far back corner reveals this establishment to be a tattoo shop. A closed off section near stacked crates of inventory and an iron constructed weight lifting apparatus is set up for customer and artist to escape the fray and tend to the steam or puncture ink process. Each of those stations are customized to the artist's personality, but all are equipped with mechanized, reclining chairs, every drawer stocked with medical supplies, sharpened instruments and parchment. Often, the most populated corner of this shop is the 'waiting area' at an immediate right of the entrance, where the bar is located, with the savory aroma of the day's cuisine sometimes wafting alluringly from the small kitchen behind it. There, might be found three dark wood tables topped with kerosene lamps (each surrounded by four spade-marked chairs), with a few storage box-benches and one large leather couch available for seating. To the left is a recently built stage with an odd assortment of instruments, including a combination of drum heads and symbols that appear to be bolted together in a seven piece kit. Not far away, patrons attend to a game of 'darts' played with throwing knives, that specific wall structured with two boards that depict higher value for the smaller, inner most rings. At the center of all this is an island of shelves and work surfaces, organized with bottles of anesthetic and alcohol, vials of various inks, spikes of different metals, foreign tools and the occasional blood-stained cloth.

Nortengaal:: A gentle clinking sound accents an aimless hummed tune emanating from the throat of one Nortengaal Kagu-Tsuchi. The bearman is on his way back from a supply run, consisting primarily of various liquor bottles, though he himself is sober this fine evening. Having spent too many of the previous days sloshed at best, embarrassing at worst, he’s taking a bit of a break from the heaving drinking, and at the moment is just replacing some of the bottles he’s helped himself to from the Jolly Roger’s stores. He’s been spending a lot of time at the JR recently, utilizing the crash space graciously granted to him by his friend and the JR’s proprietor Leo when not simply laying down wherever he happened to be, a habit developed by years of wandering and exacerbated by excessive drinking. Upon arriving at his destination, Nort pushes open the doors and heads straight for the bar to unload his bundle before acknowledging anyone else in the building, deep in thought as he has been since his last conversation with the Captain set him right, or at least in the right direction.

Lita makes her way back to the JR after having deposited Xiem and Zazen back at the beachside villa for the night. But she can't sleep, mulling over the conversation with Mahri and Nort from nights prior, still stuck on whether or not she should poke Leo about it. Hating that she couldn't even pick Xiem's brain about it, since he's working with Leo more now and sometimes, he still seems too good for this world. She catches sight of Nort up ahead heading for the JR as well and isn't quite quick enough to offer help with the bottles he's carrying but she wanders in a few paces behind the bearman, offering a friendly pat on his shoulder by way of greeting. When he deposits the bottles on the bar, she'll poke through 'em in hopes of finding some of Simon's honeyed whiskey concoction, which is her favourite, and help herself to a glass. "You and Mah have a chance to check out any spots lately?" She asks, referencing their last meeting at the Barrel.

Ina hasn't often been seen as herself, but tonight she decides to make an exception. Gone are the scales, the feathers, and claws- her second skin now consisting of a dress shirt, a red velvet vest, and some rather sleek-looking black pants that fit her a bit too well to be stolen. Unless her proportions have been tweaked. She -is- awfully short right now, especially in the leg department- which is especially notable as she whips into the Roger and immediately presses up against a wall, hurriedly palming a pack of cards back into place. It actually takes her a second to realize -where- she is, leading her to a sort of awkward wave of greeting, even as a small bustle of footsteps run by. Footsteps which soon recede into the distance, leading her to run pallid fingers through her hair, tousling the excess of red strands in every direction but her face. "Pff." She's trying not to laugh. Really, she is. Because those vulpine ears of hers are still cropped up and alert, twitching with the occasional hint of a danger not quite passed, "Ffff. Hah~" One hand claps over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the manic glee that's started, which has already vivid green eyes almost glowing.

Jasper wanders on back down the wharf towards that particular warehouse once more, having found a room at a local spot but finding himself too restless. Plus he's failed to find a place to securely sell these valuables he "acquired" off the nobleman's wife over in Cenril. Besides, the lot in this place doesn't seem so bad. So once more does he invite himself to this den of devious deviants.

Leoxander looked up from that new corner no longer designated for tattooing. That was Lita’s focus, now, but there might be a Soulskin poster somewhere on the wall among the stickers and sketches. He didn’t say much about Nortengaal heading in to restock the bar - he was among the trusted now and the rogue secretly appreciated the thought. Leaving most of the tools and buckets out of the storage room for now, he picked up his glass and finished it if it wasn’t already, setting it back onto the bar with a lean against that glazed counter with a look between the two. “I’m aware of what you three’re up to. I’m plannin’ a trek to scope out some land and maybe see what’s goin’ on to the north.” About the time Ina entered, he went to brush off some more wood litter and found a tack sticking in the side of his hand with a grimace, plucking it out to stick it into the wall before he looked ‘Trix’ way. Following her zig-zag pattern and her strange behaviour. Jasper was noticed, but he regarded the foxkin. “What burr got up her ass?”

Lita slips into an empty seat at the bar, crossing her legs right over left at the knee as she makes herself comfortable. She taps her index finger against the rim of her glass idly as Nort fixes himself a drink and brings up the jailhouse. "Maybe we c'n go pokin' around tomorrow some." Nort would likely be a decent distraction for either herself or Mahri to slip into a back room and rifle through some old record storage. Especially judging by the number he'd been doin' on that punching bag. "Well considerin' i's your job, I should hope so." She smarts off at Leo, though not without a smile. She had just as much trouble as the pirate letting go of those reins and she'd not hold it against him. She might have had more to say but the foxkin's sudden entrance draws her eye, and more so the commotion outside that seems to have followed her past the JR'S doors. Lita lofts a brow at the girl. "At it again, then?" She asks with a faint smirk, though it's likely, not noticeable whether she's addressing the girl or the bard who's entered behind her. Place was alive tonight, it seemed.

Nortengaal takes a sip from his glass, uncharacteristically nursing the drink as he swirls it around idly. “Sounds like a plan.” He says, nodding. Secretly he’s both pleased and not a little relieved that even with his multi-day bender he was still of use in their endeavor. Leo gets a wave too as Nort notices him for the first time. “Brought you some bottles.” a gesture towards said bottles accompanies his words. Trish’s entrance draws his attention with a raised brow, curiosity piqued by her peculiar behaviour. Definitely up to something that one. Then again, when wasn't she? Nort may not have known her very long at all, but he’s definitely familiar with her type. Hot on her heels comes…someone Nort has never seen before, but the newcomer still gets a wave and a “Evenin.” The bearman is nothing if not polite at least.

Ina is actually doing an admirable job of reining it all back in, if one ignores the crooked grin flashed at Lita and Leo between splayed fingers. And yet, when a distant curse issues through the night, another small trickle of laughs slips out, accompanying the slow slide of her back down the wall. "Get my ring and slit 'er throat." Okay, her ears may have cropped up again at how close that was, and she might be doing her best to feign a look of horror, and then innocence, an overexaggerated shrug offered to Lita's statement. "If my wife finds out~" Oh hell no, she's actually jibbering like a jackal now, forcibly skittering away from the wall as she makes a full-on sprint towards the bar in order to slide over the edge and take cover as the voices stop and begin to draw nearer.

Ina said to Leoxander, "Ebenin' Cap'n. Pfffhahaha. Fancy a game of cards?"

Lita is not any sort of against a good old-fashioned bar brawl. The JR has seen its fair share and Simon's not here to give her dirty looks this time at least. Not that she's itching to destroy Leo's place but her hand shifts to her thigh where that pretty new dagger sits in its sheath just beneath the hem of her dress.

Leoxander nodded first to Nort’. “I see that mate. Good to know yer good fer it.” He actually reached in range to clasp the man’s hand in that usual handshake that was more a clasp of palms than the traditional means, which he saved for contract or conditions. Blue eyes went back toward Arlyeon, after a moment the lycan somewhat barked toward the shape-changer. “‘Ey. We’re havin’ a decent night, Trix. You got some reason for bein’ here beside gettin’ on my damn nerves?” Never the gentle approach, but he hadn’t drawn blade or sought to escort/kick the girl out. That could be considered a plus. Maybe he was becoming used to her antics. Not likely. He murmured from the side of his mouth toward Lita. “She’s got’a wife…?” Poor soul. But she kinda sorta seemed half mad, possibly on some sort of influence. But that wouldn’t be the first time the rogue witnessed that. He was still acutely aware of Jasper’s presence but seemed to accept it, so far. The culprit’s question was answered after a moment. “Not when I know you’ll be cheatin’ me out of my coin, kid. You a’right?”

Tiber came in days later from the attack on Lanara and his home. The man was in better spirits from the attack on his makeshift ‘birthday’. He remains quiet and stoic on the topic, and he knows he needs to run by Rynvale for funds at the bank due to the loss of their home. Their belongings. It was time to start trying to maybe build a foundation, if Lanara would let him. He would talk to her about it, but he knew he should probably hit Rynvale quicker than not at all. During his errands… he is curious about the pirate who surprised him with a guitar on his birthday with his fiance. Maybe he should stop by, although times were rocky. The man walks by the hazy wharf to the Jolly Roger to visit the ‘captain’. When he walks in, he observes what he may come across. A busy ship, it seemed. He stands there, tired, per usual these days with his button-up and slacks–business-like. “What is it your birthday now?” The Catalian utters across the room at the other blonde lycan.

Jasper seems to have come back at the right time as things seem to be quite rife with tensions of a "brothers in arms" sort of affair. Being the only familiar face belongs to the woman he heard called Lita the last time, the bard weaves his way through the room to find a spot at the bar in hopes for some more drinks if she's got the time. This place doesn't exactly have an "open" sign to inform him if there is someone on duty, but he'd wager he'll be told if he made an error or not soon enough. The large man offering a friendly wave gets one in return! Like him already! If Lita were to join him he'd gladly start up a conversation, mainly to figure out who is who as well as perhaps see if she's thought any more about him looking for work. For now, the man will just see if his presence will be allowed or not the later the night goes. The foxin is given a once over, as truly he hasn't seen many of her ilk in these lands so, ya know, unique and all that.

Inas' expression reaches some sort of clarity for the first time since her entrance, head canting off to the side so she can properly look up at the captain, "I could probably wipe ya cleaner 'n I did that docky that thought wedding bands 'r good collat-" Thud. "Er." The foxkin doesn't turn around, her form going notably still, to the point that even her dual tails have ceased flickering- her eyes skimming the bottles on the shelf for one that might provide an ample enough reflection to place a bead on who it was -exactly- that had barged into the room. Or whom, if we're being accurate, given that not only is there a red-cheeked puffer-fish of a man striding in, all pomp and outrage, there's a couple of hard-bodied dock workers on her heels. "Uuuh." She might have made a very slight hissing noise, more of an exhale of breath, as she begins to scrabble across the floor in search of, well. She mutters something along the lines of, 'Gotta be a trapdoor somewhere.'

Lita eyes the bard making himself awfully comfortable at the bar near her. Nort's behind the bar, and she'll shrug for Jasper to get a drink if asked but keeps one hand in her lap nearer that blade, just in case. She won't have much to offer by way of work, least of all for a bard in all honesty. The shop kept her fairly busy, though less so now with Leo moonlighting (and Lora, apparently). And she'd no sway over work at the JR, or plans for fencin' pretty baubles from a stranger, if that would be his line of questioning. "Actually, I do have a delivery needs trekked up to Frostmaw to be hand delivered and I've no interest in doing it myself." She's saying to Jasper. Or trusting one of Cal's boys not to knick it for gambling money. "Bit o' pay in it for yah, and maybe a bit o' trust if yah can get it there safely, if you're interested in some travel." Their conversation is interrupted by the scrambling foxkin and the goons who've just invaded. Lita turns in her seat, leaning back against the edge of the bar on her elbow. So much for a quiet evening. But she's grinning as she turns towards Trix with a, "What did you do."

Ina said to Lita, "An honest evening's work."

Leoxander glanced up when the Catalian Stallion made his entry. Darn, Leo had forgot to set up the confetti cannons for his arrival. “If it was, not much I could do to top that debut of yer line, Tibs’.” There it was, the nickname that resulted from the hand-slap they had shared and a few decent words. Tiber was welcome on that territory, in that warehouse, now. Whether or not that meant a thing was his to construe. As Jasper would see, faces came and go out of that warehouse and other places upon the island, but Leo still regarded him with a fixed look that tried to gather information from words, notes played, his demeanour in general. He couldn’t look too long - Ina had his attention, again. “Let’er have what she wants.” He instructed anyone still behind the bar, but that would only be if Nort’ or Lita bothered to comply. He wasn’t staffed for business, yet. His gaze followed the foxkin’s scuttle but he wasn’t too worried, because access to the cellar was an obvious but well-bolted door to the side near the bar. He sent his gaze back toward Jasper. “Siddown, mate.” More a command than a request, but Leo was pouring a drink of Beloy’s finest to coax him.

Nortengaal clasps Leo’s palm with his own, an easy smile on his face. “I try to be, at least.” The foxkin garners another look, crimson eyes sliding from Trish to the door and back. “Expectin’ company Trish?” Not that Nort would mind the sort of company she seems to be inviting. A good bar fight is almost always welcome - though he’d like to try and avoid breaking more of Leo’s furniture if he could help it. As the newcomer sets himself by the bar, Nort decided to play barkeep if Leo doesn't mind, stepping behind the countertop to grab a glass and one of the opened bottles of whiskey, pouring a decent glass and setting it in front of the man. He opens his mouth to speak, when first another man he’s never seen, but who seems to know Leo, walks in, a bit dressed up for this particular establishment. Before Nort can address this man however, a few more gents burst in behind him, clearly spoiling for a fight. He leaves the back of the bar to step around and make his way over to them, stepping around the one who knows Leo to speak to the other guys, arms across his chest and a glint in his eye. “Evenin gents, how can I help you?” Leoxander might have glanced at the door, the unwelcome crowd, but he trusted Nortengaal to handle the situation 'properly'. Leoxander seemed more than fine with Nortengaal taking those reins. A welcome role, in fact.

Jasper makes his way towards the gruff sounding one barking orders, which he assumes is just how he talks, as he listens more to Lita's request about a shipment to Frostmaw. "Could be done. Something light? Or a whole actual "shipment" kinda deal?" He inquires, piqued interest at trying "honest" work. But travel was a forte of the bard and Frostmaw was right across the realm, and far enough away from noblemen with grudges for being made cuckolds that he felt it was a worthwhile venture. As the cap'n offers some of that bourbon though, the thespian can't help but accept. Good stuff, that is. To the man himself, he asks the roguish fellow. "What's the vision for this place, since I saw earlier you're redecorating the joint?"

Jasper lofts a quick look at the other newcomers, making note. "I am -not- with them." Under his breath loud enough he is sure the keen-hearing bartender and gruff-sounding rogue will hear. Trouble can be entertainment in of itself though, yes?

Tiber looks flatly at Leoxander at his comment of his wife’s attempts of making his birthday ‘special’ with a cologne line. He would never hear the end of it now, might as well make the most of it at this point. “What? I’m sure Lanara has the hookups. I could get your very own. Lana used to be in that line of business with the modeling gig, a time ago. We can get your… Cap’n sweat line or something.” He is jesting before moving in. Eyes glaze over the bearman who is looking his way until a crowd of dock-workers stride in behind him and Tiber’s hands are up. “Not with me.” The man then strides in. “I just honestly came by for a drink.”

Ina has made good progress in her advance toward the cellar, but she's becoming acutely aware of a distinct flaw in her plan. That being the fact that her intended exit was bolted so thoroughly, that a discreet exit was as apt to end in disaster as the red-faced man's poker career. Speaking of which, the puffed-up prick was still making his way towards the bar, apoplectic with rage- to the point that his words were an incoherent jumble, which only really sharpened around words like 'Where', 'Ring', 'Kill', 'Fox' & 'Girl'. -Blind- with anger might also be a good word for his condition, too, given that he doesn't quite register -how- big Nortengaal is, when he gestures the two dockworkers at the man, in an attempt to bypass him. As for Ina? "..I jus' got this cleaned. But, whatcha' gon' do?" Other than rather abruptly lose a fair bit more height, as her -attempt- at re-establishing herself in a more human guise is shed in favour of an even more compact form- her limbs receding into her shirt in a disconcertingly swift manner, until there's just an odd lump contained within her clothes, gradually trying to inch it's way into a safe spot behind the counter. Maybe a cupboard, or something.

Lita is grateful to see Nort step to the plate, so she's not the only one willing to get her hands dirty. As Jasper sidesteps to join Leo and Tiber. Figures. Never send a man, and all that jazz... (Nort is the exception to this opinion, currently). She's distracted for a moment from answering Jasper's question about what needs to be delivered to Frostmaw, and pantomimes a larger box- a painting, to be precise. But just the one. And another smaller box, but the gesticulation is interrupted as she slips from her seat to snag the pufferfish-man's arm and steer him unceremoniously towards the bar. "'Scuse me, darlin'," she's saying as the practiced flick of her wrist tugs the dagger from its sheath at her thigh. One hand pins the man's wrist to the bar, the other burying the dagger a few inches deep into the bar top. Not being human has some advantages now and then. "A painting," she goes back to clarifying for Jasper, as if the man isn't screaming obscenities behind her now. "And another box but smaller," she mimics the size of it, "far lighter." She turns to swat at the man's hand trying to pry the dagger loose. "Sorry mate, here." She tears the blade free only to move it a few inches sideways and carve another hole through the poor sod's hand. Maybe she could do another smiley face.

Leoxander shook his head at Tiber off-handedly. His birthday was passed, and like Tiber he’d had his first good one. He took a casual drink of his own refilled glass as he watched Arlyeon’s display, and if he was impressed by the melting witch routine, he didn’t show it. If she had the freedom to be herself anywhere, it was probably there on that island of misfits. Nor did he interfere in Lita’s interrogation of the new face in the neighbourhood, taking it all in stride. “Easy, Ace. Nothin’ to suggest this blaggard isn’t jus’ another one tossed from the mainland.” Wasn’t that how they ended up here? But more surprisingly, Leo being some voice of reason, however cool he kept his behaviour on what was happening within those walls. He glanced at Nort, knowing the therianthrope would have his back if things needed to simmer down quick. Even though Lita might be in an impromptu business meeting with the bard, he bothered to ask between drinks and plucking an herb-laced hand-rolled smoke from the case still on the bard. He didn’t have matches, but he had seen enough to know someone might remedy that. “Why you here, mate? Of all places…” This question directly loosely toward Jasper, of course.

Tiber watches as puffer-face gets his wrist sunken into the bar with a dagger while a mysterious looking clothed-lump scoots on the floorboards. “Huh?” He remains quiet about it. The ‘huh’ was soft, and could be played off easily. Eyes shift around. What was even happening? What did he walk into? Tiber does the pucker of a ‘not-bad’ lip as that dagger is stabbed into the man’s wrist. Not that Tiber was judging, but it surely was entertaining. He then blinks for a moment. Was that not a hippie girl from the prior night a week ago bumming cigarettes? Maybe from the wrong guy, but Tiber was… okay enough. The carving in his hand has his brows raised. An itch feigns against his zig-zag scar on his own wrist. He had to go to physical therapy for a scar like that as nerves were severed. Functioning of the hand would be a blow to get back. Tiber would know, as his hand was finally coming around again. Still hard to move certain fingers, but better all-the-same. Getting better at guitar everyday. A physical therapy in itself. Tiber moves to that very bar, “Should rip his ulnar nerve. No pinky usage unless surgically mended. Cost a pretty penny.” Tiber lifts his hand with that jagged scar towards Lita and wiggles his fingers slowly. He then gets himself something to drink. Preferably whiskey.

Leoxander hadn’t objected to the treatment, but he did murmur. “Let’s jus’ all take a breath, savvy?”

Nortengaal is accosted by the two dockworkers as their fearless leader goes to move past him, only to be intercepted by Lita, who takes care of him quite handily. As for the two workers, well, one might hope they know a good healer. As they both reach for Nortengaal, following their boss’s screeched instructions, he steps forward, grabbing each man just below the wrist in a powerful grip that immediately drops them to their knees as Nort squeezes and twists, breaking the bones unceremoniously. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He says, speaking loudly to be heard as their agonized yells join in with those of the man currently pinned to the bar. “We’re trying to have some drinks and you’re being rude.”

Tiber looks over his shoulder at Leoxander who is telling Lita to take it easy. Tiber gives the pirate a knowing look. Realizing he is getting the best of his darker roots due to recent events. "Aye, he's right. Maybe you just need another round. Or do you wanna bum cigarettes again?" He questions the mysterious Ace.

Lita is annoyed at first that Tiber- whom she vaguely remembers from a previously insulting conversation- invites himself to interrupt her conversation with Jasper. Never mind what was going on with the goon squad alongside her at the moment. Her brow furrows at Tiber for a moment, until he's holding up his hand to share that scar and a bit of a tip and the annoyed look fades, her smile broadening slightly. Excitement? Glee? Possibly both. She looses her hold on the hilt of that dagger when the man swings his free hand for her. Blind rage and pain didn't make for much smarts and it's an easy thing to pluck the man's hand from the air, his pinky finger pinched between her thumb as she presses the digit into his palm and upwards, eliciting a bit of a squeal. She lifts her free hand to Tiber's hand then, measuring with her thumbnail. She's no medical professional, here. She measures about the same distance against the man's hand that's pinned to the bar, all set to reset that dagger's position a third time but suddenly Leo is talking sense? She wrinkles her nose at Tiber. Somehow this is his fault. "I liked you better five seconds ago."

Jasper feels a bit like he has been in this scenario before, given the chaos and sheer carnage he has played in throughout his ventures performing in all sorts of dives and underground clubs. The two men grabbed by the overly large man, I mean just -look- at that guy!?, are given a quick look before Lita's human dartboard is also given a quick glance. Much has been learned in just a short few moments. Buts its the calm at the center of the storm that shows Jasper who may be in charge, and that exact someone asks him a direct question, to which he replies bluntly with. "Work. Legit or otherwise." Before he'd take another bit of the bourbon and offer the cap'n a light with his own lighter before he'd bring forth his own cig as he relaxes back in his chair. "I've a plethora of useful skills I'm sure you could find helpful."

Ina emerges from the shirt in a confusion of motion, first one pointed red ear, then a pointed black one- the shapeshifter having donned the guise of a rather striking looking harlequin rabbit. Which, by all accounts, is a pretty terrible disguise in and of itself, since it's mostly kept her colour scheme. But it's made even worse that she's somehow wearing the poor bastards wedding band like it's some sort of jaunty bit of jewelry for one of her floppy ears. For a moment, it looks like she's getting ready to dive beneath the bar amidst the empty glasses- but she's promptly greeted by the wince-inducing sounds of the lackeys, and the slightly more coherent pained babbles of the blustering bar-bound blowhard. Something -close- to a cohesive story is -starting- to issue from the man's lips now, desperate pleadings about how his poor marriage is in jeopardy, and bla bla bla, it was a mistake to bet his ring. Really, Ina's already tuning it all out, the non-ring'd ear pulled down so she can scratch at it, before she sets about the process of pushing her clothes into a bundle and kicking it over to a spot that's relatively clear from being underfoot. From there, she just sort of perches, and looks to Leo with a sort of shrug- pantomiming a gesture towards the fellow on the tabletop, and then a more insistent one towards that barred cellar door.

Tiber watches amusingly at Lita and her measurements. It was quirky. The vampire is not normally someone he would interact with, considering his own history, and Lanara. But he observes her before his cutting in and “ruining” the moment. He seems enlightened by that comment, however. He then pulls out his own rolled cigarette and matchbox before striking it to ignite the bud. He inhales and then talks as he blows out smoke. “You didn’t like me. You were inspired. Clear difference between friendly-infatuation and friendly-like. Infatuation is short-lived which I live for.” He is not fazed by her comment. Instead, he is throwing back whiskey which somehow he inherited. Eyes then look at Nort who is breaking wrists, and Tiber has yet to actually -have- to chime in regarding messy situations for once. It was refreshing.

Jasper looks back and quickly adds to the man with whom Lita has impregnated with her knife. "Best be thinking a bit clearer about your life choices, aye lad?" What the others may, or may not, notice is the subtle flow of bardic abilities cascading forth with his words, infiltrating the man's mind to persuade him of retaliation, or further pursuing aggressive tactics against those gathered. Basic manipulation spells bards tend to know, but with the ease Jasper can weave it into just his own words... hints at the man's abilities a bit more that he'd like to show. But hey, he isn't a half-giant behemoth or a knife-throwing wonder woman, gotta do -something-, right?

Leoxander didn’t move much while he witnessed Nortengaal handling the rubbish, taking another amused drink from his glass in a relaxed lean. He supposed he could be glad that Lora’ wasn’t present, but that Mouse was becoming a were-mouse in her own right, even judging Jasper earlier with a casual ‘Not bad’ side by side with the infamous ‘Ace’. After a moment, he bothered to regard Tiber’s bold statement. “You should pro’lly watch what you say ‘round her, mate. Doesn’t take much to result in a blade in you, these parts.” He would never try, or be able, to fully control those he considered crew, pack, squad… family. Since Tiber hadn’t been so kind as to offer him a light, he reached across thief-speed to take the smoke right out of his hands or mouth and used it to light his own before he offered it back. Leo then glanced toward the rabbit to finally emerge as he finished his drink and straight up said in a murmur, “I’m gettin’ too damn ol’ for this sh**.” Gods forgive him. Good thing Lora’ prayed enough for the both of them.

Lita dislodges her dagger from the man's hand as he starts to blubber his sob story. Even his other hand has gone slack in her grasp, as if all that fight's been deflated out of his balloon (she's no idea this would be Jasper's bardic abilities). Disappointing. She wipes the flat of the blade on the sleeve of the goon's shirt and half shoves him towards the floor. Dark eyes searching the floor for the little bunny who'd dragged in this mess as she answers Tiberius finally, "Don't mistake an appreciation of knowledge for infatuation." And though Leo steals the man's cigarette, she'll steal it from the pirate to take a drag before handing it back towards Tiber with a brief, if not daring, smirk. Power move.

Lita said to Ina, "A little heads up next time would be nice, y'know."

Tiber was curious where Mouse was. The girl who understood his strings. Tiber looks over to the other lycan who states that he should watch his linguist tongue. Tiber lazily looks at Lita. “I’ve had worse,” he is blatant, and careless at this point these days. He used to live a very dangerous life before Lanara. Now he was a little more structured. He did have a wife and Pack to think of, however. Though with Franz on the loose, he did think of Greyson, his Beta, taking charge if he ever kicked the bucket. Leoxander then takes the cigarette in his hand to light his own. A furrow on his brow for a moment before casting a gaze towards Lita. She takes a puff and offers it back. “Language is language,” he shrugs. “Take it as you will. I’m not a prescriptivist.” He grins, as he liked a spitball. He goes against to use his little intellectual linguistic tactics, but really, that would not get him far. He plucks the roll from her hands before taking another drag.

Ina takes a few test hops, before she promptly bounds up onto a stool, and then onto the counter, coming to an awkward sliding stop that sees her spinning around to face Lita. Really, there's a moment where she tries to lift a paw to lean her head on it, but it just looks awkward. "I didn't think he'd -take- it so poorly." Speaking of which, she may as well saunter over to the edge of the counter and peer down at the poor bastard, "What's up, Docky?" Her paws wriggle, trying to figure out how she can best translate some sort of rude gesture into bunny paw terms, before she finally settles on just wiggling her ears defiantly, "Fancy a game of cards? Ja still got clothes on your back, n' a home, unless the lady boots ja out after this." Oh yeah, she's definitely feeling full of herself now that the tables are a bit turned. For his part, the man's navigating a mess of being magically calmed, while simultaneously languishing in Lita Inspired fear, and Ina-incited irritation. And confusion. The whole rabbit thing honestly has the poor bastard wondering if he's been poisoned. His words are coming out a bit thick too, though it might be due to the hoarse sobbing and wailing he'd been doing, "You can't do this to me- Do you know who I am?" For the record, Ina does not. And it wouldn't have changed anything.

Lita is not a linguist. But she'd been an informant and a spy in another life not so long ago and she'd learned a little bit about a lot of things. So she hates both that Tiber's words are pretty and flowery and also their meaning a slight impressive. Not that she'd ever admit to that. "No, you're worse. An allusionist. All pomp and no circumstance."

Nortengaal releases the wrists of the two men with a little shove, knocking them fully to the ground. He regards them with a cool gaze, waiting a beat before he leans down to look them each in the eye as they writhe in pain. “If I have to ask again I’m not going to be so nice about it.” he says, flashing some sharper-than-usual teeth. Their eyes widen in terror and they look at each other, glance over to the man Lita’s entertaining, then scramble to their feet and book it out of the building, the words “.... don't get paid enough for this shi-” can be heard trailing behind them. Straightening up, he brushes his hands together theatrically and turns back to the bar, sidestepping the blubbering ringleader as he’s shoved towards the door by Lita. Stepping back around to continue his role as bartender, he takes a drink from his own glass before seeing if anybody else needed a refill, a slight nod towards Leo’s smokes. “Got one to spare Cap’n?”

Leoxander only betrayed a slight exhale of a ‘huh’ kind of laugh with his shoulders before he stood upright again. He picked the end of the hempen rolled cigarette laced with potent herbs from his lips and moved from behind the bar, ironically, to move closer to Tiber between two stools rather than choose one as a seat. “Yer full o’ sh** it what you are, Tibs.” Late night, not that the hour would matter when it came to the rogue’s tongue and his lack of propriety. How was that for language, linguist? “If everythin’ was good n’ sound you wouldn’t be here. You think I didn’t see yer witch piling on the cover? The way you reacted to that whole ‘Let’s surprise you after yer fug’n jumped’ reaction?” He couldn’t entirely ignore Ina hopping about with a talkative nature worse than her Crow form, but he was trying his best. And to Nortengaal, he motioned on the case still on the counter, but his words weren’t so kind. “Do I need to dose her?!” He called impatiently back toward the two.

Lita is eyeballing the little dual-coloured bun rabbit as it hops its way up the bar. She was getting used to Trix's antics, though the magicality behind them still left her a bit unnerved. Not that she'd let on to that. She tugs the ring from the bunny's ear, assuming it's the one the man's been going on about, and slips it onto her index finger. A few sizes too big but she holds her hand out to inspect its appeal, as if she were shopping at a jeweller. "All this fuss for this thing? Pfft. Probably only plated, hardly worth its weight in coins." She'll set the ring back into the rabbit's paw and glance at Leo, who's moved closer to the bar and slurring pretty heavily now. "Who are you dosing!?" She asks, feigning offence at the notion.

Jasper can see the entire situation seems to be in order, and takes this opportunity to not only finish his own bourbon but also rise to start seeing himself out once again. Lita, that vixen, is eyed with a smile as he walks over and says. "Simple transport job sounds nice! We can talk more later...today." He smiles, noting how late it was. Or early, if you look at it that way. "I can be by later and we can talk details." He was already planning the entire trip, but he was also getting exhausted. Looking over the rough types who got roughed up, Jasper simply smirks and says. "The sign did say "Enter at your own risk", dinnit?" A last jab at their obviously wounded prides by being manhandled by a simply enormous monster of a guy (who was actually quite a friendly chap!) to having their leader made into a pincushion and emasculated by Lita. "Just not your night, boys." He'd add in as he passes by, patting one on the shoulder before saying. "Quite the place you got here!" As he'd offer a wave over his shoulder as he once again sees himself out.

Tiber gives that stare to Lita who is insulting his ways of word usage. A facade, really. For strangers. “Pouty.” Maybe it was supposed to be worse between them before they bonded. Not that Tiber willingly ever wanted to. “Try me one day. You might be surprised.” He then looks to Leo who has him on the hook. Tiber -is- full of crap, the way Leoxander pins him. It makes him uncomfortable for a brief minute–the thoughts rush back, how he cannot control his world, his wife is in danger, he is in danger, his Pack too. He was on edge. He was not himself, but trying to play a facade of himself. Leoxander is recognizing patterns. When things are bad? Run. Run for the hills. That was the signature of Lowell, himself. Even when Lanara and him first met. “Just leave it -be-, okay?” He is trying to convince himself that. Does he dare speak his truth with all these people? That his house burned down? That he is finding out he cannot protect Lanara Lowell from Franz Libedow whenever he returns? No. He could not. “I just need some time. Lay off.”

Ina extends her paw forward, and adopts what she'd like to think is a regal air as Lita would return the gem to her paw- though she takes a certain sort of care to try and minimize the contact that might be had there. She had, after all, managed to jinx two fellow rogues in two days. And the possibility of getting a third if they happened to brush a bit of her is. Well, it happens- but it's starting to become a bit of a problem. But fiirst, the important part, "Why, I never thought ja would ask~ However much did it cost you." She presses both her paws back against her own chest, and melodramatically lifts one up as she turns her head, "No, don't tell me, the thought was eno-" Okay, so, maybe she shouldn't have kept the bit going quite that long, because that -actually- managed to click some primal button in the poor bastard's brain- as the potential of lingering violence at Lita's hand is briefly overshadowed by the parade of humiliation that's being provided by a target which looks decidedly fragile. It's actually sort of impressive at just how sturdy his legs manage to be, even without a pair of lackeys to fortify his spirits. But then, all he wants to do is 'kill da wabbit' so to speak, and all that requires is a quick ring of her neck, and then, "Stuff you, n' stick you on my desk at tha' harbour, you bitch." Ina, admittedly, is a bit disheartened by the fact that he hasn't chosen suicide by Lita- and has aimed for someone closer to his weight class. Disheartened, and also acquiring a faint embered quality to her stomach, even as she skitters across the bar top. This wasn't the inside of a ship, at least.

Leoxander glanced Lita’s way as he half perched on a stool. “Admirers everywhere these days, Champion.” It wasn’t entirely sarcastic. He was genuinely proud of the progress she’d made through the tournament. “Jus’ promise you’ll make room on the cushioned seats next year.” If he had anything more to say about Tiberius’ situation, he just didn’t. Too many years in that line of work that involved discrepancy and secrecy to know when some things shouldn’t be pressed on. For some unexplained reason, when Lita dared to ‘touch the bunny’, Leo felt some unseen weight lifted that had plagued him for the past couple days. But he didn’t reveal that expression much, either. “Trix, bloody behave before I watch her turn you into a g’damn hat.” He was about ready to retire for the night, a calm ship waiting for him in the cove.

Lita always makes friends this way. Ask Leo, he'll probably tell you. Tiber does not warrant special treatment. Lita doesn't expressly believe in luck or jinxes, unless it's all working in her favour, but she'll look a tad perplexed when she aims to kick a bar stool towards the goon only to see it miss by a few feet- FEET!- and teeter dangerously close to the new billiards table. Perhaps a tad more luckily, it only crashes into one of the sawhorse brackets, sending it to the floor with a crash and whatever materials, tools and blueprints might have been laid atop it until the next day could see the job finished. She didn't even bother glancing to Leo after. She'd apologize tomorrow, maybe.

Lita said to Leoxander, "Lucky rabbit feet would be more apt."

Tiber looks at Leoxander who is finally leaving him along in his convincing tactics. Why is it not working? When did Leo not comment on the things Tiber was doing wrong? He glances over to Lita and company. This is all too much. Lita is kicking the barstool. The Catalian throws back the rest of his glass of whiskey before standing. "Later." He 'peaces' out with a pivot until the chaos starts. No more chaos. Lanara would kill him.

{I thought Nort was tired, and me and him wind up posting simultaneously lmao}

Nortengaal helps himself to one of Leo’s smoke, lighting it with a little flame conjured between thumb and forefinger. He takes a deep drag and exhales slowly through a contended smile. Nothing like a good smoke after a bit of roughhousing. “Where do you get these anyways? Figurin I should get my own supply at this point.” As Trish continues taunting the man, who to his credit hasn't quite had enough yet it seems, he shakes his head a little and takes another long sip of his whiskey. Leo and the other man, so far known only as ‘Tibs’, go back and forth in their own conversation, and Nort opts to stay out of it. Clearly, there’s something Leo knows that he doesn't - probably a lot of things really, all things considered - and Nort knows when to leave well enough alone. Turning his attention back to the man, who at this point is reaching for the be-bunnied and skittering Trish, he clears his throat loudly to get his attention. When the man looks up at Nortengaal, realizing perhaps for the first time how sizable the bearman is, Nort leans over the bar and blows smoke in his face. “You’re bleedin' on my bar. I suggest you follow your friends out the door.” he says, in a tone that is very much not a suggestion. (Well, it aint Nort’s bar, but he doesn't need to know that.) The man’s eyes go wide and he finally gets the hint, turning on his heel and muttering under his breath as he leaves. “You haven't seen the last of -” his words are drowned out by the stool Lita kicked knocking things to the ground and he increases his pace, all but running out the door.

Inas status as a jinx is a proprietary secret- but this is one of those moments where she feels a little bad about the discretion she exercises insofar as her condition. Perhaps in large part because the dockie actually manages to catch her. Not so much by her neck like he intended, but by one of her feet- dragging her back towards his person, even as his other hand reaches to mirror the action, throttling being set aside for the possibility of a potential wishboning. Only, it doesn't quite work out that well- because it's at that juncture that Ina opens her mouth to offer something -other- than snark. Specifically, a rather condensed stream of fox fire aimed right at their lovely guests' trousers, in essence, providing him a rapid-fire route towards a gelding. It's likely difficult to tell whether the whistling sound emitting from him is a pained squeal, or simply the fats beneath his skin steaming- but the distinct thud of him tripping over his feet and clocking his skull against the bar top is unmistakable. Ina, for her part, simply sprawls in a small heap, murmuring something about "Fresh Prairie Oysters fer those interested." A few moments later, and the 'earned' ring is shucked from her paw and hucked a pathetic distance forward. A motion she repeats a couple of times so it can reach Leo with the necessary dramatic emphasis, "Here, I dun want it. This guy was such a sore loser 'bout tha' whole thing."

Lita slips from her seat at the bar, nose wrinkled at the stark and sudden stench of burnt flesh. She was not drunk enough for this mess. And she'd hate to leave Leo with it, well, no, she'd hate to leave Nort with it. He's been a kind sort to her thus far. Seeing the wee bun deposit the ring in offering to the pirate makes her laugh as she takes a few steps towards the door. "Be good all." She calls over her shoulder, heading out the door. Her departure is perhaps followed by a loud curse as she trips over her own bare feet and lands in the dirt. Thanks, Trix.

Leoxander hadn’t missed Nortengaal referring to the bar as his. He’d let it slide, for now, but maybe in the future he would point out who that bar belonged to. For now, he had faith in the therianthrope’s loyalty and said nothing. “Take a swig, bear. I’m ready to close up for the night.” The warehouse would remain unlocked. No one (well, perhaps Arlyeon) would be stupid enough to try to steal without being tracked down abruptly. Even so, there were security measures he might not mention. Blue eyes lowered to the ring, and those eyes narrowed. “Out.” He directed the rabbit, or whatever she was these days, almost preferring the crow where he could keep an eye on her. He wasn’t about to just take a trinket from the Harlequin without knowing anything about it. She’d already got him once with the molten scale cake.

Ina should feel bad. Probably. Setting a man on fire when the bouncer reaches him is probably tantamount to bullying, especially when said individual is werebear. She can't even say she's impressed at that last bout of movement that gets him out the door- in large part because the higher pitch carried in his ominous threats for the future. As for the ring, well, she's leaving it there- given the hassle that'd ensue. She had the poor bugger's coin purse, anyways. Now? Now she just needed to retrieve her clothes from where she'd stashed them, because Leo seemed on the verge of finding a plank for her to walk, "Aye Aye."

Nortengaal kinda hoped Leo wasn't offended by his saying the bar was his, he’d said it mainly for the intimidation effect more than anything else. Ah well, he didn't mean anything by it, and he’s pretty sure Leo knows that, even if it did garner a look. He finishes what’s left in his glass in a long swallow, putting it down on the bar near the other used glasses. “If you don't mind, I’d like to tidy up a bit before I leave. That blood is gonna stain if it sits there too long, and there's the glasses besides.” Not to mention the items that Lita knocked over strewn across the floor. As for Trish, he pushes her clothes out from behind the bar where they'd been stashed away, making her egress from the JR all the easier. And that ring…well, if nobody else wanted it and it remained after everybody else had gone, Nort might just slip it into one of the pouches at his waist - for safekeeping of course.