No Rest for the Wicked [Visualspice] (M)

[Nightcrawler]

Fletch stooped to grab his belt off the ground. He brushed the filth and muck from it as best as he could. He thought Skippy might be the squeamish sort, and he could just see her kicking him in the nose rather than letting him bind her ankle with dirty leather. Behind him, the two of them bickered. He kept a keen ear towards them, but he kept it subtle. Packages, huh, he thought. No one of respectable means lurked in alleys talking to bums about packages. He wondered if she ran clandestine errands for someone. Maybe she did dead drops. Maybe that meant she'd be a useful friend to have. Someone with connections. Someone who could help him get his land legs in this place.

Well. He'd just have to wait and see, wouldn't he.

"Right," Fletch said as he stowed his knife and turned back to face them. He brushed his coat aside and plopped abruptly down in front of her. He pulled the shirt scraps out of his pocket and laid them over his leg, then set the belt under her foot like a stirrup. "You ready, then?" he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. Frankly, he didn't care if she was. He wanted away from this smelly old man and he wanted his damned smokes. Before she could respond, he wrapped the belt up and over, crossed it around her ankle a few times, and began to tie it in place with the scraps.

[visualspice]

He raised his old withered hand up to his mouth and attempted a whisper. 
"It's been a few months, you know."

Missendria gave him the death glare.

"Marvis, go back to your pile of old rags before I get angry. "

Except the old man didn't listen and wobbled over closer to Fletch.

"That's a strange way to fondle a lady. Here I thought a man was to undress his girl, not wrap her feet!"

"Marvis," She hissed, warningly. 

"Her ties are in the back," Marvis Whispered to Fletch. "Bet those strong hands could take 'em off with one good yank!"

"Marvis!" Missendria shouted, standing up suddenly. "Out of the alley.  Out!"

But the old man was snickering as he made his retreat, calling over the Fletch. 
"Scissors work, too!"

Missendria threw an old boot at him before he disappeared around the bend.

[Nightcrawler]

The old man hobbled closer until Fletch could smell his breath. And the rest of him. He screwed his face up at the stench but kept his eyes on his work. "Eugh...do you just go around eating nothing but onions all day? What is that?" he murmured. The bum bent over him. Fletcher's eyes flitted down to his knife for a split second. He tensed.

"That's a strange way to fondle a lady. Here I thought a man was to undress his girl, not wrap her feet!" the old man exclaimed.

Skippy shushed him. Maybe she was fine with having a captive audience, but Fletch wasn't keen on it. He sat up, still clutching a strip of fabric at both ends and midway through tying a knot. He gave the man a warning look. Something about all of this was sort of amusing, but he wasn't about to let his prowess with women be questioned. "Not my girl. Certainly not taking her clothes off in an alley. I'd have a bit — more — finesse — than that — thank you," he said, pausing between words as he tightened up the last knot on the brace. "There. Done. Give it some weight. Should be good enough for now."

He stood and put some distance between himself and the bum, but the old man scooted along next to him. "Her ties are in the back," he whispered. "Bet those strong hands could take 'em off with one good yank!"

"Do I look like I don't know my way past a corset?" Fletch blurted out before he could stop himself. "And don't you have somewhere else to skulk around and be — "

But Skippy, to his surprise, seemed just as done with the bum as he was. Without warning, she stood up from the barrel, bent, grabbed a boot, and lobbed it bodily down the alley after him, narrowly missing his head. Fletch watched the unwelcome intruder disappear around the corner. He started to chuckle. "You've got good aim, Skippy. You any good with darts?" He turned back towards her. Then he remembered what he'd said in front of her and his ears went hot again. He cleared his throat.

"Odd company you keep," he said, doing his very best to divert from that particular topic. The last thing he needed was for someone useful to think he was a lech. "Well. Let's get going, then. I think I'd prefer the people out in the street staring at me to the ones back here. I'm sure you do, too. Ones back here certainly know you quite well."

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Missendria gave him a look. She was tired of the circus she always had to deal with. She especially  didn't need Fletch labeling her as their 'friends'.

She tested her weight on her foot and managed to hobble better on it.

"Come on, let's get you your tobacco before even I decide to pick up the habit. "

She was never fond of smokes. Never liked the smell. But.. as Marvis proved, there could be far worse smells in the world. 

She had lead the pair around a few more narrow, back alleys before they returned to a smaller, yet still fairly populated section of the city, where there was no less colors than Fletch had seen before.

She held onto her skirts and proceeded across the street.

"The Copper House should have a few brands of flakes." but as she approached she paused, frowning as she looked at the sign posted on the door.

"Well.. looks like they're closed. "

She frowned. How.. odd. And during such a busy time? Others passed by and seemed to think the same. But there wasn't much for it. She sighed. 

"Come on. There's another shop a few more blocks that way." And she began the next hobbling course with as much pride and patience as she could muster, but walking with a compromised ankle was exhausting. 

[Nightcrawler]

He wasn't sure which he hated less: the dingy back alleys away from public view, or these bright, unfamiliar streets and throngs of people. If he knew where he was, he'd be perfectly happy in a crowd. But as it was, he felt like he had a target on his back.

Still, Skippy led him with the practiced, albeit shuffling footwork of a woman well familiar with this part of town. As he followed, he watched her, his interest piqued by all she'd kept hidden. She was not just some priss who'd set her cat on him. Now she was a puzzle to be solved. And the more he looked for the signs, the more he saw that she knew what she was doing. And he was impressed. He almost forgot where they'd been going in the first place.

Right. Tobacco.

The first shop they approached was closed. She motioned for him to follow to another. She seemed confused. Almost frustrated. It was fine, though. He thought he could hold out a few more blocks while he sorted through all of this. He could —

"You're shitting me."

Fletcher did a double take, stopped in his tracks, and peered across the street. It couldn't be. Nobody was that stupid to stand out in full view with their pilfered earnings. But no. There they were, plain as day: the little twats who'd tried to rob him while he lay prone and disoriented. The two of them leaned against the wall of the far building. The cherry on top: they were smoking his cigarettes. "Ohoho," he chuckled under his breath, but it was a mean kind of laugh. "Is that so? Is...that...so." He clapped Skippy on the shoulder without so much as a warning. Hell, he didn't even look her in the eyes, but kept his own trained on his vertically-challenged targets like a predator on prey. He looked positively, menacingly gleeful. "I'll just be a moment," he murmured as he slipped away and wound around gaggles of oddly-dressed women and stuffy-looking men.

The urchins spotted their sailor victim far too late. By the time they had, and their beady little eyes went wide and their dirty mouths gaped open, he'd closed the distance between him and them and scruffed them both by the shirts. He held them there against the wall, immobile, grinning like a maniac first at one, then the other. "First rule of pickpocketing," he began, his voice dangerously silky. "You don't go and celebrate it for all to see. Ey? Now give me that. You're too young to be smoking." In one swift motion, he released the one on the left, plucked the lit cigarette from his mouth, and popped it in his own. He grabbed the kid's shirt again and took a drag, ignoring the sound of their whimpering as that first blessed pull of smoke rolled into his lungs. "Right," he growled. "Now you know as well as I that you don't fuck with a man's baccy. So I'll only ask this once: which one of you has the rest of it?"

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Missendria scrunched her face.

"What? Where are you going?" She called after, annoyed as she held onto her skirts and wobbled after- only to pause as she watched Fletch assault a group of children.

"Oh for Kia's sake.." 

She wasn't about to let Fletch accost the boys without repricussions, but as she made her way over and realized what Fletch was doing...

She folded her arms across her chest.

"Is this really necessary, Fletch?"

She eyed the boys- just the usual street urchins. 

"I thought we were going to buy you some? Not shake down the pockets of.. well.. pick pockets."

[Nightcrawler]

The boy on the right produced his tobacco pouch with a quickness. Fletcher scowled at him, dropped the little shit's collar, snatched his stolen possession back, and stuffed it securely in his coat pocket. He thought about cuffing the lads. He really thought about it.

"Is this really necessary, Fletch?" As if on cue, Skippy hobbled up beside him. Fletcher jumped. He hadn't expected her to sneak up on him like that. "I thought we were going to buy you some? Not shake down the pockets of...well...pick pockets."

He sniffed and looked between the two terrified, speechless urchins. He thought better of his original plan. He released his grip on the children and backed away. "Go on," he grunted, and gestured with his head for them to scram. He watched them book it away. They didn't even look back. "And be smart about it next time! You halfwits," he barked after them. Then he turned back to Skippy, stared a moment, took another drag, and blew it away from her face. He raised his eyebrows at her criticism. "Only getting back what was mine," he said, "and teaching a couple of absolute cabbages what not to do. Besides. Now that's one thing off the list you have to worry about, ey? So let's find this man and this inn of yours, and get you and me patched up."

[visualspice]

Missendria sighed. All of this hobbling around was doing a number on her. But she (well eventually..) had things to do and she had promised to help. Of course, she was becoming grumpy and rethinking her life choices.

She took a moment to rest her ankle, not looking forward to walking on it again. They didn't have to to terribly far.. but with her ankle as sore as it was, a few steps made simply walking a chore.

She took this time to also watch the kids disappear around an street corner, one hand to her hip.
"Doubt you'll see those two again."

She eyed puff and stuff and nodded.

"You sure there won't be any more.." and she paused in midstride to him up and down. "Distractions ?" She gave a reflexive fluff to her hair before continuing to lead the pair down the way.

[Nightcrawler]

Skippy was nagging again, but Fletcher took his time. He savored the moment. Every drag he took soothed his agitated mind. The things that had irked him — those little brats, then the cat, then the bum — began to melt, giving way to clear, simple focus. "Alright," he said to himself as it all lined up in front of him. He had a job to do. Now he could do it proper. First: get the arm cleaned and salved and bandaged. That much was obvious. Then: figure out where in the hell he was, who to talk to, and how to get his boots under him for a minute. And Skippy could help with both, if he played her strings right.

The thing she couldn't help him with was deeper, and he might have to find the bottom of a bottle for it to come into view.

He returned his attention to the woman and flashed a winning smile. Now that he'd gotten what he wanted and knew where he was going, he looked for all intents and purposes like a different man. Or at least a calmer, more amicable one. "Got what I came for. No more distractions, love," he confirmed with a casual salute off his brow. "So let's be off." He glanced down at her ankle and saw that she'd shifted her weight off it. He tutted. "Yeah, that's not going to hold, is it? Come here. Take your weight off it. No arguments, now, or you'll make a scene. And we can't have that, can we?" He held his good arm out for her expectantly.

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Missendria took a step back, reflexively.  She stared at the offered arm before looking up at Fletch.  Why did she want to shove his grin back inside his face? And why was she being so adverse to his help?

Then she roughly latched onto his arm and gave a grumbling huff as she rolled her eyes.
"You smell like an ash tray. " she shook her head. "But let's just get on with it. You know.." she gave a jerk of her head to try to get her blonde hair out from her eyes. It just settled back where it was. "So that arm of yours doesn't fall clean off."

[Nightcrawler]

They started forward again. Skippy certainly put on a convincing show. The way she huffed and scowled, Fletcher thought he might have flustered her a bit. He chuckled. Something about it gave him a kick. She'd been so uptight. So bloody bossy. Now he'd found a gap in the armor; a button to push. Odd that it was chivalry of all things, but...he shrugged. Women weren't meant to be fully understood, were they? "You must not have met many sailors, then, if that's a surprise to you," he countered, still grinning. He nodded towards a couple of men as they passed by. "You could go hang on one of these fops' arms if you want to smell eau de useless wanker instead. Doubtful they'd get you to a medic, though." He cocked his head knowingly. "And then you wouldn't be able to run your perfectly legal errands, ey?"

[visualspice]

Missendria flashed him a sharp look. What was his game here? Why did he keep brining up things about her.. as if he knew.

Her gaze grew suddenly hot and guarded, and before he could think better of it, she shoved the man up against a nearby wall (once they were at a corner where no one could see) and he'd feel a cold blade poking at his side as anger continued to flash defiantly in her eyes.

"What games you playin' here, Red?" She demanded, the words tart and low as she kept that unyielding gaze upon his.

"I'm not a fan of surprises, and you're acting too obvious in your interests to be some passing stranger."

Did he work for her boss? Or some other of those damn spidery crime Lord in the city?

[Nightcrawler]

One second he'd been ribbing her and thinking little of it. The next, he was up against a wall with a blade tearing a new hole in his already ruined shirt. Skippy glowered up at him like a little dog with a big bark. Before he could stop himself, he began to laugh — first a wheeze, then a quiet chuckle. Then he descended into a coughing fit and turned his head away from her and into his shoulder. With every shake, the blade wobbled a little further in until it began to cut flesh. Fletch wasn't particularly concerned. She wouldn't shank a man in broad daylight. She wasn't the sort. She was just mad that he'd figured it out.

"Huh," he smirked. "So I'm right." Slowly, he raised his good hand, palm out so she knew he was unarmed, and took one final drag before tossing the cigarette butt to the street. He regarded her again, his cough barely contained. He tasted iron on his tongue. He swallowed the blood away and the mirth drained from his face. "Not playing games. Don't think I've told you anything but the truth, actually," he replied, keeping his voice low and steady. "I don't know this place. I don't know anyone here but you, your shit cat, and your old man friend. I was just messing with you — honest to the emperor. And it's taken me a bit to figure it out, but you aren't flawless at keeping your secrets secret, love. Especially — "

Fletch stopped mid-sentence. He glanced over her shoulder and out into the narrow slit of visible street. His amber eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. He looked back at Skippy. "It can wait. You know you're being followed, yeah? Don't look now. That woman, there, in the blue. And that man with the stupid coat. Third time they've passed by, now. They friends of yours?"

[visualspice]

Was he.. was he laughing at her!? Her face turned red with anger.. and maybe a little bit of embarrassment before she slipped the blade away. Was she that obvious? She prided herself in her covert ways, wanting to keep her less than legal lifestyle unobtrusive yet.. thus stranger saw right through her.


She supposed the incident in the alley only cemented any speculations Fletch had. But ordinary folks didn't rightly look for the things Fletch was pointing out and she had to wonder what sort of life he lived before someone 'apparently ' dumped his ass here.

She supposed She could press him on that later. He said they were bring followed... and she nonchalantly caught a glimpse of the pair the man was talking about. They weren't familiar to her. And this made her frown. 

"No.." she hissed under her breath. "I don't recognize them at all " And she knew this side of the city rather well. However.. it was a very big city and she would never boast knowing everyone.

She eyed Fletch and muttered. "It's probably just your paranoia. This is a busy street."

And yet....
She was trying her best to think if she might have seen either of the women elsewhere. 

"We... Should keep moving. At this rate you'll lose both arms if we don't get your head checked. " And she hastily yanked him from the wall and dragged him along until he was keeping pace.

[Nightcrawler]

Fletcher kept one eye on the strangers while he watched Skippy mull it over. She'd turned an impressive shade of red, but as funny as she looked, he didn't dare laugh at her again. Leastwise, not when he needed her help. He could almost hear the gears turning in her pretty head. What he'd said was true: rare as it was, he hadn't told her a lie since he got here — wherever 'here' was. At last, he felt the blade leave the tiny notch it had cut in his side. She stowed it and released him.

"I'm not paranoid," Fletch murmured as he brushed himself off. "I just know to keep an eye on my arse, that's all. Especially when all either of us has are knives, fists, and wounds." He shot another furtive glance around the corner. He couldn't see the strangers. The two must have realized they'd been spotted. "Shit," he said. If they were being followed, their tail would just be more careful now. Before he could give it a second thought, Skippy scruffed him and pulled him bodily off of the wall.

"Oi! Let me go, you daft cunt. I can walk just fine." He stumbled after her and did his best to pry her fingers off of him as they burst back out into the main street. "My head is on perfectly straight, thanks," he grumbled. "How much farther to the inn? You make a man need to drink."

[visualspice]

Missendria seemed unaffected by most of his come backs. But when he said the last.. about what 'make a man need to drink' she stiffened visibly at the remark, needing to turn away. 

She didn't need to be reminded of him or her failings right now. She just had to get this man to the inn and that would be that.

"It's just a few blocks away," came her terse reply, eyes glued to the road ahead. "Then you can suck down your alcohol," She spat. "Or whatever it is you had plans to do in this city."

And true enough, the inn wasn't far away, and once she saw it appear at the end of the road, she began to walk a little faster.

[Nightcrawler]

She'd gone from hot to cold in a matter of seconds. She might as well have sucked all the sunshine from the air around them. A familiar, instinctive jolt of panic struck him in the gut. It felt awfully like when he'd disappointed his mum. Or when he'd gone one step too far with...a friend. A wince flashed momentarily across Fletcher's face before he pulled it back into his usual hardened-yet-charming expression. Surely he didn't feel guilty. Did he? No. Why would he? He hadn't said a damned thing to offend. Still, though, Skippy wasn't happy with him. That much was for certain. And if he botched this, who knew if he'd find someone else to show him what was what.

He realized he'd been quiet for a while. He cleared his throat rather awkwardly. "Erm. Look. I'm...sorry. I didn't mean to call you that. You're not daft. You caught me off guard, that's all." He shot her an apologetic grin. "How's about I buy you a pint? Least I can do with you showing me the ropes."

[visualspice]

She sighed, realizing she was being too short and.. open. Although, did it really matter if she was being transparent? Who was he to her anyway?

At his suggestion, she eyed him suspiciously.
God's she probably could use a drink. But she preferred to remain sober.. most of the time.

She shook her head.
"Look, Red Coat, we've just gone through some interesting situations in the span of what.. five minutes since we met? Just call it a girl being grumpy from over stimulation." Because sure.. that was all of it..
"Besides, that's it. Ye'lard's Place. Inn and Grub. Ain't too large or fancy, but it's nice all the same."

And the more she thought about it.. they might have that good pork and potatoe soup that night. She eyed Fletcher as the approached the front.

"Don't worry about my mood. And calling me crazy ain't exactly an insult.. considering the conpany," she went on, tucking back a smirk as she moved to open the door.

[Nightcrawler]

Fletcher ignored being addressed as Red Coat for the fortieth time, screwed up his face, and silently mouthed the word, "Overstimulation?" Sure, he thought. Now who's dishonest? He peered through the dingy window of the establishment Skippy had called "Ye'lard's Place." It looked like the common room of any other inn. A few patrons milled about inside, but it seemed rather quiet for the most part. He shrugged. "Fair bit nicer than my usual haunts, if you'd believe it." He was sure she would. She seemed to have formed an opinion of him as a vagabond shy a few marbles. But the more he came across as a sad, lost puppy, the more Skippy had been willing to throw him a bone. So maybe it wasn't a terrible thing that she saw him that way, after all.

Skippy moved to open the door. She was still limping ever so slightly — likely fucking up her foot even more in the process, the stubborn woman. "Don't make it worse on your ankle. Here," Fletch muttered. He grasped the door handle and performed an admirable impression of a man who was actually decent. "In you go, now. Let's find your man." He motioned for her to enter. But he hung back, hesitating at the threshold, and glanced again over his shoulder. The two who'd been tailing them were nowhere to be seen. Still. Call it sailor's intuition, but he felt them. Were they here for his unlikely companion? Or were they, for whatever godforsaken reason, looking for him?

He shut the door firmly behind him and followed Skippy into the inn.

[visualspice]

She shot him a look when he got the door for her, but said nothing. As the pair entered the place, she sighed and took a moment to relax against the wall.

"Feel free to sit over by the hearth.  I'll go fetch Ye'lard. "

He'll likely be in the kitchen. She thought, still taking the moment to rest up her ankle and muster up the energy to walk on it again. But then she spotted Nola, Ye'lard's wife, scuttling off towards the kitchen. That was.. odd..normally the woman was almost too quick to greet her when she showed up. But then a moment later, the kitchen door was flung open and a man who was so massive he could barely fit through the thing stepped out, a sizzling plan cooking meats in one hand - the other holding open the door.

"Bless the makers name ! Missendria! It's been ages!" The man bellowed excitedly as he charged over towards the woman and picked her up in a strong hug- lifting her clean off the ground and somehow not burning her nor dropping his pan in the process.
"Young lady, it's been too long! And look at you.. have you done so something to your hair? And why.. that blush can't be just for me.."

Once she was set down, the big man realized she was in pain and dropped the pan onto a table.

"You're hurt!" He turned to the kitchen. "Nola! Quick! Bring the potion book!"

The woman nodded, disappearing into the back while Ye'lard continued to fuss. Missendria was indeed blushing as she tried to get the man to calm down as she interjected,"Yes! I know.. I hurt my ankle! But I didn't come here for me. I-"

She didn't get a chance to explain Red Coat when the large man caught sight of him.. and his face exploded into a big smile of laughter.

"Missendry.. you didn't tell me you finally got yourself a man!"