[Fourth Wall!]

[markofthewise]

(ooc: Catch all for my characters. Put the character you want to tag in the subject line please!)

	Sokka is still not exactly in the greatest mood. As a result, he's trying to just ignore the fuss and stick to the smithy. When he's not there, he can be found at home or maybe ducking into the wood.
	Logan is going to just ignore everything forever and be in the Battle Dome. Of course, the usual rules don't apply. Which means his Danger Room sessions are bound to be interrupted. Later, if he gets a chance, he'll try to find a seat in Good Spirits.
	Ganondorf has no use for these fools! Except maybe someone can be useful. Which means he does go into town and can be found in the plaza, watching intently as people come and go. Unfortunately he's starting to think they're all useless.

Comments

[markofthewise]

[He's watching her warily.]

I understand perfectly. Hey, you mind showing me the back of your neck? It's kind of a thing among us Lucetians.

[whitby]

[ her eyes widen -- momentarily like those of a baby deer suddenly caught in the hunter's sights. to her credit, she manages to look more frightened than guilty. being a young gamine helps in times like this. ]

'Fraid I do mind, sir. I mind it very much. For my own father once told me to never bare my neck to a stranger when there are knives within reach. [ flip the topic, robin. make him the untrustworthy one, not you: ] I don't even know you, do I? You could be one of those lunatics who likes slittin' throats.

[markofthewise]

I'm the town smithy. Everyone knows me. Everyone except for the new faces.

[Sure, he's giving her some benefit of the doubt. He did, in fact, just make up the thing about being showing their necks to one another. But she didn't call him on that being made up. Also, he's not in a great mood.]

[whitby]

And I'm one of them. The new faces. Just not one of the newest faces. I am, as the crow flies, only demi-new.

[markofthewise]

Demi-new? [Is that a name? Buffy mentioned the name Demi Moore, once. That was a name. But this didn't sound name-ish.]

Look, you seem... okay. But there's a ton of people in town. I don't know if they're staying or if they're refugees or what. But last time this happened, I lost nearly my entire stock. I can't just give away stuff to every person who walks in.

[whitby]

[ ah. so it's a matter of payment, is it? robin jams her hands into her pockets. she must have something... ]

New I might be, my friend, but I understand the value of quid pro quo. Name your price. I have...

[ christ in high heaven, but she had half a biscuit of hardtack and a letter opener she nicked off the captain of the salty serpent last week. hardly money in the pocket. ]

I have something to offer, I'm sure. [ offer, yes. actually fork over? nope. ]

[markofthewise]

[Aha. Sokka leans back, arms crossed.]

See? Now I know you're new here. General rule of Luceti? No one has nothing to offer. I usually work for favors. But I've got so many favors owed to me, I can't even remember them.

[whitby]

...Bugger.

[ she drags her hands free -- letter opener in palm -- and seemingly gives up when she folds her arms behind her head instead. ]

'S cruel, really. Denying someone a weapon. Reckless endangerment. Neglect. Manslaughter by bloody proxy.

[ emphasis on the bloody. ]

[markofthewise]

While I do generally feel that it's good to have a weapon handy, there is a school of thought that says that people who come into a place and try to lie to get a weapon aren't generally the kind of people you want to trust in our town.

[But maybe this is settled. He can relax now.]

[whitby]

...Was only a piddly little white lie. Cream, possibly. I won't go no darker than beige. Beige is my final offer.

[markofthewise]

Well, if we're going to haggle... [Sokka reached under his counter and pulled out the smallest of small utility knives.] Final offer.

[whitby]

[ ...beautiful.

whitby leans on the counter and sizes up the blade. it's alright. it'd do. and the likely strategy that she should now take the knife and hold up the blacksmith for all he's worth does occur to her.

she touches its handle. abandoned is the letter opener, left askew on the counter's edge. ]

A wasp can sting as good as a snake, one supposes.

[markofthewise]

[Another satisfied customer. Sort of. Fortunately he has a whole drawer full of those things.]

It also comes with a bottle opener. That should come in handy.

[whitby]

[ out flicks a file, followed by the bottle opener itself. the slayer-pirate bides her time. ]

Are you -- [ her voice dips into a conspiratorial whisper ] -- suggesting I might be the sort of girl to open bottles to begin with?

[markofthewise]

[Er. For the first time in the conversation, Sokka is suddenly on the losing side.]

Er. Did I imply that? I didn't imply that. It's just a neat feature, that's all.

[whitby]

You said it was handy.

[ she opened one of the knives; she tests its edge against her thumb. ] In fact, your exact words were that it should come in handy. Suggesting, scandelously, that I might like to keep a bottle at hand. Tsk tsk. That's twice you've been rude, now.

[ never you mind that she lied. ]

[markofthewise]

Well maybe you'd like to work in a bar. I know a lot of good women who work in bars. Well, a bar. There's nothing scandalous about them.

[In fact, he feels that maybe he ought to be offended on their behalf. Yes, he can totally turn this around now.]

[whitby]

[ how disappointing! her ruse breaks just long enough for her to register her displeasure. ]

...You clearly haven't been going to the right bars, mate.

[markofthewise]

There's only one to go to.

[whitby]

[ she straightens from the counter -- blade still unfolded. ]

More's the pity for you, I suppose. Tell me. Do you drink there often?

[markofthewise]

I've been known to drink now and then.

[More often lately. But that's neither here nor there.]

[whitby]

[ a fork in the road. a decision to be made. ask the lad to stick'em up or ask him to stick 'round?

she plants one palm on the counter, testing her weight against it. idle and casual. for if she chooses the former, she'll have to vault it. ]

Meet me. Tonight. For a bottle or two. For I'm ashamed I've told you another beige'un and I don't mind a drop of whiskey when the sun goes down. Won't you have a drink with me tonight?

[ she depends on him being disarmed by her forwardness. ]

[markofthewise]

[Disarmed he is. This is in fact the first time he's ever really been invited to the bar in this way. For a moment, he looks a little lost. Er.]

Well uh. Maybe? I mean, I was going to be there anyway, so...

[But he's never touched whiskey. Hoo boy.]

[whitby]

[ with a crooked smile, she snaps the knife shut. her way is clear: take the blacksmith out for an evening on the lash, get him roaring drunk, then cajole him into handing over as many swords as a piratess could ever dream of owning. look at him! already flabbergasted. ]

Perfect. I'm looking forward to it. It's not every day you get to sip with a maker of such fine martial goods.

[markofthewise]

[He should probably be suspicious. But he's not expecting much of, well, anything. She seems harmless enough, anyway.]

It's a pretty common occurrence for most people here.