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Post by skybright on Jan 3, 2006 23:35:00 GMT -5
It was a typical Friday night at Lusus Naturae. Nature Laughs Last was in fine form (if you liked that sort of thing) at one end of the room, and a cluster of fervent fans danced along with the music (with various levels of skill and intoxication). A lively game of pool was being observed by a cluster of patrons (the local pool shark, a short, redheaded, round-faced man with goat's horns protruding from his head, had challenged a newcomer to a 'friendly' bet, and the observers were eager to see yet another rookie taken down). Pink, lord and mistress of Lusus Naturae, watched over everything with her typically laid-back but all-seeing eye.
Regina Dawson elbowed her way past a cluster of tipsy, giggling young women near the door and weaved her way to the end of the bar opposite the stage. There, "Ferret" Stubbs was putting away what was probably not his first glass of gin while his perpetually-silent counterpart (Daws wasn't sure what other word to use), Taniwha, looked on.
Daws had touched the Ferret for information on more than one occassion -- he seemed to know at least part of everything that went on in the mutant underground -- and tonight was no exception. She elbowed up to the empty seat on the Ferret's left, nodded at Pink for her usual rum and coke, and looked around with an air of feigned nonchalance. Then she removed her battered fedora, ran a clawed hand through her perpetually-mussed black hair, and said lightly " 'Lo, George. How's business?"
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 3, 2006 23:59:54 GMT -5
George did not answer immediately. He had a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. With his tongue between his teeth, and both elbows leaning back on the edge of the bar behind him, he was mesmerized by a sinuous female figure doing a dance that appeared to have nothing to do with the band's music.
After a moment, it sank in that the person beside him had been addressing him, and he turned. "Eh? Oh. 'Allo, kitten." He grinned lazily at Daws. "You wanna 'ave a drink?"
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Post by skybright on Jan 4, 2006 0:16:51 GMT -5
"Got one, George." She said, accepting said drink from Pink, "And we've had the conversation about you calling me 'kitten'.
"As I recall," She added pointedly, setting her hat on the bar and sipping her drink, "It involved you not doing that and me not robbing you of any of those fine pointy teeth of yours."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 4, 2006 21:11:34 GMT -5
George assumed a pouting look. "Aw, but it's just a injure-endure-indearererment," he slurred. "Jus' like when Pink calls me Weasel Man."
Behind the bar, Pink rolled her eyes. George's interpretation of her "endearment" was... questionable, at best.
"So what brung you 'ere tanight?" George continued, sitting up straighter and squinting at Daws. His eyebrow hiked up as he added cheekily, "Looking for a date?"
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Post by skybright on Jan 4, 2006 21:35:36 GMT -5
"Looking for some excitement." Daws replied diffidently, still scanning the room with faux-nonchalance. She caught what could only be called a leer from the Ferret and added hastily "Not that kind of excitement, George. Looking for work. Things've been slow in my line lately. Figured someone around here might have a bit of work for a down-at-the-heels shamus." She examined her claws and asked casually, "What about you? How's tricks in the sneak-and-eavesdrop business?"
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 4, 2006 21:58:47 GMT -5
"Noth'n more exciting than watchin' these drunk guys fight," George murmured. He jerked his head toward the bar crowd, then winced at the pain the sharp movement caused in his head, and took another swig of his gin. "I'm gettin' bored."
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Post by skybright on Jan 4, 2006 22:14:39 GMT -5
"Bored?" Daws feigned a look of surprise and took a swallow of rum and coke. "Now, really, Ferret-me-lad, you expect me to believe that? Exciting job like yours, working for the -" She cleared her throat - "Auspicious fella you work for? I'd have though life was chock-full of excitement for you two guys." She gave a nod that encompassed both the Ferret -- who was squinting drunkenly at her -- and Taniwha, who didn't appear to be paying attention. Then again, the big, silent feral mutant never did seem to be paying much attention -- until he started injuring or threatening to injure people.
Daws returned her attention to the Ferret. She was looking to gain a little insight into that "auspicious fella" she'd mentioned: but whether she could weasel (pun intended) it out of the little Englishman remained to be seen. Ferret wasn't the brightest crook in the barrel, even sober; oblique hinting probably wasn't his strong suit. On the other hand, point-blank questioning might well arouse Taniwha's attention (not something she was keen on doing). So she was taking the soft-touch approach and exercising her patience.
Daws spun her barstool around and leaned a little closer to the Ferret -- the better to accommodate his squinty eyesight. "Now admit it, George," She purred, trying for a flattering tone, "Surely you've been up to something interesting lately -- clever fella like you."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 4, 2006 22:26:43 GMT -5
George, being George, took Daws' sudden change in tone for something that it wasn't--perhaps not unintentionally.
"Oh, sure," he purred, blinking languidly at her. "You wanta go see where we buried the bodies? It's nice n' private there."
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Post by skybright on Jan 4, 2006 23:07:54 GMT -5
Daws could think of something like forty-seven different responses to the combined leering and suggestive tone George was favoring her with, ranging from scathing witticisms to personal physical violence. None of them, however, would further her purposes and several of them would attract that aforementioned unwanted attention from Taniwha.
Daws didn't rank 'flirting' high on her list of her most-used ablilities -- it was actually down somewhere with 'whistling the national anthem backwards' and 'poultry juggling' -- but that didn't mean she was above using it when she needed to. She bit back a few suitable clever retorts to George's suggestion and said lightly, "Sounds like you're a more dangerous man than I thought, Ferret."
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 4, 2006 23:29:08 GMT -5
Things were starting to get more interesting to George. Pushing aside his glass, he grinned toothily and batted his eyelashes at Daws.
"Who, me? I'm jus' a... er um... puppy dog." (He had been going to say something cat-related, but thought better of it at the last moment.) "I don't like blood. It's messy. In fact, me boss don't like it either--you din't think that, did you? But it's true. We don't like blood," he reiterated, with a sage nod of his head.
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Post by skybright on Jan 4, 2006 23:47:42 GMT -5
"That so?" Daws raised an eyebrow. "Funny, I've heard different -- about your boss, I mean. But," She added, leaning back casually against the bar, "Could be he's just . . . misunderstood." She tipped her glass to George. "Folk like us know about being misunderstood -- don't we, George?"
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 5, 2006 0:06:06 GMT -5
At Daws' remark about his employer and benefactor, something stirred deep within George's gin-soaked brain. He frowned at Daws, leaning toward her with a new scrutiny.
"Wha d'you mean about that?" he asked. "Who's this misunderstanderin' the Boss?"
Without actually waiting for an answer, he folded his arms and slumped sulkingly. "Misunderstanderin'. An' him givin' away millions to people like us. What's to mis-mis-whatever 'bout that?"
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Post by skybright on Jan 5, 2006 0:25:42 GMT -5
"Not a thing, George." Daws said smoothly.
She waved at Pink and gestured at the Ferret's nearly-empty glass of gin. "Pink, wouldja freshen George's drink up?" Nothing helped an information-gathering conversation quite as much as intoxication did.
"Now, look at me, George," She gestured vaguely at her catlike face and lashed her tail for emphasis. "NO-body can appreciate someone helping out our type of people more than I can. Heck, we need all the help we can get, the way the 'norms' keep us down. Humans hold too many cards in this world, if you ask me." This wasn't too far from her personal sentiment, honestly, but she laid it on extra-thick for effect.
"So like I said, there's not a thing against the Boss helping folk like us out. I've just heard that your esteemed employer," She cleared her throat, "Is into . . . well," She grinned and winked conspiratorially, "Let's say, some more 'ambitious' projects. And," She added, as if she felt the conversation was finished, "More power to him." She raised her glass in a mock-salute, and held her breath. Now let's see if he buys it . . . .
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Post by Jordanna on Jan 5, 2006 20:40:53 GMT -5
The conversation had taken a turn George didn't like. However steeped he was in alcohol, he always had a fair sense of when he was being played. Daws did it almost every time he encountered her, and he liked the attention--but tonight, she was fishing in perilously deep waters.
He thought as quickly as his inebriated state would allow.
It wasn't unusual for people to invoke Nicholas Tiernan's name at Lusus, at least indirectly. In the mutant community, it was a sort of ambient knowledge that dropping his name at the bar was a means to obtaining his charity. But Daws wasn't the type to want or need charity--and she was alluding to something much more significant. People did that, too... when they were interested in joining the organization.
George didn't think Daws was that type. He might have been wrong; she certainly was no human-lover. But she was also a detective, and even a mutant detective might have funny ideas about the human-authored laws that ran things. The question, then, was: for which reason was she suddenly curious about the Boss and his activities? To help, or to muck up the works?
As much as he genuinely liked Daws, he reluctantly decided it was a question for higher powers to ask.
"The Boss thinks things orta be leveleled out, 's all," he murmured. As Pink approached him with the gin bottle, he waved a hand at her and shook his head. "I don't want no more o' that... I'll 'ave a nocturne."
The code words were spoken with deliberation and what, in George's condition, passed for firm eye contact with the bartender. Pink raised a pencil-drawn eyebrow at him, her expression otherwise as flat as ever; then she wordlessly turned to put the gin away.
George watched with docile interest as Pink turned again behind Daws' back, and stabbed a hypodermic device into the detective's upper arm--neatly, swiftly, discreetly.
There was only the briefest flash of surprise on Daws' face before she slumped forward, unconscious.
Quickly George leaned forward to catch her. "Easy now, love." To a bemused patron looking over from the other end of the bar, he grinned and remarked, "She doesn't 'old it so well, does she?"
The onlooker shrugged and returned to the business of getting falling-down drunk himself. George looked over at Taniwha. "'Elp me out, 'Ori. This un's for the Boss."
Hori lumbered forward and gathered Daws into his arms like a child. He followed George around the end of the bar and through the back exit, and the two men set off into the night with their abductee.
(Continued at The Bunker)
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