Who: Jack P and Shiloh F
What: Capital shenanigans, otherwise known as a back alley beside a bar
Warnings: Nada to start.
Seeing a man about a dog was a complicated business, all right? The dog had a habit of wandering. Into all the fine drinking establishments of the Capital, which was to say, anywhere you could conceivably execute a deal without anyone batting an eyelash, or rather ones where they might reasonably walk up after and ask for more of the same. Only the Bolivian import they expected was probably a bit different and it didn't go up one's nose. Jack had trawled half the bars on one side of the Capital, the ones where they didn't have a dress-code, and he was bored and tired of drunk idiots, largely because he was comfortably and coldly sober. He'd looked back. Back and back and back and
god he'd been boring and he didn't actually feel like a beer most of the time, but he felt it even less after that.
The quiet moment of you know, self-contemplation and all that bollocks ended abruptly when the dog in question made a move and Jack followed him in a roundabout way to the nearest alley for a follow-up. It probably looked a bit grim, to anyone watching, because the kind of person who groped about with someone else in an alley was either drunk or a tad desperate. Jack made an impressive effort of stumbling over his own feet and following, mumbling to whomever might have been in ear-shot. He didn't stink of booze, but he smelled of cigarette smoke and faintly underneath that, of the kind of incense that crumbled as it burned and was thick and heavy like churches. The trade was the trade. It wasn't like you bought and paid for these things the way you paid for coke, it was a dampened flare of light and the smell of sulphur and what Jack had in his pocket was now weighted differently to what he'd brought in in the first place.
The trade made, and enough to keep a demon in bounds and quiet, or about as quiet as those things got in his pocket, he had enough buzz in his veins to make carelessness in the corner of the very back of the alley and he lit his cigarette with a flare of blue flame that lasted only very briefly, and might even have been a novelty lighter. Mostly buzzing because you know, the alternative had been having his skin removed if he'd gotten the wrong person. Funny how that left you.