Julian Markum (tangiblemoments) wrote in darkcarnivale, @ 2011-08-11 23:55:00 |
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Current mood: | annoyed |
Who: Julian and Poda
Where: The Midway, Julian's booth
When: 12th August 2011, late afternoon
What:
Rating: Medium (swearing and a tad bit of violence)
Status: In progress
The hangover had more or less shifted, thankfully. His head felt better now that he'd put some very considerable distance between himself and that ring, having thrust it in Cole's direction and all but demanded he take it to Eric and just get it away from Julian. That said, he still wasn't one hundred percent again, but he was as close to it as he could be considering he'd just dealt with feeling what it was like to fall from Grace. Mortal was as mortal did and he was most definitely that, fragile and precious, wasted seconds on worry and other such things that took up time.
Currently he was haggling with a woman over a locket that she claimed belonged to her mother, but Julian had seen the truth of the object. It was older than that, possibly even older than both himself and the woman combined. She'd stolen it from a dying woman in a care home and was now trying to pass it off as a precious family heirloom, but Julian wasn't having any of it. She'd cave, they always caved, it was just the way of Julian. He could if he wanted talk most people out of their belongings.
Eventually they settled on a price and Julian smiled to himself when she left, grumbling about extortion. Arkady would want to see this object, especially as it had once belonged to a lover of the great Cassanova. Julian placed it one side and adjusted his tie, turning away to reach for his cigarettes and lighter. He was in the middle of lighting one when a man approached his booth, thick in neck and distinctly ill at ease. And he was heading right for him. Fun-fucking-tastic.
Julian inhaled a breath of smoke and held onto it as he weighed up the approaching figure, eyes ticking over him. It was only when he saw what he was holding in his hand that Julian's disdain turned to that of concern. It looked like a... revolver. Immediately his alarm bells went off and Julian straightened up, playing casual for all the world to see, wishing not for the first time that the midway had security in the same way the Burlesque and Hooch tent did. Although he could be overreacting, it could be that it was empty and he just wanted to trade. It was possible, entirely so.
He flicked ash to one side and adjusted the way his shades sat as the man finally joined him at the stall, reeking of three day old alcohol and smoke. "What can I do for you?"
"You the trader, right?"
Julian nodded his head. "Yeah, I am. Why, did you have something to trade?" His attention constantly fixed on the gun clutched in fingers that could easily be mistaken as the sort that could if needs be crush all life from a much smaller throat.
"Yeah," the man replied gruffly. "This." He held up the revolver, black in colour and obviously well worn and used. It was old, that much was apparent, and Julian found his gaze drawn to the chamber. The designs were intricately wrapped around it and there was a morbid curiosity as to whether or not the gun was loaded.
Anybody else would have turned the man away, but not Julian, not when his object spidey sense if you will was tingling. There was a real danger here, especially if the man turned the gun on himself, Julian or the crowd that was mingling nearby.
"Is it loaded?" Julian asked.
"Dunno," the man remarked as he very casually moved it in his hand as he spoke.
"Can I check?"
The man shrugged and offered up the gun at which point Julian accepted it with a hankerchief, rotating the chamber out to observe the inside, but thankfully no bullets. No risk then. Satisfied the gun wasn't a danger to the people around him, Julian looked up and felt something twist uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach as something just felt... wrong about this whole thing, but he couldn't put his finger on what it might be.
"No trade," Julian said with a shake of his head, ignoring his object sense for the first time in a long while. Something didn't feel right, with the guy, not the object.
"What?" The man all but snarled. "You gotta trade me." He got to within an inch of Julian, but Julian to his credit held his ground.
"I don't have to do anything," he pointed out. "I'm not trading with you." He offered the gun back and held the other man's eyes. "Now, leave."
Unfortunately this man wasn't the sort to be reasoned with and that unsettled feeling Julian had was justified because a second later and the man had lost his shit, meaning Julian had been shoved backwards, right into his stall. Julian was staggered, but not staggered enough to move when the man surged forward like a man possessed. What the fuck? Julian tossed the gun and scrabbled to his feet, attempting to calm the situation down by talking, but that definitely wasn't working.
Julian had no idea where the sudden anger had come from, but perhaps if he'd touched the revolver he might have realised, given that the revolver like all weapons had been used to commit multiple crimes and it was the only thing tying this man to a string of attacks in town. Without it, the police had no case.
Violence didn't come naturally to Julian, but when the other man's fist connected with his jaw something inside of him snapped and Julian slammed a curled hand into the man's stomach. It all sort of disintegrated from there really and the scariest thing? Julian had lost track of where the revolver was in the grass.