loch lemach gives zero fucks (cutandthrust) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-02-10 10:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !narrative, !playerplot: a building of rooks, loch lemach |
Who: Loch Lemach & NPC
What: Delivering a commission. (Narrative)
Where: Loch's secondary office in the warehouse district.
When: Tonight.
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
The delivery is to be carried out with minimal fuss. Loch had offered to take the goods to an assigned location of her client's preference, her proverbial footsteps light as she made another attempt to get closer to the man pulling the strings. A failed attempt. Perhaps her casual mention that she offers this service to all her clients (she does not) is like snapping a twig in her approach. Or perhaps her quarry already knows he is being hunted, and has chosen to stay hidden in the dark which has sheltered him for so many months. Loch's offer is declined. When she opens the door to her office it's the backer's man in her threshold, wearing an aquamarine suit identical to the one during his first meeting. Perhaps he buys them wholesale. If anything could make a man carrying a bulky package through the warehouse district past midnight attract even more attention, it would be that suit. Or perhaps he's banking on the assumption that nobody worth worrying about would imagine anyone would be so stupid as to transport illegal cargo in such a conspicuous outfit. "Miss Lemach," he says with a strained smile. An invisible force seems to press down on him to extricate a shallow bow, imbued with nothing resembling sincerity. "What a pleasure it is to see you again. I assume you have the finished product, as agreed?" Loch wishes he would do away with the pleasantries and affectations. A business transaction of the sort that needs to be conducted indoors and under cover of darkness does not require small talk. She never asks her smuggling partners how are your kids doing or have you recovered from that nasty cough a few weeks back. No one looks for friends in business partners. A greeting, money changing hands, see you next month. Simplicity is key. She could try to educate this man in that art, but what would be the point? He will have no head to store the knowledge in before the month is out. The Rooks are cushioned in linens inside a wooden crate labeled liquor with a seal marking it as Kerwonian in origin. Nobody will blink an eye at someone carrying expensive booze into the Nobles' District. If that's where it's being taken. Worth it to sneak out the back and follow the guy again, but Loch has a feeling she may end up at the same rundown warehouse as last time. No new leads, and no way to guarantee Ofelia Zhou will keep buying what she's selling. But that's a concern for another time. "Thanks for your purchase," Loch says with a nod of the head as perfunctory as the servant's earlier bow, once the crate is secured in the back of the carriage. He had the good sense to bring a carriage, this time. And a couple of grumpy-looking grunts. Maybe the three of them can hold hands when their boss dumps them into the harbor. "Have a good night." The door slams in the servant's face and Loch throws the purse with the second half of her payment on the table. The sound of the chocobos' clucking carries on the air when she opens the window in the back room and climbs out. |