Garrick Evans (stillinbusiness) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-10-20 22:59:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | 2009-07-30 |
Let's dig a hole in the sand, brother
Who: Garrick Evans and Jezebelle Marino
Where: The Old English Armory
When: Early evening
Whenever he found a few minutes to spare in the store, Garrick could often be found inspecting the inventory. Some of the swords for sale were not ones he particularly wished to part with, all things considered, but he was a businessman first and foremost, and you didn't make any money if you didn't sell anything. No, he was concerned that they would go to someone who wouldn't care for them the way they needed to be. Those deerhorn knives he'd sold to the vampire woman the week before? Good as gone, and he knew it. She'd been the kind of vampire that gave his kind a bad name, and made the less-than-legal prospects of his job that much harder.
Oh yes, Garrick was well aware of the debate in town the previous day, but he was not one of the vampires in attendance. Seeing as he wasn't "out" like some of his kind were, he didn't particularly care which way the debate fell. After all, his job had been much easier to accomplish when there weren't prying eyes trying to figure out if a vampire was behind it all or not. Garrick had always been careful about covering his tracks, and he'd be doubly so in the coming months - likely years. This Light of May thing was ridiculous, all things considered.
He picked up one of the broadswords hanging from the wall, turning it over in his hands. Behind him, Gregory the shopkeep's heartbeat was so loud he was surprised it didn't break the boy's ribcage. Gregory had nothing to worry about - he hadn't failed Garrick yet.
It had been a while since the demon attack and the home invasions she'd incurred, but Jezebelle hadn't forgotten how ill equipped her front entrance had been. The fire poker had worked nicely against Saoirse, but that was because she was young and inexperienced. An older vampire wouldn't have been quite so easy to drive off. In fact, she was still convinced she'd lucked out with Lex, and likely needed another hand held to fit in her purse. With all the drama going on in town-- and the killings-- it would be stupid not to better arm herself.
Nikita was her best bet if she wanted to blow something up, or go in with the full artillery, but this time Jezebelle wanted a blade. Nothing extravagant or over the top, but something old school. Something strong and frightening. She'd asked around with those in the know and was sent to The Old English Armory, a place she expected to sell imitations. As soon as she stepped in she knew she was wrong, and was quite pleased about it. Her eyes ticked around the room. So much to choose from.
Garrick would have had to kill himself if he was ever selling imitation weaponry in his store. His swords were like an extension of his hand, quick and deadly and efficient, and from a very young age he'd always had great respect for the weapon. He was examining the blade as the woman entered the store, and had he been in the habit of smiling, he would have tossed one her way. But, as he was Garrick Evans, he didn't, but did look up from the broadsword and give her a nod.
The first thing he noticed was the lack of a heartbeat - a fellow vampire then. At least she carried herself better than the trainwreck who had been in here a few days prior. Setting the broadsword back into place with more respect than one might assume, he turned to face her. "Evening," he said.
"Evening," she answered back, smiling softly as she noted the lack of heartbeat. While she ran into other vampires from time to time, it was usually on the streets, not in their place of business. So many vampires no longer needed to work, and thus didn't see the need. When they did, Jezebelle preferred to buy from them, feeling a bit like she was supporting her own kind. A weaponry shop run by a vampire definitely had her nod of approval. "I'm looking for a few new blades. Preferably built for battle, strong, but not so heavy as to weigh me down. Do you have anything you might suggest?" This was not her expertise by any means, but that didn't mean she couldn't handle it.
The idea of not working was much more foreign to Garrick. Part of why he'd been turned was to save his family business, knowing no one else after him would be able to sustain it, keep his father's legacy alive. Garrick had done that and then some. It was through smart investments, and adapting to the ever-changing times, that kept his various businesses alive and turning a profit. She even spoke eloquently, and with some knowledge of what was for sale in the store. Perfect. Waving Gregory off, deciding to handle this one himself, Garrick made his way over to where she was currently standing. And looking for a blade built for battle? Garrick didn't like anyone, but he could be fond of this one already. "I have a few that might work out," he said. "Depending on what size you're looking for, if you prefer a sword, or the lightweight ease of a dagger." The rapier was his favorite, but he didn't mind smaller blades either. Easier to conceal, that was for sure.
A sword or a dagger. Did she have to choose? Both could be useful and might just be completely necessary. It would be easier to say what she wanted without a human in the room, and that was remedied only moments later. The vampire sent his coworker away and Jezebelle felt even more at ease than before. "I might have to go with one of both," she said, her eyes on Gregory's retreating form until he was gone completely. "If I may speak freely, I recently found myself fighting a demon and discovered just how lacking I was in the arms department. I used to have quite a supply, but it... walked out on me. So perhaps we could look at those first?" She'd have to handle them herself, just to see how they felt, but suspected she'd know when she found the right one. Then they could look into finding her a new dagger.
Gregory was good enough at his job to listen to whatever Garrick said - mostly because he was scared to death of the man. Really, Gregory had nothing to worry about, Garrick didn't kill those who served him well. So long as the boy didn't screw up royally, he was fine. Murder was, after all, a tricky thing to get away with this day in age, and the attention it would bring was something to be avoided if he could. "So many these days don't know how to properly arm themselves," he said, whether from the fact that he literally came from another time period or that the youth of today just didn't have the same sense of respect, he couldn't say. "You've come to the right place. Any particular style you care to see first?" He looked her over once - nothing lewd in the gesture, merely taking in her height and weight so he could select a weapon. Garrick took down a rapier first and passed it over. "Something like this, perhaps?" It was close to what he fought with himself, but a little lighter than his own sword.
"I keep something on my person at all times," Jezebelle admitted. "It astounds me when our kind assume it's not necessary, as if we're invincible. I would have never purchased such a thing as a human." Her lips turned up, imagining how that would have gone over when she was still alive. They would have thrown her in the loony bin. Women did not carry weapons, not unless she'd snuck a letter opener into her pocket. Or a kitchen knife. It had been so easy to get away with murder when no one ever considered the women. "Oh, now isn't she beautiful," Jezebelle said as Garrick handed her the rapier. It was light enough to use with one hand, which she preferred, and she weighed it before giving it a proper swing. "I've never been good with knowing weaponry styles-- it's not my expertise-- but I do like this. Do you sell them sharpened?" She wanted it ready to use, just in case Lex showed up on her doorstep again. Or Saoirse.
One corner of Garrick's mouth turned up. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was about as close as he was going to get. "Wise of you. I have always found it better to be prepared for the unexpected." Some might have considered "arming yourself" to mean you should carry a gun or something, but not for Garrick. It was blades or nothing else. And to think, men now were content to go around with only a pocketknife on their person. It was amazing they weren't all dead by now. Genuinely pleased at her reaction to the rapier, Garrick took a step back so she would have plenty of room to swing. You couldn't judge a sword by looking at it, you had to pick it up, feel it, test how it felt in your hands. At her mention of it not being her expertise, Garrick looked up, curious now as to what house she might be from. It wasn't often that he'd met other Shades, aside from Lex, of course. "It's a beautiful weapon, elegant, looks to suit you well. And yes, I can have it sharpened for you, if you would like. I also know someone in town who can properly care for them afterward." A weapon was nothing without proper maintenance, after all.
More often than not, she was the unexpected, but Jezebelle would not wait for the roles to be reversed to find herself unarmed. She thought of that day with the fire poker, how inadequate a weapon it had been. Had this been in her foyer, she could have carved the bitch up nicely-- the wounds would have healed, but not without leaving a trace of trauma behind. Sticking someone with a fire poker just didn't feel the same. "There's something graceful about a well made blade," she said, smiling softly as she gave it another swing. Yes, this would be perfect. "I would greatly appreciate the referral. I've handled them, was taught to fight with them at one point, but never learned how to properly care for them." Dixen had taken care of that for her, when it was necessary. As useful as it had been to stay with her sire for so long, now Jezebelle saw it as a crutch she was glad to be rid of. It was better to learn things on her own than rely on him indefinitely.
Going with the unexpected was something Garrick could definitely respect, seeing as it was a technique he often used himself. Someone who just looked at him, the old man in a sharp business suit, and thought he was a few years away from being put into a nursing home. They didn't know he had three or four blades tucked into his clothing. They didn't know how many people he'd cut down with his swords. And they didn't need to know. His vampirism, his strength, was the ace up Garrick's sleeve. "But of course, I would hate to see it go to waste. There are so few of us out there who know how to use them, aside from leaving them up on the wall in the foyer like some trophy." He had blades he did not use, yes - but they were a weapon, built for battle and ready for war. Not one of his blades, no matter their age, showed evidence of rust or damage. "The blade suits you. Forgive my curiosity, when did you learn to fight?"
She didn't tell him for fear it might offend him, but Jezebelle planned to keep the sword by the front door, in the umbrella stand. It seemed like a silly place, but she saw it as useful, easy to access when she needed it most. Other weapons were hidden throughout the house, and maybe she'd find a better place for this one, but hanging on the wall was never an option. If she wanted a trophy, she'd have mounted her husband's head upon the wall. That was a kill she was proud of. "Another in my house taught me, a hundred years or so perhaps? She was a pirate who was amazing with blades of all sorts. I've carried a knife on me ever since, but it's not always what I need." Hence, the purchase of a sword. "Why do you ask?"
She was right, likely that would offend him. But then again, Garrick's swords were his way of life, of course he took care of them as his prized possessions. He nodded, "For curiosity's sake, nothing more, I assure you." If he wanted information, he damn well knew how to get it. This was Garrick being friendly - or as friendly as he got, anyway. "It's not often you see one of our kind choose this as a weapon, the youth are so quick to go for the quick kill - guns, grenades, the like. I was still human when I first learned how to handle a blade, but I've learned so much more over the years." His first kill had been with a sword, and he hadn't looked back since then. Dresden had taught him well after he'd been turned.
"The things we learn with time," she said, a smile twisting on her lips. Her own methods of killing had adapted over the years and she rarely needed to resort to the trade that made her a Shade in the first place. If she were killing for herself, all she needed was her bare hands. It was only when she went on a job that Jezebelle put her poisons to use. "Women did not handle such things when I was human. A kitchen knife and a sewing needle were the most dangerous items expected of me." She handed the sword back to him, ready to look at the daggers. "Underestimating your opponent is the quickest way to fail," she smirked. "I'll take that one, and would like to the smaller ones now. If you please."
"Indeed." That smile on her face? It said more to Garrick than she probably realized. One, that she at least respected the trade as much as he did, and two, that she could potentially be of his house. It had been too long since he'd met with any of the other Shades, aside from Lex, of course. While he didn't care much either way for the freedoms of modern women - in his time, a woman's place was far different than what it was now - at least she knew what she was doing with said weapons. That was enough, in Garrick's mind. "Agreed, and I've bested many who've made that mistake." And he loved the feeling it gave him, every single time. "I'll know not to do that with you." Taking the sword from her, Garrick led her over to the daggers. "My collection of these is not quite as large as the swords, obviously, but I do hope you can find something that could be of use to you."
"So long as we don't make enemies of each other, we're both safe," she smiled. This was a man she would never best head on, at least if swords were involved. If they were enemies, she would have to catch him off guard, but she couldn't imagine what would have to occur for it to come to that. "I've had a number of different daggers over the years," she said as she looked over his selection. "Sometimes I find I just want a new one, even if all the others are perfectly functional." It was like buying a new pair of shoes, or a new purse. As someone who carried a weapon on herself at all times, a dagger was an accessory, just like anything else. It didn't need to match her shoes, but it did need to fit in her purse or somewhere similar. "May I see that one?" she said, pointing to a knife with Celtic designs on it's sheath. It was beautiful, but she needed to make sure it was functional as well.
"That's always the catch, isn't it?" He spoke with little emotion in his voice - but then again, it was Garrick's way. Anyone could be considered an enemy at one point or another, and as a Shade he did work for the highest bidder. Garrick's price was quite high, however, but at least his employers could rest assured that the job would be done, and of course it would be done right. "Depends on which one suits your purpose, I would think," he said, "I rarely carry just one." Honestly, they'd been talking about weapons for how long now, she could figure out that Garrick was armed. He also didn't show off said weapons unless given a reason. He plucked down the dagger in question, turning it so he could offer it to her hilt first. He'd had that piece imported from Ireland, a little too flashy for his tastes, but still, it got the job done.
"But, of course." Most of Jezebelle's enemies were dead, or in a place that prevented proper retaliation. She would not go after Dixen as she sometimes wished to, nor would she ever follow through with the amount of harm she'd like to cause Lex. They were of her house, and both her superiors. Attacking them and getting caught would be the death of her. "Concealed weapons need to be functional, not flashy," she said, thinking of the silver knife she carried on herself at all times. If she were to come up against a vampire, nothing else would do. "Somehow I'm not surprised to hear you carry," she smiled. "Just knives or something else?" It was a bit of a personal question, but based upon their current discussion it didn't seem out of line.
Garrick was not the type to keep enemies for very long. There was a reason why he'd been sired into the Shades, and that was the ruthless nature he kept well hidden. If it came down to it, he could, and he would, kill to protect his business, to ensure that things went the way he needed them to. "Agreed," he said, "and those tend to be my favorites, truth be told. Simple, but never fail to get the job done." He let his fingers drift across one dagger in particular, a simple hilt, an impossibly sharp blade. "Always knives, a dagger in my boot, a sword when I'm out. I carry a rapier, similar to yours, though I had mine built for me several years ago." And by "several" he meant a couple centuries. It was near impossible to find a decent blacksmith anymore, and definitely not in a middle-of-nowhere place like Scarlet Oak.
So blades really were his weapon of choice. Something about that Jezebelle liked, as if they had something in common, even if she didn't know what. She had a hard time believing he didn't kill these days, but that was due to her belief that only pansy vampires settled for a diet of a hundred percent bagged blood. "I would offer something to poison the blades, but I have the feeling that you only strike to take down permanently," she smirked. There was a time when her poisons had been highly prized for the infections they could create with just a scratch. She didn't have to take the hit when people were willing to attack for her, knowing that all they had to do was scratch their opponent for the poison to set in. "I'll take both blades, if you please."
Garrick was a very classic sort of vampire, when it came down to it. He didn't believe in drinking blood from a glass, finding the idea to be a sign of weakness. They were the creatures the humans had learned to fear, and it was straight from the source for him. He was also old enough to know how to hunt properly, and he didn't get caught. End of story. One corner of his mouth turned up in the closest expression Garrick had to a smile, "The offer is appreciated, but you can rest assured, when I strike, I don't miss." Gathering up her purchases, he led her over to the small counter. It had been quite a while since he'd discussed this much with a stranger, let alone one who actually knew what she was talking about. "I shall keep the thought in mind, though, should the need arise." One never knew, and Garrick was good at keeping what contacts he could, both legal and illegal. It occurred to him then that he did not know her name, and as he set the blades down on the counter, he turned to offer her a now-free hand. "Garrick Evans, for the record."
It was as she suspected and she would have been disappointed otherwise. Anyone that good with a sword didn't need a poison to aid in their injuries. "Jezebelle Marino," she said, accepting his hand. The name rang a bell in her head and she tried to place it, sure she'd never met him before now. Had he been a contact? A friend of Dixen's? No, that was something she would have remembered. It was very possible that he was of her own house, that she'd picked up the name from Dixen or one of her peers somewhere along the way. If that was the case, he would definitely fit the bill, but she wasn't sure enough to call him out on it. Instead, she opted for the more discreet. "I feel like I've heard your name before. Did you know Dixen Perle by any chance?"
While Garrick was excellent with names - one had to be, given his line of work - the name Jezebelle was only vaguely familiar. He was sure he did not have a prior business arrangement with her, but if things continued as they were so far, that could certainly change. The name Dixen, though? That he remembered, and something of a sour look crossed his face. Another vampire of his house, and certainly not one Garrick recalled with any sort of fondness. How he'd survived so long, Garrick was unsure - but then again, he never bothered to hide his eltist nature and he wasn't going to start to do so now. "I know of him, yes," he said. "I hesitate to call him an acquaintance, and I have not heard of him in some time." Did Dixen have a Jezebelle with him? Perhaps.
Yes, Garrick knew Dixen-- Jezebelle was sure of it the moment his lips turned down. While she'd cared for Dixen for many years, she knew him to be cocky and arrogant, an ass to those he thought beneath him. How he came to that decision, Jezebelle never know, but it never surprised her to meet someone who didn't get on with him for that reason. Judge lest ye be judged, or something like that. "He's my sire," Jezebelle said with a twist of her lips. "Not my favorite person at the moment either." She did not think it rare that a sire would part with his childe, and she hoped he would not question it. It was still too recent for her to speak on the matter without emotion.
Garrick too had an elitist attitude - but that was because he really and truly believed he was better than most everyone around him. He'd been born into nobility and that sense of entitlement wasn't something you just outgrew the longer you stayed alive. There was nothing cocky about his actions, that was just his personality, and he didn't go around bragging about it the way Dixen had. Hearing that Dixen was her sire confirmed it, she was a Shade. And if nothing else, Garrick had not met someone of his house, aside from Lex of course, in some time. "I am quite sure he brought that on himself," he said, and left it at that. It wasn't unusual for a sire to part from a childe, Garrick was of the belief that you couldn't hold someone's hand forever. Lex was responsible for himself and had been for quite some time; Garrick would only offer his help if Lex could be troubled to ask for it - which would only happen under the most dire of circumstances. "I must say, it is rare that I meet someone from our family who I did not previously know."
"Even more rare to meet them by chance," Jezebelle smiled. "Though I must say, it makes me even more confident that I've come to the right place. If there's one thing I trust from our house it's that our taste in weaponry seems to be exquisite." Be it knives, swords, guns, or flame throwers. For her it was poison, and for Graham it was explosives, and she couldn't imagine either of them relying on anything but the best of the best. Her mind ticked back to the explosion that had been on the news, just another example of how good a true Shade was at their job. "There are a few more of us in town," she said. "Scarlett Oak is either highly dangerous or very safe."
He didn't return the smile, not exactly, but the small corner of his mouth that turned up was enough. "I can assure you of that," he said. "I only sell the best I can find, and I am pleased to know they'll be going to someone who will care for them properly." He expected no less from a fellow Shade, even if Jezebelle's specialty wasn't blades. Sometimes it didn't matter how you accomplished the job, so long as it got done, and all of them used weapons outside of their comfort zone. Garrick just preferred to never be so caught off guard. He nodded, "I know of one. And I suppose that will depend on the week." A Shade with an assignment meant the whole town could burn for all he cared. The Shades weren't the sort of house to draw unneeded attention to themselves, so he knew that bullshit from a few weeks back had not been one of his family.
Jezebelle had no doubts that Garrick was all business when it came down to it, that nothing could stand in his way when he had an assignment. She was the same, even if she suspected the sort of jobs they came across could be drastically different. There was always more blood and violence to come with a blade. "I can promise you, they will be cared for and they will be used," she said with the utmost certainty. Now that he knew of her house, the later was easier to admit. What Shade didn't use the weapons in their arsenal? "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Garrick. Should you ever be in need of my services, I own a flower shop called The Moonlit Garden. You can find me there." She didn't think he'd ever need anything from her, but connections were always valuable and they meant nothing if they only worked one way.
Garrick nodded at her, pleased again that she'd come into the shop. Any connection to made was a good one in his book, especially within in his own house. He was not the type to get jealous when one Shade had an assignment when another did not; they were all hired for a certain set of skills, and everyone had their own price. Garrick was just a little more costly to hire than some of his brethren, but if you paid for the best, you got the best. "I am glad to hear it," he said. "And the pleasure is returned, I can assure you." Even when his face didn't show it, this was one of the closest moments Garrick could get to happy. He filed away the name of her business, the Moonlit Garden, for future reference. He didn't need it now, but one never knew. "I'll keep that in mind, should the need arise. I'm sure I'll be seeing you at some point in the future." Could be next week, could be a few years from now, one never knew. Regardless, Jezebelle had made a good impression, and he wasn't the type to forget such a thing.