|A desperate man asks Marshall for some help before his court date.|
|IC Date||September 1, 2012|
|Players||Nils, Marshall, Simon, Carson|
Nils enters the crypt, shaking his head at something. "Alright, its done. Now to sit back and wait." He heads to the bar and takes a seat. "Screwdriver seems appropriate."
The night is been active for a while - a few hours past the sinking of the sun beyond the waters. As usual, Marshall and his assistant have found themselves in his favorite booth and are watching the crowd with casual interest. As Simon has a drink or two at the bar a man near by can be heard talking to his buddy,
"I'm going to do it..."
"Dude - you're crazy. You don't know if it's gonna work or what he wants in return." The friend retorts. With another swig on his beer the first man retorts quickly, "I don't care. Anything's better than what I got coming to me. I ain't going to jail for that bitch..." Nils looks up, arching his brow at the conversation. "Interesting." he says, looking at Marshall's booth. "Always up to something." He watches, seeing what comes of this.
'The guy' takes the last swig of his beer and pushes off the bar to weave his way through the crowd towards Marshall's booth. His friend tries to talk him out of it while he's walking away but it seems to have little if any affect. The two end up at the booth in a few moments - the crowd of angst-ridden gothlings are surging back and forth like the tide tonight which makes moving in any one direction rather difficult unless you intend to impersonate Moses. Though difficult to hear, if basically impossible, Marshall invites 'the guy' to join him as the friend hovers close by for moral support.
Nils ahhs. And thus that guy reveals himself. Very interesting. He keeps an eye on those two like a hawk, not even touching his drink. If hes quiet, he hopes he can see or hear whats going on.
The discussion goes quickly enough - there doesn't need to be much at this stage of the 'arrangement'. The guy stands from the booth and turns to wander back to the bar a bit shaken. His friend lingers a bit but quickly catches up and saddles up with him at the bar. "Dude...I told you that you would fuckin regret it..." the friend laments. "Yeah - but...I didn't think..." the guy mutters, "...and that's your damned problem bud." The friend groans audibly and calls for a beer from the bartender.
Nils Arches a brow. Regrets. Interesting. He takes a silver cigarette case from his pocket and pulls out a cigarello. He doesn't light it, perhaps preoccupied with listening. He turns on his Ipad. "Oh what now. I swear. I can't pee without the emails coming in." The two friends seem to be processing through what was asked by Marshall - the one trying to convince the other and the man who asked winding through the various permutations.
"Dude - we'll just figure another way out of this...your court date isn't for a few weeks and there's always the chance that..."
"You can't do it..."
"I'm not going to jail..."
"But to...'kidnap someone'?" the friend asks with the last part in a hushed tone that might have been covered by the squalling music pounding through the room.
Nils tilts his head. Here and there he hears snippets. This "Im not going to jail" gets his attention. Yep. Look distracted by the IPad. Nothing going on here.
The man at the bar all but inhales the beer he was nursing as he gets 'that look' in his eye - the look that says that he's considering any and all actions that could keep him out of jail. "I don't have a choice, bud..." he explains and pushes himself back from the bar and turns to head for the door outside. "Nah wait bud...you can't do this.."
Simon considers and takes up another glass newly filled and wanders over to the booth. NEver know till you wander up to the web if the spider is home or not and he takes a seat with little hesitation, "Good evening..." This said to Marshall as he takes a seat.
Marshall, apparently ignorant of what was being discussed at the bar continues to pretend to sip at his beer.
Marshall glances up as Simon joins him and Sam at the booth. "Good evening friend...what can I do for ya?" he asks politely
Simon nods, "More of a curiosity thing... I've noticed you over here and said, what the hell, he looks like a person that may be in the know and I like to know."
Marshall raises an eyebrow at the man's question. "Usually people ask me for favors - or information or the like. You'd be surprised at how many people want someone -else- to handle their problems." He snickers a bit and glances over to Sam who takes a patient sip of his beer. "As for being 'in the know' - sure...I know a few things; it's how I can help people."
Simon nods, "Information is a good ting, but for handling problems I don't often find I have trouble in the regard... Then the city is filled with many mysteries. The name is Simon, or Mr. Darklighter, either will work well enough."
Marshall offers his hand to the man and introduces himself, "Name's Marshall...nice to meet ya Simon." He pauses to take a sip off his own beer and then asks, "...what kind of work are you in?" The throng of people seem to crush around the booth but no one seems to push too tightly so as to bump against the 'bubble' around them. Oddly enough - as soon as any would take a seat at the booth the ear-pounding 'thump-thump' doesn't seem as loud. It's almost like there's an invisible volume control that's been dialed down a few knotches.
Simon reaches for a card and hands it over, "Metal works and smithing..." The card having the name of the business, Darkest Dawn Smithing, "looking to expand that to guns, cars and such as well."
Marshall accepts the card, examines it and then slides it over to Sam for safe keeping - that's his job. Many people know how to weld - or basic metal working but few people would consider themselves a 'smith'. "What do you normally work on? Daggers and knives or something more elaborate?"
Simon nod, "Anything that anyone can conceive of and if it can be made... Course blades are more functional, but they can have a bit of flare added into their design."
Marshall hrms, "Have you ever forged a sword, blacksmith?" he asks with a deeper - more serious tone. The words roll forth from his lips with the resonance found in a fantasy movie or novel - though absolutely ernest and true.
Simon nods, "I've had many occasions to craft swords and other weapons... all functional, not like that replica crap on the internet."
Marshall asks, "What kind of sword would you forge for someone like me? Something for a fast fighter...not cleaving in two but something sharp...yeah," he ponders for a second, "...fast and sharp. Any thoughts - and what does your schedule allow for construction. Are you free to take on a new project?"
Nils waits until the man leaves and comments, loud enough for Marshall to hear. "Your friend is in trouble with the law, I see?" he asks.
Marshall waves Nils over to his booth since can barely hear the man over the music in the club. Nils picks up his drink and heads to Marshall's booth. He takes a seat, settling in. "These clubs always leave me smelling like angst and cloves."
Marshall nods, "Yeah - we usually have to take a shower once we leave. The stuff sticks to you like bad pot." Sam doesn't acknowledge the comment about the showering or the pot but does take a silent sip of his beer and kicks at Marshall's leg under the table. Nils chuckles "But of course." he says. "so what was that about your friend being in trouble with the law and whatnot?" he asks, crossing his legs and sitting back. "Cigarello?" he offers.
Simon considers the question Marshall had asked him about a sword, "For speed of course I would always recommend a rapier... You can always stylize a basket guard hilt to make it much more personalized." The fact Nils joins in doesn't bother Simon at all, "Hello Nils."
Marshall glances to Simon and then back to Nils with a raised eyebrow, "You two know each other?"
Carson pushes the door open roughly and makes his way into the bar. He pauses just inside, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he glances about, taking everything in.
Simon nods, "You can say that, more than know really. Been running around and shit talking awhile now."
Marshall asks, with a faintly serious tone to his voice, "You two a couple or something - I mean...I don wanna judge or anything but just seems kinda one-sided cause...you're a beast," he finishes smiling while giving Simon a wide-eyed, comical grin. "I got an eye for these kinda things."
Nils smiles. "Oh I dont know." he looks at Simon "Think we should start going out, sugar?" he says. "Imagine the kids." he chuckles. "Anyways, what was that guy talking about? What sort of legal trouble is he having?" he sees Carson and motions him to join them, recognising the face.
Simon nods and noticed Carson too, hanging his head out of the booth, "About time you found this place... Come on over and get away from any fanatics..." He looks to Nils and laughs, "Well I did first meet you when you had features that I liked more... but you have more money now too... Give and take I guess."
Carson arches an eyebrow, and then begins rcognizing faces. The man slips his leather jacket off and makes his way over, sliding into the booth. "Sorry, been busy. Ran into a chick out at Da Bing last night. Bitch wore me out."
A few of the regulars of the Crypt watch 'his booth' with near rapt attention as not one but three people have joined Marshall tonight and they don't look like they're negotiating for a favor. Oh my god...Marshall -laughed-. Yeah, this can't be good. Something that was said between Simon and Nils catches his attention as the conversation and introductions continue that he can't help but inquire about, "...Features that you liked more..." he repeats Simon's words and then looked to Nils, "Oh...didn't know you went for drag. That's cool..." he adds with more of a smile to his face that he's had for a while. Sam, Marshall's assistant, hasn't seen the man this jovial in a while and his confused - if pleased expression could be read so easily. "...bet you're not the only one that got worn out by a bi...eh...hey, I'm Marshall. How ya doing bud? Can I get ya a beer?"
Nils pauses. "Its the boobs. Theres been about three people that have told me thaey like me better as a woman." he shrugs. "But Nils Ashley is not a woman. Nils is a man of wealth, sophistication and taste." He says, twirling his hair with a mangled finger. "So is that a yes or no, sugar? Are we dating?" He smiles playfully.
Simon smiles an shakes his head, "Same s the asking for a sip Nils, I like the female bits more... Not sure I can really get past the image of you currently." He laughs a bit more, "But I got your back in everything else. And you know I'm not wanton for money either so that doesn't add tot he equation... I'd be more likely to go out and shag an 80 year old woman for her inheritance. And that is a long shot as I do so like them young and tender more."
Nils snaps his fingers. "Darnnit. Shot down again. Where's a guy like me supposed to find a decent date these days?" he chuckles and leans back. "I kid, I kid. Hey. Simon. You heard about the buyout, right? Maybe Nils might not even have to show himself. I'd love to be able to take a more..natural face, but right now Nils is needed, until Prometheus is set up in Prospect and I have my lab and everything." He points a mangled finger at Marshall "And you are avoiding the question, my friend. What sort of trouble was that guy in?"