2017-04-15: Living in Hell Isn't Too Bad

• Log: Living in Hell Isn't Too Bad
• Cast: Josephine Lovelace, Jude Moshe
• Where: Adlehyde - Town Center
• Date: April 15th, 2017
• Summary: Josie takes Jude up on his offer of an interview (of her, that is).

---

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

By this time of day, the sun is already dipping quite low below the horizon; whatever light still remains will likely flee away soon. Still, the castle town of Adlehyde isn't the type to lie down and sleep when it goes dark. There are still many people going about their business as night threatens to draw in.

"You know, you should have just stayed behind," Josephine complains good-naturedly to the pigeon roosting on her shoulder. "I wouldn't have been gone too long, you know..." She sighs, briefly closing her eyes as if in exasperation; Penelope doesn't say a word, as usual.

"But this looks like the place."

Well, it sort of figured, didn't it? She'd had that sense that something was a little too convenient in her gut from the start. A girl like Lily 'just happening' to meet more than one helpful and friendly stranger while roaming around Filgaia with a price on her head would be a bit of a stretch, even by Josie's quite carefree estimation. There's optimism, and /then/ there's naivete; they're not quite the same.

But as for Lily, she'd done what she could.

And as for her own professional interest, well, that's also something that's a little bit different. A little reckless, especially now, sure, and a little careless, probably, but she knows herself well enough to know what suits her.

Unfolding the well-creased bit of paper, Josie cross-references once more the name of the inn before heading on inside to speak to whoever's at the front desk. This is indeed the one.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for..."

It probably doesn't take too long to find out whether or not he's in, and less to find her way up to the room.

Standing outside the door, Josephine raises a gloved hand to knock.

"Good evening! Jude, are you in?" she calls out.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

It really isn't that time-consuming to find Jude Moshe. The man seems to like to take care of himself -- the inn, just as Josephine figured, is one of the pricier ones in town, settled on the border between Adlehyde's residential area and its castle to give a truly expensive view of that expansive structure where Adlehyde's nobility resides. It's a place that stands out, no matter how you look at it.

The innkeeper seems to know the journalist well, at that; the portly, middle-aged man is quick to frown just a bit as Josephine mentions the redhead's name. An irritable grumble, a terse nod, and the man at the front desk gives Josephine a room number and sends her on her way.

"And if you talk to him, tell 'em I'm not accepting any alternative payments anymore! God damn cheating..."

Always a promising start.

Josephine, however, need only climb the winding stairs to the upper levels of the inn, and come to the third door on the right to find her target. A knock, a call past that shut door.

... and silence is her answer. Silence that reigns for an uncomfortably long time, such that one might wonder if he's even there--

"Uh. Kinda."

--and they'd be right to wonder, considering that distinct voice that finally comes exactly to the right of Josephine. And she only needs to look to see--

Jude Moshe, casually and quietly sliding his way into the building through the nearby window of the inn. On the second story of the establishment.

There is a moment there where Jude, half-hanging out of that precarious perch, just kind of stares at Josie. And then--

He just tips two fingers to his forehead in a most casual salute and a perfectly hapless smile to match.

"Guess you caught me, huh?" His voice as glib and easy as ever, he finally slides back into the inn entirely, arms stretching to lock hands at the back of his head as he peers at Josephine curiously.

"Josie, yeah? The mysterious match girl of my dreams." Lips crack into an affable smile as the redhead speaks. "Here to take me up on that interview, or the light? If it's for a light, I don't quite have the equipment on me at the moment. Sorry about that."

Well, he has matches on him.

It's the other, actually -important- things he doesn't have on hand.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Well, that's a situation /she's/ familiar with. On the other end, even.

"I'll let him know~" she says airily, as she slips through the door and begins to ascend the staircase.

There is but silence at the door. Frowning, Josie stares at the door for a moment, raising her hand as if to knock again only to hesitate and move to grasp the doorknob instead. Probably, it's locked, but--

When she turns at the sound of his voice, she turns pretty fast. "...Through the window?" she asks, a moment later, her hand finally withdrawing from the doorknob. From someone else it might be an accusation, but to judge by that look on her face... she's either trying really hard not to smile or trying really hard not to laugh.

Apparently the smile wins. She sighs, and shakes her head. "Good move, he's looking for you downstairs, you know. I'd try and stay out of his way for a while if I were you." She looks him over once, then over at the window, and crosses her arms over her chest. "I guess it's true about the more expensive places being better. I didn't even have a window to climb in through..."

Josie nods, her smile lopsided. "The same. And Penelope, too." The pigeon stirs, lifting her head to look at him. "She insisted on coming along, so I hope you don't mind~"

Unfolding her arms, she plants her left hand on her hip. "And, the interview. I figured now would be a good time to help promote my profession, right?" What with the festival and all. "Besides," she continues, her playful smile now completely echoed in her eyes, "I'm not in dire need of a light quite yet... and I bet the innkeeper'd be really put off if you kept farm animals in there."

She extends a hand towards him. "Shall we?"

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Well, y'know... I hear building scaling's a pretty popular pastime in Adlehyde, so I figured, 'why not?'"

It's not. But that easy, matter-of-fact confidence in Jude Moshe's tone is the kind that could convince a man the sky is green and the grass is blue.

If only it weren't for that joking twinkle that dances in those amber eyes, and at the corners of his lips, when Josie's smile finally wins out.

"Ah, he's still pissed, huh?" A grimace, however, soon wins out in the face of this news; the redhead rubs at the back of his neck with his right hand, heaving a helpless sigh into the air to echo Josie's lighter exhale. "Damn. Ah well -- sorta figured he would be. I'll just give 'em some more time, I'm sure cooler heads will prevail." Of that, he seems certain. Or, he just doesn't care. It's hard to say.

"Maybe I'll just get him a gift. I saw someone selling some taxidermy cuccos, maybe he's into that..."

Probably the latter, though.

Still, his smile is one of faint amusement as his hand finally drops back to his side, thumb hooking into the pocket of his pants. He makes his way to the door even as Josie speaks, lifting his free hand to wiggle fingers at Penelope one at a time in greeting. "Yeah, the ritzy places get you everything. Better scenery, nicer beds, friendly service--" he doesn't even blink at that "--more ways to sneak in without being noticed... ... really, it's kinda a security risk." He mulls over this for a few, scant seconds, before his shoulders roll in a shrug. "Oh well. That's the price of quality, I guess."

Eventually, he reaches the door. Leaning on the edge of it, his eyes fall briefly on Penelope, brows lifted. "Pretty pushy, huh?" he observes, voice light. "Don't worry -- wouldn't dream of separating you from your partner-in-crime."

The grin that follows is a friendly one, exposing pearly white teeth for a scant second before he takes that hand with all the gentlemanly grace in the world.

"Phew. Good. Let's get to it, then. And believe you me--

"--most reputable inns don't take kindly to people keeping animals bigger than a big dog in your room."

Spoken like someone with experience on the matter.

But, that hand taken with a firm but easy grip, Jude opens the door with nothing more than the twist of the knob. Already unlocked. The redheaded journalist brings Josie inside, and despite the sort of picture his earlier words might have painted about his living style--

--everything seems fairly neat and clean in the inn room. Spacious, with a nice window view of Adlehyde Castle beyond, the quarters seem scarcely used -- or maybe just fastidiously looked after.

All, except one little corner of the room where an oaken desk lies -- covered with a scattered mess of books, newspapers, and sheets of paper, some crumpled, some not, some with writing on them, some completely blank, and some just scribbled into frustrated oblivion. Too many cigarette butts to count line the top of that poor, manhandled desk, a glass and a half-empty bottle (surrounded by other, far emptier bottles) of Adlehyde's finest liquor decorating the corner of it.

And nearby, on a simple, wooden dresser, is probably the oddest sight of all: it looks like a sleeping bird, at first glance. Passable enough at a distance; but a closer, more careful look would reveal that bird is made of metal and gears instead of feathers and flesh. Some kind of statue?

"Feel free to make yourself at home, and we'll get right to working on that promotion." Jude looks aside to the desk. Tilts his head.

"... Huh. Looks cleaner than I thought it was."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

"Seems that way. I sure wouldn't go down there!" Josie says. "I guess the window's it for now." She pauses, thoughtfully, one hand resting on her chin. "Well, until he's got something else on his mind, I suppose?"

Only to have to cover her mouth with her hand as she struggles not to laugh, again, at Jude speculating presenting the innkeeper with a 'friendly gift'. Well. If ever she could wish to be a fly on the wall for just one moment, that one might be in the top 20.

Still, she manages to compose herself, if only by thinking of /not/ wanting to summon the innkeeper up here. Yet. "Hmm, seems I've been missing out," she remarks, sighing as if slighted by her time on this earth. Penelope, for her part, briefly squints at the waggling wave of fingers.

"Still, I suppose it all evens out in the end?" Josie muses aloud, as if weighing the pros and cons mentally before flashing Jude a bright grin. "All I really want is a bed -- by the time you've spent so much time out camping, you'd want one, too! Oh well, that's the life of an archaeologist..."

"Oh, she's always pushy. Or sulky. I'm pretty sure she'd have come in the window right after you if I'd left her behind," Josie comments, shaking her head.

"Don't I know it..." Josie murmurs as she takes his hand. Luckily, there are a lot of ways to sneak a bird in places. Jude meanwhile opens the door and head on inside. Oh, so it was unlocked after all.

She looks around the room, standing there just inside the door. Well, it puts her little cramped quarters to shame, but she had assumed that much already. What's actually surprising is--

Just how clean it is inside. Relatively. "Hard at work, I see," she comments, dark eyes resting on the quasi-disaster area of the desk region of the room. "But good taste!" Here, she gestures towards the bottles of liquor. "Another perk of your job, I guess? Maybe it's time to change careers..." Though that slight but practiced gaze up towards the heavens and that by-now-familiar lop-sided smile suggest she's not entirely serious about this proposition.

And then her attention falls on the bird. Josie blinks, takes one step forward only to stop again and stare at it. "A... What is that? Some sort of statue?" she asks without looking at Jude. She's fixated, that much is clear by the way she's shifted her weight, leaning forward a few scant degrees in space as if she could really get a better look at it from the spot she stands. She sees gears.

"Ah? Oh, yes," Josie responds, jolted as if suddenly returning to the here and now. "Do you mind if I sit?" She indicates the desk chair.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Probably would've helped her sneak in if it came down to it, to be honest."

Jude Moshe's look just bleeds silent, joking apology as he ushers Josephine into the inn room.

"Sorry, but I'd take her side every time when the chips are down. There's just no saying no to that face."

His sigh is, truly, as put upon as the weariest sighs from Atlas hefting the burden of the world on his shoulders.

But despite how defeated he makes himself look by his inevitable betrayal of Josephine for the sake of a pigeon, his hand is still sure as he guides her inside, and the sweeping gesture of the other just as confident. "It's no makeshift camp out in the middle of the sweltering desert, but I hope you enjoy your time here nonetheless, Ms. Josie," he asides, ever-so-humble, the hint of a lopsided smile gracing his lips as he kicks the door behind him -- left slightly ajar as his hand slips away from hers.

"Huh? Ah -- yeah. I've been trying to put an article together but it's not quite coming to me. I'm thinking I gotta get some more research done first, but... distractions, y'know?" These words come, off-handedly, as Jude shrugs out of that frock coat and sets about lighting lamps in the room with the flare of a match. As he circles about, he stops at that window, leaning down to pry the thing open with the faint hiss of wood on stone, ushering in the cool, soft gush of wind billowing in from the outside world.

"Those?" Jude asks, looking back towards the bottles. "Something like that. They're kinda like a gift. Just thanks to my natural charm, I suppose." Turning around to face Josie once more, hands crossing over his chest as he leans against the frame of the window. "Feel free to have some. I won't even charge you that much. God or gods or Guardians as my witness...es."

And here, he presses his hand over his heart.

The fact that he's very obviously crossing his fingers as he does it is something he pays no heed whatsoever, save for the relaxed amusement in his expression.

But then, Josie's attention falls on the bird. Jude watches with something close to quiet interest as his guest leans in, transfixed by the sight; it's very clearly man-made, but the design of it is seamless. Colorful, painstakingly put together, and well-cared for, if not for the exposed gears here and there, it'd look all too much like a real bird. Jude's head tilts. His right hand lifts--

--and with the snap of his fingers, that avian automaton jerks awake sudden lift of its head and shutter of lenses that make up its eyes, wings lifting and stretching to expose moving motors and hinges and bright, metal plumage.

"The chair's all yours. Be gentle with it, it's an antique, or so the owner keeps telling me," he says in lieu of anything about the bird as he pulls out a cigarette and strikes a match on the windowsill. The space around him illuminates briefly as he ignites the end of that stick on the dancing tongue of flame, shaking it out of existence a moment later. "Pretty sure that wood can't be anything more than a few years old, though."

Amber eyes look towards the mechanical bird again. He blinks, as if remembering its existence.

"Oh -- that's Jacob. Don't worry, he's harmless. ... Mmmost of the time." Promising words, only undercut by that little smile of his. "Jacob, this is Josie and Penelope. Josie and Penelope, this is Jacob."

Jacob, for its part, just tilts its head in a way that seems almost lifelike if not for how still the rest of its machine parts are.

"Ah, yeah -- how'd that thing, go? With that old friend? Everything work out for you?"

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

"Really? You'd pick her over me?" Josie almost looks hurt. Almost. The way she's failing to keep that pout entirely straight isn't helping her case. "Well," she says at some length, glancing over at Penelope, who has shifted to a more alert perch (probably because she's being discussed?), "I guess I can't blame you that much. She is pretty cute when she wants to be. I can think of worse things to be betrayed over."

She kind of can, actually.

It might all just be part of the act, but how could she not grin at a statement like that? "A fair sight better than the places I used to camp, I'd say. I could get used to this," Josie remarks.

She doesn't look back. But she also definitely doesn't hear the door swing shut.

She tilts her head to one side as she gazes upon the pile of discarded papers, a testament to hours of frustration and writer's block. "Well, I can't fault a little research. Or maybe a change of scenery? Sometimes I take a walk or go do something else when I can't quite get my head around something," she suggests, watching him a moment as he circles the room to light the lamps. He opens a window, and the brief shot of air as it first enters is enough to set a few strands curling out from her slowly unraveling braid aflutter for a moment.

"Or maybe I need to make new friends?" This is coupled with a hand resting on her cheek. "Well, maybe I'll take you up on it, if the price isn't too dear."

He's crossing his fingers in spite of his 'heartfelt' pledge and she can only grin in response.

"But later -- I don't think your readers are interested in a story about a drunk archaeologist." Josie pauses, as if considering this line of thinking and thus then shrugs, both palms turned upwards towards the heavens. "Well, alright, maybe some people would!"

It goes without saying that the 'statue' would have gotten her attention anyway. The visible clockwork was only the icing on the cake.

When it actually /moves/ though -- here she quite audibly gasps, clasping a hand over her mouth and straightening where she stands. Her eyes have gone wide, very much in the way of a person gripped by sudden terror if it weren't for... the quality of her staring. If she'd seemed intent before...

"Oh, it's precious!"

Forgetting about the chair for the moment, she approaches the mechanical bird perched on the table without any further hestitation. "--Oh, I mean he, I'm sorry! Jacob, is it? It's nice to meet you!" Already beginning to reach out a hand, she hesitates, glancing over at Jude. "Is he safe to touch?"

Because she did in fact parse that one thing he said. And because machines can be delicate, too.

There is a moment of silence.

"Oh... yes."

That.

"...We haven't spoken yet, actually. It's ah... well, you know," she semi-explains, gesturing vaguely with her left hand. "Like that." She doesn't look Jude in the eye, focusing instead on the bird, almost as if she were nervous rather than merely interested in the mechanical pigeon.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Wavering light dimly illuminates the room now, tongues of flame dancing within their glass prisons as they sparkle and shudder with heat. Jude stares at one of them, indistinct save for the brief, futile ripples for freedom within the opaque depths of the lamp.

'I can think of worse things to be betrayed over.'

"Amen to that."

Eventually, those amber eyes roll back towards Josephine; he can't help but scoff in amusement, just a bit, as she suggests a change of scenery, as if she just indulged him in a private joke of some kind. "Y'know, that's what I thought too," he mentions to her off-handedly; the casual ease of his words somewhat bely the content that comes next. "But last time I went out for a change of scenery, I ended up almost bleeding out dangling off the edge of a railway by a rope that had to be older than I am." A second passes. He sucks in some of that tobacco, billowing it out into the air in a thick cloud.

"... Was a so-so experience. Wouldn't recommend it."

He even handwobbles, for emphasis.

"Not without something hard to drink first."

Hence, perhaps, the liquor.

Is it all just a part of his act? Even now, the redhead doesn't seem to be dropping any facade, when it would be the perfect time to. He doesn't even seem particularly interested in asking after Lily and her unfortunately uptight boyfriend, instead just managing a laugh at the archaeologist's words as she makes her case about the drinks. "I think the popularity of my articles would go up in a heartbeat," he decides to add as his laughter fades, shaking his head and tapping the crumbling accumulation of ash on the end of his cigarette off against his window sill. "Don't worry though, I won't ask you to go out on the limb for me like that." His assurance is joking, his voice a pitch perfect amount of wryness as he brings his cigarette back to his lips.

"That kinda success is -way- more than I deserve."

"Anyway, I'd say you just need to start making the right friends. Maybe you just gotta improve your attitude a little."

That he can say this, straight-faced, to the ever charmingly-nonchalant Josie is a feat in and of itself. It's a poker face only marred at the very end of that statement, punctuated with an amused wink.

It's an amusement that fades for something else, though, when the archaeologist gasps and suddenly bolts upright at the sight of Jacob coming to life with the muffled click and whirr of gears within him. He blinks, almost pushes off the window -- but when he sees the way she stares, that blinking expression of confusion becomes something different. Brows soften indecipherably, his smile an inscrutable sort of thing as his amber eyes roll towards the ceiling, cigarette affixed to his lips. Precious.

"Yeah, Jacob is that."

Still -- the chuckle that follows in the wake of her apologies is one of casual entertainment reasserting itself as if it never left when Josie looks his way. He peers at her from the corner of his eyes. Squints. Looks to Jacob, currently hopping forward a fraction of an inch as he seems to stretch himself to wakeful, artificial life.

"Hmmm..." he wonders aloud. "Yep. I think he likes you. You oughta be safe, probably." A glint of roguish teasing flickers at his expression, at that. "Knock yourself out, Josie. Like 'em, huh?"

It's a question that's just as casual as that follow up to their conversation the other day; when silence dominates, he tilts his head... but doesn't break the quiet of his own accord. He simply waits, comfortably, until Josie speaks... and then gently knocks on the wall closest to her with a hand.

He doesn't say anything. Just points down at the cleaner-looking stacks of paper, and the pen, on that desk, and makes a little beckoning gesture with an expression custom-tailored to say 'please' without saying it.

Nervous. She's nervous. And without so much as touching on it, he quietly looks to allay those words with distraction. His hand gestures vaguely, a perfect mirror of her own.

"Like that. Yeah. Don't worry --

"I know."

Shoulders roll in a shrug, hapless and yet so utterly carefree, as if he could let the weight of the implications in Josie's tone roll right off him. "We've got more exciting things to be talking about anyway, yeah? How about we get started with that interview. Tell me a bit about yourself while I put my thoughts in order. Where are you from? How long have you been doing this? What got you into it? Stuff like that. Take your time."

A simple distraction -- just a simple, subtle way to ease that tension without calling attention to it.

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Now that earns not just a raised eyebrow but two raised eyebrows. "/Really/." She looks Jude up and down, as if inspecting him for lingering injuries. A normal person might seem shocked, but Josie's reaction is a little... different. "I'm a little impressed, actually! Well, and glad you're alright. Still, the most trouble I have out on a walk is running into someone I don't want to talk to... Perhaps you should stay away from railways?"

A pause. "But I'll keep that in mind if I ever have to almost bleed out." Her lips part slightly in a muted grin. "Have a stiff drink first."

Act or not is hard to tell -- the same could possibly refer to her. But perhaps people are as they are, and personality has no relation to morality at all. She for her part manages to look mock-offended for almost a moment before the inevitable smiles breaks out and her shoulders shake as if in contained silent laughter. "...Well, perhaps I'll take you up on it if I can get a cut?" She regards him intently for a moment, as if she really were considering it. "It might be fun! ...I'm not sure if there's enough liquor in town for that, though~" It could be a problem.

"Well, like I say, there's nothing wrong with a little self-improvement. Especially with that kind of gift on the line." She's not exactly great at keeping a straight face either, particularly when wearing a smile that might as well say 'oh you'.

Very carefully, Josie stretches out a gloved to just brush the side of Jacob's 'beak'. Gloves on means she can't really investigate the bird as much as she'd like, and she's not about to take them off in front of someone else without a really good reason. "Yeah, I do," Josie says, looking up at last from her bent-over sight investigation of the mechanical bird. "Did someone make him recently, or...?"

If looks could kill, Penelope's stare at Jacob right now would be a laser beam. The feathers on the back of the fancy pigeon's neck are nearly flared, as if she's intent on intimidating Jacob somehow. "Uh oh, guess someone's not a fan," Josie says, glancing over at her bird as she notices Trouble Brewing and takes a step back. Lifting a hand to just as carefully brush the top of Penelope's head, she murmurs to the live pigeon, "Well, I think you're great too."

It's an awkward, tense moment. How far will he push this topic, again?

And when he knocks the subject of her friend aside with a simple 'I know', it's as if the relief is palpable -- Josie visibly relaxes. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea." And that smile of hers is even almost a completely honest one.

Reaching up again for Penelope, Josie frowns slightly as if in concentration as she carefully strokes along the side of the bird's neck. "Well... let's see. Where to start... Well, Marze is where I was born, but..." Her brow knots. "I haven't been back there in some time -- if you're familiar with the place, I guess that's all you need to know, huh?" She smiles ruefully, as if at some distant memory.

"I got interested in history when I was still pretty young." She pauses, glancing up towards the ceiling as if some answer could be found there. "Actually, I'm not really sure 'why' anymore...? It seems like I've always been interested in it."

Josie shakes her head. "Well, anyway... I'd say I've been doing this for about a decade or so? I'd left town as soon as I came of age to study with a scholar and it turned out he was more archaeologist than historian -- there is a difference between those, you know!" Here she turns a pointed look towards Jude that might even be accusatory if it weren't for the teasing glint in her eyes.

Lightly, she clasps her hands together in front of herself. "So, I guess it's his fault!" She glances over at him again, and gives a likely now-familiar lopsided smile. "Archaeology isn't easy, you know. I think people think it looks easy -- you just dig a hole and cart things out, right? Well, if you do that, you'll just destroy the site. It's a shame. And on top of that, it's a lot of sleeping out in the wilderness, dealing with monsters and bandits, the occasional cave-in..." She ticks these various calamities off on her fingers, one by one.

"Still, there's that rush, when you really find something and you know it's important. It doesn't have to be big, even a few shards are fine. But it's just a little bit more of the past put back into place."

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

No obvious injuries on his person -- but when Jude feels thos eyes giving him a critical once over, he pats his left side with his free hand, right beneath his ribcage, with a deliberately play-acted wince, as if to indicate just where it happened.

"Y'know, I've been thinking that, too? But then I remember I'm incorrigibly lazy and..."

Jude just takes an indolent drag of his cigarette to end that sentence in a show of blithe resignation to his fate.

"Besides, knowing my luck, taking a walk outside would probably end up with me having an impromptu date with a sandworm. And have you seen one of those things before?" He sucks air through his teeth.

"They do not have a mouth made for kissing, I'll tell you that much."

But when Jude is done lamenting his sorry fate, he idly pushes himself up against that window sill. Too tall to really make a full perch of it, he sort of half-sprawls on the thing, his left leg dangling off the edge into the open air, the sole of his right planted up against the lacquered wooden finish of the sill. His brows loft to incredulous heights once he's settled and Josie starts asking for a cut for her potential drunken antics to become a matter of public record, as if aghast at the very idea (of giving her a cut). Eventually though, generous man that he is, he relents,

"Alright, how about 80-20? I mean, I -am- gonna be the one who'll have to provide you all your inspiration..." His brows scrunch, a patently shallow frown of thought creasing his lips.

"... apparently a whole town's worth of inspiration, at that. Huh." He tips his cigarette at her, as if in toast.

"You're one frightening woman, Miss Lovelace."

He says it like it's the sweetest compliment to ever be uttered, too.

As he ponders over just how deeply such circumstances like that might put him (more) in crippling(er) debt, he is content to let Josie examine the mechanical bird as she wills. So surprisingly lifelike for something made of nuts and bolts and powered, its head twitches errantly in the direction of the white-haired woman's gloved fingers as she inspects, reacting to rudimentary sensory input; that beak is smooth and polished metal, curved to a sharp point. Jacob's movements, though natural looking, ultimately seem fairly simple and streamlined, the 'eyes' that focus on Josie making soft whirring noises like a camera lens zooming in.

Jude only looks up at that question, his amber eyes trained less on Josie than on the puffed up ball of jealous wrath that has become Penelope. "I wouldn't say recently," Jude says off-handedly, his head tilted at the spectacle of the pigeon's ire. "... but I've been keeping Jacob there maintained and spry as they come for as long as I've had him. As long as I can remember, anyway... and I think Penelope is going to try to put that to the test pretty shortly."

He points, helpfully, dead center at the laser sight stare of the black-and-white bird just as Josie turns her attention to the poor pigeon. For Jacob's part, the automaton just hops to face Penelope when Josie goes to console her, facing the live pigeon with the steady clicking cant of its head and whirr of its mechanical eyes.

It's like some sort of terrifying and ridiculous bird staredown going on between the two of them.

It's telling in its own way, the way Josie seems to tense and relax on cue between the revisiting and departure of that one subject. The obvious answer to why is plain as day, of course -- the blood between the two is really just that bad. And Jude, at least, seems content to just leave it at that, more interested in taking a draw from his cigarette and puffing out rings of smoke into the air, keen eyes focused curiously on Josephine as she instead quite happily takes that olive branch of a change of subject. "Marze, huh," he muses to himself, that golden gaze rolling back towards the outside world to focus on it. He seems like he might have something to say... but instead just shakes his head. "Quaint place. I'm not really big on the rustic places usually, but it's a surprisingly good resource for Symbological research," he sees fit to say in lieu of whatever else. "It's kinda a tradition there, right?"

The cigarette burns slowly down towards a stub with every little ember-glowing flare of an inhale the redheaded journalist takes as Josie tells her story. For the most part, he remains silent to let her say her peace -- just sharing with her a sidelong glance and a grin of ineffably indolent nonchalance as she offers up a smile of her own.

"I've been on guard duty for a couple digs before," he confides when she's done. "It's a surprising amount of just... waiting, y'know? Waiting in a place far away from anywhere, to try to dig up something alone and forgotten and hope the bandits didn't get to it first. But sometimes..." He shakes his head. "Have you ever been to Guild Galad? Every time I'm there and see the Dragon graveyards, and everything they built off of it... it's humbling, in its own way. All because people are just stubborn enough to go after all that forgotten past."

He muses, for a moment, in idle silence. "I guess in its own way, you're making a story. You find these pieces, these shards, of a place time left behind... and you kinda try to connect the dots, right? I guess it's not that different from what I do, in the end. Put the pieces together... and assemble your narrative out of the building blocks you've got." He stares at that dwindling remnant of his cigarette, smoke trailing a slow and lazy path skyward.

"What'd you say your best story is then? I bet you've seen some mysteries out there, yeah?"

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

Can't blame a girl for trying.

"80-20? Hmmm..." Josie appears to consider this, going so far as to lift a hand to her chin as she gazes up towards the ceiling. "I'll think about it! If you're covering /all/ my drinks, it might be a fair trade, though..." Particularly, apparently, considering how much it might take her to get drunk in the first place. She shrugs dismissively, and shakes her head. "What can I say? There's not much to do after a dig but drink, some places."

It's as good a compliment as any. "Well, I try, you know," comes her response, coupled with a smile that's become downright saucy.

The mechanical bird, on the other hand, is nothing short of amazing. She can't do an indepth inspection -- or the inspection she'd really prefer (e.g. taking it apart) -- like this, right now, but it's beyond clear that whoever assembled Jacob was a master of their craft. "Even most machines don't move like this," she murmurs aloud, furrowing her brow in concentration as she peers closely at one of the machine's softly clicking eyes. Probably not recent at all. "Or at least, not the ones I've seen. ...You've been keeping him in good shape, though."

Maybe make that another step back. "Shh, that's enough," she continues to coo at Penelope, attempting to bring the riled-up pigeon to heel. "He's not going to bother you, so don't you bother him. Okay?" All the while, she gently smoothes at Penelope's feathers, attempting to reassure the bird.

It's quite slow, but eventually Penelope's feathers begin to relax, the pigeon easing out of 'attack' and into 'merely wary'. Her attention hasn't left Jacob, though.

"...I guess it's jealousy," Josie remarks at length, sighing.

Some topics, it seems, are best avoided. Whatever happened in the past /must/ have been bad. At least Jude's willing to drop the subject, and Josie, it seems, is more than willing to run with that--

There is a pause on her part, for just a moment. "Oh, have you been there...?" Josie glances over at him, watching him almost carefully this time. "Yes, that's right. There's a lot of people there who know at least a little Symbology." Her usual smile's gone just a little bit tight at the edges.

Once it comes to the topic of digging, though, that's a much less fraught area of topic apparently. "Hmm, I suppose it must be boring if you're just standing around though, right? I barely even notice the time, sometimes... well, unless it's getting to be around midday." As if remembering the trials of the Aveh desert, she stares into the middle distance with an air of mock-resigned horror. "What do they say, only madmen go out in the desert sun? It's probably right..."

Glancing over at him when he brings up Guild Galad, Josie crosses her arms over her chest as she redirects her attention somewhere nearer towards the floor, as if thinking. "...No, but I've heard a thing or two about it." She looks up at him, questioningly. "Is it true that they don't have horses? I heard something like that..." She trails off, looking away again. "...But I can understand that feeling."

Now it's her turn to be silent, gazing off at some point above his desk as she stands there, contemplating what he's just said.

"I hadn't thought of it like that," she says at some length, unfolding her arms, "But that's exactly right. It might not be the real story, but we're still giving it all we have, with what we have." She smiles, a bit wryly. "Sometimes 'close enough' is as good as we get."

"...But my best story, hm..."

Again, she crosses her arms over her chest, staring into the middle distance as she apparently considers this or that anecdote. After a few moments of this, she comes up with, "Well, there was the one time we found a whole bunch of bodies in one ruin. Or, what was left of them, anyway. At first we thought they might have been the original inhabitants, right? ...Well, turns out, it was an expedition crew, lost about twenty or so years ago. Poison gas trap, we think. Anyway, after we solved /that/ one we called it quits. Who knows what else was down there?" Josie chooses that moment to smile lopsidedly. "I guess it's not the most cheerful story! Still, ruins can be pretty dangerous. And, let's look on the bright side -- we solved /a/ mystery, right?"

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Yep. Jacob's a special little guy. He's more of a pain in the ass to upkeep than most ARMs I've tinkered with in my day but... he's worth all the headaches in the world."

It's a disconcertingly easy thing, sometimes, to get to know a person. Most of the time, all it really takes is questions and a friendly atmosphere. The way people react, or even don't react, to one question versus another can be a telling thing.

Perhaps it's a good thing, then, that Jude doesn't pry as much as he could when Josie grows tense, starts to hesitate -- starts to watch him with a more acute and cautious eye. Maybe it's a good thing he doesn't ask the question he could have asked. Instead, he just offers up that cool and indifferent sort of smile of his, so much more relax than the subtle tension that lines Josie's own as she asks that trailing question.

"Once or twice," he answers, the words modest even if it doesn't carry into the smooth ease of his tone. "I kinda dabble in Symbology, I guess. I heard there were a couple big wigs there, so I went to check it out for a story -- personal interest, or something like that, but you can get some good material just chasing after your passing fancies sometimes." He inspects his cigarette, nothing more than a dimly glowing half-inch left to it, and sighs half-heartedly before stubbing it out on the cool surface of the window sill.

"No offense, but I don't think I could live in a place like that. Good on you for getting out there and spreading your wings. There's some real accomplished families there and everything, don't get me wrong, but..." His eyes slide out once more towards the view of that castle in the distance, brows furrowing as a thoughtful frown creases his lips. "... that kinda accomplishment always comes with the sort of expectations I just don't play well with."

Eventually, an ambivalent shrug rolls over Jude's shoulders. He sticks one fingerless gloved hand into his pants pocket as he talks, happy enough to glide effortlessly towards other subjects. "That's the job though, most of the time, y'know? I take oddjobs like that, usually bodyguard work to keep an eye on a dig site or whatever, and most of the time nothing comes of it except a lot of sand getting in places sand has no right being." He glances towards the moons hanging in the sky, distant amusement in his gaze. "And lord knows most of the workers don't want you getting anywhere near the actual dig site. It's a killjoy." A pause. His grin is lopsidedly apologetic. "Sorry."

A brief, underhanded toss -- and a crumpled carton of cigarettes lands on the desk next to Josephine, to take if she might want.

"Mad to go out in the desert sun, madder to stay through the desert night." No light, though fortunately there are some matches nearby.

After all, like he said -- he can't rightly offer her a light without the appropriate gear.

"I swear, a day in the desert is like taking a tour through hell's greatest hits."

Leaning back once more with the creak of wood beneath him with that cigarette pack delivered, Jude crosses his arms amiably over his chest, amber eyes drifting back towards Josephine as she talks. "They have horses, but they don't need to use them. There's something there called an automobile. It's like a caravan that can move without the horse to pull it. Uses a kind of combustion engine, like trains. They're faster but have a harder time in difficult terrain unless you have a specialized vehicle built for them, so paved roads connecting city to city is a bit more common. It sure as hell makes a lot of things different over there." He smiles to himself, shaking his head. "One little invention having that much change. Crazy, isn't it?"

But soon, the man quiets, listening to Josephine as she relates her anecdote. His hands lift to lock behind the back of his head, brows lifting in tandem. "Well, that's harrowing," he remarks in that glib way of his, wry amusement tinging his expression just slightly as his head cocks to the right. "That's one damn cautionary tale right there. Guess you guys played it smart, called it quits before you bit off more than you could chew. Still -- wonder if there were other expeditions who saw those corpses, and just decided to plunge deeper regardless, only to become part of the dig for the next expedition to find." He smiles in return, at that morbid humor. "Guess that's one way to become a part of history."

Head leaning back into the window sill as those last words escape him, Jude seems to consider for a moment before he speaks up again. "So, you kinda fell into archaeology. Did you have anything else you really wanted to do? Symbology, or something? Or did this all just kinda click into place and before you were nothing more than an aimless drifter, wandering the barren wastelands in search of your fate?" And, realizing this sounds perhaps a bit flowery, he helpfully adds with a nonchalant grin, "Or whatever."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

It's a really good thing, in fact. She notices in her own way that he's not following up, that as with the subject of her 'old colleague' he's backing off on the topic -- even though he totally could come in and ask any pointed question he wanted, especially since he's /been in town/ and might just have...

But the past is a foreign country, and one she's not keen on revisiting any time soon, if ever. If he has his reasons for not going direct to the source on this one, she's not going to complain.

"A dabbler, huh?" Josie says, craning her head to look over at him. "Wonder how that went over, back home... well, I don't really care about it." Looking away from him and at the wall, she folds her arms over her chest. "Something like that," she says, a lopsided smile on her lips. "It's the kind of town that once you leave, there's not much point going back. The rest of the world's so much bigger, and I have too much of it left to see. You've seen it -- you understand, right?"

The vaguely expression of amusement -- sparkle in the eye and everything -- shines through even as Jude explains how difficult the guard job can be. "Heh heh, sounds about right. I guess we can't help it -- some people have sticky fingers, so trust's a little hard in our line of work, you know." Her gaze shifts from him and out towards the expanse of night over Adlehyde's rooftops. "People will pinch anything if they think they can sell it. Still, it must be a drag, huh?"

Casting a look over at Penelope, Josie darts in to pluck a cigarette from the package. And the matchbook, for good measure. Despite being apparently left-handed, she strikes the match with her right hand, before tossing the matchbook back at the desk once everything's lit up and burning properly. It's no cigar but it'll suit her just fine. "Thanks," she says, moving over to lean against the wall (on the side furthest from Jacob, since she'll be darned if she has to break up some weird pigeon jealousy deathmatch) before taking a drag.

"Damned either way. Sounds about right," she comments at length, smiling in spite of the memories of the deathtrap that is Aveh's desert. "Still, those were some of the best years of my life. Living in hell isn't too bad, once you get used to it."

Silent -- and focused on getting the most out of her cigarette while she listens -- Josie is content to let him talk about Guild Galad's strange technology. "Automobile, huh..." she says, at some length. "I'm familiar with machines, but not something like that. Heh, sure seems that way. That's how technology seems to go, though. At one point in the past, ARMs weren't common, either."

Josie shrugs, almost apologetically, cigarette dangling from the gloved fingers of her left hand. "It's not the most exciting story, or even the most interesting story -- unless you've got a particular kind of audience -- but that's the kind of thing that sticks with you when you're in the field. Fortune favors the bold, they say, but..." Closing her eyes, she shakes her head as she lets out a dry chuckle. "Well, dead is dead. I like my work, but not enough to become part of it."

Here again, Josie glances up towards the ceiling, apparently thinking. Smoke continues to trail upwards -- hopefully the innkeep won't mind the smoke damage. "Hmm... I don't think so. I mean, I'm pretty sure I wanted to own a pony ranch at one point when I was a little girl, but that's not what you mean, right? I've always been pretty sure about what I wanted out of life." A pause. "Well, until recently, I suppose. But that's part of why I'm out here."

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

It's not a cigar, but the smoky flow of tobacco might still be a familiar comfort -- though perhaps not entirely so, when that cooling sensation tickles at the throat all the way down to the lungs. The effect of menthol making itself known in its subtle ways.

"They loved having me around snooping around through all their stuff," Jude Moshe declares matter-of-factly about the denizens of Marze, so utterly sincere despite the absurd contrast it creates with the content of his words. "They loved me so much they were excited to get me out of the village and traveling abroad to really start honing my talents as quickly as possible. Hospitable people." A wistful sigh heaves softly from his lips.

"Those sure were some fond memories."

It's all sold completely straightfaced -- save for the conspiratorial look in his eyes. Like someone sharing a secret joke that's not so secret, with someone who probably understands it so much better than most.

Perhaps thankfully, Jacob doesn't seem particularly intent on poking the sleeping tiger (bird) metaphorically speaking, just keeping a healthy distance on the other side of the room with the occasionally twitch of his head one way or the other -- as if keeping up with the conversation being held. Moonlight reflects dimly off his polished surface as Jude snorts out a brief chuckle for Josie's consolation. "It's the smart play," he assures her simply. "I know I wouldn't trust me to linger around a dig site, no matter how much of a gentleman I might be." He tilts his yellowish eyes down towards his companion, glinting in idle amusement. "Still. Total killjoy. Don't worry, though. They're not the worst kinds of jobs I've ever had to field." He waits exactly two beats.

"Just maybe in the top ten."

Fingers tipping against his forehead in a jaunty little salute of recognition as Josie offers her gratitude, Jude's gaze drifts across the room almost aimlessly as she speaks again, distant, if but for a moment.

Living in hell isn't too bad, once you get used to it.

His eyes focus on Jacob, watching the way the world reflects off his metallic wings.

"It can get real cozy, if you let it. Like the home away from home you never knew you had."

His words are easy and joking -- and soon coupled with a wry little smile.

"Or maybe we just belong out there. That's a scary thought, huh?"

After all, that desert is assuredly unforgiving.

"It's a good story. Maybe it'll remind some of my readers not to just charge off half-cocked into the first crumbling ruins they find." He seems to consider this for a moment, chewing at the inside of his cheek. His brows furrow. "... or maybe it'll just encourage them to do that."

And here, his hands just lift helplessly. A little 'what can you do?' kind of gesture.

"Some people have more adventurousness than sense. Me? I'm pretty happy with living. I'd like to keep doing it for a while."

Really, at this point -- smoke damage, at least, is probably the least of the innkeeper's worries. And it seems to be far from Jude's own as that smoky haze starts to fill the room with the clinging smell of tobacco, the open window only doing so much as his brows lift. "Hey, you never know. You could've become a very successful pony baron if you stuck to your guns. And now you're going to forever regret the day you let your childhood dream slip through your fingers like all the grains of sand in the Aveh desert." Here, he clucks his tongue, more teasing than chiding. It's a lazy kind of amusement that dwindles away in favor of curiosity, though, at those next uttered words. Amber eyes close in a curious blink; Jude's head tilts with all the owlish fascination in the world.

"Huh. Y'know, that actually feeds into my next question. Archaeologist like you coming out to an event like this isn't that big a surprise, really, but I wasn't sure if you had anything to show off for it or not. I tried looking into it a bit but..." He shrugs, blithely indifferent to the errant prying his investigating might be construed for. It's his job, after all. Right? "Is there something you're looking to get out of this exhibition?" A gloved hand lifts, pressing into the back of his neck to rub there in an affable little gesture.

"Or should I consider it one of the great enigmas of the mysterious match woman?"

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

...Menthol? She lifts one snowy eyebrow. Josie wouldn't have thought him the type. Well, beggars can't be choosers.

It's said straight-faced enough -- so it falls to Josie to provide the requisite spreading grin and the brief bark of a laugh. "Sounds about right!" she declares, very briefly and very slightly shaking her head as she sinks back against the wall. "As far away from Marze as possible, I'm sure."

Jacob's making some attempt to keep the peace. While Penelope doesn't dare launch an advance strike, she's definitely watching the metal bird intently from the safety of Josie's left shoulder. Just once, the bird shifts its wings, as if in irritation.

She lets out an overly-weary sigh, shaking her head. "I'll keep that in mind if I ever hire you to come along on an expedition, you know." She gestures, stretching her arms out wide as if making an entreaty to the heavens. "'This one is not to be trusted!' So, I'm definitely making you keep watch as far as possible from the site." She winks. "Just a friendly warning." Settling back, she still can't help but muse aloud, "So, which one was number one? Or is that one a secret?"

Like the home away from home... Josie exhales a cloud of smoke, tilting her head back against the wall as she watches it rise towards the ceiling. "Don't I know it..." Josie murmurs aloud, her gaze momentarily heavy-lidded.

"Maybe so. Well, I suppose home is where the hearth is, and all that. At least this way we don't have to worry about never belonging anywhere, right?" And she smiles, brightly even, in spite of the heavy nature of the commentary.

The desert is quite scary. As are ruins, as Josie's story suggests. "Well," she considers after a few moments, tilting her head slightly to the right, "At that point? You did warn them. There's not much helping fools, I suppose." Smiling ruefully, she shakes her head.

The air is getting a little thick in here. Josie's had worse, but still briefly wafts a hand in front of her face to try to get the air moving a little. "Hmm, when you put it like that, maybe I do regret it, a little bit?" She appears to consider the matter seriously for a moment or two, then briefly grins. "Hey, if I ever get tired or running around in ruins, maybe I'll see if I can get some land somewhere and start that farm. It's never too late for anything, you know?" It honestly might be hard to tell if she's actually kidding or if she really means it.

Or if the answer would be 'both'.

Her attention slides towards him, as he remarks that she's not exactly displaying anything at the festival. "Hmm..." Crossing her arms over her chest, her left hand dangling free with the smoldering cigarette hanging on between two fingers, she appears to give this question due consideration. "Just poking around into a girl's private business, huh? Well, I should have expected that, honestly." She leans her head back, her gaze turning up towards the smoky ceiling. "Well, I can tell you, but it's strictly off the record. Okay?" She means it, or so speaks the line of steel undercutting that simple one-word question of confirmation.

"I guess the truth is, I didn't actually come here for the exhibition. I was hoping to meet up with my colleagues. I have something I need to talk to them about."

This is, for once, actually not a lie.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Dire warnings delivered with a wink, Jude Moshe's hands instantly raise, palms forward, in a gesture of utter, defeated surrender. His head even hangs with the effort, dark, rusty red bangs spilling messily with the helpful hand of gravity upon them. "Ouch. I sure blew it this time, huh?"

Despite his lamentations, the hint of a grin and an entertained flash of white teeth can be seen past that veil of deep red.

"Guess I'm just gonna have to do my best to win back your favor."

It's an act of mock contrition that dims only slightly when that question is posed into the soft smoky haze of the air, So, which one was number one?

He pauses, for a moment. And then just shakes his head, flopping backwards into the frame of the window again in a way that would be completely too dangerous if he wasn't so passively assured of the movement.

"... One of life's little secrets, but it's definitely a doozy," he confides, with an apologetic smile, before his attention focuses towards the ceiling. "And I wouldn't want to ruin the mood." He considers for a moment, before deciding, simply,

"Maybe if you play your cards right though, I'll tell you about it some day."

It's a sort of glibness that carries well into discussions about whether one belongs in eternal damnation or not; one that couples with the indifferently way Jude laces his fingers into each other and stretches his arms out in front of him, knuckles cracking as he manages one of those effortlessly rakish smiles of his. "Right you are! It's good to know what your place in the world is. Knowing it's in a sandy hell you'll never escape from's better than having no place at all." His stare, apathetic, turns up towards the wooden border of the window above him, feeling the cool air contrasting with the warmth of the room on the other side of that border. He sucks in a breath of air.

"So here's to knowing just the kinds of hells we're in for."

And he even manages to look down and offer a simple wink.

"I don't know about that," continues Jude as the subject moves towards pony farms, injecting a helpfully and jokingly bleak outlook on the situation with that patentedly casual blithenes. "Viable pony land is dwindling away by the year. I read a study," no he didn't, "that said ideal conditions for a thriving pony ranch exist in only 12% of the entire landmass of Ignas," no it didn't, "and that number is shrinking by at least 2% a year," no it isn't, "so pony land is at a real premium and it's only gonna get worse. At this rate, you're probably looking at the lonely life of a mule herder."

A second passes. His eyes roll upward, brows scrunching in thought.

"... in which case, mind if I borrow a mule from you when that happens? I need it for something. Unrelated."

And here is the expectant flash of a smile.

Hands lift, palms up towards the heavens, in a way utterly hapless and defiant of accepting any responsibility as Josephine calls Jude out. "I promise I poked around in the most gentlemanly way possible," he affords simply before he brings one of those hands to his forehead in a vain attempt to push back some of those unruly bangs. It's a futile endeavor that pauses, though, when she makes that request; Jude blinks, brows lifting a fraction of an inch.

"Okay," he concedes, voice losing that carefree edge for something more rare from him: professional neutrality. "Not a peep to the papers, you've got my word. My lips? Sealed."

The truth, then. It's one that makes his brows furrow inward towards their center, knotting in vague contemplation. "... this have something to do with your out-of-touch peer, then?" he wonders aloud. "I think I see. Now's probably the best time to be in Adlehyde if you want to track down people who can answer questions to problems of a certain nature. It's hard enough finding experts of fields most people don't even know exist -- you're never going to have a better opportunity to find a gathering rife with the masters of esoterica than right now."

He considers a moment. And then he asks, simply:

"Now I'm kinda curious -- what's this something?"

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

One white eyebrow lifts. "Why, so you can sneak a few things out from the dig site after all? I'm on to you, mister!" Unlike Jude, she apparently can't keep her mirth contained for long when making a dire pronouncement like that one. It's not even that she winks or smiles -- Josie outright breaks into a brief chuckle which dies down only as she shakes her head.

A normal person might have called out in alarm as Jude flops backwards into the frame. Josie doesn't as much as twitch, either similarly assured of Jude's continued survival, or... possibly just not even worried about him. Either/or?

"Hmm..." Tapping a forefinger against the wall momentarily, she appears to consider that statement of his. Everyone's got their secrets, to paraphrase a certain young girl she met once. "...Well, you sure know how to intrigue a girl. Maybe I'll get lucky, huh?" She takes another drag of her cigarette, as if to punctuate her thoughts.

"Well, even a sandy hell can be homey, with the right embellishments. Have you ever tried putting a rug down?" She's being overly glib, even for her; it's a tone of voice that doesn't entirely match her heavy-lidded gaze towards the flooring.

Penelope picks this moment to take off and glide down towards the floor. Possibly it's getting a little too hazy for the bird up here; Josephine watches her in silence for a few moments. "Well, like they say, 'better the devil you know'," she says, eventually, still tracking the bird as she trots along the floorboards.

"Did you, now?" It's the sort of tone that suggests that, no, she probably isn't buying a word of this, but is completely fine with playing along. "That's a shame, I guess there can be such a thing as being too late for your childhood dreams, huh?" She definitely can't keep a straight face here, either. Even while pretending to take a pensive drag of a cigarette, she fails the pensive part entirely. "Well, I suppose it'll be the mule herder life for me when I retire -- I don't suppose this article of yours said what the going rate for herdland access was?"

He asks to borrow a theoretic mule someday. A beat passes before she laughs, breaking into a grin of her own. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Even here, as he professes his sins of digging around in her past, Josie smiles unevenly. "I'm sure you did. Now, maybe I'd ask you what you even found out, but..." She shrugs, unfolding her arms to turn both hands palms-up.

This is approximately the moment where she asks to go off-record.

"That's the long and short of it. Only, I'm having a few second thoughts about that colleague..." She trails off, glancing away meaningfully as she does so. "Someone else might know something, but if this is big -- and it might be -- I also don't want it getting out."

There could be problems from that.

Now there's a wry smile. "Well, that's just the problem, isn't it? I have no idea."

A pause, and, "Oh, and I don't have it on me at the moment, so I wouldn't bother asking. All I can tell is that it's old, small, metal, and nothing I've ever seen before or even read about."

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

"Damn, not one for second chances, are you?"

The question comes, full of lamentation, at the tail end of Josie's accusations. She breaks down into that chuckle, and Jude Moshe just rubs his forehead in vain. "You are stone cold," he declares, amidst her warm mirth.

Truly.

Maybe she'll get lucky, she wonders, and Jude's only true response is the ghost of a smile, like a noncommittal, nonverbal 'maybe.'

"What can I say? When you live a life traveling a world like this, you see some weird shit."

Eventually, gloved hands fall back towards the redhead's sides; one dangles, fingers scraping against the outer wall of the inn as he looks, for a brief, contemplative moment, at Josephine's floorward stare. He smiles, a dry thing despite himself.

"Redecorations, huh? Might be just what I need. Maybe I'll try that rug out some day." Words no less airy, joined up with a stare no less thoughtful as it turns towards the messy stacks of papers on that poor, abused desk.

It's a striking contrast to the sheer solemnity of his nod as he dips his head in affirmation to Josie -- whether to her words, or to her incredulous tone, meanwhile, is something of an open question. "Just the kind of unforgiving world we live in, I'm afraid," he remarks, before scratching his chin. "If I remember right, it was a little cheaper than pony land, at about roughly 'more than most'll ever make in their whole lifetime' -- give or take a lifetime."

His tone, and expression, are truly grave -- but his poker face breaks, if only for a moment, if only for the brief ghost of a grin when Josie breaks down into laughter. His laughter joins hers, easy-going and brief as he raises a knee to rest his arms along it. "Sorry, sorry," he offers unapologetically, "guess it's just my nature."

He quiets soon enough, though, as Josephine (vaguely) details her situation -- not that he expected anything less from the archaeologist, even as she proclaims she hasn't the foggiest just what her problem really is. "Well, that sure as hell does sound like a problem," is the first thing he says, before his brows furrow faintly in thought at her description. Old, small, metal, and...

"Huh," he utters, in an expert summation of the situation. A second passes.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on pinching it." Just in case she was concerned.

"Sounds like more of a headache than it's worth."

... That he proclaims this as his only reason is only offset by the joking tone in his voice.

Still -- eventually, Jude rolls off that window sill, landing on his feet in the smoky haze of the inn room as he stretches arms up over his head. He blinks, and looks down at Penelope, offering a smile apologetic, perhaps, for the cigarette smoke now wafting pungently in the room. "Looks like you could use some air," he notes, though whether to the bird or her owner is an open question.

"I think that's all the questions I need for now, though. But..." He pauses here, considering for a moment, before his shoulders lift in an easy, nonchalant motion.

"... if you need help poking around about that thing you've got on you, let me know. I know some people. I'm sure you've got all your contacts in the archaeologist world and all, but it never hurts to cover your bases, right?" A friendly smile slips its way across his lips, his head shaking easily. "Well, think about it. I'll even give you my Friends & Family discount rate." Just in case there's any question what's in it for him other than warming the cockles of his heart. He pauses. That smile becomes a lopsidedly hapless thing.

"Least I can do, after you went through the trouble of giving my message to Ms. Keil and all. Thanks for that -- figured they deserved a head's up."

<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.

"Can't be too careful," Josie says lightly, as Jude playfully accuses her of being 'stone cold'. "You know how it is. Fool me once..."

She trails off, finishing the reference to the old saying with a shrug. What can you do?

Penelope shifts, the pressure on Josie shoulder changing. Normally the bird's pretty content to stay put, so this suggests she's getting a bit agitated. Or restless. Or actually managing boredom. Josie meanwhile glances up, looking over at Jude. "Well, it's like they say. When in doubt, make the best of what you have. Or maybe just pretty things up a little bit?"

Either/or.

The sorry topic of pony and mule lands in Ignas is another story. "More than most people'll make in their lifetime? Hmm, now that's a problem right there," she muses aloud, in the middle of what is without a doubt the least-convincing attempt at affecting serious consideration of a topic to date.

She's got nothing but a warm but knowing smile for him here. "Sometimes we just can't help ourselves, right?"

Speaking of not being able to help herself -- now this is a /gamble/. And speaking of not being able to help /himself/, Josie mock-rolls her eyes when he says he wasn't going to steal it. "You realize you'd top the list if it did vanish now, right~?" Her voice trails off into sing-song. Vaguely, distantly threatening sing-song.

Her gaze returns to her now way-ward bird. "She doesn't like it much when I smoke. I was a little surprised she put up with it this time. I think it bothers birds more than people... oh well." Reaching for the ashtray -- wherever it might be lingering -- Josie peels away from the wall to snuff out what remains of her cigarette and follows after Penelope, who does her best to book it. "C'mere, you."

Lifting the slightly squirmy bird -- who loses a few feathers for her trouble -- Josie glances over at Jude. "So that's everything? Good, I was thinking I probably could use a break at this point." This smile's mock-self-deprecating. "You know, I think this is the first time someone's ever asked me my life story. Guess there really is a first time for everything!" And the smile that follows is actually, genuinely honest. "Thanks, it was kind of fun."

He knows some people? Josie furrows her brow thoughtfully. "Hmm. I'll think about it! Maybe if I keep coming up empty?" Penelope choose that moment to finally settle on Josie's right forearm. This earns the pigeon a faint wince. "As long as you can keep it a secret and the discount rate isn't too bad, anyway." She shrugs, slightly. "Well, I'll be in touch." With that, Josephine turns to head on out for the night.

That's... a surprise, actually. Josie pauses midstride, halfway turning to look back at Jude over her shoulder before catching herself. "Oh, did you? Sorry for not passing word along -- things got a little busy. Hopefully, things were well with the two of them!"

Hopefully, they're both alive, but there's very little sense fussing about that, especially right now. It's completely out of her hands.

Waving one hand overhead in a sort of farewell, Josie heads for the door. She'll even close it behind her.