2017-04-18: A Credit Line of Faith
- Log: A Credit Line of Faith
- Cast: Cassidy Cain, Bartholomew Fatima
- Where: The Starfall Saloon, Adlehyde
- Date: April 18, 2017
- Summary: Sand Pirate Bartholomew Fatima finally secures a meeting with Cassidy Cain, who comes highly recommended by persons unknown to the woman herself (but who she suspects has some vested interest in making her life difficult by pointing the attention of the Yggdrasil Alliance to her direction). Despite clear differences in life philosophies, urgent business speaks louder than gella, and Bart drops the proverbial bomb in her lap as he launches her in the path of what could possibly be one of the biggest scores of her life.
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
So the last time, Bart figured 'hey lets do this in some other bar and that'll be fine' and then there was a bar fight and it totally did not work out. That had been LESS THAN PLEASING thanks to everything that had followed from that and Bart had a splitting headache for a day or two. Given that a lesser man without as hard a head might have died, it was pretty much par for the course.
He figured he was gonna do it in a more familiar place that was much less prone to bar fights this time, and maybe that might go better.
Bart is kicked back in his favorite corner of the Starfall Saloon, where he generally meets people while not drawing too much attention to himself. The fact that it's in the corner that's right by all the wanted posters is immaterial, because SOMEONE, probably not a dashing, handsome one eyed rogue BUT YOU NEVER KNOW, has defaced most of the wanted posters and the fact that an unfriendly pirate has claimed the corner means that it's difficult to replace them with fresh copies.
He's also got some finger foods laid out, as well as a bottle of (decent) wine from the Bledavik area and a couple glasses. Bart believes in feeding people he might recruit, and thus he waits.
Impatiently. He's already eaten a few of the snacks.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Unlike a certain pirate that is most definitely not causing trouble in Ignas for the glory of Aveh, Cassidy Cain has been busy elsewhere 'sending a message'.
At least, that was the explanation she had provided her partner and traveling correspondent, Jude Moshe, before she left Adlehyde and had vanished for a little over a week, though God only knows just how many days it actually takes to send a note, unless it actually wasn't a note. Somewhere in the long stretch of blue, clear river that cuts through canyons of striated, red-and-pink rock, is a riverboat casino making its new home at the bottom of its currents, bow and stern twisted up along with the remains of a pair of ruined storage compartments from a train that was scheduled to arrive in Lacour a week or so ago. The fact that both vehicles have met the same end in the same place by the machinations of the same person might even be called serendipitous if not for the fact that rumors have it that Luck has a strange, mysterious hold on the blonde in question. Honestly, this is probably just how her life rolls, with all of the ridiculousness and absurdity that have decided to strap onto it as eager passengers.
When she arrives, she cuts a tall, slender figure with an easy gait and a languid smile, though she is not intact - there is a fresh injury on her right hand, bandaged with blood flecking the center of her palm. Long-legged strides cut through the common room, glade-green eyes sweeping appreciatively over the spread, as well as the label situated on the wine bottle. Bledavik? Fancy.
"For a pirate, you've got some serious chops for networking, luv," she says in lieu of a typical greeting, easing into the chair near Bart and sinking into it, making herself comfortable on a chair that looks anything but - wood doesn't have much give. "Methinks the two of us are looking better than the last time we saw one another. That second bar really did a number on my arm, broke it, y'ken."
It wasn't broken. But the incident made the story that follows after more convincing, when she was busy swindling a bandit gang to hit the train that she knew was being targetted by yet another gang, leaving irresponsible amounts of valuables at the bottom of the Blue.
But that's a story for later.
"How are tricks?"
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
"Well, it's not every day some beastman throws a whole bar at me, so I can say that the event certainly made an impression," Bart comments after a moment. He grins, leaning back in his chair as he listens to the whole 'broken' argument. "Sorry to hear about the break, although looks like the healers managed to get it taken care of in good time. Bone injuries like that are always difficult."
He isn't sure he believes it, because he's *seen* enough broken bones in his time. But it could be the truth, and he's not gonna call her on it, especially for an interview.
Especially for this interview. Heh.
"But I lived, you lived, and we're both doing alright from the looks of things. I've got my supply situation handled, so now it's more about going out and getting the rest of my errands out here taken care of." Bart is well aware that he is fairly safe here in Adelhyde, but he needs to get back to his main job of exploding Shakhan's military at some point. Lest he start getting comfortable and thinking the righteous hammer of justice wasn't coming down on his bald pate at some point.
"Anyways, wine?" he asks, holding up a bottle? He pours himself a glass, before doing the same and sliding it across the table to Cassidy. "Not a bad bottle, although I can't tell the okay stuff from the good stuff. Not like we get a lot out in the desert." He tips back his glass, taking a long pull before setting it on the table.
"So on to business. I'm looking for a few good men and women to help me out here in Adelhyde and elsewhere. Pay is negotiable, work is dangerous, rewards are substantial."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
That formerly broken arm drapes casually on the back of her chair; her blonde head tips in an incline towards Bart when he pours her a glass like a gentleman should, before plucking the glass with her fingers. Cassidy brings it to her nose to inhale the bouquet, before taking an experimental sip. The confession about not being able to tell the good stuff from the bad earns him a laugh. "Life's too short tae be that picky," she tells him, good humor brimming in those gold-flecked green eyes. "If it tastes alright and gets you drunk, I dinnae see anything wrong with it, whether cheap or expensive. Not tae say there are nae certain advantages in knowing the difference." There are, but considering her profession, it isn't surprising - the art of the swindle requires someone to be tremenduously convincing, and even just sounding like a credible source can push the envelope farther than anyone expects.
"Sounds like a busy time. I can understand why you would approach Morgan, having someone on the inside in the Guild's advantageous...that and I have it on good authority that he's trying for Guildmaster, though we'll see how that goes. He basically spent the last few weeks trying tae ferret out just who's been stealing from a longtime patron. Squaring off that business should give him a good footing there."
She says nothing about her own involvement in that affair, considering she had been thrown in without any prior negotiations. She had made Morgan pay for that, but the gamble might yield more significant fruit, after all, if the fox man gets what he wants.
"The wine's good," she says, taking another sip and savoring it. "You'll nae go wrong with it, methinks."
Once the pitch comes rolling out, she inspects the color of the vintage with a critical eye; underneath the warm golden glow of the Saloon's lamps, it takes on the hue of dark blood, spilled from the veins rather than the arteries. "Pay better be negotiable," she says, a quip more than anything, earning the displaced royal a laugh as she leans on the chair. "Though these days I hardly blink at dangerous work. Given the right impetus, I can cause a significant amount of damage just working on my own. But I'd like tae know more about one..." She lifts a finger. "Said substantial rewards, and two, why you'd want a...specialist. Though I suppose you need all kinds. That would dip into the kind of operations you're intend tae take."
She takes another pull of her wine. "Which of course directly connects itself tae the cause. Yours, tae be more specific. I'm sure you've got plenty already who are assured enough of the pay, the excitement and the reward, but I'm nae like others. I would nae be as effective as I am if I dinnae understand people, y'ken. So what is it, luv? And dinnae tell me fortune and glory. I know those types and, while I'm guessing, here, something tells me you're nae it."
Considering the fact that his alliance seems to target some very specific locations and holdings.
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
Heh, so it seemed that she was as articulate as he would have expected, knowing Cass' reputation. Bart wasn't going to show off his own eloquence in return, however - probably because given his reputation he doesn't really have any. Why bother to beat around the bush when you can just burn the bush down and then step on the snake when it pops its head out?
"To be honest, I like to speak to all types - didn't really have a good feel for that Morgan fellow, although seems like he might be someone to approach again at some point just to see if he's interested in working with me," Bart comments, swirling his glass of wine around for a moment. He takes another sip, and then refills his glass. This much isn't enough to even get him buzzed, not after some of his nights drinking with the men.
PIRATES.
Bart swears. Mentally at least.
"We're not exactly a charity, y'know," Bart comments with an absent grin, leaning forward across the table and looking at Cass. "And while I've heard your work is good, pirates tend to work off of loot rather than providing having a paymaster and forking over cold hard cash every month." That was not at all true in his case, but he's curious to see how much the woman actually knows about his organization. The Yggdrasil Pirates are well known, but the inner workings are rather obscure to those who don't have an inside view of the situation. "Your share of any jobs you were involved in would be commensurate with your contribution, and everyone receives at least one share from all of our work to make sure the wine and women are still available."
But Bart smiles, and leans a little closer to Cassidy. "But as for what I'm looking for... well, I'm sure you've probably done your research, so I figure you realize that I'm not a man who is generally considered to employ such soft and subtle arts as stealth, connivery, misdirection, and carefully guided chaos in my arsenal. However, I AM a Captain, which means when I want something done I can't do myself, I can always hire someone to do it for me."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
She is, at the end of the day, a confidence woman, and one cannot be skilled in the game if she didn't have a hefty arsenal of words as well as the brain to put them together in ways to achieve a specific end. If Bart finds her eloquent, he is simply glimpsing the barebones foundation of her nature and her work; her talent for wordplay is nothing that she hides, but in fact showcases as much as possible. One does not get good at something without practice, hence her constant need to fence with others verbally.
"He's motivated by two things," she tells Bart. "Profit and fun. If you can provide both, he'll sign up for whatever it is you've got in mind." She winks at the pirate, another languid smile hooking the corner of her mouth upwards. "Consider this one a freebie, plus he oughtae be used tae this by now. If I'm going down somewhere, I'm always liable tae take him with me in some way."
She sets her glass down, watching the man as he leans forward; fleet, deft fingertips play over the crystalline lip of her goblet, absently swirling her middle fingertip around it - the lack of a sound suggests ordinary glass instead of crystal, always so attuned with the value of objects. Then again, it's not particularly surprising. Saloons are what they are.
"That seems fair enough," she says, when Bart explains how money works; either she had not done any research - either she doesn't care how the money is actually dispensed, which would be incongruous to her nature as a mercenary, no matter how unique her skillset, or she is after something else entirely, being an infamous adrenaline junkie who thrives more on danger and adventure than any tangible reward. "Luckily for you, I'm nae exactly lazy when it comes tae causing trouble."
And that is, to other people's chagrin, an established fact.
She turns towards him when he leans in closer, lowers his voice. A hand props her chin up, the curve of her smile buried against the heel of her palm. But her eyes are steady as she looks directly into his, gauging and surprisingly inscrutable for a woman who seems to find amusement everywhere.
"Actually, I nae have," she tells him. "Done any research."
What?
"Foolhardy, I know. But you can ask the people who know me that I like tae live dangerously. But methinks what you're suggesting is that your reputation says one thing when you're verra capable of doing another. Subterfuge is an ability I can respect, and honestly, these days, rather necessary. Not tae say I'm the subtlest lass there is." She can't help but laugh. "The last two jobs I pulled are nae anything but subtle, but that's how it typically goes with me, luv. Circumstances are always malleable, and I am if nothing but verra adaptable."
She lifts her glass to Bart, before taking a solid swallow.
"So why all this, then? Honor? Good old fashioned revenge?"
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
That was an interesting confession to make - Bart wasn't sure to make of what she said, given that she said that she hadn't done any research. He sits back for a moment as Cassidy makes her confession, telling him that she has foolhardishly agreed to come speak to him about this job without really realizing what it might entail.
If she were not quite so highly recommended, he might actually have called it off there. But he suspects that she's showing off her ability to talk circles around people and pull a fast one, since she'd already shown that she wasn't an idiot. The pirate sits back, and there is something that flickers in his remaining eye as he finishes listening to Cass explain the outcome of her last two jobs.
Hmmm.
"Revenge is as good a reason as any. I've got my reasons for wanting to see the Prime Minister of Aveh, that bald bastard Shakhan, taken out. Both of power, and life in general. But more importantly, this last round of war between Aveh and Kislev has been a mess - Gears being used on both sides means that towns get wiped out and sometimes the people fighting don't even notice." Bart spits on the floor at the thought - he'd been to Lahan recently, and seeing the wreck that town had been reduced to turned his stomach.
"War's not gonna end as long as Shakhan is in power, and I've got it on pretty good authority he's basically working for Gebler at this point in exchange for their military support. We don't have a lot of details on where THOSE soldiers came from, so best way to stop things is to deprive them of their local sock puppet." Bart sits back and smiles, twisting so he can rest one arm over the back of his chair. "Preferably in a messy fashion so no one else feels like stepping up and bending over for Gebler."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
He'd find her smiling at him even as he quietly re-evaluates and asseses her all over again, the devil's own mischief wrought within that stare, irrepressible and undeniable. Cassidy is no mindreader, but to be what she is entails to be, on some level, an accurate reader of human behavior. She can practically taste Bartholomew's doubt from where she sits, but it is in these moments when she can often separate the gamblers from the ones who are averse to risk. Given Bart's profession, it is easy to relegate him in the former category, but there are, as always, limits, and she wouldn't be who she is unless she tested them. That knowledge, after all, can mean the difference between life and death, and much like she has told anyone who has listened in the last month or so, she is not done with this world yet.
Revenge, however, is something that resonates - deep into the marrow of her bones, it does, and as she watches the expressions change in the depths of the normally easygoing pirate's eyes, Cassidy drains her glass of wine and reaches for the bottle, plucking it from the table so she can refill her own glass and the pirate's. "War is a waste," she tells him simply, outlining a genuinely-held philosophy in very few, very straightforward words, though they are enough to illustrate all the nuances that singular opinion entails. "And Vengeance is like a brushfire. It consumes too much, too quickly, if fed too indiscriminately. Not tae say I frown on it, you'll be surprised as tae how far I'd go tae dispense a well-deserved comeuppance. But what you're talking about is tantamount tae revolution, luv. Another one. You think you're ready for the responsibility of what comes after the Prime Minister's in the dirt? Would nae that mean taking on Gebler next while sorting out the mess that inevitably comes out of a regime change?"
There's a hint of a smile, a lift of her shoulders. "Nae one tae wax poetic about politics, either," she tells him, her tone bemused. "But people die, also, when shite is unstable. In my experience, people tend tae lose their god damn minds when they dinnae know what's a sure thing anymore. What the hell, though, ay? I'm more a creature of chaos than order, anyway. Maybe the world needs more of that if not just tae clear the table so we can all more easily see how the cards land."
Reaching out, she plucks a dumpling from the serving plate with a fork, so she can pop it in her mouth and chew thoughtfully.
"I have a counteroffer," she tells him. Because of course she does.
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
"You seem to act like I've not thought this through, Miss Cain," Bart counters as she speaks of what is coming in the future. Of course, she wouldn't know all of the details, nor was he interested in telling them to her. It was the sort of thing that would expose far too much, and he hadn't even worked with this woman, nor heard anything from someone he trusted who could vouch for her.
There was a certain appeal to the whole devil come lately attitude that she was tossing around, but as she gives an assessment of what his vengeance would bring... heh. Well, he could live with it. After all, it wasn't as if it were anything new that he hadn't thought of before. Hearing someone lay it out was rather interesting.
"I doubt we're going to take down Shakhan without dealing with a good bit of Gebler anyways, but once he's out of the way I think you might be surprised how fast they pull out without some pretense of local support. They might be willing to push it, but I'm not afraid to push back." He also follows Cass' example, picking up a stripe of grilled meat on a stick and munching on it for a moment. Hmmm, this wasn't really too bad. He needed to thank Lunata for the good selection of snacks.
"Besides, even Shakhan can't spend the entire royal treasury in this short a period of time - the royal family was fairly frugal, and once we've got our hands on that... well, everyone involved will be filthy rich. Enough that no matter what happens to Aveh, we'll be living large for the rest of our lives."
He finishes off his wine, and then sets the glass down on the table. Feh, this wine was a bit weak. He calls over a waitress, who delivers a mug of beer with a rich head on the top. Bart raises his glass, and looks at his companion. "So if you've got a better counter offer, let's hear it. Kind of hard to beat incredible wealth, I would think."
Just a quiet, measured look. After all, Bart knows the truth of it, but he wonders how much this woman knows and what she has in mind.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
You seem to act like I've not thought this through, Miss Cain.
"Cassidy," she interjects with a smile. "Dinnae think I'm enough of a lady tae warrant any address like that, and of course I am. I'm perceptive, Bart." Already speaking with him in such a familiar way. "But I'm nae a mindreader, and I'd rather hear the words come outta your mouth than go by hearsay." The smile broadens, a flash of white teeth glimpsed past the seam of her lips. "Even if it does end up being a lie, being the degenerate rapscallion pirate you are. But that dinnae bother me as much as people think. I'm always a sucker for a good lie, especially a convincing one. Others hate it, but in my line of work, a well-told fabrication is a thing of beauty, and should nae be wasted."
She grins at him. "Dinnae I tell you I'm nae like the others? The rare guarantee from me is like a god damn diamond, luv. I hope you appreciate how blessed you are at this moment."
His views on revenge and the bloody aftermath that follows taken in stride, what she finds more interesting, in the end, is the fact that he is comfortable with the consequences that will follow, no matter how brutal, no matter the cost. At the very least, that is what he says - it is an entirely different thing in practice, and he gets a gauging look in turn, a lift of her brows to punctuate it. If it is an exaggeration, however, she suspects it'll be proven soon enough. Men tend to show their true selves, after all, when caught in the thick of it.
With the two of them eating, he'd find that while she has a healthy appetite, she tends to savor her food, but that isn't at all surprising. Time has lost all meaning to her, her life measured, instead, by a series of moments accentated by all six senses. Taste, especially, when he has taken the time and effort to make sure the meeting actually feels like a meeting instead of a quick get-together at the bar where nothing is hammered out. As Bart rejects the wine, she pulls the rest of the bottle to her, filling the glass.
The mention of the royal treasure is, of course, of tremenduous interest to her, but not in the way he thinks. "Dinnae think you would want tae risk that," she tells him. "You'd be surprised at how much people can spend when they know it's not really their money that they're spending. Better hit it, I think, before forcing the wee Prime Minister tae dance with the Reaper. Plus..." And there's it is, the smile so sharp that it cuts like a knife, liable to eviscerate those who would glimpse it. "...the look on his face after that glorious, unrepentant screw."
It would be the kind of challenge she can sink her teeth into; she had already been deprived a chance at cracking the infamous Montrose Carbuncle recently, legendary in her profession for being a safecracker's worst nightmare. But to empty Aveh's royal treasury under the nose of its ruthless Prime Minister?
"Oh, I'm always all for incredible wealth." And that is not a lie. "My counteroffer is more along the lines of the hows and not the whats. If you like, whatever pay you deign tae give me, you can give me half of it, and split the rest tae your men and whoever else, or dump it in the proverbial bank for future operations...but under the condition that, if you decide tae steal something, you give me a few days tae assess our options and the requisite information I need tae make those assessments first before we strike. I will, of course, wait for your approval of whatever plan I come up with. That includes your treasury, for whenever you decide tae hit it. And if you think, after it's all said in done, that I deserve more than what you're offering me, in the event that you do want me tae stick around tae do what I do best, then give it. But when this is all over, I expect a commission commensurate with whatever I do for you. Consider it payments deferred, y'ken. That way, you have a surplus of funds for other operations while you're active, and you need nae worry about paying me until you're....I dinnae know. King of Aveh, or sommat. Whatever you intend tae do tae or for the country."
She picks up another dumpling. "Second, I'm a package deal. I have a partner who's handier with ARMs than I am, I'd like it if you took us both, though he'll probably have a different rate." She smiles faintly. "Nae everyone's as generous as I am."
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
Hmph, well at least she has a general sense of the sort of suffering he'd like to inflict on Shakhan. Of course, Bart doesn't explain a lot of things - he knows what the bald bastard is really after, although that isn't something anyone outside of his immediate family is aware of. He's getting close to the point where he's gonna have to explain it to a few people, but... not yet. It's not the sort of thing you look to for simple international politics.
"Well, I don't have any problem with removing the treasury from Shakhan's control, although it's a bit too ambitious a job for right now. He's got Bledavik sewn up like a damn tight sack at the moment and getting in is too much trouble." Bart considers for a moment, thinking on all of the various jobs he has planned to help deal with that problem. There were a lot of different operations - he had a feeling that Cassidy would be rather surprised when she found out about the amount of men and material he actually could swing at a problem when it came down to it.
But that was the thing, of course. She seemed like she was in it for the challenge, but her loyalties... those were harder. He didn't feel like he could trust her sense of altruism or patriotism, like he could with the other recent hires. No, this was a more feckless sort of person. Someone you kept at arm's length... or were willing to deal with if the need arose.
He doesn't bat an eye as she says that she's willing to wait to be paid until things have settled out and he's sure how much money he has. Even more interesting. "So if you're not really interested in the money now, what is it that's driving you, Cassidy?" he inquires, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. "I know why my people are working for me, and while it might be a surprise to some people, it makes sense. Money, patriotism, revenge... those sorts of things are easy. But saying 'You can take my word for it' doesn't exactly fly when we're talking about my men's lives."
He smiles, drumming his fingers on the table for a moment in a steady pattern. "I won't lie, you intrigue me - you're different from a lot of people, but different can also mean dangerous. Especially in places where life and death for a lot of people can be a matter of seconds and inches." Another moment of consideration, as he thinks about the fact that Cass mentions a partner. That seems a little more reasonable - probably the more normal thing that she's said. "I don't mind partners - heck my last hire brought their partner in as well, and I'm willing to be generous with compensation."
Another moment of thought, and then: "Tell you what. I've got an initial job for you, easy enough, although I'm not sure that you'll appreciate the pressure that it will put you under."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"Well, that job is going tae take several months if not a year, and that's a conservative estimate," Cassidy tells Bart, giving him a glance and a lift of her brows. "There are some masterpieces in the world that cannae be rushed, luv, and that bit of larceny may verra well count for one of them." She drains half her glass of wine, the bottle almost finished, before she picks another few skewers of meat into her waiting plate. Again, she takes her time with every bite, though she is far from done eating. Rough living in the wilds of Filgaia for over a decade has seen it fit to bless her with a cast iron and insatiable stomach.
Picking off the last of the meat from her latest skewer, she laughs. "Well, for a pirate, you're certainly prudent. Most of the ones I dealt with in the past would be perfectly happy with the goods speaking for them. But you know as well as I that contracts with money as consideration can always be broken; loyalty is more assured when there's sommat more personal on the line." There's a sidelong glance at Bart. "Is that what you're after, then? Sommat more personal from the likes of a woman who tries not tae be?"
She leans back on her chair, crossing her legs by the knee. After a deliberate, contemplative pause, she speaks.
"I had someone in my life, once, who always told me I could be more." She gestures vaguely with one hand. "So ever since then, I kept doing more and more and more. Gunning for the long shots. Gambling on the impossible odds. Dinnae have many who expresses that much belief in my potential, y'ken, so that's always stuck with me since I was but a wee lass. But after ten years of being what I am, you can imagine that the thrill's not the way it used tae be. Experience keeps people alive, ay, but it has a distressing effect of taking the surprise out of everything, so you're left going through your life thinking half the time that you've seen something like this or that before. And I like tae be surprised, Bart. So while you ask me that, I ask you something in turn..."
She lifts her eyes to meet his from above the lip of her glass. "How far are you willing tae go," she asks, her voice quiet and low. "How much are you willing tae risk, just tae feel alive again? Tae reclaim the spark that makes you believe that all this shite is worth it? Believe me, luv, no amount of gella in the world will give that back tae you once it's lost."
With that, she bites into another dumpling, and in a split-second, that quieter expression vanishes in favor of a grin. "Anyway, he'll be happy tae hear that. I've tried tae ditch him more times than I can count, I'm sure he'll be relieved that I'm willingly taking him along this time."
She says nothing about being dangerously different, or differently dangerous. She contents herself with her wine, as if that brief glimpse past those onion-skin layers hadn't happened.
"Ay, well, neither you and I will know much unless you give me the details as tae what you need me to do," she says. "So what is it?"
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
It's interesting to see the line that divides them suddenly become so starkly clear. Bart has wondered from time to time if his experiences from when he was younger had scarred him in some way. It's interesting, when he sees someone else who has met with something in their past that left its own scars, to be able to compare it for once and see just how he had changed in response to his own trials.
It makes him feel better about himself - and it takes an act of will to keep from reaching up and rubbing the eye patch that concealed the mass of scar tissue that still wakes him up in the middle of the night with its infernal scratching even now. Not to mention all of the other scars that wake him up for very different reasons, jerking him out of a sound sleep with a flash of remembered heat and pain.
But he looks at Cass for a long moment, and recognizes someone else who has, and he will quote himself here, BEEN THROUGH SOME SHIT. Different shit than he had dealt with, true, but they had been there when the offal had hit the fan and had no way to avoid it. But Bart instead spreads his hands in an admission to Cass' first point, since she does make a good one.
"Never said money was something that could produce unbreakable bonds, my blonde friend," he replies quietly, a faint smile crossing his lips. "It is, however, the medium most Drifters do business by. And it's what I have to judge a lot of people. But as I'm sure you've gathered by now, I don't just hire people who are looking for a paycheck. There always has to be something a bit more."
He closes his eye for a moment, and mentally chews over Cassidy's little rant about wanting to feel alive. Feh - not feeling anything. What a crock. While he can see where she's coming from, he actually doubts the two of them would ever understand each other when push came to shove. When that eye flicks open again, crystal clear blue looking at Cassidy for a long moment, Bart replies: "And to answer your question, I wouldn't risk anything just for the sake of feeling alive again. Because I know that what I'm doing has meaning, and there isn't a day that passes that I don't feel like it's worth doing. There's not a day when I don't wake up and feel the intense satisfaction that I can spend another rotation of this sandy rock doing what I need to do, and making sure that my mission gets a little closer to being fulfilled."
He kicks back, picking up his mug of beer and draining three quarters of it in a couple pulls. He slams the mug back down on the table, making the plates dance for an instant, and then spears Cassidy with his gaze. "Not that I don't see where you're coming from. But I think that's the difference between looking for a reason to go on, and having one carved into your flesh."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"Ay," she says agreeably with a laugh. "And you dinnae say it because you know better, and you know I know better. But in many places of our world, that is how transactions roll. No use mourning it, but I can understand that, too. Taking the steps tae be assured that things dinnae go tits up just because someone got greedy."
And she knows that very well, too.
The simmer of doubt on his face, easily glimpsed, has the blonde curling her lips around the lip of her glass, imprinting it with a faint hint of pink - unflavored, tinted beeswax meant to keep the elements from doing too much damage to her mouth. In many ways, she considers it the sharpest weapon in her arsenal, it stands to reason that she would protect it as much as possible.
There's a lazy roll of her head towards Bart, lifting her brows. "Dinnae think that's too different," Cassidy tells him. "When I can arguably say that knowing that you have a purpose, and doing what you do tae fulfill that purpose, is living, for you. And makes you feel alive. May not be the only thing you feel, but it dinnae change the fact that it is the thing that keeps you keeping on, by your own words, and that is life, in the most basic, boiled down sense. So in my estimation, you risk plenty enough tae feel that way, as I dinnae think you'd feel all that rosy about your existence if all of that's taken away from you."
A hand waves to the side. "But that's the answer I have," she tells him. "And now you know. You mentioned an easy task but one laden with pressure, and I've already said in no uncertain terms that I thrive on challenges. So, thrill me, Bart. What do you have for me?"
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
A very weird woman indeed. Bart couldn't say that this was a great idea, but for the time being... well, he'd have to see. There was also that other concern as well that was floating around.
"So, here's what we got for the time being. It's extremely vague and possibly utter nonsense, but on the other hand I'm not inclined to dismiss my source out of hand either. " Bart sits back, and just gives Cassidy a Look that implies that he's expecting her to just laugh and then ask if he's crazy. Either that or just shrug, take his money, and then go off and do something more interesting.
Well, if nothing happened, he'd consider that money well spent.
"For the time being, I'm looking for folks to keep an eye on things here in Adlehyde. My source believes that there is a very good chance something cataclysmic could occur here soon. They don't know what, or exactly how soon, but they believe it's 'soon' and that whatever happens will be of considerable concern. So here's the deal. I'm gathering a small group of people to basically keep an eye out for unusual happenings in the city." Bart says this with a completely flat, no-nonsense expression. He hopes. He's been having a little trouble dealing with this himself.
"Hell, I wonder if the King of Lacour disappearing might have something to do with this warning. But my source says whatever is coming, it's not something tied to normal politics. So here's the deal." Bart pulls out a bag, and tosses it on the table in front of Cassidy. It clinks and crinkles as it lands, suggesting its full of paper and coins.
"I'm paying a few clever and curious people to keep their eyes and ears open, and maybe we can catch wind of whatever's coming and warn the crown. Barring that, I want some people who are willing to help out when the shit hits the fan." He raises his eyebrow curiously. "For you, I expect this will be particularly difficult, since doing nothing seems to be contrary to your nature. Not asking you to only sit around and keep an eye out, but... well, give it a month and if you're still willing to keep working with me, we'll talk. Something happens, and you're here to help, I'll know we're on the same page and we'll go from there."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
There's a slight incline of her head at the bag tossed at the table. Without shame, Cassidy reaches for it, and opens it up, reaching in and takes a few of the bank notes. The rest, she bundles back up, and slides towards Bart. The wad of bills in hand, she folds it carefully and slips it in the back pocket of her leather trousers, but all the while she listens.
Strange woman, he thinks, and he wouldn't be wrong. She is just as capable, once things go down the wire, as she is eccentric, and God only knows why she elects only to take part of what is offered instead of taking the full load and running off with it like any thief - especially a master thief. But she has never been ordinary, and she keeps her reasons close to her chest. She is, in her nature, a gambler - a risk taker of the highest order. Much like how Bart has no guarantee whatsoever that she will deliver, she has no guarantee that Bart also will.
She is a realist, however. A decade in Filgaia, operating in countless cities. Every relationship of this nature always starts out like this - a credit line of faith extended between parties, no matter how loudly money talks.
"I have contacts in Lacour," she tells him. "I can poke around and see if they've heard anything. Still, this cataclysm is rather vague, though I'm nae gonna question the veracity of your source...I know verra well how that goes. My only question is what sort of strange are we talking about here? Magic? Sommat?"
After a pause, she smiles. "But ay, whenever it does, you can count on me tae be there. Would help tae get more information, naturally, considering the warning is so ridiculously vague, because I doubt you and I would wanna get caught in any bloody cataclysm. We got shite tae do, you and I."
<Pose Tracker> Bart Fatima has posed.
Bart pushes his chair back, and gives Cassidy an odd look as she mentioned being caught in a cataclysm. "Yeah, can't imagine why we'd want to be around when that is supposed to happen," he muses, before shaking his head. Well, this would either work out, or it wouldn't. He'd just have to see how it all shook out in the end.
"The bank notes are actually how you should get in touch with me. Just hand one to one of the inn keepers around here and say that you need to get a message to me, and we'll be in touch pretty shortly." If Cass flips the bills over, she'll see that someone has taken an ink pen and drawn a cartoonish, Bart smiley face all over the back of the note. Which is probably* how it's supposed to be used as a medium to initiate the contact.
"I'm not at liberty to say how strange, since it would give me source away, but believe me when I say it's pretty strange," Bart adds for a moment, and then extends his hand for a moment. "I guess we'll be working together for a little while at least, Cassidy. And if we see that we're going to be able to make our styles mesh, then perhaps we'll go further, and do even crazier things. That might just appeal to your sense of adventure and danger, but gotta get the basics out of the way first."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
That odd look earns him a laugh. "The typical way for us rogues is tae laugh at the face of danger, and then run away until it all blows over," Cassidy tells him, rising to stand and reaching over to clasp his hand with hers. If he expects a firm, solid grip, he would come across another oddity - there is barely any pressure in her fingertips, the touch so light and airy that he could break her bones with a twist of her wrist if he wanted. She eschews even that - the human instinct to make sure that the other person knows that this is a meeting of equals.
She is either lacking in confidence, or has confidence in spades, attuned to the idea that she does not see the need to assert equal footing at the first meeting.
"I'm sure it'll work out, Bart. Relax." She winks at him, before easing her hand away to flip one of the bills over to take a look at the back, a grin curling on her lips as she sees his cartoonish likeness etched on it. "I'm sure everything between us will be fine. And if not, I'm sure the two of us can reach a consensus like two consenting adults. Disagreements are inevitable, luv. We're two verra different people, but I'm not above testing our ability tae meet in the middle should the need arise."
With that, she turns to start moving towards the door. "I'll keep you posted." She angles her look over her shoulder, that same, languid expression flitting over the line of her mouth. "And do stay in trouble. You'll nae do me any favors if you dinnae keep me on my toes. God knows I'll be doing the same tae you."
With that, she heads out of the saloon.