2018-03-26: The Vinegar of Our Lives
- Log: The Vinegar of Our Lives
- Cast: Josephine Lovelace, Cassidy Cain
- Where: Vane - Residential District
- Date: March 26th 2018
- Summary: A pair of ladies cross paths, have a few drinks, swap a few stories. Josie learns about the fate of a certain Dragon Fossil... and other things besides.
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
There's something to be said for the quieter days.
Even if frustration makes itself known -- between their arrival on the Old Moon, of all places; between the loss of an alleged archaeological find of the century (and the still-missing Fereshte that's the reason for that absence); between ambient threats new and old alike -- there's always time to take it just a little bit easier.
Thus is the logic that sees Josephine Lovelace leaning against the wall outside the tavern they've claimed -- Wolfsbane, according to the freshly painted sign out front -- as a base of sorts and smoking a cigarette.
It's raining, a deluge more potent than anything Filgaia -- Ignas, at least -- could ever muster, filling the gutters and washing away down the neglected streets of Vane.
Once this was a great city, or so she'd been informed. Seems like a long time ago now.
It's the kind of city she could understand, in a way.
She takes a drag, pulling the glowing dog-end away from her lips, watching the smoke curl up towards the eaves.
So now what?
In spite of the question she might ask of herself, her lips curve in a slight smile. So maybe it's a curveball of detour in her path. She ain't hardly beaten yet.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
It is the nature of Cassidy's current circle of closest associates to do this: to separate from the group and rendezvous at a later date. None of them have ever been 'team players' in the traditional sense, all set with personalities so independent that a place is liable to explode if any of them were forced to stick together for a protracted period of time. In spite of this, however, the blonde thief and her red-haired partner somehow manage to do that less and less in the entire year they've been working together; their longest period of separation, so far, has been three weeks.
And so far, neither of them has killed the other, evidence perhaps that maybe, miracles do exist.
That isn't to say that nobody has died since they settled upon their mutual arrangement a year ago, however.
It had been Jude's plan to go to Vane, having heard unsavory rumors about the place, so it stands to reason that is where a pair of unsavory people should go. And ever one to be the sort to fly by the seat of her pants instead of planning every single nuance of her life, Cassidy agreed to the journey. The sights have been numerous - unlike Filgaia, Lunar was practically choking with life, ever single road to elsewhere buttressed by endless rolling green hills and abundant forests. It took them a few days to acquire horses, not because it had been particularly difficult, but two seasoned operators such as them needed time to get their affairs in order in their own unique ways before attempting to pass themselves off as Lunarians.
So far, they're doing a good job of it also.
In a derelict city like Vane, its once glorious reputation now fallen into visible disrepair, the last thing Cassidy expects in her own explorations is a familiar face, but that is precisely what she finds. Evergreen eyes shot with gold fall on Josephine as she smokes outside of a tavern called Wolfsbane. It is a name as telling as any.
There is no hiding her when she approaches, if not just by the dint of her clothing. Coats were too cumbersome for her and unless they were uniforms, jackets practically did not exist and so she has settled for a long waterproofed scarf that can be fashioned into a hood, presently draped over her spill of sunlit tresses and shoulders to shield them from the weeping skies above them. Black leather trousers are tucked into over the knee boots, a leather corset with straps tucked into an outer shirt dyed a deep red, tied at the hems just underneath the curve of her bosom. Leather gloves without fingers, save for two, wind up her arms.
And as always, she has weapons, though god only knows what they are - some folded wooden and steel mechanism attached to a leather harness strapped diagonally on her chest and a pair of blades, both shorter than swords, attached to the same. But the innocuous knife remains in the place it usually is, against her hip. Snake Eyes - her twin pistols - or Hawthorne's Revolver are nowhere on her person.
"I keep being told those things'll kill you," she tells Josephine lightly, looking up until she sees her eyes from underneath her hood, glinting there like a cat's.
There's an emphatic glance upwards towards the swinging tavern sign.
"This is just a guess but I take it you will nae be the last familiar face I'm going tae see around here."
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
It's been a few years. A few years more... She can wait. As long as it takes.
But for right now, there's no sign of the pigeon that so usually haunts the delightful archaeologist; with the patter of rain and the bird's dislike of getting her feathers wet, perhaps that's not such a surprise.
Josie, too, has traded her usual attire for something a little more familiar to the average Lunarian's gaze. Not the least because, post an encounter with the entity known only as Id, she hadn't been entirely dressed when the Fereshte, her archaeological findings, and her pants had departed for parts unknown.
That said, it isn't terribly dissimilar -- gloves traded out for gauntlets, longcoat and vest exchanged for an asymmetrical overcoat. Longer boots. A somewhat monochrome color scheme.
In the end it's comfortable and has enough pockets for her sort of trade. Particularly given the apparent lack of ARMs here on the Old Moon. She certainly hasn't encountered any ARMs Meisters yet, but that's hardly a problem for a women of her skills.
She lifts her head as a particular figure comes in out of the rain. Dark eyes lift for the still swinging tavern sign. Lopsidedly, Josie smiles.
"And I'd say you're dead on, on both accounts," she says, straightening to drop the sad remains of the cigarette to grind it under heel. "But, given this line of work," and she rolls her shoulders in a shrug, as if to say 'what can you do', "maybe it's just important to enjoy it while you've got it."
There's a pause.
"Not a bad job on the sign, eh? If you're looking for a drink..." She tilts her head to one side. "Well, you came to the right place."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
"Well, I dinnae say it's advice worth following," Cassidy says, mischief lighting up her green eyes. "Never was the sort tae deny myself any vices."
If you're looking for a drink...
"Ay? By the way Noah was talking about the moon, you'd think it'd be hard tae come by. But I s'pose that's what happens when a group of resourceful people get together." Pressing a hand against the doorframe of the tavern, the blonde conwoman dips in a bow from the waist, her free set of fingers sweeping towards the door - as always the entertainer.
She lifts her head up from her bow, though she remains stooped, flashing the archaeologist a wink.
"After you."
Once they venture inside, the place is...well, a dump, but that is typical of works in progress, sometimes it takes some time for a thing's potential to become fully realized. Still, it's good to get out of the rain, and upon stepping into warmer confines, the conwoman's fingers pull down her hood, letting her pale-gold hair spill free. It's starting to get long - longer than she prefers.
"And here I was thinking we were the only ones who had the ill luck tae end up in Lunar," she says, slinging her leather harness off herself as she follows Josie within. "Me, Jude, Molly, Morgan, Gwen..." She angles her head towards her present companion. "Penelope too, or so we thought. Got attacked by what seemed like her relatives in Meribia. Scores of them. Thought only rabbits bred like that, nae like I ken much about rabbits but considering how abundant everything is out here, perhaps I oughtae learn."
Her hands slide into the pockets of her trousers.
"How'd you end up here?"
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"Heh heh... never was the monastic sort myself, right?" She rolls her shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Still, that's the nature of advice -- true, but never the stuff I wanted to follow."
That smile of hers only broadens. "There's always the exception if you're determined enough. And I dare say the people here are determined enough."
Cassidy makes a theatrical gesture towards the door. For a moment miming some stuffy doorman, Josie stands straight as she approaches the door and pulls it open. "No, I insist, madam."
It... looks like a bar that was unknown to the world for the two years prior the proprietor had apparently parted ways with the clergy. But on the other hand, the drink is fairly plentiful, if not particularly fancy itself. Fancy, though, doesn't matter half as much as good. Besides, there's something a little homey about a place like this. Really takes the archaeologist back, as if she's seen a bar like this somewhere before.
"Two'll do, Argus. Don't worry, I'll pay up this time~"
Also true of the bar: its relative emptiness at present. There are signs that it's seen use recently, but only just. Thus, they have their pick of the room for seats.
Josie opts for closer to the fire, settling down with her back to the flame. It was damp out there.
"Huh," so utters Josie, as she considers the frightful tale of woe that is the pigeons of Meribia. "So there's more of them." She, meanwhile, is explicitly referring to a certain Malevolent pigeon they had crossed paths with, one that had only been beaten back by the sudden intercession of a goodly Seraph sparrow with a tiny sword-- Lunar: a little weird.
"Still, once you've got a flock... they can get up to mischief, yeah?" Her gaze lifts, up to the small dark shape looming in the rafters, high and dry. "The feral ones can breed like you couldn't believe. I tell you, if my old birds had half their ease of it..." She rolls her eyes, as if to silently lament the unfairness of it all. "Well, that's fancy pigeons for you."
Penelope remains silent on the matter.
Josie takes this moment to lean back in her seat.
"Wrong place at the wrong time, looks like." Is this what counts for sheepish for her? "Some bad decisions. But on the bright side, I'm still kicking. You?"
Her gaze, hooded, regards Cassidy for a moment. That fossil... but out here, it might not matter anymore, besides.
So be it.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
No, I insist, madam.
"Ach," Cassidy laments, though her expression remains laden with that good-natured humor as she dips Josie a theatrical curtsey instead - graceful and well-practiced, as if she had done it a million times, before stepping inside. "And tae think I was hoping I can still pass off as a miss. You cut me tae the quick, Josephine Lovelace." All done with a press of a hand against her oh-so-wounded heart.
The name of the bartender is noted - Argus, from old stories she has read in adventure books in Filgaia about a legendary shipbuilder, and with that reference, easily remembered. There's an easy wiggle of her fingers to the ex-priest as she plucks her drink from the counter once delivered, and follows the much taller woman to the fire, her long shadow looking longer, still, at the onset of darkness from outside of the tavern's windows. The place looks sparsely populated, not much by way of patrons except for Josie herself, and the bartender.
Huh, so there's more of them.
"Alas," she says, easing on a chair - no perfect posture, for all of her earlier curtseys or even her sweeping bow, she drapes on her chosen seat bonelessly, long legs stretching out. "And here I thought I could get behind liking birds again." The tumbler of alcoholic something cradled on her fingers, she exhales a quiet sigh of relief. Just the smell of the booze relaxes her further.
Well, that's fancy pigeons for you.
"Is that right, Penny?" she wonders of the bird, tilting her head up and conversing with it like it could understand her - a quirk perhaps. She does the same to Jake, and she has even less excuse for that one, considering he was built from nuts and bolts and doesn't have an actual brain. "Well, you're a young lass yet." Or so she thinks. "You can afford tae be picky, still. Nae like Yule cakes such as me and your minder, here."
On the bright side, I'm still kicking.
Her smile lifts. "Ay, there's always that."
You?
She lets out a laugh. "I died," she tells her, as casual as can be, with a glint of her eye. "And when I woke up, I was here." It's an exaggeration but surprisingly, not much of one. "Always knew I'd wind up in Hell, if I ever get back tae Filgaia, maybe I oughtae consider a career change and loan out my services as an oracle. S'pose it could be worse, I could have ended up in an uglier afterlife. But Lunar is pretty, is it nae?
As Josie's eyes lid in consideration from across the way, there's an incline of her head, taking a sip of her drink.
"Nae the kind tae rack up debts," she says breezily, ever one to be quick to read people - archaeologists read the past, but thieves are always inordinately keyed towards people's desires. "You've got that look in your eye, Miss Lovelace. What is it?"
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"Don't we all wish that, sometimes," Josie sighs, breaking her act for but a flicker of a moment. "Well, let's just play the part properly, shall we?" And, as if a steel rod replaced her spine, she straightens, mock formal reserve settling across her expression. "Have a good evening, madam," she says, lowering her voice in mockery of a stuffy doorman, before even the pressure of maintaining this act breaks; a brief titter of a laugh later, she swings in after Cassidy and closes the door tightly.
It won't be long before Argus -- with barely a comment -- presents them with their drinks.
If only more places were willing to extend credit the way this one does, she thinks distantly as she settles in her seat.
Her gaze lifts, regarding now in full the small dark shape in the rafters. "What's that? You want an introduction, Penelope?" She looks back at Cassidy. "What do you think? See if love's in the air? She's still a little young," she says, a slight protest of a note woven into her words. "Or maybe that's just how a mother'd think of it... heh heh. Yule cakes, huh... I'd like to think I could still pass for twenty-five. You think?" That smile though is a rueful one if it ever so existed. She lifts her own glass, as if in a toast. "Heh. No, no such luck, right? Well! Here's to a couple of stale cakes~"
She takes a drink.
And sets it back down, one pale eyebrow lifted. "Funny. I just nearly passed on to the next world myself, I think. Don't suppose there's a chance this is heaven? It's certainly as green enough for it." Her good hand drums out an absent rhythm on the table. "Oh, I know it's not. Besides, if I was dead, there's a long, long list o' things I have left to do." She smirks, as if at some private joke. "...Don't suppose there's much chance of a second career as a ghost? Could maybe haunt ruins myself for a spell, see how it works out..." Her gaze lifts again, fixing for a moment on the distant form of the pigeon, still roosting alone in the rafters.
"Hmm? Oh, no, it's nothing serious. Was just thinking back about a dragon fossil skull I once laid eyes on, for some reason," she says, as airily as someone might discuss the day's weather. That gaze remains on Cassidy the whole way through, as if to suggest at the certain truth the both of them may already know. "They're a pretty rare find, you know. Still, doesn't do me much good thinking of it here -- besides, I'm plenty sure that ship's long since sailed, so to speak. Whoever's got their hands on it now."
Sure enough, there'd been a promise. Certainly, she feels perhaps a slight... well, irritation, having lost it. But so it goes in this world.
...These worlds, she amends.
Still, far be it from her to not make a passing blunt grab for the truth of it all.
She's always been impulsive.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
That's just how a mother'd think of it.
"Ay," Cassidy says with that signature bladed smile of hers, liable to blind and cut the unwary. "Dinnae think there was much of a family resemblance, but now that you mention it, methinks I can see it around the eyes."
Mention of being able to pass off as twenty-five still earns Josephine a resigned expression. "Nae with the way we smoke and drink, but maybe that's actually the secret tae eternal youth. Dry out and pickle our insides like the mummies of yore. Methinks you have sommat there, Josie. You're a bloody genius! Forget being stale cakes, we can both be pickles, swimming in the vinegar of our lives." There's a laugh. "Ay, me, or maybe that's just the allegory getting ahead of itself." She lifts her glass up to a toast.
Taking another drink and letting the alcohol warm her chilled nerves, she lowers her hand, letting her arm dangle off her chair. Despite her boneless lounging, however, the look of her is attentive; always an avid consumer of stories, as Josephine talks, those eyes give her nothing but her absolute attention, as if she is the only thing in Lunar, at the moment, that is worth listening to.
And then she speaks of unfinished business.
"So what you're trying tae tell me is that you dinnae consider this a vacation," she teases, rolling her head back and closing her eyes. "I'm tempted tae consider it as one. It's nae every day you get spirited off tae another world that looks vastly different from the one you left behind. But maybe you can split the difference - pretend you're a ghost here, and once it's time tae return home, you can go back tae being an archaeologist. Though you're going tae have tae tell me how that works out for you." She cracks a single eye open, that ever-present mischief within it. "I'm curious myself, seeing how someone attempts a double professional life."
There's another swallow from her tumbler, and at the mention of the dragon fossil, there's a tilt of her head. "Hm? Oh, that. Well, will nae excuse my verra poor impulse control but once I had it in my huge metal fingers, I simply cannae let go of it. Like you said, it's a rare find." Her smile becomes somewhat helpless in its bent. "It was a crime of opportunity and really, the former owner had it coming."
The words have her eyes lidding, and while her smile remains, something sharper sparks within those evergreen irises, reminded of Riesenlied. It falls short of a specific hate, but it is something similar. The woman, after all, can hold a grudge to compensate for the rarity of the grudges she actually holds.
"Would nae be able tae guarantee selling it tae you, nobody's going tae let it go without the promise of a ridiculous sum. But methinks your real interest is academic in nature anyway. I ken where it ended up, and if that's all you want from it, I can make arrangements, once we get back tae Filgaia."
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"It's always the eyes that give it away, I hear. Mother, or the father, we're always walking off with someone else's eyes..."
Her gaze lifts, to the small form of the pigeon on high. Whatever Penelope might think, she's not saying.
The expression Cassidy bears only provokes the archaeologist towards a loud bark of a laugh. "Think of it as the fruits of a life ill lived!" she encourages, gesturing with her left hand. "I've known more than enough saintly folk who suffered only to die young. Maybe there's something to be said about a collection of vice, instead? Maybe all those quacks are off, and it does the humors good." Another brief laugh, as the set of them are compared to a pair of pickles rather than cakes. "Well, I'll tell you -- I'd far rather have a pickle than a cake any day." Sour enough to last a long time, and still have a bite.
"A vacation? No, daresay I've had enough of that just recovering from picking a fight with a rabid wolf, so to speak. I've had enough sitting around, and besides, just thinking that my things are out there in the world for someone to put their grubby mitts all over... a girl's gotta have standards somewhere along the line, right?" She closes her eyes, mouth puckering as if she'd just eaten a lemon. "What do you call it, when you were so close, but it all got yanked right out of your hands...?"
As if to punctuate this line of thought, she takes a swig, glass hitting the table again with a thud.
"Still, maybe there's some way to split the difference. Probably a few things the people around here don't know about. Maybe it's possible to be a ghost archaeologist..."
This is before she sits up a little straighter in her seat, gaze resting on Cassidy. "Double life, huh? Wasn't aware there were professional ghosts... maybe that's where they all come from."
It may have been a blunt stab forward, but it appears to have born some fruit, at least -- but then again, they were at the same party, even if, on foot, Josie's presence in the aftermath was perhaps a little more under the radar.
Possibly.
She's not going to reject that possibility, either.
"No shame in it. No shame," Josie murmurs, picking up her glass to swirl the contents within it. "It's an uncommonly nice representation. Probably worth a fortune or more to the right buyer, yeah? Wouldn't be surprised if someone cashed in... though, with some buyers, you've got to watch your back."
Mirthlessly, she smiles. "Some of 'em will buy off you then turn around and make sure their money wasn't squandered." She arches an eyebrow and leans back in her seat, chair rocking briefly against the floorboards before she plants her foot firmly once more.
"Arrangements, huh? Well, now, that's a tempting offer. But I suppose it'd depend on what the arrangements were?" She smiles, a little thinly. "I'm hardly a wise woman -- anyone who's spent any time near me'd agree, for sure. Still, let's just say I've been caught by the short and curlies before?" She shrugs her shoulders in a lazy demi-shrug, gaze half-lidded as if fixing on some distant unpleasant memory. "People can talk all they want about ivory towers, but academia is a harsh, cruel place..."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Mother or father, we're always walking off with someone else's eyes.
"Nae me," Cassidy replies lightly with a laugh. "I sprang fully grown from the earth. Keep me out in the water long enough and I'll start tae melt."
Josephine's laughter earns her a grin as their analogies run the entire gamut of food stuffs - from cake to pickles. "Ay, well, I hear you there. Besides, there's sommat tae be said about having too much sugar. We're nae the types, you and I." Though the term reminds her of Gwen, constantly striving to see the good side in others and ready to accept them no matter how much wrong they've done.
The archaeologist's lamentations of her lost things has her smiling ruefully. "Understandable, that. There's sommat tae be said about losing your life's work tae theft or other nefarious ends."
Her response about the dragon fossil has her waving a hand lightly. "Ida Everstead-Rey is now the proud owner of the thing you're wanting tae get your hands on," the blonde tells her. "Sold it tae her and her goons from Aquvy for a pretty sum." The words are modest, but she already knows there is no fooling Josie - she probably knows the value of the thing more accurately than she does. "S'pose if you wanted tae take a look at it tae study, I can ask about it - the woman owes me plenty. There's a slight complication tae that, however...."
She takes another sip from her glass, lifing her eyes to meet Josie's across the way.
"She's one of them now. Transformed because of Moon Cancer." What she calls Malevolence.
But then again, she's heard the term before from someone else in her acquaintance, hasn't she?
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
That earns Cassidy a lopsided smile, coupled with an arch of a pale eyebrow.
"Somehow that, I can believe," she affirms, lifting her glass with her good hand, as if to see the contents catch in the firelight from behind her.
Before appending, almost impishly, to the talk of stale cakes and sour pickles: "Well, maybe a little bit of sugar? A little contrast in life, perhaps." Something that stands against the bitterness, even in a heart like her own.
But if it's got to be bitter, perhaps let it be bitter.
Her glass practically dangles from her fingertips as she leans onto the table with her right arm, nodding along as Cassidy underlines the main issue at stake here -- that her work is lost somewhere on the moon. "See? And it's not even finished. If I don't bring the goods, it's not going to fly. So, you see -- it doesn't matter how long it takes. I'm going to take back what's mine."
With that, she palms the glass and lifts it to her lips, straightening to roll back a touch in her seat.
And pauses midway as Cassidy explains precisely who has the fossil skull now.
"...That girl?" She sets down her glass.
"...Suppose she's got the funds for it. Is she going to take it back home to one of her museums or something? Hmm..." Contemplative, perhaps, best describes her expression. "A look, maybe. Assuming she hasn't shuttled it on back--"
She hadn't entirely been watching Cassidy, her thoughts partially elsewhere. Her gaze shuttles on back now, though -- catches that look in the other woman's eyes.
Half realizes that 'slight' might just mean more than slight, before Cassidy can give context to the clues.
"One of them."
'Moon Cancer'. A blink follows, realization chasing its tail. She remembers. What had almost happened to Lily. The rumors that had circulated about the stuff.
Transformed townsfolk.
"So you're telling me," she says, the picture of calm, "That Ida Everstead-Rey is now some sort of monster."
Her left palm slams into the table seconds later, shattering whatever illusion she might have projected earlier. "That-- idiot girl!"
"Are you an idiot or a fool, girl?"
Seething out a breath, Josie tilts a glance up towards the ceiling before irritatedly grabbing for the glass and taking a mouthful from it. "...And she warned us about the stuff, too... there's no helping some people," she muses, shaking her head. "Well, alright. I suppose that just means the terms might be the sacrifice of some villagers under the light of the New Moon rather than a king's ransom."
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Setting her glass on a small table next to her chair, Cassidy reaches into her pocket to withdraw a leather pack of cigarettes that she had to roll herself - while tobacco exists in Lunar, filters, sadly, do not. Though one filtered cigarette still remains in the pouch that she brings out. She elects to take one of the handrolled ones, however, leaving the filtered one alone - that, she is saving for a special occasion. Perhaps once they find a way out of Lunar and back to where they belong.
The thing pressed between her lips, she finds her lighter - a beautiful, distinct silver thing that Josie has seen on her person before, though the scratches on the front plate are indicative enough that it has seen plenty of adventure. The engraving of a snake eating its own tail gleams in the light of the roaring fire, reflected off the blue crystals it has for eyes. She takes a deep inhale once the end of her cigarette is lit up.
It doesn't matter how long it takes. I'm going to take back what's mine.
There's a smile that pairs with the strangely inscrutable look in those green-and-gold eyes, her thumb rolling contemplatively over the embossed ouroboros.
"I'll be rooting for you, luv," she murmurs, with a cheeky wink.
Right before realization sets in and Josephine finds out just what exactly happened to Ida Everstead-Rey, and what skin she's presently wearing now. Smoke wafts from between her lips as she watches the gamut of expressions pass over the white-haired archaeologist's face before the slam of a fist rattles her own side table.
That...idiot girl!!
"Dinnae ken much about the checklist one has tae complete tae turn intae one of those," Cassidy tells Josephine. "But I've seen three of them turn intae those monsters, methinks there's a discernable pattern. That and it's nae as if I dinnae ken Ida before she transformed." She pauses contemplatively, her gaze turning towards the fire as memories surface.
"She mentioned someone was messing with her well before she turned intae it," she tells Josephine. "Someone testing her. Dinnae tell me his or her name or anything, but she was afraid for some reason that this person, whoever they are, was right about her. Oughtae take her word for it, methinks, but you ken what I do for a living, lass. You dinnae do what I do without being able tae read a person."
She exhales softly, smoke curling from her lips.
"Nae just that," she continues. "Some part of Ida wanted this person's approval."
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
Quite a pretty thing, that lighter. A far cry from the battered old workhorse that passes for Josie's own. She'll have to see about refilling it, up here on the moon. But doubtless they have something she can make do with, in the worst scenario. It's not nearly as difficult -- well, time-consuming that is -- as her other resource-management issue.
They do not sell bullets up on the moon, sure enough, but there are workarounds for those who know the way.
"Thanks."
For those who are determined enough.
And for the rest, well...
"Three people now, is it." This Josie half-echoes, staring into the depths of her glass, eyes heavy-lidded. "And here I thought Tiger was a special case. Lucky for her, huh." She sighs, for the moment nearly world-weary, though the smile on her lips yet might bely that impression, just a bit.
"Knew her, did you? I used to think she was a smart girl, myself. But, you know how it is."
She shrugs languidly.
"Some people just can't handle it."
Judgement rendered, she leans in to listen to Cassidy's depiction of the fall of Ida, right hand curling around the glass.
"Someone was messing with her well before she turned into it."
Testing her.
Prodding her.
As if thoughtful, Josie straightens in her seat. No haphazard swallow of her drink follows; she merely cradles the glass in the palm of her one good hand.
Her lips press thinly.
"...So eager to please. More girls ought to learn how to misbehave, don't you think?" she asks her drinking companion.
It's them, isn't it.
"I shall tear it, and all that you yet cling to, down around your ears."
...Let them try it.
"Well. That story aside..." she says, once more swirling the glass in her hand.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
And here I thought Tiger was a special case.
"Tiger?" Cassidy inquires - though she has no doubt it's probably an affectionate moniker for one of their three million mutual acquaintances. Seriously, it's like the world's been holding out on them. Looking back, she's amazed that she hadn't met Josephine sooner than they actually did, when they seem to know the same people from all over.
But when Josephine wonders about the extent of her relationship with Ida, there's a shake of her blonde head. "It's odd when you hold a professional relationship with someone," she tells her with the quirk of a wry smile. "Stay around their orbit for long and it turns personal rather quickly. The lass went tae me for advice, originally. She's gifted academically, ay, but she dinnae ken shite about thieving." She tilts her head back to look at the ceiling. "Nae the type tae pour out her insides tae just anyone, also, but I s'pose she told me that much because she knew I was nae the type tae judge her integrity as a person."
The description of the person testing Ida, however, sparks a shift in Josephine's overall languid body language. Lidded eyes take in the straightening of her shoulders, the way fingers curl around her tumbler. The way her lips press in a thin line.
"Ken who I'm talking about, then?" she wonders.
More girls ought to learn how to misbehave, don't you think?
That, too, earns Josephine one of her more inscrutable looks, though it doesn't banish the bladed smile she turns to the archaeologist.
"Take it you're speaking from personal experience," the blonde guesses, her tone implying that she isn't guessing at all. "Always knew there was sommat rebellious about you, an academic that's somehow got some eyes and ears in the unsavory sphere in which the likes of me operate? Cannae say I blame you, lass. There's more excitement with a rough crowd than a stuffy circle of scholars whose idea of excitement is editing a master thesis twenty-four hours before it's due tae a university printing press."
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"Tiger?" Cassidy asks.
"Lily," Josie responds, lips tilting in a lopsided smile at the absolutely awful pun. "Between her and Leon... Lions and Tigers, yeah?"
Buch such more lighthearted conversational topics are soon left at the doorstep, so to speak. A little more detail is threaded out to the exact nature of Cassidy and Ida's relationship, along with a comment that just provokes a sorry shake of the head and a sigh from Josie. "Heh," she exhales, the sound barely much of a laugh. "You certainly could say that... It's how it is at that age, particularly with those from academia, I suppose. Probably why most of us don't get into ruins-delving as a business, huh." That brief enlightenment prompts only a shake of the head. "Those that do, though... Hm." A thoughtful look wends its way onto her face. "Guess she did run into the hard work and take it badly after all."
It's what she's long suspected happened.
"Ken who I'm talking about, then?"
"You could say that," comes Josie's reply. "Seems like a certain knight in shining armor's been stirring up more trouble 'n I thought..." She exhales a sigh, finally lifting her glass to her lips to take a sip. "Well, no matter. Someone will sort this out sooner or later."
Ideally with a shotgun, but.
Beggars can't be choosers.
"Hmm~" The conversation winds its way out towards somewhat safer grounds again, it seems. "I suppose you could say that. Comes a day in most girls' lives when you wonder just why you're doing what other people are telling you, right?" The slightly harder look in her dark eyes belies the more-playful smile on her lips. "...Besides, the real discoveries are at the bleeding edge, not clustered away in some stuffy library, or even at, yes, the university printing press."
She clasps her bad hand against her chest and rolls her eyes towards the rafters.
"Spare me."
From above, Penelope stares down, eyes glittering.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
Lily.
Cassidy lets out a laugh, now that the terrible pun has been revealed. "Oh, ay? She dinnae look like the nickname type, but I s'pose she dinnae complain if it comes from you? She's funny, that one." Leon, too. "Fitting names other than the obvious. Nae an expert on wildlife, considering the lack of it in our neck of the woods, but from what I remember, lions are pack animals while tigers are solitary hunters, but social animals. Sounds like our favorite pair of lovebirds, does it nae?"
She listens attentively despite how she looks, like the lady of the manor, indolently draped on her chair and taking up as much space as the seat could afford her, smoke curling from her cigarette and her fingers dancing over the rim of her tumbler. But Josephine's insight, at least when it comes to the people that tend to make scholarship their lives, is valuable. For a moment, she sees the shadow of a body somewhere behind Josephine, dangling from a stretch of rope.
"I'd say there's sommat tae be said about knowing one's limits," she continues. "But methinks I've completely forgotten whether the word's in my bloody vocabulary."
Hence the potentially dangerous line of questioning, but queries such as that are hardly the sorts the conwoman balks at. Fortune, after all, favors the bold.
That is interesting, too, that the archaeologist seems to know who it is that she is talking about - a figure not mentioned by name, roaming around the sands and pitting people against adversarial circumstances. "Ay, is it nae typical?" she wonders with a laugh. "Sounds frightening, that one. If I take that literally and it sounds like this sod is roaming around a hot desert world baking inside of armor, he or she can probably withstand a lot of shite."
But as Josephine confirms her own rebellion, Cassidy lifts her glass to her lips again. "Ay, true, that," she tells the archaeologist. "How wee were you when the realization hit you?" There's a sharp grin, returning in full force and putting the nearby fire to shame. "Or were you always a hellion?"
She is decidedly not apologetic about her own pun.
"So what you're saying is that you're nae the publishing type?" she wonders. "Or are you the publishing type but only when it's necessary? Should I be calling you Doctor Lovelace and nae miss?
<Pose Tracker> Josephine Lovelace has posed.
"Bin-go," Josie intones, pointing a finger at Cassidy as if it were a handgun instead. "You got it in one. The fact that their names are also good old puns on their own is just the icing on the cake." She pauses, though, as if to consider this. "Or the vinegar in the pickle? Hmm~"
Too easily amused at her own jokes, this one.
But... everyone in the end has their own rope and enough of it. It's just a matter of figuring out how to get them to hang themselves with it.
"You know, I've heard the same thing over and over again..." Josie sighs, hanging her head on the subject of one's limits. "But they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, and who am I to buck the trend?"
Before the topic arcs towards the matter of the armored figure themself. "Hmm. Now that you put it like that, it would be an oven, wouldn't it..." She taps the fingers of her good hand against the table and does her best not to laugh too much. It results in a crack of a smile in the end, no matter how hard she tries.
No matter what promises she might silently make.
"How wee were you," Cassidy asks.
"If you asked my auntie..."
Josie smiles, irrepressibly sunny. "Born a hellion~"
And determinedly so ever since, it seems.
"Only when necessary, but I daresay my time's coming. Publish or perish, as they say. I might hate the field but I love the job. We've all got someone holding our leash in life, huh." She swirls the dregs in her glass, watching the amber droplets chase their way around the bottom. "You understand why I might want my things back, right? That's my professional life on the line there!"
She settles back in her seat, apparently content to leave the glass now where it is. "Doctor? Oh no. Not yet."
But, perhaps, if her meaning is to be taken in a certain way, well. That could someday change.