2018-07-19: Swimming With Sharks: Difference between revisions

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(Created page with "*'''Log: Swimming With Sharks''' *'''Cast:''' Character :: Cassidy Cain, Character :: Loren Voss, Character :: Jude Moshe *'''Where:''' A summer villa in Meribia *...")
 
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<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.


With tensions tipping into the boiling point between Hyland and Rolance, on the other side of the world away from the brewing war, Cassidy Cain has been up to her usual brand of mischief.
With tensions tipping into the boiling point between Hyland and Rolance, on the other side of the world away from the brewing war, Cassidy Cain has been up to her usual brand of mischief.
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Though that isn't to say that she hasn't obtained her share of creature comforts since then.
Though that isn't to say that she hasn't obtained her share of creature comforts since then.


Just /how/ the inveterate con artist and thief has managed to acquire a seaside villa, nobody knows, but somehwere out there, some noble personage who keeps a summer home close to the port city is fully unaware of it suddenly repossessed and repurposed for some other nefarious use. But the war means that most of Hyland's and Rolance's nobility are simply too busy to worry about their vacation homes located elsewhere, and the woman is as opportunistic as ever. This is precisely where Loren Voss manages to find her; through the gates leading to a beautiful property wrought of white-washed stone and manicured gardens that open up into a stretch of private beach, the high noon sun glittering upon white sands and splintering against the undulations of pristine, crystal-blue water.
Just ''how'' the inveterate con artist and thief has managed to acquire a seaside villa, nobody knows, but somehwere out there, some noble personage who keeps a summer home close to the port city is fully unaware of it suddenly repossessed and repurposed for some other nefarious use. But the war means that most of Hyland's and Rolance's nobility are simply too busy to worry about their vacation homes located elsewhere, and the woman is as opportunistic as ever. This is precisely where Loren Voss manages to find her; through the gates leading to a beautiful property wrought of white-washed stone and manicured gardens that open up into a stretch of private beach, the high noon sun glittering upon white sands and splintering against the undulations of pristine, crystal-blue water.


There is nobody to greet him but a silent old woman named Beatrice, who functions as valet, housekeeper and laundromat, though whether she is a new hire or the sole survivor of the former staff's ruthless culling, it is difficult to discern, unless one asks Cassidy directly. He'd be shown through open rooms with hard wood and tasteful furniture, leading to a back patio where flexible reclining chairs made of rattan would be spotted. Under a large umbrella is Cassidy herself, hair loose and tousled carelessly around her face by ocean breezes, clad in a swimsuit and a pair of short cut-offs that probably spent its former life as a pair of full breeches until its legs were removed. A pair of sunglasses is perched on her nose. Stretched out on a recliner, she is the very picture of a cat lounging under sun and shadow, indolent and relatively content with the state of her life.
There is nobody to greet him but a silent old woman named Beatrice, who functions as valet, housekeeper and laundromat, though whether she is a new hire or the sole survivor of the former staff's ruthless culling, it is difficult to discern, unless one asks Cassidy directly. He'd be shown through open rooms with hard wood and tasteful furniture, leading to a back patio where flexible reclining chairs made of rattan would be spotted. Under a large umbrella is Cassidy herself, hair loose and tousled carelessly around her face by ocean breezes, clad in a swimsuit and a pair of short cut-offs that probably spent its former life as a pair of full breeches until its legs were removed. A pair of sunglasses is perched on her nose. Stretched out on a recliner, she is the very picture of a cat lounging under sun and shadow, indolent and relatively content with the state of her life.
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She rises at that, and move to take a hanging white shirt off the side of her chair, slipping it over her shoulders and buttoning the middle two buttons.
She rises at that, and move to take a hanging white shirt off the side of her chair, slipping it over her shoulders and buttoning the middle two buttons.


<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.


To say that life has become more complicated since he managed to royally botch an intelligence mission (to the point of getting arrested by the Guard) would be an understatement. No one in Command has said anything /directly/ (...outside internal punitive actions at least, as expected under such circumstances) but Loren has been under the deep, abiding impression that they're struggling to think of what to do with him. They're short-staffed by the nature of their landing, but expeditions are risky because he was directly targetted by 'Azazel', and now intelligence is likely a wash.
To say that life has become more complicated since he managed to royally botch an intelligence mission (to the point of getting arrested by the Guard) would be an understatement. No one in Command has said anything ''directly'' (...outside internal punitive actions at least, as expected under such circumstances) but Loren has been under the deep, abiding impression that they're struggling to think of what to do with him. They're short-staffed by the nature of their landing, but expeditions are risky because he was directly targetted by 'Azazel', and now intelligence is likely a wash.
And he's just found out that there's a bounty on his head.
And he's just found out that there's a bounty on his head.
When he reports that, it'll probably be the last straw -- or at least, that's what he figures, his mind working overdrive down familiarly paranoid paths. Ugh, they'll probably bench him back in standby in clinic staff at this rate and move someone in medical out to active support, which is going to make him /incredibly/ popular with whoever in medical managed to get reassigned.
When he reports that, it'll probably be the last straw -- or at least, that's what he figures, his mind working overdrive down familiarly paranoid paths. Ugh, they'll probably bench him back in standby in clinic staff at this rate and move someone in medical out to active support, which is going to make him ''incredibly'' popular with whoever in medical managed to get reassigned.


He needs to find something worthwhile to send back, and he needs to find it soon. But somehow he thinks possibly adding another person to their intelligence network isn't going to cut it. But what should he even...
He needs to find something worthwhile to send back, and he needs to find it soon. But somehow he thinks possibly adding another person to their intelligence network isn't going to cut it. But what should he even...


Agitated, utterly at a loss, he'd gone walking (after a change of clothes, while keeping to the lesser-travelled streets) in a vain attempt to see if there was /something/ he could think of to quite possibly save his career (does it matter, up here on the moon? would things like that eventually break down?).
Agitated, utterly at a loss, he'd gone walking (after a change of clothes, while keeping to the lesser-travelled streets) in a vain attempt to see if there was ''something'' he could think of to quite possibly save his career (does it matter, up here on the moon? would things like that eventually break down?).


As it happened, his circuitous route has taken him off towards the large seaside manors, streets now quiet with many of their owners with more pressing things to concern themselves about than their summer homes. He lingers for a moment by one of the servants' entrances, lost in thought as he gazes up towards the blue skies overhead, bumping back against the gate--
As it happened, his circuitous route has taken him off towards the large seaside manors, streets now quiet with many of their owners with more pressing things to concern themselves about than their summer homes. He lingers for a moment by one of the servants' entrances, lost in thought as he gazes up towards the blue skies overhead, bumping back against the gate--
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His expression does an impressive pass through annoyance, shock, recognition, and finally:
His expression does an impressive pass through annoyance, shock, recognition, and finally:


irritation. The sort of face you make when you realize the universe really /is/ out to get you. "You--" he starts, hand going to the sword holstered at his hip -- it's still just as inexpert as he'd been before when he'd drawn on her in the forest -- before he realizes she's... not alone.
irritation. The sort of face you make when you realize the universe really ''is'' out to get you. "You--" he starts, hand going to the sword holstered at his hip -- it's still just as inexpert as he'd been before when he'd drawn on her in the forest -- before he realizes she's... not alone.


His gaze rests on Jude for a few seconds or so.
His gaze rests on Jude for a few seconds or so.
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If there's one thing that does more or less stay the same across cultures, it's the taste of the upperclass. He would know.
If there's one thing that does more or less stay the same across cultures, it's the taste of the upperclass. He would know.


<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.


''So how did it feel like returning tae your roots?''
''So how did it feel like returning tae your roots?''
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He also certainly did not catch those 'very' 'subtly implied' 'airquotes.'
He also certainly did not catch those 'very' 'subtly implied' 'airquotes.'


<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.


/So what is this?/
''So what is this?''


"A house." That sense of amusement only grows, visible in Cassidy's eyes. "You've been here for months now, ay? You know verra well that spending your coin on various inns and hotels will drain the coinpurse quickly. You'd think someone as experienced as you are in falling intae places you dinnae belong that you'd ken a thing or two about the realities of travel."
"A house." That sense of amusement only grows, visible in Cassidy's eyes. "You've been here for months now, ay? You know verra well that spending your coin on various inns and hotels will drain the coinpurse quickly. You'd think someone as experienced as you are in falling intae places you dinnae belong that you'd ken a thing or two about the realities of travel."
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And the redhead offers his own story there; that he owns the place. Dressed as he is, completely immersed in the high-end fashions of Lunar, he may very well pass off as some kind of lordling, taken by some foreigner from a distant star. There's a brilliant, if not cutting smile his way - liable to bleed someone, or blind the unwary. Were Morgan here, he'd be saying something about Jude taking the credit for Cassidy's work, but there's no hint of anything disgruntled on her features. Instead: "Ay, that. It's his place. In fact, Jude's been so generous that he's nae so much as insisted I refer tae him by title. It's just as well, methinks. Nae the kind tae rub elbows with nobility, usually. I'll only butcher the proper way tae address him." There's a sideways glance at Jude, mischief hinted at the turn of her smile. "What was it again, luv? My lord? Your Grace? Your Eminence? Could nae tell which is which, it all sounds the same tae me."
And the redhead offers his own story there; that he owns the place. Dressed as he is, completely immersed in the high-end fashions of Lunar, he may very well pass off as some kind of lordling, taken by some foreigner from a distant star. There's a brilliant, if not cutting smile his way - liable to bleed someone, or blind the unwary. Were Morgan here, he'd be saying something about Jude taking the credit for Cassidy's work, but there's no hint of anything disgruntled on her features. Instead: "Ay, that. It's his place. In fact, Jude's been so generous that he's nae so much as insisted I refer tae him by title. It's just as well, methinks. Nae the kind tae rub elbows with nobility, usually. I'll only butcher the proper way tae address him." There's a sideways glance at Jude, mischief hinted at the turn of her smile. "What was it again, luv? My lord? Your Grace? Your Eminence? Could nae tell which is which, it all sounds the same tae me."


That keen stare falls on the sword on Loren's side; it can't be helped, with the knee-jerk way his hand falls upon the hilt so inexpertly. "Nae tae say you have nae changed since I saw you last. /That/ sword, at least, is made for you, unlike its original incarnation." Knowledgeable enough to know, at the very least, that it's the /same/ blade she has come up close and personal with before. "You still dinnae ken what you're doing with it, though. Methinks you oughta stick tae what you're good at, lad - maybe you'll live longer that way."
That keen stare falls on the sword on Loren's side; it can't be helped, with the knee-jerk way his hand falls upon the hilt so inexpertly. "Nae tae say you have nae changed since I saw you last. ''That'' sword, at least, is made for you, unlike its original incarnation." Knowledgeable enough to know, at the very least, that it's the ''same'' blade she has come up close and personal with before. "You still dinnae ken what you're doing with it, though. Methinks you oughta stick tae what you're good at, lad - maybe you'll live longer that way."


The redheaded journalist's remarks on clandestine meetings has her laughing. "With the way I charmed myself intae your life, your home and your property, y'ken verra well that the most clandestine I get is....nae so clandestine. I'm as just of a loss as you are as tae what he's doing here. And so is he, I'm guessing. You'll have tae forgive Beatrice - " Pronounced Be-ya-tri-cheh. "- I s'pose she was so desperate for help around here that she thought picking anyone off the street would do."
The redheaded journalist's remarks on clandestine meetings has her laughing. "With the way I charmed myself intae your life, your home and your property, y'ken verra well that the most clandestine I get is....nae so clandestine. I'm as just of a loss as you are as tae what he's doing here. And so is he, I'm guessing. You'll have tae forgive Beatrice - " Pronounced Be-ya-tri-cheh. "- I s'pose she was so desperate for help around here that she thought picking anyone off the street would do."


/Though I don't think you'd get very far with a sword hand like that./
''Though I don't think you'd get very far with a sword hand like that.''


There's a laugh, picking up her coconut and taking a sip from its straw. "Ay, that's what I told him when he tried tae kill me that one time in the forest. He was stalking one of those massive crab-beasts, got the impression through it that he thought I was sommat else. Water under the bridge, methinks, nae need tae worry about blood on all of this pretty white stone, though if you're the sort tae be entertained by that kind of thing, I'd oblige you if nae just because you're letting me stay here."
There's a laugh, picking up her coconut and taking a sip from its straw. "Ay, that's what I told him when he tried tae kill me that one time in the forest. He was stalking one of those massive crab-beasts, got the impression through it that he thought I was sommat else. Water under the bridge, methinks, nae need tae worry about blood on all of this pretty white stone, though if you're the sort tae be entertained by that kind of thing, I'd oblige you if nae just because you're letting me stay here."
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Those wicked eyes return to Loren. "Alas, dinnae think he's here for a duel, though. Door's that way if you want tae see your way out, but I'd take the man's advice if I were you. You're nae in Filgaia anymore, wearing a sword on your side's like wearing an ARM on our star." It invites challenge, more often than not.
Those wicked eyes return to Loren. "Alas, dinnae think he's here for a duel, though. Door's that way if you want tae see your way out, but I'd take the man's advice if I were you. You're nae in Filgaia anymore, wearing a sword on your side's like wearing an ARM on our star." It invites challenge, more often than not.


<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.


"I am... well aware that this is a /house/," he says as if afflicted by a crippling headache, his expression taking a sharp dive towards the sour. Why are all the older woman he has to run into like this? "What I meant is, 'what are you doing--'"
"I am... well aware that this is a ''house''," he says as if afflicted by a crippling headache, his expression taking a sharp dive towards the sour. Why are all the older woman he has to run into like this? "What I meant is, 'what are you doing--'"


He cuts off as Jude explains... well, everything. He turns towards Jude, incredulous.
He cuts off as Jude explains... well, everything. He turns towards Jude, incredulous.
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This just means that Jude receives a slightly more critical gaze than before as he looks over the tall mystery man, as if weighing his current appearance and demeanor against the likelihood of him actually being the homeowner.
This just means that Jude receives a slightly more critical gaze than before as he looks over the tall mystery man, as if weighing his current appearance and demeanor against the likelihood of him actually being the homeowner.
...It checks out, though, at least based on what he can /see/. Though he's begruding at least to let this one pass, it's not as if he can spot anything to put the lie to Jude's claim.
...It checks out, though, at least based on what he can ''see''. Though he's begruding at least to let this one pass, it's not as if he can spot anything to put the lie to Jude's claim.


Maybe he is learning to think before assuming. Maybe.
Maybe he is learning to think before assuming. Maybe.
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"Fine. You're staying at his pleasure, or whatever it is. Then maybe you've got some idea why that woman..." He trails out as Cassidy's gaze drifts towards the sheathed blade at his side.
"Fine. You're staying at his pleasure, or whatever it is. Then maybe you've got some idea why that woman..." He trails out as Cassidy's gaze drifts towards the sheathed blade at his side.


Blue eyes widen as she names the origin of the sword for what it is; his fingertips brush absently against the crossguard as if in memory of what it had used to be. But surprise doesn't last long -- not when she comments directly on the lack of skill he still possesses in abundance. Because there hasn't been anyone to teach him. Or, more accurately, because he's /afraid/ of the reaction -- how they'll laugh, he's sure of it -- which he'd get if he asked his colleagues. He's medical. He's support. Shouldn't that be where he focuses? And yet.
Blue eyes widen as she names the origin of the sword for what it is; his fingertips brush absently against the crossguard as if in memory of what it had used to be. But surprise doesn't last long -- not when she comments directly on the lack of skill he still possesses in abundance. Because there hasn't been anyone to teach him. Or, more accurately, because he's ''afraid'' of the reaction -- how they'll laugh, he's sure of it -- which he'd get if he asked his colleagues. He's medical. He's support. Shouldn't that be where he focuses? And yet.


Irritation only further bundles in across his shoulders as Jude comments on his decidedly inexpert sword hand. Why does he put up with this?
Irritation only further bundles in across his shoulders as Jude comments on his decidedly inexpert sword hand. Why does he put up with this?
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Everything in him screams 'leave'. Accept your humiliation for what it is, get out, lick your wounds, know your place--
Everything in him screams 'leave'. Accept your humiliation for what it is, get out, lick your wounds, know your place--


No. /He's a first class citizen/.
No. ''He's a first class citizen''.


Something in him cracks.
Something in him cracks.
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Hands it to her, hilt first.
Hands it to her, hilt first.


"/Fine/. If you-- if either of you know so much... then show me! Show me how to use it!!"
"''Fine''. If you-- if either of you know so much... then show me! Show me how to use it!!"


/What the hell ARE you doing/, the voice protests in the back of his mind. He ignores it.
''What the hell ARE you doing'', the voice protests in the back of his mind. He ignores it.


<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.


Taking credit for the other's hard work:
Taking credit for the other's hard work:
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Yep.
Yep.


<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.


/I think it's more of a villa./
''I think it's more of a villa.''


"Right, that. Forgive me, luv. What does a wee lass like myself ken about real estate? Absolutely nothing, that's why I have you." All with an easy smile and a lowering of long lashes.
"Right, that. Forgive me, luv. What does a wee lass like myself ken about real estate? Absolutely nothing, that's why I have you." All with an easy smile and a lowering of long lashes.
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If Loren is surprised that she is able to tell just by looking at his sword as to discern where it came from, Cassidy doesn't appear to have noticed. If anything, the languid, easy smile she directs his way is reply enough to the widening of his eyes, taking a sip of her cocktail. Cheeks hollow out delicately at every draught from the straw.
If Loren is surprised that she is able to tell just by looking at his sword as to discern where it came from, Cassidy doesn't appear to have noticed. If anything, the languid, easy smile she directs his way is reply enough to the widening of his eyes, taking a sip of her cocktail. Cheeks hollow out delicately at every draught from the straw.


And she doesn't even react much, either, at the changes wrought upon the man at every word she utters, each meant to inspire a reaction - the narrowing of his eyes, the shortening of his breath with every syllable designed to feed into the furnace of his temper. This isn't the first time she has come across 'Thomas Blackwell', and usually, she can get to the nuts and bolts of a person by just that initial meeting. After all, didn't she tell him? Give her a few minutes in his company and she'll be able to divine what's /truly/ important to him?
And she doesn't even react much, either, at the changes wrought upon the man at every word she utters, each meant to inspire a reaction - the narrowing of his eyes, the shortening of his breath with every syllable designed to feed into the furnace of his temper. This isn't the first time she has come across 'Thomas Blackwell', and usually, she can get to the nuts and bolts of a person by just that initial meeting. After all, didn't she tell him? Give her a few minutes in his company and she'll be able to divine what's ''truly'' important to him?


It certainly explains how she's able to rile him so quickly.
It certainly explains how she's able to rile him so quickly.


With Jude adopting the ruse and with Cassidy following his lead on the subject of the villa - a reverse from what usually happens, never claim the woman isn't adaptable - there's an easy lift of her shoulders. "Well, you heard His Most Honorable Magnificence," she remarks, non-plussed, to Loren. "If you're here for a longer stay, I'm afraid he's nae taking any more house guests. You understand, do you nae? Men of his stature and prestige /do/ require their privacy, nae matter how casual they seem tae the plebs."
With Jude adopting the ruse and with Cassidy following his lead on the subject of the villa - a reverse from what usually happens, never claim the woman isn't adaptable - there's an easy lift of her shoulders. "Well, you heard His Most Honorable Magnificence," she remarks, non-plussed, to Loren. "If you're here for a longer stay, I'm afraid he's nae taking any more house guests. You understand, do you nae? Men of his stature and prestige ''do'' require their privacy, nae matter how casual they seem tae the plebs."


Jude's claim about his disappointment has her grinning, a touch of rue on the expression. "Ay, well. That's up tae him now, is it nae?"
Jude's claim about his disappointment has her grinning, a touch of rue on the expression. "Ay, well. That's up tae him now, is it nae?"


It sure is, for after a few seconds of the words leaving her mouth, Loren appears to have /every/ intent of taking her up on that offer. Eyes burning, young frame stringing with livewire tension, it's enough to get anyone's hackles up, especially when he's moving towards her so purposefully - anyone but Cassidy, who continues taking a sip of her cocktail, and Jude, veteran as he is when dealing with unexpected violence. It's even difficult to determine whether she noticed that surreptitious dip of her partner's hand behind his back also, and it might be the reason why she elects to do nothing in preparation for whatever attack is to come.
It sure is, for after a few seconds of the words leaving her mouth, Loren appears to have ''every'' intent of taking her up on that offer. Eyes burning, young frame stringing with livewire tension, it's enough to get anyone's hackles up, especially when he's moving towards her so purposefully - anyone but Cassidy, who continues taking a sip of her cocktail, and Jude, veteran as he is when dealing with unexpected violence. It's even difficult to determine whether she noticed that surreptitious dip of her partner's hand behind his back also, and it might be the reason why she elects to do nothing in preparation for whatever attack is to come.


But none arrive. The sword is presented to her instead, hilt first and the request that follows is nearly drowned out by white noise suddenly crowding her skull. There's a glance at the blade, the customized crossguard and the length of it, tempered steel and something else glinting under the high-noon sun. While nothing about her outward demeanor changes, from the smile on her lips and the easy grip she has on her coconut, something /does/. It is hard to identify, even to those who know her best...the woman is persistently marked by the way she throws herself body and soul in whatever she invests herself at the moment, be it a heist or an elaborate charade like this one.
But none arrive. The sword is presented to her instead, hilt first and the request that follows is nearly drowned out by white noise suddenly crowding her skull. There's a glance at the blade, the customized crossguard and the length of it, tempered steel and something else glinting under the high-noon sun. While nothing about her outward demeanor changes, from the smile on her lips and the easy grip she has on her coconut, something ''does''. It is hard to identify, even to those who know her best...the woman is persistently marked by the way she throws herself body and soul in whatever she invests herself at the moment, be it a heist or an elaborate charade like this one.


There is none of that here, suddenly. None of that spark, or fire. Behind her smile and the gleam in her eyes is a disconcertingly /empty/ void as she looks at the beautifully edged thing - if she's even seeing it at all.
There is none of that here, suddenly. None of that spark, or fire. Behind her smile and the gleam in her eyes is a disconcertingly ''empty'' void as she looks at the beautifully edged thing - if she's even seeing it at all.


In the end...
In the end...


/Eager kid, huh?/
''Eager kid, huh?''


"Hm?" Cassidy murmurs absently.
"Hm?" Cassidy murmurs absently.


/I think you have a boyhood crush on your hands, Lady Cassidy./
''I think you have a boyhood crush on your hands, Lady Cassidy.''


"Nae a lady yet, Magnificence." That earlier fugue banished at the blink of an eye, she gives Jude one of those bright, blinding smiles. "Give me a few months, however, I may just change your mind."
"Nae a lady yet, Magnificence." That earlier fugue banished at the blink of an eye, she gives Jude one of those bright, blinding smiles. "Give me a few months, however, I may just change your mind."
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She finally reaches out to take the hilt, turning it over in her hands. "Nae exactly a discipline you can learn overnight, lad...even for you talented Gebler types," she says. "So you better think long and hard as tae what you're putting your mitts intae." A more feline glint enters her eyes. "You got tae be willing tae be absurdly intimate with what you're holding....and getting that close is excruciatingly painful."
She finally reaches out to take the hilt, turning it over in her hands. "Nae exactly a discipline you can learn overnight, lad...even for you talented Gebler types," she says. "So you better think long and hard as tae what you're putting your mitts intae." A more feline glint enters her eyes. "You got tae be willing tae be absurdly intimate with what you're holding....and getting that close is excruciatingly painful."


<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.


One thought rises to the surface well above all others as Loren watches the purported owner of the manor--villa and his alleged guest banter with one another on semantics and proper titles: what on Filgaia did he ever do to deserve this in life?
One thought rises to the surface well above all others as Loren watches the purported owner of the manor--villa and his alleged guest banter with one another on semantics and proper titles: what on Filgaia did he ever do to deserve this in life?
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And she meanwhile inspects the blade he's handed her.
And she meanwhile inspects the blade he's handed her.


'Even for you talented Gebler types', she says, and he's for a moment on alert -- before he, by inches eases back, too aware that she's watching him and /watching his every twitch/.
'Even for you talented Gebler types', she says, and he's for a moment on alert -- before he, by inches eases back, too aware that she's watching him and ''watching his every twitch''.
          
          
It's far too late to jump at the realization that she knows his alliances at this juncture, besides. Even if she is just a Lamb. A Lamb that he's apparently willing to learn from.
It's far too late to jump at the realization that she knows his alliances at this juncture, besides. Even if she is just a Lamb. A Lamb that he's apparently willing to learn from.
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He swallows. "Of course. I know that," he says again, gaze fixed on her, as if he could read her mind. Seek after that expression that had been on her face, moments before. "It's a sword. It's meant to kill people." And if you're going to kill people... you should expect to be killed.
He swallows. "Of course. I know that," he says again, gaze fixed on her, as if he could read her mind. Seek after that expression that had been on her face, moments before. "It's a sword. It's meant to kill people." And if you're going to kill people... you should expect to be killed.
          
          
Even he knows /that/.
Even he knows ''that''.


<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.
<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.


Absolutely not! shouts Loren as if Jude had just insinuated he goes around lusting after barn animals.  
Absolutely not! shouts Loren as if Jude had just insinuated he goes around lusting after barn animals.  
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No, Loren is never escaping his lot in life.  
No, Loren is never escaping his lot in life.  


***
<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.


Loren claims that he is ready, prepared for anything she could throw at him. Long, pale fingers pinch her coconut's straw between them, stirring it around what remains of her cocktail. It is as if whatever it had been hadn't happened at all, when she smiles as brilliantly as she does, suddenly filled with that usual fiery spirit, and willingness to do something /because/ she can, relentless in her pursuit to make her life a little more interesting than it was a day, an hour, or a minute ago.
Loren claims that he is ready, prepared for anything she could throw at him. Long, pale fingers pinch her coconut's straw between them, stirring it around what remains of her cocktail. It is as if whatever it had been hadn't happened at all, when she smiles as brilliantly as she does, suddenly filled with that usual fiery spirit, and willingness to do something ''because'' she can, relentless in her pursuit to make her life a little more interesting than it was a day, an hour, or a minute ago.


"Somehow I doubt that, lad," Cassidy tells him. "That you ken. But you dinnae have tae worry, ay? I'm nae out tae kill you."
"Somehow I doubt that, lad," Cassidy tells him. "That you ken. But you dinnae have tae worry, ay? I'm nae out tae kill you."
Line 379: Line 379:
For now, at least. As she's fond of telling anyone who would listen, she never rules anything out.
For now, at least. As she's fond of telling anyone who would listen, she never rules anything out.


"Though you have tae appreciate the sheer irony of this arrangement, ay? You tried tae kill me before, and now you're putting me in a position tae try and make you better at doing the very thing, at some point in our lives. You're lucky, Tommy." Her smile lifts higher on the corners of her mouth. "I /do/ so love tae live dangerously."
"Though you have tae appreciate the sheer irony of this arrangement, ay? You tried tae kill me before, and now you're putting me in a position tae try and make you better at doing the very thing, at some point in our lives. You're lucky, Tommy." Her smile lifts higher on the corners of her mouth. "I ''do'' so love tae live dangerously."


She finishes her cocktail at that, and tosses the coconut husk over her shoulder, letting it sail past the railing and land on the sands and brush below. And at the tilt of Jude's golden eyes towards her more verdant ones, she holds his gaze for a heartbeat.
She finishes her cocktail at that, and tosses the coconut husk over her shoulder, letting it sail past the railing and land on the sands and brush below. And at the tilt of Jude's golden eyes towards her more verdant ones, she holds his gaze for a heartbeat.
Line 385: Line 385:
But she pushes away from the rail at that, and tilts the sword she is holding, the tip finding its way into Loren's scabbard. She slides the thing back in with a click, releasing the crossguard. Her hands find the pockets of her cutoffs after, fingers clenching tight on the lining, unseen.
But she pushes away from the rail at that, and tilts the sword she is holding, the tip finding its way into Loren's scabbard. She slides the thing back in with a click, releasing the crossguard. Her hands find the pockets of her cutoffs after, fingers clenching tight on the lining, unseen.


/What do you say?/
''What do you say?''


"Ay," she sighs, the sound exaggerated and long-suffering, her head rolling back. "Who am I tae disappoint a lad with a crush?" Like she /didn't/ hear Loren's protests about the fact that he doesn't. "Though he'd have tae be blind, Magnificence, nae tae ken from the start that I /only/ have eyes for you." The last said in a sing-song fashion.
"Ay," she sighs, the sound exaggerated and long-suffering, her head rolling back. "Who am I tae disappoint a lad with a crush?" Like she ''didn't'' hear Loren's protests about the fact that he doesn't. "Though he'd have tae be blind, Magnificence, nae tae ken from the start that I ''only'' have eyes for you." The last said in a sing-song fashion.


To Loren, she waves a hand. "Come back here in a couple of days, then, and we'll start. Word of advice? Take up an instrument while at it, if you've nae. Piano, guitar. Sommat."
To Loren, she waves a hand. "Come back here in a couple of days, then, and we'll start. Word of advice? Take up an instrument while at it, if you've nae. Piano, guitar. Sommat."

Latest revision as of 23:58, 21 July 2018

  • Log: Swimming With Sharks
  • Cast: Cassidy Cain, Loren Voss, Jude Moshe
  • Where: A summer villa in Meribia
  • Date: July 19, 2018
  • Summary: Cassidy steals a beautiful summer villa. Jude becomes a member of Lunar's nobility. Loren makes the biggest mistake of his life. This is all connected, somehow.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

With tensions tipping into the boiling point between Hyland and Rolance, on the other side of the world away from the brewing war, Cassidy Cain has been up to her usual brand of mischief.

Said mischief is quieter than her usual wont, however - with her ridiculous degree of infamy left behind in Filgaia, a new world gives her plenty of anonymity with which to exploit. While this means, essentially, that her usual resources are far from reach, that hasn't stopped the woman from indulging in her usual lifestyle; she travels and explores - a predilection she has shared with Jude Moshe in the last few months - and falls back on her old skills when the need for financial capital arises, but they always, eventually, circle back to Meribia if not just to keep abreast of clues that will eventually take them back to their dustbowl of a home.

Though that isn't to say that she hasn't obtained her share of creature comforts since then.

Just how the inveterate con artist and thief has managed to acquire a seaside villa, nobody knows, but somehwere out there, some noble personage who keeps a summer home close to the port city is fully unaware of it suddenly repossessed and repurposed for some other nefarious use. But the war means that most of Hyland's and Rolance's nobility are simply too busy to worry about their vacation homes located elsewhere, and the woman is as opportunistic as ever. This is precisely where Loren Voss manages to find her; through the gates leading to a beautiful property wrought of white-washed stone and manicured gardens that open up into a stretch of private beach, the high noon sun glittering upon white sands and splintering against the undulations of pristine, crystal-blue water.

There is nobody to greet him but a silent old woman named Beatrice, who functions as valet, housekeeper and laundromat, though whether she is a new hire or the sole survivor of the former staff's ruthless culling, it is difficult to discern, unless one asks Cassidy directly. He'd be shown through open rooms with hard wood and tasteful furniture, leading to a back patio where flexible reclining chairs made of rattan would be spotted. Under a large umbrella is Cassidy herself, hair loose and tousled carelessly around her face by ocean breezes, clad in a swimsuit and a pair of short cut-offs that probably spent its former life as a pair of full breeches until its legs were removed. A pair of sunglasses is perched on her nose. Stretched out on a recliner, she is the very picture of a cat lounging under sun and shadow, indolent and relatively content with the state of her life.

Right next to her chair is a coconut with a straw, a cocktail made out of summer fruit and moonshine. Save for the halved green husk full of contraband liquor (brewed somewhere, and secretly, in the property's cellar), she isn't alone. Voices spill from the open doorway towards Loren's ears - he would recognize Cassidy's, though whether he'll recognize the other, it is up in the air.

"So how did it feel like returning tae your roots? Must've been a few long years since you've actually donned a cassock, ay?"

But when he steps out into the back deck, he'd also find the tall, lean shadow of Jude Moshe, red hair and amber eyes set on fire by the midday sun; colors that could be seen for miles.

Whatever else Cassidy has to say to the man stills by virtue of the Gebler agent's arrival. "Here tae try and kill me again?" she wonders, rolling her head lazily towards Loren's direction, his face reflected on her dark lenses. A pinky hooks into the frame, to lower it over her nose just enough so brilliant green eyes and their gold flecks can peer at him from the top. "Should nae have knocked, if that's the case." She looks more amused about the prospect than anything, a hand gesturing lightly. "Jude, this is 'Thomas Blackwell'." And while no fingers come up to do the quotes-endquotes gesture, her tone emphatically demonstrates what she thinks about that particular alias.

She rises at that, and move to take a hanging white shirt off the side of her chair, slipping it over her shoulders and buttoning the middle two buttons.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

To say that life has become more complicated since he managed to royally botch an intelligence mission (to the point of getting arrested by the Guard) would be an understatement. No one in Command has said anything directly (...outside internal punitive actions at least, as expected under such circumstances) but Loren has been under the deep, abiding impression that they're struggling to think of what to do with him. They're short-staffed by the nature of their landing, but expeditions are risky because he was directly targetted by 'Azazel', and now intelligence is likely a wash.

And he's just found out that there's a bounty on his head.

When he reports that, it'll probably be the last straw -- or at least, that's what he figures, his mind working overdrive down familiarly paranoid paths. Ugh, they'll probably bench him back in standby in clinic staff at this rate and move someone in medical out to active support, which is going to make him incredibly popular with whoever in medical managed to get reassigned.

He needs to find something worthwhile to send back, and he needs to find it soon. But somehow he thinks possibly adding another person to their intelligence network isn't going to cut it. But what should he even...

Agitated, utterly at a loss, he'd gone walking (after a change of clothes, while keeping to the lesser-travelled streets) in a vain attempt to see if there was something he could think of to quite possibly save his career (does it matter, up here on the moon? would things like that eventually break down?).

As it happened, his circuitous route has taken him off towards the large seaside manors, streets now quiet with many of their owners with more pressing things to concern themselves about than their summer homes. He lingers for a moment by one of the servants' entrances, lost in thought as he gazes up towards the blue skies overhead, bumping back against the gate--

And is grabbed and dragged in by his elbow by an old woman with a grip like an iron vise and exactly the countenance to match.

"What are you-- let go of me!"

She, naturally, doesn't answer.

(it's entirely possible he may have been mistaken for someone else, probably a new hire or some such)

This is the point where he's more or less led out onto the patio, which, it seems, is occupied--

His expression does an impressive pass through annoyance, shock, recognition, and finally:

irritation. The sort of face you make when you realize the universe really is out to get you. "You--" he starts, hand going to the sword holstered at his hip -- it's still just as inexpert as he'd been before when he'd drawn on her in the forest -- before he realizes she's... not alone.

His gaze rests on Jude for a few seconds or so.

"...Somehow, I doubt I'd let myself get dragged in by the serving staff if I were here to commit an assassination," he informs her, utterly deadpan. He finally gets the moment to look around at the decor of the place. "So what is this? Somehow I doubt you've become a member of the noble classes overnight."

If there's one thing that does more or less stay the same across cultures, it's the taste of the upperclass. He would know.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

So how did it feel like returning tae your roots?

"A lot less violent than I remember. But, y'know.

"Different cultures and all, I guess."

This is the short and sweet summation of recent events that spills from the lips of the tall redhead settled against the nearby railing of the patio -- coupled effortlessly with a most ambivalent of shrugs that comes to him as naturally as a blink might to a normal human being. It's like commentary about returning to a favorite old restaurant and realizing the menu has been altered slightly. Unusual, but ultimately mundane.

But maybe that's just how the broad strokes of life are for the intrepid (??) journalist known as Jude Moshe.

Mundane certainly has been his life since arriving here, at least. But when you're gathering information, the last thing you want to do is stand out. Blend in. Go unnoticed. Let people behave as close to normally as possible. Let the answers come to you. That's the best way to handle it. And that's exactly what Jude has been doing, canvasing villages and cities of Lunar to the best of his ability in these last handfuls of months for twofold purposes: one, to get an idea of just what the hell this place is like (answer: awful). And two? Find a way the hell off this awful place. And in this much, he has been very low key.

Well. Mostly.

You don't necessarily live in a fancy villa (you don't own) by being low key (except for the points that matter (like making sure the owners don't find out you're living in their fancy villa)).

Nevertheless, Jude molds to his environs like the most skilled of social chameleons. The way he eases himself back into that railing like he knows exactly how much weight it can support, the lax, easy way he enjoys the warmth of the outdoors, the way he casually nurses that cigarette between his lips, the fine, tailored attire he wears -- all speak to someone who might as well have been living in this place their entire life. In fact --

"Oh, I'm just letting her stay here for a couple days. She charmed her way into my life, my home, and my property. I'm at a total loss."

-- He might as well be the owner letting Cassidy stay here, for as utterly at home as he comports himself.

At least he sells the line without even so much as blinking.

Amber eyes rest their weight on Loren as he arrives, though, with a moment of obvious confusion. Brows scrunch, his head tilts. "Have we met?" he wonders -- before waving off the entire prospect with the twitch of his cigarette-holding hand. "Don't worry. You've probably just got one of those faces. Nondescript." At least he -- uses a tone that makes it sound like a compliment?

"Anyway... I wouldn't put anything past Cass here. Maybe she thought it'd be good sport to have you try to kill her on my patio." Yes. His. Definitely. He even lets out an exasperated sigh despite his easygoing smile, hands raised palms-upwards as that sharp stare focuses on the hand falling to that hilt.

"Though I don't think you'd get very far with a sword hand like that. Sorry."

His smile, too, turns apologetic.

"So, is this one of those 'clandestine meetings,' then? I feel like I ought to be using an alias or something."

He also certainly did not catch those 'very' 'subtly implied' 'airquotes.'

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

So what is this?

"A house." That sense of amusement only grows, visible in Cassidy's eyes. "You've been here for months now, ay? You know verra well that spending your coin on various inns and hotels will drain the coinpurse quickly. You'd think someone as experienced as you are in falling intae places you dinnae belong that you'd ken a thing or two about the realities of travel."

And the redhead offers his own story there; that he owns the place. Dressed as he is, completely immersed in the high-end fashions of Lunar, he may very well pass off as some kind of lordling, taken by some foreigner from a distant star. There's a brilliant, if not cutting smile his way - liable to bleed someone, or blind the unwary. Were Morgan here, he'd be saying something about Jude taking the credit for Cassidy's work, but there's no hint of anything disgruntled on her features. Instead: "Ay, that. It's his place. In fact, Jude's been so generous that he's nae so much as insisted I refer tae him by title. It's just as well, methinks. Nae the kind tae rub elbows with nobility, usually. I'll only butcher the proper way tae address him." There's a sideways glance at Jude, mischief hinted at the turn of her smile. "What was it again, luv? My lord? Your Grace? Your Eminence? Could nae tell which is which, it all sounds the same tae me."

That keen stare falls on the sword on Loren's side; it can't be helped, with the knee-jerk way his hand falls upon the hilt so inexpertly. "Nae tae say you have nae changed since I saw you last. That sword, at least, is made for you, unlike its original incarnation." Knowledgeable enough to know, at the very least, that it's the same blade she has come up close and personal with before. "You still dinnae ken what you're doing with it, though. Methinks you oughta stick tae what you're good at, lad - maybe you'll live longer that way."

The redheaded journalist's remarks on clandestine meetings has her laughing. "With the way I charmed myself intae your life, your home and your property, y'ken verra well that the most clandestine I get is....nae so clandestine. I'm as just of a loss as you are as tae what he's doing here. And so is he, I'm guessing. You'll have tae forgive Beatrice - " Pronounced Be-ya-tri-cheh. "- I s'pose she was so desperate for help around here that she thought picking anyone off the street would do."

Though I don't think you'd get very far with a sword hand like that.

There's a laugh, picking up her coconut and taking a sip from its straw. "Ay, that's what I told him when he tried tae kill me that one time in the forest. He was stalking one of those massive crab-beasts, got the impression through it that he thought I was sommat else. Water under the bridge, methinks, nae need tae worry about blood on all of this pretty white stone, though if you're the sort tae be entertained by that kind of thing, I'd oblige you if nae just because you're letting me stay here."

Those wicked eyes return to Loren. "Alas, dinnae think he's here for a duel, though. Door's that way if you want tae see your way out, but I'd take the man's advice if I were you. You're nae in Filgaia anymore, wearing a sword on your side's like wearing an ARM on our star." It invites challenge, more often than not.

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

"I am... well aware that this is a house," he says as if afflicted by a crippling headache, his expression taking a sharp dive towards the sour. Why are all the older woman he has to run into like this? "What I meant is, 'what are you doing--'"

He cuts off as Jude explains... well, everything. He turns towards Jude, incredulous.

"You're the owner?"

This just means that Jude receives a slightly more critical gaze than before as he looks over the tall mystery man, as if weighing his current appearance and demeanor against the likelihood of him actually being the homeowner.

...It checks out, though, at least based on what he can see. Though he's begruding at least to let this one pass, it's not as if he can spot anything to put the lie to Jude's claim.

Maybe he is learning to think before assuming. Maybe.

Is that recognition?

"We haven't," Loren informs him, perhaps a little too hastily. Ugh... maybe it would be better to return to the ship and just resign himself to the boredom of standby. At least it's better than jeopardizing things if someone takes the Guard up on the price on his head.

Of couse, then Jude makes a particular comment. 'He just has one of those faces' the red-haired man informs him, and Loren makes the sort of expression best captioned, 'are you kidding me'.

Well, maybe this could mean he won't immediately get someone willing to pick up on his current bounty. Possibly.

"Fine. You're staying at his pleasure, or whatever it is. Then maybe you've got some idea why that woman..." He trails out as Cassidy's gaze drifts towards the sheathed blade at his side.

Blue eyes widen as she names the origin of the sword for what it is; his fingertips brush absently against the crossguard as if in memory of what it had used to be. But surprise doesn't last long -- not when she comments directly on the lack of skill he still possesses in abundance. Because there hasn't been anyone to teach him. Or, more accurately, because he's afraid of the reaction -- how they'll laugh, he's sure of it -- which he'd get if he asked his colleagues. He's medical. He's support. Shouldn't that be where he focuses? And yet.

Irritation only further bundles in across his shoulders as Jude comments on his decidedly inexpert sword hand. Why does he put up with this?

...because he has no choice in the matter.

And besides that, he thinks, shoulders slumping, it's true. He's possibly more a liability with it than without it.

Cassidy recollects for Jude that time they'd encountered one another in the forest out near Vane.

She laughs.

As if it was nothing, not even enough to consider him anything. Not a threat, not even a nuisance, not anything.

His breathing grows shallow, his throat tight.

Everything in him screams 'leave'. Accept your humiliation for what it is, get out, lick your wounds, know your place--

No. He's a first class citizen.

Something in him cracks.

He strides forward with sudden intent, staring her down as if he could bore a hole right through her. And Loren draws the sword and--

Hands it to her, hilt first.

"Fine. If you-- if either of you know so much... then show me! Show me how to use it!!"

What the hell ARE you doing, the voice protests in the back of his mind. He ignores it.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Taking credit for the other's hard work:

What are partners for if not for that?

"Actually, I think it's more of a villa."

And, judging by the casual tug of a smile and his matter-of-fact tone, one can assume Jude Moshe feels absolutely no remorse for his flagrant pedantry.

Making him possibly one of the worst sorts of people.

Plucking his cigarette from his lips, Jude exhales smoke through his nostrils with a languid sort of breath. The patio fills with the swiftly-dissipating scent of tobacco as he tilts his head back, staring upwards towards the ceiling as the two converse as if he simply couldn't be bothered. Like a true noble.

What was it again, luv? My lord? Your Grace? Your Eminence?

"'Your Most Honorable Magnificence.' Don't worry -- I'm too enchanted to be bothered that you don't bother."

Just. Like a noble.

Eventually, though, the dark yellows of Jude's gaze tilts back down peer at Loren for a long, quiet moment after he very swiftly and firmly insists that they've never met. Eyes slit in a squint. Lips purse just slightly. Like someone very clearly on the dawn of some terrible realization.

"Huh. Well, if you say so."

And apparently that realization is just Loren 'has one of those faces.'

Unless, of course, it's simply a ruse...?!

The fact that Jude continues to eye the young man with just the subtlest edge of suspicion afterwards leaves no real resolution to Loren's concerns -- the fact that he doesn't so much as address it afterwards in favor of looking aside to take a puff of that slowly-dwindling stick of tobacco probably leaves it all just as much in the air, if not moreso.

"Well, regardless, I've already got one house guest, and that's practically one too many, so if you're here to try to call in favors with your friend to get a roof over your head for a rare few days," he idly glosses over the implication that he apparently thinks Loren is homeless, "I'm afraid you're out of luck. I think there's a workable gazebo at a nearby estate you might be able to use, though."

Sorry! his smile says. It also doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Just. Like. A. Noble.

But, it seems, the reason for Loren being here is pure fluke, a fact that (Noble!)Jude seems to take with more than a bit of healthy skepticism painting his expression. "I have to say, that's kind of disappointing. I was half-hoping he'd stumble his way in and see whether he managed to hurt himself or you with that sword." Quietly does the noble Magnificence known as Jude sigh as he stubs his cigarette against the rail. It's his rail, obviously, he can do what he wants with it.

But, slowly (or not so slowly) the needling seems to get beneath the skin of poor Loren. Dark red brows raise in mild surprise in a bland way that expertly hides the way his right hand falls behind his back, underneath his coat, as Loren suddenly marches forward looking like a bundle of recently-hammered, exceedingly raw nerves. Strides forward with resolved intent and a stare that could set fire to this very nice house (villa) as he draws that sword to--

Desperately request swordplay lessons.

For a long moment, Jude Moshe just stares, quietly, as if at a loss for words, dark red brows raised and lips pursed as if he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or scratch his head or ask a question or--

--or just stare, like Loren were quietly being judged for all of fifteen tense, silent seconds.

"Wow," he says, after a long moment.

"Eager kid, huh?" He scratches the back of his head. "Coming all this way and throwing away his pride just for a sword lesson..." The sentence trails for a long, poignant moment, since clearly this was all intentional on Loren's part and absolutely not a fluke of fate.

"I think you've got a boyhood crush on your hands, Lady Cassidy."

Yep.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

I think it's more of a villa.

"Right, that. Forgive me, luv. What does a wee lass like myself ken about real estate? Absolutely nothing, that's why I have you." All with an easy smile and a lowering of long lashes.

If Loren is surprised that she is able to tell just by looking at his sword as to discern where it came from, Cassidy doesn't appear to have noticed. If anything, the languid, easy smile she directs his way is reply enough to the widening of his eyes, taking a sip of her cocktail. Cheeks hollow out delicately at every draught from the straw.

And she doesn't even react much, either, at the changes wrought upon the man at every word she utters, each meant to inspire a reaction - the narrowing of his eyes, the shortening of his breath with every syllable designed to feed into the furnace of his temper. This isn't the first time she has come across 'Thomas Blackwell', and usually, she can get to the nuts and bolts of a person by just that initial meeting. After all, didn't she tell him? Give her a few minutes in his company and she'll be able to divine what's truly important to him?

It certainly explains how she's able to rile him so quickly.

With Jude adopting the ruse and with Cassidy following his lead on the subject of the villa - a reverse from what usually happens, never claim the woman isn't adaptable - there's an easy lift of her shoulders. "Well, you heard His Most Honorable Magnificence," she remarks, non-plussed, to Loren. "If you're here for a longer stay, I'm afraid he's nae taking any more house guests. You understand, do you nae? Men of his stature and prestige do require their privacy, nae matter how casual they seem tae the plebs."

Jude's claim about his disappointment has her grinning, a touch of rue on the expression. "Ay, well. That's up tae him now, is it nae?"

It sure is, for after a few seconds of the words leaving her mouth, Loren appears to have every intent of taking her up on that offer. Eyes burning, young frame stringing with livewire tension, it's enough to get anyone's hackles up, especially when he's moving towards her so purposefully - anyone but Cassidy, who continues taking a sip of her cocktail, and Jude, veteran as he is when dealing with unexpected violence. It's even difficult to determine whether she noticed that surreptitious dip of her partner's hand behind his back also, and it might be the reason why she elects to do nothing in preparation for whatever attack is to come.

But none arrive. The sword is presented to her instead, hilt first and the request that follows is nearly drowned out by white noise suddenly crowding her skull. There's a glance at the blade, the customized crossguard and the length of it, tempered steel and something else glinting under the high-noon sun. While nothing about her outward demeanor changes, from the smile on her lips and the easy grip she has on her coconut, something does. It is hard to identify, even to those who know her best...the woman is persistently marked by the way she throws herself body and soul in whatever she invests herself at the moment, be it a heist or an elaborate charade like this one.

There is none of that here, suddenly. None of that spark, or fire. Behind her smile and the gleam in her eyes is a disconcertingly empty void as she looks at the beautifully edged thing - if she's even seeing it at all.

In the end...

Eager kid, huh?

"Hm?" Cassidy murmurs absently.

I think you have a boyhood crush on your hands, Lady Cassidy.

"Nae a lady yet, Magnificence." That earlier fugue banished at the blink of an eye, she gives Jude one of those bright, blinding smiles. "Give me a few months, however, I may just change your mind."

She finally reaches out to take the hilt, turning it over in her hands. "Nae exactly a discipline you can learn overnight, lad...even for you talented Gebler types," she says. "So you better think long and hard as tae what you're putting your mitts intae." A more feline glint enters her eyes. "You got tae be willing tae be absurdly intimate with what you're holding....and getting that close is excruciatingly painful."

<Pose Tracker> Loren Voss has posed.

One thought rises to the surface well above all others as Loren watches the purported owner of the manor--villa and his alleged guest banter with one another on semantics and proper titles: what on Filgaia did he ever do to deserve this in life?

Maybe his bloodline is well and truly cursed.

It certainly doesn't help when Jude turns his attention towards 'Thomas' himself and Loren then feels for a moment the full brunt of the man's critical attention, almost as if Jude could read his mind.

Even when Jude seems to brush it aside as a nothing, he's far too paranoid to take that realization at face value. But without knowing more, with nothing to back it up than his own anxieties, there's also absolutely nothing he can do, particularly about a suspicious nobleman Lamb.

She had said as much when they had last met. She was able to know what drove a person within a few minutes of speaking to them. He'd scoffed back then but...

She's playing him now, isn't she? It only adds to the flame burning beneath the surface.

"I wasn't planning on staying," he replies to the supposition that he's here looking for a room with a 'friend', glancing briefly between Cassidy and Jude both. "I have accomodations."

This is actually not true, given how short the span of time it took for him to realize he was definitely 'wanted', but, details.

Jude's smile is met with the flattest expression possible.

It in fact maintains as Jude goes on, commenting on Loren's relative lack of skill with the blade, though it might be possible to compare it to the earth's crust in those days leading up to its fracturing. Something is under pressure, and the look in Loren's eyes says a lot more than his expression does.

'Positively murderous' might account for it.

Particularly when he starts forward.

Makes that request.

All the while, he's painfully, painfully aware of the 'noble's' gaze on him. That analyzing, judgemental look. His gaze shifts, as if to interrogate Jude in silence, and head on--

But his gaze returns to Cassidy. It's there in her eyes that he sees... something odd.

It's not a look that is unfamiliar to him. He's seen something similar before.

In the eyes of Elhaym van Houten, blank-eyed as she prepares to destroy.

His pulse quickens. Empty. She's empty. Nothing's home.

Until Jude's voice breaks her out of it. Until Jude muses whether it's puppy love.

"-- Absolutely not!" Loren barks back. He's... offended? As if it were distasteful.

And she meanwhile inspects the blade he's handed her.

'Even for you talented Gebler types', she says, and he's for a moment on alert -- before he, by inches eases back, too aware that she's watching him and watching his every twitch.

It's far too late to jump at the realization that she knows his alliances at this juncture, besides. Even if she is just a Lamb. A Lamb that he's apparently willing to learn from.

But the alternatives -- to become in fact a liability in the flesh, or to ask and be rebuffed by one of his own...

Fine. He'll take this. ...And aren't Lambs meant to be used?

So he takes a breath, in those seconds before his expression trends towards stony, jaw set with all the sobriety a young man not yet twenty years can muster.

"...Do you think I don't know that? Of course I'm not going to master anything overnight, let alone this." Even if he wishes it, if only it could be so.

The world doesn't work that way. He didn't spend his time in Jugend getting the basics of swordplay beaten into him. There were other things he had to do with his strictly limited time. So beyond what he's seen other people do--

even in phantom form his brother had bested him with the blade

-- he's starting from scratch.

He swallows. "Of course. I know that," he says again, gaze fixed on her, as if he could read her mind. Seek after that expression that had been on her face, moments before. "It's a sword. It's meant to kill people." And if you're going to kill people... you should expect to be killed.

Even he knows that.

<Pose Tracker> Jude Moshe has posed.

Absolutely not! shouts Loren as if Jude had just insinuated he goes around lusting after barn animals.

Figuratively speaking.

One (lofty, of course) brow hefts upward. Jude Moshe looks on with all the understanding in the world.

"I understand," he assures, in a way not at all reassuring from its sense of indifference where there should be sympathy to the little glint in those amber eyes that's just slightly too hard to really place.

"Teenage crushes are awkward. You never really know what dumb mistakes your liable to make. All the changes your body's going through...."

And he lets his sentence trail there, in part because his work is done.

And in equal part because there is something else to call upon his attention.

He doesn't really call attention to the fact that he's paying attention to it. The emptiness in Cassidy's gaze, like a hollowed out vessel capable of being anything and nothing at the same time. The gaze of someone capable of doing anything at a moment's notice before they are called back from a place they are so well-acquainted with. It's the same way he doesn't call attention to how he tucks away that label of Gebler that Cassidy uses for Loren, the way he seems to tense like a beast ready to fight or fly at the mention, the way he seeks help like someone throwing beaten pride on the lowest of sacrificial altars. The way Cassidy all but goads him into a position he cannot find himself backing away from.

He doesn't call attention to them at all. After all.

"I'm not really much for making someone honest, if I'm being honest."

What would an indolent noble know about any of that?

With Cassidy dragged back from some unseen precipice, Jude's shoulders lift in a haphazard sort of shrug that indicates just how little mind he cares to commit to any of these proceedings. A hand tucks into his coat pocket a moment later, producing a nice, nickel cigarette case, flicking it open even as Cassidy lays out in very excruciatingly vague detail just what Loren is signing himself up for.

And Loren, of course, adamantly responds with a swallow,

It's a sword. It's meant to kill people.

And Jude, of course, entertains the statement with little more than a small, lukewarm smile like someone partaking in a private joke.

"See? He's so eager he's willing to say just about anything. It's a little adorable," says the noble, who, clearly knowing nothing about what a 'Gebler' is, reaches out to try to pleasantly muss the young man's hair. He'll live. It's Jude's villa, after all.

Maybe.

Amber eyes slide over to Cassidy. For a moment, he is quiet.

And then he offers a lazy, noncommittal smile.

"Well, it's up to you, I guess. What do you say? Want to take some wide-eyed puppy dog under your wing and house train him?"

No, Loren is never escaping his lot in life.

<Pose Tracker> Cassidy Cain has posed.

Loren claims that he is ready, prepared for anything she could throw at him. Long, pale fingers pinch her coconut's straw between them, stirring it around what remains of her cocktail. It is as if whatever it had been hadn't happened at all, when she smiles as brilliantly as she does, suddenly filled with that usual fiery spirit, and willingness to do something because she can, relentless in her pursuit to make her life a little more interesting than it was a day, an hour, or a minute ago.

"Somehow I doubt that, lad," Cassidy tells him. "That you ken. But you dinnae have tae worry, ay? I'm nae out tae kill you."

For now, at least. As she's fond of telling anyone who would listen, she never rules anything out.

"Though you have tae appreciate the sheer irony of this arrangement, ay? You tried tae kill me before, and now you're putting me in a position tae try and make you better at doing the very thing, at some point in our lives. You're lucky, Tommy." Her smile lifts higher on the corners of her mouth. "I do so love tae live dangerously."

She finishes her cocktail at that, and tosses the coconut husk over her shoulder, letting it sail past the railing and land on the sands and brush below. And at the tilt of Jude's golden eyes towards her more verdant ones, she holds his gaze for a heartbeat.

But she pushes away from the rail at that, and tilts the sword she is holding, the tip finding its way into Loren's scabbard. She slides the thing back in with a click, releasing the crossguard. Her hands find the pockets of her cutoffs after, fingers clenching tight on the lining, unseen.

What do you say?

"Ay," she sighs, the sound exaggerated and long-suffering, her head rolling back. "Who am I tae disappoint a lad with a crush?" Like she didn't hear Loren's protests about the fact that he doesn't. "Though he'd have tae be blind, Magnificence, nae tae ken from the start that I only have eyes for you." The last said in a sing-song fashion.

To Loren, she waves a hand. "Come back here in a couple of days, then, and we'll start. Word of advice? Take up an instrument while at it, if you've nae. Piano, guitar. Sommat."

What? Why?

She doesn't explain - as always infuriating when she just expects someone to follow without explaining it. And before he can protest, Beatrice is on him. "Ah, there you are, Beatrice. Send the lad on his way, would you?"