Roleplay

"That was totally unnecessary," Maelin said flatly after Ammon had disappeared back to the kitchen. Charles only shrugged innocently and crossed his arms across his chest.

"What's wrong with having a little fun? No harm done. He is rather attractive, though, isn't he?" Charles's tone was light, his small smile still present.

"That's not the point I'm trying to make, Charles."

"So what's your point?"

"My point is-" Maelin paused and closed her mouth. She didn't really have a solid reason, now that she thought about it. "Just- just stop that. We're here to eat, not for me to watch you try and score some (a)ss."

Charles looked mildly offended. "Score some (a)ss? I'm just having some fun- do you think I'm some manwhore? Are you saying I'm banned from talking to attractive young men- don't give me that look, you know he's attractive- purely because you don't like to watch? You're the one who invited me here. If it makes you uncomfortable I can understand that, but that's all you had to say about it. Don't try and shame into a silent breakfast without any explanation."

Maelin's jaw hung slightly open as she got her (a)ss handed to her on a silver platter. "I- Charles, I didn't mean to-"

"No, just forget about it," he said, waving a hand and leaning back in his chair. "We're here to eat. And plan. Or whatever."

Maelin's expression was haunted with guilt. She hadn't meant to hurt Charles's feelings; she thought he'd just been trying to annoy her. "You can flirt if you want," she muttered, self-consciously scratching the back of her neck.

He shook his head once, leasing a long breath. "Sorry for going off. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't. He's cute. I acted. I forget you're not quite used to that, I suppose."

"No, really. I just thought it was a joke, then it wasn't and... yeah, I guess I'm tired."

"Don't think he was very interested in me anyways."

"Yeah, I- wait, what? You saw him smiling. He's totally down."

"Don't think so. I think he was more-" he faded off as Ammon approached the table with their food, and gave her a knowing look. She shot back a confused look to refute it. When the tea clinked down against the table she scooped it up quickly, relishing in the slight burn of the scalding ceramic against her palms. Charles took a sip of his coffee and hummed in delight, instantly perking up a bit more with the rush of caffeine. He raised an eyebrow at Maelin when the waiter mentioned her name as if to make a point that she didn't quite catch.

She slid her eyes over and upwards towards the waiter and held his gaze, slowly taking a sip of her tea. She put the mug down and crossed her arms on the table, maintaining her stare with a somewhat smug smile on her face. There was an awkward silence that lasted about 10 seconds before Charles huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes.

"Her name's Maelin," he said, to which Maelin's face dropped to a scowl and she kicked him hard under the table. He didn't even flinch, giving her a dry look. "And she loves to be mysterious."

@boneshadow22 scuse me how dare you suggest a couple thousand miles away being a viable excuse to s l a c k only PEASANTS slack smh

As he neared the table he noticed the tense expressions on their faces and almost wondered if he should turn around and leave, but since they already saw him coming he went ahead and rested their drinks on the table.

The Egyptian tried again to capture this mysterious girl's name and for a moment he almost believed the answer wasn't true. Ammon stood for a moment as if calculating before finally saying," Hmm, Maelin... and Charles." The memory of them all standing on the boat docks crept into mind, when again, he had been chasing after her name.

Ammon grinned as the bell in the back of the kitchen chimmed," I guess thats your food", and trotted back towards the kitchen. Here he found a platter with Charle's chocolately coffee cake and Maelin's steaming apple pancakes. He was so close to just eating the food himself, but since they were sitting right across from the kitchen he doubted that'd be a good idea and he already knew this Maelin chic would probably pummel him.

Taking the tray he strode back over and carelessly grabbed the hot plate almost burning his fingers to little blackened stumps. He hurriedly dropped it down in front of her with a small clank and a yelp. Ammon was going to try and pretend that he didn't just do that as an angry red fluster crossed the bridge of his nose. He was not as slick as he pretended to be in that dark outfit of his.

Thankfully, Charle's cake didn't need to be heated up, so he had a much better time laying that down on the table.

Ammon imagined what later tonight would be like when he snuck into the candle makers shop to... well you know. Briefly he looked up at the passerbys and almost thought he saw a slip of yellow, or maybe that was just in his head.

@flightfight312

Maelin was almost too busy devouring her food to notice Ammon's mishap, but she did take note of the slightly SLIGHTLY (very) adorable blush that flushed his skin. Somewhere in the back of her mind she made the deduction that he wasn't super experienced with working as a waiter, or maybe he was just a bit forgetful.

She restrained a very unladylike moan that itched in her throat as she bit down, releasing all the cinnamon-brown sugar goodness. Charles also looked like he was in ecstasy with his coffee cake, which suddenly made him understand why Maelin was so insistent that they come to this bar specifically.

She cursed quietly, eyes rolling slightly back (which was a tad dramatic, but she felt the dish deserved it). "Goddamn, this is good," she muttered, giving Ammon a nod. "Please tell your chef I'm in love. Goddamn," she repeated again. Charles chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"She's not wrong," he agreed, nodding. He ventured to steal a small slice of apple from the corner of her piece of pancake, at which she actually growled. He winked and forked his scavenged prize into his mouth, humming at the delicious burst of flavors. "Oh, yeah. That's good sh*t."

A while later after Ammon had disappeared back to the kitchen (you should go BACK TO THE KITCHEN-) Maelin and Charles had slowed down in their destructive paths to a point where they could eat and plan at the same time.

"So," Charles started off, taking a sip of his coffee to build the tension. "Do you have any idea, really, what you're doing tonight?"

"I have it covered," she assured him with a small shrug, swallowing a piece of apple.

"So, what, then? You're just going to go in guns blazing? Take down this dude?"

"I mean, he's a rich old b*astard. I don't think guns will be necessary. I'll make it look like an accident, maybe. Bring back enough proof to claim the reward."

"Just be careful. Rich old b*stards tend to be paranoid, and therefore have more security."

"Good point. But really, how hard could this be? We chose one of the calmest people on the list."

"I'm just saying better safe than sorry, you know? And maybe take some Night-Nights just in case." He could never resist marketing his own products, even if she's using them for free.

"Fine," she chuckled, having to agree that something like that could be useful in the plan she had in her head. She finished off her apple pancake and licked the remnants of the sauce from her fork with a sigh. Charles was also polishing his own breakfast off, and finished the dregs of his coffee.

"Alright," he said with a nod, setting his empty mug down while she drank the rest of her tea. "Let's pay and split. I'm running a little late."

"You go ahead. I'll wait for the bill," she said with a wave of her hand. Or I'll just put it on the tab. That might be easier."

Charles new better than to argue with her about who pays for breakfast; it didn't really matter anyways, since they basically shared everything, including a bank account. "Thanks. I'll see you for lunch," he said, pushing out his chair and standing, giving her a wave as he headed out the door.

@boneshadow22

After watching the two viciously shovel food down their throats Ammon decided it was better he take off towards the kitchen before it started to get too intimate. Which, it was already getting questionable. "Thanks, I'll tell Rirri that", he mumbled with a small laugh, mostly because he was a bit scared she'd gnaw his fingers off.

Just before he passed through the swinging kitchen door he heard Maelin growl at Charles," maybe she really is a wesen...", he thought in a slightly joking manner.

In the kitchen, Vincent was wiping down the pots and pans used to cook the two's meals. The chefs had cleared out and actually trusted Vincent alone in the kitchen this time. It was a wonder he had no idea what he could do. Zauberbeists were known to be handsome and cruel, but Vincent was always kind even though he had a prickly attitude sometimes. No offense but Ammon didn't find him overly charming either. Vincent never seemed to care about his appearance which Ammon could never understand, especially his hair. They'd had many arguments about it since he started working here. They were also known to be power hungry and backstabbing, but again, unlike his brother, Vincent always seemed to be accustomed to just getting by. Ammon wondered how he couldn't know, or maybe if a Grimm had turned him human. Either way, he was about the nicest zauber he had ever met.

Shedding a sly glance, Ammon stalked towards the back of the kitchen where all the staff kept their things in their little cubbies. In the back room tucked under his knotted clothes were files about Kungsten.

With the little time he had to spare he pulled them out and started to read. His eyes scanned over all the records he had found on him. The man was older than dirt and worked in a candle shop for Christ's sake, but he had some heavy pockets. Ammon wanted to know why anyone would want him dead, but he figured he'd have to find out tonight when he snuck into his house.

After a brief moment of rehearsing the address in his head, he tucked the file under his clothes and hurried out to see if Maelin and Charles were done. There he saw Maelin sat at the table by herself, the plates in front of her frighteningly squeaky clean.

Slowly he pushed open the kitchen door and walked over," You guys didn't have to lick the plates you know", he said almost afraid to touch the plate for fear they actually did.

@flightfight312

Maelin chuckled, stacking Charles's plate on top of her own and moving the silverware to the top plate. "Can't help it," she said with a shrug. "Gotta do what you gotta do, right?"

She handed him the stack of plates, standing up from her seat. "If you don't mind, just put the bill on my tab. I'll come by and pay it off in a few days." When she had a bit more money to spare, that is. Again, she and Charles were kind of banking on this job paying off well enough to pad their pockets. Charles's job down at the docks paid fairly, but not far above minimum wage. She brought in some extra cash from odd jobs, but it wasn't enough that they felt totally secure all the time. Their apartment could do with some repairs, for one. And while they'd both been fortunate enough to escape major injuries, doctors were well known to scam patients for more than if they'd up and sold their organs instead of bothered to try and fix them with what limited medicine had been developed. If something were to happen, it would be nice to know that it wouldn't send them spiraling into the streets.

"And for your troubles," she said with a nod, reaching in her pocket and pulling out a few coins. Her hand brushed against his waist slightly as she reached forward and dropped them into his apron pocket, seeing as his hands were pretty full. She pulled back, clearing her throat and forcing down her awkward flush. That was awkward... and Charles would definitely have roasted me hard, she thought, metaphorically hitting herself over the head.

She cleared her throat again and pushed her seat in with one hand. "I'd better... um... go. Thanks again for the food. Or, thank the chef. Whatever. Yeah." Before she could embarrass herself further, she skirted out the door and headed down the street, looking up at the cloudy sky in exasperation. She really needed to work on her people skills.


@boneshadow22

yes I'm late responding my bad heheh I couldn't un-potato very quickly today
and yes its also short my bad again
you said everett's squad is swinging by that afternoon, right? do u wanna like play through that or should we let it go unsaid that there was a meet-up with some influential peoples?

"Sure", Ammon replied making a mental note to mark down the new meal. He guessed that she might even come back more often now that she had a progressing tab before he suddenly spurted," Actually, this one is on the house, as long as you promise to come back more often."

Before he knew it she had reached out and dropped some valuable coinage into his pocket, a blush rising across her cheeks. For a moment he felt a bit dazed, wHY WAS SHE SO CUTE??? His heart basically did a trapeze in his chest and his breath caught tight in his throat. Nobody had ever made him feel this way before, so why now? Why the girl who kidnapped him? Seriously dude? Recalling Charles and her's little hideout, she maybe could have used this money, he really couldnt take it.

"Its really no trouble, unless you want it to be", he couldn't help but grin, it was a lame flirt, but he couldn't fight the giddy feelings gushing out of him. His smile hurt from gazing at her blush. He moved back a little, the brush of her fingers on his waist lingering just a little and then she was up an rushing out the door, curls bouncing as she went.

"Wait, Maelin, please take this!", he rushed fowards with his hands digging around in his apron and silently cursing all the stupid pens he'd stored in here just to pull pranks on Vincent whenever he couldnt find one. Silently, like he had never wished for anything in the world, he wished he would see her again, like a school boy wishes on the pennies he'd throw in the fountain. After a moment, he knew he'd pay her back.

@flightfight312

She was obviously thankful that Ammon would suggest that her meal was on the house, but there was no way that she would let that slide. She'd come by later and pay nonetheless, but she was a little too flustered to suggest anything other than that she had to go.

Only a few seconds after she'd crossed the doorway and regretted her life decisions, she heard his shout.

Was he really doing this again? Following her? She spun around with a raised eyebrow as he tumbled out of the bar door, still digging in his pockets.

"Are you really follo- chRIST," she yelped as he crashed into her, her eyes widening in shock. She grabbed hold of his biceps in an instinctual move to stabilize herself, all her training in terms of taking a fall conveniently escaping her thoughts at the moment.

An awkward moment later she coughed and uncurled her fingers from his sleeves, stepping a healthy distance away from him and smoothing her hair down. "Uh. Sorry, what? Did I leave something?" She hadn't really brought anything with her that morning, so she didn't really know what he could have that she needed.

When he pulled out the change, she frowned. "What, you not allowed to take tips? I saw the sign at the bar, you know. 'Tips accepted'. It's not even that much," she chuckled. "Just a few pence. Technically you'd be insulting me if you didn't. I'm just being courteous."

Before she could reconsider, she added, "And thanks for the offer for the free food, but I'm going to have to decline. Like I said, I'll be around to pay in a few days. Again, thanks, but no thanks."

@boneshadow22

Ammon's feet skidded across the pavement slick from the early morning. With a gasp of surprise he barreled into her almost knocking them both into the puddles of the street. Silently he willed a piano to fall on him, because again, he had chased her out of the pub like a chicken with its head cut off. He really had to stop doing that.

"Oh pfft, sorry", was all he could say as a cheeky smile appeared on his brown face. Part of him was happy that he kept working out, she really gripped his arm until she finally let go and backed away before kindly rejecting his offer.

"Alright...", he mumbled squinting his dark eyes a bit. It did make sense to accept the tip, that's what you do when you work at a restaurant right? Still he knew she could have probably used it, but was thankful anyways. After a moment he inhaled and finally said," Well, thank you, but really you'd be insulting me if you didn't let me give you one meal on the house, I did just chase you through the street, again." Plus he knew how happy Rirri had been to whip up his best dishes.

- - - - - -

Everett passed out of the shop, his business fellows tilting their hats as they walked away with full stomachs. At first they had been skeptical of the shabby old pub his brother worked at, but he told them to wait until they'd tasted the food. It was a shame nobody knew how scrumptious the little place was other than the drunkards who frequented it in the night.

Through out the meal they had discussed the growing business in the ports and how there was a new shark buying up a lot of trading companies. Nobody knew his name, but they knew he was rich and powerful and no one had ever declined one of his deals yet. Even people who had big plans for their stocks seemed to fall weak at the knees for his business.

Everett had wondered if maybe his new client knew anything about the man. His new client, was a rich old chap and peculiar too. You could never tell what was going through his head behind those dark beady green eyes. Either way, Everett had heard he was a fair man, and ran a respectable business that stretched to export products, to oil, and even show business. Later this evening he was supposed to be meeting him for supper although Everett was rather accustomed to dining with clients lately he felt that he wished he had someone to help him during the process. Everett was good with making deals, but lately with all that's been going on business dealings had not been as usual and Everett was afraid the company would suffer for it.

Memories flashed inside his head, remembering staring into his own reflection and peering into a haunting rotted face. Just the thought made him gulp audibly as a cold feeling suddenly washed over him. However, letting his mind wonder to other matters he thought of the girl he had run into the other day. She seemed strong willed and Everett had wondered if she partook in any kind of business dealings, she certainly seemed the type. Although, how should he know, he only ran into her for a few... If he ever saw her again he thought he should really ask her to dinner.

Part of his stomach flipped upside down and the omelet he had just munched on encroached on his throat. What? Ask her on a date? HA, good one Everett. Then again that cocky business man part of him argued, Well, why not? You can score a million dollar deal but you cant ask a pretty girl to dinner? Surely you can do better than that... Suddenly, Everett felt uncomfortable with his own thoughts, well what if he never saw her again? Doubt she'd want to after he destroyed her delicate fabric. Believe him, Everett knew about quality clothes, glancing down at his steamed button down and slacks his heart broke slightly at imagining tomato squirted all over them.

@flightfight312

Maelin nodded slowly, as if in consideration. "Well, my apologies for insulting you, then. But I'm afraid my point stands. If I were any other of your clients, you wouldn't exactly be offering me anything on the house. I think we should play fair." She didn't exactly want special treatment for what she felt was no reason at all. A lot of her mentality came from growing up in a man's world, having to work her way past prejudice and men trying to exchange money or positions for "favors". Not that she thought Ammon was trying to con her or be sleazy, but she felt more comfortable knowing that she was in control and there was nothing she owed anyone.

"Don't take it personally," she said with a small smile. "I really do appreciate the offer. I'll see you tomorrow, most likely. Got a long night ahead. Have a good one." She stepped backwards down the sidewalk for a moment, as if to make sure he wasn't going to follow her again, then turned and continued forwards, melting into the small throng of people out and about, perusing the shops in the early hours of the morning.

---

"And please do come back soon," Isla said sweetly, her musical voice ringing softly through the store. The woman across the desk returned her smile, laying her newly purchased dress over her forearm and closing her clutch before exiting the store into the streets. Isla sighed, leaning onto the counter in a rather unladylike slouch, breaking from her perfect posture. After a moment of rest, she straitened back up, and her corset stopped digging into her ribcage. Yes, corset. It was mostly for back support, but it did also manage to shape her figure a bit more delicately, so it was a win-win scenario.

This morning she was wearing a more lightweight dress than the one she'd had her little "accident" in. (For the record, said dress was beautiful once more and stain-free after a few treatments with heavy-duty remedies.) This one was a pretty lavender color crafted of silk that draped down to just past her knees. It was almost a little plain, but it was plenty comfortable and allowed her to work without being sweaty and miserable all day.

When her aunt retired, the little dress shop aptly named "Silk and Chiffon" passed to Isla, her only female relative of a younger generation. It was lucky that Isla was interested in such things, and rather had a knack for it as well. Her aunt still visited every once in a while, but for the most part, it was just Isla and one or two other women who worked in the shop with her. They handmade gowns and dresses for any purpose: housework, formal dances, travel, etc. They had to import a lot of material from China and India via ships, for they produced many of the finest silks on the market.

She enjoyed her job immensely. She'd always been a talented seamstress since she'd learned from her mother, and refined her skills through her stay with her aunt. It didn't pay too badly, either. Most of the women who came in were members of the upper class, looking for the newest trends to deck themselves out with. Mainly fur coats, cocktail dresses, and the like. Isla had those as well, though in her heart she preferred less slinky clothing that she thought made women look more like snakes than they often actually were. But nonetheless, she put her soul into each dress that she made, even if she wouldn't have worn it herself. While they were a modest shop, every woman, if they knew what was good for them, would at least have a look through their boutique.

She was also a good saleswoman; she had that look about her that made her easy to trust. Obviously, her looks were probably part of it, but that paired with her gentle voice and easygoing manner made sales easy. She could make anyone feel valued and appreciated with just a few words. A lot of it was part of experience and practice in sales and trading, but a good portion was that she was just a wholesome person. She'd never been raised to be anything but.

"Isla," one of the other saleswomen called from the back. "I'm halfway through a gown and I'm out of black silk, darling. Would you mind running to the docks? I'm fairly sure we have a shipment in today."

"I do think you're right," she called back, already grabbing her white shawl and wrapping it around herself. It was a little nippy out that morning. "I'll see what they have."

"Thank you," the woman called from the other room, and Isla could hear her sigh of relief. She knew how stressful it could be to run out of silk in the midst of a project. She stepped out of the doorway, the door already propped open by a pot of lavender flowers, and onto the cobblestone streets, headed towards the docks.

@boneshadow22 we are on a roll brother

Ammom couldn’t help but feel a bit refreshed by her genuinity. Although most other people he dealt with in the under armpit of London would have happily accepted, without some thanks, it felt nice the way she put it. It wasn’t like everyone he’d met was truly dreadful, but maybe that’s why he found her so fascinating, because to him, she really wasn’t like anyone else he had met. Especially someone caught up in the same business as him.

“Alright, I understand”, he gave her a smile and raised his hand up for a small wave.”See you”, this time, he didn’t make any more moves, and she easily disintegrated into into the crowd within the next few seconds. Replaced with the many faces of London milling about this time of the day.

Under his breath he mumbled,” Khod balak men nafsk.” Take care of yourself.

Now, he would finish up work and head back to his apartment to prepare for tonight. Curious, Maelin said something was going on for her too, but the thought never crossed his mind that they would meet again so soon.

- - -
“Thank you, have a nice day”, Everett said genially to the coach driver and passed him a few pounds plus a little extra. As soon as he had swung the door open the sounds of boats’ longing horns in the distance could be heard as they made their journeys miles and miles away. He stepped out into the street, feeling the bite of the cold on his pale cheeks. His dark hair was slicked back so the wind couldn’t rumple his delicately curated appearance. Today was an important day, as every day was for a business man, or any man Everett thought.

After a brisk moment of fixing the navy bow tie clasped around his neck he started for the docks bustling in the shipyard. The dark blue of the Thames glared back at him seeming depthless and endless as it stretched across the horizons. (Ah I only just now realized that there no ocean around them akjdjshd stoopid, but I hope this makes sense chica im sorry hh)

Men with defined coarse arms tugged on the thick ropes and knotted them into expert sailor knots. Their skins were dark from the sun despite the usual cloudy and misty atmosphere. The cold winds snaked their way through and billowed the sails following a loud bell clanging in the distance.The workers toted and heaved the heavy loads of crates packed with goods from all over the world. Each box could have honed anything from fine silks to foreign spices and more.

The trade business was always a lucrative one for London. What with one of the best navies in the world and as the saying goes, the sun never sets on the British Empire. However, despite all of the hustle and bustle surrounding the shipyards, Everett knew these men were breaking their backs for what little pay they could manage. At the time the economy in London was going awry, so while in America they were celebrating the end of the war, England was still in the midst of the suffering as America later would be too. At this time inflation was at the highest it had ever been and shone starkly on the worn faces of some of the workers.

Everett never had to do very much hard labor, but he respected the way they worked and he respected his own workers as well. Many Londoners continued their business and never let their smiles fade despite their hardship. Everett always hoped to be that kind of business man as well.

At this point he wasn’t sure where to look. He supposed he could check on his goods and managers as well as ask around about new business men, especially the new very notorious one he’d been hearing so much about. ‘Business as usual’, Everett sighed his jaw tightening as his serious air thickened.

@flightfight312