Sixteen

"Oh," Serp said when Sebastian finished explaining what steamworks was like. "Something like what happens after someone eats too much pea soup and then goes bathing."

Whatever sat in stunned silence.

"Not quite," Sebastian said diplomatically.

"Okay."

"I wonder about these exoskeleton things," Sebastian continued and glanced at Whatever. "And all these PPC things...?"

"Particular Projectile Cabbage," Whatever said. "Really... cool."

"Cool?" Serpentine asked.

"Hey, beats me. I call them nifty."

"Nifty," Serp said, having learned a new word.

Wagging. Yes, wagging is good.

Agueda gave Baskerville's belly an energetic rub and hoped the creature would fall asleep and that she could sneak off.

Jaina's mind continued wandering a countryside a lá Thomas Kincaid -- that is, until the word "whoreador" penetrated her foggy thoughts. It took awhile for her to recover from that.

A withdrawal headache pinched her temples and drew her back to herself. She exhaled (like a startled horse, only less comely in the execution) and ground her teeth to nubbins as the entire face contracted. With a little effort, she was able to pry her left eye open and mostly focus on Suitov. "For the love of things with heartbeats tell me you have caffeine!" she hissed. The hand that wasn't holding her eye open attempted to grab the gentleman's lapels together for emphasis, as if any were needed.

A calico kitten landed on the counter with a fuzzy sort of *splat* as Jaina uttered the name of her required substance. From the yearning look in its yellow eyes, either the kitten thought Suitov looked rattish -- holies forfend! -- or else it meant to second the request for caffeine. Didn't it know caffeine was very bad for kitties*?

* like Weft! -- the soon-to-be-smecked impertinent author

"Nifty," Serp said upon eyeing his Killer Bunny template. "But why do I have a bunny?"

"Why are we even playing Furry Pirates?" Whatever asked, staring at Sebastian. The half-elf wasn't exactly Mendel, but the gamewalker had a feeling Sebbie might have plans way that Mendel might have appreciated. A lot.

"We're not," Sebastian grinned luminously and scribbled up a ferret for Whatever, which he then gave to Whatever. "Drink up on caffeine, won't you, dear boy? You'll need it for this. You on the other hand," the swashbuckler said and pointed at Serp, "don't."

Whatever stared at the sheet. It really wasn't Furry Pirates, it was... oh! He suddenly realised what was going on. Instead of grinning like he had been inflicted with Foiblemind, he grabbed another can of Jolt. "Coco?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at both of the other men.

Serp frowned and seemed to be struggling with something still. "Bonbon?"

It was news to Suitov that he had lapels. He suspected wardrobe sabotage, and there was only one person in the vicinity with both the skill and the stealth to affect such a feat.


"This guy, do you love him?" Weft asked.

Pensive, Dixie drummed her black-polished fingernails on the bench's stone arm. Then she did the same with her toenails and the path. "Ai doan say ai do, an ai doan say ai no," she said.

"Mmm," murmured a dreamy Weft, as though this were the most profound thing in the world.

"Ah think ai do, and that be Jah's truth," said Dixie.

"Ayr... I mean all right, so the answer's obvious," Weft said, "follow your heart. There's nothing more important than love."

"You is a good friend, Rasta man," said Dixie.


It took a split decisecond for Suitov to take one look at Weft's mind and decide he wasn't touching that with a two-handed set of obsolete books.

Two... hands... yes. He eyed the one that threatened to hoist him off his feet, and said "No doubt we have caffeinated things of some description."

A system of magic that for simplified purposes functions very like telekinesis is a useful thing. He might have held a shield in much the same manner as he now brandished this green ring-pull tin.

"Ordinarily I would move you mountains," Suitov hammed shamelessly, "but this may have to dew." The tin twitched, trying to be a more exciting prey than the bonbon.


"Bonbon?" Baskerville asked. Now somebirdie mentioned it, he was hungry. (Surprised?)

The dog put his chin lovingly upon Agueda's knee. Clearly she had not only forgiven him, she had chosen him over the waterlogged wereweed. Victory was his and it was complete. Oh, but those scritchies felt nice.

"SUGAR RUSH!" Whatever yelled, fist to the sky - well, roof - and canines showing.

Serp looked mildly harried.

"Singer, take his caffeine away," Sebastian said, lowering the rulebook he had just used to cover his face from the sudden movement.

Serp looked at Sebastian. "I don't have a switchblade."

"You don't need a switchblade. You're... you."

"Bonbon?"

"I can see how this might be difficult," Sebastian continued with a sigh and glanced - rather apprehensively - at the giggling Whatever, "but if he keeps on doing that, just smack him upside the head." Pause. "Gently."

The berserker bard gave Whatever a casual look. "Okay."

"Sugar?" Whatever asked.

"Hey, Whatever. You wake up hearing 'Coco needs a bath.' The guy with the "I Riff, You Lead"-shirt and the long coat has a sponge in his hand."

Whatever's eyes widened. "I get my pirate gear out and bounce at him."

Serp listened, interested.

"All right," Sebastian said. "He takes you toward the bathroom, where there's supposedly a bathtub full of water. You pass Bonbon."

"I kidnap Bonbon with me?" Whatever suggested.

"I get out my switchblade," Serp said - and brained Whatever.

Gently.

Sebastian smacked himself with the rulebook.

And Agueda heard a voice say "Excuse me, girl."

Weft was leaning, the picture of mysterious cool, against a pillar of the back porch. "If I were you," he said calmly, "I'd take my hands off that creature and step away. It's a demon."

A few minutes earlier, Weft had woken as if from a trance (but he hadn't been praying...) to find himself on a stone bench, alone and with a sore head. This was unnerving. This made him cross. When Weft was scared and upset he liked, in keeping with his religious masters' rules on charity, to disseminate it fairly.

That the truth of his words was echoed throughout his thoughts only served to make his overall impact even more dramatic and slick. Weft had an elegant style when he wished to.

"Don't call me girl!" snapped Agueda, a little more harshly than she'd intended, (well, it had been a very strange day, all things considered) and kept rubbing Baskerville's tummy.

"If it's a demon I'd rather keep on its good side. Well, it's better side at least."

It was then that she remembered why Weft's face seemed familiar. She tried to keep a straight face and thought how much more she preferred him in a dress with kitty ears and a bell. And those strappy sandals. You could tell by the way he kept his weight slightly on his toes that he'd been born for heels.

"Demons don't have good sides, lass," Weft said in tones approximating gruff impatience (just a few degrees too high to be really convincing). "And believe me, I've slain a few." Which was also true.

Agueda's fingers found a particular spot to the side of Baskerville's flank, causing his hind leg to drum involuntarily.

"The one you're fondling is especially dangerous, as it happens. Quite the killer." Weft examined a nail then folded his arms again in a you-don't-know-the-half-of-it sort of manner.

The coffee crawled out of the teacup and requested mouse. Or it may have been the other way around.

Nothing was certain. Memory was intransigent, or transient, or impermeable, or one of those words. In any case, it simply was not there. The coffee reflected on this, as it combed the creamer out of its fur.

"It's what I would've done!" Serp protested.

"It's what you did," Sebastian contested.

"It's normal," the brawnier specimen mumbled.

"That's to be expected," the halfbreed pointed out and rummaged through Whatever's satchel...

Five minutes later:

"How does he fit all that in there?" Serp asked as he watched Sebastian pull out stuff from Whatever's satchel with a delirious grin on his face. The halfbreed knew the perfect use for stuff like this.

"Don't know," Sebastian said and placed yet another can of liquid caffeine on a little mountain of cans, candy bars, noodle packages, rulebooks, Cattletek miniature packs and decks and a number of cases, in which were disklike things. The cases and disks had cheesy names on them, like Helloweenie, Dork Tranquilizer, Grrrrlowar and - the best ever as far as Serp was concerned - Withering Lows. He couldn't quiet explain it, but it was the general look of the little booklet in the case...

Whatever, on the other hand, remained quite like his name: in a dubious state of unconsciousness.

"Oh, you are a lifesaving god!" Jaina's hand touched Suitov's as she grasped the can. For no obvious reason, she blushed, suddenly acutely aware of her taped-together jacket and scuffed boots.

Mai eyed the Djew from a diagonal. Her head-tilt leveled out as she apparently decided the contents were acceptable. She jumped for Jaina's hand but missed. As usual.

Suitov decided that if serving drinks offered this level of payoff, he was in the wrong line of work. "You exaggerate, I'm certain," he semi-grinned... He'd ignore the cat if Jaina was.

"I... uh..." Jaina finally settled on swallowing hard and staring at the seams of her boots, where she had applied black marker in an attempt to make them look less shoddy. She couldn't bring herself to remove her hand though. His felt nice against hers.

Suitov helpfully allowed the moment to linger.

"Thank you," Jaina finally got out. After that, she couldn't think what else to say, so she just looked at Suitov out of the corner of one eye. Had she known how fetching she looking doing that, she would have stopped immediately, but she had no clue.

The cat gave up and went to sulk in a sunbeam several meters away.

"You are always welcome." He gave in and finally disengaged his hand, then finding nothing to do with it, straightened his hair.

Jaina nearly dropped the Djew without his hand to hold it. She juggled it awkwardly until she quite caught the jostled can. That accomplished, she unconsciously leaned a bit toward Suitov. A loose bit of black electrical tape on her jacket pocket occupied her free hand. If she was this antsy just standing here, perhaps she didn't need caffeine.

"Glass?" Suitov asked, courteous even while awkward.

"Hm? Oh, uh, yes, that'd be good." Jaina glanced around, realising that much of the inn's trappings were outside and the rest probably should be. "I was going to help you move tables, wasn't I? I'm sorry." She kicked herself. How could she forget anything about this charming gentleman? Idiot Jade.

"The easy part is more or less finished with," he said, surveying the few remaining chairs, "and my colleague is organising the sanding fatigues -- unless he's distracted."

There were glasses, or he wouldn't have offered, and the dust they had amassed may very well have qualified as antique. Suitov picked one out and held it. It cleaned and sterilised itself. Not that he was... all right, he was sort of showing off. As an afterthought, he chilled it to match the can (unless the latter was superheated by now, which was a possibility) and held it out.

"Colleague?" she asked distractedly, adding "Oh, thank you" when she remembered. Magic didn't unduly shock Jaina anymore, but that someone would perform some just for her convenience sure did. That Suitov did it precisely to impress her never occurred to the naive woman.

Her hands felt warm and vaguely sticky. Her face just felt warm. No doubt her hairline had completely faded into her reddened face by now. Jaina reached for the glass, then had an idea and impulsively used it.

"Would you, ah, have a drink with me?" she asked more pointedly than she wanted. "If you're not busy managing," she added in a fit of self-consciousness. Were her boots always this rough around the toe?

The near-empty room was surveyed. "For you, Ms Jade," he pronounced with not a little goofy pomposity, "I shall make the time."

The shelf of mysterious bottles didn't seem to dare argue, as the nearest of them turned out to be something resembling bitter apple. He was somewhat glad of the breathing space.

Jaina grinned and pulled one hand up to her face. Oh yes, she was overheating nicely. She chuckled a bit giddily and hid her gaze from behind a clammy finger. "Okay."

After a moment's pure glee, Jaina decided some conversation (and seating) was in order. She grabbed a vacant chair and nearly straddled it before opting to sit frontwise. "So how long have you run this joint -- er, place?"

Pouring, twisting, swirling, drinking, building makeshift tubular bells: a virtue of the drinking glass is its provision of activity for idle or nervous hands. For a quick distraction, it can even be dropped.

Suitov, however, merely leant against the bar (with some caution) and held his still.

"I'm not certain I run it yet. Bought the place a week ago, and as you can probably see, it's desperate for renovation. In fact, the builders are due sometime this morning. After that, perhaps we will officially open."

"The place could use some paint," Jaina offered diplomatically. "I wasn't aware the place was pre-grand opening, I guess. It does explain a lot." She popped her Djew open and poured the glass, rather than put her foot further in her mouth. Djew tasted much better, as she quickly discovered.

"Some paint, some plaster, some bulldozing." He grinned in an I-love-a-challenge sort of way. "We scarcely abut the beaten track out here, so how so many people have come and gone, I do not know. Apparently there must be something to the rumour that the place itself attracts lost travellers. I had wondered if that was a legend."

He thought about the other legend. Oh, wouldn't it be fun if that were true as well?


With co-operation from the divine Mizzes Jade and Ree, and helpful(?) interruptions from the evil aristocratic nitwit otherwise known as Suitov.

"Lass isn't much better. My name is Agueda."

She had turned to look him in the eye but, not really knowing what else to say, she returned to rubbing Baskerville's belly. As she turned she noticed Kerak was awake, and was being prodded by some squamus processes.

"Puh!" squeaked Bowman, as he ran around Kerak's knee-cap.

"Why does it say flammable?" Serp asked, backing away.

"Agidda," Weft tried. "Right. Fine. Whatever. So you're telling me this - this killer demon dog doesn't worry you at all!"

Baskerville gave him a dreadful grin, all the more irritating for being upside down. How could such a wuvvly wed-eyed puppygog be evil? his posture seemed to say.

Jaina grinned idiotically. Abut! Some days she had the emotional gravity of a five-year-old. "Well, I'm here, but I'm not sure that says much. I keep finding myself at places somewhat like this, regardless of their hours or hazards."

She gleefully glugged her Djew, finding that if she showed Suitov her profile, she could tip her head back while keeping one green eye on his marvelous greys.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I don't know what to think."

She let out a long suffering sigh and, after a few short moments, stopped rubbing Baskerville's tummy. She kept a cautious hand nearby in case the creature became enraged.

"And you're not helping."

If she seemed overly frustrated, it was because she sensed the tilt that Weft was exerting, most likely without realising it. It seemed like some very strong or possibly permanent bond; logical, informative and strict. She had also just remembered she'd tweaked his hiney back in the inn.

"Oh, I'm fairly sure I can catch the roof if it threatens to collapse on you," Suitov grinned. It was a variation on something he'd said to Weft several hours ago. Less callous.

Baskerville licked Agueda's hand once or twice, and wagged hopefully.

"I'm not here to help you," Weft said. "I'm honour bound, I suppose, to let you know. But it doesn't bother me much either way if he immolates you or you get married and have puppies. That's the thing about free will, you see. I can tell you, but whether you believe me, that's up to you."

Jaina blushed once again. "You'd save me from injury? I haven't forgotten how I once tripped and banged myself up something fierce, and you helped indoors and into a seat. It was very kind of you."

More blushing. "I'm not used to someone of your stature helping someone of mine. A girl doesn't exactly project a genteel aura in faded jeans and -- and stuff." Jaina wiggled her toes inside her left boot, where the insole had peeled away, instead of continuing to mention her wardrobe malfunctions.

Mai saw something wiggle and ran to check it out. She couldn't decide if it was caffeine or rodent, but either way it had a faint scent of some dairy product. Both possibilities interested the cat, who fumbled her way to a tabletop and there pressed herself as flat as possible.

"You've behaved like the perfect honour-bound gentleman so far in alerting me to this. Consider yourself relieved of your duties."

She was quite interested to see if he would stay. Whether or not she liked to admit it, Agueda was rather scared and confused about exactly what was sprawled belly-up at her feet. It might help to have someone who knew more about these things around in case something happened.

On the other hand, he was pretty annoying.