Roofrats 3

"They've been intimidating the owner of that weapon shop over there. For money, I assume, or some other disagreement. The poor boy's terrified. But they always have someone watching him. We can't get close without a confrontation, and we do not risk the public."

She sighed. "Normally I wouldn't ask this from an alien. Do you think you can distract him when he gets back up here?"

"And you do what?" Nico would have preferred to talk to the shop owner in question herself, and tried to win a bit time - and being a bit skeptical in this situation, for whatever reason, seemed quite natural, anyway.

Wirin didn't answer for a moment because she was vaulting over to Nico's rooftop.

Landing, she said "I'll do the rest. Just keep him talking. Or whatever else, eh? Here he comes." She nipped out of sight behind one of the modestly-sized vats Mr. Distiller kept on his rooftop.

Weft appeared seconds later over the edge. "Got rid of them," he grinned. "Oh. Weren't you watching?" he added, looking at how Nico was standing.

Not good enough. She was glaring at selfsame vat an called, "What rest?" at it.

There was a curse and a schink from behind the vat.

Weft darted in front of Nico and, somewhat wide-eyed, motioned for her to step back.

She moved sideways - in a direction that brought her not closer to Wirin, but further away from the roof edge, thankyouveeerymuch, and continued in an agressively chipper tone, "Hey, how about we talk it over? Drinks are on me!" The people in this city was starting to get on her nerves a bit. She was light on her feet, prepared to dodge an attack.

"Look, I'm not here to fight. Why don't you come out?" called Weft, buffing his nails on his sleeve.

From behind the drum, Wirin made an explicit suggestion regarding his father.

Weft exuded distaste. It didn't shake the arrogance from his voice. "For shame! You can't talk like that in front of a visitor."

The woman's head came into view briefly. "You're making a mistake," she hissed at Nico.

...and in return got something halfway between a chuckle and and exasperated sigh.

"I often do. Question is now, which kind now."

"Question is, just what is going on here anyway?" Weft folded his arms. "You've got about ten seconds to get out here and tell me, you Mios scurf."

Mios, which rhymed with engross, wasn't a name (word? district?) Nico had heard before.

Or scurf, for that matter. Nico put in, "She said she's the law and you a fake and a killer. What you say?"

Weft glanced at her. "I am a killer. I have my doubts about the rest."

She fell back into interworld - "oh, drat, this might get complicated" - and stepped forward, a bit closer to getting between Weft and Wirin.

"Nico, don't get involved, please," Weft sighed.

"Stop threatening her," said Wirin, peering out.

"Why would he?" Nico was confused, and more than willing to spread it around.

"He's a killer -- he admitted it."

"Look, give it a break. You're not with any police, you're one of Mios's enforcers. Probably not even a high-up."

"Go lick yourself, you grey bimbo!" Wirin had looked as though she was about to come out in the open, but had now paused.

"Out and you leave unharmed. Stay there and I'll come and get you, and I might just get clumsy. Final chance."

That seemed not a terribly professional reaction from a member of a police force. The question was now if Wirin had gotten herself in trouble, or if it was Nico's fault, at least as far as Nico was concerned.

She asked, "leave where?" while walking nearer the edge of the roof.

"Crawling back to Eiqat, I expect," Weft said, not directing it at Wirin but not caring if she was listening.

"And telling her to keep her thugs away from Mr. Weaponsmith's property if she wants to stay in what I'm charitably calling business."

"Why don't you go roll in some axle grease, monk?" said Wirin, but she did come out into the open this time.

"Ah, free message delivery," Nico said mostly to herself, and had a good look at the weapon shop opposite. It could be that this was just some kind of diversion.

Weft didn't seem to care about that possibility, if it had occurred to him. The male of the duo on the street was hanging around, keeping his distance.

"Fine," said Wirin, backing up slowly. "This isn't over. And you, tourist, a whole reel of good you were."

Weft glanced at Nico.

She smiled at Wirin, a bit sadly. "It was your bad idea, to be sure I help, when you did not say with what."