Roofrats 5

"I-I-I'm a monk," Weft said, turning slightly coralline and imitating her change of language. "Seriously, did I do something wrong?"

"I don't think so. I just like to know what's going on. You mean 'no', yes?" Nico was relaxed.

"For all sorts of reasons, yes, I do mean 'no'." He settled down a little and arranged himself on a chair opposite, not glancing at the menus.

"Nothing for me; I'm fed at home," he said casually to the male attendant, who was wearing black and cerise and clearly curious about Nico but had all the same approached Weft first.

"And for the ali-- uh, visitor?" the waiter asked Nico in a polite tone.

She smiled at him blankly for a moment, which had nothing to do with his slip of the tongue, and everything with her memory being a little bit sluggish.

"You do good fish paella, I hear?"

"It's been an excellent season for clams. And the shrimp is particularly fine, fresh this morning," said the waiter, who was probably thinking something along the lines of if you people like shrimp. Do you people even eat? With your mouths? I'm so glad that monk's here, even if they are creepy.

Weft paid little attention to Nico's food-ordering, first touching one of the flowers because he liked the colour, then sitting back in the posture unofficially called Decorous Decor. He wondered how to ask about her visit so far without being a nuisance.

"Sounds wonderful." She smiled and hoped that'd end up in having ordered 'one of that', because she was confused about how 'fish' here mapped to 'fish' or 'seafood' elsewhere.

"That'll -- six fifty, please." The attendant made a good job of being impassive and not overtly rude about it. He just asked for the money in advance. There had been quite a bit of that during Nico's visit.

Nico paid up, handing over exact change, and after he had gone, asked Weft quietly, "What is normal for, mhm, tips here, say?"

Weft spoke without thinking. "I shouldn't think so. He's married."

Nico had a little gigglefit, resting her elbows on the table and face in her hands. "I just meant money given to the serving person."

"Yes... I know. Not unless you're trying to come on to him."

"Good to know. Thanks."

"Generally you'd compliment him," Weft continued, "without grabbing him on the way past."

"Mhm. Paying before, is it normal for locals, too?"

"Only if they look poor or criminal. When I worked in kitchens we had a list of problem customers."

"Hah!" Nico grinned. At least she was making an impression even without trying.

"Oh. They probably don't mean... well, no, they probably do. We're not really used to a-- offworlders here. Everyone here looks the same and lives in one place."

"No-one lives outside the city?"

"Well, nobody important."

"Who is not important?" Nico had her guesses, but she still smiled mildly.

"Some people live out in the colonies. I think that's where food comes from. Or something. I guess they don't like living in the city." Weft frowned a little. Obviously he didn't know, or remember, much about world geography.

"mh-hmmm...People growing food for people in the city, not important?"

"Well, yes. If they were, they'd live here." Weft nodded, his logic unassailable.

Nico tilted her head and looked at Weft, trying to guess if he was kidding. After a few moments she sighed and gave an odd little half-shrug, not really up to this at the moment.

He didn't look like he was kidding, if indeed he had a sense of humour. The monk fell silent, wondering if he'd said something wrong or if Nico just preferred silence. If the latter, he could out-silence anyone but another monk.

Before Nico could decide on something else to ask, the food arrived. She thanked the waiter enthusiastically.

The food was a yellowish mess of rice and lumps that turned out to be various bits of fish and seafood. Nico would have preferred getting a knife, too, but it was sticky enough to make using only a fork workable. It did take her a little bit of effort to keep up decent manners at first, but then, the paella was very good and deserved to be enjoyed.

Weft had got out a crochet hook from somewhere and was working on something round made from light blue, shiny yarn.

Nico watched him while chewing. Since she was starting to refuel, she was thinking a bit clearer. One thing after the other.

"Say. Those Mios people, if they remember me... is there part of city I should not go to now?"

He looked up on hearing her question. "They're based mostly in the Low East -- Mo'maus and that area. Eiqat Mios is a local woman. It's rare for them to come this side." This seemed intended as reassurance.

One possible question being if that would stay that way, considering they were here now. Oh, well, good to know, anyway. Nico had only a very rough picture of the city as a whole, but at least that gave her a direction.

"You know why they are here now?" She had asked the same, more or less, but wanted to make sure.

"Apart from to bother the owner of that shop we saw, no. I don't ask, really. It's not something I need to know."

He swallowed once. "Are you bothered about what she said about... what I do?"

Nico frowned through a forkful of rice-and-a-shrimp before answering in a conversational tone, "I want to talk about that. You?"

"Most people I meet don't," Weft said. "Or they're interested to an unhealthy degree. Go ahead, ask. If there's something I'm not allowed to talk about, I won't."

She switched yet again to interworld, since she thought it was less likely to lead to misunderstandings. She already had a slight headache in anticipation.

"What is your job?"

Weft looked relieved at this. Switching language hadn't occurred to him, and he didn't want to seem to be hiding anything, so it was best that Nico had instigated it.

"I work for what's officially called the Expressors of Tough, Unselfish Love with Compassion, a monastic order. We're one of the more important and moderate sects and we do a lot of work for the city -- well, officially for the city and also for various people and gods who live here."

Weft had his eyes fairly narrowly held and wasn't avoiding hers. He continued, "I told you before that I was a killer; well, please don't think that's what I do all the time. Mostly it's other tasks. Surveillance, ungentle persuasion, protection or just being visibly present."

He'd put the needle and yarn down and wasn't fidgeting with them.

Nico chewed thoroughly, looking through Weft while bending a few mental gears slightly. Her eyes narrowed in concentration; when she finally addressed Weft again, her tone was matter-of-fact.

"So, government, or whoever else, comes to your order with something like, for example, 'we need this shopkeeper from being intimidated', or 'we do need this other person intimidated so they do what we want', or 'we need this person killed', and that gets done then?"