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Fray-hat spoke knowingly. Adam couldn't yet tell if the insight was born of experience or deductive wisdom, but knew that this man couldn't be too many rings down from the Hound, perhaps a direct liutentant. It was unlikely that this was the savage killer that had pulled off the shock-slaying, but this was someone who spoke the same "language" as Adam, a language in which each choice of word meant more than the information it directly conveyed.
"Subsist" was how this man characterised the brawler's preying. Ironically, though Adam probably made a bit less than the two, he did agree and even smiled a microexpression when the word came. To need to risk all of your hide each time you go to work is subsistence, no matter the pay. And so the metaphporical analysis came to Adam. Less clawed shadow planner. Almost flattering, Adam felt, though the 'clawless' remark shouldn't be taken as a welcome lack. Savagery, well controlled, was a valuable comodity.
Why was Adam in Sunberth and what was he hoping to find in fact? He'd never been elsewhere for more than a week and never considered a different lifestyle. But he knew why. And what do we do about "mad dogs", Adam, hm? Fray-hat and his knife want to know. This is an interview. And it's an interview with the people that did -that- to the Daggerhand petcher. Start talking. Nov' and Seng' can come back dragging bodies, your demonstration is here and now.
Adam's open-hand gestures continued to be ample along with his speech, but with his own inspection of the physical elements visible on the man completed, the gaze locked onto the eyes inspecting back from beneath the hat.
"Well. I... am Sunberth. It's here, because this is the only place where you make your own freedom. The first thing I hope to find, is nobody stepping into my way and telling me what I can't do because it doesn't fit their idea of a good world. God or king or knight or Daggerhand. And, what's worse, telling me all that without my everhaving accepted their rules. I just want to expand my autonomy, and to do that, well -one has to..." Fangs showed proudly off of the thin smile full of meaning. "...seize openings, I hear."
A pause and King sipped from his drink, wording the next answer in his head.
"As for the "mad wolves" and their constant ego-driven pursuit for physical and intimidating domination, I find there are generally five things to do for a ... prowler-planner such as I." Adam's closed left hand extended out agaist the table counting. With each method he announced a new finger opened up to mark the number.
"One is the easy-to-say-hard-to-do "out-think" them. This, other than fast-talking your way through social pressure or plain hiding well means taking your petching time and swallowing your pride until the perfect time to strike back has arrived or preferably has been crafted into being by pulling the right strings. Always hit back, no matter how long it takes."
"Two is you become profitable to the mad wolves. Their life is better with you making them money and making their life easy while doing the same for yourself."
"Three is you surround yourself with your own mad pack." Adam nodded in a small gesture back towards the door once more the same as he did when speaking about the two departed patrons around the table earlier. "They know your pack is behind you, sooner or later. And they can understand that threat, even when pride and dumb instinct is sending them to bite."
"Four is you just bite the bullet and cash in accumulated resources to have them hit. It's a last resort, and has attatched dangers, but it's better than having your reputation weakened. Reputation can protect you a lot better than steel."
"The fifth one is rather hardest, and takes a lot, but it's esentially sending the mad wolves the message that if push comes to shove and they're coming at you to kill, well - " Adam's last finger had already extended upon the count of the fifth method when, in a sudden and decisive gesture, his right hand pulled the punchknife out of his boot and then came flying down for the table, impaling with a spurt of blood into his own left hand. The blade went through the web of the hand before sticking hard into the wood. The site of the stab was away from bone and major vessels, and the angle, while cutting clean through the webbing, hadn't severed it but instead cut along. A few patron's heads turned and Adam had a hard time holding back wincing in pain too much for a good number of seconds. When his voice came back, it had a darker tint, lower and a bit raspier, without the eager analitical cheer of earlier. " -well, you're just as mad as they are." The right hand let go of the knife's handle and slid down along-side the leather coat. Huh, you've nailed yourself to the table you silly bunny, you, came a thought. Now he just stared, eyes back up from the hand to the man's eyes. The pain was already focusing his attention more than distrupting it.
It was only fair and lucrative to let them know 'Mad Adam' existed in there, if ever truly needed. But 'Mad Adam' scared him because he was the side of Sunberth that Adam hated and feared. A drop of blood slivered off of the table and onto the floor.
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