another night (cyrah and clem)

[Clement Reijnder]

28th of Spring, 510 It wasn’t very often that Clement stayed at home all day, so it was rather curious that he’d spent the last three days at home. If he was feeling under the weather, he didn’t let on. If something was wrong, he was sure not to mention it. He just didn’t seem to be leaving. It was strange. Stranger yet? He was sober. Cyrah at that point wasn’t home. She was probably off eating a corpse that they were getting paid for her to consume. Personally he was glad that he didn’t have the job of taking care of carrion, though once in a while he found himself wondering what it was like. He sprawled out over the bed, seeming to be completely comfortable in his nudity. Really he spent a large amount of time not clothed while at home, but he didn’t tend to be around for large chunks of time. Never mind the fact that most of the time he was home Cyrah was sleeping, being the nocturnal pain in the arse that she was. A book was resting on his chest, he flipped a page. He'd borrowed it from some random associate of his. He only read when alone like he was afraid someone would make fun of him or expect him, Gods forbid, to say something intelligent from time-to-time. He turned a page. His expression was rather thoughtful. Someone was a secretive scholar.

[Cyrah]

A scratch at the door. And then a low, irritable growl, and the scratching turned into full-on clawing until thick, mahogany slab of wood that Cyrah had commissioned to protect their little home snapped open a creak, and was thusly shoved open. The back-end of a jackal appeared first, the tawny-tipped tail swung high, as she hauled a satchel-shaped tie of fabric along upon the ground, by her teeth. The satchel looked full to bursting. And it made a pretty, enticing clankety sort of sound with every tug the jackal gave it to pull it further into the room. The dancing, dreaming sound of hundreds of gold coins toppling against each other. The jackal paused once inside and released the satchel from her jaws, twisting about to bark! at Clement, as if to say: Get off your lazy ass and come see! She sat just beside the makeshift bag, her tail thwapping excitedly against the floor, thump thump thump in a display of delight that was most uncommon for this particular canine.

[Clement Reijnder]

At the sound of the door getting scratched at, he quickly tucked his book under the pillow. His attention turned towards the jackal backside that appeared, and as soon as she was fully through the door with her parcel, an eyebrow lifted upwards. “Whatcha got there?” he said as if expecting her to answer back. She was excited. It kind of spooked him a little. She was never… Peppy. She was a fist-to-the-teeth type of girl, and oddly that was the way he liked her. He bent down to look at the fabric on the floor. He wasn’t dumb enough to reach for it. He didn’t want his hand ripped off. He liked his hands where they were. Much like the rest of his body parts.

[Cyrah]

Another bark!, a louder one, when he came closer, and she snapped her jaws at his bare legs, as if to say: put some petching pants on, you louse.. The tail kept wagging, though, and she yipped and hopped up to her feet, delicate paws clacking across the hardwood floor as she jumped from one side of the bag to the other, and then wound about it in an excited circle. When it became clear that she wasn't going to get anywhere with him in this form, she leapt over the bag again and towards her trunk. Light popped and buzzed around her as she moved, flashing brightly, and then winked out again to reveal the human Cyrah as she pushed the trunk's lid open and fished out a dress. "Look what I got!" she ordered, as she struggled the garment over her head. The fabric muffled half her words. "I went to kill that Northwinder, remember? And he kind of caught me -- but! Then he offered me money to not kill him, because I was so obviously going to kill him, and so I got 600 gold for not killing him, and he's probably going to hire me to kill the guy who hired me to kill him -- you know, for an Eypharian, he's pretty hot, too, and he's got some moves with those hands, it was really great--" She gathered the long, gold-dusted lengths of her hair and yanked them free of the dress' collar, scrambling delightedly back over to the bag to start fishing pouches of gold coins from within. It was easy to forget, for all she was angry and vicious, that she was still a little girl sometimes, and things like shiny gold coins were like birthday presents. A grin sharpened her mouth, lent her features a youthful, glowing beauty. "Look, see? And you get half."

[Clement Reijnder]

He glanced down at his bare legs and then looked up at her. “Oh, give me a petchin’ break, Cyrah. Don’t be such a damned hypocrite. You get naked all the petchin’ time around here. You don’t see me whining. If you don’t like it, don’t look.” He was smirking until the part about the Eypharian being desirable. His face fell into a scowl though he had his back turned to her. After that comment he did in fact go to find his pants. They were shoved on. He hated most Eypharians. They were pretentious. They were elitists. They were everything he hated, and to top that off… They treated him like complete dirt despite his own rather high-standing background. Never mind that this Northwinder was the shifty lot as far as he was concerned. If he was getting hits out on him, then something was wrong. Didn’t she stop to think that even in just a few minutes a mob of Eypharians would come breaking through the door to kill them both? Her excitement still amused him, though. After he got his pants buttoned up, he moved to pick up the bag and carry it to the table. It was set down and untied carefully. A glance was cast in her direction. He was overly-sober. His words slurred less and took on an almost lyrical cadence. He seemed… Nicer? That was probably the proper word for it. He scratched at his back with one and poked at the gold with the other. “Half?” It sounded like he was going to protest that he deserved more, but his words in the end were perhaps a bit surprising. “More like a third. You did most of the work on this time.”

[Cyrah]

"No," she said, blinking those silvery eyes at him. Abnormal eyes, like a glance too deep into moonlight. She said firmly, "You get half, you always do. Besides, he's going to send a servant looking for Anubis, and you have to handle the deal for me." Because even if the Eypharian was desirable, Cyrah wouldn't meet with a client to discuss business. Not on purpose, anyway. That was the whole point of Clement. Besides, despite his obvious shortcomings, he was much better with people, on the whole. She crinkled her nose at him, a scrowl threatening one corner of her mouth. "I can't shift in clothes, and simply the fact that I can shift gets us money, so don't even try to compare the two of us. You don't need to be naked to read, Clem." Ah ha. So she'd seen what he was up to. A blush crept into her cheeks beneath the scowl in her eyes, but she continued taking pouches of gold from the makeshift sack. Six in total. And then she pushed three of them over to him. "Here. Don't spend it all on whiskey." She probably struck at him thus because he was sober, and she'd skewer him in every way he gave her. The excitement was dampened, but she gathered up her half and padded over to the chest of drawers with it, intent on arranging the pouches in one of the drawers along with the few other things that Cyrah deemed important. "And don't settle for less than an additional three hundred to do the job. I know he's good for it."

[Clement Reijnder]

“Fine, I’ll take half. But… I could make money getting naked, too,” he said, sounding like he was perhaps pouting. He moved to take up his part of the money, nudging open the bags so that he could peek inside. He took out a coin to make sure it was actually the real thing, turning it over in between his fingers thoughtfully. “And I wasn’t reading. I was looking at dirty pictures in a book I stole from… Somewhere… That’s why my pants were off.” He cleared his throat. If he grossed her out, she wouldn’t press about what he did with his private time – It tended to be a lot more boring than what people would assume. “I won’t petchin’ spend all my coin on whiskey. I’ll spend at least half of it on women.” That was at least his story.

[Cyrah]

She rolled her eyes at his excuse for being pantless, but didn't believe it for a second. So he didn't get the grossed out reaction he'd been seeking. If he thought she had delicate virgin ears at this point, then he was stupider than she'd ever given him credit for being. She knew full-well that he'd rarely ever waste his time pleasuring himself, when there were streets crowded with larks willing to pleasure him for less coin than they'd charge a normal-looking john. Cy was aware of Clement's appeal, even if she didn't acknowledge it. So with a snort, she just shoved the drawer closed and shrugged. “Fine,” she said airily, like she really didn't care. “Spend it however you want to petching spend it. Just keep your mitts off mine. Look, you're not even listening to me--” She fished a wrapped section of salted meat from her trunk, along with a stiffening loaf of bread, and padded over to the table to figure out her dinner. Her tummy was already grumbling from the shifting she'd done that night. She leveled sterling-bright eyes on Clem as she picked up the carving knife and levered it against the beef. “If we can get the Eypharian, you know...he could be a repeat client, they always want to kill people. This could be really good. So you have to actually be charming when you meet with his servant.”

[Clement Reijnder]

“Oh, I’m listening,” he said, eyeing her with the knife in hand. It was big. He didn’t think it would feel very good sinking in between his ribs should she feel the sudden urge to gut him. “And for the record, Cyrah, I know full well to keep my hands off of anything of yours…” He wiggled his finger at her a little bit while looking up at her. “Last time I put my hands on something of yours, I got my bits knocked up to the backs of my teeth. Which hurt my feelings just as much as my jewels, by the way.” He stood up then to move, practically sauntering across the room to the bed. The book was pulled out. He flipped it open before going to look for the cheap bottle of Benshiran wine that he had traded for. “I can be charming when I have to be.” Though it was questionable if she’d ever seen it.

[Cyrah]

Her eyes snapped up to look at him when he mentioned that particular altercation. Surprise arched her eyebrows by just a degree. It wasn't like him to bring those things up; he must have been sober. Logic dictated that when something like that happened, they spent the rest of their days pretending it hadn't. A blush stole into her cheeks just remembering it, though she could not have said if she was blushing because she'd kicked him in the nuts, or because she'd liked it beforehand. Or because it all just confused her, which in turn made her angry. The anger, though, that sparked into her eyes quite quickly. “You put your hands on me,” she clarified icily. “That's what got your bits knocked up behind your teeth. And you did it just to upset me.” And that distinction was important. They shared quite a bit, over all, despite whatever problems they had with each other. She didn't care if he rummaged through her trunk; she didn't care if he slept in her bed. The only times he'd gotten the full brunt of her very unpredictable temper had been when he'd laid hands on her person, for better or worse. She layered a bit of the meat over a slice of the bread, and set the knife down. “Whatever you say. Just charm the guy. Maybe it'll be a woman, even better. Then you can charm her, and I'll charm him, and we both win.” She shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich.