Closed Harlot in the Lion's Den. [Matthew]

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

26th of Spring 514AV "Never took you a reader Seng" "I'm not" "Than what are you reading?" "Go bother someone else Elisa" "B... But-" "Someone's hand itching for an ass to grab. You won't find him here" said Seng as his eyes hadn't shifted from the journal cradled in his palm. Elisa had seen him reading the book in the farthest corner of the Pig's Foot and had decided to come bother him as he was immersed vehemently in his own thoughts. "Didn't know she was so nosey..." he said as he heard her huff and walk about back to the kitchen, his eyes never left the letters etched into the paper of the journal yet his ears never seemed to leave the atmosphere that was the Pig's Foot. He heard the arguing of a few sailors far into the central stem of the tavern and when the stem began to branch out, he heard the drunken slurs and swears of other patrons in the tavern. How their creativity to Senghor was measured was merely on how their conversations went on about. One group was still conversing about the death of the Daggerhand's leader, Rokan, another spoke of how big some whore's breasts at Brega's where, another spoke of how his wife had caught him cheating with their neighbor. Basically the Pig's Foot Tavern was full of its usual suspicious and non-suspicious characters and how they were to be perceived merely relied on who it was that was doing the observation. But with Seng, things were different as his thoughts entrapped him for that bell that night. His thoughts so often shifted back and forth from the journal to the meeting that he'd with the Scars not but a day or two ago, so many things were said, so many promises were promised yet personally he knew that living up to those promises wasn't looking good. Ambition, lately that word had been flying around like a crow waiting for its next meal. In his head, he'd established something similar himself and only their actions had clearly been shown on their progress, he'd brought people and creatures of different natures and found that they could work together beautifully. People like Serta and Garret, clear opposites but when given a purpose they executed it with an utmost commendable way. Seng than wondered if it was going to be the same thing, they'd all met the leader just like the Shackles had all met Seng, his actions ironically mirrored those of Garret when he head their meeting. A brotherhood and a business is how Senghor now finally perceived the Shackles and Scars, the Shackles was his own and they did what they pleased to achieve what they pleased, and the Scars was a business as he had to work for his due and make the best of it. His thoughts had so clearly become mixed and confused that he was beginning to develop something of a headache. He now had to think of a way to make his position in the Scars something worth having, waiting and killing Daggerhands was cute in some sense but than opportunity laid before them and he had to find a way to take it wherever it lied. And maybe who knew, opportunity could walk in right through the doors of the Pig's Foot at any moment...

[/color][/frame2][/framepic]

[Matthew]

It was perhaps unfortunate for the Harlot that he walked through the doors at that very moment. It was not his intention, Matthew having no way of knowing what was running through the head of what some would consider one of his many new-found partners in crime. But here he was, the well-kept and handsome Harlot drawing more than a few eyes as he gracefully slid through the throngs of people that occupied the tavern. It wasn't so much the appeal of his physical features that drew the eye as it was the fact that he was just so clean. His outfit was a simple pair of black britches matched with a seemingly fitted black shirt, but it hugged him near perfectly. It was also tear-free and apparently dirt-free. A rarity in Sunberth and something that probably made him a target for one or two accidentally spilled drinks.

He was breathing a bit hard as he stepped up to the bar and motioned for his normal drink. He had made a point to do a few laps in the town before heading here. He had recently been reminded of his days back in Mura with Kavala, days where he had been pushed to hone his body to be more than just attractive to the eye. He had been introduced to an exercise routine back then, so this morning he had given that exercise routine another try. It had nearly destroyed him. There had been a quick set of sit-ups, push-ups, and then a brisk jog. Then he had rested and went though the whole sequence again. It was a somewhat painful reminder of how out of shape he really was when it came to anything but the events inside the bedroom.

Muscles aching and breath coming ragged, Matthew grabbed the mug that was slid to him and cast his eyes across the occupants of the tavern. He ignored those that glowered him, deftly doing what he could to keep out of any random confrontation. A familiar figure caught his eye and Matthew didn't hesitate even for a second, slim body taking him through the crowded business as a blue stare locked upon Senghor.

The Harlot was upon the table in just a few ticks, not much of a sound accompanying his arrival. "Do you mind if I join you?" His voice was soft and polite as he sat across from Senghor, making sure he had permission to stay before he made an effort to get comfortable. Lifting his mug to take a sip, a bit of water dripping down his chin to give away the contents of the mug, Matthew soon continued on if not shooed away.

"I was wanting to learn how to fight. You seem like you know how to fight. Would you have any advice to offer someone who knows nothing about it?" The question was offered in an open and straight-forward manner, Matthew not one to mince words. He had seen Senghor, remembered who he was and then approached him with an obvious goal in mind. He awaited a response, sharp blue stare taking a moment to flick over Senghor, soaking in his appearance and the book he held in his hands. He hadn't struck Matthew as the sort who liked to read, but such assumptions were silly of him.

[Senghor Vilhjalmr]

The indefinable moan of the door as its rusted hinges and mass weight upon them brushed together as the newcomer opened it drew the inquiring gazes of all the patrons in the tavern. Seng's brow rose with an acute manner as he saw the prostitute enter the Pig's Foot, a whore in the presence of killers, rapists and murderers was not unusual but if the liaison was as clean Matthew always seemed to be than it was bound to carry stares. "Ah shit..." Senghor purred below his breath he was watched the man sway his way around the tavern with knowledge of its structure, he drew more stares as he moved around. Seng's eyes moved with the patrons of the tavern and he saw the sailors stir in their seats uncomfortably, it didn't take long for the whore and the mercenary to cross gazes and whatever attracted Matthew to Senghor wasn't looking well for the desert borne warrior. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, this caused Senghor to close his book and look at the tankard in on his table, he looked up once again at the man and merely nodded as the drink fell into his hand found its way into his stomach. Maybe the strong booze would make this all go away, he thought... Senghor watched the man sit down and his eyes seemed to glare with an intrigue as something of a smirk tugged at the back of his mind's own lips. Twisted ways in which fate seemed to work he thought with as stared down the harlot. "I was wanting to learn how to fight. You seem like you know how to fight. Would you have any advice to offer someone who knows nothing about it?" he said, so flat and openly as without any means of sugar-coating the matter. If Senghor was drinking at that moment he would have choked down on his drink and choked to death in shock and laughter yet he didn't deny himself the pleasure as a chuckle left his lips, a chuckle that turned into a laugh, grim and cold. How twisted fate worked - he thought again with smirk tugging at his lips and a dying laughter leaving the edge of his lips. "I must be drunk" he said loud enough to be heard by the harlot as he glared at him straight in the eyes. Senghor was as sober as a cold day and it was avid in the way that he was thinking at that moment he looked at the harlot. A brotherhood and a business were the words that flew by his mind as he looked by the entirety of the situation, it was there than that his mind began to cement the thoughts that had pledged his mind since that past season. 'Well than...' - he thought darkly with a tactical tone ringing in his head. "I've seen some strange shit in my life and you my friend, have made it to the top of the list" Seng said with an eased mood to him, he leaned back into his chair as the ale all to well altered his often stoic stature. With the tankard touching his lips and the nectar of hardened men flowing into his core, Senghor decided to play the game the way it was meant to be played. He put down the drink down on the aged table an looked at Matthew. "So let's cut to the chase - at that meeting, you said you could provide information and in this city, we all know that information is power" Senghor said coldly as he spoke with a different tone than he had at the meeting, now it was time to be digging graves and he was making sure his wasn't one of them. "If you can open up the same channels to me personally as you've the Scars, I'll do more than teach you how to fight, hell fucking and fighting comes naturally. I'll have you killing Alpha Yukmen with your own hands" he said with a drunk down the rest of his drink and looked back at Matthew. Senghor knew that what he was doing was taking a gamble far more dangerous than most of the things that he'd done, he never enjoyed the subtle entertainment of politics provided and it seemed joining the Scars had dragged him down into the daunting world of lies and deception. He didn't enjoy it, it wasn't him but it was in his blood. It felt natural even though it conflicted with his own personal style of things. With another look of intrigue at the harlot, Senghor wondered what was going through his head at that moment. Whatever the harlot chose would define the outcome of that night far greater than they knew...