The Tavern

[Vanitypirate]

Tilly had seen her fair share of sinister folk, and she was not unused to intimidation attempts from Brenton's ilk: academics who boasted an impressive knowledge of sciences and the like, and considered it fair clause to dominate. It was unsurprising as history repeated itself time and time again, through Whateley, the Pigeon-doctor, to that Doctor East, and then there was the matter of the rather inhuman Crowgazer. All of them, she'd be rather better off to have never known them.

'My dear little Tilly...' It was laughable.

She straighted up, lifting her chin up and off her interlocked fingers. She would not be bullied again, not the way he treated about his chattel.

"Why in blazes would we go trundling off now?" She gave a sickly sweet chuckle and rubbed her palms together, "My friend, the sun's going down; we'd be stumbling through the Cove in the dead of night by the time we got there." The robber nodded again with that glib grin of hers, "Yes, Courcy's exhausted, and you're quite obviously inebriated. There are easier ways to get killed if that's what you're looking for, good doctor."

Though, she rose her brows as Courcy said her peace, and stood up against the Doctor. It was almost heartwarming, in a way, to see the fire in her-- Baignard's death and her string of bad luck certainly hadn't snuffed her will, despite what Tilly had seen before...

Tilly rose to stand, too, hooking her bootheel on the rung of the barstool behind her and cocking her knee.

"You forget who's running this whole excursion, Doctor. We'll need your utmost cooperation if we hope survive in the Dark; I've seen perfect missions go sour because my fellows refused to get along." She let a hand rest on her bony hip as she continued,

"If you make things difficult for my friend, if you two can't manage some sort of teamwork--" She let her other hand rest on Courcy's shoulder, although she stood quite a bit shorter than the Hellion and the Doctor if one discounted the borrowed height of her battered cockel hat.

"I think I'd be tempted to find a fellow with a more flexible schedule, better manners, and a healthier slave, hm?" Her spidery hand lifted from its perch on Courcy's shoulder to roost in one of many coat pockets, on the exterior, patchwork fabric. "And certainly one whose haste won't get us skewered in that Cove."

She knew his type, the slippery academic with his own, selfish agenda. His kind had poised a dagger at her back before, nearly got her compatriots killed before they had cut their teeth on any of the evils in the Dungeon. She certainly didn't need to repeat history.

Tilly had half a mind to nip the problem in the bud and dismiss him on the spot.

"I go where I please, now, and don't forget it. Mind, we leave tomorrow, after we've rested and you've sobered up." She grinned an icy smile and began slowly backpedaling to the tavern's exit.

"If you take issue with that, or if I find from Courcy that you've been unpleasant to her, you can find yourself your own expedition party, and we'll be on our merry way."

[Mr. Swagwalker]

Confusion. Nerves. And panic.

Brenton took a step back at the sight of both Courcy and Tilly leaving their seats and standing up against him. His previously cocky grin, so full of smugness and domination, had been ground to dust and blown away with the wind - reduced into an expression of genuine surprise and anger. His dagger-like words had been completely deflected by their hardened shells of veteranship and unyeilding determination. The goggled doctor was not used to this. Not one bit. And he did not enjoy it. How could he have been so outplayed by two ladies - one of which he stood nearly a foot taller than? Wasn't he the smartest man in this entire estate? It was a mystery to him.

The gloved hands turned into trembling fists. He was a hair's breadth away from reaching into his satchel and unleashing chemical hell upon them for having humiliated him so. But thankfully he was able to remain in control of himself and let his better judgement steer him rather than his emotions. Despite how much he hated to admit it...they were right. If he was too eager within the dungeons then he would likely get himself or his subject killed and fail his mission. If he refused to cooperate with the team, then it could also risk his life - wether from miscommunication, fighting eachother, or leaving him for dead at the first opportunity. How could he had lost so much control of himself that he would straight-up threaten the head of their expedition?

DAMNATION. was all he could think of when he slowly sat down in the nearest chair and lowered his head in defeat. For once he was the one who had been put in his place.
"...Aye...You are correct. Both of you." he reluctantly admitted and began to fiddle with his thumbs. "The liqour must have made me forget the most important ingrediants of chemistry...caution, and patience. Hm." Brenton almost sounded fascinated by his own realisation. With a silent chuckle through his nostrils he suddenly raised his head again, a smirk having formed on his face in place of the frown, with renewed enthusiasm and looked at the two. "But as a dedicated scholar I only enjoy learning new things. Thank you for the...enlightenment...I will take this into sincere consideration. You are free to go, my friend." Acting as if he was thankful for their hurtful criticism was incredibly frustrating and dishonorable, but he still persevered and made it look as genuine as he possibly could. He could not risk losing the few artifical bonds he had just recently made so quickly. It appeared that if he wanted to have even the slightest hint of success in this Hamlet he would need to be able to comprimise and work along other's terms. 
What bloody hell have I tossed myself into?

Edgar watched from the side with his jaw slightly hung open with eyes as wide as saucers. He couldn't believe what he was seeing; the two were standing up against Brenton's oppressive nature and were outright defying it. The thought was completely unthinkable to Edgar - and yet it had just occoured right in front of him.
He couldn't help but feel an incredible amount of respect for Courcy and Tilly. They had such courage that they would dare to refuse his behaviour, let alone verbally beating his sadistic ego into a defeated pulp.
Edgar had heard such horrid things of The Hamlet. That it was the home of thieves, cutthroats and practitioners of inhuman rituals. But that is not what he had discovered. What he had found instead was a place bound together by a strong sense of comradery and humanity.
Perhaps there was hope, after all.

But as per usual, Edgar's optimism would not last, for it was soon replaced by feelings of doubt aimed towards himself. Leoman could offer care to him without a single worry about what Brenton would do. Courcy and Tilly were able to stand up against Brenton's threats and succeed in showing him that he was wrong.
Why can't I be like them?... he thought. Why must I be so cowardly, so weak?...These people can stand up for themselves and even complete strangers...But not me. All I can do is cower in corners, trembling like a freightened child and dissapoint those few who show consern for me... Edgar lowered his head in an attempt to hide his sulking face from the others.

By the light, what have you done to me?!...

[black379]

Courcy settled back onto the stool and heaved a sigh as Brenton conceded to a seat. Even if it didn't show, she was glad, if not surprised, that things had not escalated into a fight. Too many fool 'geniuses' were quick on their feet to challenge a stranger, expecting a fair duel - at least this one didn't want to prove his own mortality.
"Damn right."
She shot the goggled man a hostile glare and half swiveled in her seat back to the bar. If she could trust to get any good sleep with the shady scholar a few feet behind her was more than questionable. Until Blood arrived, the ginger would have to keep an eye on Brenton and his slave.
"Come back soon enough, won't you Tilly?"

[Vanitypirate]

"Right..." Tilly nodded slowly, posted by the door. She slid her other hand into a coat pocket, as well, so that both rested comfortably within the fabric. She looked over them both, and worked up another uneasy smile.

"Right. This is a perfect example of why we ought to rest."

She let her tone go bright and cordial, again; she let the tension roll consciously off her back.

All was well, for now. Or so she let it seem.

"Don't have too much fun without me, now." She jested, taking another step to the door,
"I won't be too long. Try and get some shut-eye."

In a few other quiet steps, she was out of the tavern.

[Tilly departs unto the Hamlet Streets. \o/]

[rumsztyk]

The gaunt boy in oversized dirty clothes walks into the Tavern and immediately his eyes dart around the room. He immediately notices the surplus of doctors in the room. His hands start to shake unwittingly, but hunger takes over. How long has it been?

Having no money, he shyly approaches the counter, making sure his oversized pants don't fall off in a public place.

[Unter]

Francois sees a little kid, hungry and surely scared, waiting near the counter. By his looks, he doesn't seem very rich. Listening the religious teaching he endured, he put a hand on his gold bag an approaches the child. He then starts, with a strong french accent. "Hey, what are you doing here ? Are you alone ?"

[rumsztyk]

Milo turns around and stares wide eyed at the massive pile of steel approaching him. His eyes then dart around the room, already looking for ways to run away from the Tavern. Unwittingly he starts to back off deeper into the room, away from Francois.

"Alone." gulp "M-m'lord."

[Unter]

Francois laugh, a loud low laugh. "Now now child, there's no need to be afraid." He shows the gold bag. "See, I'm not going to eat you! You're hungry, let me buy you something. What would you like?"

[Mr. Swagwalker]

Brenton sat quietly for a bit, at first unsure of what to say to Courcy. Though was there truly anything he could say after having threatened her companion?
The silence was starting to become more unbearable by the minute for him, until soon he couldn't stand it anymore and decided to at the very least try to get some conversation going to pass the time. If he played his cards right then he could perhaps even repair the damage dealt to their trust for him.

"So...Courcy...What would I expect to meet within this Cove?" he asked, trying to be careful in his approach. "How would it be organized, and what is the plan? How many will come along? I could use some details if I come along."

[rumsztyk]

-George-

The Warden walks into the Tavern laughing - a rare sight these days. He saunters over to the bar with Duval in tow. "Hey, Hook. Two ales, as a warm up."

He starts looking around the room, noticing Courcy with some kind of a doctor... and a slave? Must be the one Leoman tried to free.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
-Milo-

Someone took pity on him... rarely did it happen, but he was no stranger to it. Milo nods warily, his hands still twitching a little nervously. His eyes are on Francois' armor, not daring to look him in the eye - or in this case, visor. "A-anything would do."

[relentless]

"Psh! A warm up? Oh George, I didn't know you were taking it easy!"
Duval teased wickedly as he sauntered up by his side, flapping his overcoat about to cool himself down as he pulled himself up a stool, turning about smoothly and positioning his elbow on the counter; leaning his head against a clenched fist.

"Now now... let me go ahead and saaay... I've been making some interesting acquintances."
Duval says, raising his eyebrows twice at him before glancing over to the fiery redhead, his gaze lingering briefly across her features before he took his elbow off, slapped his chops and exchanged a weak smile.

"Guess."
Duval challenged, cocking a head at George with a devious glint in his eye.

[rumsztyk]

"Interesting, you say... This place is full of such people." George leaned on the counter in a similar, relaxed way. But frankly, he could only think of two such individuals. And the more he thought... the more he frowned at the memories. Nasty shit.

"Wild guess - Grace Nightingale." He shot at him, trying to clear up his frown. Speaking deliberately quieter in presence of Courcy, should she overhear it.

[relentless]

Duval blinked twice and shook his head, nodding his head in an impressed manner at George's guess.

"W-well then! Bravo George... yes, it's indeed Miss Nightingale."
Duval says in a normal tone of voice, not speaking it quieter than George since he didnt know what the matter was. He readjusted himself on his stool briefly, soon after clearing his throat after being put on the spot for a bit.

Pointing a single finger a George, he twiddles it about with a smirk.

"I seem to be getting on her good side... not her... very good side as of yet. Buuuut,  I don't know. Good friends so far, me be thinking."
Duval says with a brief thumbs up before he passes another glance at the doctor, and his lovely, redheaded companion. He slicks his hair back again out of habit, staring back down at the ground as he did so.

"She's got very lovely hair. Flows like wheat in a summers breeze..."
Duvals says in a deliberately obnoxious dreary tone, a giggle passing through his lips once again as he stared back up at George with that iconic glint of predatory instinct in his emerald iris.

[black379]

Courcy shrank where she sat as Tilly disappeared again, less than pleased to be left with Brenton. She anxiously awaited for Blood to appear, or even to doze off at the bar, though she remained awake out of distrust for the doctor. When he spoke up, with plenty of questions, the redhead turned her attention to Brenton. She made no effort to hide that she found him bothersome.
"I have never been to the Cove."
She answered shortly, almost hoping he would cease his inquiries if she only gave half-assed answers.
"I'm not the one to ask. I'm being forced on this mission, in place of more severe punishment, for my crimes."
Perhaps instead she could deter Brenton with that knowledge.
"As for who's going, you ought to know. Me, Tilly and Blood, your slave there, and yourself."
The hellion made a point to mention him last. She sighed, averting her eyes from him only to spy a few familiar faces entering and arriving nearby. Her blue spheres rolled with irritation at George's advent.

[rumsztyk]

"Ah... That's heartwarming." George replied in a teasing way, turning on the barstool and putting both hands on the counter just as the drinks arrived. Hunched over the mug, he took a quick sip. Compared to all the hard shit he drank recently, it was a welcome change.

From his positon, he shot a sideways glance at Duval. You better not get on her bad side.

"How well do you know her?" he raised an inquiring eyebrow, tapping a simple rhythm against the wood.