Gonna to see the river man
Gonna to tell him all I can
About the ban
On feeling free
Nick Drake - River Man
The Rigs, Beta Platform, Shuttlepad
An overcast day in subtropical Sargasso was starting to draw to a close. A grey Geshrinari Light Freighter was zipping by with the black, orange, and white pentagon on the side with the words 'PSG' written below a bird with its wings down, staring at the viewer.
Only the crazy few could sport the pentagon with the firebird in bloom. He was coming back to roost after a mission with a small handful of his members. Small job over in Majestic, tracking down a noted profit shifting politician on the run from stakeholders and exploited Freespacers. Echelon was quite happy to see Luca continue his careeer in amateur punching dentistry on him, after dealing with the bodyguard contingent from Kennewes.
It touched down on the landing pad with no complications, and the hatch doors came open, stepping out Luca Pavone first, followed by a heavy man covered head to toe in PSG-logo sporting heavy combat armour, carrying a grenade launcher and light machine gun, most likely a Nepleslian. Nametag read: 'Biers'.
Following him were the fox-like woman who'd been sporting the fey demeanour with body-concealing snow camouflage, large ears visible by outline. Last was the Nepleslian woman with exceptional training records, her name Jeanne Lock. They all smelled like melted snow and blood, moist and metallic. It'd gotten messy out there in the Hope system, some support needed to come in hot. They got what they needed in the end.
Further along the platform, an older Nepleslian man could be seen signing documents on a clipboard discussing something with deck mechanics and officers. White hair. Gruff beard. Slight hunch.
Upon the deck was a strange assembly of metal - the man pointing to a large yellow scaffold on wheels, around two storeys in height.
Above it was a black silouette eclipsing the sun and the scream of rotor-blades, causing Luca to jump and draw his pistol in reflex. Hanging beneath it in shadow as it came into light was a man: a giant metal man being lowered onto the deck - the Nepleslian man motioning for them to keep going. From the looks of it, the chopper pilot was frightened of breaking it.
It looked almost like a ball jointed doll but its joints were flared with features from medieval armor and a number of tankish features like decals and vents could be spotted over the body. On its front hung something slightly larger than a human being resembling an armored space-suit, its back attached to the front of the torso like a baby-carrier in reverse. Beyond that, it was all neat tidy and very simple in peeling white and beige paint.
The feet of this heavy metal giant met a large yellow interlock already on deck - chains in its shoulders attached to some large yellow safety frame. Its head from beneath resembled a helmet faceplate and visor revealing a set of ornamental eyes - a feature almost never seen in armor design today. Looking it over again as Luca put the gun away and examined the behemoth in closer detail, the paintwork was old. Worn. Tired. Many parts down the left side were still open or flat out incomplete lending its form an asymmetrical appearance.
It looked like an unfinished antique. He looked left and right for someone to come to him and tell him what was going on with the codger in the mecha that looked like it needed a mantelpiece to sit on. He was expecting John, maybe Echelon, perhaps Aiesu despite the severed deal with Lazarus. Perhaps this was an elaborate prank by the soldiers as a misguided show of affection, but everyone around him was as surprised as him. Hell, the deck mechanics and officers were stumped.
When was this arranged? Had someone gone over Luca's head? He eyed the strange looking, mostly-metal man standing in front of him. "Can I ..." Luca was trying to be polite and look the new arrival in the eye, but he was watching the frame descending into the hangar deck. "Can I help you?" He asked, pursing his lips.
♫ Jackson C Frank - Blues Run the Game ♫
"Funny, speaking in old tongues" the man shifted his shoulder, grunting in Trade. From the looks of things, he was almost 90% beard with the thing running down to his chest - his features strong though tired looking like he'd served in the wars. His skin though dark had a muddy complexion to it - eyes dark brown and his smile bright and cheerful cracking about the edges of his eyes. His hair, long was swept back like that of some oiled business-man without support, the follacles just knowing their place. Fourty years younger and he'd be a lumberjack, surely. Or a wizard.
"You're the great Luca Palvone, I presume?" he winked.
Was the flub intentional? Luca raised his eyebrows and on reflex corrected it. He couldn't help it. "Pavone." He said, still on the back foot with who this guy was. "One and only, accept no substitutes or imitators." He said.
"Your lawyers make you say that?" the man chuckled, putting a hand on Luca's back.
"Nah last time there was a clone of me they tried to blow up a statue in Nepleslia Prime and blame me. Long story." Luca said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Risky business, clones. The two of you ever get to meet?"
"I always wanted to start a career in amateur dentistry with myself. Seldom see 'em now." Luca rattled off, eyes looking skyward as he tried to evaluate just how tall that huge thing was. "What I am seeing though, is the huge ... huge ..." he snapped his fingers, fumbling for a word.
"I just like to call it a robot. Frames, armor whatever. They all have computers and they all move. The person inside just suggests what they do like flying a plane, not like wearing a jacket. They're all robots, really, just fancy names for different sizes. She's smaller than she looks, mind so at a push, I'd say frame. Grandfather of that Lorath frame your doctor's worked on. Nasty little tyke, I hear."
Luca raised an eyebrow, wondering how long they'd been here before he showed up. "Shit, can't keep you out in the cold then," he looked over to a structure on deck and nodded his head over to it. "Come inside. Might need to get you disinfectant from Aiesu."
"I like your house," he said, pained to walk but still chipper. "House on the sea is good way to be. Lots of fresh air out here."
Luca had no comment on the house. It was a base of operations. The two passed through a doorway and into a climate controlled interior, down some stairs which Luca waited upon the elder to traverse, offering a hand. They refused and did it themselves.
"Now then. I suppose I should announce the reason for my company here with you" he said. His accent was thick. Hard to place. Very very Northern by Nepleslian standards. The two entered a lounge with couches, a miniature kitchen, and some PSG personnel on break with datapads, one a Lorath woman in office clothing with a submachine gun under her shoulder, and the other a soldier in fatigues looking at a folder. The Lorath woman tilted her head at the new arrival, the soldier paid no notice.
"Tea?" Luca asked, reaching for the kettle. Was only polite after all for someone that old.
"Please. No sugar, no milk. Its a dreich day, ain't it?"
Luca didn't quite catch that, looking at him incredulously as he recognised something in their voice.
"You're meant to be from Ralt. I'm surprised you not following."
"Shit, not often I get someone talking straight for a change." Luca admitted offhandedly, an old twang returning to his voice as he paced over. "Rare as hens teeth."
"Lotsa blubbertalk isn't warm on the back, is it?" the man said, taking the tea. "Best get to names."
"Whole lot, I say. Do tell." Luca seemed to go into a tranquil state of understatement, motions muted, but warmth still there.
"Nothing fancy like. Subeora. Otto Subeora. I like to talk big but brass tax I'm a museum man myself. Procure things, here and there."
"Pretty noble. Difficult to pickle in a world this flash and rowdy." He replied to Otto, putting milk and sugar in his.
"Aye. Curating is a pain and then some. That's my dealy with the big fella outside. You like him?"
Otto had half emtpied his cup already.
Luca pointed down at his chest. "Taken by surprise really. Went out, just got back. Bowling hooligans up in the brass ball weather with the crew. Lovely stroll, dunno why everyone else complained."
"You're not partial to cold? That's funny for a Ralter" Otto chuckled.
"Surprised?" Luca tapped his foot, snorting.
"Nah, but your kids will get used to it."
"V's a tropics kid. I can't stand this shine some days."
"Gets warmer every year. Fingers crossed I'll be able to retire back home with a coconut booze in one hand and a boob in the other on a nice chair somewhere sandy. On Ralt, I mean."
"Well ya come to the right signpost for the former. The latter sounds like that fangled VR."
"Don't knock VR till you've tried it. Simstim is wonderful fun. Anyway. About the boy on your porch."
Luca had finished his tea. "Agh, right then. Get to it." He nodded.
♫ Nick Drake - River Man ♫
"She's a schematic replica of something the Occhestians were toying with about fifty years ago, the work of some New Turlistan guy. We've never managed to get it working but your lady in the hospital has had a run in with the real thing about a decade ago."
"Wait, Tur'listan? You mean New Tur'listan?" Luca didn't know they were a caste.
"Seperate thing. Its complicated. Boring too."
Luca looked up and shoot his head, hoping for a brain from the heavens. He never had a grip on how ... verbose Lorath history was from Aiesu or the dragon working in medical.
"My lady in the STST department," meaning 'something this, something that', a derogatory term for the sorts of medical 'research' they did.
"Your poorly dog. Big milk bottle. You know she went through a full antique ceremonial plate set when the LSDF were trying to negotiate with her after she learned to talk like a decade ago? You stick the fine china out and she eats it. I'd be upset if it wasn't so funny."
Luca's face screwed up. "About her. Something did her in... Her."
"She's a gonner? She's built like a brick shit house, lad. Short of cats vapor I don't see anything hurting her dead."
Luca put his face down. "Dunno what the fuck's going on. Some sorta coma. This motherfucker was ..." he made an anguished snort, "wasn't even cats, it was something singular."
"Goblins, was it?"
Word caught on fast.
"That's why my fang farrier's chained here."
"Don't want anyone else forgetting to give her back. No, I get you. What about the march hare in your basement?"
"Watching her like ..." Luca sighed. "TV. Bad TV, remote's stuffed, picture's all fuzzy."
Otto frowned.
"Have you tried hitting her? Hare, not the telly."
"Asks for more. Validates her," he mumbled.
"This is why you don't get l'manel building stuff until lately. It was all turlistan work when the castes were stricter."
"Damn right, she couldn't build a damn clue as to why I'm not running after her with party favours."
"Probably because she likes you. If she likes you, her ego is swell enough to think you like her first."
Luca put his hands out, giving him an approximate measurement of her shoulders, then down to an approximation of her waist. "Like a fat bowling pin."
"Son, you're not a pedophile, are you? I mean, I don't judge, just look at the drawings like they do on Yamatai and stay away from schools is all. I get that she's supposed to be nearly fifty an she wears lots of different bodies but still, that's not on."
"Oh, hell no. She's repulsive. Tiny too." He measured her from the floor, then he blinked. "Wait, fifty?!"
"Aye. Fourty seven. She's an old lady by her caste's standards, given the shit she's been through and the sheer amount of fucking medication she's on just so she doesn't die. I hate her, but the two of us do talk. Never face to face, mind."
"How long have you sulked 'ere? Sounds like you two massacred the breeze."
"Oh, she was involved with the Winter and she gets a nosy at some LSDF documents so most of what I know about our friend outside is either from her, antique parts or declassifieds."
"Wore too many professions, I gave up on keeping up a long time ago." Luca groaned, reaching for an apple on the table. Duqs were nearby too.
"Computers and brains. Know enough about either and you can make them do the work for you. She's not some polymath, just a hack with a big ego and a giant farm of brain-scans and a daddy complex."
"Ugh. She keeps on rutting on me too and gets all sad at herself, really sickening." He made a dismissive wave. "But anyway, more on tincan."
"His name's Ao." Said Otto.
"Ao." Luca parroted.
"Scrapped something midway fifty years ago. Bit of a puzzle, really. The performance doesn't match what's outlined on the blueprint. Whoever designed it was really smart about it" the man put down a pair the man put down a pair of photos onto the table.
The man put down a pair of photos onto the table.
One, a front on blueprintueprint of a half-developed prototype. The other, a photograph worn and ambertones and red of something half-completed that had shifted dramatically from the original plan. It was hard to tell which was what - years between each - timestamped with a calender that wasn't even used anymore.
"Like Freespacers on 64kb of RAM smart or lizard-brain smart?"
"Sixty four."
"Get to chat to our resident radiohead?"
"Little bit. Its superior to what we initially predicted. She's going to take months to even come close to getting it work but there's some lost artform in how its made. Something I don't want goblins knowing."
"Nah yeah she's right and true. Swore fire and brimstone on the goblins."
"There's rumor floating that your hare is jailbroken. This true?"
Luca put a finger to his lips, looking around himself. He wanted to keep it under wraps.
"Fire, and brimstone. The 'space ain't just tickets to herself. Totally dinky-di. Scares the piss out of me sometimes."
"I like 'er. Very to the point."
"That's half the trouble. Still wools me sometimes - able to keep up with me on the seat of my pants." He raised a half eaten apple to that.
"She single?"
Luca snerked, nearly putting half-eaten chunks of apple up his nose.
"You think I'm joking son?" Otto said, stern now.
"Mate she weighs more than you're old. The redhead you might've boggled over on Gamma did some twisted shit to 'em but they ain't budging."
"Pity pity."
Luca shrugged. "Who knows?"
"So you mind if I bother you lot for a bit? I can pay my own way. As a bonus, I'll make the hare's life hell if you fancy."
"Don't bludge, stay truthy," Luca then grinned, raising a cheeky eyebrow, "make the bunny climb the walls."
Leaning forward, Otto reached for the teapot, pouring himself more. Only at a glance now did Luca make out the bulge of wings beneath his back under his jacket.
If Otto was Lorath, to look this way he'd have to be hundreds of years old.
Meeting eyes with Luca, he chuckled, a throaty deep chuckle that ran to his belly - lips usually a stern jokish frown filled with mirth. Luca snickered too, leaning forward and pointing. This wasn't an old man from Ralt, surely - but the accent was thick Ralt an nothing but.
"Cheeky motherfucker!" Luca called out.
"Took you long enough," Otto grinned. "Don't suppose you've got any scotch have you?"
"For a sharp codge like you, 'course!"
"Steady now."
END
Gonna to tell him all I can
About the ban
On feeling free
Nick Drake - River Man
The Rigs, Beta Platform, Shuttlepad
An overcast day in subtropical Sargasso was starting to draw to a close. A grey Geshrinari Light Freighter was zipping by with the black, orange, and white pentagon on the side with the words 'PSG' written below a bird with its wings down, staring at the viewer.
Only the crazy few could sport the pentagon with the firebird in bloom. He was coming back to roost after a mission with a small handful of his members. Small job over in Majestic, tracking down a noted profit shifting politician on the run from stakeholders and exploited Freespacers. Echelon was quite happy to see Luca continue his careeer in amateur punching dentistry on him, after dealing with the bodyguard contingent from Kennewes.
It touched down on the landing pad with no complications, and the hatch doors came open, stepping out Luca Pavone first, followed by a heavy man covered head to toe in PSG-logo sporting heavy combat armour, carrying a grenade launcher and light machine gun, most likely a Nepleslian. Nametag read: 'Biers'.
Following him were the fox-like woman who'd been sporting the fey demeanour with body-concealing snow camouflage, large ears visible by outline. Last was the Nepleslian woman with exceptional training records, her name Jeanne Lock. They all smelled like melted snow and blood, moist and metallic. It'd gotten messy out there in the Hope system, some support needed to come in hot. They got what they needed in the end.
Further along the platform, an older Nepleslian man could be seen signing documents on a clipboard discussing something with deck mechanics and officers. White hair. Gruff beard. Slight hunch.
Upon the deck was a strange assembly of metal - the man pointing to a large yellow scaffold on wheels, around two storeys in height.
Above it was a black silouette eclipsing the sun and the scream of rotor-blades, causing Luca to jump and draw his pistol in reflex. Hanging beneath it in shadow as it came into light was a man: a giant metal man being lowered onto the deck - the Nepleslian man motioning for them to keep going. From the looks of it, the chopper pilot was frightened of breaking it.
It looked almost like a ball jointed doll but its joints were flared with features from medieval armor and a number of tankish features like decals and vents could be spotted over the body. On its front hung something slightly larger than a human being resembling an armored space-suit, its back attached to the front of the torso like a baby-carrier in reverse. Beyond that, it was all neat tidy and very simple in peeling white and beige paint.
The feet of this heavy metal giant met a large yellow interlock already on deck - chains in its shoulders attached to some large yellow safety frame. Its head from beneath resembled a helmet faceplate and visor revealing a set of ornamental eyes - a feature almost never seen in armor design today. Looking it over again as Luca put the gun away and examined the behemoth in closer detail, the paintwork was old. Worn. Tired. Many parts down the left side were still open or flat out incomplete lending its form an asymmetrical appearance.
It looked like an unfinished antique. He looked left and right for someone to come to him and tell him what was going on with the codger in the mecha that looked like it needed a mantelpiece to sit on. He was expecting John, maybe Echelon, perhaps Aiesu despite the severed deal with Lazarus. Perhaps this was an elaborate prank by the soldiers as a misguided show of affection, but everyone around him was as surprised as him. Hell, the deck mechanics and officers were stumped.
When was this arranged? Had someone gone over Luca's head? He eyed the strange looking, mostly-metal man standing in front of him. "Can I ..." Luca was trying to be polite and look the new arrival in the eye, but he was watching the frame descending into the hangar deck. "Can I help you?" He asked, pursing his lips.
♫ Jackson C Frank - Blues Run the Game ♫
"Funny, speaking in old tongues" the man shifted his shoulder, grunting in Trade. From the looks of things, he was almost 90% beard with the thing running down to his chest - his features strong though tired looking like he'd served in the wars. His skin though dark had a muddy complexion to it - eyes dark brown and his smile bright and cheerful cracking about the edges of his eyes. His hair, long was swept back like that of some oiled business-man without support, the follacles just knowing their place. Fourty years younger and he'd be a lumberjack, surely. Or a wizard.
"You're the great Luca Palvone, I presume?" he winked.
Was the flub intentional? Luca raised his eyebrows and on reflex corrected it. He couldn't help it. "Pavone." He said, still on the back foot with who this guy was. "One and only, accept no substitutes or imitators." He said.
"Your lawyers make you say that?" the man chuckled, putting a hand on Luca's back.
"Nah last time there was a clone of me they tried to blow up a statue in Nepleslia Prime and blame me. Long story." Luca said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Risky business, clones. The two of you ever get to meet?"
"I always wanted to start a career in amateur dentistry with myself. Seldom see 'em now." Luca rattled off, eyes looking skyward as he tried to evaluate just how tall that huge thing was. "What I am seeing though, is the huge ... huge ..." he snapped his fingers, fumbling for a word.
"I just like to call it a robot. Frames, armor whatever. They all have computers and they all move. The person inside just suggests what they do like flying a plane, not like wearing a jacket. They're all robots, really, just fancy names for different sizes. She's smaller than she looks, mind so at a push, I'd say frame. Grandfather of that Lorath frame your doctor's worked on. Nasty little tyke, I hear."
Luca raised an eyebrow, wondering how long they'd been here before he showed up. "Shit, can't keep you out in the cold then," he looked over to a structure on deck and nodded his head over to it. "Come inside. Might need to get you disinfectant from Aiesu."
"I like your house," he said, pained to walk but still chipper. "House on the sea is good way to be. Lots of fresh air out here."
Luca had no comment on the house. It was a base of operations. The two passed through a doorway and into a climate controlled interior, down some stairs which Luca waited upon the elder to traverse, offering a hand. They refused and did it themselves.
"Now then. I suppose I should announce the reason for my company here with you" he said. His accent was thick. Hard to place. Very very Northern by Nepleslian standards. The two entered a lounge with couches, a miniature kitchen, and some PSG personnel on break with datapads, one a Lorath woman in office clothing with a submachine gun under her shoulder, and the other a soldier in fatigues looking at a folder. The Lorath woman tilted her head at the new arrival, the soldier paid no notice.
"Tea?" Luca asked, reaching for the kettle. Was only polite after all for someone that old.
"Please. No sugar, no milk. Its a dreich day, ain't it?"
Luca didn't quite catch that, looking at him incredulously as he recognised something in their voice.
"You're meant to be from Ralt. I'm surprised you not following."
"Shit, not often I get someone talking straight for a change." Luca admitted offhandedly, an old twang returning to his voice as he paced over. "Rare as hens teeth."
"Lotsa blubbertalk isn't warm on the back, is it?" the man said, taking the tea. "Best get to names."
"Whole lot, I say. Do tell." Luca seemed to go into a tranquil state of understatement, motions muted, but warmth still there.
"Nothing fancy like. Subeora. Otto Subeora. I like to talk big but brass tax I'm a museum man myself. Procure things, here and there."
"Pretty noble. Difficult to pickle in a world this flash and rowdy." He replied to Otto, putting milk and sugar in his.
"Aye. Curating is a pain and then some. That's my dealy with the big fella outside. You like him?"
Otto had half emtpied his cup already.
Luca pointed down at his chest. "Taken by surprise really. Went out, just got back. Bowling hooligans up in the brass ball weather with the crew. Lovely stroll, dunno why everyone else complained."
"You're not partial to cold? That's funny for a Ralter" Otto chuckled.
"Surprised?" Luca tapped his foot, snorting.
"Nah, but your kids will get used to it."
"V's a tropics kid. I can't stand this shine some days."
"Gets warmer every year. Fingers crossed I'll be able to retire back home with a coconut booze in one hand and a boob in the other on a nice chair somewhere sandy. On Ralt, I mean."
"Well ya come to the right signpost for the former. The latter sounds like that fangled VR."
"Don't knock VR till you've tried it. Simstim is wonderful fun. Anyway. About the boy on your porch."
Luca had finished his tea. "Agh, right then. Get to it." He nodded.
♫ Nick Drake - River Man ♫
"She's a schematic replica of something the Occhestians were toying with about fifty years ago, the work of some New Turlistan guy. We've never managed to get it working but your lady in the hospital has had a run in with the real thing about a decade ago."
"Wait, Tur'listan? You mean New Tur'listan?" Luca didn't know they were a caste.
"Seperate thing. Its complicated. Boring too."
Luca looked up and shoot his head, hoping for a brain from the heavens. He never had a grip on how ... verbose Lorath history was from Aiesu or the dragon working in medical.
"My lady in the STST department," meaning 'something this, something that', a derogatory term for the sorts of medical 'research' they did.
"Your poorly dog. Big milk bottle. You know she went through a full antique ceremonial plate set when the LSDF were trying to negotiate with her after she learned to talk like a decade ago? You stick the fine china out and she eats it. I'd be upset if it wasn't so funny."
Luca's face screwed up. "About her. Something did her in... Her."
"She's a gonner? She's built like a brick shit house, lad. Short of cats vapor I don't see anything hurting her dead."
Luca put his face down. "Dunno what the fuck's going on. Some sorta coma. This motherfucker was ..." he made an anguished snort, "wasn't even cats, it was something singular."
"Goblins, was it?"
Word caught on fast.
"That's why my fang farrier's chained here."
"Don't want anyone else forgetting to give her back. No, I get you. What about the march hare in your basement?"
"Watching her like ..." Luca sighed. "TV. Bad TV, remote's stuffed, picture's all fuzzy."
Otto frowned.
"Have you tried hitting her? Hare, not the telly."
"Asks for more. Validates her," he mumbled.
"This is why you don't get l'manel building stuff until lately. It was all turlistan work when the castes were stricter."
"Damn right, she couldn't build a damn clue as to why I'm not running after her with party favours."
"Probably because she likes you. If she likes you, her ego is swell enough to think you like her first."
Luca put his hands out, giving him an approximate measurement of her shoulders, then down to an approximation of her waist. "Like a fat bowling pin."
"Son, you're not a pedophile, are you? I mean, I don't judge, just look at the drawings like they do on Yamatai and stay away from schools is all. I get that she's supposed to be nearly fifty an she wears lots of different bodies but still, that's not on."
"Oh, hell no. She's repulsive. Tiny too." He measured her from the floor, then he blinked. "Wait, fifty?!"
"Aye. Fourty seven. She's an old lady by her caste's standards, given the shit she's been through and the sheer amount of fucking medication she's on just so she doesn't die. I hate her, but the two of us do talk. Never face to face, mind."
"How long have you sulked 'ere? Sounds like you two massacred the breeze."
"Oh, she was involved with the Winter and she gets a nosy at some LSDF documents so most of what I know about our friend outside is either from her, antique parts or declassifieds."
"Wore too many professions, I gave up on keeping up a long time ago." Luca groaned, reaching for an apple on the table. Duqs were nearby too.
"Computers and brains. Know enough about either and you can make them do the work for you. She's not some polymath, just a hack with a big ego and a giant farm of brain-scans and a daddy complex."
"Ugh. She keeps on rutting on me too and gets all sad at herself, really sickening." He made a dismissive wave. "But anyway, more on tincan."
"His name's Ao." Said Otto.
"Ao." Luca parroted.
"Scrapped something midway fifty years ago. Bit of a puzzle, really. The performance doesn't match what's outlined on the blueprint. Whoever designed it was really smart about it" the man put down a pair the man put down a pair of photos onto the table.
The man put down a pair of photos onto the table.
One, a front on blueprintueprint of a half-developed prototype. The other, a photograph worn and ambertones and red of something half-completed that had shifted dramatically from the original plan. It was hard to tell which was what - years between each - timestamped with a calender that wasn't even used anymore.
"Like Freespacers on 64kb of RAM smart or lizard-brain smart?"
"Sixty four."
"Get to chat to our resident radiohead?"
"Little bit. Its superior to what we initially predicted. She's going to take months to even come close to getting it work but there's some lost artform in how its made. Something I don't want goblins knowing."
"Nah yeah she's right and true. Swore fire and brimstone on the goblins."
"There's rumor floating that your hare is jailbroken. This true?"
Luca put a finger to his lips, looking around himself. He wanted to keep it under wraps.
"Fire, and brimstone. The 'space ain't just tickets to herself. Totally dinky-di. Scares the piss out of me sometimes."
"I like 'er. Very to the point."
"That's half the trouble. Still wools me sometimes - able to keep up with me on the seat of my pants." He raised a half eaten apple to that.
"She single?"
Luca snerked, nearly putting half-eaten chunks of apple up his nose.
"You think I'm joking son?" Otto said, stern now.
"Mate she weighs more than you're old. The redhead you might've boggled over on Gamma did some twisted shit to 'em but they ain't budging."
"Pity pity."
Luca shrugged. "Who knows?"
"So you mind if I bother you lot for a bit? I can pay my own way. As a bonus, I'll make the hare's life hell if you fancy."
"Don't bludge, stay truthy," Luca then grinned, raising a cheeky eyebrow, "make the bunny climb the walls."
Leaning forward, Otto reached for the teapot, pouring himself more. Only at a glance now did Luca make out the bulge of wings beneath his back under his jacket.
If Otto was Lorath, to look this way he'd have to be hundreds of years old.
Meeting eyes with Luca, he chuckled, a throaty deep chuckle that ran to his belly - lips usually a stern jokish frown filled with mirth. Luca snickered too, leaning forward and pointing. This wasn't an old man from Ralt, surely - but the accent was thick Ralt an nothing but.
"Cheeky motherfucker!" Luca called out.
"Took you long enough," Otto grinned. "Don't suppose you've got any scotch have you?"
"For a sharp codge like you, 'course!"
"Steady now."
END
