fruithats | [ #disastertwins catchall post ]

Off you go then.

[ she says it lightly, patting his shoulder the once as he heads off to the bathroom. she leaves the room herself soon after, not wanting to spend a moment longer than she has to by herself with that - thing. perhaps later, she'll offer to help dismantle any more that might remain. ]

[ truth be told, in the back of her mind, she's already shelving the inevitable lecture away for after they've both recovered from being horrifically drunk and then gloriously hungover. Jacob isn't going to escape a stern talking to about things like risk assessment and knowing when one is in over one's head that easily (he could have died, she thinks again, unbidden).

but that can wait. for now, she heads to the little cabinet tucked haphazardly in the corner of what could, if one was feeling generous, be called an extremely cramped living room, and roots around inside. with her head stuck half-inside the door of the cupboard, she only just about hears Jacob call from the bathroom. ]

Somewhere here in the living room, I think. [ she'd taken it upon herself to try and amass a ramshackle collection of medical supplies; it had been slow going, especially at first, but if you asked Evie, they couldn't be too careful with physicians anymore. no telling what anyone might think if they wound up treating someone who bore the Outsider's mark, after all.

she finds what she's looking for - a small tin box, tucked behind a half-empty bottle of pear soda and a dilapidated teapot - and draws it out onto her lap before getting back to her feet. ]

If it's not in this box, then it's anyone's guess. [ she's talking half to herself, half to Jacob as she wanders back out of the living area and takes a sharp turn into the bathroom. ] Delivery for you, Mister Frye.

[ he doesn't expect to escape the lecture. in all honesty, it would be quite strange to go without one. after all that's happened... after all the things he did. not right now, though, right now that is about the last thing he needs. he'd rather get drunk to the point where he can forget about it all, for a little while at least.

he hears Evie's reply just well enough, assuming she's looking for exactly what he asked about-- and so he goes ahead and picks up a spare set of clothes from his room (which is as cluttered and crowded as everything else in this place) while she's at it, which he deposits in the bathroom to change into and hopefully smell less burnt. no spare gloves... but then, they're not out to be seen tonight, ideally not by anyone. the back of his hand should make no difference. it's a little easier not to think when he's moving, when he has something to do, so he's grateful for more than one reason when Evie turns up. his smile is still tense, but it's there. ]

Thank you. [ for this, but more than just this, too. of course he takes the box, flips open the lid-- there it is. this is where he'd close the door and get on with it, but not before another question. ] D'you have a place in mind to go to for our heist?

[ with the box now out of her hands, she takes up a spot near the doorway, leaning against the corner of the frame with her hands in front of her, one resting on top of the other in thought. ]

I can think of a few places, depending on what you feel like drinking. [ a small smile quirks her lips; it feels a little easier, a little more genuine, this time. ] Would you rather imported or Gristol-made?

What about something from home? [ Morley, that is. it isn't as though they got much chance to be drinking back when they lived there, but that didn't mean they got none. as soon as the drinking songs began, people became much more liberal. ]

You mean, like a proper Caulkenny single-malt? [ the kind people used to slip them when said people were deep enough into their cups to care only about the fact that the two youngsters whose age could not yet be counted in double figures could bellow out a foul-mouthed anthem with just as much conviction as the next drinker.

she tilts her head. ] I think we could manage that. We have two choices: either we pay a visit to the docks and try our luck down at the customs warehouse. [ a brief pause. ] Or, I hear there's a manor up in the Estate District whose occupant has a taste for fine Morley spirits. We could take a tour of the cellar if we fancy our luck.

[ now those were good memories. the suggestion makes Jacob smile again, no less as Evie goes on and lists off several options like she's memorised them. has she? he's not sure he would put it past her.

his headtilt matches hers. so does the devilish edge to his smile. ] I never understood why rich people keep a whole cellar. How much can one person possibly drink? We really should lend a hand.

[ Evie feels her own smile sharpen. nothing like a spot of light wealth redistribution to lift the spirits, it seems. ]

That's the spirit. It's really only the charitable thing to do. [ she pushes herself off of the doorframe. ] I'll leave you to get ready while I check the location on the map, shall I?

[ she feels maybe a small shred of sympathy for Abbeline, should he happen to be one of those in the City Watch called out by an irate, whisky-less noble tomorrow morning. certainly not enough sympathy to overrule her anticipation at being able to focus on pulling off a simple, no-strings-attached heist. it's a relief to have something straightforward to focus her mind on, honestly.

and well, the promise of booze at the end of it doesn't hurt much, either. ]

Yes. I'll only be a few minutes. [ Jacob has absolutely no sympathy. perhaps for Abberline, should he indeed be responsible for the investigation. but even then... he did knowingly get into this line of work, didn't he?

he closes the door and sets about cleaning up as well and as quickly as possible, applying the salve where it is needed (which fortunately is mostly on his hands) and checking himself over for anything serious he might have missed. it turns out that even so simple a thing as changing into clothes that don't smell of smoke and blood is enough to almost make him feel like a new person. for the moment, anyway. he will find some way to forget about all this. ... perhaps whisky is not the wisest choice for that, or the most permanent, but it'll serve just fine.

after transferring anything possibly useful from the old pockets to the new, Jacob emerges from the bathroom looking much more like himself already. so sue him if he's left the wreckage of his old outfit in the bath, he'll toss that out later. he makes a beeline for where he suspects Evie to be waiting and he might perhaps be a little too eager to get going. ] So where's this manor with the overabundance of whisky?

[ Evie is, of course, exactly where Jacob expected her to be, pouring over the heavily annotated map of Dunwall that they've tacked over the top of the most dilapidated wall in the kitchen. she turns slightly when Jacob comes in, her eyes crinkling at the corners somewhat. at least he's looking a lot more like himself again now, even if she suspects what's going on beneath the surface to be an entirely different story.

to business, then. she had better get this distraction going for the both of them. turning back to the map, she taps her finger on a spot ringed in red ink. ] This one. It's a stone's throw away from the Clocktower. Only a small garden, by Estate District standards, but at least that gives us another option for a hiding spot or a route inside should we need it.

[ the inside, as Evie suspects, is a different story. but for now it's possible to ignore, so that is what he'll do. ] Oh, only a small garden? I hope we're not accidentally robbing them blind, then, they're practically poor already.

[ 'accidentally'. the bigger joke is that any garden at all will cost a fortune in Dunwall, as they both know very well. ] How tall is it, do you know?

[ attic windows, more floors and rooms than people in it, people will often lose track of what they've left open. of course, they do need to get to the cellar, but he does still like a bit of sparkle, if they happen upon something or another. ]

[ she smirks at his quip, the curve of her mouth sharp and wicked, before she answers his question. ]

Four stories, plus the cellar we're looking for. [ honestly, what need do people have for that much space in a house? what an ostentatious waste of wealth, even were the city not still half on its knees from the events of the rat plague. ] Thinking of taking a stroll on our way down?

[ #disastertwins catchall post ]

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