[ He's new to Kirkwall– but then, isn't that the story of nearly everyone here? The city is in unrest. Or rather, the world is. With the Blight just across the way in Ferelden, causing people to flee left, right, and center. Kirkwall was the closest haven, even if that word doesn't really describe the place. It's packed to the brim with refugees and the city hasn't exactly been welcoming.
Still, it's better than the alternative. So he stays, ducks just enough under the radar. He made his name as a thief for hire in Ferelden before, but that hasn't carried over here. It's a fresh start in a way. Bad since he has no contacts. Good because he has no strings attached. It's just him forging a new name for himself. Most of the jobs he's taken have been easy, solo, in and out.
This time though, he knows he's going to need at least one other person. Which brings him to the Hanged Man, places him at the bar where he can sip his drink and keep sharp eyes out for someone who might match the skillsets he's looking for. Thus far, it's just been one person– a raucous pirate woman on the other side of the bar. She's all flash; glint of gold, of teeth, of skin. But he's just watched her pickpocket at least three people.
Yeah, alright.
Arthur downs the rest of his drink before sliding over to her, all charming smiles. ]
[Isabela on the other hand had been laying low in Kirkwall for different reasons. Contrary to what the story tellers say, the life of a pirate isn't nearly as glamorous as it sounded. Sickness ravaging a crew, wild spontaneous storms, men cramped and antsy for a woman to bed for the night...it definitely had it's struggles, but all the wild tales and money earned was worth it. Her name had likely been tossed around here and there in hushed whispers for reasons both infamous and vulgar, but she'd come back to town to 'earn' some money to aid in repairs of her ship.
As to why she's at the Hanged Man, scummiest yet most popular bar in all of Lowtown? Well, the lack of questions asked for starters, and how even filching the most pompous of unlucky people coming in for a drink of coin is met with irritated looks and shouts for silence. The drinks weren't too bad either, if you put your standards aside for a night and drank till it didn't matter anymore.
But so far, her pockets sit with a nice weight of money, some she'd planned to use toward a drink or tree, the rest to put toward her ship she'd docked away from the eyes of the port authority. She's finishing up her second drink in fact when he comes over, and she regards him with a thorough once over and a chuckle as she waves at the bartender for attention. ]
You can, if you don't mind that I have particular tastes. [Mainly of the more expensive kind, especially if its on someone else's dime. She gives him a charming yet sly smile of her own, wondering what he could possibly want to approach her so eager and bold. Hopefully he wasn't another one of the many men she'd already waved off tonight to avoid their awful poetry.] Usually I like the higher end of the whiskey they have here, it tastes only slightly less of piss and bad decisions.
I'd be more worried if you didn't have discerning taste.
[ It's a bit tongue in cheek, a veiled meaning underneath the one she's talking about. Sometimes, you can tell the measure of a person by how well they read between the lines, by what isn't said so much as implied.
And sometimes, you can also read a person by what they preferred to drink. That isn't an exact science by any means, but it's a place to start. Already, her choice says she likes some of the finer things. Not because she's spoiled, but because she's had it in the past. She works hard, earns her keep; she deserves it.
Arthur doesn't have trouble acquiescing to it. He waves the bartender over and orders two, sets the money on the counter as proof. The barkeep walks away and comes back a minute later, swaps the coin for the drinks. ]
I'll take your advice. [ And then he leans in a bit, friendly to any outsider looking in, voice dropping just enough. ]
What else can you do, in addition to those nimble fingers? I have an offer you might be interested in.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
if you're a joker // isabela/arthur
Date: 2017-12-30 11:46 am (UTC)Still, it's better than the alternative. So he stays, ducks just enough under the radar. He made his name as a thief for hire in Ferelden before, but that hasn't carried over here. It's a fresh start in a way. Bad since he has no contacts. Good because he has no strings attached. It's just him forging a new name for himself. Most of the jobs he's taken have been easy, solo, in and out.
This time though, he knows he's going to need at least one other person. Which brings him to the Hanged Man, places him at the bar where he can sip his drink and keep sharp eyes out for someone who might match the skillsets he's looking for. Thus far, it's just been one person– a raucous pirate woman on the other side of the bar. She's all flash; glint of gold, of teeth, of skin. But he's just watched her pickpocket at least three people.
Yeah, alright.
Arthur downs the rest of his drink before sliding over to her, all charming smiles. ]
Hey, can I get a lady like you a drink?
no subject
Date: 2018-01-04 09:31 am (UTC)As to why she's at the Hanged Man, scummiest yet most popular bar in all of Lowtown? Well, the lack of questions asked for starters, and how even filching the most pompous of unlucky people coming in for a drink of coin is met with irritated looks and shouts for silence. The drinks weren't too bad either, if you put your standards aside for a night and drank till it didn't matter anymore.
But so far, her pockets sit with a nice weight of money, some she'd planned to use toward a drink or tree, the rest to put toward her ship she'd docked away from the eyes of the port authority. She's finishing up her second drink in fact when he comes over, and she regards him with a thorough once over and a chuckle as she waves at the bartender for attention. ]
You can, if you don't mind that I have particular tastes. [Mainly of the more expensive kind, especially if its on someone else's dime. She gives him a charming yet sly smile of her own, wondering what he could possibly want to approach her so eager and bold. Hopefully he wasn't another one of the many men she'd already waved off tonight to avoid their awful poetry.] Usually I like the higher end of the whiskey they have here, it tastes only slightly less of piss and bad decisions.
no subject
Date: 2018-06-29 05:34 am (UTC)[ It's a bit tongue in cheek, a veiled meaning underneath the one she's talking about. Sometimes, you can tell the measure of a person by how well they read between the lines, by what isn't said so much as implied.
And sometimes, you can also read a person by what they preferred to drink. That isn't an exact science by any means, but it's a place to start. Already, her choice says she likes some of the finer things. Not because she's spoiled, but because she's had it in the past. She works hard, earns her keep; she deserves it.
Arthur doesn't have trouble acquiescing to it. He waves the bartender over and orders two, sets the money on the counter as proof. The barkeep walks away and comes back a minute later, swaps the coin for the drinks. ]
I'll take your advice. [ And then he leans in a bit, friendly to any outsider looking in, voice dropping just enough. ]
What else can you do, in addition to those nimble fingers? I have an offer you might be interested in.