username: oil change | text

[nachocheese]

(OOC: This post is backdated to February 6th, before the Clawing.)

I need to speak to someone in Thyvault's entourage.

Comments

un: oil change

[nachocheese]

Not sure it's safe to talk on these things. Anywhere we can meet?

[saintclaire]

OK. Somewhere in the Crossing. By the courtyard with the broken fountain?

[nachocheese]

Got it. How will I know you?

[saintclaire]

Blonde hair in a ponytail, black shoulder bag.

text ---> action?

[nachocheese]

Got it.

[ It won't be long until he is approaching the broken fountain cautiously, eyes peeled for someone who matches the description of the woman given over the pendant.

There she is. That's gotta be her. He approaches, hesitantly at first until he's able to lock eyes with her, then his pace quickens to something more normal, maybe even slightly brisk. ]

Hey.

[saintclaire]

[She meets his eyes steadily, her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket, her shoulder bag trapped between her arm and her body.]

Hey. You needed to talk to someone?

[Just in case this is a coincidence, and not him. Plausible deniability, in case a knife pops out.]

[nachocheese]

[ Nacho nods. ]

Yeah. Somebody with a ponytail.

[ His words are pointed in tone and meaningful to, well, one specific person. And hey, look! No knives! ]

[saintclaire]

[Her tone is very vaguely amused, but it doesn't quite reach her face:]

Do I get a name or do I have to keep a straight face saying "Oil Change?"

[nachocheese]

[ Nacho smirks just a little. ]

Ignacio Varga. Nacho. For short. [ Beat, as he bats his eyelashes looks her up and down. ] You are?

I THOUGHT I REPLIED OTL My apologies!

[saintclaire]

[Elevator eyes noted. She folds her arms; this is a comfortable gesture, chin high. There's something to be weighed here, and she settles on it quick enough.]

Kim Wexler. [Pointed:] Mrs. Goodman is fine too.

No worries! DW's been eating notifs lately.

[nachocheese]

[...fuck his life.

In his better moments, he understands Jimmy's perspective. So he just swallows and nods, and keeps his hands folded in front of him. And backs up a little, trying to show he means no harm.]

Nice to meet you, Mrs. Goodman. [Should he tell her to say "hi" to Jimmy for him? Nah, better not. That might come off as a threat or something, and he doesn't want to do that. Instead, he just tries to keep a respectable distance while staying close enough they can talk relatively quietly.]

So, your guy? He's sanctioning the merchants to rip off the city. Take a look behind you. [He gives a very imperceptible nod in the direction of a stand, where a younger merchant is in the process of adding some sand to the grain.]

Just thought you might wanna know.

[saintclaire]

[She expected a reaction, but his step back is mildly surprising anyway, though a positive one. And if he’s ready to get right down to business, so is she.

Kim looks out at the sea of merchant tents, unsubtle, before bringing her attention back to him. She’s in Tyvault’s circle; why should they care if she’s caught looking?]

Do you know why?

[nachocheese]

[Nacho shakes his head.]

You might have to get that outta him. He knows they do it. It's "sanctioned." That's all they tell me.

[A shrug.]

[saintclaire]

[It occurs to her, not for the first time, that she despises these people, their petty grievances while they starve their own.

Her brow furrows. ]

Did you find out this yourself or did they volunteer this information?

[nachocheese]

[Nacho hesitates. What he says next probably won't give her a better impression of him but it is the truth.]

Which part? They didn't volunteer that they were doing it. I caught some guy tryin' to punk me. [Nacho's tempestuous reaction to that initial slight hadn't yielded anything useful, but that part, he'll keep to himself.]

Came back the next day, saw a different person doing it, so I said I was a merchant too. Made like I was trying to find out what I could get away with. That's when he stated saying all the stuff about it being "sanctioned," that your guy knew about it and was cool with it.

[He wonders what his father would think of all this lying, and feels the tiniest twinge of shame. But then again, at least this time it's for a good cause, not just to line his own pockets. So maybe Papa would understand after all. His dad's not a stupid man, after all, just a good one.]