Post by Feliks £ukasiewicz on Nov 30, 2012 20:59:42 GMT -5
Feliks wished he could've worn one of his dresses down here to the docks, the soft folds of fabric around his legs being a safety blanket of sorts, but it wasn't safe for any type of women without an escort. After all, he was here to meet a new contact. First impressions were better if you showed up as yourself.
The blonde man ran his hands over the thighs of his pants, feeling more then slightly exposed, as he walked down a pier toward the shady fisherman's pub he had arranged to meet at. It was a place where you wouldn't want to drink too much, or you'd wake up and find yourself dead. And you kept a close watch on your purse, or it would grow legs and wonder off. The one good thing it provided, and the reason it was selected, was that there was no need to be covert. All the cliques in the place kept to themselves and didn't bother the others, so there was no chance of being overheard.
Feliks took a deep breath and stepped inside. Taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darker atmosphere, he surveyed the joint for his contact, a tall man with glasses. After only spotting the usual crop of fisherfolk, the Polish man got himself a pint of ale from the barman and laid claim to a corner table. He'd play the part of a man newly rejected by his sweetheart until his new contact arrived.
Post by Berwald Oxenstierna on Nov 30, 2012 23:53:32 GMT -5
The sharp bite of salt in the air had a wave of content coursing through Berwald's veins as his heavy boots made an unmistakable thumping on the well worn planks. Perhaps after his little rendezvous he would take a long walk off the end of the pier and swim for a while. After all, why waste the chance when he was already down here? It's not like he had anything too terribly important to do today that couldn't be done tomorrow.
Allowing his steps to lengthen just a bit, it was no surprise when the pub came into his sight. It was a surprise, however, when his forehead roughly collided with the weathered door frame and caused a low, strangled growl to leave his throat. Sonofa- Releasing a hiss of either pain or irritation, likely both, Berwald ducked his head the few extra inches that the entrance lacked-- "D'mn do'rway..."-- before stepping inside.
Berwald threw his eyes around the room in an effort to find his newest middleman. Granted, the pub was ridiculously dark and it proved difficult for him to pick anyone out of the crowd. It would have helped immensely if more people were standing instead of lounging sullenly at tables. Honestly, how was he supposed to find one man amongst this hoard if he couldn't see any features? Finding a short blonde man shouldn't be so infuriatingly difficult!
Post by Feliks £ukasiewicz on Dec 6, 2012 0:16:47 GMT -5
The flash of the light from the doorway caught Feilks' attention. The large shadow that filled it was surely his contact. His green eyes brightened as he sized up, literally, this new man. He wasn't gonna announce it to the whole bar who they were, so the Pole watched as the tall man made his way into the bar. Feliks waited for him to get close enough that a small wave would catch the arms-dealer's attention.
Suddenly, Feliks' heart jumped into his throat. He had no reason to be nervous, but he was. He swallowed down the lump and stood to wave to the bartender for a refill of his now empty beer. This was all part of the pageant to make sure his contact noticed him.
Post by Berwald Oxenstierna on Dec 6, 2012 23:19:15 GMT -5
Grumbling in irritation as she practically stalked to the bar, Berwald caught several men distance themselves from him. Rightfully so as he was positive the expression on his face was less than friendly. But it was likely a good representation of how he was feeling under the surface.
What if his contact was running late? That would explain why he couldn't spot him. A sudden movement caught his eye and he adjusted his gaze to spot a blonde patron waving to the barkeep. Upon closer inspection he noted the height and features of said man. Realization soared through his mind and he couldn't help but aprove. If you blended in with the crowd then you wouldn't get caught. Sm'rt man.
Altering his path and making for the other man Berwald couldn't help but straighten some. First impressions, right? As he neared his target he cleared his throat and hoped his voice wasn't too low as to go unheard. "Th's seat tak'n?"
Post by Feliks £ukasiewicz on Dec 16, 2012 14:38:34 GMT -5
"Th's seat tak'n?"
Feliks jumped at the voice, and looked up and up and up. This new contact of his was tall, intimidatingly tall. The short man decided to play the game a bit longer, testing the arms-dealer. His green eyes peered into the new mug of beer that the barkeep thumped down on the table. "I'm waiting for the trickster that will solve my problems." Feliks cringed inside, it was horribly cheesy and he hoped the other man would understand.
Post by Berwald Oxenstierna on Dec 16, 2012 17:00:35 GMT -5
"I'm waiting for the trickster that will solve my problems."
Blinking lazily at the shorter man for a brief moment Berwald pulled out a chair and sat down with his arm on the back. He locked his eyes on the other blonde and let his gaze sharpen. Quite the cl'ver m'n. No surpr'se he's lasted so l'ng.
Reaching out to grab the mug of beer from the table, Berwald leaned back in his chair to prop his feet on the table and bright the mug to his lips. "Trickster, va? Tricksters don't s'lve probl'ms, they m'ke th'm," and with that he tipped his head back and let the drink go down his throat.
Post by Feliks £ukasiewicz on Dec 16, 2012 22:23:47 GMT -5
Feliks wrinkled his nose at his tablemate's horrible table manners, but choked back his disdain. Table manners had no place in a shady bar like this one. The fence watched the taller man drink down his beer before responding to his statement. "Some problems require a tricky solution." He pushed some hair out of his face before waving to the barkeep once more for another pint of beer. The small Polish man wasn't a big fan of beer but that's all their was to drink in the dive. "So what brings you to the Docks?"
Post by Berwald Oxenstierna on Dec 17, 2012 1:54:09 GMT -5
Berwald had to restrain a laugh threatening to burst from him. Tricky solutions? He was perhaps the most qualified person when it came to those; he was the king and everyone else simply followed his example. Why else would he be here if he didn't excel at what he did?
Setting the empty mug on the table with a gentleness one would never associate with a man of his size Berwald let his eyes bore into the man. "Perh'ps yer right. Who else t' solve a tr'cky probl'm than the trickster hims'lf?" He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow slightly. "Could ask y' the s'me thing. But 'm just here t' cause m'schief."
Post by Feliks £ukasiewicz on Dec 22, 2012 22:46:59 GMT -5
Feliks smiled at his tablemate's response. "I said I was waiting for a trickster." He took a swig of the new beer the barman brought him, examining the tall man as he swallowed. "You wouldn't happen to know a trickster?"
The blonde fence was growing tired of the game. It was time to show their cards and move on to true business. He hoped this man was the man he was here to meet. It was always awkward when one went through all the subterfuge with a random person.
Post by Berwald Oxenstierna on Dec 23, 2012 4:00:27 GMT -5
Berwald had to force the scoff rising in his throat down. He was seriously starting to doubt his tablemate's intelligence level. But nonetheless he remained where he sat, relaxing farther in his seat. " 'course Ah kn'w a trickster. See him every t'me Ah look in the m'rror," he crossed his arms behind his head, "Name's Loke. Wh't can Ah do for y'?"
Maybe if he played it straight the man would realize who he was. As a small, devious smirk made it's way onto his face Berwald he couldn't help but let a quiet chuckle escape him. This might not be a total waste of his time after all. How could the king of twists, turns, deceit and mischief ever play things straight?