Where the Streets Have No Name [Closed]
Posted: Thu Apr 25, 2019 6:42 pm
The Basin • Anaxas/ Vienda
On the 15th of Bethas, 2719 • Afternoon
Garmon nibbles weren't a legitimate meal, but they were as close to real food as Adam could get this close to the Basin. Some boxing match had ceased about half an hour ago, and the participants had long since left. But people still lingered, talking, joking, trading cakes of King's Crop this way and that.
Adam wasn't here to trade. That wasn't his vice, and it had never been. But he was here to watch, and the way to watch and to not stand out too much -- yet -- was to find something to eat from one of the stands and to mingle like he was one of the crowd.
It had been windy and blustery the past few days and so, even though it was still cold and would likely be colder still in a few days' time, the placid temperatures meant more people were out and about this afternoon. That was a bonus. It meant that his presence here woudn't be one of a scant number.
Finishing off the last fried bit of meat, he looked for somewhere to toss the newspaper wrapper, coated with sweet and sour sauce. There weren't a lot of legitimate options, but judging from the litter on the street from the crowd that had been watching the boxing match, that didn't particularly matter. Still, manners prevailed despite his knowing better. He made his way back to the vendor, pulling an apologetic frown, motioning without a word to the trash sack that sat nearby the kiosk -- just as a transaction behind the stall, barely hidden, caught his eye.
He let the trash drop into the sack, focused on the interaction. A likely wick, judging from the ebb and flow of the field around the scraggly-looking woman, and a fellow human male. A small batch of something -- but it wasn't King's Crop. He wasn't an expert, but he was literate, and the 'DT' on the bag was quite clearly marked. Drake's Tongue.
It was enough to attract Adam's interest. Curious, he slipped around the kiosk, lingering a few paces past the drug deal taking place. He couldn't make out what they were saying, not exactly, but his years as a journalist in the thick of crowds made him reasonably able to read lips.
Something about Hesse sending in a new shipment, next... week? Month? The last word was muffled, gods damn it. But he couldn't move closer without making his eavesdropping obvious to the pair.
"Oi, what're you looking at?"
Clocking hell. Of course the drug deal came with muscle attached. This would go badly; there was no other option. He could talk himself out of a scrape if there was a logical explanation, but there weren't likely to be many here. He'd been seen spying on a drug deal, and there was nothing else at present to look at.
He would have given anything for a Seventen to roll up at that precise moment, as opposed to any other moment in his life, but given the location and the lack of any fight currently breaking out, he knew that was very unlikely indeed. He'd just have to take whatever punch, or punches, the hard bite nearby felt like dealing out.
"She's a looker," Adam lied blatantly, as he turned to see just what he was going to have to deal with.
Adam wasn't here to trade. That wasn't his vice, and it had never been. But he was here to watch, and the way to watch and to not stand out too much -- yet -- was to find something to eat from one of the stands and to mingle like he was one of the crowd.
It had been windy and blustery the past few days and so, even though it was still cold and would likely be colder still in a few days' time, the placid temperatures meant more people were out and about this afternoon. That was a bonus. It meant that his presence here woudn't be one of a scant number.
Finishing off the last fried bit of meat, he looked for somewhere to toss the newspaper wrapper, coated with sweet and sour sauce. There weren't a lot of legitimate options, but judging from the litter on the street from the crowd that had been watching the boxing match, that didn't particularly matter. Still, manners prevailed despite his knowing better. He made his way back to the vendor, pulling an apologetic frown, motioning without a word to the trash sack that sat nearby the kiosk -- just as a transaction behind the stall, barely hidden, caught his eye.
He let the trash drop into the sack, focused on the interaction. A likely wick, judging from the ebb and flow of the field around the scraggly-looking woman, and a fellow human male. A small batch of something -- but it wasn't King's Crop. He wasn't an expert, but he was literate, and the 'DT' on the bag was quite clearly marked. Drake's Tongue.
It was enough to attract Adam's interest. Curious, he slipped around the kiosk, lingering a few paces past the drug deal taking place. He couldn't make out what they were saying, not exactly, but his years as a journalist in the thick of crowds made him reasonably able to read lips.
Something about Hesse sending in a new shipment, next... week? Month? The last word was muffled, gods damn it. But he couldn't move closer without making his eavesdropping obvious to the pair.
"Oi, what're you looking at?"
Clocking hell. Of course the drug deal came with muscle attached. This would go badly; there was no other option. He could talk himself out of a scrape if there was a logical explanation, but there weren't likely to be many here. He'd been seen spying on a drug deal, and there was nothing else at present to look at.
He would have given anything for a Seventen to roll up at that precise moment, as opposed to any other moment in his life, but given the location and the lack of any fight currently breaking out, he knew that was very unlikely indeed. He'd just have to take whatever punch, or punches, the hard bite nearby felt like dealing out.
"She's a looker," Adam lied blatantly, as he turned to see just what he was going to have to deal with.