[Open] Business is Pleasure

[Benton Borteillo]

15 Dentis 2719 - Late Afternoon

It had been nearly a year since Benton had donned the crisp, ugly, powdered blue coat he kept pressed and clean in his wardrobe for this role. The tacky, taffy pink ascot was nearly choking him as it attempted to escape from his coat just as his very dignity had melted through and escaped from the slate grey pants and shoes that met the ground as he stepped from the carriage. He stuck out sorely against the grey sky and color-drained streets of Vienda's markets.

Gods-awful, ugly, disgusting, ruddy thing like a circus press box, he thought to himself as he saw his own conchoidal reflection in the gold railings standing at a vertical guard on either side of the red door way. It wasn't too ugly of a thing, though rather tacky- a big red box of a carriage cart drug along by a huffing and sighing moa. A single door lay at the back, whilst, where a window once was, now a pair of large, hinged-wooden doors waited to reveal a show beneath. Big gold letters burned into the side of the box, just recently touched up, announced Benton's arrival- Godfrey's Celebrated Medicines. He had worked years for this, worked just last year to start his business in Vienda through this beard- or lack there of.

It was not Benton who had arrived in Vienda. To Benton, of course, he was Benton, but, no, to anyone else who did not know Benton from any Pyoter or Stefan, this was Dr. Roderick Godfrey, some maybe-famous man from another land, by the looks of it. Indeed, this version of Benton looked slightly off, like a younger brother or a child had been asked to play Benton in a play written by someone who had never met him, close enough to maybe be right with a squint. This Benton had no grey hairs in his mess of a careless head, a mix of ink and molasses slicking his hair back tightly and hiding the growing fog of his temple. He had fully shaved, too, and, feeling facially naked, had perched a small pair of glasses that made his eyes just ever so slightly larger without hurting his head on his pointy nose. The heels of his shoes were stuffed with wedges of wood to raise him uncomfortably another inch, and he had reluctantly abandoned his cane for a pocket watch that told him how soon he could safely purge his nerves and aches with more drugs. So, no, he wasn't quite Benton, just as he wished. He was some unsuspecting foreigner who stuck out sorely, but it was a good sorely that made him seem foreign and a spectacle. He would just have to be careful. Drawing attention made such lies much harder.

The finishing touches to his lie were necessary. Pigeon, the scraggly moa, was bedded just behind the cart after they had pulled into a marketplace quiet under a quilted grey sky. She cooed now and again to make sure Benton didn't forget her, but he was busy. He shut the door of his carriage, though warm light still waved out from beneath it. He pulled open the large panel that covered his wonderfully displayed "medicines"- now just bottles of water while the real product waited safely inside away from disappointed thieving hands. Yet, the different shapes and different primary and secondary colors of the bottles made them look quite like real potions and medicines. They were, technically, real. The interior of the cart, barely big enough for Benton to stand hunched over, was lined with the real product. Laudanum droppers for aid with sleep and fussy babies, cocaine toothache drops, morphine cough syrup, and chew tobacco asthma solutions were all present on his shelf, and all, he knew, present in the shelves of many other apothecaries. They were medicines, however, he understood the dangers of such drugs. They were addictive, powerful, and the public could easily ignore it, especially when he named and marketed them well. Besides, they truly worked as they were supposed to. They just could come with an extra price that paid in a certain Eon's favor.

Doctor Roderick Godfrey exhaled through pursed lips, straightening a powder blue top hat with crisp white gloves. It was show time. Godfrey's Celebrated Medicines was back in business.

[Pleasance Hedgethorne]

The Stacks held little in the way of novelty these days. Pleasance had spent most of the last nine years in Brunnhold, and it’d finally gotten to her. The Familiarity of the place, the routine, the same old faces and droning voices talking about this subject or that. She wanted to experience something new yet familiar, she wanted a thrill.

So when the chance to skip Brunnhold during a weekend break came, she took it. Begging her little brother for the money she needed for fare was a degrading affair, yet with the proper amount of simpering flattery and attention to his sense of vanity, she had what she needed. She didn’t waste a moment more in his presence after acquiring the spending money, and then some.

From Brunnhold, the Aeroship took her swiftly to Vienda, in about six hours. It was a nice ride, and she got a good look at the country between Brunnhold and there. Something she hadn’t seen in quite a while. But then while just a child, separated from everything she knew, it’d been the Aeroship that occupied much of her former curiosity.

Once out on the streets of Vienda once more, she set out to explore. The streets were clean and well kept, as befitted the center of the civilized world. Yet there was color there, banners and streamers flying with gusts of wind, that chilled the air.

Pleasance wrapped her fur mantle around her. She was dressed in simple civilian clothes, another perk of going on a brief break from school. Warm tweed dress with a high collar, and a long skirt. On her feet, a pair of warm stockings, with knee-high boots on top of those. Her hands were wrapped in gloves of the same material, all of a deep purple hue.

She approached a nearby stall presently, attracted by the colors of it. Pleasance didn’t say anything to the man behind it on her arrival, but looked through his stock, sometimes venturing to touch a bottle here or a jar there.

Finally, after a moment, she looked up at the man and gave him a small smile. Her field pulsed in a friendly gesture toward the man. There was no need for ordinary etiquette and decorum. He was only a human, after all. Therefore, she didn’t feel any shame in sharing the warmth of her field.

”What are you selling here, then, mister?” She withdrew her hands, and settled them under her mantle, warming them beneath the furs. Then she added, "Medicines, hm? Anything for concentration?"

It bore mentioning, but Pleasance was not naive to life on the street, not in the least. She thought she knew a sensationalist when she saw one, and any reputable healer wasn't so likely to flaunt his qualifications by way of selling medicines as if they were sweets.

That said, she didn't have ill intent toward the man, and while she may be personally interested in some of what he had in stock, she was more interested in the money-making opportunity those goods presented in bulk amounts transported back to Brunnhold.

[Benton Borteillo]

15 Dentis 2719 - Late Afternoon

Golly, a true golly, not like the Corwynns and dirty Bad Brothers of Old Rose he was so used to, but a true, young golly, clean, rich, and uppity. She was a student, surely, by her age as all lucky bastards of golly blood were, which meant money and perhaps a sheltered naivety always fun to poke at in the streets.

Benton watched her quietly as fingers and hands danced over the bottles, only pushing himself off the side of the wagon he leaned on when she turned to him. He forced himself into a strict posture as he walked to her, bowing low with the rigidness of clockwork to close the distance from his height to hers in a respectful greeting, one certainly exaggerated. Yet, that was the goal- a peculiar exaggeration that made him seem foreign, not the whispered name of a drug dealer targeted now and again by the Seventen.

"Lovely to have your interest, miss" he greeted lightly as he rose from his bow. He played into the natural accent that had lined his tongue and ears for the first twenty years of his life- the light, bouncing, and warm accent of Bastia, the one he had learned to box away in his mind to make his identity more ambiguous in business.

He tapped the golden letters of his cart. "Medicines, yes'm, of teas, oils, potions, proven in Bastia to help ease the ailments of life- pains, aches, sleeplessness, nightmares, coughs, burns, rashes, but also, yes! Medicines and teas for concentration, relaxation of nerves, creativity- all many things that someone like you- who I assume to be a student at the wonderful school of Brunnhold may find, ah, useful." He moved closer to the window, nearly having to crouch under the cart he had had built assuming himself without a top hat and without an extra inch of height stuffed into his shoes. He pulled the bottles from the shelf as he spoke, white gloves dusting some invisible dust and dirt away.

Benton held up a translucent green bottle shaped like an old nursemaid. Inside, water, the faux potion, licked the side of the glass invitingly. A small tag handwritten in a fancied cursive announced Cleoma Oil, for focus. And it was just that, an oil from the purple Cleoma flowers that was being used for focus and studying in the outreaches of Bastia as it sedated all lust, hunger, thirst temporarily and left behind a burst of unrivaled energy and organization of the mind. Of course, overused, it caused those affected to stop eating and drinking, but overuse was the downfall of every medicine, Benton knew. He swirled it before her.

"Not too common here in Anaxas yet, though students across Vita are getting some use out of it. Gives you energy, gives you focus, gives you organization and motivation, and wears off typically after three hours allowing you still time to sleep unlike a few other hyper drugs like this." he explained, well-trained in his script, before setting it carefully back on the shelf. He pulled off another bottle, this one a red obelisk.

"Of course, as a student in Brunnhold, I am sure you have some familiarity with Creative Laudanum- all the rage with the creative students today. It iss cheaper, yes, but you may find yourself awake far into the night if you do not plan your dosages correctly. Too, it is not much of a concentration drug. Rather the opposite. But, if you need ideas or an active brain, laudanum is a good second choice. All assuming what kind of concentration it is you need. " Benton shrugged. holding the bottle of laudanum out for her to see. On the shelf remained several more vessels of a prismacolor range of color and size from- a red orb again of laudanum, this time a stronger concentration of alcohol that induced sleep and warded off nightmares, a brown dropper of cocaine toothache drops and teething drops for babies and dental patients alike, a cough syrup of morphine that coated the throat, a clear bottle of a strong, milky solution of white chan that eased muscle pain and tension,

He turned to her with the slightest of smiles, inviting her business and questions.

[Pleasance Hedgethorne]

Well, maybe she wasn't as street-savvy as she wished to believe. When she heard his exotic, Bastian accent, much of her reservations toward the street druggist melted away. There was something about foreign accents that engendered credulity. Perhaps it was the absence of familiarity, the known tics and tells that told one that another might not be completely on the up and up.

She would've liked to drag him home and show him off to her parents. She'd do it too if only to see the look on their faces when she dragged a Bastian human in as her escort. Of course, such an encounter would be deadly for the Bastian man, but it'd be so worth it to her mind. If only to see her parents taken down a peg, for the distance they'd brokered with Pleasance. Then they'd regret all but cutting her off from a greater allowance!

"Lovely to have your interest, miss," He said in that delicious tongue of his.

She removed her glove, and extended her hand for him to kiss, an automatic reflex when being greeted by a man, "Call me Pleasance, if you wish." Whether he took it or not, she'd let it stand there a moment before retracting and putting the glove back on.

She watched as he made his practiced pitch, showing off the various brews, teas, drops, and potions. They all looked good, colored in multiple shades and saturations to draw the eye, and probably for identification by the seller, but also to entice the buyer. She had to admit feeling like a little girl in the sweet shop when he pointed out the brighter potions.

Her lips curved downward, as it appeared he had few enough of the drugs she'd want in pill form. The energy and focus potion sounded good; she'd just like to have it in pills of single dosages, or something similar.

Her eye was drawn from the Cleoma Oil, toward Creative Laudanum. She had indeed heard of Laudanum. It was said to stimulate thought, and would doubtless be useful in her study sessions, as well as those of her friends.

"Hmmm, do you have any in a pillbox? Or do you only work in potions and drops?" She tapped her chin with her finger as she considered the options. She lowered her voice as she said the next bit, "Do you sell in bulk?"

She wanted to convey somehow that she was willing to transport for him, in exchange for a wholesaler's discount and perhaps a small sampling of one drug or another for her use. Then again, didn't they say that druggists rarely took their stock? Something about a drunken bartender. Anyway, to come out with that bit of interest would've been too forward, even for Pleasance.

She wanted him to come to the idea on his own so that it'd be that much more convincing and persuasive. She looked at him patiently for the moment, maintaining an innocuous smile.

[Benton Borteillo]

15 Dentis 2719 - Late Afternoon

"Doctor Roderick Godfrey, Miss Pleasance," he introduced herself after her own invitation, taking the hand she offered in his white gloves and bringing it to his lips softly. "Though, please, Roderick suffices." he added, straightening up.

He had always hated- no, no that wasn't the right word. He had always marveled at how comfortable the candy of his fake names- Doctor Roderick Godfrey, EON, Borteillo- melted sweetly in his mouth, while his birth name was foreign and ugly on his tongue. He used these pen names more than his own name, dead and forgotten in an attic back in Bastia, and, sometimes, sometimes he almost hated the unease that settled into his stomach if he thought too nostalgically about his name and his family. Yet, this was business, he knew, and his old life, his old name was far away now, not his anymore.

He noticed her frown drip down her chin as he showed off his potions, and with a business man's quickness, he tried to figure what could possible be wrong.

Pills, the ugly things that were, though inexpensive, a pain. They were much harder to explain to a Seventen when traveling, and, perhaps the primary reason Benton didn't deal them, they were terribly annoying for a one man operation to manufacture and package. Tea leaves were easy, bottles easier, but gods-damned-pills...

"You want pills, lovely? Hmph, I will be honest- I must disappoint you and say I do not. I tell you this- I am a traveling man, and pills are suspicious things for an officer or politician to see on a foreigner. But, an intelligent lady like yourself wants pills? I am quite sure we could make an arrangement for me to send you whatever pills and bulk you need," he matched her tone, the lowness of her voice familiar in his business. He smiled at her, no change and demeanor to be seen from anyone out of earshot. She was surely a beginner in this game- the change in her tone was quick and suspicious and, had Benton been a true doctor, he may have been disgusted.

He was not a doctor. It had been a long time since he had had a Brunnhold contact. Aziza had worked for him for a few months running packages in and out of the stacks, but, well, there was frankly only so far a wick like her could go in a place like the Stacks and Brunnhold. But this young lady, Pleasance- she was easy to speak to, and she seemed to know what she wanted- two very good attributes of a contact for Benton. Too, she was a galdor which led Benton down two avenues of thought- I do not care if she gets hurt/ and She has the social access I am lacking.

"Well, I may have something that catches your interest inside, actually," he started pointing to the small red carriage's short doorway at the back. Inside, his real potions and remedies awaited, but, more importantly, inside was the privacy to speak alone. "If you will follow me, miss, we can discuss what else I have to offer."

Should she take his offer, Benton would carefully help her up into the carriage that had been modified into much more of a live-in wagon. Inside, several candles and a table lamp would brightly greet them and illuminate the inside of the wagon, a red, carpeted plush interrupted only by polished wood-paneling on the walls. Benton, following her, would leave the door cracked open for her comfortability in a stranger's wagon, and would sit on one of the two plush benches that chatted from either side of the carriage. Any free space of the walls and floors she would find to be filled with boxes and shelves of packaged bottles and potions.

"Now, business."

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Late Afternoon, 15 Dentis, 2719
Kingsway Market, Vienda

It was not Thul Ka, of course, but Nkemi had discovered that Vienda had markets of its own. She was now more than one week into her stay in the city; on some days, it had rained very heavily, and she had not enjoyed that very much. Today was, at least, dry, though the sun did not seem to have risen; the sky overhead had stayed gray all through the time when it should have been bright and clear, and as a result all the cobblestone streets were still damp with rain from the day before.

It was, as well, terribly cold.

“It is a lovely scarf,” Nkemi said, wistfully, small fingers stroking the thick orange wool. She looked up at the man behind the counter with a bright smile. “It will be warm?” Nkemi asked, hopefully. She did not expect truth, of course, not from a human, but she was hopeful nonetheless. She thought the orange wool would look very nice with the yellow that she had wrapped around her head; she had not known about wearing scarves around one’s neck before she had come to Anaxas, but she had discovered that one’s neck grew very cold when exposed, and she thought she would be much happier with a second scarf.

Nkemi weighed the coins in her small purse, carefully, at the news of the price. She studied the scarf very intently; she ran her small, ungloved fingertips over the wool once more.

“I should very much like to get it,” Nkemi said. “It is as lovely as the sunset over Thul Ka,” she beamed at the vendor. “Only I am not sure whether I can a beautiful luxury just now,” Nkemi, reluctantly, withdrew her fingers from the wool, and began to walk away.

“Wait!” The vendor called.

Nkemi paused, and glanced back over her shoulder, wide-eyed.

A few moments later, the Mugrobi was cheerfully walking away from the booth, having traded fewer coins than expected for the bright length of wool. She wrapped it carefully around her neck, and tucked the wool into itself. It went nicely with the too-large brown coat that she had borrowed from another Seventen, Aleson; it was a little worn, but warmer than anything Nkemi had brought with her. Her baton was tucked on her right side, hidden behind the side of the big coat; with the bright yellow scarf wrapped around her head and the warm orange on her neck, Nkemi was very nearly warm. She tucked her hands into her pockets, and glanced bright-eyed around the market, wandering curiously. She was used to being small; in Mugroba, she was very much smaller than humans and wicks, and smaller too than many other galdori. It was not so different to be smaller than these Anaxi, the galdori with their bright red hair, and the humans, mostly, all the rest, with darker colors, but all of them very pale.

Up ahead of her, there was a stall with brightly colorful bottles; Nkemi admired them, liking the display very much. There was a human helping a lady – Nkemi thought she was probably a galdor – into the back of it, gallantly; he shut the door behind them, leaving it just a crack open.

Nkemi shifted, curiously; she glanced around. There were no Seventen, not that she could see; she knew that they patrolled here, of course. She was not herself a guard; she did not do anything like patrol. She was not a Seventen either, and she did not have the authority to conduct investigations; so far as she could tell, Anaxas lacked anything like a proper prefect system.

The small Mugrobi set out for the wagon. She settled next to the door, studying the display attentively nearby, listening quietly for just a moment. Only then did Nkemi take a noisy step onto the outside step of the carriage, and knock at the door. “Good afternoon?” Nkemi called, curiously, the lilting consonants of her thoroughly Mugrobi-accented Estuan drifting inside. “Pardon me? Is anyone there?” Her eyes were wide, and there was a bright, friendly smile on her face.

[Pleasance Hedgethorne]

Her smile widened when he took her hand to bring it gently to his lips after he introduced himself. "Oh, pardon me, Doctor." Then he corrected her, and she summoned a blush to her cheeks, "Roderick..."

She stifled a sigh as he let go, and she tucked her hand back into the glove. He went on to explain how what she wanted was not available at his stall, although he was careful not to dash her hopes entirely. She nodded at his explanation that it would be hard to explain pills to officers and politicians. "Yes, and in great amounts, they'd rattle, wouldn't they?" She mused about the difficulties of carrying pills.

Pleasance hadn't considered that, to be honest. She just assumed these candymen were there for the convenience of her and her peers. But she supposed they had their own set of inconveniences and difficulties to contend with. One of her philosophy professors had warned against the short-sightedness of certain Galdor. A mentally deficient perspective that could crop up in the course of their lives, one of these being solipsism. The idea that the world ceased to run when the self wasn't around to experience it. Well, of course, that wasn't the case! But it was easy to forget that these creatures made to serve the Galdor had to serve themselves, from time to time.

"I am quite sure we could make an arrangement for me to send you whatever pills and bulk you need," She heard him say, and another coy smile crept across her lips.

"Doctor Roderick, that would make me and so many others very happy." He went on to invite her to speak privately in the back of his wagon, and she nodded, her eyes darkening in hidden mischief, "Shall we talk inside then?"

She followed along behind him. Pleasance took the opportunity to straighten her hair, and the clip that kept it in place. The clip was a pneumatic switchblade, and she was just double-checking to make sure it was still there. She wasn't confident in its use, but it was better to have that as a surprise attack in case his intentions weren't correct. But she believed this man wasn't the sort to force himself. And truth be told, she was intrigued enough that she could tolerate a harmless dalliance if he played his cards right.

So she sat down on the plush bench inside the wagon, and nodded to him. "So I'm interested, Roderick... Tell me more about what you had in mind?" She crossed her legs in the seat, and placed her hands down on her lap, waiting for him to tell her what he wished to.

Just then, however, came a knock on the wagon door. Pleasance nearly jumped when she heard it, yet forced herself to appear calm. She was having a legitimate business meeting with her new friend, after all. There was absolutely nothing to be paranoid about, yet.

She looked at the door, and then back to Roderick with a quirked eyebrow, "Are we expecting company, Doctor?"

[Benton Borteillo]

15 Dentis 2719 - Late Afternoon

Benton settled himself across from her, knees high to his chest in a carriage made for little gollies like his new companion. He wanted to be concise, yes, but it was also incredibly important for her to feel comfortable and safe. Afterall, she was a young lady clearly inexperienced in the world of humans and drug dealing, and he was a human. Any cry from a golly that he had done this or that could mean his end here in Vienda, and he had oh, so many more plans to execute in his lifetime. So, he sat across from her. He kept his hands clearly in view as he reviewed his gloves finger by finger and sat them on the table. He leaned back and crossed his ankle to his knee, making him much less mobile. Too, like any gentleman, he unbuttoned his jacket as he sat and placed his top hat onto the table before him, straightening his hair with a brush of bare hands before resting his hands on either side of him on the plush bench. He did everything he could to remove any chance of intimidation he held against her that he could.

"Well, miss. We seem to both be business people who know what they want from the world," he started, but a rapping at the door sent his business into a chaos. Her calmness fell away for a moment of shock before she regained her composure, while he stood suddenly, barely managing to keep from concussing himself against the low ceiling. Quickly, he buttoned his jacket again, all the while whispering to her.

"Do let me lead this, miss. There's nothing to fear. We are just two nice people striking up business and conversation," he whispered, calm but forceful all the same. He made sure his collar was straight, hair in place, afraid any sign of dishevelment would be suspicious. Leaving his gloves and hat, he stepped to the door and opened it, smile already warmly painted across his face.

Below him by both steps and feet was a small woman. She stuck out warmly from the clouds with her dark skin and bright yellow and orange clothes making her like a glorious sunflower on the steps of his wheeled palace. Without stepping down the stairs, he bowed to her.

"Good afternoon, miss! Roderick Godfrey, here to serve your medical needs," he greeted her with all the jubilance he could conjure up at this surprise visitor. That was the brand he created for Roderick, of course- quick-thinking, observant, always joyous. He looked her over further, her own clothing color pallet reminding him of the swatches he had in mind for Roderick's closet. Clearly, by her tone and appearance, she was from Mugrobi, a country Benton had admired for so many years of his life for the richness of culture, especially that of drugs.

"Your clothes are like mine- bringing joy to us foreigners not used to the drab grey of Vienda, hm?" He nodded to himself as he compared the sun of her scarves to the blue sky of his suit, and, casually, he pushed the door open behind him slightly to allow his visitor to see into the carriage, see the answers to any questions she may have for herself.

"This young lady and I were just discussing more private matters of medical issues and solutions," he explained in a low whisper of exaggerated privacy to this new visitor. "But, please! Your business and conversation is welcome on my ears. What can a simple human like me do for a vibrant traveler like yourself, hmm?"

"Perhaps just some assam tea to ward away the cold?" he chuckled goodnaturedly, easing himself into character as he noticed how heavily dressed she was in only Dentis. He glanced back at Pleasance, offered a small smile and a shrug of let's-hope-this-is-good-enough and hope-you-haven't-anywhere-to-be, and stepped out of the carriage doorway, neck aching from being hunched over.

Internally, Benton cheered! The nerves, the energy, the tension- this was what he missed in the now drab routine of selling to regulars. This chaos was what he loved. He smiled at the simple excitement of it all.

[Nkemi pezre Nkese]

Late Afternoon, 15 Dentis, 2719
Kingsway Market, Vienda

Nkemi had not heard very much from outside; only something quiet about being interested, and something else about business. She had not been able to hear well enough to make out more, or to trust that to wait would lead to any better information. That was, if even there was anything to learn.

Nkemi could not have said, not quite, what it was that had drawn her to the carriage, only that she did not wish to go without inquiring. It was only asking questions, Nkemi told herself, virtuously; there was no harm in it.

Nkemi had had a very long day - many very long days - and too many of them had been spent inside. She had thought to come to the market to see some people who were not dressed in Seventen green, and to find some warm things for the awful autumn chill. Even in Mugroba, such things were left to the purview of the neighborhood guards. A prefect investigated known crimes, especially those beyond the ability of the local watches; they did not sniff about in the street for crimes.

And yet here she was; Nkemi did not regret coming to investigate in the least. She did not think it right to ignore her instincts, not here, and not anywhere.

There was a brief wait, and the faintest sound of whispering; Nkemi, straining, could make out nothing but the impression of sound. The dark haired man who opened the door greeted her with a flourishing accent; different, Nkemi thought, from the usual Vienda one.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ruderik,” Nkemi said cheerfully, pronouncing the non-Mugrobi name very carefully. She smiled brightly at the comparison between their clothing, touching her scarf with a small hand, clearly pleased. “I hope the sun shall follow the example of your suit,” Nkemi said, fervently.

Nkemi smiled at the young-looking galdor inside the carriage. “Good afternoon, miss. Have I interrupted?” She asked, smiling at the woman, looking as well at what she could see if the wares inside. “My apologies,” Nkemi inclined her head and looked back up at the human.

Nkemi did not give him very much room; she wished to stay close to the open door, and the small room inside. “I noticed the bright colors of your display,” Nkemi said, admiringly. “I thought perhaps... you are a tea salesman?” She asked, brightly, curiously.

Perhaps Anaxas was truly very different from Mugroba, Nkemi thought. She could not imagine any galdori going to a human doctor in Mugroba, if one even bore the name. The best medical doctors were trained at Thul’Amat, or even in Mestigia or Brunnhold. There were some who sought herbal or natural cures, and some wicks with reputations for providing such. But a human?

Nkemi’s smile was a bright and friendly, and did not waver in the least. She had meant it, every word; she was very curious to learn more.

[Pleasance Hedgethorne]

While Roderick was making himself more comfortable, and establishing a submissive air about him, Pleasance couldn't help but roll her eyes. By the time he'd taken off his gloves and then unbuttoned his jacket, she lifted a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. She almost hoped he was like one of the humans she read about in scandalous and puerile romance novels that sometimes circulated in the girl's dormitories. The kind of pernicious rake that would just as soon kiss a Galdor lady's hand as tear off her clothing. This one seemed far too cautious for her liking. Nevertheless, it wasn't the point of her stopping and entering his wagon. So she let it be. She was only a little offended at his lack of interest in her.

She just smiled calmly at him as he compared them both, putting her on equal footing as himself, two business persons on equal footing. Which to her mind they were not. Yet far be it for her to banish his illusions. She still had in mind to get some sport out of this human. She didn't want to get him in trouble, at least unless it became apparent that he wasn't willing to cut her into his operation. If that was the case, she might just pinch herself until tears well up, and complain to her parents about the savage and mean-spirited Bastian human who'd lured her into his wagon.

Yet as they were underway, then the woman appeared at the door. Pleasance nodded to Roderick, allowing that he would take the lead. It'd be far too easy to throw him under the wagon, so she would instead go the challenging route of playing along with his game, to see if she could keep up with him. Who knows, she might be able to squeeze some fun out of this 'Doctor' yet.

She nodded to him, when he assured her there was nothing to fear. Well of course, she had nothing to fear. She was a mere captive, afterall, about to get rescued by a fellow Galdori. At least that was her fall-back position if his attempts to misdirect the woman fell by the wayside.

As he interacted with the Mugrobian, she was impressed with how he handled himself. The agility of his mind and glibness of tongue. She said nothing, as he'd advised her. And would say nothing, until prompted to.

A situation that came about when the Mugrobian turned to her, and bid her good afternoon, "A-afternoon, m-madam." Pleasance feigned a quivering of the voice. The trembling of her greeting was a tactic, and left purposely ambiguous. Already, ideas were popping up in Pleasance's mind for how she'd explain her anxiety. Whether it be the fact that a strange human had physically forced her into this wagon, or if she was deeply concerned about her sick aunt in Brunnhold. Either choice hinged on how well Roderick's performance proceeded and what he actually said to the woman.

When the woman apologized for interrupting, Pleasance blinked, "I-it's okay." She sniffed, and took a handkerchief her breast pocket, and blew her nose on it. She blinked a few more times, her eyes began to moisten and became red with mild irritation.