[Log] An unconventional escort

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Eavesdown Docks - Persephone
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IC Time: Oct 03, 2538 - 12:44:00

Eavesdown is always busy, but Eavesdown at noon is a whole other category of bustle. Customers swarm around the food stalls - Good Dogs doing an inexplicably roaring trade; the cricket vendor similarly mobbed. Saienne, however, is oblivious to all those beats and rhythms. Instead she is embroiled in a stand up row with a pair of shady-looking individuals who have her backed into a nook between some stacked up crates. All that can really be seen is the feather in her hat, bobbing furiously, and the sound of her increasingly irate voice rising above the background babble.

Now there's an odd sight. Actual uniformed and armored Feds, moving through the crowds, rifles in hand. Two of them break off from the group, and head towards the rising scuffle, one pulling up the goggles of his helmet, baring storm-grey eyes as he draws a large pistol, and whistles sharply, the sound crackling over the loudspeakers on his facemask. "Enough!" The pistol, really more a of a light submachine gun, slides into his shoulder as the safety clicks off almost silently. "What's all this, then?" The other Fed, still 'buttoned up,' stares at the first, then whacks him on the back of the head, clearly annoyed at the cliche.


The younger of the ruffians turns as he hears the voice and, turning, saysSaienne "Ain't none of your business, that's what it is." By the time he has clocked who he is addressing - Feds - the words have escaped and he can't take them back. "Officers," he adds, lamely. "Sirs." His colleague has half-turned by now too, and takes a step back towards Saienne, who has taken her hat off. The feather droops. "This," she says to the officer, some heat still in her tone, "Is two goddamn chancers tryin' to cheat an honest businesswoman out of her hard earned livin'." She pauses to spit at the feet of the older docker. "That's what this is."


The unmasked Marine looks between the three. "All three of you take a breath, and let's Solomon this shit. Starting with Feathers over there, then ONE of these two I-hesitate-to-say-'gentlemen.'" He motions to Saienne first, weapon pointing to the ground, his well clear of the trigger. The other Marine keeps an eye out.


"Oh good goddamn," Saienne mutters. She's cautious, though. Not making sudden moves, she sets the hat down, making it clear that her hands are empty. The 'gentlemen' are passive now, amenable even, and Saienne ignores them, more or less. "They're posin', ain't they. As my client." She shakes her head, squinting at the Fed. "But they ain't the type to go for what I'm carryin', and they ain't got the right proofs." She looks over at them in contempt. "Amateurs. You think I ain't been around the 'Verse a few times already?" And truly, she does look like she has.


Adrian nods. "And you're flogging what, precisely?"


"Well," Saienne says, "It's more like a commission, ain't it? But -" and she glances around, somewhat suspiciously "- this job's been schematics. Couriered them all the goddamn way from Paquin, and I can tell you I ain't in a hurry to travel Jade Dragon again. Bedbugs, I swear it, and I ain't got no idea what they were serving for breakfast but it weren't food..." She clears her throat. "Schematics," she repeats. "Paperwork. From Paquin."


Adrian nods. "Courier work, in other words. I misinterpreted. And these two purport to be your contacts, but aren't?" He looks to the boys with the expression of a displeased drill instructor, his gaze cold enough to solidify helium.


"Courier work," Saienne affirms. She looks at the two young men. "And what kind of goddam fool d'you think I am? D'you think I was born yesterday?" The men have given up any pretence now; the elder mutters into the icy stare, with a slightly plaintive whineSaienne "Just trying to make a living ourselves." Saienne frowns. "And who gave you the tip-off, then? Xiao-Chen? Old woman should mind her own goddamn business." She turns her attention back to the Feds. "Am I free to go, officers? Only I got a real rendezvous to make, ain't I?"


Adrian gives Saienne a Look, then turns back to the boys. "No harm done other than pissing her off, no foul beyond a minor bollocking, and I haven't the patience to fill out the paperwork." He dismisses the men with another look. They don't catch the hint. "Off you fuck, boys." That clicks! He looks back to the courier. "Mind an escort? Any big problems, someone can call it in."


Saienne watches the two of them scarper, until they cannot be distinguished amidst the greater crowd. She folds her hands in front of her, and bends carefully to pick up her hat. Brushing the dust off, and setting the feather bobbing, she considers. "It surely is a kind offer," she says. Her body language speaks the volumes her voice, currently, does not. "I'm headin' to the Heights, mind, which ain't exactly your neck of the woods, I reckon."


Adrian nods thoughtfully. "Not a problem. Still in comms range, and it's only a few minutes' sprint."


Saienne crams her hat back onto her head and tilts it so that the feather dances. She pats her pockets and, glancing at the armed men before she does so, pulls her PDA out. It chimes as she turns it on. "Just checkin' the address," she says. She squints down the length of the docks, and points with her free hand. "That way." And off she strides, weaving through the crowds with practised ease.