#deusexau

[rain-a-dragomir]

Continued:

@sonofrusalka ​:

Adam nods and chuckles quietly at Rain’s explanation of his name, “It’s not bad,” he offers, “Not like we have a choice in the end.” He shrugs as his hand falls from the man’s grip. He offers a smile back and shakes his head, “Nah, don’t worry about it. Pleasure’s mine. It’s not often someone new ends up in here.” He gestures around the bar vaguely. It’s obviously seen better days like so much in this part of town, but in spite of that the proprietors still cared and did their best for the predominantly regular and loyal patrons that frequented.

Adam eyes the card that Rain puts on the bar, figuring it’s some fancy form of credit chip; he lets the discussion for that drop there. He can only push that so far and he gives a slight nod, “Well, not here in this district, but north; in Dávný District,” He shrugs at Rain’s musing, “Honestly? I’m not exactly sure what kind of music.” He glances at the man, “Just saw the posters all over; saw ‘em setting up for it.” He pauses briefly. “They’re trying hard to get people here, tourists.”

“Ahh,” Adam frowns briefly at the unfortunate tale, “Sorry to hear.” He casts a sidelong glance at the man. The tale was full of holes, but that didn’t surprise him; they’d only just barely met. It definitely confirmed Adam’s hunch that Rain was old money of some sort. That set off caution flags for him. Definitely. Those sorts of dynasties were often synonymous with Illuminati. He’d just have to be cautious.

“You think any of it ended up down here? Through organized crime or something? There’s a big antique market. You should check there if you haven’t; if you’ve still got stuff you’re looking for.” He turns to look at Rain, raising a brow above his lenses.

Rain:

“Music festival, huh.” He mused aloud as fingers wrapped around a squat looking glass that sat before him, gently moving the glass in a circular motion forcing the drink to follow suit. Cocking his head gently to one side as he worked at recalling something, a minor detail he’d probably seen but not taken in completely. “That’s what those posters were for? Had no clue myself, Czech for some reason still eludes me. German, Latin, Spanish, and a couple others are no problem.” He mused with a grin. “Guess it makes sense trying to pull in more tourism revenue, more money for the city to throw into programs and what not. On the other hand, seems like it’s a thin smokescreen to distract from the chaos that seems to be brewing out there.” He added emphasis to the end of his statement by jerking his head towards the doors. It wasn’t entirely difficult to observe the thinly veiled chaos that was already brewing around the various districts of the city. In fact, he’d only been there not even half a day and he’d became well aware things were not quite okay. While the city wasn’t burning down all around him, he became attuned to the behavioral patterns of the cities citizens and it’s law enforcement.

At one point walking from the Train station, he’d been eyeballed seven ways to Sunday, hounded over Identification. . .apparently his international passport wasn’t good enough. It probably also didn’t help things when he could the man he could do something highly inappropriate to himself and spin before walking off. It wasn’t just himself though. It appeared that, after a little time spent people watching; he learned certain citizens with a prosthesis of any kind were more than likely to be hounded. Not only by enforcement, but what he expected people who lived in the city. Really dawning on him when he took note of the small decals plastered in the windows of the vehicle rental agency as he signed a lease for a temporary car to use. The radio hadn’t improved his overall observation of the cities chaotic subtext as reports of some serial bombings taking place. At least form what he gathered thanks to the broken English being spoken.

Pulling himself back into the present, he couldn’t help but dwell on the thought of a music festival might be a great way to relax and have a good time. But the small cynical part of his brain kept leaning towards something that could be construed as a coverup. Luminous Ice colored hues glanced back towards the man with the mirrored lenses, a small grin upon his lips. “No need to apologize, not like you’re the culprit. At least I hope not.” He mused good naturedly. “Actually, I haven’t even started looking for anything yet. So far the only thing I did was take inventory of what was around and what was no longer there, made sure there wasn’t anyone hiding still. Then after that, figured I’d take a short break and maybe get lost somewhere, check out some sights, maybe be a tourist for a change. Though I haven’t even contemplated that an organized crime syndicate would traffic the stolen goods through here.” There was a brief pause while he brought the glass up to his lips, letting the cool liquid run across his tongue before setting it back down upon the counter.

“Old estate jewelry. Some of the stuff probably isn’t worth a whole lot, maybe aside from one or two pieces. Those of which I bet would cause some sort of commotion if the market value of precious metal and gems haven’t fluctuated too much. Though there is something I really do need to recover, and the fact that it was stolen sort of raises an alarm. A couple genealogy books that are up to date, at least up to the last generation. Goes back further than I know, lists everything from their birth, whom they married, their children, their final resting places and so on. Can’t help but think there is an unsettling reason why it was among the stolen. So if you’d know of any old book shops that deals with leather bound tomes, point me in the direction?” Personally Rain wasn’t quite sure just how much he could divulge to Adam, after all, they’d just met at the bar. Yet as far as he could tell, he hadn’t felt any ill will from Adam after just talking with him. There weren’t any warning sirens going off in his gut, and he seemed to relax around the man. Though there was something behind those mirrored lenses he couldn’t shake. He had the unmistakable feeling Adam was observing him closely, was it possible that he was waiting for some kind of indication? Brows furrowed as he not only mulled over the issue of the missing tomes, but the man sitting next to him. Could he be completely trusted? Could Rain trust that Adam wouldn’t sell him out to the people Rain feared had been ransacking his families home? Only time, or a few drinks could tell. 

[rain-a-dragomir]

@sonofrusalka​   Continued:

Rain:

Had it all really been a trick of the light? Just the simple mood lighting in conjunction with the ghostly trails of smoke that drifted through the place? Seemed like a completely valid explanation as any. Or so he thought as Iced hues locked onto the Bartender’s back as the man worked in putting their drinks together. From his side of the bar he couldn’t be certain if the man had ill intent when fixing their drinks, only being able to see his ghostly silhouette thanks to the back-lit display of wall mounted bottles that added to the scant illumination in the bar. Granted no one here knew who he was, he simply was just another foreign face lost in a crowd of people. So long as he had money, no one would really bat an eye. Looking no different than those with robotic limbs, or those without. There wouldn’t be any reason for the Bartender to wish him harm, unless he skimped out on a tip, this slight revelation seemingly made the man decompress a bit, broad shoulders loosening up a little as his fingers wrapped around a small glass of amber colored liquid.

He offered his thanks towards the Bartender, unsure whether the man had understood English but it seemed as if enough meaning behind the spoken word transcended language barriers and the man nodded in return. His own glass was raised towards the man wearing the mirrored shades, something of which he found both strange, and slightly normal. Aside from the fact that he could practically feel the man’s weighty stare behind those lenses, watching him, observing, waiting. Well it wasn’t like the man in the lenses knew who he was either, slowly he brought the edge of the glass to his lips when he caught the man reaching towards him out of the corner of his eye. Unsure of what to make of the situation until the man who had been on the verge of speaking finally stated he was on fire. “Uh, what?” Rain asked now genuinely confused. Half wondering whether or not this was going to be a running gag, or a new way to greet another person. At least until he could smell the scent of burning fabric, sharp, acrid, bold, against the smog of cigarette and cigar smoke that cloyed the senses.

Following the scent of burning fabric, he looked down both sets of arms. One arm was devoid of anything except the glass of Whisky he’d been holding, while the other was currently set aflame. Surprise momentarily flooded his senses as he leaned back to work himself out of his wool coat. Unfortunately the man had forgotten he was perched upon a barstool with no real back support,  the hand that held the Whisky flew up, dumping the contents upon himself and knocking him over in the process in a fantastic display of flailing limbs. The fantastic sound of his skull cracking against the aged wooden floor, and the glass clinking away across the floor into the shadows, leaving the man splayed like a murder victim; only very much alive. “Fuck, that hurt.” He croaked out in a raspy, deep voice as starbursts danced before his eyes in bright neon colors, forcing him to rapidly blink to get rid of them. As he laid upon the floor, mentally checking his body for any signs of bleeding, concussion, or other bodily injuries he might have suffered from his fall. Thankfully it didn’t seem like he’d be hurt other than a killer headache, and the fact that he appeared to mourn the loss of his favorite coat, and the Whisky he was now wearing.

“Thanks for trying to warn me, sadly I was just too deep in my own head.” He mused aloud, one hand rubbing the back of his head that must have smacked against the floor seconds earlier. Still sitting on the floor, he managed to shuk the coat off him to quickly survey the damage. The sleeve that seemed to have been put out was indeed charred, maybe salvageable, but his drink was now all over him. He wondered whether he’d end up sticky later if he hadn’t got back to his room soon. “I swear I’m not always uncoordinated.” He said, pushing himself up off the floor and lowering himself back on his stool that he flung himself from. Managing to deftly reach over the counter to grab the damp cloth the Bartender had been using to wipe everything down with, he wiped off his own hands, then peered at the fabric. It seemed reasonably clean, but that didn’t mean he was going to rub it across his face. With a sigh, he plopped it back onto the counter and extended a cleaner, less sticky hand towards the man with the mirrored lenses. “Again, thanks for the heads up. I’m Rain.” He introduced himself, Iced hues bright, even in the dim lighting.