the one where things get messy.

[pathography]

tbd.

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[pathography]

He's living on credit right now, but it's a great deal better than living beside a rotting mystic, wondering just how long it would be before smell became unbearable. After a little side trip in search of his pepperbox - after all it had cost him, he'd be damned if he left without it - they'd gotten the hell out of prison. A few more hours spent convincing the group's current...patron...that a dead cultist should still be worth some gold, and they eventually retired to an inn of questionable quality. (Without a doubt, their current surroundings are better than his last quarters, but the bedding also looks liable to give them all fleas. He's also been informed that rooming with the half-giant means he'll have to learn to sleep through ungodly snoring.)

Perhaps he should be more concerned about the fact that he's fallen in with a group of mercenaries, but they don't seem especially cutthroat. They've tolerated his presence remarkably well, as well as shone willingness to pay for his dinner and lodging until he's earned his own coin. (Only the pale, dark-haired half-elf is still openly looking at him with suspicion. Percy has yet to figure out why, beyond a general sense of distrust.)

"Vex'ahlia," he says, midway through a tankard of what would be mediocre ale on any other day. He's ravenous, though, and that makes everything he eats or drinks the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. He's also still filthy, unfortunately, in clothing so worn and dirty that he'd burn them if he had any replacements, but he'll find an opportunity to bathe after this meal. (And just think, after that, he might be able to turn up a razor and shave the scruff off his jaw. Pure bliss.) "I want to thank you - for taking a chance on me."

It's hard not to sound utterly earnest about it; there's no room for cynicism when he's finally eating something besides bread and water. He's done nothing to prove himself just yet, but he intends to fix that as soon as possible.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

Vex considers their their recent recruit seems to be fitting in rather well rather quickly, insofar as that he's joined them in drinking away what little money they were able to talk out of their employer into paying them.

As much as she resents seeing every single silver coin go, she'd enjoy the evening even less sober.

His sincerity inspires a smile.

"You know, you're not in that cell anymore. You don't have much more to gain through flattery." She leans on the table, resting her chin on her hand as she considers him. He's... scruffy. But most people are after a stint in a cell. "Or do you?"

[pathography]

Who is he to demand they save their coin for a rainy day? He didn't earn it, aside from a few well-placed comments to their employer - he'd provided a full account of the cultist's final days, with the clipped attitude of a wealthy, inconvenienced man. If he hadn't come straight from the prison itself (and looked like it, moreover), it might have worked, too. Right now, he's got a bowl of soup and a pint of beer and a beautiful

"I -" he starts, for a moment taking it as a genuine question. In the middle of the first syllable, he realizes she's flirting with him, or might be, and chokes on whatever was going to come out of his mouth next. His cheeks going pink under the stubble, he reaches for his tankard as an excuse to buy himself an extra second or two to recovery his tattered dignity.

Here, too, truth might be his best defense, not to mention his only weapon. "Genuinely, I have no idea whatsoever just what I might be able to gain through flattery right about now."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

Is Vex flirting with him?

Well... yes. Not in an especially intentional way. There's not a particular purpose behind her words, no goal in mind, at least, at first. But she's feeling a bit tipsy and a bit pleased with herself, and she reacts like a cat being presented a string: playfully.

And like a cat with string, when he twitches and squirms, it sparks a predatory light in her hazel eyes.

She swipes again.

"You should consider that, de Rolo," she says, rolling his family name over her tongue, still gaining familiarity with it. "It would be a shame to waste a golden opportunity. Surely you can think of something you want?"

[pathography]

It's strangely buoying, hearing his surname in use. For the last few years, he's stuck to pseudonyms, aware simultaneously that a handful of fisherman likely couldn't do him much harm but would likely benefit if they tried and succeeded. The temptation to hand him over to the charlatans who usurped his family's place in Whitestone might prove too much to withstand, if it came down to that. And so he'd gone by other names, learning to answer to Charlie or Quincy or Rowland, as the occasion demanded.

And none of those assumed names had sounded half so nice as de Rolo does right now, coming from the lips of the first woman to pay him any mind in...well, quite a while.

He's rather tipsy as well, the worst possible amount of inebriation: capable of recognizing he's likely to make a fool of himself, but not so capable that he can put a stop to it. Every little thing he feels rises to his face - right now, an expression like surprise, curiosity, and fear were chopped up and stirred together. "I, ah - I want all kinds of things. Most of them aren't within your power to give, unfortunately."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"Let's focus on the things within my power for now," Vex says, undeterred. If anything, her eyes narrow slightly with amusing.

Tipsy is, indeed, among the most dangerous levels of intoxication, because it's just enough to make this seem like an excellent idea right now.

"For example, it may be within my means to offer you a bath," she says, echoing his earlier thoughts. Not that it's difficult to guess them. After days in a cell and considering his current condition—well. If Vex did intend to pursue her flirtation beyond mere flirtation, then a bath would have to be the first thing on the agenda anyway. "After we finish dinner, of course. I imagine Grog and my brother intend to keep drinking and maybe start gambling, and Scanlan will either try to make a few extra silvers by playing a few tunes or he'll lose whatever he has left spending it on whores...

"And that leaves the two of us at loose ends. Unless you're the type to get involved in that sort of thing?"

[pathography]

"Not really," he answers dryly. "I have nothing to gamble with besides the shirt on my back, and if I lose that, I'll be in real trouble.

The subject of whores, he'd rather not address, if only to keep from tripping over his tongue in the process.

Percy's never been a good flirt - he thinks for a painful moment of Julius, whose self-assurance would be all too welcome right now - but he has just enough sense to realize he could benefit from making the attempt. (Or he might fall flat on his face, but in that case, he can slip away into the night and go back to cleaning fish for his living.) And that's why, after draining his tankard, he adds, "I might take you up on the bath, though."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

Vex, as it happens, would consider herself a very competent flirt. Whether or not that's a good thing is a point she has no intention of opening for debate, even with herself, which might be why she pushes away the question of if this is a good idea as she sidles a little closer to Percy.

Close enough that when she crosses her legs, she can hook her heel around one of Percy's ankles.

"Might you?" She glances over her shoulder, making sure Vax is otherwise occupied before she leans in closer. "You don't sound entirely sure."

[pathography]

He flushes scarlet, right up to the roots of his hair, eyes going wide despite his best attempt to play this conversation cool. It's not, he knows, like she's said or done anything particularly shocking; this sort of thing happens to people every day. But it doesn't happen to him, and the sudden pressure of her foot against his is staggering.

She's a force to be reckoned with, this Vex'ahlia. Her mouth is so near, her eyes so...devious? Devious, he thinks.

"I - uh -" Sputtering out random syllables in hopes that one might coalesce into a real sentence isn't going to save him, he knows. Taking a breath, he tries again. "Fine. Yes, I'll take you up on it."

(A moment later, the little glance over her shoulder registers in his mind - but his first interpretation is she doesn't mean any of this, and she's making sure no one mistakes her for doing so. Too late, de Rolo, you've cast your die, and now you'll have to see what ridicule might befall you.)

[whatsinfrontofyou]

Her boot against his isn't the most sensual experience in the world, but Vex does think it communicates something. She raises, then points her toe, a very deliberate contact.

Her gaze is equally deliberate and unblinking as she holds Percy's, then flicks toward the door and the street outside before coming back. One brow cocks in a question.

"Meet me outside? I'll settle our tab and join you."

[pathography]

"Sure." She's an excellent communicator, as it happens, and Percy nods his head sharply, eyes bright beneath his furrowed brow. He hasn't quite decided whether to be nervous or excited or suspicious and has instead opted for all three.

He probably looks like a lunatic, he thinks as he downs the last few bites of meat and broth, then abandons his bowl to stalk over to the door. He's not actually that nervous now that he's agreed to the idea; instead, he's simply self-conscious, hoping against all hope that no one notices him slip outside.

By the time Vex joins him, he's leaning against the wall of the tavern, trying to get the grime out from under his fingernails. He straightens up at the sight of her and tries to get his voice under his own control. "Hello again."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"Hello, de Rolo," Vex says with a smile, her chin lifted and eyes sharp. Any air of elegance she might have projected is undermined by the high, pink flush of alcohol in her cheeks and the fact her braid has lost more strands, framing her face in irregular wisps. "Or should I call you Percival?"

Considering her intentions for the evening, it seems natural.

"It does seem like we're going to be on friendly terms for a while."

[pathography]

"Percy, actually," he says, and there's that little tinge coming back into his cheeks. "My friends call me Percy."

It sounds ludicrous as soon as he says it - friends, as though he's had any of those in years. It's hard to remember the last time he's heard anyone call him Percy, for that matter, and right now, he doesn't want to try.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he adds a too-bright, "So. Where to," and gives himself a mental kick in the pants. Get it together, for fuck's sake.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

A little smile curls her lips when he volunteers the nickname. Percy is a much easier name to say in bed, at least.

"There's a bathhouse this way." She tips her head up the street, both indication and invitation as she starts walking that direction at a leisurely pace. "I considered asking the innkeeper if they could roll a tub up to one of the rooms, but this seemed to offer a tad bit more privacy."

She's still smiling when she takes her eyes over him.

"And a better location to get you thoroughly clean."

[pathography]

"Ah." Percy falls into step with her, trying not to feel her eyes crawling over him too obviously. At the moment, he can't imagine he's an especially tantalizing option - but she seems to see a fixer-upper when she looks at him, if her teasing's to be believed.

And at the moment, he supposes he has no reason not to believe her. They're on their way to a bathhouse whose facilities will have to be paid for by her own coin; he doesn't get the sense Vex'ahlia wastes money easily. (Spending it on drink clearly doesn't count as a waste to her. "I'm intrigued. I can't remember the last time I was thoroughly clean."

If he talks about their destination with a kind of detached irony, like all of this is happening to someone else, he can probably make it through without going red again.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"All the more reason you should be now."

It will make what she has planned for after a good deal more pleasant. Among other things. Vex's flirtations are easy, practiced. A persona that she wears as easily as an old coat.

"And an indication my instinct that you might need a second pair of hands to make sure it's done properly is right."

One hand goes to his chin, the back of her fingers stroking his whiskers.

"I'd offer to give you a shave, but you might want me a bit more sober for that."

[pathography]

He shivers at her touch, wondering just when his jaw became so sensitive. Perhaps it's the aforementioned whiskers making the brush of her hand feel so much more intense - or else he's just that desperate for someone's attention turned his way. (Which doesn't really feel like him, but it's been a long time since he could claim another person's attention this absolutely. Maybe he's a reprobate now.)

"I don't think either of us can be trusted with a razor right now - and I lack any kind of magical prowess." Still more of that quiet, dry humor, hoping against hope he can come through this conversation looking reasonably self-assured. "So I'm afraid you're stuck with the stubble."

If she's intending for the bath to be a mere appetizer of things to come, at least. Belatedly, he realizes all of this means she's going to see him naked; only the miracle of alcohol keeps his heart from thudding wildly at the idea, instead offering the inane thought, The stubble will seem like nothing compared to the scars.

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"It's too bad," Vex comments breezily, a tone that would seem to indicate it isn't actually all that bad. "I bet you clean up nicely—like taking the tarnish off a silver coin."

It's a very specific compliment, but Vex feels that it's fitting. Even down on his luck, Percy has the air of money, and with his white hair, his ice green eyes and fair skin, he does make a good silver piece. The fact he's still so young only highlights the fact.

"But I suspect we'll both be grateful to get the smell of the prison off."

[pathography]

"I suspect you're right," he says, because he's got no idea what to say in response to the compliment. It doesn't rise to the level of a blush from him, but he's still set slightly off-kilter by the idea of someone seeing that much to speak well of in his looks. Particularly not after a rough stay in a barred cell.

Falling silent, he walks with her to the bathhouse, and inside, it's immediately warmer and more humid. Percy stands beside Vex and lets her pay their entry, watching with fascination as she manages to sweet-talk her way into a discount. As they walk down a short corridor to the changing rooms, he says in a low tone, "Very persuasive."

[whatsinfrontofyou]

For her part, Vex has no problem taking over as the face of their little breakout party. She has no problem doing the talking for her people in general—prefers it, even. As much as they would say there's no leader in their little group, when there's a need for plans or for someone to speak on their behalf, it was usually Vex.

Nice to have that appreciated for a change.

"Lucky for you to have me around to negotiate for you," she says, mildly enough for it not to sound insulting, but still full of a certain bravado. The ale isn't hurting there.

On impulse, she reaches for his lapel, tugging playfully.

"I should have seen if I could get them to include washing this."

[pathography]

"Consider me grateful." In the short time he's known her, Vex has come off as the de facto head of this little group. She controls the coin, does the negotiating, and isn't shy about sharing her opinion on what they should be doing with their time. It holds here as well

When she comments on his clothing, he groans - not in a sexy way, without any blushing. "I'd ask them to burn it, if I had anything to replace it with. I'm not sure any of my clothing is salvageable."

And then there's a room with inset shelves for storing clothing and weapons whilst bathing. Percy turns away from Vex, hoping to give her a bit of privacy, and folds each item he takes off before setting it away. He's dawdling, he knows, taking too much time to pull off his boots so he doesn't have to unbutton his shirt, but the conversation around his torso is never a pleasant one - and things have been strangely pleasant so far. He'd love for them to stay that way.

Eventually, he ends up stripped down to the skin, wrapping a towel around his waist for modesty, and decides the best option is likely to pretend there's nothing notable about his appearance. Vex might ask, but she'll have to be the one to bring up the ugly terrain of scarred flesh, every cut on his body too straight and clean to be naturally acquired. Affecting a bright voice, he turns back to her and starts walking toward the door into the bathing area. "Shall we?"

[whatsinfrontofyou]

He'll find that Vex isn't especially shy, not about her own body, nor about looking at someone else's. Whether or not Percy looks, she doesn't try to hide. Her clothes come off and are tucked away, revealing long, tan limbs and toned curves. She watches him out of the corner of her eye to see if he notices.

She also looks out of the corner of her eye to see him, filthy as he is, and pauses when she starts counting the scars. She's not open in studying them, but she does take in the sight, gaze flicking up to Percy's profile while she reconsiders what she knows about the man.

She follows his lead, wrapping a towel around her body though it barely makes it as far as her legs.

"Of course, darling," she says, her voice natural. If the scars bother her, she doesn't show a sign of it. "One moment."

The last thing she does is take down her hair, tucking the feather that adorned her braid safely away among her clothes before unraveling her braid across her shoulder.

"There. Now... follow me."

[pathography]

He can feel her eyes on him, he thinks - but he has the feeling he'd have that same crawling sensation even with her back to him. It'll pass, he knows. Eventually, she'll draw whatever conclusions she chooses, and that'll be that. If he sticks around for a while, he'll have to go through the whole thing over again with the others, but with Vex, it'll be over.

Hopefully.

"Of course," he says crisply. The desire for modesty's never quite abandoned him, at least not in mixed company, but his attention can't help but stray toward Vex as they continue onward. Percy's gaze cuts over and back again; he takes in the slim, athletic shape of her, realizes he's doing it, and makes himself look forward. Lather, rinse, repeat. Having abandoned his glasses with his clothing, he's likely squinting, too, and God, why don't you be more obvious about it? Clearing his throat, he asks, "Have you, er, been here before?"

[whatsinfrontofyou]

"The bathhouse?" She asks as clarification, her tone lightly ironic. It's not exactly an attraction, though she supposes it's practical enough to justify coming back again. "Or the town?"

Vex drops back to walk beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own, her skin already lightly damp from the ambient heat.

"Relax, darling. I'm not going to bite." Probably. Unless he wants her too.

After a beat, she asks, "How bad are your eyes without the glasses?"

[pathography]

Percy doesn't answer her first questions, a vague sense of embarrassment coming over him. It's novel, actually, trying and failing to talk to a woman - the stakes are so low, and yet he'd rather face a fight. And Vex in particular seems to have mastered the art of leaving people tongue-tied.

(Him, at least. Every time he remembers he's here beside her - especially after her naked shoulder nudges against his - it's like he swallowed a beehive. With his clothes on, refusing to let himself think too deeply on anything, he meets the bare minimum of small talk. Now there's no way to forget himself, no armor between him and the rest of the world.)

Her second question, he can manage, at least. With something besides a towel on, he could probably deliver the answer with the tenor of a lecturing professor. Right now, his voice comes out softer, guarded but genuine. "The world's blurrier. Anything near to hand, I can see all right - but the further away something is, the less detail I have."