"Did he... did he jus' throw a nod at me?" Clif asked himself silently, though his lips moved, stupidly mouthing the sentence.
It was a conundrum. Assassins didn't nod at their victims. Or did they? Clif's inexperience with actual out-of-ship killing was rather limited, and he tried to consider the implications. He finally decided to take the cruiser by the horns.
He nodded back to the man following this long pause. It was all he could accomplish until he was perfectly sure. "Too bad I left my shiv in my... where did I leave my shiv?" He asked himself, again mouthing the words to his internal dialogue.
Margaret went back to the pub. As usual she looked for new persons here, with hope in eyes and child's smile. 'Finally. Those two are new here'
She took her place near window and started watching them. 'Why they are looking so'¦ odd? Maybe they aren't Rogues? And they came here to find some food?'
Margaret looked on Clif who was in other room. It seems he thought same about them. Then she found something on man's shirt.
Harold Kane
Taskmaster
Vagrant Raiders
'And what does that supposed to mean? Maybe I need to call them?'
But she prefered to wait.
Lavinia swallowed. Now theres two people watching us...I don't like this place...
She looked down at her right glove, seemingly damaged, the armor was crumpled and sparks were visible within the tears in the bluish metal, which beared a similarity to Lane Hacker fighters in both its color and texture.
After a moment she reached to the wrist, twisting one of the three steel bands that made up the seal on the glove. There was a small click, and she removed the damaged glove, setting it aside before removing the other. Her hands didn't have specific color, they seemed black or maybe a dark blue, bearing a sheen similar to hair or fur.
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
Kane felt Lavinia's hands gently, noting mentally that they had always previously been covered with her armoured gloves. He paid the fact no mind, and instead looked into her eyes silently, smiling ever so slightly. He could almost feel the Rogues in the corner looking at them, but he didn't really care at all.
Lavinia looked up at Kane, her head still covered by an armored helmet, and moved her hand to hold his. She blinked slowly at him, visible through the glow in the eyes of the helmet, and went back to examining the bar.
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
Margaret looked at window, sometimes on this pair or Clif. She thought about this strange woman who arrived with 'Harold Kane'. 'Why she is in helmet? There is enough oxygen for at least four generations of Rogues. It isn't cold here, it's better to say, this room was always warm. Thanks to the smokin' Rogues'
She asked a wine and continued looking at window. 'What she is hiding? And why? And who must be first to ask them: I or Clif?'
Clif hadn't noticed any of the exchange after the nods of acknowledgment. He was busy finishing off the wine remaining at his table. If he was actually going to greet the two, he needed some spirits in his belly.
Polishing off the last, he stood and moved towards the couple. His steps were rigid and felt forced, but he continued.
"Uh... 'scuse me, I'm Cliffor- Clif! Clif Thurston." He extended his hand to the man and waited.
Kane looked up. The man--Clif-- was standing over him now. Kane took Clif's hand and shook it.
"Harold Kane, Taskmaster of the Vagrant Raiders," he said. "Pleased to meet you." He released his hand and pointed towards Lavinia. "And this is Lavinia Concordia, a... 'friend' of mine." He smiled.
Lavinia swallowed, slightly uncomfortable around this new person. She shifted away from him, towards the window, and looked away, forgetting she was no longer wearing her gloves. On closer inspection, her hands appeared to be covered with a dark-blue fur, which was only displaced by her nails, a more grey tone of blue and more claw-like than human fingernails.
A million dollars isn't cool. You know what is cool? A basilisk.
Bottle was over. Anyone could say that after one bottle of wine human is going to be drunk. Not really. One bottle of wine isn't enough to be drunk for this young woman. She could think clearly, speak correctly and control her actions.
She saw how Clif slowly arrived to those two. 'Good job. I'd better don't join. But I need to hide somehow and watch. But how'¦'
The chat already started. 'Oh, right. I found the way'
She hit the table, jumped and shouted something. After that, she slowly fell down back to chair and sang:
Fifteen man on da dead man's chest
Yohoho, and da bottle of rum'¦
All who were in pub looked at her. - Poor wom'n. Seems this girl drank so much.
Her face was on cold table. She opened one eye and looked at Clif. 'Now it's better. I can see anything happening here'
![[Image: cliffthurston.png]](http://img526.imageshack.us/img526/6751/cliffthurston.png)
