Looking For Work [OPEN]

[mylex]

Brown eyes peered around the corner of the alleyway with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Compared to the light-hued colors of the Barang, the white people, her dark eyes and even darker hair brought too much attention. She felt awkwardly aware of how scruffy she appeared in contrast to these clean, well-kept locals of Europe: battered, black boots that gave way to a long skirt torn in some places and a loose tunic that was once white but was more akin to a dark, creamy color now. Her uneven bangs and loose tumble of hair accentuating a heart-shaped face and slender frame did not exactly help. It was impossible to deny how much she stood out on this continent.

Veata took a deep breath before forcing herself out of the alley and taking up a quickened pace down the streets. Over the years the young Oriental had learnt that to walk with the appearance of a purpose meant less trouble. People left her alone when it looked like she knew what she was doing though the truth was anything but. It didn’t matter how unusual she appeared to them; they just assumed she was some rich man’s servant running errands which worked just fine for her. The less she was bothered the better.

Only when the familiar sounds and settings that indicated a rowdy, busy bar registered did the Khmer slow her pace. Unusual and stupid as it was, part of her felt a smugness that something so dirty existed in the clean world of Europeans just as well as it did in her supposedly uncivilized homeland. It was no secret that many Westerners looked down upon her simply because of her Asian heritage and the color of her skin. In reality though this seedy bar was proof that the Barang had their fair share of flaws as well.

In the entryway Veata took a moment to scope out the area of the bar’s main room. Mentally she noted places of exist in case a quick withdrawal was needed more out of habit than actual concern. Veata had learnt the hard way that it was always best to carry a pistol by her side at all times. Pirate or not, she was still a young female and there were plenty of people out there stronger than her. In a physical fight it would be easy enough to overpower her but the possession of a pistol tended to turn the playing field into something advantageous for her own good.

“Excuse me.” Accompanying her words, Veata gave a sweet smile as she approached the bar counter. A few men had taken roost there but for the most part the bar’s patrons had spread out among the table there. Safer to avoid the table groups; they usually came as companions and snapped at anyone who tried to step in other than those serving their drinks. No, loners were usually easier to work with and glad for the company in their drunken stupors. They were usually easier to slip away from too. It was hard to run away when surrounded on all sides by inebriated idiots.

Gingerly she slipped onto the stool, shoulders far more relaxed in here than out there. She wasn’t nearly so good working in those clean streets but the slums were her area of expertise. Besides, none of them out there could offer up the type of work Veata was out for. Bars, on the other hand, were teeming with news of ships and crews looking to hire. The Navy also tended to avoid a place like this which meant no danger to her status as a pirate. Pirates worked with pirates, end of story. “Could you possibly direct me to the docks?”

((This is sort of for Rome because NK told me to go get kidnapped by his crew but I dunno. ;; ))

[cartago]

{ooc; heyy, Rome said it was ok to post a reply for you so both Veata and Hiram can be recruited. I hope that's alright!}

For reasons unknown but never quite explored, Europe was not exactly his resting place of preference, much less a bar in eastern Europe, of all places. If anything, he preferred the west; closer to Gibraltar and the big, wide Ocean, closer to the warmth and sun of the Latin coasts and his own homeland across the Mediterranean sea, Tunisia. Truth be told it had been quite a long time since he'd ventured back to his homeland for more than a day or two and for more than strictly business; it was a somewhat disheartening notion for him, but two things weighed in his favour: his love and compromise for the sea and the fact that, if given enough time, he would eventually wander back to the ruins of an old, old city which has long since collapsed under the iron fist of an equally astounding yet less endearing city to this man's eyes.
There was really nothing to it but perhaps some sort of mainly uncalled for bias, but it's not like it mattered much, either. A city was a city and this man didn't stay in one of those for too long before hopping back onto a ship or another - regretting the misfortune of a sea-storm which put him at disadvantage to a merciless enemy years before, but far too smart to let that be the end of him.
No, perhaps he was conforming to this lifestyle; it suited a man like Hiram quite perfectly. The pirates.. They went after the loot, did they not? And he was a good strategist; his ability to trace routes had not vanished with a sea-storm, nor had his skills as a merchant which he had cleverly applied to a new life.

Really, he would think over a glass of wine, this was all a mid-life crisis.

It was a rather amusing thought - amusing enough that he would laugh, although there was no one in proximity and even if there was he would simply be mistaken by another drunken stupor, sitting by himself at the counter. One glass in his right hand, his left hand carefully manoeuvring a small knife, blade scraping against the countertop and pointedly avoiding the two small maps he had been looking over, certainly another series of routes and relevant locations he intended to visit at some point.
Hiram laughed once more, dark strands of hair falling over his face. He looked far too presentable for someone who had been out at sea, but the relatively clean, practical yet elegant clothes were all recent acquisitions. Recent as in a couple of hours from the time he had abandoned the ship he had travelled in and had found a room for the night. The market was... Acceptable; bartering for valuable objects was surprisingly difficult, but that was where his knife had come from.

And now, there he was. All alone in a bar, watching groups of men and women, wondering where he would end up next.

Excuse me.

Hiram was not quite sure why, but the voice snapped him out of his reverie; it was not directed at him, at he would notice, but it was more the tone that piqued his curiosity. Not too far from him stood a young lady (and she couldn't possibly be in her twenties, he told himself through another sip of wine; she seemed far too young, although in retrospect he was not far from his forties and many people he knew were much younger). What was she doing in such a place? Surely her attire was not the best to prove him right, but something in her appearance made him frown and wonder why such a pretty young girl would be involved with scurvy sailors like many of those present in the room. In the end, he reminded himself not to judge her; she wasn't the first woman he'd seen out at sea and certainly not the last.
But really, all of these were mere conjectures stemmed from perhaps a bit too much wine; his vision wasn't cloudy at the corners, nor was the room moving, but he'd been here for a while now.

Her next question snapped him out of another reverie.

Could you possibly direct me to the docks?

Ah, now, conjectures were they?

"The docks, you say?" This time he could not help but to chime in, even though nothing in the conversation had been directed at him; he would not discredit this young lady if she mistook him for any random drunkard babbling on and on about some nonsense, though he liked to think that his current appearance and accent could not be useful to mistake him as such. "The docks aren't quite the safest place for a young lady, if you allow me to say as much. I could kindly direct you there however," he paused, nodding once in an almost bow, his little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He set his glass down next to the knife this time, one hand reaching over to grip at his maps. "if you want, that is. No pressure."

[mylex]

Veata shifted her attention from the general group to the single individual whose sweetly accented voice beckoned her to him. Reflexively she held onto her sweet smile but her eyes were too sharp to suggest that she was at ease as she took quick stock of the male. Dark hair swept back and over his shoulder with a glass of wine of all drinks laid out in front of him, his posture seemed to suggest that he was slightly uncomfortable but not overly so. Eyes nearly as dark as her own appeared to be a bit curious himself but the female quickly discarded the nation that he was drunk from her mind: the eyes were too bright and alert. It didn’t fit with the glazed eyes of the other patrons but not very much about this stranger seemed to fit anything here. Clothes were too clean and kept, they looked too nice for this scene, and his skin wasn’t as…light. Even his broad shoulders weren’t as broad and, though taller and older than her from what she could gleam, he didn’t match anybody else here.

This could mean either something very good or something very bad for her. Good in the idea that what set him apart from other should make him more relatable and willing to help her due to the fact that neither of them truly belonged here. Bad in the suggestion that his isolation from the locals might make him dangerous. No one cared about what one foreigner did to another. As far as locals were usually concerned, as long as it didn’t directly interfere with their lives then what other did didn’t amount to much.

Well nothing ventured, nothing gained.

With a few skittish footsteps she came closer to him like a newborn foal to human hand, standing next to him rather than sitting. Uncertainly Veata’s lips turned up into another smile for the male in an attempt to come off as harmless. She found it falling though as he remarked on the dangers of the docks. The Khmer was quite aware of how dangerous anything in this world was for a “young lady”. She didn’t exactly need anybody to remind her of the life she plunged herself into each day and, quite frankly, she could take care of herself far better than most men so with a bit of a sulking, cold tone she remarked, “It’s alright. I’ll be going only for a short visit. I can take care of myself there for that long.”

The female bit down her temper and took a deep breath. It would be stupid to aggravate the one individual who had offered help to her. In an attempt to offset her snippy words she gave a bit of an awkward curtsy with her head of raven black locks bowed. “Thank you for your help, Sir.” Straightening she plastered on another smile. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is…Ata.”