Scene #5192: Manhunt

Owner	Pose
Captain Flint	The tavern in Nassau is the spot to be for those interested in work. Yesterday, a request for assistance from the Concord was made by 'JF,' who instructed prospects to inquire in the tavern. Yet, instead of being directed to a table, or even upstairs, anyone who inquires is actually directed to the beach, where the crew of the Walrus is currently unloading its most recent haul. Specifically, they are directed to 'JF' himself--James Flint. Captain Flint stands on the shore of New Providence Island, out in the open--where it's harder for spies from other ships to hide. Beside him, the young boatswain Billy Bones stands with Hal Gates, the both of them curiously taking the measure of any approaching elites. Gulls cry in the distance, hovering and circling in the hopes of finding scraps of food left behind by the pirates scattered across the beach. The Walrus' accountant rattles off inventory as the crew continues to arrive onshore. Every one of them seems eager to enter Nassau and blow their money on its offerings--save for the captain and his senior crew members. Once all of the hired help arrives, Flint apprises them of the situation. "For those of you yet to make my acquaintance in person, my name is Flint." He gestures to the blond-haired young man. "This is my boatswain, Billy Bones--" Flint then gestures to the older, bald man with the mustache. "And my Quartermaster, Hal Gates." Billy and Gates exchange quiet greetings with the gathered Elites. "Here is the situation." Flint points with a finger to the town of Nassau. "The cook, a man by the name of John Silver, has something of ours. He is in hiding somewhere on this island, likely with intent to sell it." Flint pauses, his eyes narrowing. As his brows furrow, one can see a spot above his eye that looks freshly stitched closed. "I will not allow that." "Silver is clever," he continues, turning around to peer furtively at Nassau. "So I'll settle for finding him and leveraging the location out of him." At that, Billy shrinks away from Flint, swallowing nervously. The apprehension isn't lost on the captain, who looks over his shoulder at the boatswain with an appraising eye. "If you can find what we're looking for--a page, torn from a log--not only will I pay you extra, I'll offer you a place in a very, very lucrative endeavor." He turns his attention back to the city, nodding to Gates. The burly quartermaster unfolds a map of New Providence and shows it to the hired help as he approaches, onlookers may notice the tattoo of the Eye of Providence on the back of his bald head. Pointing to a spot on the map with a meaty finger, he explains the plan. "Our man's of a slight build, black, shoulder length hair, tan complexion, about yea high." Gates raises a hand to demonstrate. "He's going to be one of two places--either he's in the city looking for a buyer, or he's already found one and he's hiding out in the inland. So, we're going to work in teams. Billy and me are gonna canvas the city, along with anyone who wants to come. Flint, and whoever goes with him, is going to search the more popular hiding spots in the inland and work his way down." Looking up from the map, Gates checks for understanding with everyone. "We need Silver in one piece. Other than that, do what you need to get him back here. Any questions?"
Haguro	A sortie out near regular, normal, standard, not non-Euclidean water is something of a relief for Haguro after her last few expeditions. She's even arrived early to just stand around the docks, lingering near the water to soak it all in before heading for JF's meeting point. She might look a little out of place in the tavern itself compared to the Walrus' crew and Flint himself, but the ship girl does make her purpose for being here obvious with a formal salute. "Haguro. A pleasure to meet you, sirs." She'll leave the part about being a boat for later. "This cook... Is he part of your crew, or someone unrelated?" Haguro peers at the map closely as it's revealed, seeking out whatever might look like auction halls or other taverns in the area. Who knows? He could be hiding in one of those other spots to look for more buyers. "Silver, the log... How will we know if we have the right page?" She pauses. "... Were there any other missing pages?"
Priscilla	By looking her, someone might question why Priscilla has come along to a rowdy port town to speak to a sailor of lucrative wealth. She certainly doesn't look bad off. Even stripped down, Anor Londo's 'royal casual' involves white silk, fine lacing, and embroidery woven in with actual gold. Even if it's only a single layer, she doesn't look to be the type to be chasing after treasure. She's also a good six inches taller than most anyone, goes through town barefoot, and has that white tail and little ivory horns, so it's not like she wasn't going to stand out anyways. Mostly, Priscilla finds it worth checking out when someone actually mails a direct, handwritten letter that makes it all the way to her metaphorical desk. For being almost the right time period though, she's never actually been near the ocean, and has seen precious little related to sailing, and so the ships themselves, the busy routine surrounding them, the supplies they take on and load off, and even the manner of the sailors' dress, is mildly fascinating to her, preventing any sort of professionally disinterested air. "Well met, Sir Flint. Billy . . . Bones. And Sir Gates." She outright sounds like she came down here from a castle alright, though addressing sailors by 'sir' sounds intentional rather than naive. "I imagine that, whatever this log book is meant for, there art a great many others who wouldst be interested in its acquisition, were they to knoweth its nature, yes? I cannot guess any other reason for this roundabout introduction. I assumeth, then, that posing one of us to be a buyer, or directly asking for its whereabouts, wouldst draw undesirable attention." A brief, curious stare goes to the back of Hal's head, before sliding to the map so she can memorize it. "I believeth I shalt accompany Sir Flint. Mine preference is for less . . . vivacious places than this."
Captain Flint	Upon hearing Haguro's question, Flint turns to face her. He takes a moment to peer at her with his intense, seafoam gaze, his brow furrowed as he attempts to make eye contact. "The pleasure is mine," he says after a moment's scrutiny. "Mr. Silver was recently hired on as our cook--we actually recruited him from the same place from which we took this." Flint raises a rather unassuming looking logbook. "Now, it's clearly evident that he's our thief. And without the page, the rest of this book is useless." The book is then put into his coat for safekeeping. Upon hearing Priscilla's postulation about the book's value, Flint nods, a grave and determined expression settling upon his face. "Precisely," he says. "This log has the power to make history both here and in the Multiverse. For that reason," he says, turning briefly to Haguro to answer another question of hers, "I must ask that if you believe you've found the page, bring it to me and I'll compare it with the logbook. I cannot leave this to chance." He pauses, looking past both Elites at the sea beyond them. "Not when I am so close." With a sigh, he returns his attention to Priscilla. "Very well," he says. Looking between Haguro, Gates, and Billy, he rather abruptly turns and begins heading inland. "Nassau's history is full of raids from a number of foreign powers. It's proven difficult to control no matter the owner--in large part due to the size of the town relative to the island. There are many places men of fortune such as myself make use of when hoping to conduct business away from prying eyes." After all, there are some deals too sensitive even for a seemingly lawless place like Nassau. Gates picks up his map. "Miss Haguro, was it? Will you be coming with me and Billy, or Flint?"
The Kid	Of course Kid was always here, you kidding? He's just not one for talking. Better to leave that to the others where he can. He's just looking out on the sea, a look on his face that might suggest that he's contemplating things, but it's more than likely that he's just holding his tongue for now. When the map is produced, he pours over it. Looking to Billy and Hal, he nods to them. He'll tag along for the tracking, it seems!
Haguro	Haguro tenses visibly at Flint's stare, shaking just a bit while trying not to move too much and looking completely unnatural while doign it. She doesn't relax until he speaks, and then she furrows her brow once the significance of the page is revealed. "That important? I see..." A cautious glance is tossed towards Priscilla and the Kid, several questions swirling about in the heavy cruiser's head even as Flint continues speaking. Eventually, though, she straightens up again after she's addressed once more, and the boat ghost glances towards her Concord allies once. "I'll go with Billy and Hal, then. We'll look out of place-" She gestures at herself and the Kid. "-so he might approach us if we... 'Flash' some money around?"
Priscilla	"Men of fortune?" Priscilla repeats back, though it's clear from her tone of voice that she doesn't expect a forthcoming answer, and probably has the general idea. Her eyes passingly catch the log book, but without any markings or make of interest, there is little reason to linger. The contents are clearly what is of interest, and there's not even a point in asking to see them now, if the missing page renders them useless. "Then he was, perhaps, keenly aware of its value before thee." A question strikes Priscilla. "How many amongst thine crew art literate, by curiosity?" It isn't terribly unlikely for rough and common folk not to be, in many places. If that's the case here, a cook seems an unlikely one to read. Regardless, Priscilla follows Flint as she indicated before, inwardly glad to avoid the loud and rambunctious township. Scoping out rough terrain and obscure locations is more of her thing.
Captain Flint	Once given leave to do so, Billy and Hal leave with Haguro and the kid. Billy looks eagerly to Hal for guidance, a spark in his eyes. "Where are we going first?" he asks. He's a little past the point where he observes everything older pirates do with wide eyed wonder--but it's still evident that he considers Gates a role model. Gates smiles sagely. "Miss Haguro's got the right idea, I think. We're going to have a drink," he says matter-of-factly. "You're kidding," comes Billy's incredulous reply. Gates chuckles, then puts one of his hands on Billy's shoulder. "Easy, lad," he says with no small amount of amusement at the flustered bo'sun. "Every man we have that ain't on unloading duty's gonna be in the brothel or the tavern, running his mouth. All we have to do to find a lead is stick close to them and wait for somebody to bite." Billy seems placated, but the Quartermaster knows it's not just Billy he has to convince. Smiling, he turns around and gives Haguro and the Kid an inquisitive smile, brows raised. "Now, Silver knows the look of me and you, but these two might be our buyers. Meanwhile, you and me can watch and... what was it called... radio in anything interesting we see. How about it?" He asks Haguro and the Kid. "Think you two can manage?" Meanwhile, Flint and Priscilla have made it to the beginning of the tree line, with the Captain in front. There are rough paths worn into the undergrowth from regular travel, but it's a far cry from the paved roads of Anor Londo. "I prefer the term to what the allegedly civilized world would use in its place," says Flint. Not exactly a forthcoming answer, but perhaps one that offers insight all the same. In other words, this is very likely a pirate den, and Flint is very likely a pirate. At Priscilla's next question, Flint ponders. Indeed, it wasn't common for sailors to be literate past the bare minimum. "Not many," he admits. "Gates, myself, Doctor Howell. Perhaps of the entire crew, no more than ten can read without tiring themselves out. Silver is one of them," he says. "He broke into my cabin to compare the page with the rest of the book--which is how he knows its value. Even finding the ship on which the logbook was held took... great time, effort, and expense. I won't allow that to be wasted." Flint stops in a clearing, with seemingly forgotten brush growing wildly out of control. Unwilling to further address his ambition for the time being, he begins moving some of the fauna around in search of something. "There's a hatch somewhere here. Would you help me look for it?"
The Kid	Kid perks at the mention of a drink. "I'm okay with that." More than okay honestly. But apparently, this plan calls for a degree of subterfuge, pretending to be someone they're not. And honestly? Kid was kind of tuning out the earlier discussion, so he's not the best for that... "I'll be your muscle. It would look strange for a buyer to not have backup in case things go sour," he finally says to Haguro. Leaving the talking to her, he can just have a drink and look intimidating. Those are things he's good at.
Haguro	Haguro puffs up just a bit at that bit of praise from Gates, but she's careful not to let it show too much. There's a job to do, after all! Of course, it's her turn to get flustered when Gates points out that they might not only be visiting taverns, but brothels as well. Hopefully, more of the former than the latter. The Kid's counting on her, too, and she takes a deep breathe before mustering the most determined look she can. "I... I'll do my best as a buyer, the! It should be easier once we know where he is. Even if we can't arrange a sale, maybe..." She murmurs and furrows her brow again, then bows her head rather suddenly. "Ah... I'm sorry! I shouldn't get too ahead of myself. B-but yes, remain in radio contact. Having someone keepng an eye on things outside might be helpful in case he passes by, too."
Priscilla	At that point, Priscilla just says what she's thinking. "A captain, a quartermaster, and a doctor art likely cases to hath need of letters and pen, but a cook seems an unlikely occupation, either to learn, or to be relegated to a kitchen with such a rare talent." Galley, Priscilla. It's called a galley. "Under what circumstances didst thou taketh the young man on?" Rough paths or not, shoes are for whimps. Coming to the gnarled expanse of old overgrowth, however, Priscilla has just the thing. Reaching to her opposite shoulder, Priscilla's hand comes back down with a massive, wickedly sharp scythe, made entirely of a single piece of some whorled, black and silver metal that looks like it grew out of something. Looking at the thing gives the impression that it's vibrating faintly, or more likely, that one's vision refuses to settle on the edge, flicking erratically off. Despite the weapon's intimidating look though, for an astonishing change of pace, it's used for what a scythe is supposedly for. Priscilla turns it over in her hands as if it weighs nothing, and then with one, then two, sweeping slashes at ankle level, quick enough to blow up a chill wind, she has taken care of all the brush within several meters. In fact, even beyond that, the stalks and leaves start to crumble to dust, as if badly scorched or rotted. "Gladly." she replies, in detached deadpan, letting her eyes rove over the ground for sign of a door or handle.
Laer	Prior arrangements had been made that might impact the trip to the tavern. Very slightly prior, at least; Flint's got someone already in place there. Namely, Laer, who is there already. She's not got much hope of completely blending in, but she's at least got her ears covered, a red cloth wrapped over her hair and the tops of her ears. She's also attempting to hide in plain sight through the clever use of alcohol, drinking deeply. She'll lift a hand whenever crew members might enter, with or without some of her Concord associates, but will partly disguise it as an attempt to get the attention of the barkeep. It's still going to attract the attention of almost everyone; at the very least, the elf should be a useful distraction from anyone suspecting a more normal buyer. She'll be expensing the cost of the drinks later on, though she'll at least be nice enough to not pad the bill. Mostly because she doubts she could get away with it.
Captain Flint	Gates claps the Kid on the back. "Good thinking, lad!" he says. "That'll give her legitimacy, too--maybe more than just spending money on her own." Haguro says she'll do her best, and Gates simply nods in understanding. "I don't doubt it, Miss Haguro. The Concord's only sent us the best so far." As the town grows closer (and the stench grows stronger) Hal offers a bit of advice. "The people in this town can be... difficult." At that, Billy scoffs. "If you find the seller, don't show weakness. This is your hard earned money," he explains. "You've worked for it, sweat over it, maybe even bled for it. You're not going to give it away without proof it's worth the expenditure." Gates takes a look around, noting a balcony overlooking the town square, extending from the tavern. "Billy," says the bald quartermaster with authoritative tone. "Let's get some drinks and pull up a stool there," gesturing with a hand to the balcony. "We'll be in radio contact with you--we've got a friend of yours inside the tavern waiting to help, but if you need us to help you, the codeword's lantern." With that, the two pirates file into the tavern and are up on the balcony with mugs of ale in a matter of minutes, leaving Haguro and the Kid to decide which establishment to infiltrate. In the untamed wilderness of New Providence, Flint ponders Priscilla's question. "I doubt he's really a cook," agrees the captain. "Billy, and Clara, a recent addition to my crew, found him cowering in the hold of the ship we took to get the logbook. Given recent events, I suspect he killed that ship's cook and posed as one himself--the crew was happy to take on a cook, owing to the performance of the Walrus' cook at the time. Happy enough to overlook the dead man in the hold with him, when he was found. That man, whoever he was, must've been the original thief. Silver simply saw an opportunity and took it before he came aboard the Walrus." When Priscilla draws her scythe, Flint peers at it, squinting. Admittedly, the wonders of the Multiverse cast doubts in his mind as to what it'll be used for. He even rests a hand upon the hilt of his saber cautiously--not that he's ever fought someone using a bloody scythe before. When the brush dies away, a trap door covered in dust is revealed, planks bleached with age and unmistakably warped from years of abuse from the weather. Flint's hand slides off of his sword, and he smiles, for the first time, at Priscilla. Flint takes hold of the thick iron handle on the door, reaching for his pistol and quietly pulling the hammer back with a muted 'click.' The door creaks open, sunlight rushing through to reveal a tunnel with some supplies stashed away right near the entrance. Gently releasing the hammer to a resting state, the captain holsters the weapon with a relieved sigh and enters the tunnel, offering Priscilla a hand.
Haguro	Haguro actually perks up when Gates approves of the plan, smiling at the Kid in turn. "I'll be counting on you, then. It'll be easier to talk with you around, too..." She chuckles lightly, then steadies her expression as they start towards the town itself. The smell actually doesn't seem to have the ship girl reeling at all. She might actually be used to it. Billy's tips have her grunting in acknowledgment every now and then, and her expression even hardens slowly as she settles into more of a game face. "Understood. A friend, you say...?" That's more of a relief. The more people around to keep things under control, the better. Then again, if she's the one talking... Doesn't that mean more people are counting on her not to screw up? Haguro's starting to tense up again, but another deep breath and a glance around to make sure the Kid is still with her and everyone is still in position has her calming down. Afterwards, she heads for the closest tavern. Her target: Any tables that are within eyesight of both Billy and Gates up top as well as Laer from the inside.
The Kid	Kid staggers a little from the hearty slap, but nods to Gates. Their idea to hang out on a balcony as lookouts is a good one, so he nods to it. With a glance to Haguro, he partially unsheathes his machete and thumbs the hammers on his holstered Repeaters, indicating he's prepared should things go south. Looking over to Laer, he raises an eyebrow but nods. Good, additional backup. Once they've found their seats, he makes a show of fishing out several coins in small denominations to pay for a drink. He actually has much more than that, owing to the Concord's generous financing. But he's been to rough places like this, and flashing cash is a fast way to get unwanted attention. Better to dissuade anyone before they even try.
Laer	Laer will slam her empty mug down onto the bar, doing her very best portrayel of an out-of-towner who's imbibed a bit too much at the bar. She's flashing her money, intentionally so, playing her role as distraction to the hilt. It should allow for the pettier sorts of criminals to target her, rather than those who came here to pose as buyers. Hopefully she'll get to leave with her money, too, or that'll be on the expense report as well. Not that robbing her would actually be a good idea. She's not that drunk. In spite of the story she starts to tell, at least. "You know, this isn't the worst bar I've ever been in! There was the one where things kept falling on the roof. It was very distracting, and it made it hard to get a proper drink from them..." She's rambling, telling it rather incoheriently. That's a bit of a giveaway if any present actually knew her that she's faking it, but her voice manages to carry remarkably well.
Priscilla	Pleased to find the trap door quickly enough, Priscilla puts her scythe away . . . somehow, and delicately takes hold of Flint's hand to stoop down the undoubtedly ancient descent. Her fingers feel like she just came inside from the winter fog. The pistol is something she recognizes, and the general fact it is armed, and so she produces something from her voluminous sleeve; an extremely long knife built in the same organic, curvy way as the scythe, with a twisted hilt and guard. "It is similar to what I suspected then. Either he was aware of the book's purpose aboard the ship of its transport, and coveted it the moment it was liberated, or else arrived upon the ship only to see it from the beginning." Her free hand falls to a silver chain at her waist, touching a translucent, crystalline stone, which lights up with gentle, colourless illumination. Aside from that however, Priscilla is on guard for the scent of the living; not in the literal sense, with her nose, but the way the creatures of Lordran find the souls they crave.
Captain Flint	Above the tavern, Gates and Billy observe the square. In particular, there's an argument between a Captain Naft and an appraiser, taking place before (and about) two paintings--one of which is clearly a poor recreation of the other. Gawking in exasperation, Naft motions between the two paintings. "Fruit, fruit," he says stubbornly. "Tits, tits! Plant, PLANT! It's the fuckin' same!" While the appraiser tries in vain to explain that poor forgeries are nowhere near the value of genuine articles, Haguro and the kid enter the tavern, in view of the pirates should they turn around. The help has some pep in their step today, as it seems Flint's crew is giving the tavern quite a bit of business. Laer, the Kid and Haguro are all served with admirable expediency. It also seems that Nassau has attracted rogues of the Multiversal variety--while Haguro's guns do draw some attention, the wooden automaton armwrestling with the seven foot tall hairy creature shows that, at the very least, it isn't Nassau's first rodeo. In time, eyes are off of Laer, Haguro, and the Kid. All of them except those of a smug, dirty looking urchin with mussed up blond hair, no older than twelve. It takes him a moment to do so, but he eventually approaches Laer's table, drawn in by the con without realizing it. He takes a seat at her table, smiling. "Are you from the colonies?" he asks. "Or the Multiverse? I've never met someone from the Multiverse before." It's probably a lie, since this is the most obvious 'innocent little kid' scam Laer has likely ever seen--but at least he's not bothering the others. Haguro and the kid, meanwhile, don't get much attention at first. Without much pomp or circumstance, an old man finds himself at their table, eyeing Kid (and Haguro's guns) warily. His complexion is dark, his hair white with age, his eyes hinting at wisdom from a long and difficult life. "Quite the arsenal, between you," he neutrally observes. "I would hate to find myself on the wrong end of it." He takes a look around him, as if weary of others listening in. "Must be costly to maintain. Maybe you're looking to make some money to... offset those costs." The old man continues. "If I'm right--and I usually am--I represent someone who can help you. If you're interested, see Max at the brothel. If not, someone else will," he says with a knowing smile. "Assuming they haven't already." It's the oldest pitch in the book--the 'keeping up with the Joneses' approach. But at least it's a lead. Meanwhile, above, Gates spots something of interest, too--a messenger approaches the appraiser and exchanges words, before leading him to the other side of town. To the brothel. He immediately radios it in. Meanwhile, in the tunnel, Priscilla's light illuminates the surroundings. With that and the light from the sun touching the entrance, the two can easily explore the chamber. It seems that the two of them are the only ones in this area, as no other souls but theirs are evident. That being said, while Flint rummages through the dead drop by the entrance, Priscilla will no doubt see a small bead just inches from the entrance, nearly hidden by the sand. Within the bead is a lock of brown hair that must've been torn when the owner of both entered the tunnels. As he fruitlessly flips through the pages of a coded leger for recent entries, the captain asks, "See anything of note?"
Haguro	Drinks! Of course. Haguro swallows lightly as she tries to muster up the willpower to order some drinks for herself, but... Well, the Kid's got that handled well enough already. Laer, too, from the sounds of it, although the ship girl doesn't dare wave at her just in case. Maintaing a good cover is important, after all, and she needs to make sure nobody's is blown this early. Instead, she's just taking a quick look around, taking note of the rather colorful individuals inside and outside of the tavern already. Not being the only strange one around certianly helps to an extent. She's trying to play up the expression of a proper business woman, but looking more like a weirdly armed nun or something might not help that much. Luckily, someone does approach their table regardless, and Haguro has to fight the urge to look directly at him in order to maintain the facade. "Quite... We may be. Max at the... Brothel?" She repeats that last part quietly, her jaw tensing briefly before she puts a. "... We'll see. This best be worth it." Yes, she's even trying to sound curt, too. Whether that has the intended effect or not remains to be seen, but the boat ghost is back on her feet fairly soon after sitting down, and she nods towards the Kid before starting towards the brothel next. Once they're out of earshot, she'll also lean in to whisper. "Do you want to take the lead here? It might be... Strange if I do over there."
The Kid	Kid is indeed an expert at drinks, especially when it comes to drinking them. He pounds back his one in a single breath, then wrinkles his face at the empty flagon. "Basically water. Probably straight from the ocean from the taste." He puts it down and pushes it away when the elderly fellow approaches. He gets a hard look, and no response from him. But he does stand up to head off, tilting his head to listen to Haguro. "Yeah, probably. Stick close once we're there." This is actually unfamiliar territory, but he's his older fellows on the Wall share stories of such places. When Gates reports over the radio, he frowns. Multiple people being summoned? Is this the foundation for some kind of collaborative effort? Either way, it gives him someone to tail. He has no idea where it is, after all.
Laer	"Oh, I've been from colonies before! Or not from. At, I guess." Laer replies to the kid. "Aren't you a little young to be drinking in here, though, and asking strange people from the multiverse if they're from the multiverse? Why, where I'm from - the multiverse, since you asked - it's considered a great evil to ask a woman where she's from, or what she might have done there, or if she has any outstanding warrants." That last one isn't quite like the others, really. She doesn't seem to be heading out to the brothel, not right away - it would be too suspicious if she left with the others right off. "Trust me, kid, if you keep hanging out in places like this, there'll come a day when you decide you need to be in a different place like this, drinking yourself into a stupor to forget why you needed to leave, ready to just unleash your dark and foul magicks on anyone foolish enough to try to cross you or steal from you. Do you have dark and foul magicks, here?" She'll ask, perking up and looking at the urchin.
Priscilla	"Very little." Priscilla admits to Flint, both in the sense that there is little of interest to see, and little visible in general. She isn't even wholly sure what kind of things pirates would drop off here, never mind store. How many of them know about it? Would they steal from each other? Is it's just Flint's place. "No other man, at the very least. Nothing lives beneath." When she's just about ready to go back out and wait for Flint to finish, she catches sight of the unlikely clue, quietly moving toward it without a word, and plucking it from the sand, turning it over to look at it. "I supposeth not this is much to identify with, but at the very least it demonstrates that thine safehouse is frequented, no?" she asks, holding it up against the light so that Flint can see it.
Captain Flint	Haguro and the Kid have their work cut out for them. It's a short jaunt to the brothel, mostly a straight line. The appraiser keeps a brisk pace, but not one so quick as to lose two Concord Elites. There's also the matter of his hat, which is quite distinctive, a flat-brimmed affair with one side turned up and a feather placed at a jaunty angle. Soon enough, the two of them arrive in the brothel. It's more or less what one would expect, with all the usual sights. A two-story building, the bottom floor connects to the upper floor by way of a staircase in the center of house. The appraiser is currently climbing that staircase, and by the time the two get to the center of the house, he's already closing a door to a room behind him. Standing in front of the door is a rather mean-looking woman wearing a green longcoat and a rawhide hat pushed down to hide her face. At her side are two knives. With her standing guard, it's unlikely the appraiser is here on lesiure--no, he's here to appraise the value of something, as appraisers do, and whatever it is, it merits posting a guard by the door. Meanwhile, back in the tavern, the urchin undergoes a curious shift in demeanor. It's all fun and games to him at first, as he clearly knows the bit about 'great evil' is just hot air. But when Laer starts mentioning warrants and dark magic, he swallows nervously. "No, ma'am," he says, looking away slightly. "No dark magick that I know of. Just pirates." He clears his throat. "But, you know, around here, if there were someone who would... unleash said magicks, it'd be considered... rude. And, completely hypothetically, of course, I'm sure that no one here would give them cause to! We know better than to steal from... them types." In the tunnels, Flint narrows his eyes upon being presented with the bead. He steps closer, scrutinizing it. "Yes," he says. "Though I believe I know who it belonged to. He's currently on the island; something of a rival. I hope that I'm wrong." He frowns. "These tunnels lead to a variety of places all over the island. We should stay here a moment and wait for any developments from the other group. If there's to be a meeting, I'm confident we can get to it from here."
Priscilla	Priscilla turns the bead over again, briefly wondering what kind of man wears beads in their hair, before allowing herself a mental shrug, and handing it over. She has no intentions of hanging on to someone's hair; not when Flint is the one who recognizes it especially. "How large am I to understandeth this island is, asides?" she asks almost conversationally, clearing the dust away from a particular crate and seating herself. "And how many dwell upon it? It seems a popular gathering place. If this 'rival' is here also." Blatant prompting.
The Kid	The Multiverse has made the Kid do things he's never done before. But this whole scenario is probably the most bizarre yet. I mean, who uses a brothel for a business proposal? Honestly? Either way, he strides inside with Haguro in tow, and has a very firm glare for anyone who might make even a single comment at the pair. Up the stairs, only to see the woman standing guard. After a quick exchange over the radio, he sighs. Rival crews, of course. Just like the old books his ma used to read to him. But, they need to be inside. No problem here, they were invited. With a steady stride, he walks up to the door, gives the woman-Anne Bonny apparently-a slight nod, and tries to enter!
Haguro	If something is bothering Haguro, she's... Actually, it's pretty easy to tell that something's bugging her. It only seems to be getting worse as they draw closer to the brothel, and it becomes relatively clear that it's the location itself rather than any of the work they're doing in tracking down the missing page. Luckily, it doesn't look like anyone she knows (beyond those involved in the missions) is here to recognize her, so that's some small comfort to be had. Plus, the Kid is doing well in swapping roles with her. She's switching from her previous attempt at a stern look to a slightly more anxious one, although it's not so much acting as it is restraining her actual reactions more. It's a /brothel/, after all, and the mere idea of being in such a place is enough to have her trying not to look at anyone too closely. Well, besides the guard posted at the front. With that instruction from Flint, Haguro follows her partner's lead and gives the woman a short nod before quickly breaking eye contact to try entering as well.
Laer	"You know better than to steal from them types, do you? Well, that's probably wise, at least." Laer will say, before tipping back her mug and leaning back in her chair. "You wouldn't even want me to tell you of the sorts of curses that can befall the foolish that way. You wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Why, I haven't slept one minute since the time that I took.. well, you don't need to hear about that, either. Here, have a coin and go fetch me some food, would you, boy?" That last is said as she snaps out of her story, tossing more than enough money to the suddenly non-thief to cover a decent meal around these parts. Which is probably just going to mean some sort of oddly cooked fish, but Laer will deal with that. "You can even keep the change, if you want."
Captain Flint	In the tavern, Laer's made a friend. The urchin gleefully fetches food and uses the difference to get himself something, too. "Thanks, ma'am!" In short order they're brought a plate of salt cod each, which the serving girl explains is a local staple. He hasn't had a substantial meal in a while, evidently, as he's suddenly more interested in stuffing his face than trying to con Laer. Flint, in the cavern, takes a moment to provide Priscilla with answers. "The island covers an area of about eighty miles, give or take," he says. "Of that, Nassau is the most densely populated, but there are plantation owners, their families and their slaves in the inland. Twenty five years ago, the Spanish sacked Nassau; razed it to the ground. Ever since then, no matter how much England would have it said otherwise, the island's been a haven for pirates. In the past, Richard Guthrie was able to keep the House of Lords satisfied with bribes--but, now that he's been charged with treason (which is a story in and of itself, I assure you) we'll need to find a different method of funding those bribes. Hence, our search for the page." "Jesus Christ," spits Anne. She steps astride the door, temporarily blocking the way. "Not another one. The old man sent you, yeah?" She makes an appraisal of her own, looking the two elites up and down. "Don't move." She enters the room, closing the door behind her, and following a heated exchange from inside, the elites are ushered in. Standing before them are the appraiser, a girl who must be Max, and two other men. One of the men has short, black hair and quite distinctive sideburns, almost shaped like thin Ls. He peers at the two elites with a superior smirk. The other man, with a mess of long brown hair interwoven with beads, is less amused. He's the one that speaks up. "Who the fuck are they?" he asks Anne. "The old bastard's trying to double dip again," Anne states rather bluntly. Max sighs, and addresses Haguro and the Kid. "I /am/ sorry to break this news to you," she says, her French accent quite different from the British ones so often heard in Nassau. "But we were already in the process of finalizing our transaction. You will have to forgive my assistant--he is paid commission for bringing leads to me. Now, as I recall--" The man with the long brown hair interjects. "As /I/ recall you were explaining to me why I shouldn't break you in half for lying to me." "Charles," says the fellow with the sideburns, in so doing identifying the long-haired fellow as Charles Vane. "She isn't lying. Flint is. He lost the page. So what does he do? He bluffs. He makes Singleton the thief, kills him to prevent counterargument, putting a tidy end to his mutiny in the process, then, hopes he can recover it before anyone's the wiser." Vane seems momentarily pacified... but it only lasts a moment. "Is that what you thought?!" He bellows. "You thought you could fuck my crew out of our money?" While Max shrinks away from him, the other man edges closer to a hole in the wall. A hole that would be very, very good to spy through. Drawing a knife, he stabs it into the hole--and sure enough, a startled shout erupts from the adjacent room, followed by the sound of hurried footfalls. Retrieving the blade and finding only a bead of sweat upon it, the man with the crazy sideburns takes advantage of the hushed silence that falls over the room. "Unless Mr. Singleton rose from the grave to eavesdrop on us," says the smug pirate, "It would appear she's telling the truth." Vane scowls. "You have five thousand dollars of my money. If Jack here is wrong, he'll answer to my crew. If you're lying... you'll answer to me." With that, the captain of the Ranger departs, slamming the door behind him.
Captain Flint	Jack looks over the gathered crowd. "Yes," he says matter-of-factly. "All right." He promptly follows suit, as does Anne Bonny--who slips a few gold pieces to the appraiser, who then quietly leaves. The only one remaining in the room save Haguro and the Kid is Max, very visibly shaken from her encounter with Vane. They don't have the page, or Silver--but they know who sold it on his behalf, and she's sitting right in front of them. Perhaps it's time for a little question and answer.