Magpie watched him and yet, for someone who wasn't already at an advantage in the conversation, there would've been little to catch: a mere widening of the eyes, a held breath, an adamant refusal combined with feigned ignorance. Though the chug of whiskey in one tilt back didn't support the man's attempted disinterest.
The blond youth couldn’t help it. He’d barely held quiet when he’d heard the terrible attempt at ignorance, "her name" when he had led with do you know a man before sliding the piece of vellum over. It was too over the top. Something had rattled loose, and Oberan had lost his cool, resulted in an overcompensation that swung much too far aside. That, combined with the guzzled dishwater of liquor...
Mister Magpie chuckled. His mask muffled most of the noise. He leaned back in the seat and covered his face with his gloved hand so he couldn’t be seen. Because he wheezed in near-silent laughter, especially when he heard the man's quick need for departure next. Though he hid his eyes behind a hand and his quiet snickers behind a mask, his shoulders quivered.
He gathered himself, however, and put down his hand. The foreigner looked over the other man, and his irises had changed color. The brilliant topaz yellow color had returned, glimmered with specks of white that lit up within the orbs in perpetual motion.
“Why not have another?” he offered. “You’ll probably need it.”
Fixing his gloves with casual pulls at the cuffs, he didn’t explain the comment in the slightest. Instead, he politely smiled behind his mask and it showed in his warmly glittering eyes. He waved to the barmaid, then gestured at the empty glass in front of Oberan.
“There is something else,” he said. “Another name I’m curious about whether you have any information. Don’t you want a reward, Mar… apologies, what was it again? Marzell?”
He picked up the charcoal pencil again, flipped the thin writing instrument between his fingers in a flourish - since the whole conversation had put him in a rather good mood for once - and then he scratched at Kasoria’s name so it was blacked out on the vellum. He flipped over the scrap, then scribbled on the backside. Once finished, he pushed it over and inclined his head in gesture for the other man to read the second name:
“Even a little bit of information could be useful. Something that you didn’t even realize was useful, like that time a boyish woman went out the back door instead of the front, or… if your… neighbor ever had any women over at all or if he lived the life of a modest, lonely hermit.” He added in an overly helpful tone with a pat of his hand on the table surface.
“I mean, certainly, if you cared enough to be aware of his own presence in and out his home, you must have had some clue as to what your neighbor was up to?” Magpie was thankful for his mask. It would’ve been so much more difficult to manage composure if he didn’t have the reminder of the smooth lining of strong-smelling leather over his lower face. The scent kept him aware, kept him in the present moment, focused on the older man.
While the barmaid brought over the second glass of Milldeck's and set it down, he stood.
He took the vellum and neatly folded it in half. He set it in a front pocket along his darkly dyed attire. Magpie glanced at the grimy windows.
“Hm. Looks like the rain will be getting worse. I’ll let you be with your personal business. If you think of anything, Mister Marwell, you can…” he dug around in his satchel, then pulled out a slender card made out of thin blonde wood with a stamped blue-ink seal, of a crow with a coin in its beak, on the backside. “Go there, and tell them you’re looking for me.”
His southern medley accent lilted and lulled while he spoke quickly with a casual gesture as he pointed at the other man and said, “Oh, and if you see Oberan, please tell him that it’d be better if he meets with me before attempting to run. If he leaves the city now, he’ll be headed right into… well, oops. I mean, if he's in the city that is. I mean no harm, quite the opposite. I’d simply like to help him if possible.”
“Thank you for your time. Enjoy the heart-warming dishwater.” He drew his hood up, which shadowed his features from easy sight, and then he left the tavern without pause - no matter if the other man spoke or not. Once outside, however, he slowly headed back in the direction of Oberan's home.
The blond youth couldn’t help it. He’d barely held quiet when he’d heard the terrible attempt at ignorance, "her name" when he had led with do you know a man before sliding the piece of vellum over. It was too over the top. Something had rattled loose, and Oberan had lost his cool, resulted in an overcompensation that swung much too far aside. That, combined with the guzzled dishwater of liquor...
Mister Magpie chuckled. His mask muffled most of the noise. He leaned back in the seat and covered his face with his gloved hand so he couldn’t be seen. Because he wheezed in near-silent laughter, especially when he heard the man's quick need for departure next. Though he hid his eyes behind a hand and his quiet snickers behind a mask, his shoulders quivered.
He gathered himself, however, and put down his hand. The foreigner looked over the other man, and his irises had changed color. The brilliant topaz yellow color had returned, glimmered with specks of white that lit up within the orbs in perpetual motion.
“Why not have another?” he offered. “You’ll probably need it.”
Fixing his gloves with casual pulls at the cuffs, he didn’t explain the comment in the slightest. Instead, he politely smiled behind his mask and it showed in his warmly glittering eyes. He waved to the barmaid, then gestured at the empty glass in front of Oberan.
“There is something else,” he said. “Another name I’m curious about whether you have any information. Don’t you want a reward, Mar… apologies, what was it again? Marzell?”
He picked up the charcoal pencil again, flipped the thin writing instrument between his fingers in a flourish - since the whole conversation had put him in a rather good mood for once - and then he scratched at Kasoria’s name so it was blacked out on the vellum. He flipped over the scrap, then scribbled on the backside. Once finished, he pushed it over and inclined his head in gesture for the other man to read the second name:
Zipper.
“Even a little bit of information could be useful. Something that you didn’t even realize was useful, like that time a boyish woman went out the back door instead of the front, or… if your… neighbor ever had any women over at all or if he lived the life of a modest, lonely hermit.” He added in an overly helpful tone with a pat of his hand on the table surface.
“I mean, certainly, if you cared enough to be aware of his own presence in and out his home, you must have had some clue as to what your neighbor was up to?” Magpie was thankful for his mask. It would’ve been so much more difficult to manage composure if he didn’t have the reminder of the smooth lining of strong-smelling leather over his lower face. The scent kept him aware, kept him in the present moment, focused on the older man.
While the barmaid brought over the second glass of Milldeck's and set it down, he stood.
He took the vellum and neatly folded it in half. He set it in a front pocket along his darkly dyed attire. Magpie glanced at the grimy windows.
“Hm. Looks like the rain will be getting worse. I’ll let you be with your personal business. If you think of anything, Mister Marwell, you can…” he dug around in his satchel, then pulled out a slender card made out of thin blonde wood with a stamped blue-ink seal, of a crow with a coin in its beak, on the backside. “Go there, and tell them you’re looking for me.”
His southern medley accent lilted and lulled while he spoke quickly with a casual gesture as he pointed at the other man and said, “Oh, and if you see Oberan, please tell him that it’d be better if he meets with me before attempting to run. If he leaves the city now, he’ll be headed right into… well, oops. I mean, if he's in the city that is. I mean no harm, quite the opposite. I’d simply like to help him if possible.”
“Thank you for your time. Enjoy the heart-warming dishwater.” He drew his hood up, which shadowed his features from easy sight, and then he left the tavern without pause - no matter if the other man spoke or not. Once outside, however, he slowly headed back in the direction of Oberan's home.
