Logs:TSO-NOLA - Four(ty) Thieves Part 4
TSO-NOLA - Four(ty) Thieves Part 4
|Characters:||Tristesse, Mingzhu as ST|
|Summary:||Tristesse gets an unusual job offer.|
People pass by - on errands, sightseeing, or just browsing the shops and looking for food. People in groups, pairs, a few individuals here and there. One of those approaches Tristesse's table. A young woman, maybe late teens or early twenties, pale skin and dark brown hair and eyes, dressed quite conservatively despite the heat - high necked blouse, ankle length skirt cinched with a wide belt. She doesn't ask to join the Darkling, simply sits opposite her, offering a brief but friendly smile on red-painted lips. "Hope you don't mind me joining you. I've been looking for you." Despite the potentially ominous words, she doesn't sound threatening, more curious.
The darkling stays still for a moment, her eyes studying the woman when she slips in to the seat. Of course, the dark lenses make it hard to see Tristesse's eyes behind them. Her hand moves, eventually, lips releasing the straw and hand lowering to rest the cup on the table. "I think maybe you have me confused with someone else, miss," is said politely, but with skepticism.
The young woman's smile grows slightly. "I don't think so," she replies, her words quiet. "I'm looking for people with certain skills, and I've a feeling you're one of them." She doesn't elaborate on what skills, leaving that question in the air for Tristesse to ask if she feels the need.
Clasping her hands on the tabletop in front of her, her body-language relaxed, she tilts her head slightly. "Would you be interested in taking on a job?"
Tristesse is quiet and still again, but there's a tension just under her skin that is reminiscent of birds, ready to fly at any moment. Her brows lift a little above the dark frames of her sunglasses, though, and it's clear she's curious. "It depends on the sort of job. Also how you know who I am. Do we have clients in common, would you say?" she asks.
Sitting back comfortably, the stranger murmurs, "I don't know who you are, per-se. Just that you're capable. The job? Recovering something that has been taken from me, from those who stole it." She doesn't go into detail - not out here where a dozen or more ears can hear. "The pay is good, and you probably won't be working alone."
"And what sort of something was taken from you?" Tristesse asks, leaning forward a little to cross her arms along the edge of the table. "There are some things that are not worth the money or the danger. Even if it's rightfully yours." She lifts a shoulder about the others. "I don't always play well with others, but if they're capable and professional, we'll see."
"A family heirloom," the woman replies mildly. "If you're concerned about danger, this might not be the job for you," she then allows, her smile turning slightly rueful. It isn't mockery, just acceptance that not everyone will be interested in the job she's offering. "It isn't going to be a walk in the park. Hence, the option of working with others. But that's a decision to be made by the group who'll be doing it, not by me. Who they need, who they don't."
Tris lifts a shoulder. "I'm not particularly worried about danger exactly. More that I won't put myself in danger for something I don't see value in -- whatever that value may be." She smiles slightly. "That's more about the people or their motivations than the object itself, usually." She tips her head. "I'm interested. What's the pay, or is that also a mystery at this point?"
"Commensurate to the skill. I'm not hiring professionals on a shoestring budget," the woman assures. "I'm bringing the group together in a few days to discuss the job in more detail. If you're interested, you're welcome to join us and find out more. No commitment at that point, you can leave if you decide it isn't for you," she then proposes. "Or we can part ways here."
Tristesse nods, tipping her head the other way, still and quiet again for a moment. "I'm interested," she repeats. "Do you know how to get in contact with me, or do you need a number?" she asks. Her smile tips up at one corner. "I thought you were going to try to get me to join the Scientologists or something. That's usually what happens when strangers decide to strike up a conversation with me."
Taking her phone from her pocket, setting it up to add a new contact, the woman slides it across the table for Tristesse to enter her details. "I could find you again, I think, but this is much easier," she replies with another small smile. "I'm not selling any religion here, I promise. None of them have it right, so why would anyone care to listen to what they say?"
The darkling takes the phone, tapping in the digits and just the letter T for the name field. "Ain't that the truth," she says wryly regarding the religions. "So what do I call you, boss?" she asks curiously, reaching for her plastic cup again, sipping more of the cool coffee through the purple straw.
Taking the phone back and tucking it into her pocket once more after checking what was input, the woman laughs quietly. "Boss is fine for now. I look forward to seeing you soon, 'T'." Then she stands, clearly preparing to depart.
Teeth flash in a quick grin at the laugh and use of the initial 'T.' Apparently Tristesse has a sense of humor in there after all, despite that tension beneath her skin. "Sounds good," says the darkling, tone nonchalant, much the same way someone might reply to an invitation to a party they haven't decided they'll attend. "Enjoy the rest of your day."