One Day At A Time


Kelarad.jpg Max.jpg Flack.jpg Waine.jpg Yaron.jpg and Crawl (NPC)

Date: Feb. 19, 2011
Location: EW: Living Cavern, Max's Office
Synopsis: Max and Kelarad meet and touch on many topics while their seconds throw insults at each other. It's the start of a budding alliance.
Rating: PG-15 for language
Logger: Jaya

The living cavern was sparsely populated this late morning. The crimelord of Tillek along with his second-in-command took up a late morning meal after sleeping in, the two deep in conversation. This day there wasn’t anything set up, but Kelarad was determined to either track the new crimelord of the south himself, or his wayward cousin, Olira before the day ended. He’s only seen Bajaya Dicori briefly, the barkeep far busy in her business of running the bar for him to take up much of her time. Plus he was sure that his Telgari guest was going to be about the woman a lot, anyway. Part of him was looking forward to seeing the Weyr with Max – not to mention the business of starting a fighting circuit down here, which could possibly be good for his own business. “Remind me to speak to Flack before I head back up north, as well,” he’s telling Crawl, detailing to him reminders along with the hopes of what could be accomplished this day. He had every intention of leaving out sometime tomorrow, the man not used to being so far from his business like this. Perhaps Keane was right. He does need to get away sometimes a bit more. Crawl nods, shoving some greens into his mouth as if he hasn’t eaten in days. “Maybe we could look at opening up that racing circuit that you wanted,” he suggests, but Kelarad’s already grimacing before the sentence is finished. “Vaputero has too many of his people down here right now,” the crimelord states, frowning heavily. “Not to mention that we now have Max to contend with down here as well. Let’s take it one day at a time, hm?” and while he was at it, he’ll mentally make a note to discuss with Flack how good a market such races would be down here in the south since he’s been down here long enough to know.

Having only found out about his Tillekian counterparts presence in the Weyr upon his return late the night before, Max took the decision to seek the man out the following morning. And so, after having seen to his ‘day job’ and handed out duties for the day, then checked up on the new line of double fencing being built into the feeding pens, he along with his ‘second’ Waine (or Jaisynn as the two visitors would likely know him) headed down into the Weyr proper to seek Kelarad out. The living caverns happening to be his first place to look for the man. And so it is, nodding greeting to the few about that give it, dark eyes land on the crimelord and second. Angling his path that way Southern crimelord and second come to a halt at the table they occupy missing the tail end of the conversation being held. Or so it would seem for Max’s expression is healthily bland, save for the glimmer of a smile, “Kelarad, Crawl. Welcome to my home.” Stated in such a manner as to suggest he were the Weyrleader himself rather than simply the beast manager and not a day late in greeting his guests, unexpected as they were. And as to Waine? He says nothing; merely folds his thickly muscled arms across his broad chest and sets a deep smirk onto Crawl that reads ‘Remember me?’

“One day at a time,” Crawl is answering his boss, nodding his head through his food before he was the first to notice Max’s arrival. It’s only when Crawl straightens up, his eyes falling Waine with a tightening of his jaw that it gets Kelarad’s attention. The man straightens as well at Max’s words, but he doesn’t turn around right away to look at them. Still finishing up his meal, “Hope you don’t mind me popping in,” he drawls as he sets his eating utensil down, a light and significant smirk falling on his lips. As one, the men get abandon their plates and gets to their feet, Kelarad turning to greet Max with an incline of his head. Blue eyes fall on Waine then, “If it isn’t an old fighter of mine,” he states to him with a twitch of brows. Behind him, coming to step to his boss’s side, Crawl adds in with a slight sneer, “Not surprised to see your ilk about this place, Jaisynn.” Yeah, he remembers him, alright. Chin dropping some in a pause, “What, not holed up between some tart’s thighs?” It’s probably seen as a challenge, and Crawl doesn’t look to be taking it back. The crimelord doesn’t seem to be asking him to anytime soon, either. In fact, “Where is that former trainer of mine, anyway?” he asks, making a show of looking around the place and expecting Yaron to emerge shortly. His gaze falls on Max finally then, stepping forward and adding, “I must say,” he drawls lightly, the smile touching his lips now, “that after that stunt you pulled with the dead body? I’ve been looking forward to seeing you down here for a good while now.”

Thumbs hook to his belt and Max settles a faintly amused look onto the Tillekian visitors as they choose to finish their meals first and would likely have come back with something like ‘Mi casa, Su casa’, were the phrase a part of Pernese language. Instead, whatever irritation Kelarad’s unexpected arrival might have caused is put aside in favour of giving a drawled, “Hope you don’t mind that I wasn’t here to greet you personal-like. I trust you’ve found your stay to your satisfaction thus far?” in return. The blonde man inclines his head in greeting, and the beast manager extends a hand with a sidelong glance going to his second as Kelarad addresses comment to him. Whatever he was about to say is cut off when Waine, flicks an amused smirk back over to Crawl and gives a shrug of broad shoulders, “Nah, I gave your mama the day off.” Max gives a light roll of eyes but does nothing to reprimand the big man choosing instead to focus back onto the conversation between himself and Tillek’s crimelord. “Trainer?” openly feigning innocence despite the shrewd look that enters his eyes, “Ah, you mean that glowtender of yours, aye?” Deliberately touching on Flack’s presence at the Weyr and being in the dirty blonde’s employ. It’s Kelarad’s last that draws a smirk of darker proportions into play and Max takes a step backward with a gesture toward the exit, “Perhaps somewhere a little less…public to continue our discussions?” Not answering on the matter of the dead body dropped in Nabol just yet.

“I imagine my visit is unexpected for that,” Kelarad returns blithely, easily with a brief sweep of his hand over his food. “But our stay has been quite. Your mother has seen to that.” Lips curl just a tad there, but he doesn’t address it further. As he takes that extended hand, “Nice,” Crawl speaks up in return, eyes narrowing at Waine’s backhanded comment. “At least you do. I’ve never given yours such distinct courtesy.” – “Nedderon,” Kelarad tacks on behind the counter statement, ignoring the barbs between seconds in favor of amusement at the mention of his man, Flack. “I believe you took him up, too? Your mother made us believe so, with her questioning.” – “Must have a serious issue with names,” Crawl tacks on, his hard gaze still on Waine. “I suppose you changed theirs, too, beyond recognition?” – “Crawl, you know they did,” Kelarad sends to his second, the smile more prominent now. To Max, “I trust you’ve had no trouble with my glowtender, at least?” Then he eyes the exit before as one, crimelord and second both get to their feet and the former gestures towards the exit at the other’s words. “Less public would be ideal,” he states, looking about them at the few weyrfolk currently populating the living cavern. “Lead away.”

There is just the barest narrowing of eyes in response to Kelarad’s curl of lip in regards to the hospitality extended by his mother, Max is however wise enough not to take up on it. Not in the least bit fazed by the Crawl’s return, Waine bears teeth in a grin of genuine amusement, even uttering a chuckle, “Good, cause the ole bag can’t cook to save her life.” The big former dockhand having not a clue who his dam might have been, given that he had grown up in foster care. Strong grip to strong grip, the shake of hands executed with Southern’s crimelord finding no need to use such a gesture of welcome to try and assert male testosterone. “Ah,” Max gives as if he’d needed that memory jolt from Kelarad, “Nedderon. Man needed a place to stay so being the good host that I am…” words cut off and the Tillekian crimelord is set with a narrow eyed look, the beast manager’s jaw working tightly. “With her…questioning?” a flash of anger fleeting behind dark eyes and then gone again. On the matter of names exchanged for new ones it’s Waine that gives forth a snort and a muttered, “Waine’s better’n Crawl. What’s the deal with that anyways? Crawl…” snort. To which, stepping aside as Kelarad and his second stand, Max sends his counterpart a slightly exasperated though amused look for the thinly veiled insults being flung between seconds, “You want I should throw ‘em in a ring to duke it out and have Flack referee?” Which might answer to his thus far having had no trouble with the glowtender.

Having not bothered to remove his hat when he’d stepped into the living cavern, Max pulls it a little further down over his eyes as he leads the way out into bright morning, heading toward the beast caverns. Hands set to pockets as he strolls along beside Kelarad, Max is either clearly at ease in his surroundings as well as with his present company, or he’s just that good at presenting such an image. Waine, follows along a step or two behind sending what looks to be a metalsmith a sharp nod of head, the man in turn changing his course of direction abruptly and moving toward the feeding pens.

With Crawl’s eyes narrowing at Max’s second, “Ned vanish around the same time Jaisynn did, actually,” he puts in for Max, speaking for Kelarad on that matter. “I was around, remember?” Kelarad rather addresses the matter of Indira. Brushing a finger against his own shirt collar, “She wanted names,” he says, with a significant glance going towards Waine. “I was under the impression from her that you two worked together.” And yeah, speaking of names, Waine’s return on Crawl’s own gets a small smirk from the crimelord and a sneer from the crimelord’s second. “You wouldn’t want to hear his real name,” Kelarad speaks before Crawl could counter, the smirk growing more prominent. “Grating on the ears. Crawl has … significant attachment to it.” What the reasoning is behind the name, he’s forgoing to say for now. Max’s question on their seconds and the insults being slung gets open laughter along with a look towards Crawl. “I hope such question means that you have a ring set up,” he notes, turning it on the new crimelord with a baring of his teeth. It was, after all, one of the main reasons why he was here. “And speaking of referees…” He turns abruptly towards the entrance to find Flack standing there, looking very much like a rock as Max leads them out of the living cavern. Flack says nothing, immediately falling into step alongside Kelarad with his unwavering gaze landing on the southern crimelord with little expression. He gives no sort of greeting, either. Crawl takes up the rear, the man looking pleased to find the former glowtender present. Clapping him on the back as they follow Max towards the beast caverns, “Thought this place swallowed you up for good,” he tosses his way, nodding. Flack shows a bare smile before answering in his gruff voice, “Never that.”

“Such concern for the man,” Max gives with a margin of amusement on the one formerly known as Ned, “I’m sure he’ll be touched to know he is remembered.” Dark eyes follow the Tillekian crimelord’s glance toward Waine and his jaw tightens a fraction when he reveals what it was that his mother had been after, “What else did she want?” On the matter of whether or not dam and offspring work together, he simply gives a curt nod in confirmation thereof. Catching the smirk coming from Kelarad on the matter of his second’s name, Waine once again bares teeth in a grin that he flashes over Crawl’s way, “That cause he’s still on his mama’s tit and ain’t learned to walk yet?” Yeah, poke the bear why don’t you? Nearing the entrance to the beast caverns, Max gives a shrug of shoulders on the matter of fighting rings, “Got a training ring set up, nothing official-like yet.” He seemingly unconcerned about his apparently slow progress in the matter, or so he would have Kelarad believe. Unsurprised when Flack falls into step with them, he simply sends the taciturn man a nod of acknowledgement and then he’s leading the way up the wide aisle of the caverns and in the direction of his personal quarters outside of which stands none other than one…Yaron aka Nedderon with arms folded across his barrel chest, hard gaze on the approaching party. Halting a moment outside of the door to his office, Max turns a faint smirk over to his Tillekian counterpart, “He ain’t gotten prettier in the past turn or so, so I trust that introductions are unnecessary?” To which Yaron utters a snort and gives an incline of head his former employer’s way, “Kelarad.” As to Crawl? He’s given a quick up and down but no verbal greeting.

Kelarad merely touches a smile to Max’s initial remark, but it’s the question as to Indira that gets his attention. “Wanted to know what kind of trouble you got yourself up to in my territory,” he answers easily enough, blue eyes regarding the other. “Sounds to me like you’ve been holding out on her.” Waine’s barb tossed back on Crawl’s name gets the second to tighten up his jaw and take a sharp step forward towards the man before the crimelord draws out a hand to stall him. Sending his second a hard look, “Always had a thing for talking too much, didn’t you,” Kelarad notes to Waine instead, trying to put an end to the toss of insults. He doesn’t challenge the answer given on having a ring set up either with Flack getting the brunt of his attention. “We must get some time to speak later,” he’s murmuring to the glowtender, in which the man merely nods. Once into the stables, Yaron is present and all three men stop in their tracks. Yeah, introductions definitely weren’t necessary. Being the first to step forward, “Ned,” he drawls his name in return, nodding his greeting as he looks him over. “It’s been a while. Had some new recruits come in that could have used your expertise, you know.” Crawl narrows his eyes at the man, not sending a greeting himself, but Flack does send Yaron a nod in greeting – the glowtender having been trained under the man back in Tillek before. Of course, the irony is not lost on Kelarad at finding two of his men now working and protecting the new crimelord that used to work for him as well. Taking a long look around the stables now, “Very unassuming place you’ve chosen for business,” he notes with faint amusement, meeting Max’s gaze. “Do you always conduct business here?”

Any irritation at his mother’s probing into his past is firmly tucked away with Max turning a light smirk onto Kelarad, “You tell your Ma ‘bout all the shit you get up to?” At about the same time the Tillekian lifts his hand to stall his second, so the Easterner narrows a look onto his, “Carry on like that, Chuckles, and I’ll be the one putting you on your ass, aye?” In response to which, Waine merely cocks a faintly challenging eyebrow his boss’s way but wisely holds his tongue for the time being. With Kelarad speaking of there having been new recruits, the instinct of a natural born trainer lights pale blue eyes and Yaron takes his time responding. When he does, the one side of his mouth creases in a light and slightly calculating smile, “Send ‘em down our way and I’ll train ‘em for you.” Faint emphasis put on the word ‘our’ as if to leave no doubt about his alliance these days. Flack however is afforded a dip of head in acknowledgement with Yaron instinctively running a critical eye over the man that had once been under his guidance, approval next to follow for what he finds. Max, having unlocked the door to his office and swung it open, pushes out of the lazy lean he’d taken to in the doorway, a crooked grin in place for his counterpart’s amusement, “No one thinks to question the movements of such a lowly position as beast manager or that of his hands. Animals…such unpredictable creatures, aye?” Smirk. And with that he gestures for Kelarad to precede him into his personal quarters, following behind him and leaving the small retinue of men they’ve gathered up between them to place themselves where they will within the area, with the supposed smithy (Boxtol) arriving from the direction of the feeding pens, to stand guard outside the door.

“On occasion,” Kelarad is blithe in answering on his mother, such matters inconsequential to a man of his station. “When she wasn’t dead.” Max’s warning to Waine gets a light smirk, but he delivers no such thing in Crawl’s direction. A look will suffice. Looking to Yaron now for his response, “And how would I know that you wouldn’t train them to be you and yours men?” he puts to the former trainer then, amused more than suspicious in his questioning. Crawl smirks a little at that, his own gaze scrutinizing Yaron from where he stands. As for Flack, he has nothing to say. He watches his former trainer with interest and respect, though he still remains firmly on Kelarad’s side. Of course, Kelarad misses none of this silent exchange. “I was expecting to see at least the glimmers of a good fighting circuit down here when I arrived,” the crimelord casually notes, stepping into the office, Crawl stepping in to guard his back. Settling into one of the seats now, “Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time tending to runners and trying to appear the lowly beast manager to these overgrown fireliazard riders, hm?” Eyes take in his new surroundings expertly, lastly coming to rest on Max. Leaning back, “I suppose you’ll proceed to detail to me the importance of renegade – dragonrider relations?” he drawls settling down a little to business. He still considers it plenty of time to poke at the new crimelord and his environment of choice a bit. “Being here, pandering to their every stable whim? Unless you’re smartly using the Dicori for smuggling purposes here.” That would be the only reason, to him, that a crimelord would bother living so closely with the enemy, as it were. And, speaking of the Dicori, Kelarad then straightens up and takes a look about them before adding in, “Where is Jaya, anyway? I thought she was part of your business? Unless she got caught up with my guest?”

No emotion shows at Kelarad’s revelation of his mother being dead, simply a small incline of head given in acknowledgement thereof with Max then removing his hat and setting it to one of the pegs on the stall siding inside his office. The amused query over turning his men draws a rarely seen wolfish grin from Yaron in response to his former employer, “You don’t.” And then at a nod from the beast manager adds, “The circuits are setting up at Landing, Southern Hold and around a day’s ride from the Weyr.” – “‘Splainin’ on the way of things these days is cutting more into my set up time than I’d like,” Max gives in brief explanation with the faintest grimace of discomfort as he lowers himself into his seating after Kelarad has taken his up. Waine having taken up a stance near the doorway gives an amused grunt of sound but says little else, gaze firmly set onto Crawl. Reaching for the bottle of whiskey and two glasses already set out on his desk (apparently the seconds aren’t drinking) Southern’s crimelord proceeds to fill them. Pushing one the other young crimelord’s way he utters a snort, as he leans back in his seating, “They’re convenient transport and provide intel quicker’n I have patience to get the usual way. Not to mention good back up if needed.” Deliberately downplaying the connection between renegades and dragonriders.

Dark eyes cast about his quarters as Kelarad affords them closer inspection and then settle onto the Tillekian with a light smirk playing from behind his upturned glass not in the least bit put out by the attempt to poke fun at his chosen place of residence and business. Exhaling through the slight burn, that smirk lingers and takes on darker edges to it, “That eejit Jinnet and his mate Passan sure as shit didn’t expect to find me here.” Conveniently not answering to charges of smuggling for that would be more his mother and Jaya’s gig. As to Jaya low laughter lifts up and he gives a nonchalant shrug of shoulders, “Tendin’ her bar I would think. You know how the woman is. Does as she pleases half the time and spends the other half bein’ a very, bad, girl.” The amused approval thereof perhaps making it seem like he and the Bitran have something going on but really is meant to point more to the nature of work she does for and with him. Work he glosses over expanding on just yet. And then a brow lifts, “Your…guest?” dark eyes narrow and he leans forward a little, “Please tell me you didn’t bring that sister of hers with you!” For in his opinion it was simply too soon for another encounter of the Beddie kind.

Yaron’s answer appears expected since Kelarad doesn’t contest it, but his amusement lingers on in his silence on the matter. Turning to Max and his response on the fighting circuits, “If I had further time, I would have loved to have seen them all myself,” he notes with an incline of his head. “Crawl and I have been looking at the, ahhh, viability of having a circuit ran down here. Something I’ve had Flack look into, in fact,” and at that, Flack nods once in confirmation. “But since you claim the south…” Kelarad continues on to say, the smile touching his lips now with a slight shrug. Blue eyes fall on the glasses and the whiskey, the crimelord appearing grateful that there is drink to be had after all. Once a filled glass is sent his way, he reaches to take it up with a nod in thanks before tasting. He notes the deliberate downplay of the connection between dragonriders and renegades with a look. “I carry a few of them myself,” he drops, the smile exaggerated as he sets the glass down. Yeah, dragonriders are being treated like runners, here. “It does make transport rather convenient. The Reaches make rather hardy men.” When Jinnet and Passan are mentioned though, both Kelarad and Crawl exchange glances. Yeah, they knew about that. “How fortunate you were then,” he states, brows lifting as he goes for his glass. “What indeed is the world coming to when even the mere stable of dragonriders cause room for violation?” Right, like he wouldn’t have done such to further an end. “Speaking of Vaputero,” he segues into his next, leaning forward a bit with his drink to pin a long look onto the other crimelord. “The matter of my cousin?” Hearing that Jaya was tending her bar doesn’t surprise him, along with her being a very bad girl. Smirking a bit, “If she’s too bad, you could always send her my way,” he drawls, his interest in the Dicori woman always evident. “I also appreciate the work she did for me a while back, too. Paying debt to me, and all. I was thinking,” and he looks briefly to Crawl then, “that we could perhaps make another arrangement.” When Max’s brow lifts though on talk of his guest, Kelarad doesn’t reveal right away. Addressing the last instead with interest, “Her sister?” he echoes. “That suggests you have met her before.” He’s probing on this matter his interest along with Flack’s evidently present.

Dark eyes narrow slightly at Kelarad’s confession to having had Flack look into opening a fight circuit on the southern continent and while the beast manager delivers an incline of head in response to the acknowledgement given to his claim and right to do so himself, one can be sure he’ll be keeping a tighter eye on things should the Tillekian decide to go ahead with his plans. Lifting his glass, Max gives silent toast to the Reaches breeding hardy men, a smirk playing about his features. He gives no further verbal comment on the matter of Jinnet and Passan, merely a rough snort and then fits a closed look onto Kelarad when he brings his cousin up. “I’m going to assume that Flack here,” glass tilted the glowtender’s way, “Has informed you of the situation. In fact, I’d imagine that’s why you’re here, hmm?” He being under no illusion that this was a visit of goodwill. Swallowing down a healthy mouthful of his drink, a chuckle lifts up, “Nice try, Tillek.” That to his comment of sending Jaya his way. Interest colours the easterner’s expression, “Another arrangement, hmm?” another sip of whiskey and then he’s nodding slowly, “such as?” As to Jaya’s sister, Waine is unable to contain the guffaw that breaks free and looks set to make comment when his boss sends him a narrowed look of warning. Back to Kelarad, Max puts forth a wry expression, “Oh aye, I’ve met her alright. She’s…quite an experience.” Trying for diplomatic there much?

“He’s informed me enough,” Kelarad confirms with a nod on the matter of his cousin, his gaze lingering on the crimelord. “I was under the impression that such … matters,” he puts quite delicately, “would have been taken care of – or at least, I would have been informed officially. I suppose there’s a reason behind the delay?” Yes, he’s going to call it a ‘delay’. Leaning back more once he lets his drink settle on the desk, “Your mother was gracious enough to set up a meeting with her as soon as tomorrow,” he tacks on then, matter-of-factly. Of course, Max wasn’t going to let the Bitran barkeep go all that easily, either. With an acknowledging shrug on the arrangement spoken of, “I need someone … moved.” Blue eyes flick over to Crawl knowingly, and the second shows a small smirk. “Dicori’s versed in such matters, right?” Smuggling people next to items, that is. When Waine guffaws, both Tillekian men dart looks his way. Catching that narrow-eyed look of warning, “You’ve met Bhedri Dicori, hm?” he muses, idly brushing fingers across his chin. “Never had the pleasure of meeting her myself, but then, I don’t make a habit of entering Bitra unless to cause some sort of trouble.” Right, because Vaputero finding the crimelord there would definitely cause some sort of ruckus. Eyes on Waine, “I imagine you’ve met her, too?” he asks then to Max’s second, curious and welcoming him to speak.

And there it is, just exactly what Max had been expecting. Lips purse and he throws the rest of the contents of his glass down his throat, exhaling lustily through the afterburn while both Waine and Yaron tense slightly as if expecting trouble. Stroking a finger across his stubbled chin, southern’s crimelord finally speaks, dark eyed gaze set intently onto Kelarad, “I offered your cousin free refuge, somewhere safe to stay while she…recovered. This additional…matter,” using the Tillekian’s own phrasing, “was out of my hands the moment she decided to keep it. I ain’t about to go trussing a woman up and throwing her over a dragon to force her to do something against her will.” A few moments of silence are allowed to linger before he puts forth pointedly, “I ain’t Vaputero.” Who had forced himself and his will upon the young woman under discussion. “She took the decision for herself. The responsibility to tell you was therefore hers, not mine, my mother’s or Ahnika’s.” Max’s tone carefully modulated throughout and then he leans forward a little, “This new development however puts me and mine at risk. That son of a bitch will find out. And that ain’t no maybe. I got eyes and ears up in Bitra keeping a watch on his movements.” Pausing the faint line of a cold smile traces out, relish for the challenge and opportunity flaring in dark eyes, “But I ain’t about to turn tail on our deal either. In fact, I’m rather hoping the bastard is just stupid enough to come sniffing around down here and step onto my turf.” So…Max is looking to use Olira’s pregnancy as bait to draw the Bitran crimelord out and into the open? Quite possibly. As to the matter of Bhedri Dicori, a smirk lights the easterner’s expression and he twists that too to his own advantage, “I don’t go to Bitra, mate. I make Bitra come to me.” Delivered with a slightly cocky air to the words. “In the flesh,” Waine snickers as he answers to whether or not his boss had met the Dicori twin. As to whether he himself had met her or not, a wolfish grin appears, “Sure as shells crack dragons, if she’d shown up in my quarters as naked as the day she birthed, I sure as shit wouldna tossed her out on her ass.” Blue eyed gaze pinning deliberately to his boss as he gives that little snippet of information away with deliberate intent and high humour at play. So no, he’d not had the personal pleasure of making Beddie’s acquaintance. Discomfort at the memory dredged up by his blockhead of a second, sets a muscle to ticking in Max’s jaw and he intentionally steers the conversation back to the matter of further business between himself and Kelarad, “What’s in it for us?” The sweetness of the deal obviously to be weighted against the risks involved.

Watching Max down that glass of whiskey, along with Crawl and Flack visibly tensing when he eyes Waine and Yaron with a hardened look, “I put her in your hands,” Kelarad reiterates, not moving from his position. Blue eyes flick to Waine, then Yaron. “A word, regardless, would have been appropriate at least. Her pregnancy is unfortunate, of course,” he goes on to say conversationally, his glance now on a jaw-tightening Crawl, “but if I place a relative of mine into someone’s care, a note via firelizard on something … major, happening, would have been expected. Regardless.” What he thinks of Olira, or any woman, telling him the matter seems inconsequential to him. Max mentioning the new risk, however, gets a blithe “Vaputero already knows. He does have people here, like I do,” with a pointed look towards Flack. “What plans he has in effect has probably already started for all you know. Until you find out who it is that is working for him,” and a shrug will suffice for the rest of that. “As for him coming down,” and a look is dropped on Max then, “Vaput’s not stupid. Why risk his own ass when he has others to do it for him? I’m sure Jinnet and Passan is still fresh in your minds, hmmm?” Pause. “But if you plan to use my relative to start some conflict down here,” he adds, the small smirk evident, “then I will have no choice but then drop a few of my men here for … back-up.” On the matter of Jaya’s sister, Waine’s answers gets an easy laugh from the man. Crawl snorts, however. “I hear she’s a good fuck,” Kelarad puts aloud in amusement to that. “Apparently you don’t take care of your guests properly down here in the south. Remind me to let Jaya know before I depart that Bhedri would be fully treated with the hospitality of Tillek should she come into my territory,” he makes a show of dictating to his second, and the man sends Waine a smirk. Back to the matter of business then, the question was expected since his immediate answer was a wry “Payment, of course, along with one of your men to partake in the first fight in the circuits. I have a big event planned soon – one that will reap a lot of profits for all involved.” Beat. “If you’re interested.” – “Especially since your own circuits are … still under construction,” Crawl tacks on, a smarmy smile in place.

As Kelarad’s expression hardens, so does Max’s all that breaks free is a brow that lifts upwards for the apparent ‘dressing down’ sent his way for the manner in which he’d handled the delicate matter of Olira’s pregnancy, his expression remaining otherwise unreadable as he lets the man have his say, attention never straying. All of which leaves it hard to determine quite what the Easterner’s further thoughts are on the matter for he makes no comment on it, moving instead to the matter of the child’s sire. Leaving out most of what the Tillekian says next, he falls on the matter of Vaputero being stupid enough to show himself down south, “He ain’t that stupid, no. But he well might be arrogant and crazy enough to do so. Word has it the man’s become as unpredictable and out of control as a wher thrown into daylight.” On the matter of Jinnet and Passan, and their abortive attempt at trying to liberate his runner (let alone anything else) he simply utters a snort, “Please, spare me. Those two had about one braincell to share between ‘em and that was on a good day,” drawled in a deprecatory manner. That falls away to be replaced by his features hardening a touch and he leans further forward in his seating as if he might reach across and grab Kelarad by the throat and shake him. Instead, Max reaches for the whiskey bottle, pours another measure into his glass and then holds it out over his northern counterpart’s glass in offer of a refill, “I don’t hide behind women. Neither do I have need of using your cousin. I want a message sent to Vaputero, I’ll drop one of his own on his front doorstep.” Like he had done with the body in Nabol. But please…” settling back and taking up his glass a faint smile in place in now, “by all means, if it will help you to sleep at night, send more go of your men down. I’m sure Yaron will put them to good use.” Smiiirk. Oddly enough? There’s the faintest flicker of anger for the comment Kelarad makes on Jaya’s twin, but Max wisely keeps his tongue in his head and turns to the business at hand showing no trace of the insult delivered on Southern’s fight circuits, having hit home, though one can be sure he’s seething internally. A curt nod is given to their being payment and opportunity for one of his fighters to participate in the opening bouts of the next season. “Dead or alive?” he asks next of the person in need of being moved and then adds, “I agree to move ‘em, I expect full disclosure.”

Kelarad’s expression remains hard until his point is made, the man not offering further words on the matter since Max doesn’t. Addressing the matter of Vaputero, “Vaputero ain’t no wher,” he states, regarding the man before him. “Unpredictable is right, but he’s also a coward. Why do something when you can hire someone to do it for you?” That seems to be the renegade mantra of Pern, apparently. When Max looks very much put out by his comment of using his cousin as bait to lure the Bitran man, a small smirk touches lips. However, the return barb on sending men into southern gets a dry “Or I could just yank her back kicking and screaming to where she really belongs,” he tacks on with a sniff. Not that he really would. If Olira was going to keep the bastard child, best she gives birth down here out of his hair and let him worry about what to do about it later. Turning his head a fraction towards his second, “But I think Flack will suffice. I’ll have him keep a closer watch on Olira. That is, if Yaron doesn’t put him to good use,” he adds, the corner of his mouth tightly twitching when he settles his blue gaze onto the southern crimelord. Straightening then, “Speaking of good use, I suppose,” he drawls, reaching for his glass, “I suppose, having dropped such a lovely gift onto Severan’s doorstep, you will be making yourself known to the others.” Not a question. A statement. He dips fingers into his side pocket and pulls out a folded sheet of hide, lifting it in the air. “Serevan found it best to send out to the lot of us,” he notes with it, brows lifting. “I imagine Vaputero got a letter just like this one, which means he knows.” Leaning back with his drink, “What are you planning to do?” he asks now on the other crimelords, especially on the account of the Bitran. If he’s taken notes on whether his various barbs have hit their mark on Max, he’s not making comment. Switching to the topic of business then, he answers that question first with a growing smile before saying, “Alive.” He was willing to leave it at that – that is, until Max mentions full disclosure. With Kelarad and Crawl exchanging glances then, “We have important business in the Reaches,” Crawl explains, flicking his attention to Max from behind his boss. “We’re not exactly on good terms right now with Borrento, so we need to move someone … undetected,” he uses the words delicately, “into the Reachian territory.” – “Naturally using a dragonrider would have been easier,” Kelarad adds with a light, unconcerned shrug, “but the problem is, we really don’t know who’s in Borrento’s pocket there – especially in the Weyr. The man has deep pockets, you can imagine, with the type of business he runs.” Of course he would know. Kelarad has used Borrento’s service a time or two in the past.

Lips twist around a dark smirk when Vaputero is painted as being a coward, “You want something done right, you do it yourself.” Max counters with on the matter of getting things done and then a brow goes up at talk of Olira being dragged back against her will to Tillek, a challenging look going Kelarad’s way but nothing verbalised on the matter. The moment passes and a short chuckle spills out as the beast manager passes Flack a look, “Turns out he’s not too bad with a branding iron.” Touching on the type of additional cover work he’d put the man to and then adds, “Not too bad training new talent either.” Approval laced into his tone for the glowtender’s knack with new fighters. Yaron sending a firm nod of agreement on that topic too. He doesn’t however seem surprised to hear that Serevan had put the other crimelord’s in knowledge of the body having been sent by him, a faint smirk touching his mouth before he puts out almost nonchalantly, “I plan on paying each of them a visit, starting with Serevan. See firsthand what I’m dealing with.” He explains. And then he goes quiet, sipping on his drink as Kelarad gives brief outline of what he’s needing from his southern counterpart, his expression giving nothing away on what he might think of the clandestine operation involving High Reaches Weyr. Nodding slowly, Max sets his glass down with deliberate care and leaning forward clasps his hands together before him on the desk, “We’ll do it. But I don’t want compensation for the job…just yet. That’s a marker I might be needing to call on in the near future.” Realizing he might quite likely need the Tillekian’s help in the matter of retrieving his daughter as the time to do so is starting to loom large on the horizon.

“Now normally I would agree with that,” Kelarad answers on doing things yourself, taking a long drink. He doesn’t finish that sentence though, which probably means that it’s changed. He meets that challenging look Max sends his way on Olira’s account with no apology, nor does he speak further on it since it was already decided in his mind that she was staying – for now. When talk shifts to Flack, who is standing there with barely an expression in place either way, “I’m glad he’s been of additional use to you,” the crimelord notes, nodding towards Yaron for his nod of approval. “Admittedly, his presence is sorely missed up in Tillek, but we’ve been managing. I’ve even been toying with the idea,” and he shifts in his chair to include Flack in his view, “of sending some of my new recruits down here for him to train. Of course,” and at this, he turns his full gaze onto Max, “with your permission. I have some important fights planned with a few of the other renegade leaders looking to try their luck in the business. Naturally,” and hands spread wide with a growing smirk, “I can’t have their men, or anyone else, outshine mine in skill.” Clearly. When Max answers on Serevan and the others, speaking of, his expression doesn’t change. Yeah, he was expecting it. “You know what you’re dealing with,” he counters easily when the other mentions meeting with Serevan. “Serevan’s hard to get an audience with these days, but I think he would make an exception in your case with that stunt you pulled on his territory. Fuck knows, he’s probably expecting you already.” Leaning forward a bit, setting his drink down once he drains it, “Mind yourself when dealing with some of the others though,” he adds, his tone turning a tad more serious. “Vaputero’s a given, but those like Jorro and Mek can be volatile. In case you do meet the woman,” and there’s only one female crimelord on Pern. He pauses here, low laughter meeting that as he exchanges amused looks with his second. “Well. You think Jaya’s twin is a problem. Talia is quite worse.” Eyes flick to Waine then. “You might want to bring along ample … distraction, there,” he gives in amused advice, the significant look to Waine evident. And if Max doesn’t get it, he adds wryly, “Unless you’re offering such service.” Then he switches to the matter of his personal business, not seemingly surprised to hear Max’s answer and conditions. He takes his time in considering the condition, blue eyes lingering on the man until he finally inclines his head with light amusement touching his lips. Raising his glass to the man, “Then I guess that leaves me in your debt,” he states, agreeing.

Kelarad is put under long regard when he reveals his wish to send new recruits down Eastern way to be trained by Flack. “Send ‘em here, eh?” a grunt punctuating the rhetorical question and then one corner of Max’s mouth curls upward as he gives a slow nod of head, “Fair enough. On one condition, I get two entrants into these fights you got coming up and you allow my men to spend a month in Tillek beforehand.” For nothing is surer to put a good fighter off his stride, than not being able to acclimatise to the thinner air of the northern climes. Settling back in his chair a faint smile appears for starting his ‘Meet and Greet’ tour of his northern counterparts with Serevan, “Wisdom,” and respect, “dictates that one starts at the top and works their way down, aye?” Besides, he was hoping to be able to glean some information from the Nabolian man with regards to the other northerners he’d be meeting. The warning delivered on those such as Jorro and Mek taken as given and acknowledged with a short lift of glass. Waine of course, perks right up and gives a wide and somewhat eager grin in response to the pointed look sent him by Kelarad. He’d heard about talk about the Neratian crimelord and her…tastes. Max twists slightly in his seating glances at his second and then back to the man before him, high amusement evident, “Shall I giftwrap him too?” To which Yaron utters a rough snort that could be mistaken for a choked laugh. With his Tillekian counterpart agreeing to the deal set in place, the beast manager puts forward a tight smile, “Then we have an accord.” Meeting the other’s gaze easily, “What sort of timeframe did you have in mind?”

“Not surprised,” Kelarad answers on the added condition wryly when it comes to his sending new recruits down south. A brow lifting, “You have two entrants?” Crawl tacks on behind the man, his own tone dry enough to have the crimelord sending him a briefly admonishing look along with more gracious words, “I welcome any and all, of course. I have high hopes this series of fights will elevate my business to something beyond our borders.” The words were meant for his second, but his eyes never leave Max’s. To Max in particular then, with an incline of his head, “Two entrants, a month in Tillek prior. I’m assume you’re providing your own trainer for them,” and his gaze flicks over to Yaron then, “or do you trust mine enough not to sabotage them?” He is not timid when it comes to voicing such risks, and he even seems to be lightly amused by it. On the matter of him meeting the other crimelords up north, Max’s answers earn a wry “Indeed. Serevan was really the only one that could bring us all to common ground, back in the good days. Not sure he has much pull now, however.” Blue eyes find Waine then when he feels the man perk to his suggestion with the Neratian crimelord, and both crimelord and second draw deep smirks at that. “She’s never one for too much clothing,” Kelarad answers on giftwrap, though Crawl tacks on dryly behind him alongside Yaron’s snort, “Or clothing at all.” – “She usually likes to fuck before business,” Kelarad adds, his crooked smirk more prominent. “She’s rather quaint, really. Bit too lusty for me.” Switching to the topic of personal business, since they are of accord on terms, “As soon as you can move him,” he answers swiftly on time frames, shaking his head. “Got meetings there that need to be moved soon.”

It’s Waine that sends Crawl a death glare for his quip; Yaron’s visage…expressionless. As to Max? He doesn’t seem too fazed at all, if anything he’s amused. “If you have to ask then someone…” his gaze going to Kelarad rather than landing on either Crawl or Flack, “ain’t doing their job properly, hmm?” Suggestion made that perhaps his circuits, while not yet officially open, are a whole lot further along than the Tillekians are currently being led to believe at this time. That amusement lingers and a brow goes up as Max gives a small incline of head, “Yaron has…other work to do. I’ll be accompanying my men and keeping up with their training.” Thus placing him exactly where he needs to be in order to carry out his personal business in Tillek. A light frown appears as Southern’s crimelord gives pause for thought on the matter of Serevan perhaps not having the same pull amongst the northerners as he once used to. Breaking silence with a rub of fingers across his chin, “What changed?” On the matter of Ritalia, rather than his enthusiasm being dampened, Waine’s grin simply widens, “Now that’s what I call a raise.” Ah, the things one must do for one’s boss, eh? Sly amusement trickles into Max’s expression for Kelarad deeming the woman too lusty for his tastes, and he comments dryly, “Were it a turn back I mighta been tempted to test your assessment out for myself.” Taking up the whiskey bottle up and holding it out over the dirty blonde man’s glass in offer of a refill, the beast manager gives a brief nod of head, “Where is he now?”

Crawl was easy to return Waine’s glare, no words coming to the fore as Kelarad merely snorts to Max’s counter on his first. It’s the next that gets his attention, however. He leans forward with slight interest, brows furrowing as he puts in, “You’ll be in my territory for a month? Away from here?” He wanted to make sure he was hearing right, with Crawl frowning heavily at the idea. On the matter of Serevan, and the pull he was losing, the crimelord is easy to shrug to that answer back with a blithe “What’s changed? He’s up in age, for one. No one knows whether he has someone taking over for him when the time comes or not. Not to mention, you got men like Vaput and Mek starting to make their own waves rather than following the rest of ours. Serevan thinks he can still control them. In fact,” and he taps the folded sheet against the table, “he’s having talks in Bitra with the man as we speak.” Turning to the more amusing matter of Nerat’s sultry, female crimelord, Waine’s enthusiasm was taken up by the men on Kelarad’s side. Chuckling low to himself on Max’s response, “Yes, that’s right,” he drawls, leaning forward to offer his glass for a refill. “You and … that weyrling that’s been hanging around my cousin, correct?” Blue eyes shoot towards Flack only briefly. Shaking his head then, “I don’t envy you, Max,” he tells him, the crooked smirk more prominent. “You’re going to find being tied down to be difficult with this sort of business. She knows what you do?” To the last then, only brief in the pause, Kelarad merely answers that with “Tillek, of course.”

“On and off,” Max gives with a nonchalant roll of shoulders to spending a month in Tillek, “Ain’t gonna poach your territory, if that’s what you’re worrying on,” he gives next with a slightly sardonic air. “Indira, Jaya and Yaron, will be here,” he then utters with a pointed look. And pity the man (or woman) who thinks to cross swords with Eastern’s Headwoman and barkeep. It’s now his turn to frown as Kelarad explains his reasoning behind Serevan starting to lose his grip of control over the northern crimelords, “That…ain’t good.” No kidding. “Might take the rest of you,” himself excluded apparently, “to pull the two of ‘em into line. ‘Specially if those talks of Serevan’s end up holding no water with the Bitran.” Curiosity had followed the tap to that folded sheet, Max clearly interested to know what the Nabolian had seen fit to send out to the brotherhood of renegade crimelords but he averts his gaze and instead turns to filling the glass held out to him and then his own. A faint smirk greets that of his counterpart’s for the comment over his relationship with Ahnika, unsurprised that he was in knowledge thereof, “Aye, she knows.” A sip from his refilled glass and then studying the amber liquid, he adds with a flick of eyes Kelarad’s way, “She’s already proving herself to be an asset.” On the business at hand, he gives a short nod, “I’ll have Indira and Jaya put something together and get word to you within the next two sevens.” Of course, he has no idea how the two are likely to work together (or not as the case maybe), but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

Kelarad regards that easy-looking roll of shoulders with a raised brow, and Max’s further words on the matter gets a wry “If I was worried about that, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” Sardonic smile to match the words, and hearing that Jaya, Indira and Yaron would take over in his absence only receives a slight now in acknowledgement. “The south is in good hands then,” is all he says pointedly to that, though one never really knows what the Tillekian crimelord is thinking. On the talk of Serevan, with Max catching on to the direness of the situation, the man sniffs at the thought of pulling Timekis and Vaputero in line. “If they aren’t listening to Serevan, what makes you think they’ll give a rat’s ass about what we have to say?” he puts forth bluntly. “Shy of killing them, that is. Serevan’s trying real hard not to let it get to that since he’s of the opinion that those can still change. He doesn’t believe like those of us that … perhaps them vanishing would be best for all.” He doesn’t even bother putting that delicately, either. Running a hand over his short hair, “He already knows what I think, and I can pull some of the others to my side. Serevan’s wasting his time if he thinks those two will listen to any kind of reason.” Once his glass is refilled, he raises it to the man in thanks before taking a long drink from it and chuckling low on the topic of the green weyrling. Snorting lightly, “An asset,” he repeats that one, not sure if he shares the same sentiment. “Weyrlings are hardly useful until they can get out of the Weyr. I fail to see where her assets lie. But then,” and he spreads hands free of himself, “I am not here on a daily basis.” He gives a small smirk to that, and then with an incline of his head on the matter of concluding personal business, “I assume Dicori will be the one smuggling this man, correct?” he puts forth then once Jaya is brought up. “Unless you have someone else in your entourage more suitable?” – “Hopefully someone that doesn’t cause trouble in our territory,” Crawl puts in dry behind him. “Nor, gets caught in Borrento’s. It would be … unfortunate, for all involved.”

To Kelarad’s response Max gives a small incline of head with an expression that reads ‘touché’ and then a faint smile appears for his deeming southern to be in good hands with the two women and Yaron left in charge. On to the more serious topic of the two renegades that are working against the grain with a smile that is cunning in its presentation, “They ain’t gonna see reason. You lean on ‘em. Make ‘em feel it. Start making their lives difficult and running their businesses impossible until they see the light and come to their senses. Ain’t no point to being lord of all you survey with no marks in your pocket and your brothers sealing their borders and overturning contracts of business to put a man to rethinking his position, aye? But it’s gotta be with unanimous agreement from the rest of you or it ain’t gonna work.” That’s his two marks worth on the matter. Simply slitting the throats of the troublemakers, not being his style, the chances being good this is something the young southern crimelord is likely to bring up in discussion with Serevan. The snort delivered over Ahnika being an asset is met with a smirk rather than annoyance, Max happy to keep the green pairs’ talents for strategy hidden for as long as possible. And so he says nothing merely lifting his glass once again to his lips. For some or other reason, its Crawl’s comment to trouble being caused in their territory that draws a short laugh from Max, “Depends on your definition of trouble.” That grin just a little too wide to be free of guile. “Dicori will pull him out of Tillek,” as there’s no chance he’s letting his mother anywhere near close enough to his daughter to cause trouble, “and Indira will settle him up Reaches way. She’s been operating in the territory longer than you and I been alive.” As to the Headwoman getting caught by Borrento there’s a moment of silence and then he utters a dry laugh, “He ain’t caught her yet.” Which might make it hard to determine quite what the older blonde’s dealings with the Reachian mob may or may not have been in the past.

“That’s what Harvis suggested,” Kelarad muses slowly when Max offers his take on the serious situation with Vaputero and Timekis. “He’s another man like Serevan, only … much younger. He always goes for the more diplomatic approach,” which suggests that he and the rest of the renegades don’t. On the matter of trouble, Crawl answers instead of Kelarad. “That being, making our lives,” particularly his, “difficult.” The crimelord rumbles out a chuckle to that one, passing his second a look along with a wry “Now, now. We must treat our guests,” and blue eyes seek out Max and his second at this moment, “as they have treated us on our stay here. Respect and tolerance,” and at the last, a look is given to his second. Both men then nod in unison on Jaya being the one to pull the man out of Tillek, both being of agreement. Kelarad pauses on the matter of his mother, however, but he doesn’t contest it too much. Taking a long drink, “Rather risky either way,” he notes blithely as he sets his glass down. “Putting your mother in his territory. The destination is particularly close to his hunting grounds,” he seems to add in warning, though the man looks more amused than anything. His mother would have died over early if he had came to her with such a task. To the last on Indira not being caught yet, “Then perhaps she’s lucky she’s not on any lists, then,” Crawl puts in for an answers, his twitchy smile crisp.

A brow goes up upon hearing that Harvis seemed to be a younger version of the Nabolian peace keeper, “A potential replacement for Serevan?” Max then utters a short chuff of sound in wry amusement for Kelarad and the others not being of a similar mindset but sets his response instead to the matter of his people keeping the peace during their sojourn into Tillek. Dark eyes follow the looks between crimelord and second and then settle back onto the man opposite him a faint smirk tracing out, “I’m sure Jaya will appreciate the gesture. As will I.” Not about to mention that the Bitran barkeep is likely to have her bodyguard along with her when she enters Tillekian territory. On the matter of his mother’s involvement at the other end of the extrication and resettlement, a wry laugh is delivered, “Indira’s been working his hunting grounds for decades. I’m quite sure she can handle herself,” pausing to take a swallow of his drink, Max then adds with dark humour in place on his mother being on lists, “Wouldn’t surprise me if she and Borrento had some kind of deal in place.” Of course he has no idea whether or not such a deal exists or might still be in effect but he does know his dam well enough to realize she’s more cunning than a feline looking to pluck wherries from a nest.

Shaking his head, “Don’t he wish,” Kelarad almost chortles at that thought before he waves his hand in dismissal of it. “Harvis has his own territory in Ista, but Serevan has the superior network that he wants. Naw, likely Serevan will find some nobody to replace him. Smart thing and all.” On the matter of Jaya, Crawl is the one to speak up instead of the crimelord there. With a gesture of his chin towards the door, “Why she’s still being babysat? Surely this place is tight enough that Vaputero coming after her is practically a memory.” Both men noticed the tall, teak-skinned man hovering about the woman as being the same man that showed up at the Blood and Bucket meeting. Admittedly the man’s presence unnerves them both. When talk turns to Indira, and of potential deals in place, “Something tells me the woman probably does,” Kelarad murmurs, amusement shown on his face as he goes to drain half his glass. “Crafty sounds about right.” Beat “So!” and he leans back with his drink, looking about the place with curiosity. “I was hoping to get some sort of tour of this place in the eyes of my dear budding ally,” and he looks to Max then. “You stick to the stables here? Operate in Landing? Or is this small room the extent of your business?”

Max gives a slow nod of head to what gets said concerning Harvis and Serevan, it plain to see that the matter of the Nabolian’s successor intrigues him. When Crawl speaks up, dark eyes follow his thrust of chin and an amused expression shows itself, “Jaya and Shijan,” deliberately foregoing the use of the word ‘bodyguard, “work together these days. You want one, you get the other thrown in too.” Thus making it clear that both the former Bitran barkeep and her shadow will be turning up in Tillek to move Kelarad’s man. A brow lifts slightly for the Tillekian’s response on his mother and her ways and then open amusement produces a chuckle for the man’s last. Draining his glass of its contents and setting it down with a light thud to the desk, Max sets hands to the arms of the chair as if about to rise and indulge Kelarad with a tour, “Here, Landing, Southern Hold and Weyr…wherever business takes me.” That given with a faintly challenging smirk attached.

It was definitely obvious to both men that such topic such as the Nabol crimelord’s successor was of interest to Max. A smile touching lips at the look, “Perhaps it will be something you and him could discuss, when you go to meet him,” he offers on Serevan in slight amusement. The matter of Shijan, and Max’s answer to it, definitely draws interest for both. Kelarad’s eyes narrow slightly at hearing that the Dicori woman has a partner now. “Was her style to work alone,” he notes idly, wondering at such a change. “Can she at least go piss without him?” Not that he’s contesting Shijan being with her, although the matter of her no longer working alone was of particular interest to him. When Max drains his glass of the drink, the crimelord of Tillek does likewise and also makes as if to rise with him. “I trust lassoing the continent to your bidding hasn’t proved too … onerous a task?” he asks at that challenging smirk, his own still lingering. “I was hoping to see Landing on this trip, but, with me meeting with my cousin tomorrow, I suppose such things will have to be put on hold for another time.” That pretty much means that he’ll be back, but one can be sure that all those in the room would have guessed that anyway. “Shall we?”

Max gives a faint smile and short incline of head to the idea of discussing such matters with Serevan when they meet but puts words and amusement to the matter of Jaya and her new partner. “’Fraid you’re gonna have to take that up with Dicori herself, that is if she’s not taking a piss,” smirk. Standing and moving to take his hat up off of the peg where he’d hung it upon their arrival, Southern’s crimelord turns a dark chuckle out for talk of his progress in wrangling the continent to his bidding, “A lasso, bullwhip and branding iron will turn even the most stubborn bullock to face in the right direction, aye?” Let’s hope he’s speaking metaphorically there, then again, considering the stunt he’d pulled with that body, maybe not. Hat firmly clamped on his head, Max steps back and gestures that Kelarad and his men should precede him and his with the rest of the morning spent guiding the Tillekians about the Weyr with conversation kept light and inconsequential for the most part.

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