Participants:
Vaputero and Faust (NPC'd by Jaya)
| Date: | June 8, 2011 |
|---|---|
| Location: | Weyr Tunnel and "Guest" Quarters, EW |
| Synopsis: | Bitran renegade crimelord, Vaputero, shows up at Eastern Weyr and is in for a surprise. Max greets and welcomes him like any 'host' would. |
| Rating: | PG-18 for strong language. |
| Logger: | Jaya |
It was late at night by the time Vaputero Ilste and his second-in-command showed up before Eastern Weyr on runners. Lorayit had gone on ahead after they all dealt with some business around Landing, the Weyr gardener wanting to distance himself from the Bitran crimelord as much as possible. Vaput wasn't all too happy about that, having expected the man to guide them into the Weyr without detection. Since that was not to be, and the big Bitran didn't really balk from anyone - especially from a bunch of overstuffed firelizard riders - the man and Faust dismounted from their runners and paused before the tunnel leading into the Weyr.
"Awfully quiet for a Weyr," Faust makes comment, the burly mountain-looking man idly sucking on a reed hanging from his mouth as he studies their surroundings. "That damn Lorayit oughta have taken us in, the pissant!" and he spits on the ground. Vaputero merely snorts his agreement, taking his runner by the reins and starts to lead them towards the dark, foreboding tunner. "Come on. Might be there's a drunk wench lying about, willing to show us some good southern hospitality." Faust had to keep from guffawing from that.
While his information network is still in relative infancy compared to those of Harvis and Serevan especially given the size of the continent Max tries to keep a handle on, he was at least afforded enough of a heads up to know that the Bitran was on his way to the Weyr proper. So it is that southern’s crimelord along with his second and several of his ‘stablehands’ are waiting concealed both in the dark shadows of the tunnel and just outside of the Weyr’s entrance.
Awfully quiet for a Weyr. Indeed so. Max had done his best to see to that. The exchange heard between Vaputero and his second as they approach draws a dark unseen smirk to twist about the southern crimelord’s mouth though he makes no move to show himself just yet, waiting until the Bitran pair are fully into the tunnel before doing so.
Once they are, the men hidden just outside of the Weyr’s entrance step out, forming a silent barricade behind Vaputero and Faust. And ahead, just short of the end of the tunnel that leads into the bowl, a solitary figure of tall, wiry build steps into sight, silhouetted by what light is cast by Timor and Belior at his back, the front of him cast in deep shadow leaving no indication as to who it might be.
The closer they get towards the tunnel, the more nervous their mounts got. “Something’s out there,” Faust makes the unnecessary observation, trying to calm his runner who as jerking on the reins he holds. Once fully in the tunnel, the shadows moved. Vaputero caught it first, the man tightening his hold on his runner’s reins while his other hand reaches for the concealed knife at his side. “What the-?” He and his second turn to find the way they had come blocked, and when they turns back around, they find themselves faced with a single on in shadow. The towering height of Vaputero has the big Bitran stepping forward boldly, dropping with enough coldness brought from Bitra, “Unless you’re here to take our bags to a room, get out of my way.” Faust, recovering his shock, now flanks his boss and visibly reaches for the knife at his side as well with narrowed eyes.
Silence prevails for a heartbeat or two after Vaputero’s cold demand and then a low laugh from the man up at the end of the tunnel breaks it, followed by a lazily drawled, “The man here is lookin’ for a drudge, any volunteers?” A couple of rough laughs echo about the tunnel from those still concealed by its shadows and then a much bigger and broader silhouette steps up to the side of the first, “Dunno ‘bout the bags boss but there’s a room aaall ready and waiting for them.” Despite the string of amusement across the second speaker’s tone, the words hold an almost sinister edge to their delivery.
Another moment or two of silence and then the first of the two speaks again, dry amusement in his tone when Faust goes for his knife. “I wouldn’t,” he cautions and those that had been keeping to the shadows along the length of the tunnel step forward and show themselves in what dim light there is. Only then does the man who had first appeared in the Bitrans’ path start to move forward leaving his companion in place up at the bowl end of the tunnel, revealing his face as he draws closer. Halting, a faint wash of amusement crosses the southern crimelords face as he gives the Bitran crimelord the once over. “Vaputero,” Max drawls the name out, “At last, we meet.”
Silence meets the unexpected laughter buffeting around them with the Bitran men exchanging dark looks. Grumbling low enough for only his boss to hear, “That gardener betrayed us!” to which Vaputero rumbles back stiffly, “He wouldn’t dare.” He wasn’t liking the words being bandied about them among the surrounding men. Somehow he had the feeling that whatever this ‘room’ was, it wasn’t going to exude southern hospitality. The caution has Faust slowing his hand on his knife, But Vaputero doesn’t release his. To the one that cautions, “What cowardness is this? To accost men in the shadows like a bunch of old women?” – “I know he has!” Faust continues to hiss towards the big Bitran, sending dark looks toward the men as they slowly reveal themselves to the light. Vaput has eyes, for the most part, on the one shadow that stands alone, already sniffing out that he must be the leader of this band of shadows. It’s to him that he gestures Faust’s attention towards with his chin, and the young southern crimelord reveals himself to the light for them. To those words, the Bitran crimelord flicks dark study over the brazen man, his words getting a cool, “Didn’t realize I had a meeting with south’s new usurper. Hiding behind anonymity? Dropping dead bodies without showing yourself? You must be the Max I’ve been hearing about.” Faust looks almost taken aback by this, taking a step back so that he could get a long, proper look at the new crimelord along with a softly spoken curse under his breath.
Unseen dark eyes narrow when he hears Lorayit being accused of having turned on the Bitran. Max puts no comment to the accusations however. While Vaputero and Faust’s hands hover at their knives, those that surround them simply regard them in tight-lipped silence with arms folded across their chests. Steps slow to an almost lazy strolling pace as the southern crimelord closes the distance, his low spoken words echoing off the rock of the tunnel, “Cowardice?” Trust him to pick up on that word and another low laugh drops free as he gives display of shaking his head in amusement, “Naw. Call this the escort of welcome and safety for an honoured guest.” The tone of voice and entirely unreadable expression he employs perhaps making it hard to tell if he intends insult or not.
As Vaputero looks him over, so Max simply stands there, hands in pockets as if he has narry a care in the world and then one corner of his mouth tips upward and a hand comes free extending toward the Bitran in what appears to be friendly greeting when his name and actions are spoken, “The very same. Welcome to Southern.” Sounding one hundred percent sincere except maybe to Waine who knows just how much such a display is costing his boss. Faust’s soft curse draws a dryly amused look his way and then his dark regard goes back to the big Bitran crimelord. “Waine ain’t kiddin’. We’ve been expectin’ you, if you’ll give your runners over to Wallyce here,” a sharp-faced man steps forward, “he’ll take care of ‘em we can get yourselves situated.” Quite the host isn’t he? Mmhm.
When Max closes the distance, Vaputero’s eyes narrow even more as he pulls himself up to his full, imposing height. “Safety?” Trust him to pick up that word. “Are you suggesting I should be fearing for my life?” he drops with heavy sarcasm. “Perhaps he means that he’s fearing for his,” there’s Faust, dropping his taunts now that he has composed himself properly. “Why else would he and his friends lie in wake?” But then, Max’s extending a hand and the big Bitran hesitates briefly before reaching forward and engulfing it with his. His grip is heavy and firm along with his black gaze, nothing showing in his demeanor as he gets welcomed to the continent. “Just as well we ran into you,” he states then crisply, making it sound like so rather than having just been ambushed. “You and I have business,” but clearly, it could wait – especially they were expected already. Faust bristles visibly when Max suggests they pass over their reins to one of the men, the mountain-like second stepping back and tightening his hold on his runner. To Vaput, “Yeah, they’ll take care of’em, alright,” he grumbles loudly, frowning. “Likely cut’em lose and leave us fuckin’ stranded in this damn Weyr! Fuck this, we can fight our way out!” Vaputero says nothing, his eyes remaining on Max, but neither is he passing anything over just yet either.
“The likes of us are hardly innocent harper boys,” Max points out with sardonic humour attached for the apparent safety precautions he’d put in place, Faust’s little gibe ignored save for the flicker of dark eyes his way. It’s only now that Waine ambles up to join his boss, an amiable smile in place that doesn’t quite reach implacable blue eyes as he sizes the Bitran second up. Giving Vaputero’s hand a solid shake, Max drops his away and slips it back into his pocket as his mouth twists about a smile when the Bitran brings up business, “All in good time.”
Some of his patience starts to slip when Faust questions the safety of their runners. “There ain’t no better hands to put your runners in than his,” a nod to Wallyce, “the offer is there. Take it or leave out but don’t come cryin’ to me when a dragon finds ‘em fine eatin’.” Pointed reminder given on the proclivities of hungry dragons. Fighting words coming from the Bitran second causes a ripple of movement from the men surrounding them as arms unfold and their hands drop to their knives. “Steady boys,” Max calls out low to his men, eyes never leaving Vaputero as Waine stiffens at his side.
“Guess we’ll be looking for proof of that from those living under the home of dragons,” Faust answers that coldly, pumping up his chest as if he was about to launch. Vaputero’s eyes fall on Waine when he comes up then, and Faust – seeing him for the position he is – gives him the brunt of his glares. The big Bitran merely cracks a cold smile to business being done in due time, but Max’s other words on their runners get the man to move. He steps forward, handing over his runner’s reins to the one called Wallyce along with words to his second, “Leave it, Faust. If our host wants to dance,” and he flicks a look towards Max, “then these runners won’t be much help. Besides, I hear the former beast manager here has plenty of runners for us to look at.” Perhaps that was alluding to all the issues involving Passan and Jinnet, but the man’s already moving on. Faust is slow to hand over his reins, not trusting these men one bit and is letting them know of it. He sticks close to his boss’s side, hand lingering on his knife now as Max calls his men to calm. Cold laughter greets those words from Vaput as the big Bitran states, “We must be popular to garner such hatred, ehh, Faust?” Faust, for an answer, spits on the ground before him. “Reckon we’ll be fightin’ before it’s time to get back, boss. I don’t like the look of a few of’em.” – “You said you had a room for us,” Vaput calls out then, to which his second mutters, “Likely on a fuckin’ ledge of some dragonrider.”
Faust’s words have Waine eyeballing him, jaw setting to a tight line, like one herdbeast bull staring down another. All they’re missing is the pawing of the ground and snorting that would go along with it. As Vaputero steps forward with his set of reins and hands his runner over into Wallyce’s care, so the sharp-faced man produces a dip of head and then his other hand extends expectantly in Faust’s direction. Once both are in his care, the runners are led off in an echoing clop of hooves. It’s Vaputero’s comment on the runners under his care that has Max turning a tight smirk onto his Bitran counterpart but he says nothing on the topic. Instead a brow goes up for Faust’s comment on hatred garnered, tone more amused than anything else, “Some might take those for fightin’ words and given the odds,” a pointed look going to his men surrounding the pair, “I’m not likin’ your chances.” – “Or he’s just a dumb fuck,” Waine puts forth with a broad shouldered shrug and a taunting smirk sent the other second’s way.
Max of course shoots his burly second a warning sidelong look but puts words and attention Vaputero’s way as he steps aside and gestures toward the bowl. “Aye that we have,” a nod given, “Got a place apart from the others set up for your convenience and privacy,” more like to be better able keep an eye on the man during his stay at the Weyr considering that the room he speaks of is at the end of the storage corridor. With that he’ll turn and start heading out toward the bowl, the shoulder knots of the men that follow in tight silence as they step into the moonlight, revealing them to be a majority blend of none other than…dragonriders. This being just exactly the kind of display that had been suggested by Randi when Max had apprised her of the Bitran’s intent to visit the South – show of the kind of pull southern’s crimelord has in the Weyr.
With Faust glaring back at Max’s second, watching every muscle twitch Waine makes, “Maybe we’re looking for a fight,” Vaputero grunts to Max, eyes flicking around the men surrounding them. “Seen worse odds. That don’t scare me.” – “You can call me a ‘dumb fuck’ a little closer, buddy,” Faust is tossing Waine’s way, not liking that comment one bit. Where Max shoots Waine a warning, Faust gets no such thing from Vaput. “Convenience and privacy, huh?” he drawls, echoing the words with open dryness as he stares hard at the southern crimelord. “My, aren’t we special.” Then Max turns to go, the two Bitran hesitating before they slowly follows along with dark looks. When the men surrounding them bring their shoulderknots into the light, Faust draws up and slams a hand against Vaputero’s chest, halting him. “Fuckin’ dragonriders!” he growls, wrenching his gaze left and right, and his boss does the same. As for Vaput, all he gives in return was a cold smile and a shake of his head. “Flashy,” is all he says before brushing Faust’s hands away and moving along with grey eyes flicking every which way.
With every fibre of his being screaming at him to lunge at Vaputero with knife drawn and knock him on his arse, Max simply produces a faint smirk, “Let’s keep the fightin’ for Tillek, aye?” Sounding bored with the man’s posturing as he leads the pair toward the Weyr’s lower caverns. Waine sends a snort Faust’s way, and mutters in an aside, “Dumb as fuck and deaf too.” That his rejoinder to the man taunting him to step in closer with his insults.
When the Bitran crimelord questions his motives, Max turns a sidelong look to him as they walk. “You have a lot of enemies,” he states flatly, “I would be a poor host if I didn’t provide my guests with what protection I am able to,” such innocence wound into his tone he could almost be believed. For while he would relish helping the man to his end, now was neither the time nor the place to do so. The growled response when those following along behind are revealed for what they are draws a disparaging snort from Southern’s crimelord, “It’s a Weyr.” Duh.
It’s not long before the small party is out of the bowl and stepping into the deserted lower caverns, Max and Waine leading the Bitran pair down a passageway that winds into the belly of the Weyr. Several doors under heavy lock and key are passed without pause until finally when it may look like Vaputero and Faust are being led to a place of seclusion intended for their demise, the Southern crimelord stops before a door right at the very end.
Vaputero’s brow rises upon the initial comment of the Tillekian fights, the big Bitran dropping, “Yeah, I hear you’ve been getting chummy with the old ringleader,” in indication of Kelarad. “I suppose this his confirmation. Keeping my son from me without so much as a missive-attached firelizard.” – “Yeah, my fist is pretty deaf, too,” Faust is grumbling, eyeing where the southern men were leading them warily. Yeah, the second was itching for a fight by now to offset his not being in control right now. When Max notes that he has a lot of enemies as an excuse, “Like you?” Vaputero guesses dryly, giving Max a sidelong look as he sees the comments for what they are. But then, Max is leading them down a passageway that looks like storage caverns and then the he stops before the very last one. Faust looks around with a heavy frown, shaking his head. “Don’t trust this, boss,” he’s rumbling low to Vaputero, to which the big Bitran returns with “Shut up. A good man like Lomaxin would have tried to knock us down back at the tunnel if that was his intention,” and he turns to give Max an incline of his head and a mocking little smile. Faust is not so convinced. “Or maybe they’re looking to do us in behind closed doors,” he tacks on, nodding towards the locked as his hand rest comfortably on his knife. “Out of the sights of those damn stuffed firelizards.” Vaputero grunts. “If anything were to happen to us,” he states to Faust, but it’s clearly intended for Max and his men that followed, “surely they would know that all the men I have down here would cause a ruckus to Weyr and Holds a like down here in the south. Dragonriders can’t find all of us.”
Faintly amused by the comment made about his association with Kelarad, Max lifts a brow, “Jealous?” He’s not so amused however when the Bitran makes mention of the result of the abuse he’d levelled against Olira, the southerner’s jaw tightening as he swallows down the harsh retort that springs to his lips. Waine too sets the northern crimelord with a hard look his top lip curling up at one corner in a decidedly unfriendly manner. In an attempt to diffuse a situation that might quickly spiral out of control, Max halts with the key in the door, and sends with sardonic amusement, “I have enemies already? Don’ I feel special.” – “Must be doing something right,” Waine quips dryly on the heels of that.
The door unlocked, Max gives it a hard push and steps aside to reveal a room containing two sumptuously made-up beds along with a table and two chairs that has been rather lavishly put together. The shelf set along one wall holds several of the new harper tales recently put into circulation, a couple of bottles of good wine and glasses to go with them.
That mocking smile that had accompanied Vaputero’s words on what Max’s intentions may or may not be, earn the big Bitran a tight smirk, especially in light of being called a ‘good man’ by him. If he only knew of the images that lie beneath that bland exterior, notions of extreme and cruel violence playing through the southern crimelord’s mind as he ushers them inside. “We hope you’ll be comfortable,” such polite words sent to Vaputero, but to Faust go the following words that hold just a trace of threat. “Don’t need to find all of you.”
“Hardly,” Vaputero drops coldly on jealously, looking Max’s way. “The man’s a fool that should have demised in his own fighting rings. Perhaps even defeated by you.” Yes, he knew about Max having fought in the rings, and Faust snorts at it. On enemies, the Bitran men at first say nothing, letting the tension rise. Faust’s mouth opens to break the silence, only to have Max swing the door open to their quarters and find it well furnished. Not like prison, or at least it’s a luxurious prison, whatever words the second was to utter dies on his lips. Vaputero flicks appraisal over the room before he turns a glance Max’s way and puts in, “So. You hope to seduce me with the fine things of the Weyr to cuckold me, is that it?” – “Now all it’s missin’ is the wenches,” Faust tacks on behind his boss, his words deliberately easy. Then the big Bitran takes heavy, deliberate steps into the room, looking as if he was expecting more men jump out from the shadows. His fingers feathering the hilt of the long, curved knife at his side, he makes a slow circular turn as he studies his surroundings before he turns in time to hear Max’s last words to his second. “Brave,” he answers before his second could, “but for how long?”
As much as Max’s face is clear of expression in response to the Bitran’s words over Kelarad meeting his end, he’s hard pressed to keep a flash of loathing from his eyes, though he covers it well enough with a darkly amused twitch of lips, “Never got the chance to go up against our Tillekian brother.” A luxurious prison indeed for one can be sure that storage room fifteen will be kept under close and surreptitious guard during the Bitran’s stay. For their own safety of course. Yeah right.
At Vaputero’s words, the southern crimelord lifts a brow, “If I wanted to fuck you…over,” deliberately leaving a pause where he flows a disconcerting sweep of dark eyes over the man, “You and him,” a nod to Faust, “would have separate rooms.” And yes, that was a deliberate attempt to put the Bitran off centre by making it seem like Max might have tried to seduce him. Why? Because it amuses him to do so. It’s Waine that sends a sharp look Faust’s way when he makes comment of having wenches at their disposal. “Shit, if we’d just been sent word ahead we might not have given them all the next few sevens off,” the big southern second states dryly, sickening at the thought of the likes of the northern pair with their hands all over southern women.
Following Vaputero into the room, Max gestures for his men to remain outside with just Waine allowed entry with him. “Long enough,” is all he remarks to the Bitran’s last gaze sweeping about the quarters set up for the pair and then bland dark-eyed regards lands back onto the northern crimelord, “You mentioned havin’ business to discuss?”
Snorting, “He maybe your Tillekian brother,” Vaputero counters on that one, turning away from the southern crimelord. “But I would pay to see that fight.” Hard eyes continue to take in the surroundings beside his second, only catching the tail end of Max’s comment involving fucking him over before he throws a cold look his way. There’s a distinct glint of disdain in his eyes when Max flows that look over him, the deliberate attempt seeming to succeed since he says nothing. The topic of wenches get Faust to toss back, “If we had sent, we’d likely be getting even cooler reception.” Now Faust turns to notice that Max gestures for his men to remain behind while his boss was moving towards the bottles set up, the second giving Waine a hard look. With Vaputero’s back to Max as he moves to uncork one of the bottles and give is whiff to his nose – as if he could sniff out something fellis or poison – he seems to expect the question on business for his is quick to answer with, “Yeah. I want to see my son, and you have someone of mine that needs returning.” Turning to look squarely over his should at Max, he adds in the deliberate pause, “I hope I made myself clear enough?” with a touch of sarcasm as he holds up an empty glass.
With the Bitran crimelord going for a bottle and appearing to try and sniff out whatever poisons might exist within it, there comes dry amusement to light dark eyes. Amusement that drops off swiftly when Vaputero states his intentions during his visit at the Weyr and Max finds himself having to shove his hands into his pockets rather than following instinct and reaching for the man’s throat. The topic of the man’s son is a given, that of someone to be returned to him not as much and so the young southern crimelord affects ignorance as he meets that hard look with a blank one of his own. “Someone of yours, eh?” a glance sent to Waine as if he might know to whom Vaputero is referring to for which the big southern second merely sends a shrug of shoulders. He’s apparently clueless too. Mmhm. Taking to pacing an idle stroll about the Bitran’s appointed quarters, “There’s many what come and go through here, as you can imagine. Come to think of it, there was this one fellow, a herdbeaster, a while back. Seemed a shifty sort but he didn’t hang around long. He one of yours?” Max’s tone kept polite and conversational as if he honestly has no idea what the man is talking about.
When Max seems to feign ignorance to one of his demands, the southern men exchanging glances and dubious words, Vaputero pour himself a glass from the bottle and takes a tiny taste first before speaking. “Not that one,” he drops into the air coolly, to which Faust adds as he paces about the room, “You know the one we’re talking about. The Dicori bitch.” Vaput throws a hard look in his second’s direction before he glances at Max and tacks on, “Bajaya of Bitra,” in a more polite manner than his second. “She is an employee of mine and I know-“ he even points his glass in Max’s direction, “-that you are harboring her just as the one up on Telgar did.” – “Perhaps they need their memory jogged,” Faust seems so helpful to offer, his fingers flicking over the knife hilt at his side. He looks like he’s just itching for a fight, which the big Bitran is not pleased about. “I have not released her from my company, southern,” he adds, chin lifting. “I should expect a man of rules, spoken or no, would respect something like that.”
And here it is, the true test of Max’s ability to employ tact and diplomacy rather than losing his temper. Granted Faust’s addition to his boss’ opening words hits the southern crimelord’s back and so he’s able to school the initial flash of anger and force his jaw to loosen before he slowly turns back toward the two men, expression bland. Stroking a hand down his chest his response is almost amused as a brow tips upward, “An employee of yours, is that right?” One hand to his hip, the other lifts and rubs idly at his chin, as he appears to give this some consideration, “If you ain’t released her from your company then…she’s what? Down here on…vacation?” Despite words of taunting ignorance there’s a hard, cunning light to his dark regard. Waine sets his boss with a sidelong and arms unfold from where they’d been crossed about his chest to hang loosely at his sides and within easy reach of his knife at Faust’s words. All pretences fall away as Max fits the Vauptero with a look as cold as the Reaches he was bred from. “You come into my home and start makin’ demands? Ain’t exactly neighbourly.” Boldly, he takes another step closer, dark amusement lifting up, “She slipped your leash, mate. Best you make your peace with it and move on like she has. She ain’t here no more.”
One would certainly need diplomacy in this situation – especially in regards to this man. The two men stay silent as Max deliberated, Faust watching where Max’s hand goes as his own tightens about his hilt. To the question of the Bitran woman being down on vacation, “Don’t rightly care why she was down here,” is Vaputero’s crisp answer. With his eyes then tightening to the latter, the big Bitran setting his glass down on the table, “’Demands’? Returning what is mine is a courtesy – a courtesy I see that is not being offered. There will be no peace,” he declares coldly, his eyes hard. “Whether she is here or not, I will find her, and I will remember this blatant insult a young southern crimelord has paid me.” He takes a step back then reclaiming his glass and nodding for Faust to subsist when he looks his way. “Now, the matter of my son. How soon can I see him? Am I granted that much, or do I have to use force?”
If Vaputero was hoping to find the young southern crimelord cowering or flinching in the face of his ire and reputation, he’ll be sorely disappointed for rather than doing so, Max merely lifts his chin and sends the man an implacable look. “Then hear this,” tone lowering to deadly quiet levels, “you continue to go after her, you’d better do so off of southern soil or you’ll find out just how disrespectful I and this entire Weyr can get. She belongs to us now.” With the man looking to be insulted either way, he may as well add warning and stake unspoken claim to both Jaya and her skills. Taking a step toward the door with Waine at his back Max pauses with his hand on the knob and turns a tight look onto Vaputero from out of which a cold smile appears, “Only if you want to become dragon food,” that his comment to the man attempting force and then adds, “You’ll see your son alright, but it ain’t gonna be without eyes and ears.” In other words, if the man was hoping for a private audience, it wasn’t going to happen and he could likely expect to do have to do so under armed guard.
“Thought you said she left here for good?” Vaputero counters, not appearing daunted to Max’s cold warning with glass lifted up. Now Faust strides across the room to pour himself a glass, letting the crimelordmen posture about while he drinks – especially since there was to be no women to slake his thirst on. In comment to Jaya now belonging to the Weyr, “Such folly,” the second says, pouring himself a glass now. “Perhaps we should call in Viconil, ehh boss?” – “There’s no need,” Vaput answers him curtly, cutting such suggestions off as he continues to level hard eyes on the southern men. To Max in particular, “My men will be arriving in the morning,” he adds with a bare cold smile. “You didn’t think I would travel alone, did you? They’ll camp outside the walls, however,” and he drains his glass and sets it down. “I won’t have them sullied.” – “We’ll be taking a tour of the Weyr, in the morning,” Faust adds with a smile, sending that towards Waine. “I heard there’s a bar here.” – “You can put the whole Weyr in attendance, if it calms your little heart,” Vaput adds to Max on account of seeing his son, his smile a chilly one. “The last thing I would want is to be a good guest,” and there’s mockery there.
“Did I?’ Max responds with just the twist of a smile that might suggest he’s deliberately leading Vaputero around in verbal circles. The name spoken has him setting Faust with a tight look and one can be sure he’ll be finding out just exactly who this Viconil is. His dark regard then swings to the Bitran crimelord as he’s addressed, “I’ll be sure to let the boys know to have fresh water and food sent out for them.” Such a good host isn’t he? There is but a dark smirk for the attempted insult. Waine sets Faust with a near maniacal grin on the matter of Weyr tours the next day. “First round will be on me,” the big southern second gives on the man stopping by the bar, hinting at the fact that he intends accompanying the Bitran on his ‘tour’. A rough snort from Max is all that greets Vaputero’s last, “Didn’t expect any different.” And then he’s sending Waine a sharp look as he sends a nod the Bitran pair’s way, “Enjoy your evenin’. You need anythin’ Exon will be pleased to arrange what he can for you.” Yeah, there’ll a guard at the door, boys. Without further word the southern crimelord and his second leave, the door closed behind them with a sharp click though there is no tell-tale turn of key in the lock to suggest that Vaputero and Faust are indeed…prisoners of the Weyr.
When Faust sees that tight look on the name dropped, “You think that whelp’s the only Dicori we have employed?” is his leading question, to which finally, Vaputero states to the man, “Enough.” He lets the silence linger, letting both Max and his second have his say before he answers curtly, “You do that.” To which, he does not say. “Lucky us, escort guards,” and he sends Waine a look. “I wouldn’t expect any different from those harboring fugitives. You can see yourselves out.” With that, Vaputero turns his back on them as they make to leave, even though Faust keeps his hard gaze on the men until the door gets closed. It’s only when their alone in the room that the second hisses back, “We were fuckin’ led into a trap!” into which case, the big Bitran merely states, “Let them play their games. We have little ones of our own.”
Ending Song: 30 Second to Mars - "This is War"