Uncivilized Men


Jinnet.jpg (NPC'd by Jaya) Max.jpg Waine.jpg (NPC'd by Max)

Date: Sept. 18, 2010
Location: Beast Cavern, EW
Synopsis: Jinnet gets grilled by Max and Waine, and he lets slip information that isn't quite the truth. It isn't quite not true, either.
Rating: PG-18 for strong language and violence.
Logger: Jaya

Jinnet, in the tackroom. From what he could tell in the few days of his captivity, he's certain that those that have him aren't looking to kill him. If this were Bitra and in a certain renegade's power, he would have been killed before the sun rose to the sky on the same night he was caught. He was still tied to a chair, a dull ache being the only signal to the fact that he was still very much injured - though, not as much now that that healer had came by to check on him. She was a pretty thing, but Jinnet's mind wasn't working too well these days when all you've had to face so far was being stabbed at with needles and a kick here and there. At this point, he didn't know what else to expect - especially since not once has he been questioned since that fateful night. Before the healer arrived, it almost seemed as if he was merely forgotten. Bleary eyes had a hard time telling what time of day it was, and every now and then he would shuffle about on the chair in the hopes that such a movement would at most loosen his tight bonds. It did little, of course, but the stock man wasn't going to stop trying. He had to get out of there, one way or another.

Aside from having taken the time to ride out in search of Renegade, Max had deliberately left Jinnet to stew. With just that brief visit from the healer to set his broken arm and nose, the only other person that had been allowed into the tack room thus far, was Waine when he brought meals, and then under strict instructions not to interact with the thief in any way. Of course, that didn’t stop the big stable hand from making his life miserable where he could; taunting by placing the plate just out of the thief’s reach, or ‘forgetting’ to provide eating utensils, ‘accidentally’ spilling half the mug of water brought for the man onto the floor. However, the next time the key turns in the lock and the door opens, it’s the beast manager standing in it’s frame, a cold and calculating smile on his face.

Jinnet was in the process of one of his chair shuffles when he hears that key turn in the now-familiar sound of the door lock. He stops his movements at once, his gaze resting right on the beast manager's face once the door swings open. He lets his gaze roam over him for a moment before he flexes what he could of his good arm against the bonds and hocks spit on the ground. "There you are, sweetie," he mocks openly, sending Max a leery look that probably wouldn't be translated to anything suggestive by the daring glint in his eyes. "Come to your senses'n ya gonna let me go?" Despite his position, he just couldn't help taunting the beast manager. "Looks like you're still smarting," he pointedly notes the injuries Max has sustained by he himself, baring teeth now in a smile. "Unless you've come for me to knock out that other eye of yours…"

Hands in pockets, Max simply stands there a while, that same calculating smile in place, letting the thief’s words flow right over him and showing no reaction to the spitting on the ground. Eventually, with a nod to Waine to take up position outside of the room, he saunters in, and closes the door behind him, unsheathing his knife. The swelling about the cut to his eyebrow has lessened to some degree and his eye opened once again. The limp too is gone; although one can be sure there are still a few activities that’ll have that bruised thigh muscle complaining. The smile slips into a smirk as the beast manager draws up a chair in front of Jinnet and turning it around, straddles it with his arms dangling over its back. “Smarter’n you,” he finally gives with a pointed tip of his knife the way of the ropes keeping the man his prisoner. “So we got your mate too,” he pauses a moment studying the tip of the blade of his knife and then continues on with well formed calm, “Passan?” Having remembered the thief in captivity to have called that name out to his hurriedly departing accomplice. “Singing like an avian,” Max states and then adds idly, “Amazing what a hundred small nicks from a blade on various…” cue the cruel grin, “sensitive parts of the body, will have a man doing.”

Jinnet eyes that knife as Max closes the door behind him, and when he sits there's a sneer to appear upon his face. It's only at the name of his companion that the thief goes still, eyes narrowing dangerously at that. "Shit like ya do," he tosses back, arms straining against the ropes as if he's expecting them to give way. "Where's he at, huh? I saw'im run, bastard, and he's too slick to get caught!" Doesn't quite explain in his mind how the other knew Passan by name though, completely not remembering the fact that he had called out so during the heist. Eyes drop to that blade in question now. "So what? Gonna do me in? Is that what ya here for?" he growls at the beast manager, keeping a tremble from his tone and fear from his eyes.

Impassive, his expression as Max watches Jinnet take in that information. “Waine!?” he calls out to get the big ‘hand on the other side of the door’s attention keeping his gaze the thief before as he taps his knife idly against the back of the chair. Smirking, “He mighta run, but Bowen rode him down.” Its right then that a dull thud and what appears to be a moan of pain coming from someone emanates from the stall next door. Turning his head slightly in that direction and then shrugging, “That would be your mate. Guess he fell out of his chair again,” extending his leg and tapping the toe of his boot against the leg of the chair Jinnet inhabits. “Do you in?” allowing a flash of amusement to flash through is expression. But it’s an ugly thing and holds no warmth or true humour to it, “Naw, I’m here to offer you your life,” the smile stretches and fills with dark intent, “that is if you…co-operate.”

Well ain't this a sort of pickle. Jinnet nearly flinched at that familiar name of the thug, seeming to think Max was calling him in to do some damage. And since Max is in the mood to share names, "Bowen, huh?" Jinnet repeats that one all too calmly, as if he was putting it away in memory. He heard that thud and moan, alright, and he fidgets when the beast manager reaches forward to tap his own chair leg. He continues to say nothing, to give nothing away as the other speaks, but at least he's stopped all the shuffling and fidgeting for the moment. As for Passan, Jinnet just wasn't sure what to think, and the man really isn't that bright enough to press further questions on the matter to detect whether the other is lying. He's just stubborn as a feline, is all. "Offer me my own life," he repeats that slowly, derision evident in his gruff tone. "Yeah okay. I'll cooperate alright. Let me just save ya the trouble and tell ya all ya wanna know." Chin lifts, and the man sits back against the chair before he adds all too sardonically, "Gonna need a woman to fuck, though. That's the only way yer gettin' shit outta me, buddy." Belligerent to the core, Jinnet stares Max down boldly with firm resolve.

He might likely have bought the tanner a whole world of unwanted trouble with that slip of his tongue, however Max keeps his expression clear of any such telling signs of the mental ass kick he just gave himself for it. Dark eyes watch Jinnet’s reaction to the sounds coming from the next stall from under lowered lids, although it might look like the beast manager is more interested in skewering a hole with his knife into the wood of the chair he straddles. At the derisive demand Jinnet makes, a grin slowly but surely peels out, “Oh Waaaine,” calling out in sing-song tone, “Your girlfriend here is miiissing you!” Suddenly Max’s knife arm snaps out and the point of the blade presses lightly against the thief’s groin, “The only fucking you’re going to do,” he gives out in a low steely tone, “is yourself, when I cut this off and shove it in your mouth.” Putting a little more pressure against the knife, “Now. Who sent you?” asked quietly just as Waine opens the door and steps in.

At hearing Waine's name, Jinnet nearly blanches in color. His mouth opens to retort such a thing until he sees where that knife presses on his person. With those accompanying words, along with Waine now showing up, "Thought ya weyrfolks were more'n civilized than us," he bites back, boots scrabbling against the floor as he tries his best to shift his groin away from that knife. He's weighing his options, though. He definitely didn't want anything on him getting cut off, so his eyes drop to that knife with a grimace. It's with strained dryness, then, that Max's question is met with, "Your mother." Hooo boy. Runner thief apparently likes to play with fire.

Waine steps in behind Jinnet and grabbing a handful of his hair, yanks his head back, lowering his thick features closer to the thief’s as if he were about to kiss the poor git rather soundly. What he does however is flicker a glance over to Max, a twisted smile in place as he answers in the beast manager’s stead, his mouth close to Jinnet’s ear, “This…is civilized, cupcake.” Faranth forbid he should ever meet ‘uncivilized’ in that case. The bound man trying to scrabble away from the knife, simply has it pressing in hard enough to actually pierce through fabric and perhaps graze a scratch against sensitive bits if he’s not able to somehow twist away in time. At the insult thrown out, Max throws back his head and all but roars with laughter, which suddenly snaps off and the prisoner is set with a tight sneer, “My mother…is the one who taught me all I know.” Which could be taken any number of ways, none of which are likely to be good for the thief. With a nod to Waine to expose the man’s throat if he can, the beast manager is up and out of his chair quicker than Jinnet can likely blink, the flat of his blade to the other’s throat, “Names! I want them and now!” The flat look in his eyes might tell of him being done with playing games now.

Jinnet's hair is pulled back, and the man cries out at the sharp pain. He wrenches his face away when Waine comes too near, teeth grating together at the man's response. Of course, that particular pain was short-lived, for now he has his groin to worry about. "Then yer mother's a nut!" he's snapping back in anger at Max's words, throwing caution to the wind. "Get the fuck offa me!" He struggles, up until Waine exposes his throat and causes all of that to cease. The lump in his throat could be well seen now, showing his nervousness in a situation that was going from bad to worse really fast. Panting heavily, spittle dropping from his chapped lips, "Ya don't wanna know, sweetheart," he drops on names, seeming to make the conclusion that Passan - their other singing bird - didn't drop any himself. "Since my friend's singing songs already, go ask'em. I've got shit to say to ya."

Waine keeping a firm hold on the wriggling thief’s hair pats an overly hand smack against his face with his other meaty mitt, and grins over at Max, “Gotta love the screamers,” making it sound all kinds of dirty when Jinnet yelps in pain. The beast manager’s grin matches that of his thug turned stablehand’s though it wears a gritty edge to it for the insult to his mother, “Aye,” given in agreement to Indira being a nut in the thief’s eyes. “Your friend?” blinking and feigning confusion as he glances over to Waine for confirmation, “Oh right. Passan. He…kinda ran out of breath before he could finish saying the name,” giving that dire implication that the thud Jinnet had heard was that of his accomplice falling to an early grave. “Sorry ‘bout that. You two weren’t…you know…close or anything were you?” tippling his knife over onto it’s edge and pressing in against the bound man’s throat enough to draw a thin line of superficial blood. Yeeeah, Jinnet might want to consider giving a name or anything to help his cause at this stage.

Jinnet continues to struggle, Waine's words not helping matters any as far as he was concerned. Not to mention the fact that he had to urinate pretty badly. At hearing about Passan, his eyes go from Max to what he could see of Waine in his sitting position, then back again. Swallowing visibly now, "Didn't know'im," he lies, trying his wrists against the tied ropes again. He could say more, or taunt for that matter, until that press of the knife draws blood. Gagging in panic, "People, alright!" he shrieks, trying to tear his head free from Waine's grip. "People….look! I belong to some people that aren't goin' to take kindly to me bein' missin' for too long!" At least, he's hoping so. "Let me go and I'll put a good word for ya! Won' rob from ya again! Ya already got one of us down!" Yep, he's assuming Passan is dead, and he's not liking his own chances one bit.

Waine snorts to Jinnet saying he didn’t know Passan and with a rough shove of hand releases the grip he’d had on the man’s hair. “He ain’t worth the trouble, boss. Just off him and be done with it,” the big ‘stablehand’ gives in a bored rumble. Lessening the pressure on the blade at the thief’s throat for a moment, Max affects a girlishly panicked squeak of a voice, “Let me go and I’ll put a good word for ya!” he mimics in mockery of his prisoner. “At least go out like a man,” the knife dropping away from the man’s throat and looking to be dropping toward his groin once again, “Been a few days already,” the beast manager points out, “No one’s coming for you. Way I see it. You got two choices. Tell me what I want to know and live a little longer. Or die now,” shrugging as if it really doesn’t matter much to him, “Your choice.”

Perhaps it was Waine's words on offing him that has its desired result. Once his hair is released, Jinnet's head snaps forward and glares at the beast manager for his taunts. And then that knife goes to his groin again. He really has to pee, and he's scared shitless, so there's to be a growing wet spot right near where Max is placing that knife. Humiliated enough, "They'll find me soon enough," he growls back, though there's uncertainty here since it has been a few days of no signs. "Y'wanna name?" He pauses, considering his options. Giving Lorayit's name was getting him dead if he lived through this ordeal, so that was out. Beady eyes flick from Max to Waine and back, weighing the lesser of two evils in his mind. He had a name he could give alright, and since he was technically not involved, or even knew they were there, "Take it up with Vaputero," he finally drop, affecting a defeated slant to both tone and posture. He may not be a smart one, and dropping that particular name may cause all kinds of problems in the future, but when pushed to it he'll find a way out of anything. He couldn't find a way out of his soiled pants, though. Focusing solely on Max now since he has the knife, "Y'got yer name, now either kill me already or let me the fuck go!"

Waine having moved from behind the bound man, to stand beside the beast manager with thick arms crossed over his chest starts to grin. That grin widening in unison with the wet spot spreading on the terrified man’s trousers, “He done pissed himself,” noted with an amused snort to his handler. All reaction that gets from Max is a rough snort in turn, his eyes never leaving the thief’s face, reading it for any and all Tells the man let’s loose. “Vaputero,” he echoes the name slowly, as if tasting it in his mouth. Tapping the flat of his blade against Jinnet’s urine darkened trousers in quite literal pointed reminder of the consequences of not continuing to co-operate, a cold smirk appears, “You ain’t going nowhere until you tell me where this Vaputero can be found and what his interest in stealing my runner is.”

"Wanna switch places?" Jinnet tosses back at Waine noting his humiliation, his eyes staring daggers into him as he strains against the ties. When Max takes on the name given, it brings his gaze back to him and then it drops to that tapping knife. Oddly enough, cold laughter meets Max's demand of finding Vaputero. His head goes back, the robust laughter spilling forth and it sounds almost maniacal in deliverance. Once his laughter lingers long enough, his head lolls back forward and he pins bleary eyes onto both of them. Yeah, he'll tell them where to find him, alright. "Might want to dig yer own graves first before ya seek'im out," he drawls that bit out, his head swaying. "Ya'll find'im in Bitra if yer lucky. Good luck with that, sweetheart." And he's laughing again.

Waine can be one hard son of a bitch. As such, Jinnet will find neither apology nor remorse in the thug’s expression, just flat eyes staring out of a now impassive face for the other man’s humiliation. If Max is startled or made wary by that maniacal bout of laughter coming off of his prisoner, there is only the slight stiffening of frame to bear testament to it and then a sneer breaks out. “You’re talking shit,” he states flatly, “What Bitran reaches all the way down to Southern for a fucking runner!? You’re going to have to try better than that, dimglow!” the last growled out in irritation for what sounds like a thin covering of thief’s own butt.

"Ain't talkin' shit," Jinnet tosses back words at the beast manager, his gaze hard. "What the fuck reason I know for why he wants yer runner? Y'think I'd ask'im?" Lying through his teeth, the words are spilling forth faster than he could think them. "He wants it, and so he gets it. Not now, of course. Ya fucked that up. Runner ain't the only thing he's after. Yer runner ain't that important. He got ties, and that's all ya need to know!" Sneering now, "Believe what ya want, sweetheart," he puts forth low, studying both men now. "Matters little to me. He want something, he'll get it. If it's not me, it'll be someone else." Ominous words, perhaps?

As Jinnet continues to spout off at the mouth, Max’s eyes narrow until they’re nothing but dark slits pinned to the man before him. He is –not- liking what he’s hearing, that much is evident. Neither is Waine, if the tight look he’s flicking sidelong onto the beast manager is anything to go by. Voice dangerously low as that knife starts once again to press in against the thief’s wetted groin area, “What else is he after down here? And don’t try telling me it ain’t my business. You made it my business when you broke in here. Is it a mark? Is it a bad debt? Is he after setting up a network here?” patience worn down to its last thread, “What the fuck is it!?”

Perhaps he did say too much, but the mutinous look Jinnet shoots Waine's way is one rife with nervousness. He was dropping half-truths, right? He catches the looks being sent between the men, and that knife to the groin gets a shift in his chair. Baring teeth, "An old employee of his," he drawls, eyes hard on the beast manager. "Unless ya harborin' criminals with ties to him here, then it ain't got nothin' to do with you and this here Weyr. Best to stay out of that." He definitely isn't dropping names there, well aware that Eastern's got itself the very mark he's been sent for. Lifting his chin defiantly as he knows he's said too much already, "So what'll it be? Ya gonna off me with that, or are ya gonna yap at me all day? Cuz I'm done talkin'!"

Brows lift upward when Jinnet reveals that this Vaputero character is looking for a former employee on the Southern continent. What is obviously troubling Max, is that this search has somehow included the Weyr. Jinnet has indeed, probably said far too much. But he’s got enough for now and as such with a barely discernible nod to Waine both step back and away from the thief. “You’re gonna sit here and think about what else you might remember,” the beast manager gives with a tight twist of lips around a cold smile. To Waine, “He gets but one meal a day and only enough water to keep him alive. Take the glows out of here too.” Yup, he fully intends leaving Jinnet to sweat for another day or so before he’ll be back in there and pressing for more information. In the meantime, one can be sure that a certain Bitran bar owner will be receiving a visit from Max in the very near future.

When it looks like the grilling session was over, it takes pains for Jinnet to hide his relief. If he wasn't tied up so, he'd be patting himself on the back for a job well done. In his eyes, diverting attention away from his boss, Lorayit, had succeeded. Watching the two men before him, he was more than certain that they wouldn't be able to figure anything else out beyond the notorious renegade in Bitra. Anyone in the 'know' knew who Vaputero was, after all, and any who really knew of the man had the balls to steer clear of him. "I ain't got nothing more to say," he answers back, matching Max's cold smile with one of his own. "Next time ya come at me, ya better be ready to do something." Even if it meant taking his own life, but the stocky man at this point is hoping that somehow, he'll get free. Just needs to come up with a plan.

Ending Music: Metallica - "The Unforgiven"

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