Flip Card (Fromikable)

[Azureth]

Cavernous. Probably the adjective most suited to Selonia, Adriael mused as she glided through the back streets. Well, not so much glided. It was more an awkward way making than anything. But cavernous, the entire city was not unlike an inverted cavern in a way, quite peculiar and certainly beautiful.

Even in it's vastness it was still very much claustrophobic to the young woman, considering dampness in the air that would never quite dissipate. Or was it a thickness? The wide eyed girl could have mused on appropriate adjectives for some time, if not pre-occupied by the simple pastime of navigating through the winding streets. Which she could not have done without the coordinates burned into her brain. Figuratively, of course. Black clad, her guards lingered a surreptitious distance away, attempting to blend in amidst the racially diverse crowd that littered the bustling streets. Until of course, her eyes did cross the neonesque sign that screamed paazak and 'booze.' Figuratively screamed, of course. This day, Adriael's brain dealt in metaphorical fact. And adjectives. Many adjectives.

The adjectives were still there when she made the subtle switch to Fierfek, swarming her mind as her lengthy, pale fingers slighted open the door handle. Out of the proverbial sea of people, and into...well. A pazaak den. Of all places.

Business was business, no matter where it was carried out. The broker had recently departed an upstanding merchant's luxurious estate, then onto a restaurant to meet with a banker whom had some juicy tidbits, and now as dusk settled somewhere in Selonia, she moved to a gambling house. Still dressed in her crisp, blue-grey robe in which was not the height of fashion. Fierfek was never the height of fashion. Only the height of the information market. Which was a flexible market indeed. Carried out in all places, in the minds of monsters and words of beggars, the gossip of nobles and grunt of a scoundrel.

As prevalent in a palace as it was in the slightly seedy establishment she had not long entered. Populated by men and women of all standing and affluence, their common ground being the thrill of a win and perhaps even the crushing weight of a great loss. The throes of gambling, the pleasure of pleasure seeking. Accompanied scent of alcohol, a blackdamp smoke and musk of sweaty man that was unmistakable. A musk that every species had variants of, Fierfek was sure. None so far pleasant. Duelist ring was the day's most popular entertainment, that was plain to see from the crowds so huddled around the screens. The paazak tables however had not been left to abandon, in fact it was quite the opposite.

Bursting with all likelihood of citizens, moguls and of course the resident scoundrels. Which was the one she was to meet? A mixture, she supposed, if her information was correct.

Which it was, of course it was. There was an itching in her fingers to reclaim her datapad from her innermost pocket, just to check. Just to go over things again. Fierfek still wasn't so sure of the purpose of this meeting. Mysterious motives were unnerving indeed, although she doubted it was anything sinister.

The guards on the other hand...they had spread out in the establishment, acting as normal patrons regardless. Hardly out of the ordinary, mercenaries on a break. Or something to that description. It was difficult the battle the brain fog overcoming her from the atmosphere of loud voices and bright, flashing signs. As well as the natural fatigue of being up for thirteen hours.

Still, she made her way to the pazaak table closest to the entrance. And waited. Adjusting her hair, again, habits she couldn't kick. Electric blues flitted around the establishment, just waiting to find her Zeltron...archaeologist? What a meeting of the minds it could potentially be. A meeting that her mentor never would have condoned. When it was proposed, she perhaps should have immediately brushed it aside. 

Curiosity. It really was the killer. Fierfek, Adriael, she wasn't going to die tonight. Just a discussion. An offer.

Luckily, the broker whom sat crossed legged, with her hair down, endlessly shuffling a multi-coloured deck of bad luck...she was in no way feline. For her thirst for knowledge didn't kill her, rather it controlled her. Littering and yet fuelling her intellect with endless questions. 

What will come of tonight? I am ever so...curious.

It seems she was yet to find an adjective to replace the most overused word in her vocabulary. Well, aside from fascinating. Either way, the above question was certainly the most loud of echoes of her two virtues.

And the cards, in her fixation, the entire deck both fluttered and clattered to the slightly grimy floor. Quick fingers, she moved to pick them up.

Curiosity and fascination were indeed virtues. Or simply vices that drove the girl to utter distraction.

[Fromikeable]

The third and final set. A ten and an eight on his side, a full twenty on his opponent's made up of a two, a plus four, an eight, and a plus six. His opponent was out of cards. He himself was down only to a rare gem he'd earned (mind you, not gambled for) a year or so ago on Duro. He didn't consider obtaining something via gambling to be "winning it". "Winning" would imply that he was relying on chance and circumstance to determine the outcomes of his games.

And Rase had learned a very long time ago that relying on gaming the game was a far safer bet. That, and a little sleight of hand never hurt either.

His opponent, meanwhile, a very smiley-looking Devaronian, couldn't have been having a better day, it seemed. He was staying at a value of twenty thanks to his last two cards, and the pot looked pretty stacked by this point. Rase, he, and those who had formerly been playing had amassed quite the little pot; about ten-thousand credits, give or take a few nice holoprojectors, speeder keys, and even someone's watch.

Speaking as someone who studied ancient history, Rase was honestly more interested in getting the watch than anything else. Oh, right. He figured he should get on that.

And so he did. Pulling his hat down a bit, the Zeltron rolled up his tan sleeves and shook out his trousers before taking a light breath. To the casual observer, he might seem nervous, but frankly he was just putting on a small show for the crowd that had amassed near the table. Slender crimson fingers grasped the top-most card from his main deck as jeers, cheers, and assorted predictions ran as quietly through the crowd as was possible to do and still be audible.

Alas, those crimson fingers flipped the card on the table and revealed a two, matching his opponent's count. The Devaronian blinked in surprise, blushed almost as red as the Zeltron in nerves, anger, and shock, and moved to clear the table for a new set. The Zeltron's crimson hand was quicker, placing down the tie-breaker card and inspiring an uproar from all those present.

All he could do was grin a tiny grin, his face concealed under his fedora as the dealer swept his earnings into a small bag and handed them to him. Depositing the bag in his own small courier's bag, he reached in and slammed a small handful down toward the dealer; an offering of drinks to the crowd to prevent their becoming a mob.

And just like that, he was walking to the other side of the hall with a bag full of winnings and an appointment to meet.

To Rase, this was completely normal. Long before he'd ever so much as picked up a book, he'd made his living in halls and establishments like these, where the main concern of patrons were the more carnal things in life. The thrill of victory, the sting of defeat, and all emotions, urges, and quarrels that followed the two. After two decades or so at his "trade", he'd practically boiled it down to a science in terms of his efficiency. His confident opponent never bothered to check his opposition's deck. Earlier, a drunken Selonian had been too drunk to count straight. He hadn't picked their vines of credits and belongings bare, but...

Well, Rase was a strong believer in the old saying: Never bet what you're afraid to lose.

And speaking of old ways, that reminded him. Diving a hand into that same bag, the Zeltron searched blindly through all the currency and keys until he came upon something he'd actually purchased prior to entering the gambling hall; an elegant, foot-long purple feather, plucked fresh from some exotic aviary what must have been a good decade or so ago. Even still, it's age hadn't mattered to him so much as its features did. He'd told his contact that day to expect an archaeologist with a purple feather in his hat, and as the ornate feather made itself snug in the band of his fedora, Rase was fairly confident that his new acquaintance for the day could pick him out.

At least, he hoped. He'd dealt with plenty of information brokers with plenty of questionable intentions and reputations before, but there had also been the rare few that had been... less than bright. He hoped today wouldn't be the case.

Alas, as he passed another pazaak table, he found himself bathed in cards. Discreetly checking his pockets to make sure that the occurrence wasn't an attempt at his new-found belongings (or the ancient revolvers stowed at his waist out of sight), Rase detected no ill-will. This Arkanian woman had genuinely dropped her deck, and he watched her for a moment as she quickly attempted to pick them all up. Squatting down a bit, he adopted the gentlemanly approach and began to aid her, save for a plus card he found on the ground that, at a glance, looked like a possible addition to his own deck. That one was deposited in his own pocket with the discretion of someone who had been cheating since he was ten.

"I believe these are yours." He handed over what cards of hers he had gathered with a handsome smile, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the ambient noise of the hall, but softly enough to let his voice retain its rich, deep characteristics.

[Azureth]

After gathering the last of the wayward cards, she rose slowly to meet the eyes of a man whom gave her back that which she'd lost. A man she'd recognized from a brief scan over the pazaak tables. A winning man. Zeltron, vibrant eyes. Purple feather. She hadn't seen that upon the last glance, although she'd had her suspicions.

Fascinating.

"Oh, thank you. My apologies for the rain of cards, my mind was elsewhere," she said with a small smile, her usually pale face flushing ever so slightly. On a surface so starkly pale even the slightest bit of pink was very noticeable. It had the potential to turn close to the colour of the Zeltron's skin, is the occasion arose. Damnable pallor. Zeltron pheromones, must be the pheromones. Or was it her inherent inexperience and natural shyness? Mostly likely the latter. Although he did have an awfully lovely voice...And a purple feather. Yes, upon closer inspection it was perfectly clear.

Dr. Rase Hyul fit the description perfectly. It was perfectly in line with all that she'd dug up. Flawlessly. Without a single detail out of place, physically at least. The hat, the smile, the winnings. In a shower of cards, they'd found each other. How fitting. Adriael's clumsiness becoming beneficial. What an oddity.

Briefly running her fingers through her hair, the colour of the tundras of Rhen Var, a place she'd not long left, she chose her words carefully. Or tried to. "Oh, how peculiar...That is a lovely feather, Dr. Hyul," she said shyly, offering her hand. Adriael really needed to leave the system, Fierfek needed to kick in. Handshakes were the business of business and her Adriael side just wasn't good for business. She just didn't fit with the reputation.

"I believe you already know my name," she elected not to reveal her name, due to the environment she'd entered. Potential bounty hunter territory. Other brokers. The walls had ears. "And it is good to meet you," she concluded. Standard line, although she often meant it. This time may just have been one of those times. You could have almost called the deliver assertive. Almost.

She did feel a little rude not giving her moniker in the introduction, but with such assuredness she hardly needed one. Also, there was the matter of the many people who wanted her dead. It just wasn't wise to go spreading her presence around in an environment that was far from controlled. Honestly, a fair amount of people did not at first believe the wide eyed woman to be the fearsome broker that reputation allowed. Nonetheless, she was. And would always be. Until the day she was likely assassinated and someone else would carry the legacy.

Not a nice thought, she dispelled it as she re-seated herself, again crossing one leg over the other as she considered her next move. He was a variable, she could have this meeting entirely planned out in her mind to no avail. Because of intentions otherwise obscured obscured. Information, he wanted, obviously. Or rather, that was highly likely. But what, and how. Questions, always questions. Formalities first, of course.

"Take a seat, if you would," she spoke as if it were her office, which it obviously was not. The throes of such a place threw her out of balance significantly, although she was beginning to settle in. As much as she could, not quite letting herself sink against the black cushioning. Professionalism needed some semblance of posture, or so her mentor had always said. "Perhaps, we should get down to business, whatever business it is you have with me."

That was better, calmer. Yet she couldn't quite keep the curiosity out of her voice. It wasn't often that she wasn't sure of what someone wanted. Of course, she'd had her suspicions but nothing had come to light as of yet. Illumination was a constant desire.

[Fromikeable]

The woman's discreet blush wasn't lost on Rase, and he made a mental note to remember his apparent effect. It was hardly a new one; many a lady had felt a little blood rush to their cheeks at the sight of him, and if not then, at the sound of his voice or enchantment of his words. To say he had a few things going for him was a fair statement, and an advantage he had learned to make use of over the years.

But the hand through her hair... and the comment on his hat. By name. Grinning a bit wider, the Zeltron tipped the hat further down just a smidge. He hadn't expected his contact to be quite so... well, quite so clearly discomforted. She was nervous, attracted, and judging from her age and the way she tried to politely speak over the noise of the room, inexperienced to some degree. Even still, her reputation had preceded her, and she'd had enough sense to meet in public. Perhaps she wasn't the oldest broker on the block, but Rase got the impression that simply getting what he wanted from her without payment was an unlikely event. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't try, though.

After all, brokers and most manner of under-the-table dealers were basically just card-players. If you could make them feel confident enough not to inspect every detail, they would play straight into your hand, literally or otherwise.

"Of course I know your name, Miss, though I never would have subscribed it to such an alluring young creature." His grin continued to highlight his facial features. "And indeed, I believe the pleasure is all mine." A subtle comment to start, just for impressions. A business plan could get him many places, but a business plan and a compliment could get him those many and more.

Sitting beside her at the pazaak table, the doctor checked the strap to his bag before having to stop his hand in its instinctual movement toward his deck. After so many years of going to these tables for the purposes of earning a living, it was odd to sit at one and not gamble. Perhaps that was for the better, or perhaps it was for the worse.

Or perhaps both.

"Business indeed." He placed his deck down on the table, knocking lightly on the fabric-covered surface for the dealer to color him in. Shuffling his deck as the man handed over a small pile of chips, he began to speak in a rich, formal tone. "As I understand it, good madam, you have a knack for hearing things." He pushed a few credits from his bag forward to the dealer for the pot, drawing a hand and glancing to his side at her with vibrant green eyes. "As a man of purely academic pursuits, I might wonder if you could assist me in... 'listening' for a few things right here on Selonia." A Durese woman sat opposite them and colored in, and just like that, the game began.

[Azureth]

This kind of talk, she had heard before many a time. When someone wanting something from her, of course, and never had it ended well. Alluring, however, that was a new one, that caused a deeper shade of red and a slight stutter.

"W-Why, thank you, Doctor," she said with a small smile, gently berating herself for her momentary lapse. It was Adriael again, taking it all so personally. Flatterd, she was, although she figured she shouldn't have been. Old advice echoed in her mind, and naturally, some musing followed. Perhaps best kept in her mind."I can see how you've talked your way out of so many gambling troubles so consistently." Off guard, he'd caught her off guard. That was all. That had to be it.

But, she had been prepared. She'd done her reading. Serial womanizer. Smooth talking, serial womanizer. Seriously lovely voice...and pheromones. Pher-o-mones. Obviously, she was beginning to figure out that it wasn't simply the pheromones that caused her state. As many a female likely had been, Adriael was momentarily enchanted by the richness of his voice. Fortunately, she knew what she knew, what she'd read. The dossier. It was enough to slap her senses back to action, amidst the wall of noise that surrounded them.

It was just a shock. To be affected this way, by another living being. She'd read about it of course, and dealt with plenty of nice looking scoundrels in her time. The reality of it all, of this oh so foreign feeling, was of course very different than was expected. Accompanied by an inconvenient light blush that didn't quite leave, as her electric blues met the equally as vivid green eyes of the Zeltron before her.

"A knack, yes, you could call it that." she replied, a half smile gracing her features as she watched his curious actions. It seemed he reached for his pazaak deck, just as she moved hers aside with her lengthy fingers. "Just as you've a 'knack' for pazaak, so I've heard. Elsewise I might have thought to propose a game." Of course, they were very different things. Yet both the similar. Her client won, she suspected, due to part knack, part wit and of course a touch of trickery. Her business at times ran as a smokescreen, but it was hardly a knack she had. It was an instinct as well as a forced and chaotic notion. A web, woven across the galaxy by one far more adept than she. Thousands of whispers, of ears and eyes. An invisible empire. With not a hundred spider children to care for it, but one.

One, lone girl, whose smile always seemed sad and far away. Fleeting notes and thoughts, robotic yet melodic. Systematic, yet fragmented. Any world seemed a place she didn't belong, as if it moved around the anomaly that was she...but not in that moment, however fleeting it was she had her mind planted firmly in the world around her. However overwhelming her surroundings, her client certainly had her full attention. Undivided curiosity, and the occupancy of her thoughts. A strange sort of focus.

How was she to deal with this, the focus of her gaze and the Adriael still flustered behind her business mask. It took a moments deliberation, but she decided on blunt but tactful. What could go wrong with a contradiction like that?

Listening. There was some inkling of an instinct that told her not to brush this aside, some powerful curiosity fuelling her words and thoughts. "Purely academic. It is not often I come across such intentions," she stated, all the while doubting that to be the truth. It felt more like a half truth, to the chaotic girl, whose eyes flitted between her client and his new opponent. "To listen is easy enough, however I imagine you'd want to hear my findings."

Payment, it wasn't exactly optional, and the place her mind went to next, somewhere in between a shift of her body and the curious gaze that followed the setting of the scene. Pazaak, was to be had it seemed. Only slightly surprise. What an odd business.

"So, the questions remain. What is the nature of your curiosity, what would you have me hear? And what would you be willing to pay for it?"

The opponent seated opposite the two drew her first card, and from that instant Fierfek knew. Rase was to win. It was the natural order of things.

The negotiations however, would they be a different story?

[Fromikeable]

The dealer called for the initial bet, and the Durese woman threw in about 200 credits. Rase raised to 300. She raised to 400, where they both stopped. She began drawing her cards, hitting 17 and stopping. Rase, not missing a beat, drew a 7, and then a 5, paused, and then drew again, busting with a 10 at 22. The woman won the pot, making her little fortune grow.

"Me? Talk my way out of trouble?" He grinned over at her from below his hat as the next hand started, blindly shoving 1000 credits into the pot, his opponent matching. "Perish the thought." His opponent hit 20, and her fortune once again grew larger. It simply wasn't his lucky day, it seemed. His opponent was beginning to smile, relaxing in her seat, sorting through her credits slowly as she counted all that she was gaining.

It really was a shame that Rase wasn't one to rely on luck.

And yet, this poor girl he was talking too surely seemed like she'd need it. Rase had heard about her particular network and services before, but this had certainly not been what he had expected. He'd expected at least the norm; a man or a woman, probably older than 30 or so, with bodyguards lining the door outside of the bar and a appearing absolutely relaxed despite whatever they might be feeling. Usually they combated his suavity with subtle threats or deals, throwing things at him and trying to see what stuck.

Here, though, this young woman seemed to be struggling just to deal with his compliments. Honestly, it threw his guard off just a little, though he didn't let it show. He'd yet to run into a naive, innocent act of blushes and cute little stutters before. Had she drank a bit too much? Was she really so inexperienced, even with such a large network to her name? Did she want him to think either of those things in an effort to make him drop his guard? His own experience told him to beware the possibility of that last one, but he usually had a decent idea of what was a charade and how far it extended. This young woman seemed just as flustered as she appeared.

He wasn't sure whether to chuckle or to pat her on the back.

Nevertheless, he did indeed chuckle at her comment. "I see my gaming reputation precedes me." He spoke quietly enough for the woman across the table not to hear. "A shame, really. I would've liked to see how you run a deck, Miss." And yet, the Durese woman won yet another hand, raking in a whopping 3,000 credits this time. The doctor's bag seemed to grow smaller as her own pile of loot grew bigger, and boy, did she look like she was loving it.

But his companion finally got to the meat of it. "Ahhhhhhhh, now you're asking the right question." He held up a handful of thousand-credit pieces to show her, his green eyes glinting with mischief before carelessly tossing them into the pot of the next hand. "As I said, I am purely a man of academia. The cares and whims of the modern world, I trifle myself little with." He waved a hand dismissively, continuing.

"I care for politics, but only politics long-since resolved. I enjoy art, yet simply the art of the ancestors of ancestors. I enjoy beauty..." He glanced over at her as he lost the hand again. "... but prefer the beauty of legend." He mocked a sigh as he looked into his bag; his opponent had cleaned him out well enough to leave them both with about the same amount of credits. Mocking a shrug, he threw the bag onto the table, and even removed his hat, brushed it off, and placed it atop the sack of money. His opponent squinted at him for a moment before matching his bet with just about every credit she had. He seemed not to notice, continuing.

"So I would have you listen for things of ages past. I would have you listen for those who listen for the same, and those that try to see those things." He raised a brow at her just a smidge. "Treasure hunters, collectors, even Hutts who would kill an entire army just for an ancient vase. In return..." He grinned, putting on his smoothest, richest tone and speaking his last few words with an enormous smile. "... you will have my gratitude." He spoke in one part literal honest, two parts innuendo, and three parts hidden meaning, leaving it up to her as to which part she would pick up first.

[Azureth]

There were no casual tones to the way the broker observed both the game before her and her apparent client and his mannerisms. Nor was there any attempt at withdrawal from the situation, thinking it better not to bother with hiding her genuine curiosity from a man who had, after all, practically made his living seeing through bluffs. Eyes of electric blue flicked between the various going ons of the Zeltron's hand, his opponent's demeanor and of course the figure that was the doctor himself. The immediate attraction was still present of course, although pushed to the background with what willpower she had.

The ambience was much the same as it was upon entry, if a little rowdier. However Fierfek could practically feel her guards and their gaze upon her, from their various positions across the venue. Glancing around it was more than obvious they thought there was potential danger on the horizon.

Better safe than sorry, or so the saying seemed to go.

"Oh, my pazaak 'skills' leave a lot to be desired. Lady Luck hardly favours me in such matters," Fierfek spoke softly, watching loss after loss knowing full well that luck had very little to do with it. Merely a backdrop, a tool to set the tone for the grand illusion.

Or so suggested her reading material of late. Fierfek was nothing if not a studious girl, but there was nothing quite as fascinating as watching the subject at hand in action. He was everything she'd expected, and then some. The attraction was certainly unexpected, a feeling she was hardly used to. Academia was of course more pressing than such irrational responses, if the situation had allowed many questions would have left her lips. Exploits and stories to tell. If they'd met as Rase and Adriael she'd be bursting with responses to his fanciful words.

The words, they were prettier than the scoundrel-like strategy he intended to employ with his Durese opponent. Fierfek liked such pretty words, the romantic notion of academia pulling at her hardly used heartstrings in a wistful kind of way.

"Legend is indeed a beautiful commodity," she muttered distantly, averting his mischievous gaze under which her blush came too easily. "Those academic pursuits of yours are admirable, I will admit."

Shifting her legs, left leg over right, she leaned back into her chair a little, watching his apparent defeat with interest and taking in his words with caution. And that grin, the one that had caught her off guard so easily, seemed the brightest she'd seen it yet. Sending a fluster through her system, she held his gaze head on, attempting to overcome the charm that put the redness in her cheeks and the stutter to her voice.

As if a switch had flicked, a sense of true business came online. No time to let her guard down, or be taken aback. An eye for opportunity, Fierfek decided not to give into her immense curiosity just yet.

Surely Dr. Rase had something to offer more than a smile, otherwise surely he would not have elected to meet with her? Knowing her reputation as it is? Or rather, the reputation of her mentor. Shrewd she could be, when the mood allowed, and it was worth trying surely. To satisfy her curiosity in another way.

A plan was formulating, as she watched the move for all of nothing. A silent move, her eyes on Rase and Rase alone.

"Oh, for your gratitude I can certainly listen." Fierfek began, words preforming in her mind. "However, Doctor Hyul, if you'd perhaps had an ear closer to the present than the musings of the past you'd have gathered that gratitude is hardly an acceptable form of payment for the act of passing on the information."  No matter how fascinating the offer may be. "I am the best in the business at what I do. Perhaps not in intimidation, nor charm or the lies one needs to survive. But dear doctor, if it can be heard I shall hear it, or found I shall-" she spoke soft truths dressed in fancy clothes as a dance around a semblance of a bluff. Of course, the job piqued her interest, more of the spiel would have been send if not for the actions of the doctor. The removal of his hat from his head.

Snap. A fragment of her stranger nature came into play, transforming from the earnest business woman to wide eyes girl without so much as a second thought.

"Oh! You simply can't gamble away that   wonderful hat," she exclaimed, as his hat made its way onto the table, alongside the aging purple feather to which she'd identified him with.  Until that moment she'd hardly noticed how his hat had seemed a very part of his being, instead of some stylish accessory. Naturally, as she surreptitiously fished around in her pocket, she wondered how he'd come across it. There was likely a story, with men like Rase there always was. Whether true or fictional.

Carefully placing a thousand credit piece into her companion's pile with her lengthy fingers, she lifted his hat into her lap and rested her pale hands on it's top.

"Fair is fair, Doctor Hyul. Offer more than your gratitude and I shall match it with an open ear and loose tongue. And you might get your hat back," she said, attempting all seriousness with her deadpan gaze. Although slowly, amusement crept in.

"Should I put it on?" Adriael mused, toying with the feather as a smile crossed her full lips, which she turned to Rase. Looking through her long white lashes it was unintentionally coy and unexpectedly bright. Of all the things she'd expected to gain from the evening, fun was not on the list.

For better or worse, she was proving amused with herself.

[Fromikeable]

Finally, a thorn on the rose. At last, the young woman seemed to grow a back bone, her blush dissipating in favor of prose and form suiting the reputation that he'd contacted her to see. Rase hadn't believed for a moment that there was nothing more to the infamous Fierfek than a cutesy girl he could beguile and cheat with ease. No one became an information broker that large and with that sort of network by being a rose without thorns, no matter how they'd come into the business.

And so indeed she was finally down to business. She even took his hat. That made him smile. "I do believe you should. The feather rather suits your eyes." Better snug on her head than in the greasy paws of his opponent.

Not letting his grin falter even remotely, his ears perked at the sound of her voice. He rather liked this new Fierfek, or, perhaps it was to say that he liked this actual Fierfek. Information dealers could be even worse than he was; he'd known some to speak in riddles, some to think themselves gods, some to do both in an over-the-top act of pretentious superiority, and some to be so terribly underwhelming that it was a wonder that they were still alive.

Her, though... straight to business. No nonsense. He could easily excuse the blushing, inexperienced act (or whatever particular affliction had ailed her up until now, if she had been genuine then) now that he was being given a sharp mind to duel with.

"What state has the galaxy declined to in which a man's word of his future, genuine gratitude is considered nill?" Still grinning, he chuckled at her, his green eyes flickering a little in the light as they both highlighted his amusement and also pierced her own gaze, very clearly showing he was as sharp as he was smooth. His Durese opponent, meanwhile, drew her cards with an air of superiority akin to those other, disappointing brokers, sitting smugly at a final count of 19. The Zeltron didn't seem to notice.

"Alas, what else could a humble academic with, as you so put it, 'admirable pursuits', possibly have to offer to such big ears and such a loose tongue?" He made the tiniest wink, as if to nod to the tiny innuendo of his words. Before he could continue, however, they were interrupted by the dealer of the table, who was clearing his voice loudly in annoyance.

"Sir? Your draw, please."

The crimson doctor mocked a very large sigh, rubbing his cheek in a disappointed, defeated sigh. "If I must." Slender crimson fingers hovered forward, resting atop his pazaak deck and lazily, slowly peeling off the top card, revealing it to both himself and his conversant before placing it on the table with what seemed to be absolutely no interest. His attention was much more clearly on her.

"I must say, though, I found my offer very fair. Gratitude comes in many forms, my dear." The first card was a 6.

"For such big ears, I could tell many, many secrets of my own. I dare say I could even find a few beyond reach of the usual interloper." The second card was another 6. "My gratitude has a knack for digging up things long forgotten..."

"Or for such a loose tongue, I could help make a few... misgivings among my more governmental colleagues easily find themselves rushing away with water under the bridge." He grinned one last time, throwing in a devilish curl in his lips as he drew the third card, showing it to her without looking at it himself as he added. "My gratitude could be a red little devil, whispering forgetfulness in their ears." He made sure his addition was spoken with a particularly rich tone, demonstrating just how convincing he could sound.

The third card was, of course, a six. He set it down on the table, then shifted his deck in front of her, beckoning with those same slender fingers. He mocked another sigh as a he looked upon the three 6's lined up before the dealer. "My, such rotten luck. I might as well make a last attempt." He shook his head, flicking his green eyes at his Durese opponent, who was clearly not impressed. She still had a score of 19, and unless the next card out of his deck was a 2 to make the 20, the Durese woman would still be walking away with every credit on the table.

He tapped the deck. "Would you perhaps do me the honor?"

[Azureth]

The game seemed to grow in intensity, however it seemed that the broker held the attention of her caller. Bad for the playing of pazaak, but admittedly best for luck in other matters. Stimulating conversation never hurt anyone, or maybe it did, but that seems of little consequence regarding our Fierfek. Who listened with a half smile, as the games began.

"You know well what state the world is in, I assume. Perhaps wrongly? Is your mind still in tune with your ancient findings?" she questioned, managing to sound dry and disillusioned all at once. Two such things she rarely expressed. Although don't misinterpret, she was quite enjoying the words of the good doctor. The lecture on gratitude, and it's many forms.

Not often were they simply games. Most times the stakes were life, death even. A minefield of words.

With Rase it seemed more a lost jungle, secrets to discover and vines to cut. Then again, Adriael always did have a strange perception of things.

One is said to find what is lost in the places they least expect. Lost, and forgotten. Both were the act of a genuine smile to Fierfek, a smile to light up her face. With a spark in the eyes. Perhaps a ghost of the act graced her face upon an amusing read, or the answer of a truly nagging question.

But to feel and find the full blown reality of, space forbid, a real smile. In the midst of a deplorable tavern with a slightly disreputable doctor, over a sharp-witted exchange of words and a hat? Perhaps she was in the right field after all.

Using her left, and dominant, hand, she gently placed the lovely hat upon her head, electric blues not leaving Dr. Rase as she did so. There was indeed something. About him. Drawing her out of melancholy, intriguing her more than she's have liked to admit. What it was, was a mystery. But it was something. Whether strangely marvelous or the sound of warning bells, it couldn't be deciphered. Yet.

At last, a soul who could duel with words. Such pretty words.

A light hum, as she considered the moves of her opponent, eyes flicking to the hoard of last bets. A raised eyebrow, as the realization of her decision sunk in. Another smile.

It couldn't hurt to keep playing.

"It never does hurt to have the whisper of a devil on your side, I fear they flock in droves to the shepards of secrets. Lovely crooners of falsities they are, it cannot be denied," she began, her attention again on the Zeltron before her, features matching her words. Lips relaxed with neutrality, posture as stiff as ever. Her eyes, however, still held that spark, growing brighter as she continued. Unable to hold back a ghost of a smile.

"I don't fancy you a devil, dear doctor, although I acknowledge the merits of your whisper. The testimonies of your victims seem to say as much, fools that they were," she continued, the slight tugging of a smirk at her lips. All of the women he had so whispered to, it's not as if he'd gone to an effort to hide such exploits. And the ones he had...it could be assumed she knew. "Although it is hardly my position to judge."

The offshoot always knew too much. Or not enough. Or exactly what she needed to know. It was all up to perspective.

When the daring doctor offered her the last card of the game, she could hardly resist. The young woman regained an air of innocence, her usual air, her hand moving closer to the deck, a tinge hesitant. Her lips were of legend, not so her fortune.

"You'd trust my luck? I wouldn't," she said, a truth as her hand hovered above the deck. 'But, I suppose the honor is mine."

It wasn't a two. There was no way, in all of cosmic possibility that it could ever have been a two. Fierfek knew this, her touch was hardly lucky. Unless Rase perhaps had performed a sleight of hand, but she had been watching. Surely, she would have noticed.

Hardly mattered. With two long, white fingers and a thumb she sealed the metaphorical deal, eyes closed as she did so.

Open, as it hit the table.

"A flip card?" she questioned, recalling the card from the depths of her mind. And there it was, straight up, a 3 and 6 flip card. Which brought the Rase's total down to zero, if she recalled correctly. "I am not sure whether such a card is a service or disservice. But there you have it. My luck, Doctor Rase," she said, looking around the table. The dealers hatred of his job was plain to see, the opponent's intensity something she didn't linger on long.

Her gaze was, unsurprisingly, for Rase and Rase alone. As she considered her next move, in a game that was not pazaak. A game that the doctor had already won. Or perhaps that was looking at it in a limited manner. There was no winning. Only, a spread of interesting outcomes, the best ones benefited them both.