Era Victoria IC

Under his mask, Chirurgeon smiled wryly and went back in Dahlia's direction, settling into a seat and pulling out a small flask filled with a vaguely medicinal looking liquid, that he took a quick sip from. "Not a fan of caffeine."

Crystalite wrote:"Physician, heal thyself," Battery retorted as he got in line to order. "I'm sure you smelled nice in your day too."

The imposing figure of The Battery manages to prevent most ponies from trying to push him aside so he gets to the front of the line with relative ease.

Paper Shadow wrote:Dahlia goes off to find a table for the three to sit at...

AleneShazam wrote:Under his mask, Chirurgeon smiled wryly and went back in Dahlia's direction, settling into a seat and pulling out a small flask, filled with a vaguely medicinal looking liquid, that he took a quick sip from. "Not a fan of caffeine."

There are no actual tables on the ground floor but, up a staircase there is a sitting area that is empty save for a circle of five ponies in black suits smoking as they look over newspapers.

"The coatrack's to your left. Feel free to take the chair behind the counter."

The earth pony offered this seat, as it was currently the only one present, his business leaving little need nor actual room for additional furniture of this kind. Chrome didn't mind giving it up, as he actually yearned for stretching his bones after what he had presumed just a few minutes ago to be the end of his shift. He actually doubted for the conversation to last long enough to make him wish to reclaim his little throne, but if the need were to arise, he could always get the second one, if a bit more archaic, situated deeper in the shop... essentially, being his humble house.

"Name's Chrome Drive. Do you prefer black or green?"

The owner of this building, having set down the water-filled kettle above the fire, began walking around the place, gathering ingredients for tea and tools for the commission alike. Despite how funny could it've looked for the tea set to arrive alongside some cogs and spoons in hand with pincers, there was little ruckus to the earth pony's actions. One could tell they ticked like a well-oiled machine, almost as if they were practiced to be carried out in that specific order. Calm, balanced steps and no looking around proved just that, as Chrome opened one shelf after another and repeatedly pulled out just what he needed. His mind was focused. That humble, enclosed space was his territory and he knew all too well how to navigate within it.

As he was gathering the materials, he put together their cost, adding it to the time and effort needed to realize the request, alongside the skill necessary to carry out the task. As the amount of money involved as payment sounded as something out of his league, he tried to appraise the real value of the service he was providing.*

*Mechanics check: 23 + d20 (3) = 26

The dragon stepped up to the counter as his turn came along. "Morning. I need a large cupful of hot and bitter. Spoonful of spice if you have it, no problem if you don't," Battery asked politely, dropping a couple of bits on the counter.

Dahlia stops puts a leg out in front of Chirurgeon to stop him as well. He gives a quick flick of his head to the suited ponies. "Think that they're Buffalo?" whispers Dahlia...

Chirurgeon narrowed his eyes, trying to discern the allegiance of the suits. He had treated enough street thugs to figure out which hole they crawled out of.

*Streetwise: 11 + 10 = 21

Despite the walk taking a bit longer than he thought, Smooth Talker arrived back at his place without any further incidents. Taking care not to wake any of the other tenants¹, he picked up his mail² and moved into his room. Tossing the stack on the table, Smooth Talker closed whatever curtains he had, neatly folded his vest and hung a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his doorknob. That last thing was something he had begun to do a couple of weeks ago. While it wasn't completely foolproof, it did lessen the amount of noise the other tenants on his floor would make in passing by. Plus it gave off the impression that he was, indeed, working on something.

After mentally reviewing everything that had happened the past night (and jotting down some notes), Smooth Talker climbed into bed and closed his eyes. Mornings really weren't his thing.
--------------------------------------
¹ Other tenants or neighbours or something. I'd imagine Smooth Talker doesn't have a house of his own but rather rents a room in the Victorean equivalent of an apartment. Feel free to fill in the other tenants and landlord or landlady.

² Make of this what you will. Though not necessary, it's just a fun detail for world building.

Terrestial wrote:"The coatrack's to your left. Feel free to take the chair behind the counter."

The earth pony offered this seat, as it was currently the only one present, his business leaving little need nor actual room for additional furniture of this kind. Chrome didn't mind giving it up, as he actually yearned for stretching his bones after what he had presumed just a few minutes ago to be the end of his shift. He actually doubted for the conversation to last long enough to make him wish to reclaim his little throne, but if the need were to arise, he could always get the second one, if a bit more archaic, situated deeper in the shop... essentially, being his humble house.

"Name's Chrome Drive. Do you prefer black or green?"

The owner of this building, having set down the water-filled kettle above the fire, began walking around the place, gathering ingredients for tea and tools for the commission alike. Despite how funny could it've looked for the tea set to arrive alongside some cogs and spoons in hand with pincers, there was little ruckus to the earth pony's actions. One could tell they ticked like a well-oiled machine, almost as if they were practiced to be carried out in that specific order. Calm, balanced steps and no looking around proved just that, as Chrome opened one shelf after another and repeatedly pulled out just what he needed. His mind was focused. That humble, enclosed space was his territory and he knew all too well how to navigate within it.

As he was gathering the materials, he put together their cost, adding it to the time and effort needed to realize the request, alongside the skill necessary to carry out the task. As the amount of money involved as payment sounded as something out of his league, he tried to appraise the real value of the service he was providing.*

*Mechanics check: 23 + d20 (3) = 26

"Chanteuse" places her cloak upon the coat rack before taking up the offered chair. "I like it black, and it is a pleasure to met you Mr. Drive."

The real value of the work and the offered price just don't match up, the parts are common enough to not really effect the price, the skill while greater than what most amateurs would possess any clock-maker or mechanic would be able to do, the work and the sheer amount of time it would take contribute the most to the price but even then the price would be around two or three hundred but not the thousand offered. Thinking a bit more on it normally a job like this would be given a full week or even two so, the tightness of the deadline would be ample justification for marking up the price by two or three times but that still leaves quite the gap...

Crystalite wrote:The dragon stepped up to the counter as his turn came along. "Morning. I need a large cupful of hot and bitter. Spoonful of spice if you have it, no problem if you don't," Battery asked politely, dropping a couple of bits on the counter.

"Two fo a cuppa on' fo spice." The coffee pony takes the bits and rapidly returns with a mug filled with thick black coffee with some vaguely orange spice floating on top.

AleneShazam wrote:Chirurgeon narrowed his eyes, trying to discern the allegiance of the suits. He had treated enough street thugs to figure out which hole they crawled out of.

*Streetwise: 11 + 10 = 21

Chirurgeon can't make out the details of the three ponies furthest away from him due to newspapers in the way but judging from the relative ages and builds three are parents or mentors while the other two are of college age and would fall into the normal age for the Buffalo gang. As one on the side lowers their paper to take a sip of coffee Chirurgeon can see a small band of turquoise beads hanging from young stallion's neck a common accessory of the Buffalo gang but nothing definitive.

"Thanks," he says, taking the cup carefully and heading upstairs, sipping at it gingerly as he fell in next to Chirurgeon.

"They had better not be what I think they are," he mutters over the cup as he spares the suited ponies a glance.

Chirurgeon shrugged, eyeing the group covertly. It was easy to do so under the mask, but he made an effort to keep his vision centered on the table anyway. "Can't tell for sure. One of them has the buffalo beads, but it might be a coincidence."

"Bollocks," he cursed under his breath as he sipped at his coffee. "Let's sit down... Hopefully they'll leave us be this morning. Already spent all night on it," he mumbled as he sat down at the nearest empty table.

Dahlia joins the Battery at the table and asks in a hushed voice "Are you sure you don't want to just leave? I don't want to have to deal with Death Breaths right now."

"Why not?" Battery says quietly, lest he is overheard. "Don't you know you're supposed to start the day by getting shot in the shoulder?" he says teasingly.

That situation was almost as dangerous as fighting with an entire Zebra's comando!
He quickly realized that it might be a trap.
Barman never looked suspicious to him, but after making such a horrible mistake he will pay for that... humiliation.

Oirik focused and gritted his teeth. That may hurt a lot but it might be worth a shot.
Using his horn magic at maximum he stretched his diaphragm muscles and  squished his entire upper digestive innards and thrown up into the barkeeper's ugly face.

"This will distract him for a moment" - he whispered to himself. Time to get outta here quickly!

"The bread was stale anyway"
He tried to walk away from tavern as quickly and stealthy as he could. Vomiting at barkeeper was only for some minor distraction. What he really enjoyed about escaping from place like this was crowds of hungry, drunk, angry ponies. Easy way to lose any chase.

"Pleasure's mine... Mrs Chanteuse?

Chrome ended the statement in a questioning manner and put a stress over the last two words, apparently inquiring indirectly whether that was the right way to address the mare, as he clearly knew nothing about her social standing and the wise. It crossed his mind briefly that the word he's been provided with may've been not an actual name, but a working alias. Would anypony willingly legitimate oneself as credible, using a nickname in such a formal environment though? Doubtful... yet it could've stuck on its own. Who was most likely to gain an informal title like this, thoroughly recognized in the first place though? Either the superiors, being the talk of the ones beneath them, or ponies, seen often due to serving in a multitude of places. Chrome betted on the latter; however, he accounted for the fact that the so-called "Chanteuse" might've not been a regular errand filly, but a personal attendant to the needs of the aformentioned Stargazer, whose servant's name simply stuck on everypony's lips due to increased activity during the most recent days. Could it've been that an important event of sorts was taking place with guests from afar? If Stargazer were indeed classified as such and "Chanteuse" came along with her, the current state of affairs would be fairly easy to explain. One could point out being accustomed to different prices and having a fixed budget for the journey as reasons for presenting outright the amount of money offered. Meanwhile, the apparent hurry of the mare in front of Chrome could've been due to not knowing the city thoroughly enough as to warrant going to a trusted mechanic yet. Moreover, the poor unicorn, would have been recognized by the ones at the administration building, willingly or not, due to being all over the place for the time being.

Nonetheless, it's not as though that was the only viable hypothesis...

"It's quite an interesting piece of technology that you've brought."

By this time, Chrome's brought the remaining accessories, along with an additional chair for himself. Having moved it up to the counter, he adjusted it to sit opposite to the mare and made himself comfortable there. Between them, on the rather vast, flat space of the wooden piece of furniture was placed quite a number of items, mostly of little size, ranging from the cups through screwdrivers to oil brushes and tea bags. From out of this diverse bundle, Chrome fished out a pair of spoons as well as a small jar of processed honey and scooping up a little with one of the former from out of the latter, proceeded to put it into his mouth. It was just enough to tingle one's senses with a hint of sweetness before the incoming wave of bitterness to be... it looked as though the source of which - namely, the tea, was still far from being done, as the water was just beginning to heat up. Hence, Chrome fixed his gaze on the mare and gave her his attention for now.

"One rarely thinks of divination when dealing with administration, don't you think?"

The stallion wondered - just who and for what reason, would be likely to carry around and make use of such a sophisticated, if slightly esotheric, customized tool? Surely, there were no important government issues being solved using such questionable means... were they?*

*Streetwise check: 8 + d20 (1) = Critical failure

Crystalite wrote:"Why not?" Battery says quietly, lest he is overheard. "Don't you know you're supposed to start the day by getting shot in the shoulder?" he says teasingly.

Chirurgeon shifted, glancing again uneasily. "I'd rather not have to treat two gun wounds in one morning, but if you're sure..." He sat down, pulling out a myriad of small flasks that he started to mix together into a concoction that he downed rather hastily.

Oirik manages to escape from the barkeep and run out into the streets. Quickly he is able to make himself scarce within a crowd of workers on their way to a factory, effectively losing any pursuit. Within Oirik's vest there is still one poster that wasn't ruined...

---

"Pleasure's mine... Mrs Chanteuse?

"Chanteuse" stiffens at Chrome's questioning tone, " You are quite the fine individual Mr. Drive. Now, I believe I neglected to mention something rather important, it is our mutual best interest that word does not get around of this."

"It's quite an interesting piece of technology that you've brought."

"Yes, it is quite the beautiful device a blackened room set alight by the stars is simply breath taking." She says starting to relax once more.

One rarely thinks of divination when dealing with administration, don't you think?"

"Chanteuse" breaks out in a small fit of giggles at Chrome's question as if he just stumbled into a private joke, eventually she regains her composure and replys. " The building is used for other purposes because no administrating will ever take place there."
Divination isn't something that Chrome has ever even thought of except in passing but he has heard rumors that the lords of Parliament will refuse to do anything that clashes with their horoscopes...

---

As one of the younger suited ponies lowers their paper to take a drink he inadvertently catches sight of The Battery, Chirurgeon, and Dahlia... for a moment it looks like he smiled...

Chirurgeon calmly packed away his supplies and leaned back, patiently waiting for the Battery to finish while toying idly with a scalpel. "Guess we were just being paranoid then." He said quietly.

"Well, who would want to, at this hour? We don't exactly look like pushovers," Battery pointed out as he drank, reveling in the warmth of the liquid and the bite of the spice.

"Paranoid or aware?" murmurs Dahlia. "We should just go. I don't trust Chimneys."

"So go," Battery says calmly and smoothly. "Nobody's stopping you. But I'm going to drink my coffee first." He takes another sip thoughtfully. "Actually yeah, you should totally go. Might lighten the mood in here."

Chirurgeon looks to Dahlia. "I'm... inclined to agree with you, but leaving hastily would raise suspicions if we're being watched. When Battery is done, my professional opinion would be to leave in a calm and orderly manner."

The dragon winced at the mention of his name. "Doc, don't say that word out loud," he whispered.

"If we're being watched, what difference does suspicion make? They're waiting for us to do something first." Dahlia fidgets with the small barrel around his neck to make sure he's got supplies in case things go south for him. "Just hurry up, alright?" he continue to mumbles...

Chirurgeon frowns under his mask. "Ah... apologies. It was been too long since I was... personally endangered to any extent."