the_lioness | (no subject)

Oops. A bit too late, Peter trips.

Ack, Peter. *Alanna quickly abandons his hand and wraps her arm around his waist in an attempt to steady him.* Are you alright?

Peter just laughs a little, rubbing his shin before straightening up. "I'm fine. Just a bruised ego."

*As he straightens, she stands on her toes and kisses him again.*

I won't be able to do that for awhile. *She smiles.* I'm sorry. I should have said something before we left the bar. If it helps any, I did that not too long ago. It used to be less messy down here, but I think George got worried about other people finding the door. Stay there for a minute.

*Biting her lip, Alanna moves forward and finds the cellar door. She tugs on the handle, and it swings open easily. Warm light fills the cellar and the sound of laughter, music and general carousing reaches their ears. She shakes her hand, the violet light disappearing.*

Sounds like a busy evening.

"That's okay. I assumed we wouldn't be able to." It was just enough to be here with her. Peter squints out the door, and his breath catches at all the sights.

He'd never even really imagined.

*Alanna snickers, whispering before they set foot in the Dove proper.*

I just meant I was taking advantage of it while I could.

*And just like that, Alanna schools her features and focuses on the task at hand. Nodding, she straightens her cloak and leads the way down a back corridor. She pauses before reaching the main room, eyes alert as she sweeps the crowd of rowdy thieves and women. She can feel Peter at her back, and says a silent prayer to the Goddess to keep him safe.

Glancing at the fire, she's almost relieved to see that George isn't sprawled in his customary spot. She does, however, spy Lightfingers deep in his cups. Grinning, she moves forward until she's sure 'Fingers can see her lurking in the shadows and smiles slowly. The thief thumps his tankard on the table and strides over.*

...Alan? What are ye doin'? George isn't here. *He eyes Peter and flashes a grin comprised of far less teeth than it should have.*

*Alanna ignores his question.* This is Peter. Peter, Lightfingers.

"Hello." Peter just can't repress his curiousity, not in this place. If it drives him to danger and possibly insanity, well... Alanna'll be there to catch him, won't she? "How'd you earn that name?"

*'Fingers snorts and looks him up and down, mentally assessing the value of his clothes and the dagger he spies on his right side.*

I don't see a coin purse on ye, or I'd be happy ta demonstrate. Did the lass not tell ye what Court ye where enterin'?

*Alanna utters a growl of warning and the thief looks questioningly at her.* Well, it's not like ye haven't brought clueless folk here before. *He grins at Peter again.* Welcome ta' the Dove. Ale?

*Relaxing slightly, Alanna nods.* We'll join you for a drink, 'Fingers. I need to ask a few favors anyway. Lead on.

*She smiles at Peter over her shoulder and follows the thief with her head held high.*

Clueless. Peter won't even bother to get annoyed at that; it was true, wasn't it? He follows Alanna, staring curiously at everything around them. That woman behind the bar looks rather, uh... in need of a modern day bra.

*Some thieves stare curiously at them, some ignore them altogether. The ones that recognize Alanna, or Alan, lift their tankards in greeting as they pass. The ladies that follow the Rogue openly gawk at them, and more than one is a bit too interested in Peter for Alanna's comfort. Sighing, she sits down opposite Lightfingers. A woman thumps ale down before them and Alanna smiles thinly at her. For Peter's sake, she isn't giving him more than the occasional glance.*

'Fingers, I'm going to be returning for a week or so shortly. I need to keep my visit secret until I'm ready for it to be public knowledge that I'm home. Can you have two horses, good ones mind you, and food for several days on the open road ready to go this upcoming Monday?

Er... I really want to keep this under wraps.

*Her eyes plead with him. He looks at her for a long moment and nods.*

Shouldn't be a problem. So, Peter lad. Friend o' George?

Peter lifts the cup and sniffs at it, before taking an experimental sip. The look on his face probably communicates well that he feels this was a mistake, and he lets the drink thump back down, a little bit of the liquid sloshing out.

Wiping his hand off on his pants, it takes a moment to realize someone talked to him. "What...? Oh... uh." Peter blinks. "I know him."

*Alanna looks a bit panicked.*

He does, yes. We're all grand friends. George, Johnny... all of us. Now, perhaps we should leave you to your fun this evening. *She grins wickedly.* Someone needs to keep the lasses entertained.

*'Fingers snorts and whacks her on the back. To Alanna's credit, she barely flinches.*

Never could figure out why ye didn't hang around down here with the wenches the way yer friend Johnny did. *He wheezes in an alarming fashion and Alanna makes a vaguely tortured sound.* Right. Next Monday. Two 'orses and food. I'm good for it, if ye take a thief's word.

*Thanking him, Alanna raises an eyebrow at Peter and quickly leads him outside, smiling at the woman behind the bar. Once they exit, Alanna takes a deep, relieved breath and laughs shortly.*

Goddess, I forgot how cursed smoky it is in tehre. *She grins at Peter.* Having fun yet?

To his credit, even though this place is shorting out Peter's ability to manipulate and play things so he appears to be a local native? He doesn't snicker at that little comment about the ladies. At least until the guy's out of earshot.

"Of course. Ladykiller."

*Lips twitching, Alanna stops and looks up, carefully adjusting her stance so they look like two male friends chatting in the street - no more, no less.*

You would be surprised. Lady Delia could barely keep her hands off me. *She makes a face.* Actually, that hasn't much changed. Anyway! *She grins recklessly and turns to the left, lengthening her strides as she walks.* We're in the lower city now, not too far from the marketplace. I figured I would take you there, and to the Temple District. *She pauses, smiling absently at a flower girl.* Do you want to see the palace?

Two males friends, just chatting on the street. Mostly. Maybe one of them's a little gay, because Peter can't help looking at her fondly.

"Lady Delia? What?" He needs to hear this story, apparently. "And... -yes-." Palace. Whoa.

*Alanna drops the pretense for a split second and looks at him just as fondly... until he asks about Delia. She makes another face - rather like she just ate something sour - and keeps walking.*

She kisses me all the time. Well, not recently. Come to think of it, she hasn't been that bad since the night I told her I lo... *She snickers.* That I am rather fond of you. You're such a good friend and all. *Eyes dancing with humor, she looks at him askance.* Anyway, she did it to irritate me, I'm sure.

*They cross into the marketplace, the sinking sun casting shadows here and there. It gives on the overwhelming impression of color, of life, and is full of interesting people, animals, sounds and smells. Alana breathes deeply, an odd look upon her face. This is familiar, and home, but at the same time she feels as though she's just a visitor. It's an odd sensation.

Street vendors call out to them, hawking their wares, and Alanna turns to Peter with a grin.*

Explore, Peter. I'm following you now.

"Either to irritate you, or show love." Peter bets the latter. He doesn't know Delia, but who -wouldn't- want to show love for Alanna? He's just glad she's stopped. (nonotjealousatallnocough.)

"You.. are you sure?"

*Alanna laughs throatily, examining a tall pyramid of oranges at a fruit seller's stand.*

Love? I would pay you one hundred gold nobles - no, not you. What kind of oranges do you think you're selling? - to repeat that to her. *She smiles at Peter, tossing him an orange.* Two, please. No, she hates me. I took her playthings away from her, you see.

*After paying for the fruit, she returns to his side and nods.*

Of course. The marketplace is yours to explore. Just tell me when you get bored and we will continue on.

"Then I'll repeat it to her. Even if I have no clue what gold thingamajigs are." Peter snickers. "I have the feeling if you're gonna pay that, it'll be interesting."

He pauses, then raises an eyebrow as he peels at the orange. "Her playthings?"

Oh, it would be interesting alright. She'd probably act as though you've offended her delicate sensibilities, make some vague innuendo about me and then try to seduce you.

*She frowns.* On second thought, I'll pay you one hundred gold nobles not to ask her.

*Sectioning the orange, Alanna stops and pulls Peter out of the main thoroughfare. She eats one, two wedges, eyes locked on his, and finally murmurs a few names that she hopes he will understand. Jon's name is left out, although he initially started the animosity.*

Roger, Josiane, Alex... Thom, to some extent.

Peter blinks. "She certainly sounds... like an interesting sort of person." Probably be safest to talk to her with five feet between them at all times.

"Thom? But Thom..." Peter looks confused.

Thom was part of their little group. *Alanna scowls, chucking the orange peel over her shoulder.* He resurrected Roger because Delia dared him too, and Roger had knowledge he wanted. Granted, Roger began sucking his Gift away, and Thom... burnt up, but he still associated with them.

"So he got into a bad crowd." Somehow, this didn't surprise Peter that much. Disappointed, yes, but not surprisd. "And is he now?"

That was a hard question to ask.

*Alanna quirks an eyebrow.* You do remember our conversation about Lucifer? *She sighs, motioning toward the road with her head. There's no sense in staying in one place too long and providing one's enemies with a stationary target. Weaving through the crowd, she lowers her voice.* He has these tendencies. Roger is... reclusive now, which worries me. Goddess knows what he's up to. But Thom found a new Roger, it seems.

Peter follows, and stares at all the things around them; with them moving, it's hard to keep his attention undivided. Damnit. "Why does he have to do that?"