A Dreary Day in Muggidrear

[Ladorak]

"Well..." Saunders retracted the pipe from his mouth and blew another gray wreath around his face. "If you hid his body, you wouldn't be sending much of a message, as you just said. By send a message... I mean SEND a message." Saunders iterated now. "Make sure Sixtus knows his contact has been eliminated."

"Oh and don't get caught... if that happens, we'll deny any knowledge of you... though that of course should go without saying." Saunders said softly. "We do very well to cover our tracks... but I'm sure you do as well."

"So... any questions before you set out?" Saunders asked, looking at Jack in profile now to make it appear as if they weren't having a full on discussion.

[ninjasquirrel1]

OOC>Yes I changed the species of the bartender but I planned on doing something later in this character's story with her and I always found attractions between opposite species to be weird.

“Don't worry,” the switchblade clicked shut, “I'll send a message.” Oh yes, he would definitely make sure Sixtus knew he was dead. Due to the nature of the objective, it would have to be an obvious murder; but with a sick uniqueness.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah we'll disavow all knowledge of you. I get it,” interrupted Jack with a haughty tone as he began to pass Saunders now. Paws in pockets, he stopped; turning to face the ferret he tipped his bowler hat to him. Water dribbled down Jack's paw and he flicked it dry at the store window and returned his paw to his pocket.

“No questions needed. He'll die. Don't worry.” Droplets cascaded around him as he spun around and continued on down the street, leaving Saunders behind. His paw steps were lively and stronger than usual, the gray day had been left behind by Jack. He had a job. Lightning pulsed through his eyes as the coming thrill of the hunt spread over him like a wild fire. Paws clenched, a smile on his face, he glanced over at Orie's Pub as he passed it. Through the glass and crowd a perfect path lay and like magnets his eyes locked with the bartender's, the weasel that had served them their drinks. He knew her name, he had heard it multiple times thrown across the room in heartfelt greetings, farewells and eager desires for more beverages. Maggie was her name, the daughter of Orie, the establishment's owner. She had a certain quiet grace that often caught Jack's attention but he never paid much thought to her as his mind was usually drowned in the fire of drink and plotting. But with the recent lull in work, he really had nothing to think about and would sit for hours; only ordering a few drinks and observing the people around him. Jack was full of pride for his work but for obvious reasons never boasted about himself unless it was to other like minded individuals, like Saunders. In public he was quiet and unnoticeable, a ghost on the sidelines. It was this very thing that made him a natural at what he did. Nothing about him, his appearance, voice nor manner were noteworthy and yet always Maggie's eyes seemed to be drawn to him, perhaps she was curious as to who he was.

A blurred black object and the cold splash of water onto Jack broke the gaze. Paws tried to no avail to brush the water off of him and he watched in anger as the carriage rushed down the cobble stone road. When it turned the corner Jack found himself searching for Maggie's gaze again but could not find her amid the hub bub of the tavern. Once again, he set off down the street with paws in pocket, his recent fire extinguished.