HERE WE STAND;

The bar was quiet and he supposed that it might have appealed to some because of that. But it was all a little too calm for him when despite years of regimented living, he’d never been able to shake off his desire for the unpredictable. Maybe it was because he spent all of his days either following orders or giving them that in his spare time he wanted nothing more than to cause a little chaos. All in good fun, of course. Keen gaze darted around the room searching for someone he could pull into a little game before eventually he settled on the person nearest him. No time like the present. Leaning along the bar slightly, he posed a question with a devilish glint in his eye. “Hey, you fancy a little bet?”

——————————————————————————————

Her eyes had been trained on the man since her eyes caught him walking in the door, although her job of surveillance had become even easier when he had chosen a seat so close to her.  Close enough that for a moment, she thought she had been made.  They were currently enveloped in the eerie calm after one storm before the next, and Dacey, among with her other corporals found themselves tailing and detailing some of the high ranking members of other syndicates.  Taking note of where they went, how long they liked to spend there, just in case the Wolf Kings made the decision to strike back at those who had tried to do them harm on the fateful night of the wedding.  --- As the man, the consigliere leaned over to her, a look on her face that made her uneasy, her first instinct was to respond with a jab of not wanting to owe the Iron Bank a debt, as they all knew how that turned out.  But figured in case he had no clue who she was, to keep it neutral.  Cloaks and daggers, she was good at the latter, not so much the former.  “Depends, is it a bet I can win?”

                                ❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

After a particularly long morning at work she knew that nothing would lift her spirits again quite like a milkshake from The Diner. So she’d made her way there, determined to get her guilty pleasure but when a large shape interrupted her path she found herself pausing. She had always had a soft spot for all animals but dogs especially and without fail she would stop for each and every one she saw. Granted in this scenario she didn’t have a lot of choice but that didn’t make her any less pleased to see the animal. “Don’t worry about it.” Smile was bright, flashed at the woman as she waved a way the apology. Seconds later her gaze was on the dog again - Bear she thought she’d heard him called - and she practically cooed her next words. “There’s no reason to apologise for this gorgeous boy. Is he friendly?” Soft steps closer were taken before she held her hand out with gentle grace for the dog to familiarise himself with her.

Brow raised as she glanced up to listen to the brunette. “Oh really?” Smile tugged at her lips, flickers of mischief dancing in doe eyes. Attention turned back to Bear, speaking directly to him the same way she would speak to her own. “Should I go get some fries so you come home with me, hmm?” 

——————————————————————————————

Dacey was a bit surprised the woman’s fairly congenial nature about it all, many times had Dacey gotten the ‘karen’ treatment from people who dressed and looked like the woman in front of her, telling her to keep her ‘damn dog away from them’ and those who after seeing a dog of his size and breed simply scream as if he were attacking them despite simply looking up at them with his large, droopy eyes.  As she drew closer, Dacey recognized the face in front of her, a woman known far and wide for her seemingly cordial personality, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been as surprised.  

“As long as you don’t come at me with a knife or anything, yes.” The words were spoken as a joke but also a warning.  It was the truth, her dog much preferred to kill someone with cuddles, but when he felt his owner was being threatened, could do it in much more unpleasant ways.  She had only seen it once, when an old flame had thought surprising her in her dark apartment was a good idea (they had spent the night in the ER, getting an odd hundred stitches or so).  “I wish I could say confidently that he would stick by my side even with fries in the offering, but I can’t.” She chuckled.  “So, Jolene, Jolene, please don’t take my man, just because you can.”

merry bends her neck, right then left, bouncing a little on her toes. she usually avoids fighting gyms - someone might recognise her style, or realise she’s too good just to be a regular attendee. but she’s been itching for a fight for a while now. she hasn’t been in a good one for far too long. the sound of a voice, accusatory and distrustful, makes her turn. she can’t help an arrogant little grin at the words. “am i not allowed to check the place out?” the woman must be dacey mormont. she’s seen her around these parts of town, heard that the owner of this gym is one hell of a fighter. heard about the family she supposedly serves. “it’d take quite a lot to turn me into a punching bag, doll. i was just hoping to join one of your classes, see if the hype lives up to the reality.”

——————————————————————————————

Sharp eyes ran over the woman, scanning for any physical attributes she might recognize from previous encounters or tales of violence.  These days, unless Dacey knew them personally, she was paranoid of everyone.  The last time she had let her guard down, thought all was well in the land of crime, the wedding massacre had happened.  The Wolf Kings hadn’t lost anyone, although not for lack of trying on the opposition’s part, but that had just been luck, and Dacey was eager not to repeat the experience, and found herself vigilant at all times of the day.  “Depends,” she started, answering vaguely “You actually here to check it out or are you doing recon?” She questioned.  While she had no proof of the woman’s identity, never having actually seen the person she suspected her to be, Dacey had her suspicions, and while the Wolf Kings and Citadel weren’t enemies by any means, neither were they on friendly terms.  “Well, stick around for the beginner’s class to end in 15 minutes and you can see.---Advanced Krav Maga, and I’m teaching.”  It certainly was an invitation, but to what exactly was the question.

While Dacey typically liked to eat cleaner, more whole foods (high grade gas to power the machine, and what not), once a week, after teaching her highest level Krav Maga class, she always found herself in the same place: outside the diner, ass on the curb, indulging in a carton of fries and a strawberry milkshake.  Bear, her ever present, trusty sidekick also tended to enjoy these days, as he always got the bits and pieces she dropped, and some she gave him as well.  The dog was intimidating to say the least, but unless feeling the need to be protective of his owner, was practically a big, grey teddybear.  He was also trained to respond to Dacey’s every word, and as such Dacey brought him everywhere, and in moments like these didn’t feel the need to hold onto his leash.--With the street practically empty, the two had started a game, well if you could call Dacey throwing french fries on the sidewalk and watching him gallop over them before snuffling them up into his great big gob a game.  

It wasn’t until french fry had already been thrown did Dacey realize they were no longer alone any more, and she quickly called out to her dog.  “Bear, sit!”  And he did, immediately, but directly in the path of the pedestrian.  Dogs, so smart, but yet also so dumb.  “Sorry about that.” She called out as she finally reached the end of the leash, quickly picking it up. “Just hope you didn’t step on the french fry because otherwise he’s following you home.” She joked.

Dacey’s eyes settled on the turned back of what seemed to be a loiterer, not recognizing the physical traits that she could see.   Bear & Claw had their fair share of trouble with lurkers, most were men trying to get a glimpse at the mostly femme presenting clientele, but after the wedding (or rather massacre) Dacey had been noticing more and more randoms who seemed to be not quite pervy, not shy possible clients peaking in, but people who seemed oddly interested in the comings and goings of the place.  While in Wolf Kings territory, the gym was technically a neutral space, but that didn’t mean Wolf King business didn’t happen there, so Dacey was naturally paranoid. “This is a private gym, so unless you’re here to take a class or you’re a member you need to leave.--That is unless you’re volunteering to act as a human punching bag?” She inquired of the possible interloper, her bared teeth masquerading as a smile.

“      dacey,      i   -      ”        blinking  wildly  as  the  other  approaches  her,      sansa’s  nose  wrinkles  before  a  giggle  squeaks  out  between  red  stained  lips.        “      they’re  not  even  that  bad!      ”        and  really,      one  glance  down  at  the  heels  adorning  her  own  outfit  shows  that  she’d  at  least  tried  to  take  dacey’s  inexperience  with  heels  into  consideration.        gentle  hand  extended  out  to  rest  on  her  forearm   -   a  steadying  measure  for  the  woman  who’d  done  far  more  for  sansa  than  she  could  ever  repay  her  for.        “      c’mon,      i’ll  get  you  however  many  drinks  you  want.      ”        she  figures  it  is  the  least  she  can  do,      to  help  ease  the  strain  and  make  sure  she’s  actually  enjoying  herself.        “      you  like  the  suit  though,      right?      ”        an  easier  question  as  she  latches  onto  dacey’s  wrist  and  tugs  her  in  the  direction  of  the  bar.

——————————————————————————————

"Not even that bad?” Dacey questioned incredulous.  “Not even that bad?” she repeats herself only louder, before bringing up her own foot high enough that the other could see. “Look at this, my feet look like they’re being strangled. These are the BTK of shoes.”  Dacey was not normally a dramatic woman, in fact she was fairly pragmatic, but when it came to blood being cut off from extremities, yeah she could get a bit hysterical.  But as the other woman agreed to Dacey’s ultimatum of providing free drinks, she figured she could shut up, at least for a couple of minutes.  “---I love the suit.” She replied quietly, finding it odd just how much she loved it, it somehow provided the boxy silhouette that Dacey preferred without making her feel like a bag lady, she still felt sexy.  But never having been one into clothes, always marked as a ‘tom boy’ for some reason she felt silly admitting that she actually liked clothes or had preferences, and found herself quickly wanting to move on.  “What about you?  How is your adventure from outside the walls of your tower going?  Having any fun?”

Dacey’s whispers were a mix between praying to the Gods and cursing them in equal measure.  Who in the hell made the rule that black tie meant heels anyways?  “Hey, you!” she hissed at Sansa after spotting her only a few feet away.  “I thought you said these were comfortable!” Her tone was accusatory, feeling betrayed by her fashionista of a friend.  Dacey had been able to weasel her way out of wearing a dress and into a svelte, black suit, but hadn’t been able to escape the death contraption that were heels.  “You either need to get me drunk enough that I don’t care anymore of kill me right now.  As a friend you owe me that much.”

Dacey wondered: if you had enough money to buy a house in heaven, was gambling even fun anymore?  For her, the thought of winning enough money in twenty minutes to pay her rent for months, or lose just the same, was thrilling, exhilarating.  Loss and gains still had some meaning for her.  But if twenty thousand was merely a drop in the bucket to you, how could gambling be anything more than a vaguely entertaining way to pass the time?  “Who do you think is gonna win?  The guy with the gold cuffs, the other guy with the gold cuffs, or the one with the platinum ones?”  She asked her neighbor sarcastically.  Did it really even matter anyways?  They were probably all billionaires anyway.

OPEN

a trail of cigar smoke escapes from the seal of her lips as she holds the vintage cuban in her lungs a little longer. it’s smooth going in but prickles at the edges of her chest, settling in like a temperamental beast laid to rest. she exhales and watches as the puff dissipates into the evening, the smell of it fragrant but not too strong on the open balcony she had gone off to. olenna raises a glass of cognac to her lips, stopping midway when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye.  ‘ if you’re trying to sneak around me, think again, ’  she says.  ‘ i may be old but i’m still of perfect health — vision and all. ’ 

Damn her shoes making her fumble, betraying her by giving her away like that.  After being told her normal leather boots wouldn’t cut it for the dress code, Dacey had almost bailed, but had been practically dragged by parties more interested in the event, and she was sincerely regretting letting that happen.  Of course it would be her luck in the moment she was simply searching for a breath of fresh air to run into yet another person, and not only another person, but Olenna Tyrell.  Dacey was fairly sure she hadn’t ever interacted with the woman, but she knew of her reputation.  “I sincerely pray for the soul of whatever idiot calls you old.” Dacey snorted, words coming out before she could stop herself.  “Didn’t mean to disturb you though.  If you’ve claimed this balcony, I guess I can find another.”

__________________________________________

“I was attacked, technically. Not what you mean, but still.” Robb tilted his head, thinking. “Not sure the bar fight aesthetic is really what I’m going for regardless. And I’m not sure I’ll end up with a crooked nose. I woke up with this thing on.” He tapped the splint on his nose. But there were more important things to worry and talk about than his nose.

He had to lean back against the pillows heavily at the idea that this might be an all-out war. It couldn’t be. Wars didn’t just happen. No, this was something else. He would stay focused on it being something else. “You’d know if you’d cracked your skull before. It’s not a mistakable injury.” Two days, though. that was potentially a lot of time he’d be out of commission. While he knew he could rely on his father and aunt to handle things, already his mind was swimming with all the things he could be getting done if he wasn’t in a hospital. Or maybe it was just swimming. “I can start with questioning Theon, at least. Maybe not as thoroughly as others might like. Hell, maybe I won’t get anything out of him on the Greyjoy side of things. I have a gut feeling they didn’t tell him anything at all. At the very least, though, I can get an idea of what the coverup is looking like from the police perspective.”

——————————————————————————————

“Excuses, excuses.” She teased absent-mindedly.  Batting back sarcastic responses and taunting remarks was second nature to her now, both from all the years she spent with her four little sisters as well as hanging around all the Wolf Kings initiates (who she loved to put down when they got a bit too big for their britches).  

As Dacey watched Robb’s expression and demeanor change at the mention of an all-out war, Dacey realized how lucky she was.  Sure, she was probably more likely to be killed ‘in the field’ as they say, but all she had to be was a loyal soldier, and she was good at that.  Tell her who to kill, tell her who to fight, who to protect, and she’d do it.  But to be in positions like Robb and his father, who had to make those decisions: who to fight, who to kill, and how to make it all stop?  Well, that wasn’t a job she was envious of, for sure.  And it only solidified her thoughts of never wanting to be promoted past Capo.  Too much responsibility for her taste.

“Honestly, I don’t know if you’ll get a whole lot of shit for it, word has already spread that it was Theon who saved your father from being in the same position, or worse, that Robert Baratheon is in.--Of course there are some whispers that it was all a ploy to get even deeper.  And as much as I dislike the bastard, I think it was legit.” She said with a shrug, offering her opinion.  The ploy of letting Theon be a hero, saving Ned, it all seemed like too much of a risk, too many moving parts where something could go wrong and it could go down in flames.  But then again, she wasn’t one for strategies and politicking. 

It was a regular night at the Dragonpit for Elia. She trusted those who ran the bar enough that she didn’t need to be there every night, but she had been coming more and more lately, to stave off the helplessness that had been filling her life since the wedding. Here at least was her own territory, where there was always something for her to do. She was walking through, lost in thought, when someone literally bumped into her. One didn’t last in her position long without being aware of others, and Elia knew she had seen this woman before - not as a regular patron, but involved in her other life. But a photographic memory she had not, and so Elia would have to use her own skills to figure out why the woman’s face stood out. “My fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she responded to the apology. “Let me get you a drink to make up for it - owning a place has some advantages.” The offer was just that, an offer, presented with a friendly face and no hint of flirtation (she was really too old to be buying strangers drinks in bars in that way), and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop her if she refused.

——————————————————————————————–

Dacey had never been good at the cloak and dagger aspect of it all.  She preferred to face things head on (literally, a good head-butt to the nose was a great way to catch someone off guard), she was a physical being.  She wasn’t built for the shadowy parts of it, and thats why she knew she wouldn’t up the ranks of the Wolf Kings at least, nothing past Capo, anyways.  Nor did she really want to.  As Elia offered her a drink, Dacey stumbled, unsure of how to answer.  Was it all a ruse?  Did the woman know who she was, or even know why she was in her establishment?  Or was she genuinely playing the part of an attentive owner, insistent on keeping her patrons happy and coming back for more?  It took her a moment to make the decision, and figured she’d take the drink, if only to try and find out exactly which role Elia was playing.  Dacey needed to know if she or her informant was compromised, after all.  “It really is no problem but--I won’t say no to a free drink.”