#bumblingbrujo

Cassie ducked a little when she saw Ephram raising the decanter to toss it. Her hands shielding over her head slightly before she stood straight again, kicking some glass shards away. “The big scary man.” Cassie mused, clicking her tongue in disappointment only at the broken crystal and spilled liquor. “I’m terrified.” 

She took her seat and looked back to Ephram sharply, “How was I supposed to know they’d be lurking about? Clair de Lune was behind schedule.” Cassie explained, scoffing at the sight of Ephram’s finger on the table, and the reason as to why it was dispatched. “I tried to figure out what Skull Boys wanted before we even left the alley-“ She spread her hands out, “Petal was only interested in games. We could have worked something out over the shipping contract. I don’t understand the brutality.” Cassie paused, crossing her legs, “I’m sorry, brother.”

Ephram scooped up the bottle of rum and bit the cork out of its neck, spitting it onto the floor. "Oh, well then," he said, sweeping Cassie an unsteady bow. "She's sorry. How was she supposed to know? After all, it's not like I told Voeman to go along because he has experience in these things and can handle himself because he carries a fooking gun." Ephram swallowed a few deep gulps of the rum and sat against his father's desk, reeling somewhat, sweat starting to soak through his shirt. "I know you don't understand the brutality. That's exactly why we have things set up the way we do, Cassie: you handle things quietly, behind the scenes, with nobody knowin' you got the influence in Kingfisher and the Jacks that you do. I'm the one who handles the brutality. I'm the one who understands it." He nursed the bottle, breathing heavily, damply, sounding laboured like a child with a bad cold.

Cassie sat there quietly, allowing Ephram to halfway lecture her about how silly she’d been and their different roles in the business. “I mean you did just chuck a bottle at me…” She murmured, she could grasp the brutality off of that action, but she didn’t want to get into it with him. “So what? I’ll stay behind everything while you go off and get digits snipped away?” Why did they save that for Ephram specifically? Because it was the only way to convince him at all? “You need a doctor.” Cassie shook her head, “Worse than before.” She thought it was just a tad more important.

Ephram shook his head. "They have irons at the dress shop," he said, lifting the bottle in a toast. "She cauterized it." Ephram tucked his hand in tighter against his ribs as he drank again, then gave a long, gusty sigh. "You know what, Cassie -- I ain't the old man, I don't control you. Do whatever you want to do. If you reckon my throwin' a bottle across the room is the worst thing what's happened tonight, then I don't know what to say." He started to stand, then slipped a little back down, shutting his eyes and raising his eyebrows as he regained his equilibrium.

Cassie couldn’t help the slight cringe that came to her face at the mention of cauterization. So the bleeding stopped, it didn’t mean Ephram looked any better off because of it. “That’s not what I said.” Cassie pointed at him firmly, “Jesus Christ Ephram they handed me your finger like it was a dropped dollar bill. Believe me I’m more upset over that then the stupid decanter. Stay sitting.” She scoffed, “Just stay.” 

She walked towards the door, pulling it open and calling for the ever loyal but exhausted housekeeper. All Mrs. Hughs needed to do was get a doctor, Miguel or someone else discreet. Cassie didn’t care. “No tell me.” Cassie spoke again when she turned back to Ephram at his desk, “I can confirm those government biddings. We can get back at Petal that way. We can shut her down if we play cards right.”

Ephram rocked the bottle against his knee and opened his eyes a sliver, enough to watch Cassie talking to their housekeeper and the look of horror that crossed Mrs. Hudson's face, the hand that pressed to her chest in response to the news. "I'll call the doctor right away," she said, and then Ephram could swear he heard her murmur, "...poor lamb," before she bustled away. 

He huffed thickly, sluicing back more of the rum. "Lamb," he repeated. "She hasn't called me that since I was five." He stood, muttering and waving off Cassie's dire warning sound to make his way to the leather-upholstered sofa and lie down on it, head propped against the arm. "Isa de la Vega's been getting information out of Councilor Brindle about it," he said, shifting his hand along his ribs. "I was at Clair myself talkin' to her about it. She said there was only one higher bid than ours, and now we know who it is."

Cassie “She adores you, everything considered.” Cassie surmised about Ms. Hughs. She pursed her lips in irritation when Ephram moved across the room against her strict direction, but it’s not like she could stop him. Instead, she approached the bar and poured herself a small glass of gin. Cassie took a large swig, squinting down the burn of the liquor before nodding along with Ephram, “Whores are usually persuasive. Well good. At least I know you had a good time before Petal’s meeting.” Cassie raised her glass to him before taking another sip. “She could have snipped something worse so all things considered-“ The gin swirled in her glass for a moment before Cassie stole another glance to her brother, wrinkling her nose, “Sorry, too soon?”

Ephram waved the rum bottle in Cassie's direction. "Naw, go ahead, make all the jokes you want," he said, letting one boot heel clunk down onto the floor. "It's funny. Everyone who Petal Popovitch tells is gonna find it funny, eh? So why not you." Ephram considered drinking more, but he could feel the rum he'd already drunk churning thin and hot in his belly, so he set the bottle down on the floor and blinked slowly at the crumpled handkerchief on the table. "You know," Ephram said, squinting one eye at Cassie, "I'm apparently a good kisser. That whore told me. So you know it must be true." 

He reached out and slapped his hand down over the kerchief, dragging it across the table to himself, but didn't lift his palm to look at his dismembered finger. Ephram gave a crooked smile, his eyes pained and glassy. "Good thing Kingfisher's the only fucking thing I'll ever be married to," he said. "No big loss, then, a ring finger."

Cassie “I don’t think Popovitch is funny.” Cassie shook her head, “I think I’m funny.” She looked at him a little sadly though, it wasn’t like she was trying to make him feel worse than he already did. She finished her glass of gin and arched a brow at her brother’s muses over the prostitute back at Clair de Lune. “Sure…” She murmured, placing her glass back on the bar. Her eyes lingering on the gin, Cassie couldn’t decide if she wanted a second helping. The mention of marriage though caught her attention and she turned sharply, frowning deeply at Ephram. “Only if you want. With the war over, it wouldn’t be pointless.” She abandoned the bar and crouched in front of him then, nudging his knee, “Is a ring finger really what’s got you all melancholy?”

Ephram lifted his bleary gaze to his adopted sister. "Don't be ridiculous," he chided her softly. "The only marriage prospect I ever had was you, Cassie. You know that." His stare, hard to read even on a regular basis, was completely inscrutable now, hazed over by rum and acute suffering.

Cassie hung her head at Ephram’s response. “Right.” Cassie patted his knee before standing again, “But we know how that would look. Come on Ephram, you’re drunk and sad.” She crossed her arms, keeping eye contact with that unreadable stare for only a few prolonged moments before having to back away.

"Right," Ephram repeated. He closed his hand over the handkerchief and its gory contents, getting to his feet and crossing over to the fireplace -- tossing it in without another thought. The stink of burned cloth and charring meat sizzled up into the air, and Ephram silently pitched sideways to sprawl on the floor, passed out cold. His left hand slid out from where he'd been holding it tight against him, wrapped in a stained strip of torn white cotton that clotted over the mutilated hole of his missing finger.

Poor Mrs. Hudson sounded thoroughly flapped when she called Miguel, and Miguel had thought she was unflappable. Good thing he was never that far from the damn Kingfisher house. It almost seemed like they had him on retainer, which they didn't, but hopefully the look was enough to keep people from bothering him too much. On the other hand, didn't that mean that their competitors would go out of their way to bother him? Jeez, he had to convince Iann to leave this forsaken town. He was hustled into the house by Mrs. Hudson and shown to Ephram, prostrate on the ground in front of the fireplace. Well shit.

Miguel crouched down, black bag already open. What a rush job. Not that he would do anything differently if he only had... whatever Ephram had available. It was a reminder that Ephram too had been a soldier and seen the field. Miguel sighed. It was a good thing Essie had cleaned him out, it meant that his bag was full again. And he had enough supplies and patience to clean the finger right, to open it back up, take the sliver of bone out at the joint, and use the skin that left to make a flap that he could sew up nice and pretty. Ephram was already unconscious, so he didn't need to waste any analgesics on him yet.

Ephram moved one foot slowly along the floor as he came dully back to consciousness, his head pounding with a thumping pain that radiated out from between his eyes. Like he'd been felled with a goddamn sledgehammer. "No morphine," he mumbled to the medic who was working on him. "Stitch me up fast, doc. There's a mixed unit headin' in from the cold tonight and we need to give em cover."

That worked for Miguel. Well, he would rather no mixed unit be on the way. And he would rather his careful work not be made useless if Ephram got himself killed. "Just about done." He finished up his stitch and asked Mrs. Hudson to go get some ice. "I would suggest resting, you probably passed out from blood loss, and I don't have an easy fix for that except food, water, and rest. But I know it's a moot point if you have your mind set to something."

Ephram blinked, frowning. Ice? Food, water, rest? What the hell sort of crazy field medic had his battalion been saddled with, where did he think they were? "Corporal, did you get knocked on the head shipping out? I know you don't--" The rustle of skirts and the crackle of the fire suddenly resolved in Ephram's brain, and he recalled in a rush where he was. Not in a trench in France, but racked out on the floor of his father's office, in his own home. "Jesus," he said, his first instinct to snatch his mutilated hand away from Miguel.

Miguel let Ephram pull away. The look in those hazy blue eyes was all too familiar. "Count down from ten, focus on one thing you can see, one thing you can hear, one thing you can feel." It was a trick he had learned on his way home, and it had helped countless soldiers. Maybe for decades before this war, maybe centuries. Miguel didn't think it was a new idea, a new invention, another stepping stone brought on by superior gun power and barely imaginable violence.

Ephram scrabbled up to a sitting position, breathing fast. "What did you do?" he asked Miguel, then pushed away from him, scooting back a foot or so from the doctor. Ephram didn't have any other recourse than to do what he'd been told, though, so he counted all in one breathless stream: "tennineighsevenssisfiforthreetwone. Can hear--" he held up his right hand next to his head, forefinger tapping the air, "Mrs. Hudson." The housekeeper hurried in, giving Miguel a bowlful of freshly-chipped ice and making a dismayed noise at the state of Ephram. "Can see the ice," he said. Ephram shut his eyes for a moment and swallowed, slowing his breathing. "Can't feel my god damned finger."

"You can feel the lack of god damned finger," Miguel pointed out, maybe unnecessarily. There was a second of silence and Miguel's dumbass put a hand on Ephram's shoulder to steady him. "You okay?"

Ephram slanted a look at Miguel. "Funny," he said, wiping sweat from his face. "You and my sister should take your act on the road." Ephram chucked his chin in the direction of the fire, saying, "--too bad I already threw my fucking cut-off finger in there, or you coulda taken it with you for a prop." 

He levered himself up from the floor, almost losing balance and falling back down again -- except that Mrs. Hudson moved in, helping Ephram up with the sorts of comforting murmurs that older women tended to give to their very young charges. "I'm fine, thank you, Mrs. Hudson," Ephram said when he was up. "Doctor. I'm fine. How much?"

Miguel nodded. "The same as a bullet wound." It had taken about the same amount of work as digging through a shoulder for a missing bullet. What would Ephram do without him? Maybe Miguel would refuse next time Mrs. Hudson called. "Did I tell you to stay safe last time? Will you ever listen to anything I say, Mr. Kingfisher?" Miguel cleaned up his supplies and started toward the door. If there was one thing he did trust Ephram to do, it was settle his bill.

                                                   ===**===**===

Ephram turned his left hand back and forth, flexing his fingers slightly in the buttery-soft kidskin gloves that had been delivered by a Watts runner that morning. Of course Freddie had already known about the ignoble depletion of Ephram's manual ability -- which stung, despite the fact that Ephram had known Petal Popovitch would waste no time in spreading it around that she'd knocked Kingfisher down a significant peg, despite the fact he'd even predicted as much to Cassie -- but still, Ephram found himself grateful. Even for the arch little note in Freddie's copperplate handwriting: included a wax digit to compensate for the indignity, darling ~ one setback needn't ruin the fit of your gloves.

Ephram headed downstairs after the final touches to his grooming, Mrs. Hudson meeting him at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of tea and a popover. Her grey eyes were sympathetic, shades of the housekeeper who'd brought him back tin snap toys after every Sunday's marketing when he'd been a child, but Ephram didn't invite any spoken commisserations. "Is Miss Caird in my office?" he asked, and Mrs. Hudson nodded, taking back the empty teacup as Ephram collected his popover. 

Breaking off a bit of it and tucking it into his mouth, Ephram strode into his office to greet Essie with a nod, saying, "Mrs. Hudson's brought you tea, good. Don't mind me breakfasting as we talk. Busy schedules, as I'm sure you're familiar with, eh?"

Essie sat uncomfortably in the office, teacup in hand but no liquid had been drained. She was tense, the night the kingfishers sister had gone missing had been a bad night for her personally as well. Seems her offering her services to the gang had caught some unwanted attention from some of her other clients. Ex clients now, many of them not being alive anymore so to speak. A shoot out against an arms dealer in the midst of a deal was not a smart move. "Very familiar." she agrees nodding in greeting, still holding her cup in her hands and refusing to drink. "You requested my company?"

Ephram sat against his father's desk, continuing to tear his popover into small pieces and munch on them. "You provided service to Slap Jacks that you hadn't been contracted for," he said, then added with a slight smile, "--in fact, before you'd even been formally contracted to us at all. Now, I'm pleased that you stepped in to help, Essie, I'm very much pleased, but I'm curious." Ephram propped his elbow against his knee, leaning forward slightly. "Why did you? We'd already conducted our business with the weapons shipment, your committment had been fulfilled by that point."

Essie purses her lips looking up at him. She was correct, she had no formal ties to the Kingfishers and Watts aside from a 'show of good faith' shipment. All she had been thinking at the time was that she wanted an in with them. Unfortunately that in had been at a bad time for the family, she hadn't expected it to come to much considering there'd been a kidnapping and they'd left so abruptly. "I was around. I'd been in the house, leaving when I spotted Voeman. We watched your sister be bundled into a car and when he started the questioning I was there. So I provided a little assistance."

Ephram chewed his warm bread from one side of his mouth to the other, contemplating Essie and her answer. "You're a ... straight shooter, aren't you, Miss Caird." A corner of his mouth twitched up at his small joke. "I can't imagine you do this sort of thing on a normal basis, hm? An up-and-coming arms dealer like yourself, you need to maintain a pretty delicate place for yourself among all of us prospective customers. After all, your bullets don't discriminate over whose blood they spill, do they?"

Essie simply looks back at him, he was all small smiles and jokes but her eyes flit to his gloved hands subtly. She wondered if it was an act he was putting on just for her. "I am." she agrees however. "They don't usually." she admits looking up at him. "But what with recent events seems my 'show of faith' hasn't gone down too well with a few of my other clients. Aligning with you even the slightest amount has shifted the ballgame for me, that night in particular wasn't very fortunate on either of our parts."

It took an act of will not to instinctively move his ruined hand out of sight when Ephram saw Essie glance at them, no doubt wondering why he was wearing gloves in the first place. But he managed to keep his hands where they were, turning the last morsel of his popover over in his fingers. "We did manage to bring my sister back home safe," Ephram said. "That was very fortunate. And you played a part in that, no matter how peripheral." 

Getting up, Ephram went around the desk and set his remaining bit of breakfast down on its polished surface so he could open a drawer, taking out five tight rolls of bills and lining them up next to his breadcrumbs. "That's two hundred dollarpounds for the guns you gave to me ... and Watts," Ephram said, "and three hundred more for a case of dynamite and to hold you on retainer for Slap Jacks. Exclusively." Not Watts. In some things, it was still a matter of serving one master only.

Essie purses her lips and nods at the mention that he'd managed to get his sister back, the word safe indicating to her that no harm had come of the woman. As money was placed on the table she sets her teacup down sitting up straighter. She knew it would come to business, there was no other reason to call her in, the social graces they'd just shared showed the woman that he was feeling generous, that he was willing to talk rather than get right to it as he had before. "What happened to a show of faith?" she asks him watching the money line up in front of her. The word exclusively has her eyes flickering up to his. "I can obtain you the dynamite. But you'll need to elaborate on what exclusivity you want."

Ephram finished off his popover, mouth a little full as he said, "You showed us faith. You also showed your mettle when a need arose. I would say that requites the standards of an evaluation period, wouldn't you?" He sat down in the big leather char behind the desk, putting his feet up on one corner of it (and if that pose allowed him to slip his left hand down out of sight, well -- that was just a happy coincidence). "Explosives and and incindiaries, you can sell to whoever you want; old school weapons too, if you deal in those. I don't care who's outfitted with brass knuckles and blackjacks. But guns? Those you'll sell only to Slap Jacks."

Essie doesn't reach for the money just yet, though her fingers are twitching to take it. Her second in command of the operation she ran hadn't been too pleased with her decision to allow the munitions away for free, but she was the boss and she hadn't allowed him to argue with her too much. She'd felt it a blow as well considering how much the shipment would have gathered. To be offered compensation now that she'd already adjusted to the loss would be incredible. But these things had to be discussed. "My operations is mainly firearms Mr. Kingfisher. That's a big ask."

Ephram nodded. "It is," he said, meeting her eyes and holding her gaze. "But that's our business, isn't it, Essie? Big asks, big risks, big rewards. You don't last long by playing it conservative." His tone was still hovering somewhere near friendly, but Ephram's flat smile made it clear this was the outer boundary on what he was going to offer.

Essie folds her hands in her lap. "Aligning with you so blatantly will bring my operations under more fire than has already occurred." she spoke meeting his eyes, unafraid but thinking quickly. "I will have to withdraw from many clients to do what you're asking, I'm sure you're aware." She falls quietly and thinks about the offer. To be on retainer would be a steady workload, more reliable. And yet there were so many dangers that came with it. "The night your sister was snatched I had a deal raided. It was to show me what aligning myself with you would mean. We came out on top, they were a bunch of fucking idiots to try. Can I ask of you one thing? To halt dealings with others I'll need a little more muscle than firepower. Just to have it run...smoother."

Ephram slapped his good hand down on the heavy desk, the sound reverberating through the office. "See? I knew you'd see reason. I like you, Miss Caird." He pointed at Essie, a few jabs of his finger in the air before he nodded at the money. "Take it. I'll send you a dozen Jacks so you can work them in shifts of six on at a time, night and day. Will that be enough to start, d'you think?" It would have to be; the question was a mere play at formal politeness. A dozen Jacks was all that Ephram was willing to spare. From what he'd seen of Essie, even if she wanted more than that, she'd more likely than not take what she could get up front and then prove that she deserved more later.

Essie smiled for the first time that day when he enthusiastically pointed at her. Ephram was an odd man. "I'll still be dealing in other munitions to some clients." she reminds. "I still aim to make good profits, although I will do as you ask. No more firearms to anyone other than my men and yours." She had meant a few men for the deals themselves but if he was willing to offer up manpower to the actual operation who was she to say no. Her second couldn't say no to an offer like that. She reaches forward and lifts the cash, tucking some of the money into her boot before placing the rest in her handbag. She offers her hand and then thinks again, shifting her hand to her lips and spitting in it as he had done before.

Ephram swung his feet down and stood, clasping Essie's hand in his own. It didn't have quite the same slap to it as a gloveless handshake, but he hadn't figured out a way around certain traditional aspects of social interaction yet. And this was still the way that mad bad gangsters sealed a deal. "In four hours," he said, "go to Kingfisher Soapworks. Find the foreman, Murphy -- he'll be a redhead with a face like a fucking shovel -- and he'll secure your men for you." Ephram pumped Essie's hand once more before letting go and re-taking his seat, a clear sign that their meeting had concluded.

Essie shook her hand with his. "Tell the man to expect a few people. I'll need to introduce a few of mine to yours so we can keep both at a little more ease." When their hands drop she finally moves, draining the teacup set out for her in one gulp. "I'll take my leave." with a nod she heads for the door.

Cassie let Ephram sit with Essie Caird alone. He was already irritated enough with her, she wasn't going to push much of anything. Just be happy she wasn't in Petal Popovitch's clutches and spend time with her kids. Cassie was sipping a cup of coffee, Albie settled on one hip as she walked slowly through the manor. "Why don't you play with your dolls Addie?" She suggested to the toddler who was still running around with her popguns. Cassie was getting tired of the noise.

"No one can get me." Addie laughed, brushing past Ms. Hughs legs as she jumped on the couch to perch at the window sill, her toy pressed against the glass. ""Someone is out there Mama." The redhead glanced back, and Cassie moved quickly - pulling the curtain aside. she sighed, correcting unimpressed. "It's just Joey. Stay here."

Cassie walked out of the front door, clicking it shut behind her. "Voeman." She called, lifting the hand with her half empty coffee cup, "What are you doing?"

Joey would probably look like a straight stalker to anyone observing him from the outside of the situation. He was skulking around the Kingfisher manor, hunched shoulders weighed down by a long trench coat, face cast in shadow by his flat cap like always, moving slow and deliberate as he kept his head on a swivel. When he saw Addie look out the window at him, he quickly tried to turn away, but he’d clearly been caught as Cassie joined him outside. “Those Skull Boys mean business,” he said plainly, even though her tone made his blood both boil and run ice cold all at once somehow. “You said they were watching the kids, so I’m watching for them.”

Cassie set her mug down on one of the stone bolsters before descending the steps to stand in front of Joey directly. "I told you you didn't need to do that." Cassie felt like she was constantly repeating herself, "Don't snoop around like this. A little girl noticed. Jesus, if the other Jacks don't realize who you are you'll get shot." She readjusted Albie in her arms glancing back to the house, "Look I think the only thing you have going for you right now is the fact that you got the guns back to safety. The arms dealer is in the house right now."

Joey knew Cassie was right, but he was absolutely consumed with keeping Cassie and her kids safe. It was silly. He was pathetic. It was all true. And hell, maybe in the back of his mind he was hoping a Slap Jack that didn’t know better might cap him and put him out of his goddamn misery. “But here I am, doing it anyway,” he said, taking in the sight of her with Albie rested on her hip. He wasn’t used to seeing such a motherly visage of her, and it threw him for a bit of a loop. 

“That ones Albert, right?” He asked. He was pretty sure he was correct. Cassie was as good at keeping her kids hidden away from just about everyone. “Hiya Albie,” he cooed, taking a couple steps closer as he waved at the little boy, who giggled back at him. He then straightened up and cleared his throat. “I think my only real saving grace is Ephram was too busy with his lost finger to kill me.” He was still expecting it at any moment, really. “I’m going to keep you safe until he takes me out of the equation.”

"Clearly." Cassie responded, glancing behind Joey's shoulder and scanning the rest of the front walk up and lawn. If there were any other Slap Jacks on patrol, they hid themselves a lot better than Joey had. She blinked, a little surprised that Joey knew the younger baby's name at all. She was trying to keep the boy a bit more seperate from Slap Jack business - Addie had weedled her way in the hearts of everyone early on. Cassie didn't have much of a choice for her. "That's right." She nodded, smoothing Albie's soft fine hair and unable to hide her slight smile at his giggle. "He's a good boy." Cassie frowned though at Joey's next comments, giving him a harder look, "Don't keep giving him a reason." It was a slight scolding. Sure she was short and cold with him, but it was mostly for both of their own saftey's. She bit her lip, it was hard to keep bottled up faced with both of them together now, "At least for Albie. He's yours. You know."

Joey felt his stomach do a flip in his belly as Cassie spoke, and his jaw literally dropped open. “Cassie, don’t fuck with me...” But he knew she wasn’t. The timeline made sense. Is Albie the reason she’d ended things? He took a couple more steps toward them, all but closing the gap between them. “Can I?” he asked, gesturing toward the small baby boy.

Cassie looked at Joey with an unamused frown. Joking around about paternity was pretty low, even for her. She was glad Joey didn't isist upon it. At his request, Cassie felt her grip on the younger baby tighten just a little. It was an instinct. Revealing this information to Joey could have been a poor mistake, but it had also been a moment of weakness for her. She was just tired of Joey being so god damn downtrodden. "Sure." Cassie finally muttered, carefully passing Albie off to him, gaze ever watchful.

Joey saw Cassie tighten her grip on the boy, but she eventually handed him over, and he carefully took the child into his arms. He was heavier than he looked, and Joey couldn’t keep the smile off his face as tears welled in his eyes. He had a son. “Hey there, big guy,” Joey cooed, receiving another giggle in return. He brought his lips to the little boys cheek and have him a kiss. “You’re gonna have your daddy’s cheekbones, I can see it,” he joked. He didn’t want to give him back, but he could see Cassie was anxious with Albie in the arms of another, even if he’d help make the boy. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so jumpy if you got him away from all this,” Joey suggested. Albie has curled up against his chest, so he held him there, rubbing the boys back in small, gentle circles. “I don’t care what you say about not mixing business with pleasure and all that hogwash, but we HAD something. And have something beautiful to show for it.”

Cassie "I have nothing without the business. Kingfisher and Co." Cassie explained. It was more than she owed Joey, but she might as well make it clear for him. "I could be on the streets, or dead. So no. I'm not just going to step away at your suggestion." She was already getting stoney again, but Cassie culdn't help it. She laughed at Joey's sentimental proclamtions. "Yeah? And you have a wife. Tell her about us. Everything. Including Albert. Watch what happens."

Joey “I would tell her,” he said indignantly, though he really had no right to be. “I’d tell her everything.” Whether that was true didn’t matter in the moment. He believed himself as he said it. He’d never stopped feeling for Cassie what he’d felt back then, and in the moment, holding his son, that was all that mattered to him. But with a sigh, he wordlessly handed Albie back to her, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead as he did.

                                                  ===**===**===

Essie had not been pleased with the deal they had struck. She might have acted as thought she were willing to participate but truthfully she had no intention of taking her operation exclusive, especially not to the kingfishers. Their business was muddled after the death of the last head of the family. Ephram trying to carry on, but all previous dealings were tense under new management not to mention the new dealings with herself on the rocks. 

That's why the night Ephrams sister had been taken, once she had returned to the house only to find out the man had been having a meeting of his own. Since that day the beautiful woman had been under Essies thumb. Paying much higher than the Kingfisher to obtain the information not only on what he was interested in, but also the man himself. The woman had come to one of the warehouses to be paid that day. Essie smiling at the woman. "Thank you for letting me know." she hums in approval.

Isa was approached by Alessa Caird the day after Ephram's last visit. First she pretended she didn't have any idea what the woman was talking about, but all the woman had to mention was that she would be paying more money for Isa to start talking. She briefly considered her safety, but the woman was an arms dealer. If anyone could make sure she came out of this okay, it was the woman with the big guns. And if she could continue to give information to Ephram and take money from him too, she wasn't going to complain. Essie and her were in one of the warehouses, Isa coming in to take her well earned money. She nodded with a smile. "Happy to be of service," she said. "Any other information you need, you know where to find me. Now, you promised me a payment today." She wasn't a fan of chitchat, not when it was in the middle of creepy warehouses.

Essie had encouraged Isa to feed Ephram how hard it was to get information from the councilor, while telling her the real information. She assured the other she wouldn't skimp on the price just because she was also getting paid by the kingfisher. Rolling her eyes the arms dealer moves around to produce a healthy envelope of cash. "this should more than cover you for this past week."

Ephram wasn't generally in the habit of meeting his associates on their turf if he could help it, but -- that had been a privilege he'd held under the old world order, when his father had been around with all the force and fury of his decades in the game for Ephram to prevail upon. The changing of the guards had given him and Cassie freedom to push the business in new directions, yes, but it had also knocked them down a few rungs in the estimations of many gangland figures. Ones with influence and power. So despite his misgivings, he'd come to see Essie Caird; hoping that catching the young arms dealer unawares would tip the balance in his favour.

Ephram did not, however, at all expect to see Isabel de la Vega there. And even more unexpected -- money changing hands. "I didn't disturb something important, did I?" he called to the two women, approaching them with a touch more caution than initially. Fuck. This was a complication he didn't need.

Isa took the envelope full of cash happily and wanted to quickly flip through it, see if everything she was expecting was in the envelope, when Ephram walked in. Of all people, everyone in this damn town, it had to be Ephram who showed up. Of course. Things were going way too well. 

Isa didn't bat an eye, however, she just turned to Ephram with a sweet smile. "Nothing that couldn't be disturbed. If you pay, you could even join us in the fun. If Essie would be into that, too, of course," she said, stepping closer to the woman, hoping she would go along with the play. Neither of them would want Ephram to know what was going on here.

Essie had failed to mention to the woman that she'd been double dealing behind the kingfishers back. It hadn't seemed necessary to inform Isa that she was likely not to be in Ephrams good books for very long considering the type of information she was gathering. It was sweet how Isa came up with a lie on the stop to hopefully settle the man, but Essie knew better. He hadn't been asked here, he was here to have a little 'chat' about his missing men. 

A smile makes it way onto her face nonetheless, playing along if only to buy time for her own operation workers to catch on to what might be going down moments from then. "Can't just be you and the councilor getting off now can it Mr Kingfisher?"

Ephram looked from one to the other with a considering glint in his dark blue eyes, and then down, nodding. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that sounds about right." Reaching into his suit jacket (brand new! a Freddie-sounding part of his brain said mournfully), Ephram drew the gun strapped under his arm, taking a step back so he could keep a bead on both women. "After all," he said, his voice rising a little, hoarse, "I'm the one getting fucked here, eh?"

Isa could see that Ephram was suspicious but still she hoped he would buy the lie until the moment he pulled the gun out from under his jacket, holding it onto the both of them. Isa's stomach dropped at the sight of the gun. This was not how all of this was supposed to go. "Ephram, please, you're misunderstanding something here," she said, her voice pleading as she slid from next to Essie to standing behind the woman. She couldn't get shot here, damn it.

Essie knew this was what was coming and didn't hesitate to reach over and flip the lights on above them. That would hopefully alert her men to move in closer to her, they never turned the lights on. It would mean something was wrong by the switch. It wouldn't take them long to get here. Pulling her own gun she nods slowly. "Of course you're the one being fucked. Did you expect me to take a deal so easy? One that would limit my profits so much? You're an idiot. Even before you asked me to be under your thumb I had this delightful woman intercepting information for me. I wonder if you know how profitable it is to sell information. Seems it's almost as good as dealing in munitions. A little whisper here, a passed note there and all of a sudden your competition is champing at the bit to talk to me, make a deal for what exactly it is you're interested in. Ms De la vega here has been feeding you half the information for a week now. Ever since your sister got snatched. Had you truly not noticed how poor the information was?" she tuts as she hears footsteps, if a fight were to break out it was going to be soon. "It really doesn't do to sleep with your informants you know Ephram. She's beautiful maybe, but perhaps she'd have had more respect for you if you could keep your dick to yourself."

Ephram felt a sick churning in his gut as Essie spoke, the guileless baby face she wore taking on a sudden new dimension. He had been an idiot, taken in by her seeming newness and desire to prove herself, by her jumping in to help Joey in trying to keep Cassie from being kidnapped. Jesus. If they somehow manage to blow your brains out over this fucking warehouse floor you'll have brought it on yourself, sunshine, Ephram thought bitterly. 

"You should have taken being under my thumb, Essie," he said, a muscle in his tight jaw jumping as he worked out how this was going to go down. "It would have been preferable to being under the fucking ground."

Ephram fired off a round into Essie's kneecap, stepping forward at the same time to backhand Isa brutally across the face.

Isa wanted to strangle Essie the moment she started talking. "Oh for fuck's sake," she muttered. this was not supposed to go down like this. She was supposed to get the money and get out of here, not die in a stupid, creepy, dark warehouse. She thought about trying to run, but she wasn't an idiot - the moment she's turn her back on Ephram, he would just shoot her. But what else was she supposed to do? 

Ephram made the decision for her, though, when he shot Essie and backhanded her on the face so hard she fell onto the ground. Her face was burning as she pushed herself back up onto her foot looked into Ephram's eyes for a moment before she spit onto the ground in front of him, her wounded pride being stronger than her common sense.

Essie was a thrill seeker, there was no other reason the woman was in this business. She lived for the money but also the thrill of watching Ephrams face as he digested his mistake. Perhaps she would die here, she was going to try her damnedest not to, but she might, there was always the chance and that's what make this business so thrilling. As soon as one shot rang out, her leg bucking underneath her, more shots started to resound around the warehouse, the Jacks were now up against her second and their men. Tears sprang to her eyes as she hit the floor but she didn't let it halt her, she shoot out, her aim off center for the first time in her life, aiming for his face but rather the shot going towards his shoulder. She ignored the woman on the ground beside her, she was useless now.

Ephram jolted back with the force of the shot to his shoulder, but it didn't halt him; he kept moving forward, emptying four chambers into Essie's chest until he was standing over her body. "Fucking waste," he muttered, and then ducked instinctively as one of the shots being traded between Jacks and Cairds zipped a little too close. "As for you--" Ephram closed his hand around Isa's throat, walking her backwards (her feet hardly touching the ground, with his greater height) until she hit one of the posts holding up the rampway. He leaned in close, face a cold mask of anger. 

"Tell me something true, Isa."

Isa regretted what she did as soon as she's done it. Maybe if she tried to run away before he started shooting, she would have gotten a better chance. But Ephram wasn't playing games, he shot Essie and then went for her throat. She grabbed at his fingers, digging her nails into his skin and trying to pry his fingers off of her throat to get some air into her lungs, but his grip was too strong, while also trying to stand on the ground, but he was too tall and only the tip of her shoes touched the ground. 

He leaned closer and she reached for his throat, trying to choke him into releasing her throat, hoping she could get out this way. "I hope you die," she spat at his question, her voice hoarse, ragged and low.

Ephram stared back at Isa, a corner of his lip twitching into a faint snarl. "Well," he said, "you'll get your wish someday, darling. But today it's come for you." He snugged the muzzle of the gun to the hollow of Isa's throat, and loosened his grip on her as he pulled the trigger.

Ephram stepped back to let Isa's body slump to the ground, wiping the blood on his face with his coat sleeve as he sank into the shadows beneath the upper ramp and reloaded his revolver. 

Joey pursed his lips, shoving his hat back on his head. "You're real good at it too," he grumbled to himself. He tried to let the feeling go, but it lingered. It always lingered. To have had her and lost her would always weigh on his mind. But she was partially right, they needed to focus. "What are you thinking?" he asked, eye on her hand on the car door, his tone clear his mind was on the job again.

"I don't...know." Cassie whispered. It's not like she expected Clair de Lune to go south on them. Ruby had always been a solid contact. Unless something else had gone wrong inside, which was always plausible with a halfway house. "Take the car to the back." Cassie instructed him, opening the car door and stepping out. "We're doing this now before the window closes. Be careful. Maybe the cops are sniffing around but, I'm going through the front for better coverage." She shut the door before Joey had a chance to interject, and waved him off. She stuck her hands in her coat and started down the sidewalk. 

She took her time, eyes scanning the area with acute observation. For the most part, the streets were empty, and Cassie gripped the hand rail next to the porch steps to enter Clair de Lune when she felt the cold metal of a gun press into the small of her back. "Let's go Ms. Kingfisher. And no one gets hurt." Cassie shook her head, glancing at her dark blue heels. "I'm meeting a friend." 

The raspy voice chuckled, "We just wanna talk business."

Essie had made the call. She knew the consequences. Hand pressed to her shoulder around the area of where her collarbone ended she stumbles down the street. Passing by a parked car, but she didn't register the inhabitants, too focused on getting to where she was going. She knew the half way house was safe, would be safe with the right kind of cash anyway. Trying to act as casual as possible she pulls her coat around herself, hand still pressed to the wound in her shoulder she tried to walk a little straighter into the establishment. She bought a room for three times it's price to ensure discretion and waited by the front desk for a few requested items she might need to get fixed up.

Miguel had an understanding with the woman who owned the half-way house - he would sometimes check the girls who worked there without a fee, which helped keep her in business - with more of a profit, and healthier gals. And that meant that she would look the other way when other people used the house to meet up with the doctor on a more secretive basis. Miguel wondered, a lot, how his life had gotten so complex. He walked through the house, said hello to some of the residents and regulars. And went looking for whoever was bleeding. Eventually he found his way into a little room with a woman he recognized as the arms dealer, another not quite affiliated troublemaker, like his brother. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked as he set his black bag down and opened it up.

Essie sat on the bed with her spine hunched double. Not quite the posture of a lady, this being the image she usually tried her best to portray when not conducting business. The hint of tears in her eyes were covered by the intense look of anger in them. "Seven point five millimetre shot in my left shoulder." she tells the doctor. "No exit wound." she adds with a cringe as she shifts her shoulder looking up at him.

No exit, that made things interesting at least. Miguel sighed. "Well... Faye isn't going to be thrilled about this. Lay down on your back, on the floor." He got out his scalpel and his forceps and threw them in a disinfecting bath. Then he got out a strip of leather and handed it to Essie. "You're going to want to bit down on that when the time comes." 

Ephram tapped his cigarette into the cut-glass ashtray he'd set next to him on the narrow bed, not overly mindful of keeping the sheets un-ashed as he waited for Isa. His head was still ticking, calculating the way that the weapons handover had gone down -- dwelling on Freddie Watts' involvement and what was in it for the other gangster boss. The past few days had rekindled their friendship, something that Ephram wasn't (for all his hardened heart) entirely immune to, but at the same time ... something he could ill-afford, at this precarious juncture in the Kingfisher family's establishment as the head of the Slap Jacks.

He raised his eyes as the door to the room opened, silent, waiting for Isa to speak first. A cruel greeting, to be sure -- it would plummet her immediately into wondering if she'd fallen into disfavour -- but an impulse Ephram indulged himself in, for the moment.

Isa headed for her room with tea in her hands. She didn't expect anyone for several hours so her plan was to get a bit of rest before one of her regulars showed up at the usual time. When she walked into her room, however, it wasn't empty as she'd expected it to be, instead Ephram was sitting on her bed, smoking and Isa stopped in the doorway for a second in surprise. He wasn't saying anything and it only took Isa a couple of seconds to start worrying that something happened, something that came back to haunt her now. She shut the door behind her swiftly and without a sound, walking over to the desk to place her mug down, trying to mask her discomfort. "Didn't expect you here tonight, Ephram."

Ephram hummed, a low thrum in his throat as he watched Isa attempt to act as if his presence wasn't a concern. "That's the thing about us bad pennies," he murmured, "--we always turn up." He took a drag, saying tightly through the smoke filtering into his lungs, "Don't let me keep you from enjoying your tea. I want an update on where you're at with Councilor Brindle, is all, Isa. Did he tell you if there have been any competing bids for the government charter for brandy shipping, or is Kingfisher still the leading tender?" 

It was a huge prospective deal, and one that the old man had never shown interest in; it was Ephram and Cassie who wanted to mix legitimate business in with the jobs under the counter. Brindle was a lech, but he was also canny, and Ephram wasn't about to assume that merely throwing a beautiful prostitute at the man would eke information out of him. No, he'd chosen somebody clever, too; somebody who could act, somebody who could think on her feet.

Isa hesitated for a moment, not wanting to pick the tea back up just to not seem like she was doing what Ephram said, but at the same time, at least it gave her something to do with her hands, so she ended up picking it back up as she leaned against the table. "He's not easy to get anything out of, Ephram. Most of the time he just complains about his wife and barely talks about anything relating to his work." She felt like she needed to explain why she hasn't gotten all the information needed yet. She needed the money she got from the Slap Jacks, she needed to make sure Ephram didn't think she wasn't capable of getting the information he needed. "I did find out that there are other bids, I think at least one of them is better than yours, but I couldn't get it out of him yet who the bid was from."

Ephram grunted thoughtfully. "Not bad," he said, a verbal pat on the head to let Isa know she wasn't in the doghouse. "I can follow that for the time being." Kingfisher wouldn't revise their bid unasked -- it would do them no good to seem overeager -- but Cassie could start putting out feelers from an accounting side of things. There weren't so many shipping companies in Soapham with the vessels and manpower to handle this sort of big contract. 

Screwing his cigarette into the corner of his mouth, Ephram took a folded wad of bills from his vest pocket, removing the silver money clip and beginning to strap off dollarpound notes with sharp, quick motions. "How's that mother of yours in the country, eh? The one with the sick cow and the ailing hip?" The mother and the cow and the bloody hip could be a complete fiction, for all Ephram knew; but he didn't much care about that. He appreciated people who put some creativity into trying to ootch a little more out of their boss's billfold into their own, especially when they did it with such flair as Isa did. 

Holding out a slightly thicker crease of bills than was strictly warranted, Ephram waited for Isa to approach to take the money and took her hand when she did, pressing the folded paper into her palm. "Take your dress off," he said. "Only the dress." 

Essie grimaces as she stands up and shifts painfully onto the ground, first sitting and gathering her dress around her knees before putting one arm back to ease herself down. Not an easy task with the other hand still holding her shoulder, her back hitting the ground with a little force. She stares right back at the man, taking the leather and holding it simply in her hand for the time being. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

Miguel looked down at her, a sympathetic sadness in his eyes. How had she gotten into this business? And how many people could he convince to change their ways? "Of course. It's my calling. I come when people need me." He shook his head. If only he had ever learned to say no. Oh well, he needed the cash, who didn't? Was that the only thing that lead people astray like this? He held Essie's good hand with one of his, held it tight. And then he doused her wound in the disinfectant. It burned less than previous iterations, but there was still a bite to it.

Essie recognised what she thought was sympathy in his eyes and she couldn't help but speak. "I got shot but I'm not delicate." she snaps. Steeling her face she moves to stare blandly at the ceiling, however her eyes show her true emotion, pain mixed with the same anger than she'd retained from before. That facade broke when she felt the sting of the disinfectant. "Fuck." she snaps, her fingers closing tightly around his hand, with almost too much force. "Warn a person."

Miguel cleared his throat. "That was just the start, and it's nothing compared to what's next. I'd put the strap in now if I were you." Miguel had been on the front, that was where he was good, field medicine. Doing what he could when he could, and cutting his losses when he had to.

Essie stews for a moment just staring back at the man before closing her eyes and shifting to put the leather in her mouth. "Warnings, at least let me know when you're going to do something so I can be ready." she requests. Teeth clamping down on the leather she opens her eyes again. This time watching his hands.

Miguel nodded once Essie's eyes were open. Then he took his scalpel and his forceps and dug into her shoulder. He tried to do as little damage as possible, but it was hard when the flesh was already inflamed. Not getting the bullet out would be worse. The chance of infection would be high. So he kept going, until his hands came back bloody, a big piece of shrapnel in his grasp. He poured more disinfectant in the wound and let it soak before he got out the needle, driver, and thread. "Alright. Just a couple stitches to keep it closed." There would be a puckered scar, but she would live. She would need water and rest, but the halfway house could provide those.

Essie keeps her jaw tense so as not to make any noise. It's difficult. The entire process excruciating but she keeps her eyes locked on the process taking place on her shoulder. She focuses on hand movements and after the bullet is out she lets her eyes follow it as something to hold onto. Tears leak out the corners of her eyes unable to stop them, unable to wipe them away either as they trail down the sides of her face. "Just do it fast." she says muffled around the leather in her mouth.

The stitches took no time at all. One, two, and knot. Miguel wiped at her wound and squeezed her arm. "All done. Drink a lot of liquids and rest. You need it. I'll clean up."

Essie sits up slowly. A hand moving up to hover over the stitches in her arm changing direction last second to instead tug on her blood soaked clothing. The hole in her dress causing her to grimace, but able to ignore the pain now that she wasn't so worried about blood loss. "How much?" she asks the doctor. "For your services and your silence?"

Miguel sighed. He hated this part. "This covers my time and supplies." He wrote a number on his pad and left it on the nightstand. "You don't have to pay extra for silence." He started rolling up the carpet, it was thoroughly ruined. But it was easier to replace the rug than get the stains out of the wood floor.

Essie eyes the doctor and glances at the price. "Who are you loyal to?" she asks him. Making to stand up and out of his way. Pleased that she would not have to do the cleanup and that this certain job he would do without being asked. Shrugging her coat back on with slowed movements she watched him move around the room. "I won't be staying here though."

"The Hippocratic Oath," Miguel grumbled. "I help everyone. I don't have loyalty to any one family." He hefted the rug over his shoulder and started out of the room. "Wherever you do it, Essie. Be safe."

Joey opened his mouth to protest but Cassie was already gone before he could stop her. He knew not to argue with her in most cases, and she'd do what she wanted even if he had, but he also knew it was his job to protect her during this hand off. Still, he did as he was told, pulling off and heading around the block to the alley at the back of he large house. He parked and got out, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the car to wait for Cassie to come out the back so he could start unloading. But minutes ticked by and the tobacco burned down to the filter on two different cigarettes before he started to sweat a bit. But he trusted her, so he waited.

Isa felt the relief wash over her that she was still in, only nodded though. Playing it cool and all of that. “I’m going to get the names,” she said firmly. She needed the money, yes, but there was a small part of her that enjoyed the challenge. It was definitely better, made it a lot more bearable to have something to pay attention while somebody she did not feel any kind of desire for was in her bed. 

There was a new glint in her eyes when Ephram pulled out the dollarpounds, placing the mug back onto the table. “The hip is still ailing, the cow died about a week ago,” she gave the reply to his question that was mostly fiction. Her mother did live on the country, but her hip was just fine and they never had cows. She walked over to Ephram slowly and took the bills. “Thank you,” she said and before she did anything else, she took the money and put it into the drawer of her table. She’d hide it later with the rest, but for now, it made her feel better to not have it out in the open. 

And then she undid her dress and let it drop around her legs, stepping out of it and walking back to Ephram as she turned her brain over to work mode. “Where do you want me?” she asked, her fingers toying with his clothing, looking up at him with a question in her eyes whether he wanted her to undress him or not.

"I want you," Ephram said, letting his fingers trail along her silken slip with his callouses catching and pulling, "exactly where you are." He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, the paper coming apart in a twirl of tobacco, and put the side of his face against Isa's stomach, breathing in deep. "Brindle needs to think that you're loyal to him," Ephram told her, wrapping his arm around Isa's thighs, just under the lush curve of her backside. "He's not foolish, but he's arrogant. Be impressed by everything he tells you, even if it's a particularly prodigious piss he took that morning." Ephram breathed a damp circle against the silk, tugging it up until his lips were brushing skin.

Skull Boys tended to be ex-fighters, ex-military, ex-whatever sort of man had plenty of brawn and nowhere to expend it anymore. The one who marched Cassie down the alley beside Clair de Lune and into a damp, deep alcove between two buildings was clearly of the first sort, from his missing teeth and cauliflower ear. "Thinking up taking work as a whore now that daddy's kicked the bucket, Miss Kingfisher?" he leered, using the gun to wave Cassie over to a few wooden crates where he indicated she should sit. He kept himself angled to see if anybody should pass by the alcove, continuing, "Skull Boys hears that you've been seen taking meetings with your brother. Now we know that Kingfisher's not about to hand business matters over to some broad with two brats, but that don't mean you're not important, does it."

Cassie walked lightly down the alleyway, stealing a few quick glances to the Skull Boy crook that guided her until she was met with the boxes and signaled to take a seat. The mention of whoring only had her chuckling for a moment and she smoothed her coat as she followed directions and sat patciently. "I told you. I was meeting a friend. You've seen me with my brother? Than why the hell would I waste my time on prostitiion." She clicked her tongue in disapproval at the stupidity of the idea and crossed her ankles. "What do you want? The longer you keep me, the harder Slap Jacks will come down on your sorry ass."

The boxer sneered, "Oh yeah? What kind of friend does a fancy lady like you have at a place like this wot shits out reprobates of all types day and night? Run that mouth all you want, Miss, it won't change your situation any. Skull Boys could use Slap Jacks as toothpicks if we had a mind to. This right here? Is a courtesy." He moved to the edge of the alcove, keeping an eye on Cassie as he took a quick glance around. "Right, look sharp and reconsider answering our questions, if you want to keep all your pretty teeth." The boxer flattened himself against the wall to allow a woman into the alcove, as small as Cassie herself but with a fluffy cloud of bleached-blonde hair under a wide-brimmed dark hat. 

"That's my business." Cassie told the boxer calmly only just barely starting to sweat when the man threatened her directly. The fact of the matter was, she wasn't armed. If she had been, she was sloppily trained at best. So she didn't really understand the Skull Boys angle here, unless they were lower than dirt and simply didn't care. "Ask your questions, the important ones, instead of playing around." Cassie practically commanded of the boxer, but then it all became clear as another set of heels clicked on the cobblestones.

The blonde woman walked up to Cassie and tapped the box Cassie was sitting on with her skull-topped cane. "Be straight with me, bitch," the woman said in a tone as sweet as if she was inviting Cassie to tea. "You know as well as I do that it's the female of the species that's deadlier, hmm? And I've always wanted a little girl and boy of my very own. Bang bang, you're dead." The woman smiled, fingers held like cap guns.

Isa wanted to point out that Ephram wasn't saying anything she didn't know already. That was what her job entailed, whether she was trying to get information out of somebody or just making them believe they were the best fuck of her life despite being a paying customer. It's what kept them coming back. Feeling like they were amazing, feeling like they were listened to, when their wives, their girlfriends, their sidepieces, sometimes their mothers weren't doing the same. She ran her fingers through his hair, playing with a lock of his, letting him guide what would happen for now. 

"Yeah, I can do that," Isa said, sounding completely genuine, as if she's never thought about this before, as if Ephram himself came up with the most brilliant idea ever. Whether he realized she was doing the same thing with him he was suggesting her to do on Brindle, she didn't care. "He talks a lot, you know. Complains mostly, but it goes on and on for a long time. But I can definitely act like it's the most interesting thing I've ever heard."

Ephram, truthfully, wasn't considering that at all, taking at face value that Isa had found his somewhat redundant orders as completely fresh and new. It was the scent that wafted from her silken underthings that he was more focused on, the shift of her belly as she breathed and spoke, the feel of her fingers in his hair. "That's enough about Brindle," he said abruptly, looking up at her with his hands tightening on her custard-smooth thighs. That was enough about government contracts, and extorting information, and Slap Jacks, and even fucking Kingfisher. 

Ephram reached up to pull Isa down, rising slightly from the bed so that he could kiss her hot and hard with his hand tangling in the dark hair that spilled over the nape of her neck. "Undo my trousers. I want you riding me, Isa, you got your fucking money -- give me something better than you give that bastard Brindle." A corner of his lip twitched up in a grimace, hand in her hair clenching.

This boxer wasn't the man in charge. He couldn't possibly be. Cassie stared at the woman in the widebrimmed hat, taking in her words and only flinching when she raised her fingers like...pop guns. Cassie got the message loud and clear. That was a crossed line. "Let's play straight then. What business do the Skull Boys want with Kingfisher? I was overseeing firearm delivery for my brother. That's all I have."

The woman practically purred, opening the dark mink coat she wore and letting it hang open over her gown, dripping with jet beads. "See, Bosco? I knew if we just snatched up a lady, we'd get some answers instead of the runaround. Eminently more reasonable than you barrels of testosterone and ..." She reached over to drag one manicured fingernail down Bosco's chest, "...other things." 

Turning her attention back to Cassie, she said, "We haven't been introduced, how ditzy of me. My name's Petal Popovitch. Nice to do business with you, Cassie Kingfisher." She sat on one of the other wooden crates, crossing her legs and lighting a cigarillo. "Now, about this firearm delivery. I'm not really interested in your firearm delivery -- I'm more concerned about the other party involved." Petal directed a level stare at Cassie. "You know who I'm talking about, don't you."

Cassie watched Petal carefully as she took the seat next to her, lifting a thumb to chew the nail down to the nub with anxiety. "Freddie Watts?" She spoke, mostly to clarify that this was who The Skull Boys were after. The thing was, Freddie wasn't family. She'd rat on a potential business partner with the drop of a hat, especially if her kids were put at risk. Ephram would forgive her. "You have to tell me if he has a golden dick, or something." Cassie laughed bitterly. "Aside from the frocks, I simply don't see the appeal. Anyways." She shrugged that curiosity about Freddie away, "What do you want to do with Watts? I'm not his keeper."

Petal threw back her head in a laugh, saying, "It doesn't matter to me, darling, if he has a gold dick or three dicks or no dick at all. It's Watts' sparkly fingers and the promise of access to more jewels that entices me." Puffing on her slim cigar, Petal said, "--he hasn't offered to share that side of the business with Slap Jacks? Huh." 

She shook her head. "Greedy boy. But this does change the relationship between you and me, I'm afraid." Petal gave a regretful sigh. "If you've got nothing on Watts and nothing interesting to do with Jacks, then your only value is as a hostage. You've been one before, I assume? Growing up the extra, and all. The spare imitation Kingfisher."

Essie crosses her arms as the doctor leaves. She'll find a way to slip a little extra his way, he's good at his job and she appreciates his discretion. Essie tucks her coat further around herself and heads for the door. She heads down the halls and out the back door. Pausing in the threshold looking at a stationary car with a figure in it. In the wake of a discussion gone bad she's weary, her fingers tucks into her coat and over the handle of a gun. One of many she's always got on her person. Squinting into the windshield of the car she recognises the face.

Joey saw a somewhat familiar face exiting the house and sighed with relief, almost kicking off the car as he flicked his fifth cigarette in a row away. “Ms Caird,” he began as he jogged up to her. “Did you see Ms Kingfisher in there?”

Essie moves her hands away from her firearms and pulls her coat over her blood soaked dress. "Ms Kingfisher? No I haven't. Did you drop her off?" Essie wonders still holding the door open and looking back down the hall. "I walked the place just now, no sight of her."

Joey grimaces at Essie's answer. "Shit," he grumbles, panic setting in. This was bad on so many angles. If anything bad happened to Cassie, he'd kill whoever was responsible. But also he lost Ephram's sister, and that could result in him being dead before he had a chance to even kill a house fly. And on top of it all, he had this shipment he couldn't leave alone. "Look, I think we've got a situation on our hands. Cassie was supposed to go in front and arrange for the shipment drop off, but if she never made it in..." God, his stomach hurt. "I've gotta look for her, but I can't leave the car alone."

Isa kissed him back hard and strong, her fingers in his hair slipping down to his neck and pulling him close as if all she wanted to do was kiss him, as if she's been waiting for this, needing this to happen since the first moment she walked into her room and saw him on her bed. Her fingers worked his trousers, opening it quickly just enough for his cock to be out on the open, her fingers working it to get it ready before she quickly slipped out of her undergarment and straddled Ephram, sinking down onto him. "You feel so good, so filling in me," she breathed against his ears, husky and sulky, like she's never had better before, while she started to move on him.

Ephram knew, logically, that this was as much a pretence as the performance at the old man's gravesite. And strangely, that made the encounter eminently more satisfying. A lie agreed upon was more honest in its own way than actual feelings that required cold, constant vivisection to make sure nothing was being missed. He groaned as Isa pushed herself onto his cock with the skill required of her profession, his hands spanning her waist and rucking up her slip as her voice, just as silken as the heat inside her, started to drip honeyed words. Not new ones, but dammit -- gangland boss Ephram might be, but he was a man as well. And he liked to hear how good he fucked just as much as the next.

Growling, he turned them and shoved Isa down on the bed, gripping her thigh to tug her leg up higher as he drove into her. The glass ashtray spilled its contents onto the sheets and smeared their clothes, the parts of their skin that were exposed, as Ephram thrust over and over. "Say it again," he demanded, his dark-blown eyes meeting hers in the command. "How much you want this. How good it feels." He rolled his hips forward, then held still, panting. "No," Ephram said, changing his mind as he looked down at Isa. "Tell me something new. Tell me something true. Do that for me, Isa."

Cassie raised her brows at the mention of Freddie having hand in jewels. No, that wasn't information she knew. Ephram? Maybe. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. He's almost as slick as they come." Cassie tried not to look concerned at the mention of changed relationship. What did that mean? This Petal Popovitch clearly enjoyed teasing and rousing. "You want Watts? You can have him. He's dirty. But I'm honestly a little offended Petal." Cassie placed a hand over her heart, "You take me, jerk me around, and assume I'm a throw away nobody?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Why waste the energy? This is the kind of business model my father couldn't stand. The games. From one woman to another," Cassie stared at her. "You might wanna look a little deeper."

"Oooooh!" Petal wriggled on her crate seat, leaving her cigarillo in her mouth for a moment to clap in delight. "That's a relief, I tell you, Cassie, a real honest relief. Not about Watts, that can be filed under Other Business for now. But you!" Petal held out her hands, gesturing at Cassie, before taking her little cigar from her lips. "For a moment there I was prepared to be disappointed. I know what it's like, after all, being--" she made a face, rolling her eyes, "the girl in the gang. Nobody takes you seriously!" 

Petal made a moue of commiseration, until something occurred to her and she cocked her head. "Your brother does, though, doesn't he? That's the little deeper part of it, hmmm?" She gave a sly grin, twirling her cigarillo in Cassie's direction. "You two scamps are trying to pull something over on us all. Go on, tell me! You've all but admitted it already."

Essie purses her lips at the man. "A shipment of what?" she asks seriously. "I'll stay here if you tell me. Depending on the cargo. You should inform your...organisation as quickly as you can before you go looking." she suggests. "Backup on the way is always a good thing. And let them know who's with the shipment."

"Your guns," Joey hissed quietly. The cargo wasn't high on his priority list any more. But knowing someone that cared about it would watch over it was comforting, at least to save his ass. "Get in," he said, gesturing she round the car. "I don't have time to let anyone know. Every second counts." Once she was inside, he drove a little way down the alley, going slow and glancing down each adjoining alleyway down the block. That's when he saw a car blocking one of them, and a group of people further down. "Shit, shit, shit...."

Bosco made a hupping sound from the mouth of the alcove. "Company on the way, boss," he said, raising the gun he was holding. Petal looked put out, but rallied quickly. "Looks like you and me are going for a ride, toots," she said, standing and doing up her mink again, taking Cassie by the elbow in a startlingly strong grip. "Shift it, and quick."

Cassie shook her head with a sigh, "Aw Petal, the camaraderie. It's sweet." But a part of Cassie wanted to bash the woman's face in, or at least have one of the Slap Jacks do it. For threatening her kids. She wouldn't forget that. "Unfortunately the Kingfisher's have very little interest in you and your bucks. I'm sorry to inform you." Cassie tilted her chin up slightly, "So unless you have something to offer-" But Cassie's digs and cuts at the other mob boss was cut short when the boxer came back, and Petal was pulling her towards a car for escape. "And here come the revelry. What was that Petal? Five minutes tops?"

Essie glanced at the car and nods once. Her own guns, well. Not hers any longer as they'd been signed over. Getting into the car with a man heavily integrated with a gang like the slap jacks wasn't high on her list of things to do. But at that moment she wanted to affiliate with them, she might have just been stitched up but perhaps this would aid her business in the long run. Or at least if this guy got himself killed she could drive the shipment back to Watts. Pulling one of her guns as they drive she spots what Joey does. "Your call, but I warn you, I'm not looking for as much trouble as you are."

Joey jumped out of the car like a jackrabbit, digging into his waistband for his revolver. “Stay here,” he says to Essie. No need to get her too involved in this, as she made clear. Moving into the alley, he saw a glimpse of Cassie being pushed into a car by a woman, before that car sped away too quick for Joey to even aim his gun at the tires. There were two men heading toward him though, trying to get to the car close to the opening of the alley. Without hesitation, Joey aimed and shot one of them in the head, the body slumping to the cobblestone in a heap. 

Joey grabbed the other man by the neck, shoving him up against the brick as he aimed his revolver at his head. He quickly reached down to unarm the man before returning a hand to his neck and squeezing slightly. “Where are they taking her?” he hissed. “WHERE ARE THEY TAKING HER?!” he then yelled before the man even had a chance to respond.

Skull Boys were loyal to a fault, and Skull Boys didn't hesitate when it came to dealing death -- either for others, or their own. The heavy who Joey grabbed didn't show any fear, even less care about the sudden violent demise of his companion, and he gave a gold-toothed smile even as he struggled for breath. "Where the boss lady takes things that she wants alterations done on em," he said, tongue lashing against his cheek with lurid suggestion.

Essie had no qualms about staying where she was, she was in absolutely no hurry to be shot at again that day. Maybe she wanted credit for helping out, but she wasn't willing to go far into danger herself for it. She recognised one of the skull boys, but the next moment his head was blown and his body had hit the pavement. Standing half out of the car she watches Joeys attempt at interrogation. "Break all his fingers." she suggests unhelpfully.

Isa was rocking on Ephram, putting her best performance forward like she did with everyone else - this was a kind of acting, just the one most people looked down on, even though it probably brought the most pleasure to the people who came to her bed, and she could tell Ephram was enjoying it. No surprise to Isa, what man didn't like to hear just how good he was, that he was fucking so good even a prostitute liked what he was doing. 

He swiftly turned them around, shoving Isa onto the bed and she opened her legs just a little wider, more inviting, while her mind momentarily wandered just how her sheets and her slip would need extra washing because of the cigarette's ash. He then asked her to tell him something true, and she pulled him down and kissed him hard instead of answering him right away, buckling her hips up against him. 

"Your lips, they are soft and inviting, but when you kiss, it's hard and demanding. I like that," she said, something that sounded like the truth, maybe because half of it was, and maybe because it wasn't something she usually said. Wasn't the kind of compliment most people wanted to hear.

Ephram gave a growl as his movements against and into Isa grew shorter and deeper, the iron bedhead clanging against the wall. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, thumb stroking her cheekbone, and said in a strangled, low voice, "--good enough," before ducking his face against her throat and coming with a cracked, stifled cry. He stayed there for a few heartbeats, catching his breath, and then raised his head to plant a firm kiss on the corner of her mouth. 

Pulling out, Ephram sat up on the side of the bed again and lit a fresh cigarette, puffing hard on it as he tucked himself away and did up his trousers. "Here," he said shortly, tugging off the amethyst cabochon he wore on his pinkie finger and tossing it onto Isa's body. "For your trouble. And the fine performance."

Isa's movements became ragged, her thurst upward getting more and more erratic, her panting getting harder as Ephram was clearly getting close to the climax, and when he dropped his face against her throat, she cried out, pretending to have come. She hasn't actually come from a client in... well, probably never, but they didn't come to her to know that. She once against ran her fingers through Ephram's hair, stroking his head while he caught her breath, still heaving as if she was trying to catch her breath too, and after he pulled away and sat up, she pushed herself up against in a sitting position and leaned against the bed frame. 

"You've got one for me too?" Isa asked nodding towards the cigarette danging from his mouth. When he threw something at her, she picked it up quickly, her heart starting to beat faster now when she realized what it was. She looked up at Ephram and then back down onto the ring. "Happy to be of service, please do come back whenever you're in need." She looked at him for a long moment in silence before she turned the conversation back onto her task. "How time sensitive is Brindle thing, Ephram? How long do I have until I need to get it all out of him?"

Ephram shut his eyes when Isa sat up, securing the ring he'd given her and turning immediately back to the topic of Brindle. Kingfisher business a tap-tap-tapping at his skull without a moment's respite, even with the taste of her eroding under the cigarette smoke at the back of his throat. He stood up, long fingers flicking a cigarette from his case; he swapped it for the one he'd just begun, using the lit cigarette to light the new one and then handing it over to Isa. "Till the end of October," he said, raking his fingers through his damp hair and one-handedly doing up the top button of his shirt. "Conservatively. If anything new arises--" 

Gunshots rang through the air outside, and Ephram reached over to Isa, hand on her shoulder urging her down lower on the bed." Stay there," he snapped, and went over to the window to peer out, his own handgun unholstered from his shoulder harness in the two steps between bed and curtains.

Joey bashed the enforcer's head against the brick behind him at the mere suggestion of the Skull Boys doing something to Cassie, pressing the barrel of the gun right between his eyes. "Don't yank my chain, asshole. Tell me the truth or you die like your friend." At Essie's suggestion, Joey smiled a bit. "Now that's an idea." Gun still square on him, superior body weight holding him in place, Joey took his free hand and snapped two of the man's finger's in one swift motion. "TALK!"

Essie steps out of the car. Joey was trying to do an awful lot at once. Feeling at no personal danger she moves forward and puts her own gun to his head. "Focus please. Fingers. Information. Holding him to the wall." she requests of Joey, trying to lighten his load for a moment. She looks at skull boy and hums. "You can't be talking about a tailors now, speak up."

Skull Boys might be tough, but their bones broke like anybody else's. The man howled, spittle flying from his mouth at the force of the sound. "There's a dress shop!" he yowled. "That's all I know, a shop south of the river, it's all I know, the boss lady don't tell us rank and file where exactly she does her business, you know she wouldn't!" He yanked, trying to pull his hand away, and then leaned forward and sank his snaggle teeth into what meat of Joey's shoulder he could manage, eyeing Essie as if he'd lunge for her next.

Essie squinted at the man when he spoke. However the sudden movement was not lost on the young woman. She steps back as teeth dig into Joeys shoulder. Her gun shifting from the skull boys face to his crotch and she fired off a shot quickly, the look didn't sit well with her.

Joey was appreciative of Essie coming to lighten his load. He'd felt like he'd been juggling chainsaws trying to keep the man in place and be menacing at the same time. Finally, the man talked, and Joey believed him. He knew what it was like only be told the bare minimum to get the job done. Not trusted or rewarded with the details. He was ready to let the man go, honestly, until the man straight up BIT him. He stifled a cry of pain and used the hand of his gun to hammer into the side of his head. Essie's gunshot made him jump back, but even as he bled he quickly smiled as the man cried, cradling his bloody trousers on the pavement. 

"I think we're good and done with you," Joey growled, reaching down and snapping the man's neck with his own grunt at the effort. "Good shot, Ms Caird," he said as she stood again, wiping some sweat from his brow as he tried to catch his breath.

The Skull Boys heavy dropped like a sack of soaked cement -- albeit one that screamed and bled profusely -- and once Joey broke his neck, a flat, unnatural silence fell over the alleyway.

Isa slipped the ring onto her fingers for now and nodded at the deadline Ephram gave her. It would be tight, getting anything useful out of Brindle was like trying to find a sober one in a pub aside from the barkeep - practically impossible. But she'd already gotten him to talk, all she needed was to get him to that point again. Ask questions as if she was nothing but a dumb body. She took the cigarette and took a drag of it when the gunshots pierces the relative silence around them, and Isa jumped in shock and fear, but when Ephram told her to stay where she was, she didn't listen, crawling down onto the floor instead, her heart beating in her throat now. "What the hell is happening?" she hissed at Ephram.

Ephram swore viciously when he scanned the street further down from Clair de Lune and saw no outlines of any cars. There was no way that Ruby had already opened her hiding-holes for the storage of the Slap Jacks weapons shipment, which could only mean that something had gone wrong before the boarding house had seen even one of Essie Caird's guns. "Nothing good," he said roughly, and looked over at the bed, about to say something when he realized that Isa was no longer there. 

Going over to where she was half-tucked under her bed, Ephram bent down, holding the sheets up. "That's a good place to stay," he said, any traces of a person other than a cold-blooded gangster evaporating with each word. "If you hear shooting downstairs, get under the floorboards. Don't come up until an hour after everything falls silent." He looked over the bed at the door, then back down at Isa. 

For a moment it seemed like he might say something -- maybe ask her something -- but then Ephram let the sheet drop, the thump of his booted feet circling the bed and fading as he left.

Essie lowers her gun as Joey snaps the mans neck. "I'm always a good shot." she says in return. "Location. You have a location. The locals might have already called the cops about the shots this is not the place to stay any longer, not with a shipment of munitions this big. No time to load them into wherever they were going in this place and no time to waste not going to this unknown tailors." she speaks quickly. On high alert she raises her gun when she hears steps coming down the alleyway.

Joey knew she was right. He started going over the scene to make sure they hadn't left any evidence behind. "I've got to take the shipment back to the compound first. Ephram should be roped in on this." He grimaced at the thought. "You don't gotta stick with me. But thanks for the help."

Ephram came down the alleyway at a dead run, taking in the two corpses and the Slap Jacks shipment car before he reached the other two and gesturing at the deceased men with his gun. "What the fuck is this?" he demanded, aghast. "Is that our shipment? Why are you in this alley and where--" Ephram almost raised his gun in Joey's direction.