#fatecards

     Gangplank spread his arms on the railing, surveying the floors below. People milled about, some carrying cartons filled with all manner of wealth, some idly joking with one another, some still keeping watch. In the corner, a man held a bottle of rum to his lips, swaying lightly as he finished it, wiped his mouth clean, and placed the now-empty bottle next to a slowly forming group of identical ones.

     Everything seemed normal.

     “Anythin’ from the Red Caps?” Gangplank asked, glancing at the man beside him from the corner of his eye.

     “Nothin’.” 

     His gaze flickered back to the men below. “Would’ve thought they’d have tried to steal somethin’ by now.” Even if both gangs listened to Gangplank, the Red Caps had no way of knowing this warehouse was anything but another Jagged Hook hideout. “Smart of them, though. Still, keep a watch out.” Gangplank lifted his hands from the railing, turning to face the scarred gang member. “I’ve reason to suspect someone’s goin’ to try to steal something, what with the latest haul from Ionia.”

     The gang member offered a quizzical expression, but said nothing as the two began to walk. Gangplank nodded to a passing member of the Hooks, then continued speaking. “There’s a few vases I’d like to sell. People’ll pay more than the garbage is worth.”

     “Could pro’ly convince someone to make a fake. Then we’d get to keep it.”

      “You pay any attention to what goes around here? We’ve done that plenty o’ times. This shit just takes up space. S’not worth more than a few silver serpents. People like getting their grubby fingers on exotic treasures, though.” 

     They turned the corner, passing another man. Abruptly, Gangplank stopped, holding a hand out to indicate his companion should do the same.

      This one seemed a bit too... Lanky for one of the Hooks. Face too pretty for a bilgerat, though difficult to see in the dark. He was unmarred, unscarred, with no tattoos that Gangplank could see. 

     “Who’s he?”

     The gang member offered a shrug. 

     Gangplank’s gaze flickered between the Hook and the stranger, before he squared his shoulders, angled his head, and crossed his arms.