#vulpesque

A hand finds the bridge of his nose - massaging the annoyance from his system (or at least attempting to) as the Branwen fights the need to aggressively roll his eyes at the girl’s words. “That’s not... How it works kid. If ya break your hand I can promise ya his face is gonna be perfectly fine.”

Qrow isn’t exactly a specialist in hand to hand - but a former teammate taught him enough to be able to know that punching someone shouldn’t involve any broken bones on your side. At least, not any that you’ve broken yourself. He doesn’t appreciate Oz sending him to handle the kids he can’t though. Rolling his eyes, Qrow covers the distance between them with an easy stride. “Thumb outside your fingers. Ya break your hand punchin’ someone and then you’re jus’ in pain and fucked for what comes next. Do me a favour and don’t be a brat about it yeah?”

Scarred fingers wrap around her hand - pushing her fist into the correct position and testing it against his palm irritably. Her words make him pause, though. Oh how he wanted to take that as a challenge and correct her on the very wrong statement he’s sure she’ll regret later. But he’s being paid to be here he should at least--actually? You know what? Fuck it. “I know that you’re a brat with a temper on ya and Oz suggested I do somethin’ about it fer your own sake. Somethin’ tells me that it’s you that’s forgotten what the real world is like - me? I know more than ya ever will. Now punch my hand without breakin’ any bones so I can go get a drink without havin’ your whinin’ in my ear.”

Jade didn’t expect the hug given that she technically wasn’t supposed to be here, but the canine recognized the exhaustion in her face and just let it happen.

The woman chuckled and... tentatively hugged her fellow vixen back.

A child did not belong here. Slim in stature, still fresh enough that his cheeks remain rounded && cherubic, Mercury looks much like a spider lily placed in a bouquet of plain daisies. Darling, by the standards of most maternally inclined women && perhaps even some of the more fatherly men among this motley, terrifying group - but undoubtedly out of place. Despite his features, his gray eyes are sharp, weaving through the crowd as they make way for him.

Mercury has earned his place among them with is savagery, razor wit, && unending determination.

He comes with the intent of selecting another request - hopefully one that would take him from the cabin he currently resides in with his breeder. scanning the listings, only one catches his gaze that meets his criteria.

The request to discover the identity of the mysterious Lady Nightingale. Plucking it from the board, he reads the paper thoroughly. The writing is perfectly penned - whoever wanted the woman’s identity must carry a grudge.

The price for her identification is high. Capturing her - if they are even a her in the first place - is even higher.

Replacing the paper upon its’ perch against the cork, he takes his marker && stamps it upon the red line that indicated who was currently in the middle of such a monumental undertaking. Turning around, he notices a new face - or perhaps an old one, freshly returned from a task of their own.

he looks at shattered porcelain in gloved hands - the mask had been shattered. it was a bittersweet feeling. he didn’t know how he’d feel about it, if it’d ever happened - he never needed to replace it, in almost four years of school. but... it was gone, now.

he stands up, his seat in a secluded area of the airship beginning to feel like a prison. there’s no aim to where he walks - he needs to move. he needs to calm his beating heart. there’s a window - and he approaches, hand reaching to press itself against the nearly shattered glass, and he looks down.

there are flames, ruins, craters. grimm running freely - he fears that he would see someone running, someone who was left behind. he can still hear their screams. he can hear people calling for help, their voices being snuffed out with claws or fangs.

Squints at her, rolls his eyes and walks off. He doesn’t have time for immature games such as this - doesn’t even grace her with a verbal response.

She has to admit that she is pleased by what she had found with the wide variety of her clientele. She looks up when the bell rings, watching a tailed woman enter her store. She offers a warm, gentle smile towards her new potential client.

“Welcome to Junan Jewelry,” Kasumi says warmly to her. “What can I do for you?”

Feet sit atop his makeshift desk, hat tipped over his eyes as Roman takes a long drag from his cigarette - his chair tipped back to accommodate his position and rocking ever so slightly with each drag the thief takes. Footsteps on concrete alert him to his visitor finally arriving. A glance to his scroll is enough to tell him that she’s on time.

At least there’s that. 

Roman doesn’t shift his position even as the footsteps draw closer - ever one for dramatics, he simply busies himself with flicking through his scroll until his new hopeful business partner is stood before his desk. A bored expression on his face, Roman takes in the woman before him. His fox ears burn at the sight of a white tail and he has to physically remove his vision from it before anything becomes weird. 

no words are given as the elder faunus ushers her inside, gaze locked on the ground even upon being made to sit. it felt as though even opening her mouth to speak was some herculean task that she didn’t have the strength for and words were, for a change, out of her reach. she hadn’t planned to seek meg out and instead had wandered to the woman’s home in more of a daze than anything. she wasn’t even sure why she’d come here. possibly it was because meg was the only person she felt might listen to her, and finally after what seemed like an eternity she managed to find her voice.