Riding with a Fawkes

[Circe]

Circe drove her car down the road, slowing down at the intersection Fawkes had given her. Her eyes scanned the area. Rough neighborhoods meant little to her as she often had customers in such areas.

This was the right location, and her red Charger did stand out. So this begged a question. Where was Fawkes?

[Fawkes]

The Elemental has a small nimbus of nicotine around his silhouette as he squints at the river, pale mask lit up by the light of his phone. Circe had an...interesting way of texting. He wondered sometimes how old she was, and whether this was an appropriate conversation to be having. He pockets the device and exhales, watching for a form to bubble to the surface just in case the weights didn't take. Not his work: just disposal this time.

Cleaning off the last bit of residue with a black cloth, his attention clicks as the rumble of an engine. He is slow to emerge from the bank, peering at the signature of the vehicle before revealing himself in the light. The mannequin gives a two fingered salute, putting out the cigarette before slipping into the vehicle as the heat of her Mantle is needled with the thick smell of iron.

"Thanks for coming. How have you been?"

[Circe]

Circe didn't mind the nicotine cloud. The red leather seats could air out and the same went for her crimson coat. She hums in amusement as Fawkes arrives, "Eh lil' good. Work is fine. Club is crazy. So what that sayin'? Situation normal, all fucked up?" The second to last word is squeaked out with a laugh, "And how about yerself?"

Circe raises up in her seat to take a look around, "And do I need ta floor it?"

[Fawkes]

Fawkes blinks at the high pitched shift in Circe's tone, closing the door as he watches her. "It'll be worked out."

At her second question he shakes his head, "No need to wake up the nice folks around here," they knew things were kept peaceful if they didn't stick their noses out. He wasn't sure if she was playing around, "Why do you ask? If you want to take it to a back road for speed, I won't say no."

He's silent for a minute while she gets her bearings, thinking on her initial prompt. "Things have been a little irritating lately." The tone is even and without any specific investment, as one would describe the rain.

The mannequin looks out the passenger window as if listening for something, staring past his reflection with the outside world black in the night. "Question. I know you said you grew up mafia. How do you manage that? Why do you do it?"

[Circe]

"Oh good," she smirks as she starts to drive them off, "Was fer a second I'd get some speed holes in my chassis. It is waaaay to fine a chassis fer extra holes." A reference and an innuendo all in one. As for his answer, "Ugh, club politics in our own, uh," she shrugs, "Yeah I don't know what we call the Courts fer that whole club speak thing. I'm stuck playing diplomat. Again," she mumbles something about violence and answers with a groan of no at the end.


Then he asks her about her time before the worst dream ever. That makes her blink as her eyes dart over to him, and away from the road. Though she still manages to dodge the Lyft that had stopped before them without warning and to give the car the finger. All without looking. "Ooookay, fun question. And I'm guessin' ya think I chose ta join young. Nope I am, ya know pretty sure after the shittiest dream ever, that I'm a proper born Cosanostra," she smiles proudly, "Literally born inta it. Honor and rules were just as important as leg breaking." The smile fades, "Also I was a much brattier bitch. So that's kinda the how and, uh, maybe sorta the why?" She didn't sound sure of the last part. "I mean, it's what I know and I'm pretty good at moving boomsticks without tariffs. I mean, Thorns and smuggling. It doesn't get easier then that. Why ya askin'?"


She then frowns, "Also I get ta ask questions back, it's only fair. Either that or I get ta sing really annoying songs and ya can't complain."

[Fawkes]

Fawkes snorts at her complaints. "Told you you didn't want Sun's Tongue. I spoke with Cole. Forces of nature. Told him how he can help himself. I'll see if he's capable of absorbing new information beyond what feeds his ego. Went okay. No one got hurt." He flexes his hands pensively, leaving out his personal opinion.

"Questions are fair." His attention trails back to her. "I'm asking for a point of reference. I don't know you, other than your occupation. Do you keep to just the low level stuff?" The tier didn't denote any talent or rank; just the level of involvement she had with the blacker side of the criminal world. Moving guns and occasional thugging wasn't serial torture or violent extortion on a grand scale.

[Circe]

Circe laughs, "Yes ya did, yes ya did," about Sun Tongue. And Fawkes seemed a lot calmer about his time with Cole then Richard did. So maybe their good king was projecting too much. "I heard Cole and Richard escalated their not getting along," rather obvious bait if Fawkes chooses to take it.

The car swerves suddenly to dodge a man too busy texting to pay attention. "Depends on which stuff yer talking about. Overall crime or what I move. Fer what I move," Circe's blue lips part for a smile, "If yer hopin' fer a tank ta crush things with that is a lil' too high fer me. Longarms with custom mufflers is the most I could get ya." After a pause she offered, "I also wear a black hat online ta crack inta people's shit. Used ta do that in meat space too," she not had need for lock picks and black spysuits for a while though, "But not as profitable these days. Oh and just in case yer wondering," she looks ta Fawkes, "Ya can't pull Glamour off of the Internet when the mundies ain't live with ya. No matter how much ya troll them. Suppose that means I'm mostly low level on the mundy stuff. At least unless I do start moving tanks."

Always have ambition.

She could take a hint though. Fawkes had at least some knowledge of crime time. "My turn," she said as she did take a hard left to make a light. It worked. "I don't know what yer occupation is. Or interests in the," sarcasm dripped from her tongue now, "seedy underbelly of society," she looks ta Fawkes as the car suddenly stops. Red light. "So what would ya call yer job and how's yer criminality level?"

[Fawkes]

Fawkes slammed a hand against the dash board to prevent his face from connecting with it. He makes a sound at the back of his throat as she carries on with rough ride. "Oh. The other meeting," he punctuates the statement, either sounding annoyed or surprised.

"Yeah. He almost committed treason over being reminded of his Mantle. He only reacts favourably when you never question him. I don't like that. It's going to get him killed. Richard asked him what he could do to foster his place in the Court and was told to 'sit the fuck down when the time of Wrath comes'. Not an ounce of goddamn respect."

"And tries to emotionally manipulate by blaming his nature and how he can't trust people who talk smooth. He's fucking surrounded by Fairest and Elementals make a business of learning how to work with their environment. We're just dumb about nuances and empathetic connection." The rant is unexpected and as calm as his previous statement. The only sign of his extreme anxiety over the matter is the fact that he starts chewing his nail between statements. Eyes flick to Circe, and he keeps going.

"He's just mad his dick got stepped on. His attitude is being treated as anyone would expect. My Court isn't a fucking involuntary therapy group for Antisocial Personalities. He can adapt like everyone else. Richard treats him the same as everyone else and tells a Mud Grunt when he is acting like a fucking baby. But you know," he gestures, "Like a Troll would."

"Cole's issue is entirely ego-based and not because Richard won't handle him with mittens. Cole would just treat him even shittier if he rolled over, and then he wouldn't be King. Cole needs to learn how to be reasonable, not the rest of us cater to his bullshit. We're not doing him any favours protecting him from how people work. Next Ogre that rolls in will rip his head off. His allies might as well help him now."

He laughs, a rusted bark of a noise as he covers his mouth. "He punched Abraham during an official meeting and spat on Seraphina's hospitality. I don't know how you piss off Sera. But he managed it."

The Elemental takes a breath, air making a high pitched whine that is barely detectable as it's forced between the layered shards in his wind pipe. "Sorry. I seem to be talking a lot these days."

He changes the topic as if nothing had happened without missing a beat. "Internet? I got one better: I was stupid enough to try and draw Sorrow and Fear from a ghost." He gives a small shiver. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Ball jointed fingers tap along the door handle and he focuses on the motion instead of the striking Fairest.

"Um. Do you like it? Your work?"

[Circe]

Circe's expression at the Tale of Cole's Folly, Fawkes version, was much less animated then with the Dick version. The part about Fairest gets a laugh from her as she says, without a hint of irony, "Well Hollow Hearts tend ta manipulative asshole."

She does interrupt him when he says My Court with a quip of, "Our," but lets him keep going. She was getting more out of what happened then she did from Richard. Green light and the elf grimaces as the mention of the thing with Abraham. That Circe failed to notice while fucking around on her phone. "Its good ta talk and I was sorta there fer the punch, eh heh heh heh, and I became a great PSA about bein' distracted by yer cellphone right there. My buddy queen with no fucks ta give probably didn't help with his expectations."

After a turn she has to ask, "I have trouble seein' Richie trollin' anybody. I mean I can be an asssss, wait ya mean a real Troll not an Internet one don't ya? Nevermind! Imma meet Cole eventually. Planned fer a Hedgespun giant robot before he got probation. Any suggestions fer his penance?"

The ghost part made Circe hit the breaks from laughing, "Oh ho ho ho ho! I wonder if it gave ya as many death threats as I do startin' a flame war?"

She then gets the Charger back up to speed, "Yes I do like it. Do you like yer work, bein' whatever it happens ta be?" She didn't fail to notice is lack of answer to her question.

[Fawkes]

"Penance?" the mannequin leans his head against the window as he closes his eyes to think. "Um. I thought Richard just wanted him to get a better understanding of structure and authority before he hurts himself. This isn't even a real Banishment." A small crack forms as his brow pinches, "Probably needs a different word. 'Else no one would be talking to him, and that's what Richard has been pushing for. Cole needs to prove he can work with others for the good of the people he's sworn to protect, rather than being laser focused on just himself. A true marker of your character is how you handle disagreements. How you handle yourself when your comfort is pressed, and understanding how to properly utilize your Wrath."

He growls a bit, having wanted to move on from this. Cole gave him anxiety: he had almost killed him twice now because of his inability to deescalate. He didn't like it.

Circe had not been distracted, despite all the frivolous topics she still pulled back to her original question. He opens his eyes, staring down the road, "Do you know what a Sicario is?"