High Striker: IDK, uh, Free Food + Talk

[Kray]

He grunts. ''Uh. The pro boxer would need be Ali or someone like him, to to have a good match up against me.'' He seems resolutely confident about that. ''Those not good enough to make it that far, are not good enough to beat me.'' Her look of approval however is meat with one of hesitation. ''Hm. Just because I know that doesn't mean I'll use them in anything short of life or death.'' A squint. ''You know what I am Circe, you know what these.'' A darkened finger nail taps stony teeth. ''Mean right.'' It is not a question. Those of my kith could well end of your other board.

Its met with a shrug. ''Ah. Massive physical trauma is when I crush a ribcage or splinter a spine.'' Why does he seem a lot more okay about that if the teeth are a problem? ''Not bruising.'' When you got to do it, do it so they can't just walk it off.

Oh I am going to regret this. ''Oh. I meant more the fist fighting, and not against the stuff.'' Bulbous yellow eyes level squarely at the sovereign. ''Sarah told me she reckons an arm wrestling match between us would be fun to watch.'' Holds the stare. ''But I'm suggesting something more akin to what me and Vincent did. You seem to ned to blow of steam. And what better way to see what your working with.'' Speaking of bruising I reckon this might.

His mind goes to the Olympics. ''Hm. Plenty of sport equipment can be thrown.'' So where would I get Javelins from? ''Nothing illegal about taking up a hobby is there.'' Far from being against crime, but having a good cover helped.

He finishes a beer. ''Uh. Sorry?'' Seems he didn't get it. ''How would wiring up my first make them less lethal?'' Surely I just clobber them and fry them. He shakes his head confused.

Eyebrows raise. ''Is he now?'' Not what I got from him. ''He was bragging he had won brawls against those my size even as he was tapping out the second time.'' Not exactly but the Beasts pride has still been on full display. ''His magic, his skill, his speed.'' The ogre seems distant. ''None of it saved him.'' On a bad day he would have been lunch.

[Circe]

Circe nods when Kray describes his fists. "About the same thing as me having a drum mags and free reign," she tells him, "Bad time. Kray, I shall dub you a master pugilist."


She should look into a drum mag for the AKM. Given how much it took to drop Ann, it would have saved her a reload back then. Sure, she was a Changeling and should really look into her supernatural abilities more that was true. Yet, Sonja Wu had given her a very accurate label. Preferences are a thing.


As for his disdain for bean bags, "Well, that is what the warning label calls it," she defends her words. She has disdain for them too. "Warning labels, liability, exaggeration, disclaimers yadda yadda," she mimes talking with her left hand like sock puppet. Her disdain isn't hidden before she cheerfully declares, "Personally, I find rocksalt funnier. Minor skin abrasions, with salt forced into the skin."


Cruel and effective. A Wrathful Summer Gunbunny's best choice.


The next part, confuses her for a moment. And gets her to laugh, "Oh ho ho ho! I'd pay to see Seraphina try to arm wrestle you, oh ho ho ho ho!" She misunderstood for a moment. Then gets it. "Oh," she picks up on Kray's actual opponent. "Okay," she nods, "You meant Vincent. That'd be a more fair fight. Also," she smirks at him, "It is a fine offer, but I KNOW I am shit at melee. Hence preference for gunfire. Just kinda loud for steam let out here. Fun! But not sublte. That, and I have lost every pugilist I've sparred against."


Circe points at Kray, "You sir! Are thr master pugilist! If there was a magazine for it, I'd vote ya for the cover my friend. Being KO'd would calm," Circe makes air quotes, "Me down. Buuuut, then you'd be sitting here, waiting for me to wake up."


Been there, done that. Didn't have the extra Goblin Fruits to make it practical. Oh, "I'd want to stock up on healing fruits before such a spar. Keep it going longer, more edu-painment."


Sports Equipment? Neat idea!


"True, what else can ya throw that'd be more ouchie than a baseball?" She isn't much of an athlete. But the Olympics? That brings up reminders. "Discus? Hmm, what else did the Olympics, ah!" Kray would describe the expression on her face as mandating a lightbulb above her head. "Spears. Those little ones they throw. Kinda like big arrows, pokey sticks. Probably more legal."


Circe guesses he isn't familiar with stunning weaponry. Cool. "Ah, this may come as a shock, but you are thinking amps. I'm talking voltage," she tries to explain, "It is a key difference. The former, yer foes fry. That is what you are thinking," not an accurate explanation but a valid one. "Lower amp, higher voltage, ya get something that scopa con the nervous system. Leaves 'em twitching and spasming," she recalls a certain product, "Sometimes bowel problems, but those models are called defective for some reason, I don't know," she shrugs and sounds confused about that. She'd think it a selling point. "Oh, ya ever heard of a cattle prod? That is the example."


Granted, they were the oldest example. The gloves were newer. More for grappling than punching shock, but palm strikes were a thing.


As for Vincent, "Is he not a sneaker?" She might be mixing him out. "He didn't do well against the briar wolf either," neither fighting nor befriending it. "To be fair Kray, you are the master pugilist," Circe will continue to call him that. "Not much of a chance of him winning against a master. The mundies aint' got nothing against you."


Circe thinks for a moment, and pats herself down a few times. She pulls out a magazine. Inspects it. Puts it away. Then does it a second time. Third. Fourth. Fifth, "Ah, blanks. Knew I had one for scaring dumb kids," she points the magazine at the table with the tools, "Aaaand I have a suppressor to go with it. Less noise," she gleefully says and skips over to the table. Literally, skips. Her rage has done a full 180 in a heartbeat. "This'll dry the steam, great inspiration Kray."


Circe thought it'd be a great idea. Why? Because guns are involved.

[Kray]

He likes the sound of it, if its a little hard to accept. ''Uh. Master might be a little much.'' He ponders. ''There a step between professional and master? expert? or no does that go above master?'' If chewing words sounded like chewing food it might sound something like his teeth grating together as they do now.

Now to that. ''Bah.'' A new one symbol sound. ''It wasn't always like this people used have brains in their head. Screw what the label says they wouldn't know physical trauma if it lamped them.'' Apparently this is something of a bee in the ogres bonnet. ''You know I saw a can of paint after I got back. They have to put don't consume on it.'' He looks at her in disbelief. ''On Paint Circe.'' Shaking his head as if the if was the world that had gone mad, and not in fact the Ogre himself. ''And I'm meant to be the uneducated one.'' It's not even common sense.

Confusion. Realisation. Confusion again. ''Uh. No she said you and me should arm wrestle.'' Don't know why Can't remember. ''Hm. If it was Vincent I'd tear his arm off by accident.'' He is not strong. Followed by a sigh in relief. ''Maybe your not but I don't doubt your be determined enough to get whatever licks in you could.'' And summer tended to be pretty good at the whole violence thing so the odds are a way would be found to make those licks hurt.

''Oh.'' he reaches into his jacket and pulls out ... a mummerleaf. ''Always keep one on me.'' So if that was the objection. ''Uh. if you need one for your first or something.'' She had punched wood hard enough to leave a hole, even light wood. He holds it out.

A great grey hand comes up to count off on fingers. ''Ah. Discus yep that's one. Javelins are what your thinking of probably for two. We got the baseballs heavy metal cousin the shotput makes three and uh ... oh the hammer toss for a fourth option.'' Not sure how well that one would work in fight but you never know. ''Most of it has to to be legal, how else would people train with them?'' Or easier to acquire anyway.

He tries to follow, he really does but a scientist he is not . ''What's the advantage over just knocking them over the head?'' It sounded tricky, it sounded like something autumn would use ... but it also sounded like reinventing the wheel to an Ogre whose best night night tool is blunt force trauma. ''If you got to make contact either way it doesn't really solve any problems I couldn't solve with a quick blow to the head.'' And that's the crux of Autumn trickery it needs to fight smarter not just more convoluted or fancier.

He just nods. ''Ah. I'd add him to the flee bubble as well.'' If his track record is poor maybe that's why he wanted to impress so bad. Shame he had to try against me.

This is not the first time the fairest has had the proverbial lightbulb come on and thanked Kray for ideas he certainty didn't know he had. But he is getting better at going with it. ''Uh. Any time. Always happy to help.'' If it works for her.

[Circe]

"Grand master is above master," is her only insight into the ranking system. Which she knows from Star Wars. Then suggest, "Contender?"


"What can I say?" She shrugs with a smile, "Mundies are stupid. Common Sense is ironically labeled as such. If either was false, I know I'd not be blue." That was a dark way to look at it. Though there was another way. A much more cliche way she was somewhat familiar with. Not so much now, but before. A certain profession that could be a factor.


"Or, and hear me out on this," she holds up her hand and sips the soda, empty, tosses it onto the table. It doesn't fall off but it isn't standing up on landing. "Or, there are just that MANY lawyers. And that many Darwin Award seekers."


Which was a fair shake. Stupid clients lacking common sense was probably to lawyers what chum was to sharks.


"She could'a been suggesting him," she notes in her defense, "If she was pissed at him. Or wanted to practice her healing." It was possible. Like flying monkeys. "Oh, I'd go down swinging," she cheerfully nods in agreement. "I'd still go down in a boxing match with you Kray, but I'd, hmm," she stops to rub her chin in thought. "Okay, IF you don't haymaker me to KO on the first hit, I'd get a few in before it happens. Gloves or not," another pause as she thinks on something else that comes to mind. "Unless it is the sock 'em kid safe gloves. Then I'd last a while."


It should be impossible to knock out somebody with those gloves. But Ogres.


He was offering the murmur leaf? That was kind. She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a flask. It is white with red patterns to make a first aid symbol. "Thanks Kray, but I juice mine. Easier to carry," she jiggles the flask. "Just thinking. We have enough for 1 round of me getting KO'd. We need more for multiple rounds."


That was an insightful look into throwing options for Kray. She would have to consider it. Sporting good stores would probably provide options, rather than just forging them. "In my experience," she was familiar with the legality issues of weapons. And armor for that matter. "If it don't go bang, boom, or fwooosh," she draws at the latter, "It is mostly legal in Cali. Sports stuff is probably good. Maybe, uh, dress the part? Less suspicious."


Made sense to her, though Kray should probably not take her advice on workout attire. Her mind was still locked into the 1980s for some fashion stuff.


His question on brute force versus shocking was, well, it gave her pause. She had to think on that. "For munides, a lot." She answers after a moment. "For us," the same considerations did not really apply. "About the only thing is the victim doesn't get fuzzy in the head from zap like they do with tap." Which was only valid during interrogation. You could wait for their brain to clear up after a fight if you needed to ask questions.

This was a difference of style really. Both were ready to rumble at any time, but Circe was a Larcenist. This did not lend itself to battle. Yet, Circe had solved this by means of prep time. Kray was an Ogre, having a fey aptitude for violence. That was the difference that the Circe hadn't noticed yet. Circe was willing to throw down at a moment's notice, but Kray was able to do so effectively without prep time.

Circe is starting to realized this. Or at least that Kray's fists do not need prep time.


"Ya know what? I'll concede that to ya Kray." Because she really had to. "Guess that idea has no charge. Can't really think of a practical way to improve yer punches." Impractial? Oh yes, the Internet was a fun place.


It was quite helpful of him. She drops the mag, opens the slide to remove the extra round, and checks to ensure that is is empty. Gun safety. Circe then screws on the suppressor. She is actually humming a happy tune. A cheerful happy tune, like from a kids show kind of happy. It is kind of creepy. She double checks that the bullets are blanks. Yes. She loads. She aims it well away from Kray and fires. It isn't a Hollywood sound effect, but it is less loud by a lot. Circe knew her craft.


She inhales the smell of gun smoke. A shuddering sigh leaves her. This, could be disturbing to see. "Oh, educational moment Kray. You now know what a silenced gunshot sounds like," she sends Kray an angelic smile.

[Kray]

He thinks, he nods. ''Yeah. Contender I like that.'' Sums up my station pretty well. ''Able to contend for the top spot with an outside chance of taking it.'' Hit the nail right on the head.

And then more words of wisdom. He concedes the point. ''Huh. Ain't that the truth.'' Neither of us would be what we are if we had sense between our ears. ''You got some sound thinking there.'' Eyes follow the can just to see, and when it doesn't stand track back to the summer sovereign. ''Or just that many muppets like you and me but they just got lucky enough it was only paint and not ...'' A keeper. He doesn't say it out loud. He doesn't look uncomfortable, but some lost don't like it.

A hefty shake of his head that sends dangling lichens of his hair swaying, a few small pieces dropping off to dust what's left of the wings. They probably don't do a shampoo for that now do they. ''No. She said Mary by name. Just I didn't know you were Mary till Winter rolled around.'' A little funny actually but I don't think we could have done it in the museum. ''Uh. Can she get pissed at someone?'' The Ogre was having a very hard time imagining the warm, radiant sovereign angry or vengeful. ''Even so she sure didn't patch up his bruises.'' Even when he asked.

''Oh. No I don't box.'' Catching on he wrong detail. ''I wouldn't call what I do ... professional in the same way.'' I might have made it my own but it started as instinct. ''Got a good amount of respect for those who take the time to learn properly, it's not easy.'' And as for her. ''I reckon you'd still be standing after one. It's if I get a grip you should be really worried.'' Don't hug cannibals. It's a good lesson. Tucking the fruit carefully back into a pocket. ''That's smart, also less odd to be carrying around.'' Good to know more then just me has themselves covered though. ''But fair enough no demonstration today.'' He does not seem put out, maybe even a little relieved.

The last of the wings disappear, and he take another beer to wash that lot down with. ''Yeah. It's some very good thinking actually. I hadn't thought of using a ranged option before. I'll take a drive around town see what I can rustle up, clubs to join stuff like that.'' Speaking muscle power was definitely more his speed and the Summer queen had found something that could make the ogre lethal at a notably larger distance.

He shrugs the talk of zapping and frying had not been things he understood in great depth. ''Ah. It's no matter. Sometimes using what you got is the best way. Often in fact that's often a good idea.'' It just happens what he had was a few hundred pounds, almost endless hunger and a bite pressure on par with some big cats. ''Just keep using them, keep getting better.'' When I have the time to dedicate to such a degree again of course.

Watching Circe work is off putting, would be to most not of the ashen court, but of all the emotions he is not so great with, controlling fear is the ideal he works with. Even with that in mind the almost mania of the sovereign is still enough to be ... unsettling, Especially when a gun shot goes off, muffled as it might be. He does not look away, but when that does happen Kray stiffens, winces almost yellow eyes locked on the sovereign yet for a moment not. If she is not to distracted to notice the beer he had been drinking is now mostly over his lap and the floor having been emptied as the can got reflexively crushed.

Untensing, allowing himself to be back in the moment, he to sighs but more from relief. We all got our problems don't we. But now she has a gun. ''Uh. You ... you look like you needed that.'' Not judging. But maybe trying to move past the moment.

[Circe]

"Yeesssss," she sighs as the gunsmoke is quite relaxing. Doesn't that say concerning things about how Circe works? On the positive side, calming effects during battle meant she was less likely to be berserk. She takes a second shot into nothing. Still blanks. Okay, she was feeling better. She stoops down, collects the spent brass, and then clicks on the safety. Mag out, slide back, check gun. Clear? Clear. Suppressor removed. "I'm gooood," she is vibing now. Oh, he spilt his drink? Guess he wasn't used to gunfire. How not used to? Good question.


"Ya want a paper towel? And Kray? If it makes ya feel better," she smiles to Kray, "My fellow criminals are actively keeping me from getting a proper machinegun." Because the offer of a AXF Chauchat was bullshit. "Subbies were fine though."


What were they talkng about before hand? Muppets?


"Muppet?" Circe wasn't sure if he heard that right. "Ha, felt for brains, oh ho ho ho!" Circe finds it amusing. "I like it, that's a great inslut Kray."


Circe pockets the brass and the remaining blank filled mag. Then reloads and holsters the gun, safely. Also, not leaving bullet casings in a kiddie park.


"Wrastling I think is the better term then. And neat," she goes back to the part about Seraphina, "I say we have her bribe us with food BEFORE we arm wrestle. Ya know, dinner for a show," she waves her arms wide. "And yes, probably she can get mad."


She smirks, "Oooh, not smart. Wisdom," she smirks and leans forward toward Kray, right hand up with her index finger up. "Learning from mistakes. Ya see, I have done this before. A few times. More fruit, less recovery time from bruising. Thus, more training time. And more pain. And possible brain damage. Brain damage."


She was in a better mood. She was making jokes about her taking blows to the head.


Circe straightens up, returning to the food. And grabs a orange can with a grey bar on one side. It has written on that side: PRODUCT PLACEMENT HERE. Circe raises an eyebrow. She leaves it on the table, grabbing a can labeled Boylan Birch Beer instead. She cracks it open and sips. Nostalgia.


And good, he was considering ranged options. "I think Sonja has throwing knives. Easier to hide, but less legal if that is a concern." Then laughs as she thinks of something else, "I mean, I could suggest shot gauntlets, but those are ridiculously illegal and no way coooould," she stops. Sips the birch beer. Eyes Kray up and down. Then shakes her head, "No, probably still impractical. 28 gauge would still be ungainly, I need to concedi il fottuto punto." Circe nods, "Right, right, yer fists are better than any mundy shit I could find or make with ease. Hedgespun if we ever fidn the parts."


Hedgespun. Not as powerful as a Token, but easier to make.

[Kray]

It's like me with food I think. A relief from what's inside maybe. If that was the case then it would be like a cool bandage over a festering wound, bringing relief when applied but soon in need of replacing. A metaphor that applied well to the ticking clock of his hunger and appetites. The gun clearly now is not just for putting parts on and off so when the second shot goes off there is a wince but less pronounced, he had been ready. ''Uh. Well glad to hear it.'' Still not entirely sure how this chain of events came to pass but the result seemed to be worthwhile.

Looking down. ''Oh. Dam it.'' The crushed can is released, cast onto the table as yes indeed he reaches for whatever napkins or paper towels are to hand. ''Bugger it.'' Now mopping himself down and then he will reach to get what's on the floor as well. It's only proper. ''Uh. Should you being less dangerous make me feel better or worse?'' Rather undecided on the matter himself. She keeps the freehold safe, the guns help her do that.

Its harder to see as he is leaned down but the way his mouth muscles twitch is familiar, its the one and only grin he has. ''Yeah. What else could be between our ears to end up as we did.'' It trails off ... either the excursion of reaching past the obesity of his gut while seated or maybe because there is a hint of longing somewhere in the statement.

He looks up. ''That. Now that is a good idea.'' A heavy bill to foot though. ''Sport is a type of art right, and people should get payed for that.'' Apparently he must be aware of the arm wrestling championships because it counts as a sport to this Ogre.

As Circe leans in it is hard to not notice she is very pretty, cuts quite the figure, to wonder if she tastes blu ... No! But for a moment it shows right through the look is instinctual but not carinal desire, for a moment she is a walking food source in his eyes and close as she is leaning in, those teeth with strands of flesh and splinters of bone caught between them are right there. Opening wider to ... close again. As he sits up and leans well back. ''AH. Sometimes a few bruises don't go a miss. Plenty to learn about how you got them.'' He seeming to searching the tables for something. Eyes definitely not on the sovereign for the moment.

''Hmpf. It isn't.'' Never been one for laws. Something food related he does not take the time to consider what gets selected and sacrificed to the terrible jaw. ''But I like the idea of the sports stuff, it'll feel weighty in my grip.'' Given his weapon of choice was sledgehammer maybe not surprising. ''And beside I got to consider the style points of setting world records while clouting someone with a discuss.'' Now turning to look at Circe once more, calmer more relaxed, eating again.

''So. Tell me about your first board. I don't have much to add I'm afraid but what do we need to be worrying about?'' Plenty said of what I and others can do but what's the good if we don't know here to use it or on what.

[Circe]

Circe is amused at the question. She wasn't a berserking gun maniac. She made do quite well without autofire, it was just better in some instances. "Eh," she shrugs, "Less chance of the feds coming after us, buuut more bullets be need to drop things. Also," she smiles as she was going to give the joke she'd found online. It was too good to pass up, "Quieter. The machinegun's dakka dakka noise is much louder than the SUB-machinegun's odd whispers of pull my trigger mommy or calling itself a dirty little gun," the shit eating grin should make it clear this was a joke. Should.


Circe nods as Kray agrees with her about dinner for a show. "If your good at something," she does a passable Heath Ledger impression, "Get paid for it."


That was good news. She'd move on from pushing mortal made tools to enhance melee. Dragon knuckles or hydraulic fists wouldn't really compare to what Kray could do if he grabbed someone and bit down. Yet, it was good news that he didn't care about law abiding stuff. "Sweet, glad ya won't rat on me to the feds," she laughs on the serious topic.


This also meant that Circe could easily give him a sporting goods store gift card when a present was called for. If he was throwing sports stuff in the Hedge, he'd not always get it back. Or maybe a gift card to an all you can eat buffet. She was sure he'd get banned really fast with how much he ate. Gristlegrind? Probably. How big could he open that mouth? Circe was a Summer and armed. She wasn't fearful, though curious if he could do something.


"Question? Think if we stacked a slice of each type of pizza, you could take a bite out of each in the result?" That was five slices. She was genuinely curious. She'd seen a snake Beast able to do something like that. Probably a snake Beast.


Stuff the Groundskeeper Should Know white board. The intent of that have been for Freeholders to make sure she knew of threats that she hadn't been told about yet. Not the other way around. But, might as well. "Right," she first goes to get a drink. Then over to the pizzas. She grabs a veggie and a meat lovers, the latter flipped on top of the former. She heads to the white board, munching.


Swallow, pop the can's top. Drink.


"Ironside and Thornside." She puts down the cola, grabs the marker and write: Hoodie and Other-others. "Ironside. There are some mortals that hunt monsters. They like hoodies. They think we run Funderland to protect kids," she smirks at him, "Kinda true. Also, we're bribing them with armored hoodies. They don't hunt us, so kinda waiting from them to get eaten." That was her view at any rate. "Also! There are others things bumping in the night that aren't fey. Seen at least one and heard some stories about ghosts."


The frankenstein monster. Others had told her of ghosts. Yes, there was more in Heaven and Earth, yadda yadda. "No conflicts with us from the not fey things. I think we are too good at going unseen. But something to keep in mind."


Then she writes other words. Usual. Ambrosial Delite. Rust. River. Remnant. She pauses to munch, giving Kray time ask or mention about the mortal side problems.

[Kray]

Oh so that's her damage she hears guns talk. What lost wasn't mad in some way. As long as they don't tell her to shoot me. ''Uh. Don't you like the more bullets option?'' The Ogre curious what won out, efficiency or love of shooting. ''Um. Do the guns tell you anything else Circe?'' Might be good to know. What should have obviously been a joke clearly missed the part of the Ogres brain that processed such.

He pulls a shard of chicken bone snagged from between his teeth and uses it as impromptu pick to start loosening other caught and helpless morsels. ''Hm. She uh, she got any specialities we should put on the demands list?'' If your demanding payment why not aim for the moon.

He snorts, the bone pick chips as the movement causes it to catch in a tricky space, what's left gets discarded to a table. ''Ah. Governments are the biggest crooks going. Why should they get to make it big with crime and it be wrong for everyone else?'' And criminals are usually better organised.

He looks to the pizza. ''Hm. Which end do you want me to bite from. Crust or centre?'' He seems unphased by the prospect, the teeth always on display distract from the fact the gift of the Grsitlegrinder comes in two parts. The terrible teeth sit in a terrible jaw designed to make full use of them.

As the conversation moves to threats he focuses up. This was serious talk.

A snarl. ''If they hunt monsters chances are I'll run a foul of them.'' Its all well and good not hunting a fairest or a wizened they don't look all that dangerous usually. ''Given I'm the walking definition of a monster and all.'' But armoured hoodies wouldn't save a mortal if that mortal started something with him. Have to make sure Anatole knows this, might affect a few things.

Bulbous yellow eyes go wide with ...wonder. ''Huh. I've the stories and all, never met anything else myself. But well If we exist why not everything else right.'' I'd sure like to meet something from outside our experiences, what they can do.

As she writes he says. ''Slavers. Anatole said.'' Back under the bridge. ''Dodgy hedge fruit, might be foul play. You and Sarah told me.'' After the rail carts. ''The river? As in the Sacramento? What's up with that?'' No ideas on that one. ''Uh no sorry no idea?'' Remnant as in leftover?

[Circe]

Circe's smirk, fades into a different expression at Kray's response to the pun. And then her ears droop down in disappointment. She'd have to explain the joke. That is the worst kind of failure. She sighs, "A submachinegun is a smaller machinegun. In BDSM, a sub is the perv that likes pain. Aaaand I saw a joke about that online. I was trying to make a pun. But if hafta expalin it, then it was a failure, sorry."


That was a downer turn. Circe was pretty disappointed.


As for what Seraphina should offer, "According to her? Coffee or wallet. She claims she isn't a good cook, despite owning a cafe," well she liked the coffee at any rate. Circe was still a little confused by the claims Sera had made to her. But oh well.


"Hmm," she considers more of what is said. Munches on her own slices, finishing it. Just crust now. "Tip," she suggests, "Not stuffed crust, so no point to start from the back. Or wait. Science!" She goes to the pizza's and starts stacking them.

2 successes

Date	Action	Roll	Result
2024-04-13 22:59:43	Circe rolls 8 to Int + crafts + sticky pizza (10 Again)	1, 9, 4, 5, 8, 1, 3, 7	2 successes

She will hand it to him once she is done. But frist is the hunters and monsters. "Eh, I think only one of 'em is left that could pierce the Mask," as most adult mortals tend to look the other way if that is your target. "And technically," she pokes her own cheek, "I am a modern fantasy stereotype of supreme evil sadist dominatrixes. Call them out on profiling."


As for monster monsters, "It was some Frankenstein's monster stich job. Not fey, but not immune to mundy weapons, so there is that." She finishes stacking the pizzas properly, balanced perfectly, and brings it to Kray. She puts it on the table before him. "If ya don't think you can take something, two advice to give. If it is not corporeal, retreat with what element it uses in mind. Get distance then think. If it is corporeal," Circe smirks, "Kneecaps or otherwise slow its legs. Easier to outrun a limping foe than a sprinting one."


She nods when he mentions Anatole's warning. That was good. "They divide meat and flesh markets by the latter being flesh that can talk AND is alive," the clears it up a little. He knew about the Rust. The other two though, he did not.


"The River," she goes and gets another drink. "Is Thornside version of the Sacremanto. There are giant. Enemy. Crabs. Edible!" She cracks open a root beer? Okay. She drinks. "Giant enemy crabs. Hard shells, maybe protective to fists, but not to gunfire. Various sizes, though I found the more colorful to be the more dangerous. Plus the blood smelled FOUL."


She sticks her tongue out at the memory. Then looks Kray up and down. "Wheelbarrows for fishing trip? Dynamite fishing no less, oh ho ho ho! If I can organize it, ya'd be interested? Put the intact pieces in a big drum, boil, and need a loooot of butter."


As for the Remnant, that was easier. "Ann the Fetchmaker," that Mantle that scared him earlier? It was back. "Slimebag, scuzzball whore was an enemy of the Freehold and all mortals. I killed her ass," she smiles proudly and the Mantle dies down, "But her forces were slaves, mercenaries, and broken loyal loonies. The first will have hunted the last for revenge. We may or may not need to worry about the last, we don't know. Hafta investigate their old groove at some point. Patrol is in the works."