You Know Whos and You Know Whats

[Francis Church]

Aside from here

"Oh right because of the whole- wait why?" Francis realized that Sebastian had used her last name in their initial meeting and had informed Francis that he was going to do so as a means of getting her under his thumb, but now how he had gotten it or why it would work. It was in that moment that Francis saw some cracks in Sebastian's facade, and his position within that organization.

Francis thought about it and realized it didn't hurt to comply with her request. She could tell him or not, it didn't make any difference. Was this empathy? "I mean, sure. Of course. I can do that." Properly alone now, he felt like he could discuss the issues at hand without worrying any of the crew and without angering Sebastian or his new number two. Even though he was just thinking it to himself, Francis made sure to emphasize calling Jairoger a number two.

Like a poop.

"Listen, this is your ship. Your show. Your... rodeo. But I think guns is like a bad idea, man. Drugs are way, way better. Much safer."

[Charity]

"Oh right because of the whole- wait why?" Francis asked. An immaculately manicured brow shot up, her chin tilting to the right slightly like a bird trying to get a better look at something confusing. He didn't know why? The brow lowered to furrow with the other, her glimmering hands slipping into the pockets hidden in the side seams of her full skirts. 

"I mean, sure. Of course. I can do that," the man amended. Her jaw unclenched, her shoulders relaxed, and the Captain let out a slow breath that carried some of her tension with it. He didn't know why. But he was going to stop, and that was what mattered. She didn't know him or trust him, not yet, so telling him why was completely off the table. She wagered King would agree. Charity tried to come up with a way to breeze past the conversation, but Francis got to it first.

"Listen, this is your ship. Your show. Your... rodeo. But I think guns is like a bad idea, man. Drugs are way, way better. Much safer."

Charity, in a learned gesture from a life she'd left what seemed like centered ago, lifted her hand both subtly and curtly to stop any further attempts to speak.

"Francis, we will simply not be assisting in the distribution of drugs," she told him, her smile diplomatic, but stern. "I am afraid I have to be quite firm on the matter," she told him, her brows raised again. "But, I think you're right about our current choice of contraband being more dangerous," she admitted, gesturing toward one of the plush chairs as she took a seat in the one opposite it.

"As you are far more experienced with this sort of thing, I'd love it if you would let me in on what is awaiting us at the pick up? And what we can expect going forward. Your knowledge of this world is invaluable to us, Francis," she added, her hands folding neatly on her lap.

[Francis Church]

Francis seemed disappointed but not surprised in Charity's answer. There was an angle to it he wasn't seeing and they'd have to roll with that. "So this guy Sebastian has us going after. He's an Ex-Browncoat turned, well, he's like a go-between. He sells guns for goods, usually to other Browncoats who think the war isn't over. He owes Sebastian and Sebastian uses his contacts. Nice guy, I met him... once. He's not the one we should be scared of."

He paused for dramatic effect. "Now usually we only deal with his lieutenants, but sometimes, especially if there's new blood in the water, he likes to make an appearance. Strut his stuff. He's a total psycho who thinks he's like a big important general or something but he's really just the guy who forced himself into the top. I heard he stabbed a guy in the eye with a fork. So whatever we do, we have to avoid Major Mitch." He let that name hang in the air for a moment, to see if it got a response.

"Anyways, the good is where we come in. We'll be picking those up, and they can be anything, really. Food, real food, stereo equipment, this one time it was like these dogs with little clocks in their belly." Francis laughed at the memory of their cuteness. "That's the other thing. All of this stuff is either stolen or, well, it's all stolen. So we have to avoid the Alliance, too. Especially since we got them from the Dust Devils... er... Browncoats. Rebels?" An involuntary shudder, remembering what had happened to that shipment of dog clocks.

[Charity]

"Nice guy, I met him... once. He's not the one we should be scared of."

Her brows rose once more in question. A small part of her hoped they'd be working primarily with the aforementioned 'nice guy,' but she knew that that wasn't likely to be the case. Not if their last job was any indication. She was still new to this world, but at least she was learning.

"I heard he stabbed a guy in the eye with a fork. So whatever we do, we have to avoid Major Mitch."

Charity grimaced and sighed softly to herself, but other than that, the blank look in her eyes and lack of expression made it clear that she had not heard of him before now. She'd need to check in with King to see if he'd heard anything about a Major Mitch. The Captain set an elbow on the arm of the chair and idly coiled a dark curl around her bejewled index finger. Her free hand reached into her pocket and pulled out an embroidered red fan, which she snapped open with a flick of her wrist, the metal thread glimmering in the low light.

"So we have to avoid the Alliance, too. Especially since we got them from the Dust Devils... er... Browncoats. Rebels?"

The Captain frowned, cherry lips pulling downward in concern. "Dust Devils?" she repeated, crossing her feet at the ankles beneath her skirts and fanning herself, the edge of the fan obscuring the lower portions of her face. She'd come across them before, if the news had been accurate. "They set off an explosive in the markets on Newhall, did they not?" she asked. It was mostly a rhetorical question. She knew they had. She'd been there. And this did not bode well for the potential smoothness of their upcoming mission. In her mind, the group was reactive and violent, and didn't seem to have qualms about hurting the innocent to get their point across. Again, she sighed, this one heavier than the last, her boddice almost creaking with the effort to contain her torso as her lungs expanded.

Setting the fan down on her lap, Charity finally pulled out her cortex unit from a small pocket on the front of her boddice. It was custom made and on the outside, looked like nothing more than a lavish pocket watch. She opened the front and opened the message from Mister Sebastian's new Number Two, now that she had a moment.

"Tyson Hazard," she muttered, reading aloud. "If you'd be so kind, please send him a wave letting him know we're on our way. I'm sure Mister Sebastian reached out to him already, but I'd like the message to come from one of us," Charity requested, shutting the cortex unit and tucking it back into her pocket. "Is there anything else I should know?"