The Gunrunner (See ooc planning thread)

[Pi dArtois]

Mael Pi0415.JPG

Gun sold in this RP:

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
‹Luc LeBlanc› Pushing open the door to the Training Room, a thiry something year old Caucasian male steps in. Blue eyes take in the surroundings briefly before he leans forward slightly and calls out in a slightly accented voice. "Hello?" He moves in a couple steps forward and walks hesitantly through the door on the right. "Anyone here? I have a meeting?"

‹Pi dArtois› “Ello” Pi called, her voice accented with her Parisian origins. It carried beyond the single connecting door into the gymnasium beyond. “I’m back here.” She wore casual clothing, more suited to her surroundings. Long loose yoga pants with a low hip hugging waist. The long white tank top hugged her curves, leaving her arms bare. Her hair swung around her ears, framing her small face. She didn’t look like any gun runner you saw in the movies. To look at her, she looked a bit like a soccer Mum, okay, maybe not that mumsy, but close. Outward appearances could be very deceiving. Bet she didn’t look much like any vampires from movies either.

‹Luc LeBlanc› Stepping forward and glancing around to assure they were alone, Luc clears his throat before speaking. "I met with Michael and he gave me your email?" The question posed one of caution. Assurance that he's in the right place because though the address is right, this diminutive woman is not exactly what he was expecting... more like Mother Russia from Kick *** 2 maybe. He adjusts his tie, loosening it slightly. and puts both hands into his suit pocket.. He looks like a lawyer, maybe a financial guru from Wall Street. Grey suit, blood red tie and no visible markings just like any number of nondescript drones blending into the corporate world.

‹Pi dArtois› “Oui, he told me about you.” She replied, lifting her hand to beckon him into the room. “Sorry for the mess in the foyer, we are doing a bit of renovating.” Her smile was fleeting, a passage of expression across pink lips. Her stance was loose, feet shoulder width apart, comfortable. She gave his clothing a cursory glance, noting the suit, the tie and the adjustment that could be attributed to nerves. Not a lot of people went of their way to buy off market weapons, and rarely were they intended to be used for strictly legal purposes. Pi had long ago stopped trying to fit people into little predesigned boxes based on their exterior projection. “What Michael didn’t say… was what exactly he told you about me.”

‹Luc LeBlanc› A slight shrug of the shoulders. His expression is ice cold. A small smile breaks the icy exterior for just a moment at least to the untrained eye. It doesn't amount to anything more than a twitch of the lips really. The coldness in his gaze doesn't change a bit. "He said that you were a woman who knew how to get things. He never said how attractive you were though. Pleasant surprise." His hands remain in his pockets, his feet planted in a similar position as hers, he faces her head-on, shoulders squared toward her. "He also promised you wouldn't suck me dry, that you were fair"

‹Pi dArtois› Pi’s smile spread slowly, then widened into something that was definitely a grin. Oh Michael[/] she thought Ever the funny guy. And he was, hilarious, it’s why she kept him around (other than the convenience of having a PhD on tap). These gems of his were priceless. “No, I promise, no sucking.” She replied, the grin not slipping a bit as she threw back her on rejoinder. She didn’t hear the compliment, or did, but ignored it; but the humour she enjoyed, even if the poor man in front of her had no idea what it was about his last statement (and not compliment) that had amused her so much. Relaxing a little she let him approach and stop before speaking. “I do have access to useful …. Things. Now, what …. Thing can I get you?”

‹Luc LeBlanc› "I have a problem. I need to make that problem go away. A slight misunderstanding in the U.S. led to an issue for me while purchasing, shall we say, home protection." He doesn't smile this time. Almost as though he was going by rote on what to say, like he has to remind himself to show emotion. In fact it takes him a moment to react on her movement and then he shifts his feet slightly as if in response to it. "I'd prefer a permanent solution to my problem." He doesn't seem either at ease or ill at ease, just as though he is going through the motions of something that needs to be done.

‹Pi dArtois› It was intriguing, how much detail he gave to be interesting, but not enough to be charged with anything other than talking with obvious obscurity and there was no crime in that. No crime at all. Not that Pi either cared either way, she’d been pretty sad these past few years. “Okay. I think I can help you with a solution.” She offered, a little curious about what exactly Michael had told this man she could do. It certainly sounded like he was looking for something a bit more indepth than a gun.

‹Luc LeBlanc› A single nod, again, no smile, and a small sigh of what could be construed as relief issued from slightly parted lips. "First off, may I see your selection?" He's definitely a man on a mission. His eyes don't move from hers though he does remove his hands from his pockets, clasping them in back instead. "Michael never discussed a price with me. He said you don't always work in cash but I'm not sure what I have that we could barter for."

[Luc LeBlanc (DELETED 6464)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--
‹Pi dArtois› Pi shrugged and answered him as she reached to pick up the gun case behind her. Balancing it on the wall between the pool and the rest of the gym she flips it open to reveal three guns, each custom made. “Money is easiest. Cash only.” Letting the case fall open she reached inside, checks the magazine is empty and balances the weapon on her small palm. The thing is too big for her, the barrel reaching far beyond the span of her hand. It wouldn’t be a weapon she would make for herself, not with her grip, but it was solid, long barrelled and a bit like the beast Dirty Harry used to carry. “Or, if alternate payment forms are preferred. There are always favours.” She finishes with a smile, offering the gun for him to inspect. “This is Maël.”

‹Luc LeBlanc› He inspects the weapon allowing it to remain in her hand, his own remaining behind his back. That's the one. he thinks to himself. "As it ends up, my issue has left me with an abundance of free time. What kind of favors? That one will be fine. I like the name ."

‹Pi dArtois› “Whatever I want, whenever I want.” Pi answered. “It will probably be illegal, and you probably won’t like it very much. And if I ask you to do something that exposes you to liability, you’ll just have to make sure you don’t get caught.” She finished, finally taking the gun as it was meant, twisting it over so he could see the other side. “You’ll need to purchase ammo, .308’s for it. You’ll have a case if you’d like one, to carry it out of here with.” Putting the gun into its single case she leaves it where he could pick it up if he wants. Then she smiles. “Or, you can pay me the 15,000 and we never have to see one another again. Your choice.”

‹Luc LeBlanc› Looking at the gun and weighing his options for a moment he nods. "Then I owe you." Obviously the thought of the potential illegality of his actions doesn't bother him. "A gun and a job all in one day. How fortunate." It's obviously meant as sarcasm but the tone in which he states it is drier than desert air. His eyes still haven't left hers though he does raise his left hand up to his chin and rubs the corner of his mouth. Maybe he's just scratching. Dropping the hand he offers the right for a handshake. "Deal?"

‹Pi dArtois› “It’s three favours… not one.” She says, taking his hand and leaning forward to whisper. “Free, really isn’t free at all you know. And Deal.”

‹Luc LeBlanc› Now the lips curl up in a smile. "Ma'am, there are certain things that certain types of people end up having to do. It's handy to have certain people that don't mind doing them for her. You call it a favor, there's a good chance I will call it entertainment."

‹Pi dArtois› “Good thing we are a certain type of people then isn’t it?” She replied. Disentangling her hand from his the smile drops from her face, her eyes emptying of expression or hint of warmth. It didn't matter that he was a good foot taller than she was. She was used to using her size to advantage, or in this case, assumed disadvantage. "Leave me your number. I'll call you. Sooner or later." Sometimes you made deals with the devil. Pi was okay with that because sometimes the devil came in handy.

‹Luc LeBlanc› Into his jacket inner pocket goes the hand and with no flourish, just a marked economy of motion out it comes with a card. L. an American number, West Virginia area code despite no trace of the hills in his accent. One would guess rightly the phone attached to it a has pre-loaded minutes and likely in a different name. He notes the change in demeanor and nods. "There you are. Nice to meet you ma'am."


‹Pi dArtois› Pi took the card, turning it over and over. She didn't read the number. She wouldn't, not right now. That would happen later when she input his details into the beginnings of a database she was keeping. She slipped it into the pocket of her yoga pants. Favours or money, sometimes a girl had to find ways to diversify her market. Sorta like the new apartment building she was about to construct and the rather unique basement that would be attached to it. “Yes…” She replied. “The pleasure was mine.” The words were stated, without inflection, direct gaze meeting the same directed at her from the man who had (not minutes ago) been a stranger. “I’d walk you out but… you know the way.”

‹Luc LeBlanc› Unperturbed at the dismissal he reaches down, still watching her eyes carefully and picks up the case. A singular nods and he backs away to the door and nods to her, a sudden grin cracking, it's warm and genuine looking, still, the eyes are not. "Yes ma'am I believe I can find my way out and look forward to your call."

‹Pi dArtois› Pi’s smile mimicked his, a glowing warmth reflected in the lifting of her lips, the tantalising flash of teeth. A tiny dimple appeared on her left cheek. Her eyes however, just like his, remained expressionless. Until she shifted those too to reflect the smile. “See you around.”

‹Luc LeBlanc› His head tilts slightly to the side, much like a wolf trying to process something it's seen. Something unexpected. Without another word he steps out of the room entirely and then turns, making his way out to the streets. Interesting... he thinks to himself. I think she might be more dangerous than I am. Then he is gone, blending in with all the other people on the streets, nice and anonymous.

[Xian]

The night was young, and the wind still carried a little of the bite of winter, but this didn't bother the young man walking down the street. He had grown up in warmer weather, but he only barely remembered those days now, and his body no longer needed the warmth. He could still feel the cold with each step he took, but he took little notice of it, other than to subconsciously register the fact.

His name was Xian, and a few months ago, he lost his life and rose again as a vampire.

Cold as it was, the black trench coat he wore served more as camouflage rather than protection from the wind and cold. Many of the city's residents wore something similar, or even heavier, in an effort to fend off the cold, and wearing less would attract a little attention. Especially as, beneath the trench coat, he had concealed a holster to the small of his back. It held an automatic pistol, one of two that he held some affection for, though that wasn't information that he ever volunteered readily to anyone.

Aside from the hidden holster and the handgun, his clothes were otherwise normal, and even simple: plain grey cotton shirt, faded black denim pants, and blackened combat boots. He did choose to wear simple leather gloves tonight, again more to fit in than anything else. For the most part, this was his normal attire, and he figured he had several sets on the same theme.

Despite his efforts though, he did catch the eye of the odd pedestrian; his features were definitely Asian, his skin pale, his hair shoulder length and dark, with a bare hint of red at the tips; all put together, enough to mark him as different. He also wasn't unpleasant to look at, though he personally considered himself to look more boyish than actually attractive. At times, he even thought he looked slightly androgynous; it didn't help that he wasn't really tall at five feet and eight inches. At least once, he'd been mistaken for a tall girl. At least the old man had apologized profusely.

Advantage and disadvantage, he'd thought to himself about his appearance once. He'd used it to his advantage before, though sometimes it caused him to not be taken seriously. His other self, the side of him that felt more closely mortal had many thoughts on the matter. But tonight, except to make sure he didn't stand out too much, his mind was on other things.

He absently thought about the handgun near the base of his spine. When she was new, just a month back, she felt strange and unnatural there. But now, she felt familiar and comforting, and he rarely left to wander the streets without her, or his other handgun. She was one of a pair he owned, purchased from someone he believed was one of the finest weaponsmiths in the city, and one of the reasons he was out and walking this night.

He called the handgun he carried tonight Ivy, and her sister-pistol, left behind in his simple rented apartment, he had named Aqi. Once, when Xian was mortal, he had imagining holding two Berettas at once, one in each hand, like he'd seen in the movies and countless games. But he'd long since realized that doing so wasn't practical for many reasons, one of which was that his slim build wouldn't allow him to conceal them both at the same time, at least not easily. So he would alternate between the two, trying his best not to show favor to one or the other.

He hadn't owned them long, but they had both served him well. As much as being a vampire on its own made him faster and stronger than mortals, here in this city, there were more than just mortals that threatened him and his kind. They had both seen use, though admittedly he'd fired more rounds at a firing range than at actual targets.

He remembered the night he'd first bought Ivy. He was a different person then, all nerves and fidgety. The corner of his lips turned up slightly in recollection. He'd bumped into someone at the entrance, apologized profusely, and almost fell over his own feet. He shook his head. That was someone else, after all. Him, but not him.

The gunsmith he had purchased Ivy from had probably not noticed it at the time, but it was the other Xian, the passive one, that had truly been there. The Other Xian, the one that stalked the city tonight, he was the one who chose Aqi, the one who had named both, the one who really knew how to use both anyway. By now, however, at their third meeting, he figured that the lady gunsmith would likely have her suspicions, though Xian's Other didn't mind that one bit. It was a secret that wasn't a secret, after all.

"Ah," he said to himself absently. "Tonight is a good night." Words he used to banish the memory he was just a little bit ashamed of. He sometimes spoke to himself like this when he was alone, with nobody to hear him but himself. Not even his other self could hear him, not really. That part of him was still in hiding, tormented by some new knowledge that this version of him, this Other Xian, didn't bother to learn.

Distracted by the memory and his shame of it, he almost didn't realize how close he was to his destination. Brought to sudden awareness by the rumbling of a passing car, his feet stopped. He tilted his head as he looked up towards the venue for tonight's meeting. He had never been there, not really, though he had passed this way many times before.

Lancaster's.

[Pi dArtois]

Pi didn’t make many guns. She was picky. She was picky about the parts she used, picky about what they looked like when they were done and picked about nearly everything to do with making a weapon and putting it out there for sale.

She even named them all. She named them and put her mark on it (because that’s what all craftsmen did) and only then was she satisfied that they could be sold. There had to be something she could do to while away the time as a vampire. Unlike life as a human, filled with endless commitments that stole time and squandered minutes and hours on things that were irrelevant, she now found herself with too much it. There was a glut of endless seconds stretching out in front of her. As if all those years of wasteful were suddenly compiled into a mountain called eternity and inside that eternity she had to find meaningful purpose.

Apparently, the definition of meaningful purpose right now was creating weapons, of minimal or mass destruction, whichever took her fancy.

It probably said something about her that she was good at it. Making weapons. Really good. Her earlier attempts were not as great, and there were a few guns floating about that she hadn’t marked, like the two she had made the man who was meeting her tonight.

They say repeat customers were a mark of an excellent craftsman. If that were true then Xian would be her very first repeat customer (family didn’t count because they got theirs for free).

She had to admit she was rather looking forward to meeting the man. He hadn’t exactly been social on any of the other times she’d met him, but to be fair to him, neither had she. He’d been a guinea pig, one of the first people he’d ever sold a gun to, and certainly the first person outside of the family who knew she sold guns at all. The others she’d sold on the internet, and hadn’t needed to ‘meet’. But Xian, he’d been her first. The first whose gun names she remembered (and probably always would because she wrote them all down).

It was a slow night, which helped and why she chose it to meet Xian again. She didn’t really think she’d have a problem with doing this here on a busy night (lots of people were sometimes cover too) but it felt better knowing she wouldn’t have to wade through a throng to do what she wanted.

She smiled when he entered the bar, just a small greeting, an acknowledgement that she’d seen him and with a nod of her head she whispered softly to the other bartender, and excused herself. Walking over to the door of her office and waiting for him.

“Bonjour Xian.” She greeted quietly.

[Xian]

It had been a long walk to Lancaster's from his rented apartment, but the young vampire didn't mind. His body didn't tire in the same way a mortal's would, for one, and for another, he enjoyed walking through the city. That was something the Other and Xian shared, one of the few things they had in common.

As he stepped towards the entrance, he wondered for the Nth time why the gunsmith had asked to meet here tonight. Not that he was too worried about it; where Xian himself would have worried himself comatose as to why there was a change in routine, his Other took it in stride. He was wary, but that was normal for him, and he was confident that he could handle himself.

For some reason he didn't bother to think about, he found that he trusted the gunsmith. Had he spent even some time in contemplation, something he was generally loathe to do, the most he would have been able to admit was that it had something to do with their previous transactions. That he liked her work, Ivy and Aqi, the two handguns he had purchased from her, and that it somehow translated.

Not that he trusted her completely. There were very few individuals that he trusted in that way, that was just the way he was. But he trusted her enough, and for tonight, that was sufficient to get him to Lancaster's in a generally calm frame of mind.

Their previous meetings had been in a much smaller, less accessible and also less busy bar on almost the opposite side of town. It was the kind of place frequented by the wrong kind of people at all the right times, and perfect for the kind of business they had in mind. A place where nobody cared to ask questions about where they were doing, as long as they didn't bother to ask what anyone else was doing either.

He had arrived slightly late, and the gunsmith had already been waiting a few minutes. That was Xian's fault, he remembered. Xian had almost turned back at the last minute, worried and paranoid that it was a bad idea to meet someone, anyone, in this part of town. Not that he was a coward, his Other conceded, but he did prefer to have everything under control.

The first thing that Xian's Other thought about the gunsmith was how striking she was, even in just simple jeans and a tank. The Other appreciated beauty in its many forms, especially those that were both beautiful and dangerous. Even just at his first glance, he was convinced that she was most definitely both.

Xian, however, stumbled into someone practically just as he entered the door. His Other tensed, prepared to take over, but the large man just waved it off with a burp, while Xian apologized profusely. It was a while before Xian even realized who he was going to meet up with, sitting as she was in a corner.

Aloof, cold, wary. The gunsmith was all those things, though she was also quite businesslike, Xian decided. He considered her attire, her desire to complete the transaction quickly, and also looked over Ivy carefully. He did his best to get everything done quickly, which is what he thought she wanted, and also benefitted him in that he could leave as soon as it was done.

His Other, however, fell in love at first sight - with the handgun so expertly made that she seemed to sing to him even as she lay there. To Xian, this was a tool, to his Other, she would be an extension of himself. Ivy. Her name suited her, though he would never explain why.

Wrapped up in his memory of his first meeting with the gunsmith, Xian almost forgot that Lancasters would have some security at the door. He barely had time to befuddle the attendant checking him so that he would overlook Ivy in her back holster. He almost regretted having to do it, as he knew this place had some significance to the gunsmith, but there was no way he would enter without her. He would apologize later if he needed to.

As before, he spotted her almost immediately, and responded to her slight smile with one of his own. She whispered something to the bartender, and walked off; he knew that she expected him to follow. Without a second thought, he walked through the crowd, bothering as few as possible, still doing his best not to attract unwanted attention. He saw her stop at the door of what seemed to be the office of Lancaster's, where she waited.

It took less than a dozen steps before he reached her, and heard her quiet greeting.

The Other nodded with a grin, and offered a greeting of his own. "Good eve, Madam d'Artois," he said. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

[Pi dArtois]

It was her space. Okay, it was probably more Elliot’s but it was also hers.

It had taken her a while to get used to the noise and the people and the clamouring for attention that happened when she walked into the place. Regulars thought you should remember their names, their drinks and their kids and what school they went to. And to be fair, she was slowing assimilating the information and using it to foster relationships with those same regulars until each who came in stopped to chat when she was on the bar. Lots of people stopped. Lots of people chatted and she no longer froze up like a deer slamming to a stop in the middle of the road seconds before it was about the be mowed down by a truck with roll bars.

And it was why she chose it, because it was comfortable and safe. Safe enough to connect two portals to, safe enough for the third floor to house some items her and Elliot might need and safe enough she was comfortable inviting her first (only) repeat customer to meet her.

The first gun she’d sold him was named Ivy. None of her earlier guns were especially powerful. She’d played a bit with the different types of barrel’s, and the caliber of the weapon with an extended length. It was still a good weapon, well balanced, with a sight at the end, automatic, slim grip with one hell of a power kick when fired. She remembered the gun better than she’d remembered him that night. The quiet man had seemed nervous, maybe more nervous than she’d been, except hers had been based in paranoia. He fidgeted, is all Pi could really remember of that night, his hands, clenching and unclenching, a funny thing to remember that, but still, she remembered his hands and his gun and little else.

The second gun she’d made him was Aqi, a beautiful little lady. The gun was subtle where Ivy was boisterous, smaller, daintier but innocuous in its strength and power. Where Ivy was a Dirty Harry piece of bad, Aqi was small, unassuming but lethal. A bit like herself really. She remembered more of the second meeting. She might have even managed a smile. She might also have been proudly praising of the weapon he was about to take off her hands describing it in terms that seemed like she was talking about a favourite pet or friend, rather than a gun.

And in that meeting she noted more about him too. Because it was repeat business and with a little familiarity comes curiosity, awareness and observations. Except this time he didn’t appear so… paranoid, he was smoother, less rough around the edges, as if someone had shaved away the nervous hand clenching and replaced it with an urbane coolness.

She’d chalked it up to the same reason she wasn’t as… aloof. This, was easier a second time. It wasn’t trust but it was.. familiar.

Its’ why she’d invited him to Lancaster’s the third time, because now it felt okay to invite him closer to her world, to let him walk through the doors of the bar she owned.

“Oui.” Pi replied, opening the door behind her with the hand she’d rested on the handle. “Come on into my office.” She offered, walking through and letting him take the initiative to close the door behind him.

It wasn’t really her office and Elliot’s messy cluttered the desk and the office chairs (bar one that the staff used to sit on). Not bothering to sit she went straight to the desk and flipped the lid open on the gun case that sat there, turning to smile as she did.

“I think you will like Kith… he’ll be a nice addition to Ivy and Aqi don't you think?”

[Xian]

The young vampire accepted the gunsmith's invitation and followed her into the private office. His eyes took in the room quickly, memorizing as much of it as he could in a few eyeblinks. As was his habit, he then weighed himself against anything within that could be a potential threat, while he took the few steps it needed to step inside. Healthy paranoia, he called it; nothing at all like the level of paranoia Xian himself displayed in regards to just about anything. A survivor's instinct.

By the time his eyes rested again on the petite frame of the gunsmith, he had decided that there was only one thing here that would be a credible threat to him: The gunsmith herself.

Not that he believed she meant him any harm, else he would have never agreed to come at all. If anything, it was a sentiment of his respect for her. Despite her size, he felt he could sense in her the same elemental power that had struck almost absolute fear in him when he had first met his grandsire, Keara Aithne. The same level of power that could turn him into a mere stain on the floor of this office.

There was a sense of restraint behind the power, he thought, the same as with Keara, perhaps a similar restraint found in all other civilized vampires. With Keara, he identified it as a sense of family, that he had nothing to fear because of the blood tie. With the gunsmith, it was something else, something that he didn't think was worth considering. Perhaps, he ventured to himself, Xian would think about it deeper.

For now it was enough that he was in no danger.

The Other allowed himself to relax slightly. He was thankful that Xian had been preoccupied with his own suffering these past few weeks, which had allowed him greater freedom. He didn't trust Xian to make deals such as this, and believed that Xian would likely do something to cause offense. No, Xian was free to dig as deep into their shared psyche as he cared to.

Even more so than their second meeting, Pi d'Artois seemed much more relaxed this night, but then so was he. Perhaps her familiarity with him, their relationship as gunsmith and client, and the relative safety of Lancaster's all helped to calm her. Perhaps that first time there had been some weight, some other reason that caused her to be rushed and tense, something that was no longer one of her concerns.

He brushed those thoughts aside, however, as his eyes returned to the gun case he had noticed among the clutter on the desk. He watched as Pi flipped the lid, to show him the weapon that lay inside.

She had named the handgun Kith, and just as with Ivy and Aqi, the Other agreed that the name suited the weapon. For a moment, he questioned her use of the masculine: "he'll be," she had said. English convention preferred the use of the feminine for inanimate objects, though his acceptance of Ivy and Aqi as both being "she" or "her" was more than just convention. The names suited them, and he accepted that they were female in nature if not in being.

He looked at the pistol in the gun case, and he nodded. Yes, Kith was indeed a "he," and one that would definitely cause him trouble in the future. But at the same time, the same sense of danger hinted at a promise of loyal service, and of a desire to be held, and used.

He took a while to admire Kith's lines and shape, the terrible beauty and threat it possessed in its small frame. He could almost hear it calling to him, whispering, demanding to be picked up. He smiled, and allowed himself a brief fantasy of how this weapon would get him into trouble, and just as easily get him out of it.

Yes, Xian's Other decided, this would be another good match.

"He is as beautiful as his sisters," the Other whispered. In his mind, he prepared the transfer that would send funds to the gunsmith's account. "Yes, I must definitely have him," he said as he again returned the gunsmith's smile.

[Pi dArtois]

His words made her smile, the small lifting of her lips were a testament to her approval at his words. She supposed it wasn’t the norm to talk about guns as if they had personalities and were entities in their own right. She gave them names because she wasn’t one of the people who thought like that.

She still owns the gun she’d first had custom made for herself. It wasn’t the best weapon she had anymore and she didn’t carry it herself when she hunted because it didn’t serve her purposes anymore but the emotional attachment she had for the weapon wouldn’t let her, let it go.

So Michael carried Stella. The long beautiful rifle now kept one of Pi’s most trusted people safe when he was roaming the slums picking up items she needed to keep up with her gun making passion.

“I think he was made for you… and to sit with Ivy and Aqi.” Pi added to the conversation, her words affectionate and indulgent. It was an affection and indulgence directed completely at the weapons she had made, and so was the smile.

With those words Pi turned her attention to the man. It was interesting really, that this would be the first time she’d taken the real opportunity to look at him. It was as if buying three of her guns had created a tenuous connection that had grown with each meeting. And with each meeting her attention diverted less on the weapons and more on the man himself. Curiosity built, questions swimming the narrow channels of her wind, swimming up until she was almost tempted to voice them.

Pi wanted to know who he was, why he bought her guns, what it was he liked about them, or her as a gunsmith. Because she was proud of what she’d made, proud and humble that someone thought well enough of them to buy them, yes, but also humbled by the fact he’d come back again (for the third time). Except she didn’t ask and the words were stopped before they could find their way to her lips because the relationship between a gunsmith and the person she sold the weapons too was a tenuous one. By its definition it required brevity and while she might feel a more solid connection to the man, she still didn’t know him beyond his name. Nor did she know him much beyond the guns she knew he now owned.

“You look well.” Pi said, allowing herself only a little comment, a passing observation. The kind a person said to another that might encourage conversation, maybe. She wasn’t’ entirely certain she wanted conversation, then again, it could be possibly her inner voice was trying, in a round about way to get him to tell her more about who he was. What he did.

She could tell he was a vampire, but more than that, she had no idea. “Kith is $25,000.” A little more than Ivy and Aqi, but he’s… bigger, more power.” She added, giving details of the weapons and transaction before quieting.

[Xian]

Ever since he could remember, the Other had always had an eye for beauty, though if he were to define it, it would be a beauty that would be similar yet removed from how others perceived it. Different, and as far as he knew, rather unique. The beauty he saw was in movement and the potential for movement, how lines and curves could convey power and action, how something or someone could project a quality that he could not define.

But if he tried, it would have to do with how something could be dangerous, or passionate, or desperate, or any of a wide range of emotions and ideas, and how they could be expressed by physical form and the action or inaction of that form.

Once, nights after Black Thursday, he had followed a young woman as she walked home, so attracted was he to the beauty in her form, and in her movement. The slight stagger, the strained breathing, the subtle hunch of the shoulders and strain of the muscles barely perceived through her heavy clothing. He had done nothing then but watch her and follow her, and he had never sought to see her again.

Another night, he had fired at a target in the exact same manner for an entire night, trying to recreate the flash he had but seen for the barest fraction of a second. A combination of light and sound from the muzzle of Ivy, matched with the reflection of the same flash and the lights in the firing range, bouncing off some unknown surface. He only had the memory of that instant, but as the sun came up and he lay down for his rest, he was grateful to have seen it.

He didn't often seek it, though he would find it almost anywhere, and it could even almost distract him from his typical wariness. He had seen such beauty among his vampire kin, had seen it in Xian's visual representation of the Web, in the flash of a blade as it sang through the air towards his head. That had been a close call, but he had smiled as he ducked beneath the swing.

Before the hunter could make a second attempt, Aqi was in his hand. The hunter barely saw the slim handgun before she tore through both his arm and his stomach. As the hunter lay dying, the Other even thanked him silently for that flash of beauty, before helping him onwards.

He had seen such beauty in the gunsmith as well, a beauty beyond the typical appeal he was certain others saw in her. Perhaps that was why he returned as often as he had, or at least one reason. Another part was certainly because he saw beauty in her handiwork, that and found himself both needing and wanting another weapon. So why not satisfy all desires at once?

He perceived a similar kind of beauty in the way Kith lay in his case, a potential for movement, powerful curves and lines, a quiet danger. It was almost enough for him to miss the gunsmith's words, and he almost failed to respond to them at all, but he managed to tear himself away to agree with the gunsmith with a simple nod of his head.

"Yes," he managed to whisper as he shook his head slightly. In his mind, Kith seemed to make one last attempt to call him as he turned away; for a moment, he seemed to sulk before he lay silent and still. The Other knew that it was only his imagining, but he also conceded that he would not be surprised if he found Kith temperamental later on.

"I am well, thank you," he answered the gunsmith. His voice remained calm and even, but he did pick up a slight tremor at the end, a sign of the excitement that was leaking through. He allowed some of it to show in his grin as he turned to her, an attempt to convey his satisfaction with a minimum of words.

He realized that this was more conversation than they ever had in the past, and for the briefest moment he wondered again what had changed. His initial impressions were that she preferred to keep their relationship purely business, though this was, after all their third meeting. He conceded that that was likely all it was, remembering the one who was the night manager of the shooting range he frequented, who had engaged him in similar conversation after he had been there a few nights in a row.

"Twenty-five thousand it is," the Other said, and he reached towards his accounts over the Web to complete the transfer. If it had been just any mortal, he would have brought cash; but he assumed she knew what he was, just as he was aware of what she was. Sometimes it was difficult to tell, but other times it seemed blood called out to blood, and vampires just knew.

"I've made a transfer to your account, please feel free to confirm the transfer yourself, of course." The Other took a step closer towards the table where Kith lay, his hand out to lay a finger on the handgun. He paused, but the moment of hesitation passed, and he traced the lines of the pistol from the tip of the barrel, through the sights, down to the grip, and lightly over the trigger.

"And thank you, yes, I was looking for more power," he admitted. He wasn't sure why he felt so willing to openly speak aloud, but then he didn't often question why he did what he found himself doing. At least not until long after the deed had been done. "I ran into... some trouble a few nights ago, and while Ivy was up to the task, I realized that some nights I may need just a little more."

"No offense, my dear," he whispered almost inaudibly to the pistol at the small of his back.

[Pi dArtois]

Pi’s head bobbed in agreement.

There wasn’t really much more to say. This had to be the longest conversation her and Xian had managed in total and it was progress of a sort. She could go on about the other facets of Kith that she assumed Xian might be interested in but Pi wasn’t sure it was necessary. Not this time, not after he had taken a weapon of hers home and had come back for more.

Pi was spare with words. She wasn’t the kind to wax on and on, words tripping over one another to leave her mouth and fill a social void. For her silence wasn’t something to be avoided and she waited patiently as the man ran a possessive finger along the weapon she had made.

It wasn’t hard to feel a kinship for how he caressed the gun. She was the one who had spent hours over the crafting table with the parts that would eventually make the weapon on the table. She had picked the barrel and stock, sometimes taking days to improve it, test it and improve it more. There had been hours of effort put into what lay there and it was nice to see it appreciated, her effort validated.

Isn’t it wasn’t everyone wanted? For someone to appreciate their work and give them their approval. Pi might not need to fill the silence with speech but she couldn’t help but smile at how he seemed to like the weapon she had made.

“Good, it’s all yours.” She said at last.

There were things she felt in kinship with Xian, certainly her passion for weapons and specifically the ones she had made for him.

“I’m not offended at all.” Pi answered, smiling. “I understand completely how this city can be and how important it is to have weapons that will stand up to the … creatures we face. Don’t worry at all.”


“Before you go, I wanted to say. I’m really happy you like the guns I make. I’m pretty proud of them. Thank you.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the thing to thank the person who purchases something you make, but it felt right. It seemed the right thing to do to acknowledge how she felt about him being a repeat buyer. And when she finished she leaned back on the desk, hitching herself so her *** rested next to the gun case.

“Hopefully, this won’t be the last time we see one another.”