Two Tramps in a Dumpster; One Full Beer (VIV)

[Miki]

Glade 5 4622¤

"A sore thumb". That's what that brat on the train had called her. What a pointless ride, but her chariot was stocked with Izul back at the Shithole. Izul was there looking for any way to repair and insisted on Miki leaving her bike there for Izul to inspect and tune. In reality she was no good at any sort of repairs but an orkhai was a hard person to bargain with, Miki had to cave. So there she found herself. Crammed like sardines in a moving tube speeding like a bullet towards Amoren. Miki was supposed to be meeting with Hector again to talk about potential clients but could only think about two things, both on the verge of breaking her mind. Brats and beer. Not the good kind of brat either, not a sausage, the spoiled kind. The rotten kind. The kind that wouldn't stop staring deeply into her soul with his deathly pale skin and sickly blue eyes.
"Excuse me."
Miki asked again for the third time. What was wrong with this train? The butlers were purposefully ignoring her. Finally after tugging on the man's sleeve he turned to face her, a curt "Yes?" came from him before he tried to get away again. Her grip tightened as the brat took a fevered, squealed breath, the ever present watching closing in on her.
"I would like a beer, please. Or ale, now."
She said it as a question and a command at the same time and yet she was dismissed.
"I'm sorry, madame, but we are fresh out of beer and ale."
A sneer and a tsk later, the butler was gone. The rest of the train ride consisted of passive aggressive bullying as the brat whispered in his outside voice to his mother about how disgusting he thought Miki was. She sniffed and bit her tongue, knowing that she could kill them in an instant and hoped to never find them at her mercy.

Finally at her destination she had never felt more alienated in Daravin. Stepping off the train a billow of smoke obscured her view until revealing the bustling lives of so many people traveling at this station. And none of them were red. At this moment though, this didn't matter. There had to be a street vendor around here somewhere. Beer. Shouldering her rifle, wrapped in cloth for dignity, and adjusting her backpack she headed into the strange land looking for anything she could bargain for or take. With so many people she wondered about picking pockets but had no affinity for this. It would likely just call more attention to her as she would fail. So instead she mill around aimlessly looking for someone to sell her the booze.

Yet, there was none. Not a single fucking drop.

[Vivian]

Oh the train station! How Vivian loved the train station! Full of stupid marks who were too exhausted from their journeys to realize Vivian’s slender fingers in their pockets. He bumped into a young woman with a soft apology, casting his large blue eyes to the street. Faced with such a handsome creature so down on his luck, the woman adjusted her clothing and returned his apology.

Vivian tucked her small purse into his jacket. Too easy. Of course one couldn’t work a crowd like this for too long. One squeal and the jig was up. His idea was to get in and get out, and maybe see if anything interesting was tossed away by exhausted travelers. He had snatched up two or three easy marks from the most tired train inhabitants, and that would feed him for a few days.

“Now for a hat trick.” He muttered to himself, and made for the large trash bin near the train. It was where the porters dumped all the refuse from the journey, and anything the travelers didn’t want to keep once they’d arrived. Vivian jumped in without a second look, landing waist deep in old papers, food scraps, torn clothing, ruined luggage and the like.

He pawed through the first layer and stuck a half-eaten sausage pasty in his mouth. There was a half a pear here, a crumpled packet of lemon drops, and- oh hello. Happy dinner to him! Vivian held up a half-full bottle of whiskey. Someone had been sneaking it on the train, perhaps one of the porters was storing it so he didn’t get caught on the job!

Well, his shit hiding place was another man’s treasure trove. Vivian sat in a corner of the dumpster and took a nip of the whiskey, grinning and taking bites of his pasty and pear. Occasionally he popped a lemon drop in his mouth. Not a bad haul indeed!

Gods, he did so love the train.

[Miki]

¤

Moments in time, a baby crying, Miki is distracted and pushed headlong into a young human who brushes her off with a sneer. A woman with a stroller had made Miki's train of thought wander and think about places it might not ought to be. Places of the past, her own young ones who died. While the thoughts came it was numb and disjointed, then thoughts of the bottle yet again after the rude awakening. This was going to be a rough trip, she suspected, and there was nothing more she wanted to do than wrap her lips around some liquid courage and snatch up a few hours of relaxation where her mind could safely drift at the bar.

There were some seedy places in Amoren. Trashy people were everywhere. You could tell them by their lackluster clothing and no sense of individuality. In the Badlands they wore less than rags, yet somehow right now Miki felt like maybe she was dirty by Amoren's standards? Her cotton and leather clothing was filled with holes. Her hair and face was greasy, maybe after the beer she could buy a bath token and use some public plumbing. It would be nice to not stink like a gambler's wallet. Speaking of. On a last ditch and unsavory effort she decided to look for thrown away bags by the rubbage heap. Bags from pick pockets who took the contents and tossed the rest. Or hopefully left a thing or two behind. The pile was deep and she waded in far but figured well, she was already disgusting, and it would be worth the cash. Would it not? She found one bag and took out a couple farthing, stuffing them in her pocket, but found nothing else other than hard candy.

That was when she noticed the bum drinking a bottle of whiskey and laying in the piles of garbage. Miki looked at her farthings she had just retrieved, then back at the bum. She chuckled nervously,
"Well, how long have you been there then? Is this your squat? Here, take them. I can get my own beer at the tavern. What about you? You will just stay here in this pile of trash and do this all day?"
Miki handed the coins to him with gentle red hands, the nails thin and pointed. He was a good looking man, his eyes held a twinkle like those who knew fate and their own sure path better than others. Maybe he was here waiting for someone.
"I am headed to the Crowing Stone, you heard of that before? Good bards. Dive of a tavern not far. If you want a beer. Come follow me."
It was out of character for her to extend a hand to just anyone, but this man seemed somehow out of place. He didn't look like he belong to be in a dumpster drinking and Miki couldn't head off to shelter and comfort without at least extending some kindness to the tramp.
"My name is Miki, yours is? And no, you don't have to follow me I just thought, maybe you needed a meal man. Headed there myself for some hot food right now. Look I'm not being pushy but why eat from the trash when I can always just buy you a meal."

She would leave for the Crowing Stone, a tavern not far from where they were just on the outskirts of the suburb that crowded the station. It was clearly a dive and mostly empty. She would take a seat at the bar.
"Two hot apple ciders."
She would order. Then a silence would pass while Miki trailed off into her mind. Why was this person different? Perhaps it was Amoren and the knowledge that even at a place like Crowing Stone she was still 100% with some sort of law and order, so long as her own antics were not caught. Another thing, Miki has never seen him again before and knew a portion of the underground in Daravin. Maybe he needed a lead, which meant maybe he would want to talk business. And finally, finding each other wading in trash while she was just having a moment thinking about how gross she was well, it felt a little too much like coincidence. The slight trepidation was put at ease by knowing that even now she was making moves and assuring her rise to the top, street people knew and saw much.
"Do you know of the Badlands, Mister? I may have a proposition for you. You see I run an organization called Snake Eyes, we get shit done. You can hold a gun? Can you fight? Hell even if you didn't want a jacket and just wanted to merc up with us I would let you get paid. Narcs, bandits, drug dealers, I need any sort of cash flow and my people and I are solid fighters."
Finally, hot cider touched her lips. The sweet taste of the golden alcohol poured down her throat and burned there, right where it was supposed to! She took another gulp and another before returning her full attention to the man she had dragged here.

[Vivian]

Vivian was in a damn good mood. He could hear the roar of the crowd outside, and the sounds of people and children. A passenger train wasn’t a good place to ply his trade, sadly. Women usually complained, children tried to pickpocket him, and men didn’t engage his services so openly. Vivian was someone a man went to when he had cash and no shame, and he was fine with that lot in life.

He heard someone rustling outside, and he stuffed the food down his gullet. So much for enjoying it. It could be taken from him by another vagrant if he hesitated, and food was safer in his belly. He wolfed down the last of the pasty and most of the pear. He was in the middle of alternating between lemon drops and sips of whiskey, downing them like medication, when the woman popped her head in.

He blinked. His squat? Well, he supposed it was. He eyed the money she held out to him, and took it suspiciously. The coins were whisked away into a pocket. What was wrong with sitting in a somewhat warm dumpster drinking free whiskey? Besides, he was friends with the rats. He took another sip of his whiskey.

He couldn’t really fault her logic, but this had been happening a lot lately. Maybe he just had a look on his face that said ‘feed me’…whether it was cock or food he wasn’t arguing. He didn’t normally go for women, but he’d serviced a fair few. Normally women were pickier with their prostitutes. He stood and put the neck of the bottle in his teeth, climbing out of the dumpster and brushing trash off himself.

“Can’t argue with that.” He offered the bottle to her. “Better with one of these.” He held out the bag of lemon drops, showing her the one he had on his tongue with a smirk. The lemon and sugar slowed the harshness of the whiskey. “Vivian.” He said by way of introduction.

Vivian was certainly a sore thumb. He was quite the pretty face, which he accentuated with dark makeup around his blue eyes. His white gold hair was cropped close to his head to discourage lice, but he did indulge in a small forelock to enhance his looks. He wore a dirty coat with what was once an impressive fur ruff around the collar, and pants low enough on his hips to call into question whether they’d hold up at all. They certainly didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.

Vivian followed the woman to the tavern, vaguely surprised they let him in. The bartender gave him a look, then eyed Miki. “Girl, I’d strongly suggest keeping an eye on your purse.” He grunted as he set down their ciders.

“Lots of pickpockets in Amoren.” Vivian agreed with a wink at the bartender. The arsehole better not blow it for him. “How’s the wife?” He asked with a predatory smile. Oh, he’d blown quite a few bartenders for drinks. The bartender colored, muttered something, and went to tend to other patrons.

Vivian downed his drink like he was afraid someone would take it from him, and refilled the glass with the last of the whiskey. The empty bottle was dropped unceremoniously behind the bar when the tender’s back was turned. He blinked at Miki. She thought he was a mercenary? He settled back on his seat.

“I don’t hold a gun but I’m pretty good at getting information out of a man if that’s what you need.” He joked.

[Miki]

¤

Vivian looked in a word even moreso out of place than Miki. He made himself comfortable from trash pile to bar and Miki noted the lackadaisical way he seemed to introduce himself. She took the bottle and downed some before following him to the bar. Miki smiled when she was noted to eye her purse but did nothing at Vivian's request, merely narrowed her eyes more slightly as if to take him in fuller. Conversation continued, and Vivian made the bartender blush by asking about his wife. Miki raised an eyebrow, but finally spoke.
"Pickpockets ain't quite the crowd I'm lookin' for."
So he wasn't good with a gun, Miki eyed him again, looking him blatantly up and down in a nonsuggestive way, noting he seemed to be unarmed and left little to the imagination regarding clothing. In Amoren?
"I see, so you prostitute? Well ain't that sumthing. I can't imagine you get very far dressed like that in this stuffy place, even I gotta scuttle like a rat from the sewer and do business with my people. Y'ain't gonna catch me in one of those fancy outfits to fit in."
Miki spat her distaste.
"Whatever floats your boat I guess. Look, you ever need some business done or want to learn the gun, come find me. I can't imagine in your profession that some firepower wouldn't go far. Say, you know where I was coming from or not? Badlands bound, they are what I call home. Find me there in Traphole though don't go asking for my name, I'm usually in the smithies or factories there making parts if you ever need to find me."
Eyeing this strange person up and down one more time she made her intentions clear.
"I know what it's like to not have anything in life, rely on no one but yourself. I like those kinds of people. Don't need me, I don't need them. But if you ever need anything, let me know. Name of the business, not to mention, I wouldn't want to be sucking dicks for my money. Last thing, I know a nice little brothel out in the badlands if you're ever looking for something more stable. I highly recommend it, Well of Fortune. Know a guy."