37. Sightseeing

"Do you want to be borrowed, Mika?" Cri asks.

Mika gives her a strained smile as the stranger stands over his shoulder, her expression impenetrable.

"I don't think I have much of a choice on this one, Cri."

Alarm bells are ringing in Saeldor's mind as they look swiftly between Mika and Rochelle. They were conscious and aware and never stopped trying (and failing) to reach Ta'lok the entire time he was dominated. Mika doesn't look as distant as Ta'lok did, but magic can take many forms.

"What does that mean?" they ask, in a voice that says they suspect an answer they don't like.

Mika frowns, "I can't really say-" he starts to deflect, before clocking the worried creases in the firbolg's brow. "Oh shit, no," he amends, hastily, "no, nothing like that. Both hands on the wheel here, I swear."

"Could you excuse us for one second, please?" Marwa is already standing up and gently wrapping her hand around his arm as she addresses Rochelle, "I just have to check something."

Mika clocks the tension. He looks at her hands when she takes his arm, but continues to stand after she drops them, looking between the concerned faces of Saeldor and Cri and the constructed composure of Mirage. He gives an exasperated exhale.

"We'll be fast," he says, ignoring the displeasure on Rochelle's face, and strides off with Mirage toward the bar.

The bartender looks up as they approach.

"Another glass of the red, please." Marwa says, leaning on the bar with her back to the group. Mika takes a seat, sideways so he can see both Mirage and the table.

The bar isn't terribly busy, there's a handful of locals enjoying an after-work brew, but this isn't a party place. The ten or so feet they've moved from the table is enough for privacy, but only if no one's eavesdropping.

Marwa diverts a breeze of her personal winds to carry her words to Mika's ear only.

"She still in your head?"

He startles, probably not at the message: he's used to Mirage talking in their ears for stealth reasons. But in this context, he's surprised at the secrecy, the instant fight-mode.

"Wh- no. I said that, didn't I?"

"Just making sure the moment of privacy here extends to your thoughts," Mirage says, and brushes the hair at her temple with her wine glass.

Mika relaxes, taking her meaning. "Appreciate it, but like, I keep shit pretty battened down in here. It's not exactly public access"

"For the best. So, what's the password?"

For a second, he stares at her as if she's sprouted an extra head. Then he gives a single-syllable laugh.

"Potted plant," he says, shaking his head, "Marwa, really, you don't have to be this worried."

"You're not the boss of me," she says with a little smirk.

"What a relief, you'd be a terrible employee."

"That's the fucking truth," she guffaws. "Okay, sorry. Not trying to overreact but we're all, just. Here for you."

He smiles, as much at her laugh as the statement itself. "Appreciate it, really, but like,” he pauses, uncomfortable with the switch between her unmitigated indignation at Rochelle's interruption to her gentle caution now. He's not convinced she's convinced, and he doesn't know what will sway her.

"There's really nothing to worry about. She's not gonna hurt me."

"Of course she's not, she couldn't even if she wanted to."

A flat face like you know that's not what I meant.

Marwa sighs, swirling her glass and looking at it instead of his face. "I didn't - we didn't know what was going on. Still kind of confused, but I guess I didn't need to be aggressive about it. Sorry, I'll back off."

"I'm honestly happy to explain what I can," Mika offers, and he stands off the barstool in a silent indication to rejoin the group.

"Sure. After you," Marwa says, smooth, even. He's allowed to trust Rochelle based on his experiences, but Rochelle is going to have to earn Marwa's trust - and the others, too.

They reapproach the table. Saeldor's invited Rochelle to sit but she prefers to stand. Cri is on alert, but not for a fight. Her attentive gaze on Rochelle is soft, almost sympathetic. She's open, listening, waiting.

Rochelle looks at them as soon as they start heading back, then flinches.

"Knock first." Mika says, taking his seat again.

She frowns, displeased.

"Saeldor, like I was saying, it's not like the tower. I'm sorry to worry you. Tell me what I can do to prove I'm the only one in here. You have a spell or something?"

Saeldor's brows jump. Mika never lets anyone cast on him outside of emergency healing.

"Sure, but maybe we should move to somewhere more private first - if this is to do with..." they gesture vaguely in the direction of their cranium, and Mika stands in agreement.

"I'm staying here, we can use my room. It'll be a squeeze with everyone, but doable."

Rochelle looks increasingly irritated, her jaw clenched and her silent gaze swinging from speaker to speaker. As people start standing to settle bills for their already-acquired drinks, she'll look at Mika, flinch again, he'll give a "what'd I just say" kind of face.

Rochelle huffs, then says, aloud, "This is wasting time. I don't need them."

Mika smiles, patient through the strain. "Still waiting for step two, or is your face actual stone?" he asks, rhetorical. "There's time."

As they head upstairs, Mirage makes sure she's last in the marching order. Keeps her eye on Rochelle's back. She doesn't look like she has anything worth pinching, besides maybe that dagger on her hip, but if she thinks she can try anything while people are moving, she's got another thing coming.

Mika's single-bed room is indeed a squeeze with everyone inside, but they make it work. Mika's leaning against the door, standing, Rochelle next to him, tapping fingers on tightly-folded arms. Saeldor sits on the bed because the ceiling's not high enough to stand comfortably, Cri takes a seat next to him, and Mirage is standing near the wall opposite the door.

"There's a spell that lets me detect active magic," Saeldor says, once they're settled, "May I cast it on you, brother, just to be sure?"

Mika hesitates, has some quick questions about what the spell reads like and, if satisfied that it reads magical effects on a creature and not thoughts or non magical mental states, will agree.

Saeldor holds out his open palms, and begins reading the magic in Mika. From their perspective, it's like looking into a landscape, surveying the ecosystem. Some people have natural magic growing in harmony with their mundane aspects. Welcome spells like migratory creatures passing through. Unwanted external magic usually looks like an invasive species.

When they begin casting, they look startled, but then their face settles into focus and, after a moment, Saeldor sits back down, pronounces Mika clear of magical influence.

"Right on. That satisfies me, brother. You're clear. Just keep it that way, all right?"

"Plan to."

"Apologies for the bad faith, sister," Saeldor adds, looking at Rochelle, "I don't suppose you could tell us more about this loan you need on Mika here?"

"No." Rochelle says, flat, uncompromising.

Mika looks frustrated, like he knows they can't give details on the headstuff, but he also knows the group will not let him go off alone with her if she insists on this kind of reticence.

"Are you two connected, Mika?" Cri asks.

Instant eye contact from Mika, a bit of relief. "Yeah. I know you're all sick of hearing it, but I can't give you details either." He thinks about it; I think Ta'lok's not the only one who's clocked that his sneaking off is not for his own purposes. "I hate to belabour an inaccurate metaphor, but I guess you could say we have mutual orders. Incomplete, though, which leaves both of us kind of on-call."

He and Rochelle exchange a glance with that last comment. Mirage frowns but can't parse the meaning. Some mutually-held secret? Inside joke? more mental asides the rest of them don't get to hear? Either they're in each other's heads and talking, or they already agree on something and the look is a confirmation. She doesn't know, and she feels like she shouldn't care, but it does grate to be outside the loop.

"Can we help?" Cri asks

Mika looks at Rochelle, eyes up in an expression like he's hoping for a yes, but her face is a 'no' that's so immediate it's kind of derisive.

"We don't know that," Mika protests.

Rochelle looks at him with a flat expression. "Have you ever had an imperative that allowed company?" she challenges.

"Have you ever had one that demanded a team-up?" he fires back, immediate, "If it's a collaboration, why shouldn't it allow more?"

Either the conversation shifts telepathic, or they're locked in a stare-off. Either way, the silent tension in the room grows.

"I have a suggestion." Saeldor says softly, drawing both their gazes, "Why don't we take some time before your next set of orders comes in to get to know each other?"

Mika relaxes, Rochelle doesn't, and Saeldor shifts their gaze to her.

"We stick up for our own, sister. And seeing's how you and our good friend Mika here seem to be in similar spots, guess that makes you one of ours, too."

"I think that's a great idea" - Mika, who will stand away from the door but not get out from in front of it. "No one's gonna make you stick around," he continuse, addressing Rochelle, "But they don't bite, either." Then he shrugs and takes the unoccupied seat in the room, leaving the door free.

Through this conversation, Marwa iss not really listening to what's being said, she's not bothering to speak up. She is observing Rochelle like she's casing a heist. We can talk all day long, she thinks, but I am going to watch what you do to see what kind of person you are.

And what she observes isn't be surprising, considering her similarity to their warlock. Rochelle hasn't spoken unless waiting for her to do so is stopping the conversation. She's tense, stays near the door, didn't want to come up here, didn't want to sit down, didn't want to her take Mika aside. It's scanning not as generalized impatience, but more like being in a hurry, the tension of wanting something overwith.

She's standing still, but Rochelle's eyes have been in constant movement, darting between all of them, and she keeps frowning at Mika who's leaning on the door. She glances at the window a bunch. Feeling cornered. A wounded animal.

Marwa gets it. She tends to disarm with charm, if she can, but showing her metaphorical fangs is a solid defense strategy too, one she's used before. She snags a bag of chips out of her bag, and holds the open end to Rochelle without a word, very nonchalant.

"Did you just get into town tonight, Rochelle?" Cri asks, "Or do you live here?"

The chips distract Rochelle from the question though. She's squinting, suspicious at the non-sequitor. Mika smiles in appreciation, but then rolls his eyes at Rochelle's hesitation.

He reaches across Rochelle's space, grabs a chip, and looks pointedly at Rochelle while he eats it.

She huffs, a ruddy shade colouring her pale cheeks before she accepts the snack.

Mirage yanks the bag away from Mika, pointing it at Rochelle again once it's out of his reach.

"Excuse you, you have your OWN care package."

"Oh sure," he drawls through a grin, "speaking of your mom's food, you know she invited me to write too right?"

"Oh my god did she really?"

"Mrs. Noor. Today your daughter snatched food right out of my hands. I would continue this letter, but the hunger..." his tenor falters in a dramatic voice wobble.

"YOU BETTER NOT," Mirage exclaims, threatening him with a chip.

He swipes at it, but fails. Mirage laughs as she munches it, herself.

"Here, Rochelle." She sticks her tongue out at Mika and point the bag at her again.

She'll grab a modest handful, pokerfaced, looking between the two of them, thinking.

"But yeah, what Cri said. Where're you from?"

“Littlethorn.” It's a mumble.

Mika frowns, trying to think if he's heard of it. "That Norish? Callistan?" hedging his bets between north Primus' largest states.

"Liran," she snaps, indignant.

Marwa smiles. The oddly-musical-for-Common-Tongue name sparks a memory of history lessons. Once a province of Callist, Lira fought hard for its independence; the Liran identity is like 90% "Not Callistan." Briefly, she wonders how Mika would like it if someone mistook which borough of Midnight he hailed from.

For his part, Mika puts his hands up in a silent "okay okay my bad."

Rochelle is looking between everyone in the room, frowning. "You always work with these people?" she asks, looking at Mika, who glances at "these people."

"For a while now, yeah." His smile is somewhat nostalgic, appreciative. "Might be a task to peel me away from them at this point" laughs

Marwa grins. "We're coming up on our one year, guys! We should do something to celebrate. Rob a bank, blow something up."

Cri and Saeldor both smile and look excited when Marwa suggests a celebration, but then she starts giving suggestions and their expressions change. Mika's grin only grows with each one.

"Something big," he adds to her last point., "That manor house I mentioned is supposed to be abandoned..."

"Mika!" Cri is aghast.

"What? If no one's living there."

Marwa chuckles, looking at Rochelle and explain, "See the Boss is usually here to speak over us when we get talking like this, but he's not here, so."

"If he's on foot from Stagwall he'll probably get here tomorrow," Mika agrees, and the energy in his eyes is making Cri and Saeldor both nervous, because he seems more interested in all the wakeful hours between then and now than the actual ETA. They can all see the wheels spinning in his mind.

"You know," he says, grinning slyly at Marwa, "there's some interesting sightseeing in this town, if you're down for an evening tour."

"Oh of course," she responds, smoothly, "Sounds like fun, this is my first visit, so gotta hit up all the sights."

Cri tilts her head at them. "Are you sure? it's really coming down outside."

"We're not made of sugar," Mika says, brushing off her concern. "Rochelle, you should come along."

She looks at him like are you deranged and he winks, already hand on the door.

"We'll be back!" he says, letting Mirage out first and following. Rochelle hesitates, but steps after him as he adds "Don't wait up!"

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do" Saeldor calls after them.

"Fat chance," Mika scoffs, after door is shut and they're halfway back down the stairs. "So there was this absolute asshat who left the bar about an hour before y'all got here," he begins, and goes on to detail some local yokel who was just being an absolute dick, loudly, drunkenly, in the middle of the goddamn day. Snapping his fingers for service, complaining the coffee's not not enough...

"Stop," Marwa says, "you had me at 'snapped at the waitress.' I already hate his guts. Where is he, though?"

"Made a big deal about how if she knew how to make coffee right, she'd have a place up on the hillside like him instead of down by the river. Only saw one house up thataway."

Rochelle's looking back and forth between you as you exit the taproom. Marwa stirs up some air to keep the rain off her while Rochelle puts up her hood. Catches the stranger's glance.

"Um. Mika - did you? Rochelle, are you cool coming with us? Like the more the merrier, but I get that not everyone's comfortable with vigilante justice. Honestly Saeldor and Cri would be super chill to like, hang out, eat food with you, answer all your questions. They're the nice ones, to be honest."

I think Mika cocks an eyebrow at her, waiting.

She looks like she was on the fence and then Mirage brings up a night of conversational disclosure as the alternative and suddenly an illicit activity that probably calls for silence sounds like a dream.

"What're you gonna do to him?" she asks, hesitating.

"To him? Nothing, ideally. His stuff, though..." a grin from the rogue.

"No violence," Mika confirms, "Just general mischief and mayhem. And honestly, the other two won't push you for conversation if you're not down. Could use a lookout, though. Up to you."

She takes a minute to think about it, mulling over many things. This seems like a serious decision for her.

She nods, decisive. "I'll come."

Mika prompts, "As lookout, or...?"

"I can get some lookouts, if it's needed." She glances around as you walk. It really is coming down hard, the rain is limiting visibility a fair bit.

"Might be hard in this weather, though."

Mika's looking at her sideways, uncertain. "What kind of lookouts?"

Rochelle's gaze settles on a tall granary near the edge of town - couple blocks out of the way.

"I could show you?" She sounds uncertain, nervous.

"Hell yeah."

You three make your way over there, the silo's closed but the lock on it's simple. Rochelle's circling the wall looking for something, Mika asks if she needs inside and she says "sort of? but it's locked, so..." and he just looks at Marwa like 'you're up'

"Totally cool, guys." It's an easy lock. Mirage has it open in a trice.

The door swings open they all duck out of the rain. Rochelle immediately gestures for quiet from both of them, kneels on the ground, pulls her hood back so it's not dripping in front of her anymore as her eyes fade to an eerily glowing white.

After a moment, three rats venture forth from the shadows and crannies of the storehouse, noses up, whiskers twitching. they move until they're standing in front of her in a neat little line, waiting.

Mika is not excited. He can make a guess what's happening and its cool and he wants to know more because he really wants to compare power notes but also... rats. ugh.

"Oh, um. Cool." Mirage is uncomfortable, watching the creatures rapt attention. "Could you let them go, please?"

"Let th-" Rochelle looks up, frowning.

"I'm not controlling them"

"Oh. Phew, cool. Are you guys like, chatting?"

She nods, cocks her head at Mika and smirks over his discomfort.

"You can't do that?"

He shakes his head "More of a people language guy. Hey could you ask your buddy here to respect the personal space?" backing up a bit as one ventures closer, sniffing. The last sentence is a tense rush pitched just slightly higher than his usual cadence.

Rochelle giggles, it'd probably be cute if her eyes were normal.

"So,"

Rochelle turns to Marwa as the rogue speaks up.

"I won't get into it, but our group had some trouble with...a spot of Domination, recently. Wounds are still fresh, so. Part of the reason we reacted the way we did in the tavern, and why I jumped to that conclusion here. Sorry about that."

She shrugs. "It'd be weird if you weren't worried, I guess." She seems uncomfortable with the topic. Reaches into her bag and fiddles with something, hand comes back out with a little lump of cheese that gets all the rats' attention.

"They'll help out with scouting," she reports, pressing a palm down to the floor. It turns her arm into a bridge and the three rats march up her arm and settle on her shoulders under her cloak. Mika shudders.

"Great." Mirage looks like she says that to be polite, but she's also. A little unsettled.

"So you're what, thieves who only target assholes or something?" Rochelle stands, looking between them and affecting casuality.

Marwa grins, throwing her shoulders back and puffing out her chest in a comical brag. "We're adventurers! Standing up for the little guy, righting wrongs, fucking over people who don't get fucked over nearly enough."

Rochelle looks at her critically. Mirage shrugs off the pose.

"Cool." Rochelle says, unimpressed. "So she picks locks, and I've got scouts..." She looks at Mika.

At least, she tries to.

"She does more than lockpick by the way" comes a smug voice from no clear direction.

"Yeah, I look damn good doing it," Mirage winks. "Mika will watch our backs. And offer moral support, of course." She starts that last sentence like a joke and realizes that it's not a joke to her.

"How are you doing that??" Rochelle is distracted trying to track him and is going to twist her own neck off in the attempt if she's not careful.

"You just move the vectors."

"The what?"

He drops the distortion, and I think Rochelle jumps because he's in front of her.

"The light, the sound. The tactile reverb. When you reach out, look past the first layer." His voice is patient, teacher mode

Rochelle frowns, but then her face relaxes a little, her eyes fade out again. He smiles slightly, nods. His voice is low.

"See it? The waves are sound, the streaks are light. Try to follow one - see how it bounces? Objects have no will, but you do. You can let it go through, instead.”

Rochelle's still looking solid and present, but her face is focus.

"It's fast as thought, too fast to dodge, so don't. Just be still. Watch them gather sensation like beads on a string, but they can't take what they can't touch."

"There's so many," Rochelle whispers. Her eyes are normal again. Mika smiles, "It takes practice."

His attention returns to the room - he looks back and forth once between Marwa and Rochelle. "So! Shall we? You never got a chance to deface that other fucker's artworks, maybe this asshat has some you can make it up on."

"You're right!" Marwa grins, "Let's go find the thing he's vain about and deface it."