Log:This Feather's Seen Things
Every so often, Phoenix makes his way down to Scavenger Central to poke around through the stalls and wares within the warren of caves and tunnels that the Scavengers within the Prime tower call their temporary home when not out in the wastes. Sometimes, he's looking for something that he can use in his performances. Sometimes, it's just to listen to the stories that are told of the world beyond Sanctuary, a world that is very rarely free to see. Sometimes, it is to meet up with familiar faces. Today, he seems to be looking for someone in particular, heading toward the spot he's most likely to find Hexeyed Charlie.
Charlie has a little stall set up here, indeed, at which he sells his wares. He has all sorts of junk and trinkets, but everyone knows his specialty is booze. The hard stuff. Some of it he makes himself, some of it he finds out in the world, some of it is produced by his companion, Fynch, who is probably wandering around somewhere nearby. Charlie, his hair sticking up at all sorts of interesting angles, has his boots up on the table part of his stand as he counts out what appears to be some sort of pill. Squatting down on a crate below the stand is Hot Math, who is counting pills even faster, his lips moving as he goes. He looks like he's possibly been doing this for hours.
Booze is a good commodity to have, and some of Charlie's hard stuff is just what some of his other contacts like, but don't have any interest in going down to Scavenger Central to get it, when they can simply give him the Lux and drink it while spending time with him. And so he acquires it himself and keeps some on hand. He glances over at Hot Math for a moment, and then back toward Charlie. Today, he's dressed in a more subdued manner than the leather and skin that shows off his ink that he wears to perform. Today, he's out on his own business, and so it's simple grey trousers and matching shirt over his black boots. "Charlie," he says in greeting.
It takes Hot Math a moment, but he looks up at Phoenix in flat-out alarm, staring in that fishy way of his, before abruptly going back to counting, even faster than before. Charlie jerks his head off, blowing out the smoke from the hand-rolled cigarette-like thing he's been smoking. "Phoenix," he barks. Unlike Hot Math, he stops counting as he sizes up the other. "What can I do you for? Lux is the word? I've got Lux, you know I have. What do you want today? We've got a special on this one." With a grunt, he pulls up a huge jug from under the counter. The cloudy glass makes it a bit hard to tell what's inside. "Fynch and I made it. Rare succulent. Strong as fuck."
Phoenix just stares at Hot math with those pale eyes, and a flicker of a smile spreads over his lips. It's not a nice smile, per se. There's teeth involved. But his attention quickly shifts back to Charlie and he nods, looking the jug over critically. Then he nods once and holds up two fingers. Two bottles. Then he reaches into his pocket and he pulls out the Lux, flashing it briefly, not that Charlie doesn't know he's good for it. "Strong's good," he says. Strong is what this particular clientele is looking for.
Hot Math is not going to look at Phoenix again. Nope. Nope. Gotta keep counting. Charlie opens his palm for the tokens. You better believe he wants those in his hand before he hands anything over. "It's stronger than anything a Savvy'll make, I can tell ya that. You wanna taste some first? For you, I'll do that." He pours out two small glasses from the huge jug, smoke dangling from his lips, before reaching under for two bottles. Those are the ones for sale, apparently. "For you, I'll even throw in something extra if you can make it worth my while later." Charlie likes cutting deals with the Fortunate.
Phoenix puts the tokens in Charlie's palm and gives a nod. He'll taste it first, since it's being offered. He watches as some of the liquid is poured into the glasses, and takes one when offered. There's a slightly raised brow at the mention of something extra. He takes a drink from the glass and then says, "Depends on what the something extra is," sucking a breath in through his teeth with a vague hiss at the potency of the alcohol. He hands the glass back and nods. "That'll do."
Yes. This shit will put the proverbial hair on your chest. "A performance. What did you think I meant?" Charlie scowls, grounding his smoke out in the underside of a lid. Hot Math looks over, watching the slow sizzle of the smoke as it pans out. Sensitive lad. Then Charlie pushes the bottles closer to Phoenix. "I'll trade you something extra for one of your shows. Just for you." From the pile of rough pills he was counting out early, he pushes exactly one over to Phoenix, explanation-free.
Phoenix raises a brow at the scowl. "Didn't ask how I'd make it worth your while," he points out. "Asked what the something extra was." But when the pill is pushed over, that seems to answer the question, and he nods. "Alright." Apparently that transaction works out for him. He takes it and pockets it in a small pouch in his pocket, and takes up the two bottles for the Lux that he'd already handed over. "You let me know when and where. Got any preferences as to what you want to see?" Some prefer the poi, others like the whips, the staves, the fire breathing, the fire swallowing, depending on their personal interests. For a private show, it's the client's choice.
Charlie squints. "I don't know. Surprise me." Awfully open-ended. But the pill and bottles are given up, and the Lux is quickly pocketed. Hot Math looks at the Lux as though he's really keen to count those, too, but he returns to his pill counting. "When? Soon. Where? Someplace private. What?" Charlie takes a long drink from his glass and grins, showing his crooked teeth. "Fire. Lots of it."
Phoenix studies Charlie for several long moments, and then he gives a single nod of his head. "Alright." There aren't many private places in Sanctuary. Certainly none where one can swing around things on fire, but there are private sectioned off stages in the bazaar that one can use to give private shows. He'll reserve one for later. "I'll send word."
'Private' is a relative word, of course. Not many people in this place get much privacy, although Charlie does have a sweet ice cream van. He grunts and takes another drink. "Good. What else? What's the word? You need anything else?" Then, briefly distracted, he hands another box to Hot Math, this one full of Lux. More counting, apparently. Hot Math looks about as thrilled as he can get.
Phoenix isn't the particularly chatty sort, so unless someone asks him a specific question, he's unlikely to volunteer much in the way of conversation, so he gives a slight shrug of one shoulder as to what the word is. "Nope, just the booze. Thanks, Charlie." His eyes follow the box to Hot Math for a moment and then they shift back to Charlie. "When was the last time you were out?" meaning out in the wastes. "You find any feathers? Or see anybody else who might have some?" Phoenix doesn't wear or use anything with feathers, so they're likely not for him.
Hot Math hunches his shoulders up: please don't notice me. Shit, you noticed me. He counts faster. "Not long ago," Charlie says, fishing out a fresh cigarette. Dark grey paper wrapped hastily around a bundle of things that probably shouldn't be smoked. "Feathers? Whatcha need those for? I mean, look around." He extends his arms to the various trinkets around him, everything from car rims to dried lizard skin. "I got everything."
"I don't. Visa asked me to let her know if I saw any," Phoenix says. Visa is another of the Fortunate, a clothier of some skill, and apparently she's looking for feathers, likely for some piece that she's working on. He glances over the various assortment of stuff and things, but doesn't see any feathers. That's not unusual. Feathers are delicate things and finding ones in good condition, or off something other than a carrion bird, isn't highly likely.
Charlie knows Visa, maybe even likes her. "I got one. That's it." He reaches into the pocket of his ratty trench coat and pulls out a single, equally ratty vulture feather. Who knows why he's been carrying it around. "Probably not pretty enough for you lot."
Phoenix shrugs his shoulders, "I'll let her know you've got one, see if she's interested." He doubts it, given the dubious look that he gives the ratty vulture feather, but then, it's Visa. One never knows what she might find couture after all.
Charlie strokes the feather, staring at it. His new cigarette, unlit, dangles from his lip. "She should take this one. One-time offer. I'd only give it to her. This feather's seen things, man." Hot Math suddenly looks up again and stares at the feather. He looks like he wants to say something but, typically, does not.
Phoenix glances from the feather to Hot Math and then back to Charlie, expression skeptical at best. "That's her call to make," he says, but it's likely that he'll pass the information on in case she wants to follow up on it. Finally, he straightens, tucking the bottles under his arm. "Thanks," he says, nodding toward the bottles. Clearly, he's got some other things to do. "I'll send a message for the show." And then, he begins to head back out the way that he came.