The street, at night

It had been a productive day for Garrett Argil. A good few days of research on just what ailments were most common in eelmen and centricrus had helped him net almost 300 Keneta a day. That is, before today. Now he was attracting observers, the kind of observers with that dangerously smug look to them that spoke of illegal activities. Their ragged clothes spoke of thugs, the kind that didn't take to well to various types of rose water. From the looks of things, he was going to have to cancel his previous arrangements.

With some kind words to people and an assurance he'd be in the same spot tomorrow, he closed his cart and wheeled it back to put it away then headed down the street at a brisk pace. Best to get rid of the problem before they had a chance to kill him or worse.

Alistair promptly followed the kid, keeping a quick eye out for any tricks or back-tracking. He wasn't going to let his quarry get away just yet. They had business to discuss.

Luke grunted himself away when Alistair headed off again, rubbing his eyes and moving to follow. The sleep had done him a world of good, as well as a vacation from the ship and the memories in the ship. Now he was ripe and ready to exact revenge. Preferably with a brick, but he'd make due with getting his money back.

Garrett himself continued to head down the street, turning down alleys and around as many corners as he could find. Despite his best efforts, these two gentlemen were sticking to him like glue. After half an hour of running and avoiding, he was beginning to get tired.

With a glance around his surroundings, he chose to head for a bar. A bar relatively close to s police station, most likely one of those places a lot of policemen would be found on their breaks. While it was tempting to go to the station itself, he knew plenty well that getting exposed there was pretty much an invitation into a cell.

Once he was inside, the dubious salesman sat down at a table facing the door, and waited for his pursuers.

Alistair muttered to Luke as he saw the boy head into the bar "you stand behind him. I'll talk." When he entered he saw the kid in one of the two places he expected him to be, sitting where he had a good view of the door. That was certainly better than him trying to slip out the back. As amusing as the chase had been, Alistair had no desire to continue it.

Alistair took a seat at the kid's table. "Good afternoon," he said cheerfully, smiling his most friendly smile.

Luke moved to stand behind the young looking con artist, crossing his hands to keep himself from throttling the kid. At the very first chance of a fleeing kid...

Garrett returned the smile with the same, energetic smile he used for crowds. "Good evening Gentlemen. I'm afraid my cart's closed for now, though if you come back tomorrow I can help you with anything you need. Or is there something else we should talk about?"

"Drink?" Alistair asked casually, letting the question roll off him and purposefully taking his sweet time. He would make the kid wait in suspense questioning what was about to happen, whether he was about to get his face pounded in, or if some hope might be had. It was a good way to make a man sweat, making him wait.

"Not much of a drinker myself. I prefer to inhale my vices," Garrett said, moving to casually take out his carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and popped one in his mouth. He took a few minutes to fish for his lighter.

Alistair, never one to leave home without his nice silver lighter, grabbed it out immediately to light the boy's cigarette.

Garrett paused with the lighting. He was almost certain this was some sort of mind game, though couldn't tell if it was playing with a quarry before going in for the kill or trying to unnerve him into making stupid mistakes. Either option was bad.

With a quick puff on his newly lighted cigarette, Garrett asked, "So, if you're not in the mood to talk, I hear there's a world fair in town. Plan on going to it?"

"No," Alistair answered before waving over a waiter. "Whiskey for me and my two companions." He turned back to the young man, deciding he might as well speak. "No, I'm here on another matter. A matter of business you might say."

Garrett's face soured slightly at the order of whiskey. He was not liking this idea of not being in control of what what ordered for him or when he lit his cigarette. "If you're wanting to fund the miracle tonic, you're going to have to ask my uncle about it. I can get you the number if you let me run back to my room..."

"Good lie," Alistair answered with a knowing grin. "You say it so easily, almost as if it were true. You really need to watch how your left eye twitches when you say it, though." The whiskey was brought and Alistair toasted the man before drinking a bit. "In any case, I'm not interested in your sales of dyed rose water. Well, I suppose I am, but only in the particular sale of one bottle to the man standing behind you. The memory tonic you sold him was... lacking. He would like the return of 600 tiels. As a well-esteemed business man, I'm sure you would be more than happy to return the money. Unhappy customers means bad business."

"I'm terribly sorry, I think he might have gotten a faulty batch. I can offer him another bottle, no charge," Garrett replied, keeping up his smile despite the assault on his nerves. It was definitely wearing on him, the actions and being called out. Despite his attempts to remain calm, his feet and fingers twitched slightly in nervousness.

Alistair shook his head in mock pity, amused at how effective he was at making the man nervous. "There goes that left eye again. And we'd much rather a refund. That would come to 600 tiels... or about 350 Keneta."

"I'd love to pay, though I'm afraid I left my wallet at my room. Mind if I grab it?"

"Come now," Alistair answered, "even a great fool could see through that one. I was watching you earlier. You pulled in a good 300 kenetra."

A bit of a grump appeared on Garrett's face as he moved to grab his wallet out of his pocket. "Fine. Here's your 350 kenetra." He grumbled, sliding the bills over the table. "That's all the business you need?"

Alistair counted the money, then handed it over to Luke, keeping 100 for himself. "Such a pleasure doing business with you. Perhaps we shall have more pleasant dealings in the future."

Luke hesitantly took the 250 he was handed, grump still on his face. That was it? Just a bit of money? It didn't feel right to him, not from all the time, trust and reputation he lost over the incident. It just felt like this wasn't enough.

Garrett on the other hand grinned widely, relieved his obligations were over now. "I don't expect many more dealings in the future if you don't mind."

"Now, now, my young friend," Alistair answered easily. "You have potential, but knocking off a few kenetra from several people is not nearly as satisfying as gaining ten times the amount from one. You're new to the business, aren't you?"

"Relatively," Garrett answered, taking a glance for the exit. "Though this isn't a business with a very long career path."

"You'd be surprised. The Professor's been in for over 25 years, he said, and I damn well believe him. He knows all the tricks. You? I spotted you as an amateur from a mile away, though you're not bad, kid. Could polish your technique a bit, get off with more in another profitable venture.... With a face like that, you could be the most honest, earnest-looking fellow in the trade. Now, tell me honestly, how old are you really?"

Garrett relaxed a little bit more. He was now pretty certain Alistair was not some gangster from the human side of town, though discussing the details of his life made him nervous. Even more so in contexts he couldn't just make up a new persona for. "23 if you'd believe it. I assume you've been in the business longer."

"Ten years," Alistair answered. He looked at Luke and nodded toward the chair next to Garrett.

Luke moved to sit down next to Garrett, picking up the whiskey from the table and taking a long draw. He still wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing, but it was looking like the threats were over, much to his disappointment.

Garrett on the other hand left his drink untouched and instead nursed his smoke. "Ten years? A long time for this business. A long time to go without screwing up."