Witch Hunt

We decide to get moving, at Alabastra's insistence that we 'have time' for... whatever it is she plans.

'Walk and talk', she had said as we left. That she'd be spilling this information out into the open streets didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. "The Iron Syndicate are a... less than lawful outfit in the city", she begins. "The biggest, in fact, if you take 'em at their whole."

Tegan adds, "I'd say I'm surprised you've never heard of them, Bromley, but..."

"I don't get out much, yes, thank you for the reminder." I dart between two men in suits engaged in their own conversation.

Alabastra continues, "Short version is, they're a bunch of Families - that's family of the criminal variety, that didn't like each other much, but banded together to kneecap a bunch of other Families that they all liked even less."

That sounds as believable a story for these types as any. "And so when you said they were family, earlier, you didn't mean it in the sense of any kind of blood or bond?"

Her gait slows, hands in coat pockets, and shoulders hunched as she draws in a sharp breath. "Well..." Alabastra looks back at the three of us, negotiating in her head. "Let's... let's take some side paths." She darts around an alley corner, into a backstreet with a small stream of last night's rainwater still running down its center.

Alabastra is silent for longer than I'd expect her to be. She runs one gloved hand along the wall as she walks, wriggling her fingers against the masonry. Finally, she says, "It's... complicated. After... what went down with my folks, I was on the streets. The Lucentes", she turns back to me, "That's one of those families I mentioned - they took me in. Kept me fed, showed me the ropes. Crack a lock, pick a pocket, shoot a bow, stab a man. That sorta thing."

One of the only subjects Alabastra and I ever truly bonded over, if you could call it that and not 'didn't actively squabble over', was our alike childhoods. I spent far more time in orphanages, and was eventually adopted, while Alabastra did everything she could to stay out of the eye of any kind of institution, steadfast a street kid. But at the end of the day, we're both urchins who just as likely could have ended up in each other's spots.

Well, perhaps not quite. At least if Alabastra had been taken in by a real family, she wouldn't have ruined it like I had. Meanwhile, there's little chance these Lucentes would have given me the time of day. If anything, Alabastra made it here through her own determination, her unbreakable will. I don't need to ask what this criminal outfit saw in her; it's as blatant as the sunlight shining through her hair. I burnt up the only good luck I ever received and still lost it all.

I shake my head clear, before those memories can start again, refocusing on what thought led me here. Alabastra, right. I'd heard it from her before, in late-night chats on university roofs or walks through parks in which she'd ambushed me for conversation, that some people took her in and taught her the skillset she needed to survive. She was always vague, but... "I remember you telling me about this. How you weren't with the people who, er, instructed you anymore."

She looks over her shoulder with a curious lilt. "Surprised you remember that. But, yea, no longer affiliated. And thank fuck for that; they are... bad news. Greedy, murderous, shake your hand then stab ya in the back snakes with nice suits and no morals." As if my conscious needed more weight, now I'll have to bear that my worst thoughts of Alabastra were everything she seems to hate about her former associates.

Tegan speaks up, trotting up between Alabastra and the rest. "And that's why you left", she says.

"More or less. They sold me on a vision of who they were, and when I realized it was bullshit, I thought I could do it for real."

Admittedly, she does have me curious. I ask, "And that vision was...?"

"That they were secret altruists. Robbing from the rich to give back to the regular folk. Shoving all the shit they'd been fed back in Old Man Marble's face." She kicks a bottle down the alley, causing it to roll with a clink-clank-clunk. "Turns out they're just a bunch of power tripping assholes only in it for themselves. Whodathunk. If you're with 'em, you'll eat alright. But everyone else can take a hike."

"I'm surprised you believed them."

Alabastra turns to me, a brief flash of anger on her face, and my heart may as well stop. Then she turns back, relaxing. "I was just a kid. I wanted to believe that there were people like that. I needed to." I'm not the people-reader Alabastra is. But even I can tell the words she leaves on the table.

I turn to the other two. "I assume you've heard all this before?"

"In bits and pieces, yea", Tegan says.

Faylie adds, cheerful as ever, "I can't believe we're finally meeting your family, Allie!"

"I can't believe we're robbing them...", says the knight.

Alabastra chuckles, and looks down to Faylie. "They're not exactly the kind of family you take a girl home to, Lightning Bug."

A small croak of shock escapes me. Best I bring us back on topic before my ears catch fire. "And speaking of the ro-, the activity, this antique shop they own...?"

"The Syndicate owns all kinds of businesses all over the city. Fronts to launder their cash, make them seem legitimate. Some of 'em actually make them more than the crimes do. Most are just for show. I'd guess this trinket peddler's the latter."

"And, we're going there now to find out?"

She turns, genuinely confused. "Huh? I don't know where it is! I barely paid attention to the fronts when I was in, and that was almost a decade ago now!"

"Then... where are we going?"

"Post office." We round a corner, back onto the main streets. "Got a message to send."

* * *

The Andric V. Washel Republic of Anily Post Office is amongst my least favorite places in The Reds. Constantly busy, noisy, disorganized, full of obstinate citizens and vacuous employees; a long white brick building eating up an entire city block, with a tall clock tower up the center, practically a temple in dedication to... mail, of all things.

We enter the building to the expected flurry of motion and sound. Taking a ticket to mark our place in line, Alabastra shepherds us into a less noisy corner, claiming a black leather couch as she peddles her foot in anticipation.

The rest of us find a seat as well, and stay in silence for a moment. Beyond the waiting room we find ourselves in, an open corridor leads into the post office operations, mail rooms busy with postal workers ferrying packages, letters, and telegrams back and forth. In between, an iron-gated rounded office juts out of a separating wall, receptionists hearing the complaints of citizens, click-clacking on typewriters and teleprinters. Just past the separating wall, an occasional flash of purple magic flares behind the frosted glass; Circle Express mages out to teleport mail into especially busy hands at cost.

Alabastra holds her arms, not crossed in confidence, but gripping in self-comfort. "Vatrizia", She says aloud, unprompted. I tilt my head, mirrored by the others. "That's who I'm messaging. Vatrizia Lucente. We were thick as... well, thieves. Only person in that dumpster fire of a family that might give us an answer on our mystery shop."

There's her Maybes and Mights again. "And this... Vatrizia, you trust her?"

"Oh, absolutely not. There's a damn good chance I'm walking us into a trap."

Panic vaults into my throat. "Wh- Alabastra?!" I look around at the others, hoping to find some solidarity, but they keep relatively cool, Tegan at best only reassessing as if the news were a minor inconvenience. Faylie doesn't even register. "What if - we could just find this shop ourselves."

"You wanna check every antique store, pawn shop, and junk seller in the city until we find the one specific watch we're looking for? Needle in a haystack, except we barely even know what the needle looks like."

"Nathaniel found it. Why can't we?"

Alabastra sighs. "I'll say a lot about Nathaniel, but he's a damn good gumshoe, Moodie. And, he had legal contacts, prior knowledge, a client to pull him out of false leads, and it still probably took him a few days. We're a bunch of gutter thieves grasping at straws, and we don't have time to burn." She sits up straighter, pulling down on her coat. "We play the hand we're dealt."

We're silent for another moment, letting the sounds of the station blend and wash over us; a bored receptionist droning in apathy, an embattled client missing his mail, papers shoveling, buttons clicking, spells whooshing, bells tinkling.

Faylie looks up at Alabastra. "What's Vatrizia like, Allie?"

Alabastra chuckles, smiling down at the floor. "Y'kno... a little bit like you. And maybe a little bit like me. You'll see soon enough."

"Number 54!", the receptionist calls our ticket. We stand, sauntering to the desk.

As we approach, a different clerk, barely more than a teenager, says as I lag behind, "If you have separate business, I can see to you here, sir."

Gods, I hate that word. Far too officious, like I'm being seen as some well-adjusted gentleman. My lungs feel hard up for air. But, I may as well see to some things, since I'm here. The other three look back at me, curious. "Just a moment", I assure them. They turn to the woman that called them forth, and immediately begin to squabble. I turn to the postal worker. "Go ahead and check if I have anything in the post? Name is, um, Oscar Bromley." My own name always feels awkward coming out of my own lips. Like my mouth isn't shaped right for the words.

"Sure thing, Mr. Bromley, sir", he says. I'm starting to dislike this kid. He shifts a large book from under the counter, and draws an arcane sigil through the air, glowing light blue. "LEGERE CELERITAS." His eyes glow much the same color. The pages of the book turn over rapidly and without source as he holds a hand over the ledger.

After only a moment, he looks back to me, eyes returning to a dull brown. "Ah, yes, Mr. Bromley. We've been holding a letter for you, from a Mister-"

"No." He looks confused at me. I continue, "No, I-I know. I'd like you to keep holding it."

"We've... been holding it for six months now, Mr. Bromley."

My eyes roll. "I know. I paid the fines. Please keep holding it."

He chews the inside of his cheek. "Am I understanding correctly; you... want to continue paying the fee for us to hold it? Even though you're right here, and could collect it right now?" I nod. What's so hard to understand? He closes the book, with searching eyes and pursed lips. "It's... an increasing cost each time, Mr. Brom-"

"That's fine." I slip my checkbook out of my bag. "How much?" Gods I hate when they make this difficult.

I pay the fine about the same time Alabastra finishes up her own business, and we rejoin on the way to the door. She ducks her head down closer to mine, and says low, "What was that about?"

"Nothing important. Are we done here?"

Her eyes sharpen, and she turns away, frustrated. I watch her with intent. Don't... Don't break it now. She looks back up, nodding once. "Yea. Paid a 'porter to get the letter in her hands lickety-split." As she says that, a flash of purple energy and torrent of arcane wind heralds another teleportation spell from the back room. "We better get goin'."

Wonderful. The sooner this place is a distant memory, the better.

* * *

Alabastra picks open a locked door at the apex of a flight of stairs, and we arrive at our meeting spot. A rooftop garden, nestled atop a taller building at the eastern edge of The Reds. The seating area looks to not have been used in some time; unsurprising, if the 'NOT OPEN TO THE PUBLIC' sign we just barreled past is any indication. Gravel walkways crunch underfoot, and the plants and vines of the garden stretch up along the pillars of a metal gazebo. They look well-watered, if slightly overgrown. Planters filled with multicolored, thorny flowers alternate in files across the rooftop with untrimmed hedge bushes that no longer hold the statuesque shapes of their pasts.

Alabastra stretches, a roll to her shoulders. "Here we are." She slows as we continue, taking in the space, like the first look was just the warmup. "Wow. It's actually... been a while since I've been out this way. Getting nostalgic over here." There's a glint in her eye, glassy and star-filled, a smile that strikes sharply against her consternated brows.

"It's so pretty! Why have you never taken us here before?", Faylie says, linking an arm with Alabastra's and pulling. She gasps. "Is it cursed? Is it haunted? Is it cursed and haunted?"

"Is it condemned?", adds Tegan, kicking a broken plant pot I hadn't noticed before, exposing the rotting roots jutting out of the shattered bottom.

The blonde shakes her head, a mirthless chuckle leaving her. "Not in any of the literal ways, no. This was our usual spot. Me n' Blu- uh, Vatrizia..." The two look at Alabastra askance. "Lotta memories."

It's clear on every inch of her face; once again my own needs have subjected Alabastra to undue pain. Dammit. I'll have to find some means of repaying all of this, once it's done. Maybe I should run a tally, total the sins with an accountants eye, and balance the books. The last thing I want is to be indebted to these three, after all. Not that they would hold it over my head, mind; I'm fairly certain of that, now, at least. Just... that they deserve better. They are owed more than what I have put them through.

"How soon do you think she'll get here?", asks Faylie, sitting cross-legged on a concrete bench.

From the stairwell, a banging of steps on metal stairs clatters behind the door. A jingling sound, almost like bells, lies beneath as an undertone. Alabastra turns, saying over her shoulder, "Sooner than you'd think."

The door swings open. On the other side stands a young woman wearing a pinstripe navy suit, curly blue-black hair crinkling in wild waves, tied with a red ribbon toward her mid-back, and flattened at the top by a bone white fedora. Crimson lipstick paints overtop a sly smirk, as she spins a keyring around her finger. "Well, well, well, well." Her voice is nasally and sing-songy, and something about her demeanor seems... off. A chill of anxiety shoots up my spine. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"The cat, the law, a horse or two. Gravity, especially; I get dragged around a lot." Alabastra crosses her arms, returning the new woman's smile. "Hiya, Bluebelle."

"Al-uh-bastra Camin." Vatrizia moves further onto the roof garden, but stays a parallel with us. Circling. "I'm sayin' that right, right? Heh, 'right-right'. It's funny, cuz' with you, it should be more like... left-left!"

Alabastra matches her orbit, thinking a moment. "...Because I left. Clever. Not even 30 seconds and you're already guilt-tripping me, Blue." She coughs, seeming a hair nervous. "And, yea. Alabastra. Got it in one."

Vatrizia smiles, a nearly 90-degree tilt to her head. "Heard your finally got yourself all switched up. Good for you! And you're even cuter than you were before!"

"Don't I know it." She smirks, but it doesn't meet her eyes. Arms still crossed, she tip-taps on her bicep with two fingers.

"Mmm, but when you said 'come alone' in your message..." Her steel-grey eyes narrow toward the three of us. "Seems like that was rules for thee but not for me. For shame, Camin." A shot across the bow. Vatrizia stops in her tracks.

Alabastra does the same in nearly mirror time. She spreads her arms out in a wide shrug, and returns fire. "Bad manners, I know. Guess I picked 'em up from your family."

"Touché." If Vatrizia was bothered at all, I can't tell. There's something all-too clever about the way they talk to each other. Almost performative. "Well, introduce me to your friends, then!"

Faylie bounds forward, crossing whatever invisible boundary the other two had drawn. "Hi! I'm Faylie, Faylie Nevis! I love your hair!"

"Aw, thanks pumpkin, I-"

The faun cuts her off. "Are you planning on shooting us with that palm gun? Or is it just insurance?" The lilt in Faylie's voice never once leaves, and unlike the other two, her smile seems completely genuine. Meanwhile, my stomach feels like it's doing flips. "Nailing the makeup, by the way."

The gangster stares down at the faun, the grin faltering for a moment. Then she snickers. "Oh, I like this one, Alabastra." She turns back to Faylie. "Just insurance. A girl can never be too careful these days, y'know?" She rolls down her right sleeve, and sure enough, a small, single-shot pistol and spring apparatus is wrapped around her forearm. My blood runs freezing cold, and my breath picks up to compensate. I've never even seen a gun, a real one, in person, and this woman just flashed hers to us like it was nothing.

A clear message. Firearms are outlawed, and immensely difficult to obtain, even amongst those for whom laws are mere suggestions. Which means she is exceptionally well-connected, or at least wildly affluent. Even if they weren't illegal or mostly all destroyed, they'd also be largely out of style for the more adventurous or wild hunting types. A firearm's complexity makes it near-impossible to enchant, so against anything tougher than a basic monster or undead or with defenses against the mundane, one may as well be flinging rocks. Guns are great at killing only one thing, really: people. Nobody carries one unless they're ready to do just that; under that bubbly countenance lies the heart of a cold-blooded murderer.

Continuing on as if this situation didn't just radically shift, Alabastra says, "Bluebelle won't shoot us. She always was a sucker for a pretty face, and we've got four of 'em between us." Four? She must be including Vatrizia in that, I suppose. Though it doesn't make much sense. Her calm does bring my own unease to a lull, however; Alabastra would be able to tell if the gangster's claims of innocence were a lie.

"And speakin' of...", Vatrizia looks to Tegan. Her eyes also pass over me, but she must just mean collectively. The three of them.

"Uh, du, uhm, Tegan. I'm Tegan, that's me." The paladin points a thumb to her breastplate, complete with a nervous smile and a finger brush through her hair. "Nice to meeting you. I'm meeting you. Um." If Tegan had a hat, I think she'd be eating it.

Vatrizia laughs. "What's got a big tough knight like you actin' like a scared pup, hmm?" She walks closer, readjusting her sleeve back over her wrist. "Certainly not lil' ol' me." I'm wondering after that myself. Usually Tegan is fearless...

Tegan pleads with her eyes to the other two, swimming in panic. "Haha, uh? No, no, I'm not, uh." She continues to sputter, as a blush starts to spread over her cheeks. I narrow my eyes at her. "Totally normal!"

The gangster giggles, then turns to me. The others all lock with me as well, staring in smug silence. The moment stretches on until I can no longer bear it.

"What?", I say. I have absolutely no desire to talk to this woman.

Alabastra says, "And that's Moodie. Don't mind him, he doesn't like new people."

"Or uh, y'know, not-new people", says Tegan.

Faylie rounds out the trio. "Or any people!"

Vatrizia takes a step closer to me, boots crunching into the gravel. "Well, I'm not just any people." I take a step back. She smiles, and cranes back toward Alabastra. "Interestin' bunch. This is who you ditched me for, then?"

"I never ditched anyone." Alabastra's voice is matter-of-fact, without tells or frills. Like she's playing cards.

"I 'unno, I'm feelin' pretty ditched..."

Alabastra taps her foot, and her lips pull into a pained smile. "I'm not here to talk about the past, Blue."

"No, no, of course not. Who'd wanna talk about that." She practically spits her last word, looking deathly serious for a single moment before re-upping her sunny disposition.

The rogue stops, taking in the mobster for a while. Then, it's like a string snaps. She lets out a light laugh, the tension in her body released. "Oh, wow. You've changed, Blue!" She considers, waving her hands out in front of her like she's cleaning a window. "You're less... jittery. Got that 'I've killed a man' pep to your step. It's a good look." This is her less erratic? That's an unnerving thought.

"Yea, well, with you gone, I had to tough up." She weakly sticks out one arm and flexes a bicep, more theatric than braggadocious. Her voice lightens. "And you're one to talk. Don't even gotta say how much you changed, do I?"

"I'm... not as different as you might think, really." Alabastra squeezes one hand, staring into the fist she's curled. "If you look past the chassis, anyways."

With a small hup, Vatrizia pulls herself up to sit on a high wall at the edge of the rooftop, legs crossed and bouncing. "And what a chassis it is..." She leans forward, as Alabastra's shoulder drop. "But, I 'unno... you don't seem as... fun."

Alabastra chuckles. "Aw, now that's no fair. I'm plenty fun still, we're just... on a time crunch. Get me drunk and I'll show ya."

Vatrizia hums a little ditty, perhaps involuntarily. "I guess we'll have plenty of time to test that out." My own questioning look is matched by the others. "Are these three tagalongs, or just here for the moral support?"

"I... don't follow."

"I been waitin' for this day a long time, y'know. So... quit actin' all coy."

"What're you..." Alabastra stops, looking like she's just been slapped. "Wait... you don't think I'm... coming back, do you?"

Slow and painful realization drapes Vatrizia. Her tongue clicks, and she hangs her head. "Oh."

Alabastra groans, like a pet owner scolding a bad dog. "Blue. You thought I called you here in the middle of the day to beg to be let back into a family that I left on no uncertain terms? I'm alotta things, but I haven't lost my pride."

Vatrizia uncrosses her legs and hops down from the wall. Her stance drops her previous lackadaisy, and instead pulls into a stiff-backed defensive form. "Y'know, when the day finally came, I figured you'd be alone, all sad and navel-gazin'. Finally lost it all. 'Stead... you're happier than ever. Without me..." She crosses her arms, looking away, toward the skyline of the inner city, chewing her bottom lip. "Maybe I shoulda seen it comin'..."

"No reason to put it like that."

Vatrizia's face is harsh and calculating as she looks back at the four of us. "Fine, then. If ya ain't here to make good decisions... What's all the hubbub?"

I look between the women, feeling for a violent pulse. Surely Vatrizia doesn't believe she could overpower all three of them, but... is she capable of reaching a state of mind where she's willing to try? She's clearly unpredictable, potentially dangerous, yet Alabastra is calm water. I itch to get out of Vatrizia's line of sight, but don't know if I should move too much. What even is the etiquette for these kinds of meetings, anyways?

"We need some info, Blue."

Vatrizia lets out an acerbic laugh. "Of course. Everyone always needs somethin'..."

"Y'know I wouldn't be asking if it weren't important."

Tegan speaks up, "We're looking for an antique store. It's uh, owned by The Iron Syndicate? And it would deal in magic items. I think that's pretty much all we know. Oh, and, probably in the cliff downs?"

Vatrizia upturns her nose. "Who says we own anything like that? And who says I'd know if we did?"

Putting her hands on her hips, Alabastra chuckles. "I do. You just gave yourself away, Bluebelle." The half-elf taps her temple.

The gangster pouts, like a child. "Hmph. Can't believe I forgot about that little trick of yours. It's gonna bite you someday, Alabastra."

"It can get in line."

A crack under her armor of confidence, Vatrizia throws up her hands. "Fine, sure, I know your shop", she says, sounding as annoyed with Alabastra as I often feel. At least now I know that she's always been this way. Not that her propensity for chicanery was ever in doubt. "But bad manners or no, we never taught you to demand no one-sided deal. Tell me why you wanna know, first."

"Honest to Runo, nothin' to do with the Families. We were followin' a lead; it happened to mention that something we wanted to look into would be in a store under Syndicate control. You were just our quickest way of finding out which."

For a moment, I am honestly surprised how much Alabastra divulged, until I think on how little she said with so many words. The tiny, almost imperceptible lies woven into her statement... Nothing she said was false, just a burying of true intent. I now know better to look for it, and it still nearly slipped me by.

"That so..." Vatrizia put her non-gun-strapped hand to her chin. "Well... maybe I'd be willin' to tell you. But what's in it for me?"

"What do you want?"

She hmmms

for a long moment. "I'd ask for cash, but I know better; if you really haven't changed, your prob'ly hard up for it right now, huh?" Alabastra seems like she's about to say something, but then thinks better of it. Vatrizia continues, "I want... a favor."

Well, there's no way she'll-

"Done." That easily? Tegan seems to share my incredulity, both of us drilling stares into Alabastra.

The gangster smiles wide. "A favor from Alabastra Camin..." She walks closer; the closest she's gotten to Alabastra all this time. "Maybe I'll cash it in as a date. Always said you'd make a real dish, didn't I?"

That seems... rather forward. Was there some subtext I was missing, here?

"That you did..." Alabastra smiles fondly. "I'm taken."

I sputter. So, then, Faylie and her really are... But then, why was she... I mentally slap myself. The love life of Alabastra Camin could not matter less to me. Why am I even still thinking about it?

"No room for one more?", Vatrizia says.

"You'd be surprised...", Alabastra responds. The sheer inanity of this conversation is baffling. "But, I can tell you're not serious." Of course. They are all joking. I shake my head, sick to the back teeth; none of this has anything to do with our goals here.

Vatrizia stares for a moment longer, locked gaze with Alabastra's. "We could play pretend for a while... Give ya' a lil' time." She walks right up to the rogue, and slowly draws a finger down the length of her jaw. "Let you remember just how much you missed this. Missed us. C'mon, Allie. Doesn't that sound fun?"

Maybe it's sheerly my frustrations coming to a head, or maybe I've deliberately walked into some laid trap, but I've had enough. Before I have the good sense to stop myself, I say with a barbed tongue, "Would you get to the point?!" Tegan and Faylie look to me with a start. Alabastra stays stock still, continuing to stare down the gangster.

The sharp eyes of Vatrizia focus in on me, she sneers sour with her red painted lips, and for a moment I wonder if I've signed my death warrant. I look away from her face, watching her hands instead. My heart slows to a single beat, and the moment crawls forward in cold, dripping, and viscous time.

Then she turns on one heel. "You're lookin' for Tinker Tack Antiques and Oddities, on 47th and Park." With her back turned, I take the opportunity to let loose a gasp of relief. She returns to her side of the roof, and pivots around. "We, that's Lucentes we, don't own it; it's Cozzos' turf."

Alabastra puts one hand to her chin. "Cozzos... Ma Cozzo still run that outfit?" I assume these Cozzos are a different family in this Syndicate, then. At least we're marginally less likely to continue running into ghosts of Alabastra's past this way.

"The old bat's alive and kickin'. I only swung out that way once or twice, but it's a real drag. Ma Cozzo ain't any fun, how she runs the new joints."

"The new joints? How much have you expanded?"

Vatrizia flashes a mischievous grin. "Oh, we're all over the shop, and gettin' bigger. Somethin's bubblin' under the surface. I'm sure you felt it same as us. We're ridin' that wave right to the top." Something's bubbling under the surface... Does she know about our current predicament? Or does she mean something else?

Alabastra seems as curious as I. "Don't gotta dance with me, Bluebelle. Spill it."

"It's family business..." She narrows her eyes. "Which it means it could still be your business..."

"Not happening."

The suited woman doesn't seem to hear her. "You'd be gettin' in on the ground with us; we got big plans. It wouldn't be like it was before. You could even bring your little friends." She turns to me. "Even the wet blanket."

With crossed arms, Alabastra delivers a cold and precise, "Get it through your head, Bluebelle. I am never going back."

Her eyes dart around, not the manner of one contending with a harsh reality, but of something undivulged. "They're still convinced you're gonna come home with your tail tucked between your legs one of these days. That that's why you ain't never sung to the law, why you stayed in our shadow, never hit our boys directly; you were keepin' a door open."

"Your family should-"

She cuts Alabastra off. "It's the only reason they ain't killed you yet." For a moment, the roof garden becomes as silent as before we arrived, not a move, not even a breathe. Alabastra grinds her teeth. Vatrizia stands at the door to the stairwell. "So don't go doin' somethin' that'll convince 'em otherwise."

Alabastra takes the even-keeled approach. "I'm a big girl; I'll be careful."

"I'm sure you will." Vatrizia's eyes carry weight, nostalgia, and I still can't tell if those feelings are for show. But I suppose all that matters is that her target audience can. "Don't be a stranger, hey?"

"Maybe soon we can catch up for real, Blue."

Vatrizia's eyes light up. She throws open the door. "Take care of yourself, Allie." She turns to the rest of us. "And you better take care of her, too."

Tegan stumbles over her words, a garbled train crash between 'Wouldn't dream of not', and 'You can count on that' that comes out as, "You can dream on that." She winces, and smacks herself in the forehead.

Faylie bounds forward, arms bent behind her back. "It was nice meeting you; thanks for not shooting us!"

The gangster nods once. "Ciao." She slips behind the heavy metal door, and her footsteps disappear down the stairs.

Once it becomes clear she's well and truly disappeared, Alabastra kicks at the gravel path. A groan of frustration rips through her mouth, and she rubs at the back of her neck in a seething-soothing gesture.

Placing a hand on Alabastra's sleeve, Faylie says, "Allie? Are you okay?"

"Yea." Alabastra closes her eyes. "Maybe. Fuck, I'm not sure."

Tegan walks over as well, wrapping an arm around Alabastra. "Wanna talk about it?"

Alabastra smiles soft, looking between the two women. "Maybe once we're outta here." Then a startled look passes over her, and she says in my direction, "Moodie. Thanks."

I raise a brow. "For what?"

"Interrupting her."

Oh. I thought I'd committed a faux pas, there. "...Why?"

She rolls her eyes. "Just take the gratitude."

"Okay... You're... welcome?"

"Ask me later." A mirthless smile crosses her face. "That's family for you, huh? What a joke."

Faylie says, "I think I wanted to like her a lot more than I actually do. Um, no offense, Allie."

"None taken, Glowbug. That's just how it goes between Blue n' me." Alabastra wraps her arms around the two other women. "It's why I'm glad you were here."

To be honest, I'm glad Tegan and Faylie were here, too. I can't imagine this would've been easy for Alabastra without them. Especially since Faylie and her... No, stop, it still does not matter. "Can we trust her information?", I ask.

Alabastra nods. "She was on the up and up. Well, about that, at least." She stands a little straighter, dusting off her coat. "Tinker Tack Antiques. Park street isn't too far from our place."

"I swear I passed that place before", says Faylie, "I was gonna go in once, but my bag was full."

"Then it sounds like-", I begin.

"Of sand."

I can't not know. "... Why did you have sand in your bag?", I ask in total monotone.

"Well, at first I needed it for the terrarium." I stare stone-faced down at her. She continues, "I wanted to raise lizards. But then we got evicted and our next flat didn't allow pets, so I had to return the sand to the sand guy. But then he wouldn't give me a refund so I went to go dump it on our old landlord's doorstep. And by the time all that was done I'd totally forgotten about the Tinker shop."

Tegan looks quizzical. "Is that why we didn't get our deposit back for that place?"

I can't even act surprised at Faylie's bizarre stories anymore. I turn to Tegan, curious about something else. "Tegan, why were you so nervous during that conversation?"

Her face turns a light pink. "Uh... can we not talk about that?"

Alabastra gasps loudly. "Stardust!" She sounds genuinely scandalized. I am clearly missing something here.

"Nope. Not gonna." She swings her arms out. "We are never speaking of this again."

The blonde laughs, putting a hand on Tegan's pauldron. Then she looks down at Faylie. "And how'd you notice the gun, Bug?"

The faun says, "Well, she just kinda seemed like the type that would have one? So I looked over her person, and, yep, there it was!" She assumed Vatrizia had the gun before she saw it...?

I speak up again. "And, that favor you now owe her?"

Alabastra's face hardens for a moment. She looks away. "What about it?"

Faylie taps her fingers together. "What if she... asks you to do something bad?"

She turns back to the faun, and suddenly pulls her in for a side-hug. "I'd tell her to take a hike. And she knows it. Blue won't ask me to do anything I wouldn't do anyways."

Somehow I doubt it will be that simple. But that's not my concern, I guess. "We should keep moving, right?", I say.

Alabastra nods. "Yea. Let's dust this place." We leave the garden while there's still daylight to burn. I can only hope we haven't come this far for nothing.