Scene #4986: Rosin Up Your Bow

Owner	Pose
William Pauwel	A little over a week ago, Will made the dubious decision of trekking through a monster-infested marsh all on his own. He compounded this mistake by not stopping to ask why the little navigational waypoint he had been following was actively moving away from him. And then he got attacked by basically the entire swamp, then exploded. This has not been the best month to be William Pauwel. On the bright side, Milly managed to negotiate a ceasefire AND arrange a meeting between the Watch and the mysterious, mythical Fiddler in Green. He had ostensibly requested a meeting on neutral territory, which apparently means 'a swampy tavern in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.' There's no pomp or circumstance here; just a message that somehow found its way to Milly's front door and a location. 'Bumfuck nowhere' is maybe a bit of a harsh term, but this inn has definitely seen better days. One of Iskandria's elevated highways soars immediately overhead, neatly bisecting the small, rural road to nowhere in particular that feeds a trickle of traffic into the establishment. Not that this is the only building in the area but the wooden, ramshackle thing IS the only one still illuminated. Everything else seems abandoned. This was likely a failed frontier settlement, and now only serves the occasional overnight traveller and the somewhat more frequent bands of brigands and ruffians that lurk in the swamp. Will is here, of course, and has already made his way into the dingy, dimly lit building. He looks... not /profoundly/ uncomfortable- he's been in worse, apparently- but he certainly seems a little on edge. It's understandable, given the looks pretty much everyone at the bar tosses the outsiders. There is a non-zero chance that one of these guys might try to mug them later. Their host is apparently already at a table-- a large, round one in a secluded corner of the building behind a sliding door. He seems to be unarmed. "The old man's ready for ya," says the distinctly one-eyed barkeep, "Play nice now. You break it, you buy it." Well. That's how these things are.
Millium Argent	Ah, joy. A message that somehow got to her residence, marking the location of this meeting. ....WAIT, HOW DID THEY GET HER ADDRESS? Nevermind that. Millium relayed the message to Will, and surely he did the same to the others, and after many minor and inconsequential happenings, Millium and Claire are at this shady bar with Will. The blonde girl is smiling nervously at all of these stares they're getting. Claire is about as stonefaced as usual. Whatever. Another happening in the days of her life. Can we get to the important part? Yeah. Millium has SERAPH turned off, naturally. No weapons right? It's technically true! ...Technically! She looks totally unarmed and she plans to not start a fight anyway! Claire never seems to be armed anyway, unless you count that laptop. Information is power? ... Maybe. Whatever. They're here! It's Millium that speaks up. "W-We won't break anything!" Pause. "...I think." She adds in a low mumble.
Mel Brock	To be fair, even 'bumfuck nowhere' is not difficult for Mel Brock to pull off, thanks to her ability to fly a spacecar. She at least has the grace to not show up wearing her Marshal jumpsuit and longcoat, but the color scheme is similar, at least, in that she has on a dark blue sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of slightly baggy jeans, and of course her limiter as well. She does have one special thing in her pocket, but it's for the next few minutes, not now. She gives the bartender a small nod, and heads on back. THOSE WHO GOT A RIDE WITH MEL (assumption: Yuna, Celes, August): The Firestarter-C is essentially a large, comfy flying car. Relatively spacious cabin, bucket seats with proper harnesses, full environmental control. Going from the comfortable cool of the Chaser to the muggy heat of the swamp is probably unpleasant.
Celes Chere	This time, Celes intends not to set anything on fire and, therefore, not cause incidents related to fire. It'll be great, and make up for said incidents relating to fire. Glad to see they've been called to an inn, not back to the swamp, the former general, obviously pinning to make it up to William for the now twice mentioned fire-related incidents, had agreed to meet the Fiddler in Green and lend her modest diplomatic skills to the task. She'd not had time to ask every question she wanted about Will's world, sadly, but she'll do her best to pick up and learn quickly. She steps off the ship Mel had so graciously brought along for all of them, wearing the usual. Save the Queen, not Excalibur, is sheathed to her side, but the blonde woman hopes not to need it. She's never without a sword, though. Part of how she grew up. Can't help it. Before they all go in, being told the Fiddler is already inside, she turns to the others to ask the obvious. "Anything we should know before we meet him that hasn't been mentioned so far?"
Yuna Kagurazaka	Being able to hitch a ride was a huge benefit for Yuna; Elner is tagging along anyway, just in case things hit the proverbial fan (and Yuna is hoping the tavern will have a not-so-proverbial fan, as well as hoping that nothing hits it). She also seemed suitably appreciative of Mel's sweet ride, even if she didn't describe it in exactly those terms. In response to Celes's question, though, Yuna just shrugs and says, "I may not be local enough to know, but I'm guessing 'don't start any violence' is good advice generally. This Fiddler is the guy who was turning the swamp hostile against perceived intruders, right ... ?" She looks questioningly at Millium, who was the one to actually TALK to the Fiddler.
August Kohler	As usual, August is here, riding aboard the Chaser. Due to the rule of 'no weapons', he has a small mirrored bracelet on, bought from a dollar store. It's crap and flimsy, but the mirror works for his purposes. He's entirely silent during the ride, and once they park, he quietly gets out and begins surveying the area. Checking out the inn, how many people are outside it, and if they're armed. Once he's done so, he turns towards the others. "I do think our priority is that gun piece over all, though. We should avoid violence /if possible/, but if we can't come to an agreement, we need to get it one way or another." August's voice is almost whispers, hoping that no one can overhera him. "Well, Will. Do we have any other plan?"
William Pauwel	Well Milly, that will tend to happen when you're a famous celebrity who has a permanent address. You will have groupies, and those groupies may or may not be creepers who know where you live, and those creepers may or may not be shaken down on occasion by scary swamp bandits to figure out where to leave their letters. Or maybe the bandits are fans. One of the two. "Uhhh, after a fashion," Will asides to August. "Iff'n we can't make an agreement, uh. Well, I still know where they're keeping it, so... I guess worst case we steal it?" He says this very, very quietly, because who even knows who's listening at this point. Celes' question is also quite valid and deserves a bit of thought. "I think we should be careful, he probably ain't alone. Feller like this probably has people throughout the entire bar." Even if he was nice enough to stop shooting once Milly explained that they weren't actually here for the bounty on his head. Can't be too careful with these things. Once the pre-meeting huddle finishes, Will makes his way into the round-tabled room and politely plucks the hat from his head. "Uh, Mister Fiddler?" Will asks, "We haven't met yet. I'm Will Pauwel. You know, the one who--" YOU TRIED TO HAVE EATEN BY HORRIBLE SWAMP SNAKES, "--was after that part you had?" The Fiddler peers at the boy in the doorframe over a fancy old mahogany pipe. The room smells of marsh reed and tobacco. "Yes, I was expecting you and your posse here. You're all punctual, good. Come in, sit down, have a glass-- I brought liquor." It's... brandy? The bottle looks new. There's a strong likelihood that he liberated it from someone passing through the marsh recently. "Now that we've a chance to meet like civilized folk, allow me to introduce myself. Folks around here call me the Fiddler, on account of the tool of my trade," he doesn't seem to have brought it along with him today, though. "But you all can call me Anders." "You'll understand that that business in the swamp weren't exactly the kind of thing I do lightly, but when I've got someone chasing after me, sometimes I need to make tough calls." he says, then. "But far as I care, that's water under the bridge. What I hear is that you're in the market for something of mine. Now, I figure I have an idea--" he drawls and fishes a big old lockbox out from near his feet and sets it, clattering, onto the table. "--Of what it is you're looking for." "T'won't come cheap, though."
Millium Argent	Once the pre-game huddle finishes, everyone files in and Millium and Claire have theirselves seats at the table. Millium waves cheerfully after setting a small box onto the table, "Hiiii Mr Fiddler!" She greets, and then pushes it forward. "I brought you those cookies!" Claire rolls her eyes, but keeps silent about her charge's banter. ...She may or may not have made them. Really. Regardless of that, she's already got her computer set into the table, typing in information. Such as the fact that this Fiddler actually has a name. Anders, huh? Interesting. Once she finishes typing in everything pertinent, she glances off at the man and his lockbox. "I'm certain Pauwel was well aware that this wouldn't be free or cheap." The guild operator tucks a bang behind her ear and speaks on. "So then the question is; what exactly is your price?" Paue. "Assuming that it is indeed the thing that he's is looking for in the first place." She crosses her arms. "So surely, you wouldn't mind opening it up for us to verify, would you?"
Mel Brock	There's a moment where August suggests potentially getting physical, and Will says the words 'steal it'. Oh boy, does Mel give them a Look. But there will be time for chastizing later. For now, it's time for the meeting. "If there's trouble, stay close," the officer says softly. "I don't need guns to be the most dangerous person in here." That's all they're getting from her. She walks with her hands pointedly /not/ in her pockets. "It's perfectly understandable around here," she replies to Anders, nodding her head faintly. "I'm not even /from/ Tellus and I've had more things try to kill and-or eat me here than I can count." Mel shakes her head, with a little chuckle. "But yeah, that's not important now. Alright, so let's get one thing on the table." She reaches down into her pocket, making it a slow and deliberate motion so that no one thinks she's pulling a weapon. It's her Paladins badge; she sets it down and activates the built-in hologram. "Marshal Mel Brock, Commonwealth Paladins. Yes, I am law enforcement. No, I am /not/ here to arrest or even investigate anyone." She reaches out and drags up a seat by hand, sliding into it. "If you're willing to accept my good faith, I'd like to act as a mediator here. Make sure both sides come away from this satisfied, or at least equally dissatisfied."
Celes Chere	"Let's hope it doesn't get to that," Celes answers William, at the idea they might just need to steal the part. She came to, hopefully, help make that not happen! She seats herself, so as to not make the Fiddler uncomfortable his offer is being declined, and she even gives the bottle a look, out of curiosity. She's no heavy drinker (or light, even) but now and again has had the the opportunity to. Mostly banquets. Held over dead bodies. In retrospect, not the best of occasions. Plus she was always sitting across a clown at the table. Just her luck. All that talk about coming unarmed and she awkwardly looks down at the sword she hauled along. Everything screamed not to listen, so she can't blame August. Come unarmed is never good news. It's one-sided trust. 'I don't trust you so show me you trust me first by not bringing a way to defend yourself.' "Celes Chere. No station or title, sorry. I wanted to apologize for killing so many of your... pets? Were they pets, or just wildlife you control? Either way, it was probably avoidable." She has nothing else to say! Because everyone else is so damn on point. She wonders what makes this gun part so important.
Yuna Kagurazaka	Yuna can't help wrinkling her nose when she steps into the tavern and the smell of tobacco assaults her olfactory nerves. Also marsh reed, which isn't exactly pleasant but is - in Yuna's wholly-biased opinion - preferable to tobacco smoke, at the very least. And Anders is offering what looks like brandy. Yuna lingers next to the door, trying to suppress the impulse to simply facepalm at August's remarks on the Chaser frequency; as much as she appreciates the gesture of hospitality by Anders, Yuna knows her limits, and they're embarassingly short. (As August could attest ... if there hadn't been a tacit vow of silence about that party.) "Yuna Kagurazaka," she introduces herself briefly, offering a little wave to Anders. She's still next to the door, and doesn't look like she's getting any closer to the table if she has a choice in the matter.
August Kohler	Mel gives Will and August a look. August notices the look and just pokerfaces, continuing onwards into the bar. Once they're inside, he stands next to Will, keeping the hand with the bracelet under his chin. He does not look like an imposing bodyguard, because he's not tall nor bulky, but that's sort of the facial expression he's giving off. Once the Fiddler asks them to sit, August waits to see if Will sits, if he does, he joins him, otherwise August keeps standing. "August Kohler. Do you want money, or a favor?" Or maybe there's some sort of third choice, but August can't think of it. He also rejects the alcohol, because he'd rather keep his wits about him right now.
William Pauwel	"Little lady," he glances over at Yuna, "Iff'n a gentleman offers his hospitality, it ain't polite to turn it down. Please, have a seat." A command? An offer? Or... Well, it seemed genial enough. August you are kind of the opposite of intimidating, being both a teenager and also a ginger. But at least you're trying. You're TRYING and that's better than a lot of the bodyguards that Will could afford would do. Anders, at least, looks more wary for his appearance. Or... or maybe it's that Celes has a sword. Or that Mel is a /space cop./ "Much as the authorities would have you believe, I have plenty of respect for law enforcement. Long as everything's on the up and up, you and I will have no trouble, Marshal. 'Course, I haven't heard much of yer Paladins. You all some kind of... international police? Have gun, will travel?" He takes a swig of amber booze. If it burns, he doesn't show it. "Either way, I won't protest." His gaze drifts over toward Milly, then. Milly and her... Her box of cookies? The Fiddler seems to actually be caught off guard a little bit. "Huh. Would you look at that," he mumbles, reaching over to fish out a cookie. Even HARDENED BANDITOS like free cookies, apparently. "Thanks plenty, little lady. I'm sure the boys'll appreciate it." He seems almost... Grandfatherly for a second there? Weird. It passes quickly. People have questions! Celes has hers answered first. "After a fashion, I suppose. You could say I've an affinity for this here swamp-- a dialogue. Iff'n I ask it nice, sometimes it answers nice," he shrugs slightly, then. "Don't worry about them none. By next summer, there'll be new serpents in these waters. No harm, no foul." Claire and August both get to the heart of matters. Business. The old man bobs his head slightly and slides his box across the table, "Certainly. Have a look inside, I've a feeling it's what you're looking for." The box is simple in design, and made of a heavy, dark-grey metal. Probably lead. Opening the clasp is trivial. What's inside, wrapped in a package of parchment seems to be... It looks like a power cell or capacitor of some kind, Claire could tell that much. Every so often it pulses with a familiar light. "Me and some old friends of mine picked that one up a while back," he explains. "Figured someone'd show up looking for it, someday." He reaches over once she's done inspecting the goods and snaps it shut. "Now, 'fore I give you my price, why don't y'all explain just what's so important about an old little hunk of junk like this?" Will squirms slightly in his seat. "Ah, well, y'see sir," he says, hesitating between pauses. "It's... got sentimental value, I s'pose? I've been looking everywhere for parts to my granddad's gun. Y'see, it's all I've got of my pa, so one way or another I want to put it back together. So--" "All this for 'sentimental value?'" Anders cuts in, his gaze hot, but inquisitive, "You go all the way into the middle of a war zone, into these marshes, just for 'sentimental value?'" Will pales slightly and seems to shrink a bit in his chair. "It's-- I'm kind've hoping to find clues as to where he went too?" The old man keeps staring. "And I've got reason to believe that it's somethin' special and look one way or another y'all got what I want so can't we just talk about that instead of this?" Anders heaves a heavy sigh, then. "Alright, well. Sentiment and business are different things. But at least I can respect family. So let me explain this straight-like," he says to the group. "I can't spend money and goods go bad faster than anything out here. What I want is simple." He gestures vaguely upward, "I want you all to help me make life a little more difficult for the ones who put this price on my head. There'll be a supply convoy moving past this here stretch of highway for the front lines in about a week's time, and I'd like some insurance that it never gets there." "Do that, and I'll give you what you want."
Yuna Kagurazaka	Yuna inclines her head briefly, and walks over to have a seat at the table. No, she is not breathing more shallowly than usual. It's your imagination, you're projecting your own paranoia about this guy and the whole situation. "I'd just as soon not drink," she says apologetically, inclining her head to Anders. "I don't do well with alcohol." She listens quietly as Anders lays out what he wants the group to do. Just stop a supply convoy ... ? It sounds simple enough. (Which probably means it WON'T be, but she can hope.) "I can think of a few ways we could do that," Yuna muses. And if it means inconvincing the Iskandrian army? Well, Yuna has no problems at all with that part of the proposition.
Mel Brock	"Not quite 'international'," Mel replies. "Little more broad-spectrum than even that." She turns to Will, eyebrow arched slightly. Knowledge of the Multiverse seems sparse around here. She even said 'not from Tellus'. But for the time being, the Marshal sits back and listens, arms folded. "For what it's worth." she offers, "You'll probably be better off without that thing anyway. The number of creatures, people and ancient weapons that have tried to kill us while we looked for parts and clues, the only thing keeping me around at this point is I've kinda taken a shine to the kid. But," she adds, stopping to look Will's way for a moment, "That seems like about as fair an offer as we could hope for, assuming one thing." She lifts a finger. "For clarification. Who owns the convoy? Is it Iskandrian, or...?"
August Kohler	August takes a look at the object in the box from afar, glancing at the pulsing light. Yeah, that's definitely a Solano part, or a /very/ convincing replica. The redhead then sits back in his chair, listening to what they have to do to get the part. It's a favor, basically. Steal from the military, a military atleast. August thinks on it. It shouldn't be too hard, he tells the others on the radio. Mel speaks up, though, and August gives her a quizzical stare. "While I'm curious who it is as well, I'm not sure if that changes the offer much. Just how we prep for it, seeing as it seems everyone has a different style to war. Specify for me, Anders. Do we have to /kill/ the soldiers, or just stop their supplies from making it? I assume the latter, but clarification is good."
Celes Chere	Celes nods at the explanations given. So a monster controller. Weird, but at least those weren't someone's pets. Much less heavy on the conscience. Monsters, she can handle killing by the dozen without worrying about. And now she knows why Will wants the parts of a gun so badly, too! She's about to ask who the convoy is for, when the question is already on the table. What she recalls of Will's explanations, what few she overheard, Iskandria reminds her a bit too much about an empire back home, and she'd have no qualms putting a stick in their bike's wheel. "What sorts of supplies are on that convoy? And are you looking for the contents of the convoy, or just that it doesn't make it to its intended destination?" If it's food and medical supplies, she's sure they can find a good use for them if the Fiddler doesn't want them.
Millium Argent	Millium smiles sweetly at the acceptance of Claire's cookies. The operator in question really doesn't seem to care. She keeps her mouth shut, and instead, inspects the power cell when the box is slid over. ...Yep, that looks like it. She nods in satisfaction at her inspection and lets Anders take it back, settling back down to listen and watch once again. This time as Will explains. ...Or fails to explain, really. Neither girls say anything though. Millium is too busy teetering in her seat, looking this way and that curiously. Claire's red eyes are squarely on the exchange. Something about stopping a convoy from reaching its destination? Suddenly Millium is paying attention. "...We just have to stop it from reaching it's destination right? We can just take the goods or something, right? Or re-direct the convoy elsewhere?" She really hopes it's not 'kill people'. Really really. Claire remains quiet, as the others are asking the pertinent questions. She just records all of this, typing into her laptop quickly.
William Pauwel	"It is indeed Iskandrian," the old bandit answers. "Who else could it belong to? This is Iskandria, after all." It does seem like a silly question, but then, it's definitely one that deserved to be asked. "Specifically, it belongs to the Engineering Corps. I'm told that it's carrying some strange new weapon to be tested on the front lines, but I've heard tale of that for months, now." He puffs a couple more times on his pipe, obscuring the ceiling behind yet more smoke. "If it IS a new weapon, we'll probably need to figure out what to do with it once we see it, but if this convoy is heading to the front, it's probably going to be carrying something useful regardless. All I need is a twenty percent cut of whatever sundries and supplies you find, and the rest is yours to do with what you will." He glances up at the questions about 'killing everyone,' and he shrugs. "Most of those boys and girls, I don't have no quarrel with. They mostly don't know any better. Keep them alive if you can. Any officers, though, you bring to me. Preferably alive." "Ordinarily," he says, then, "I'd stick to causing trouble on the low roads, but I've heard some rumors about some... fancy new alliance the Empire's found itself in. This is somethin' miss Paladin over there would probably be interested in, in fact." "Y'all heard of something called the League of Progress?"
Mel Brock	Mel goes stiff for a moment. Then lets out a soft breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I have," Mel replies. She uncrosses her arms, sitting forward just a little, and holds up a pair of fingers. "So two things. One," she switches to holding up a single finger, "That is some important info I'm going to have to take to my superiors, so thank you. I'll take it as good faith on your part. And two," she holds up the second finger again, "Either you're just smart enough to know trouble when you smell it, or you're a little more aware of the Multiverse than you were letting on. If this weapon involves any tech from outside Tellus, my office as a Paladin means I can't let it stay here. I'd have to confiscate it. Or theoretically destroy it, I guess, but the former's preferable." She turns to Will and Kohler, and adds, "Plus side, it's a solid hook for me to join this little guerilla action. I have to investigate that. Duty as an officer of the law, all that good stuff."
Yuna Kagurazaka	Yuna relaxes a little as Anders confirm it's an Iskandrian bounty - and an Iskandrian military supply convoy that they're being asked to throw the brakes on. Whatever this 'new weapon' is, it's cause for worry all by itself. Whether or not this 'League of Progress' is part of it. The name is enough to make Yuna raise her eyebrows, though, and she leans forward a little, looking far more attentive.
Millium Argent	"................" Millium tilts her head. "The Leek of Potluck?" Are they like... an army of super talented chefs traveling the world, spreading their insidious deliciousness across the country, making everyone addicted one spoonful at a ti-" THWAP! "-OW!" "Shut up, Argent." Claire speaks evenly, going back to her typing. "Hmn. So they're gathering allies from off-world as well. Interesting." She mumbles, adding this in to the report. The guild is going to love hearing about this one. That's for sure.
August Kohler	August listens to the new information. He scrunches his face. He's heard a bit about the League, seen the ad. If they're working with Iskandria, Iskandria probably has some dangerous people on their side now. "So, capture officers, otherwise spare everyone else? Seems reasonable. I can agree to that, if," August turns to Will, gesturing a hand. "If he can. What do you think, Will?"
Celes Chere	So it's a jerk military convoy AND is probably some new weapon that'll be used to do very nasty things. There is no longer any reason to be concerned, unless they're being lied to. A side-glance towards Mel, though. "I should think the locals would have the right to inspect the weapon before you take it anywhere. They'll need to know what they're about to be dealing with. How to prepare against it. It's doubtful this weapon is unique. A small no-name convoy carrying a high-value, unique weapon? Unlikely. That means they're already confident enough to send them to their fronts without fanfare. It warrants more investigation than dropping in and taking it away." Celes hopes she is wrong, but they should be ready for the worst.
Mel Brock	"Or they're trying to sneak it out there without calling attention to it," Mel replies to Celes evenly... then sighs. "But yeah, you're probably right. I can allow for that much, at least. And that's assuming there /is/ any offworld tech in there, which is still a great big question mark for now."
William Pauwel	"I'm just an old man with a grudge," Anders answers Mel with a soft chuckle and a gentle scrubbing of his beard. "I'm a little too old to be travelling too far anymore. These joints aren't what they used to be, you see-- but that doesn't means I don't keep my ear to the ground." He reaches over a pours another glass of amber ambrosia over a trio of shrinking icecubes. "Of course, if you asked me what to do with it, I'd like the opportunity to commandeer whatever they've brought with them, but I'll leave that to your discretion." "Now, if you're looking for a band of mysterious gourmets," Anders smirks over at Milly, Bringer of Cookies. "Well, I'd have to charge you extra." Will looks more than a little bit lost in thought for a moment there. He seems... concerned about something. Probably about 'what happens if this whole thing falls through.' But August's question and Mel's aside snap him out of it. "Yeah, that... sounds fine to me. Nobody needs to get hurt, and we all get what we need, right?" "...And if the Marshal finds somethin' she takes issue with, then we'd have all done our good deed for the day, right?" He adds, a little bit sheepishly.
Millium Argent	".............." Millium stops rubbing her head and leans over the table, staring at Anders, "There's actually a troupe of mysterious gourmets!? Name your price, I'm on it!" THWAP! "-OW!" Claire's hand is smoking now from the speed at which she struck the idiot right upside her stupid head. "Business now. Other things later." She growls under her breath. "You're ruining the flow of information." "But Claaaaaaire! Band of Mysterious Gourmets! C'mon! You're curious too! I know it!" "/No./"
Mel Brock	Mel reaches out and claps Will reassuringly on the shoulder. "Enjoy the warm fuzzies over doing your civic duty, I guess." She gives Anders an appraising look, then says, "Much as I'd like to see the Iskandrians taken down a peg, I gotta do my job. But at the very least, I can tell you if they've got off-world tech, that very much gets my interest, and if nothing else, the Paladins will even things out by taking it away from them, if we can. Meantime, I'll at least make sure you folks know how to handle it, if it comes to that." A little shrung. "And if there's no Multiversal materiel involved, then I don't care what happens to it. Sail it down a river, if you want."
Yuna Kagurazaka	"Mel, if you want?" Yuna asks. "Elner can document whatever the convoy's transporting, and if Will or Milly confirm that any of it is stuff that simply Does Not Belong on Tellus, we can send you the data for the Paladins to launch an official investigation. Would that be workable?"
August Kohler	"If Will's fine with it, so am I." August says clearly, having no qualms about this job. He just glances at Mel, briefly, before silently turning towards Will. For now, he's not going to speak, and just appraise the situation.
William Pauwel	"They say that they travel from town to town, hiding in plain sight and trading in recipes to someday assemble a codex of the finest foods in all of Tellus," Anders drawls at the pair of Guild girls. "But it's just a rumor. A legend--" he waves a hand through the contrails of smoke, "A ~mystery.~" He's probably just talking the shit. Probably. "Well anyway, it seems like we've come to terms," he says, then, fishing around in his vest for something or other. Once he finds it, he slides a thin card over to... Will. "We'll be watching, but if you have any questions or you need to contact me later, that's how you can find me." The Chaser picks up the card and squints at its contents. "But this just says to leave a message in a bottle--" "Yes. We'll find it one way or another. Probably. Sorry, radio silence keeps the boys and I safe down here, so it's going to have to be snail mail." He looks to the others, then. "Now that that's done. How many of you have ever had barbecued Bog Dragon?"
Yuna Kagurazaka	A question is cleared up, and Yuna looks mildly sheepish. And - "I can't say that I have," Yuna admits to Anders, "but it sounds like it could be tasty ..." 'Could be' is likely the most relevant operative part of her assessment, but she's willing to at least try it.