Strictly Business (Open)

[Ricter]

Why a club, for all places to meet for any sort of shady dealings? It kept the other party from doing anything overly foolish. They didn't want to attack in front of so many people, so many potential witnesses. Even in the heat of their rage anyone who had been in this sort of business long enough knew such things. Even if they hadn't been at it that long would they really believe that he would be so arrogant as to come alone to a meeting like this? Never, he always tried to be two steps ahead, keeping him in the lead.

Sitting at a small table with a grizzled old Bear, Caine looked just too relaxed. He sat straight, claws folded together loosely on the surface before him, a drink sitting in a glass beside them, beads of condensation slipping down the clear sides to the napkin beneath it. A faint smirk was spread on his features, lop sided and just as cruel as his eyes. His counterpart did not seem to be overly happy with this, considering the one who was forcing him into business under him was sitting back and smiling about the entire thing. Caine had worked it expertly, slowly narrowing a gang's territory before closing in for the proverbial kill.

While his opponent in this game of predator and prey certainly wasn't happy with the new arrangement he wasn't stupid. He knew when to shut up and roll over. Getting up, he didn't even finish the drink that was on Caine's tab, just staring at the smaller hybrid seated across the table for a moment before departing. Caine, on the other hand, remained where he was for a moment, as if pondering the outcome of the entire situation. Then he lifted his drink, taking a quick taste, turning to look at those who had come for pleasure rather than business.

[Raron]

The crowd gathered, there breath held as they watched the furre in the center of the huddle. His tail waved high up in the air, a flat green slimy thing with a "mohawk" of black fur going up from the underside and over the tip down his back. What at first glance appeared to be black gloved hands flew over the table to grabbing small piece of metal of various alloys, grabbing parts turning them, moving then, fitting them together at high speed before holding up the finished product, pulling back on a piece of it, letting a loud click ring out as a metal hammer fell upon an empty chamber and the gun gently laid down upon the table to before him. The hands crossed each other to grab not onto opposite shoulders but rather opposite hips as the tail wagged above them lazily.

Some of the crowd groaned, some cheered as money was exchanged and grumbling was heard. The furre at the center of the commotion extended his true hands from the place under the seat and tilted to the side. A quick expert cart wheel and the Armory Chief of the Angels was standing on his handfeet smiling as only a scratch of his kind could. The monkey eel looked proudly upon his work and handed it off to it's owner. The crowd shook their heads as they commented.

"Who is this guy?"
"Don't know calls himself Dimitri, some kind of gun smith I guess."
"He did that without looking and standing on his head? HOW?"
"Think he needs a job?..."

Dimitri ignored the comments as he visual checked his work, occasionally a contented coo came out as he stroked the engraved metal. He continued until a loud clearing of a throat behind him got his attention. He looked behind him at the hyena that had loaned him the gun and with a smile Dimitri reverently picked up the pistol and handed it to the furre.

"There you go, Sally is all shipshape though whatever that has to do with anything I don't know. She needs you to treat her a bit more gently though she is a beautiful lady but she is getting on in years so she needs to be looked after more as time goes on."

The hyena blinked at the scratch as he looked down at the gun and then around himself. The other furres did the same as the hyena again looked at Dimitri and pointed at the gun.

"Sally?"

Dimitri nodded.

"Indeed."

The hyena shrugged and re-holstered his weapon before moving away from the obvious crazy furre. As he did so Dimitri reached out with his tail and snagged his drink where he had shoved it during the ruckus and took a sip of his coffee. The furre who had brought him here... mostly against his will as he screamed and yelled and grabbed onto the doorway... refused to let him try alcohol... it WAS in the regulations even... not about other Angels... just him. In Dimitri's defense he did help put out the fire... but the council had decided so it must be. With a wave of dismissal to a job offer he waited for Vladma to return from the little furre's room.

[Adeline]

Adeline hated this place. It wasn't that the dancers weren't talented, or that the fish weren't colorful, or that the drinks weren't brewed well...no. All that was perfectly fine. It was just the atmosphere of the place. It was dingy, even sticky. Humid may well be the word to describe this atmosphere. Of course, the more the tiger thought about it, the more she realized that the club did justice to its oceanic theme. At the surface, it was a pretty cool looking place, but the deeper into it you got, the more you realized that dangerous things were lurking.

Simply by being observant, Adie could see several beings that were dangerous, several that were lurking, and some that were both. This place was too shady for what she was used to. She preferred Angelo's. It wasn't that shady dealings didn't happen within the walls of Angelo's (don't be innocent, they most definitely did), but the bar on the Walk handled it with much greater poise. It was as if the Grotto simply screamed out "Do shady business here! We don't care! Pretend to be discreet while all you're doing is showing off!"

You definitely wouldn't find the Syndicate Boss enjoying Chicken Tenders and a beer comfortably in Angelo's, while gun smiths showed off their talents. At least on the Walk they had the decency to keep their weapons out of sight.

So then, with such an obvious distaste for such a place, why was the Foundry leader here at the Grotto?

Business, of course. Who would ever come to this place simply looking for a good time? Adeline had a couple of new members who still weren't quite used to the way she ran things: so secretive it was out in the open. These members were still too paranoid to meet her at the Wallside Cafe for a latte and dangerous instructions. They were still too paranoid to be seen "out in the open". All that meant is that they weren't careful enough and were eventually going to disappoint her. At any rate, they seemed to think this nightclub was safe and comfortable and, contrary to popular belief, not "out in the open". But that was only because it had gained that reputation.

The tiger glanced at her pocket watch--no high tech machinery for this furre. She was antique all the way. Maybe she would let that gun smith take a look at her keepsake, straight off the pirate ship. He might faint at its obseleteness. Then again, he might rejoice in it. Regardless, she didn't care about new technology. Her out of date watch still told the time as well as any digital thingamajig. And hers currently told her that the furre she was supposed to meet was seventeen minutes late. In such a shady place as this, he was still paranoid. Pathetic. He wouldn't be good for much.

As she finished her first beer (she was keeping to the light alcoholic beverages tonight. No need to waste herself in this neighborhood), her appointment finally arrived, a weasel-like creature who continually glanced behind his shoulder. A shady, paranoid weasel. So much for getting rid of stereotypes.

He sat down.

"You've already wasted my time," Adeline said.

"Sorry boss, but I got this," he said, sliding a folded bunch of papers towards her.

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought I had been explicitly clear about not wanting to deal with paperwork. Too messy, too easily taken." Too hard and annoying to read, she added mentally.

"Sorry boss, but word a mouth is too easily overheard. Can't take no chances. Important stuff I got there."

"And what if someone just heard that and decided to steal said 'important stuff'? Is this it?"

He peered over his shoulder as if actually worried that someone had over heard what he said. "Yeah, boss, all I got. It's good though, you'll like it."

With a sigh, Adeline placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward, chin on her hands. "You listen here. Next time you have something for me, you meet me where I say, and you speak. Paper is overrated. Secrecy is troublesome. If you're going to call me boss, at least act like I am the boss, and do what I say. Now leave."

He nodded, mumbled some agreement, and left. Adeline sighed again. It was only a matter of time before he ended up in jail too. It always happens to the paranoid ones. And a pity, she thought, that she would have to get wasted because of someone as stupid as that. She ordered another beer. Just two she thought, and she would leave this dank place.

[Ricter]

Yes, this place did have a knack for attracting the scum of the world but one could always argue so many points in the matter. This sea-scaped club was situated in a location where it could draw the best and worst sort of furres. The nature could be the second argument. Dark, humid, so many people, they were all trying to show off in one way or another so it got rowdy. For Caine's purpose, it was as close to flawless as a place could be.

Nobody ever wanted to look in the most public of places for shady deals, they wanted to look in abandoned apartment buildings or alleys. Of course, this wasn't the place for arms deals or large drug exchanges. This was just the place he used for talk and talk alone. Some would say talk was cheap but the fact of the matter was, in this business, it could destroy more lives than a shipment of fully automatic weapons and methamphetamines combined in one package. While Caine wasn't the voice of any God, his words could be devastating. However, that was a last resort, he liked to try and be civil.

As the masses erupted in groans and cheers and the unmistakable sound of currency changing hands came to his ears, he turned. Lifting himself from his seat, he looked back to the two goons he'd brought with them, both nursing beers at a nearby table. One, a burly looking canine mix, the other a cold eyed iguana. A gesture was given to them, a sign that they could stay put for now, as the deal was done. Never mix business with pleasure and now that the work was done he could enjoy a light celebration of success. Ones loss was another's gain and he always sought to find that gain and claim it first. He made his way over, hearing out the other hybrid as he explained to the weapon's owner a few of the finer points in firearms. However, it wasn't so much his style and something much, much more interesting had drawn his attentions.

A rather paranoid looking Mustelidae moving to a particular place. There were two ways to spot someone who was hiding something and who wasn't good at it. The first way was that they were like this poor sap. They were nervous, paranoid, as if they constantly expected someone to come out of the wood work and catch them. The second way was that they tried too hard to look like they were not doing anything wrong. Now, seeing the tigress he sat down with, paper exchanged, they way she looked so agitated with the weasel's very presence, a wicked smirk split his features. Being a Lord of Shady Deals, he knew one when he saw one. He didn't move in, though, he just took up a new seat. Setting his drink down, he watched as her company left, one set of claws lifting to adjust his collar. Caine was watching the tigress....and seeing if she would feel the eyes upon her and take notice of him.

[Vespa]

A wall reflected back an image of young female leopard leaning over the sink and adjusting an out of line whisker or two. Behind her bustled the rowdy and restless as the leopardess turned round and gave herself a visual check for rogue toilet paper and out of line clothing. The environment of the room attempted to be a softer form of the main club but with every parting and entering body the room throbbed with lights and the thumping roaring sounds of an ocean club. Upon finding no visual issue she murred with satisfaction, winked to herself, and sashayed herself out the door.

Immediately the female sharpshot found herself burrowing through flailing bodies and searching for one very unique scratch. Bobbing up and down on tip toes she peeked over the ocean's surface and saw not much more than heads. It didn't take her long to spot the large disk of organic matter and could only assume she knew what was in the middle. The gang was just breaking and parting, whispering to each other in uncomfortable confusion as she approached. Undoubtedly as the center was revealed she spotted her target sipping at a drink. It was a coffee when she left. But it is Dimitri. You can't exactly trust that guy. Just for good measure she slunk her way behind the slimy critter and swiped the glass from his gooey mitt. Quickly she took a sip and finding it was only coffee felt easier about letting him drink it. God forbid he ever found her beloved Vodka. Vodka....she could use one. But tonight probably won't be a night for drinking. Peeing was already too much of a risk. What the hell kind of woman would bring a militaristic maniac with a severe case of ADD like Dimitri anywhere? Vladma.That's who.

[Adeline]

Someone was watching her. A seasoned expert of spying, and being spied on, Adeline could tell when eyes were on her. Damn this place. Damn paranoid weasels. Who wouldn't find that exchange vaguely interesting...or even amusing?--Some skittering creature busting into a shady club, looking over his shoulder only to throw down a small sheaf of papers and leave, flustered. Adeline was even slightly embarrassed, and that was certainly a rare occurrence. And now, to top it all off, someone was watching her. Whoever it was certainly knew that something shady had just gone on. Damn it all.

The tigress finally picked up the papers that she hadn't yet glanced at, let alone touched. She didn't even bother to unfold them, and simply stuffed them into an inside pocket in her frock coat. The information was likely valid: it's primary source was trusted and she had used him often. It was only the middleman that was a complete waste of time. The papers she now had in her possession should have been burned days ago. It was Adie's philosophy to keep all paperwork far far away from her.

Normally, if everything went as planned, it unfolded more like this--Adeline would talk to a newbie, telling him/her what she expected of them and giving them a simple task--get information from someone and relay it. This straightforward test was normally to get a judgment of the recruit. Obviously, the weasel had failed. The newcomer would have to maneuver his/her way through secret dealings in order to find the party in question. When brought face to face, the primary information source would show the recruit the paperwork and files and explain all the information contained therein. It was the recruit's job to memorize the information and burn the paperwork as quickly as necessary. Then they would set up a casual, public meeting, lunch or coffee, normally, and, along with talking about some personal affairs, would relay the necessary information. However, this? This was a mess.

Adeline took a sip of beer, regaining her inner composure. She could still feel eyes boring into her. It was time to make a decision--ignore the guy, or let him know she could feel him watching her. She remained nonchalant as she weighed the two choices. The first thing to consider was the nature of the furre deciding to glue his eyes on her. The first thing to determine was to why he had even begun to watch her. Either he had seen the exchange and found it interesting or amusing, or he was merely interested in the tigress herself. As she had been in the club over twenty minutes and not too many people had entered after her, she had to assume that the exchange itself had caught the attention of the observer.

A second thing to consider was why he was interested by the events that had unfolded. Did he know who she was? Who she really was? Unlikely. Not many did. She was known everywhere as the Pirate Queen, considering she was always seen wearing her tri-point and frock coat. However, few knew her real name, or purpose. The Foundry was still, to the public, merely a rumor. All this information taken into account, Adeline came to the conclusion that this furre probably didn't know who she was, but knew a shady dealing when he saw one. He probably found this one amusing. In that case, it wouldn't hurt to turn around and find him.

However, on the off chance that the tigress's assumptions were incorrect, and the observer in question did truly know who she was, then it was best to acknowledge him. It had been thirty seconds at the most, but Adeline's mind was truly made up. She would let this observer know what he was dealing with.

She turned her head, and quickly found the eyes. It was a beady eyed hybrid of mammal and reptile staring back at her. Slippery and tough at the same time--a dangerous combination. Whoever this furre was, he was used to being at the top--and he specialized in the shady.

She stared steadily into the man's eyes, letting him know she was strong and wouldn't back down from a confrontation. After a few seconds, she gave a small, exasperated smirk. Hopefully this would let him know that she wasn't a complete bumbling fool. However, she made no attempts to initiate contact, but remained staring at him. She even took another sip of her beer, eyes firmly set on him, studying.

[Raron]

((OOC sorry for the lack of posting, life is interesting don't you think? GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! INSERT PROFANITY HERE!... anyways on to D))


Dimitri smiled as he saw his good friend Vladma but a frown came over his face as she stole his coffee from him, he was just getting back to a nice toast warm internal temperature and she kept taking his hot drinks and sipping them. He glared at her more then a little irked, first of all his bosses had decide to insist on him taking a bit of vacation time. He really didn't see what the big deal was, he helped put out the fire and the doctors got to the council members and diagnosed him with mild burns. Also it was his own fault for walking in unannounced, then they told him he wasn't even allowed to have his vacation the armory! He was forced to not only leave it but after a little... fracas he was made to leave the HQ for the duration.

Vlad had been nice about it, talked to him... and then dragged him out of the warm HQ out into the freezing cold, dragged him to this club and then stole his coat so he couldn't even slip out the back! He could... but without his heated coat he would probably freeze to death. He didn't want to freeze to death. Half cold blooded and half both halves being from tropical climates... he often wondered why his parents even came here... he also wondered who they were but that was another story.

He glared at her... then sighed letting go of the irritation. He had a hard time staying made especially at Vlad. He gently took back the coffee and took another sip savoring the warmth. He looked around and had to admit... he was feeling better... He smiled a bit and was about to thank Vladma when an idea speared into his mind like a bolt from the blue, it percalated, spread around within his warped mind and reached the due point marked 'inspiration'.

His head snapped to the table and his hands snatched up every napkin there, he spread them out trying to flatten them but the napkins tore too easily. He considered just drawing on the table but the shape was wrong. Looking about he spotted a furre shoved papers into her cloths. Without a word to his spotted friend he tore off through the crowd, his hands above his head for balance as he ran and quickly arrived at the tigers side. He held out his hands in supplication.

"MA'AM! You appeared to be an intelligent woman, a passionate woman, surely you will understand my desires! My NEEDS!! When the muse of violence prowls the night and blesses you with a visit you can not just turn to her and ask her to come back the next morning with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of aspirin. NAY! You must strike while she burns red hot in your mind. Thus I beg you please give me some of that paper. The muse is upon me and I must design the next wonderful lady that will dance upon this cities streets!"

He held out her hand giving her his best grin.. not realizing this caused his left eye to bulge just slightly from it's socket.

[Ricter]

Just as she observed him she was studied in turn. The very look of her told him that she wasn't nearly as deep as he was into the nightmare that was the grim underbelly of this city. No, she looked tough but she didn't look cruel. Some may come to the conclusion that one could be kind and still get the job done. It certainly was too bad that simply could not be so. While it wasn't constant one simply had to be vicious from time to time, whether it be for purpose or demonstration.

Just her attire had the mental image of the Pirate Queen slipping into his mind. Yes, the name he knew but he'd never had the pleasure of meeting the face behind that title. It didn't disappoint. Though she did wear the garb he doubted she didn't seem the type with an unquenched thirst for blood. However, there was one thing he could tell. She was hiding something. It may not be something considerably outrageous or potentially lethal but it was something big.

When that smirk crossed her face he continued to watch her before he began to laugh. It seems that confrontation was not on his mind, a maw filled with needle like fangs exposed in an ear to ear grin. He almost got to his feet when someone else suddenly made their way on scene. As the other hybrid, the one who'd shown his expertise with firearms, engaged her so...eccentricly, Caine rose from his seat. Drink held low at his side, digits circling over the lip of the glass and curled slightly below it's base.

"But whom will the lady dance with?" came the interjected question as he came up upon the blabbering hybrid and the tigress, "For her very creation could mean the upholding of the law or it could be a tool to it's crumbling. The muse of violence is far from fickle and she is apathetic to all of us. Would another avatar of her existence be carried by you, us, or them?" he left such an open ended question for not only the armorer but the tigress as well. Standing there, he watched the monkey-eel through slightly narrowed eyes, head tilting back and just over his left shoulder, the ghost of a smirk having settled onto his features.

[Adeline]

She finally tore her gaze from the other furre's face when distracted by the sound of someone else running--towards her. It was the gun smith: the showy, hyperactive gunsmith from the Angels. She had heard of him before, this Angel. She had been given reports on his prowess and outstanding talents, as well as eccentric behaviors. She knew his name-Dmitri Salvadore, age 36. However, though she had heard much about him and his odd mannerisms, she was soon to experience it first hand.

He ran up to her, eyes bulging slightly, hands outstretched, blabbering on about the "muse of violence" and how he needed paper to design her. She hadn't even the chance to respond before the furre who had been watching her also lazily made his way towards her, also speaking. She wondered what he was drinking...wondered if it was something that tasted a bit better than this cheap beer.

She gazed slowly at both of them and before she answered either of them, a smirk once again rose to her features. It was an uncomfortable situation that she had been thrown into, yes, but she could handle it quite easily. The question of the paper borrowing was a simple one to answer: no. It was only the execution of that statement which would be a little trying, seeing as the tigress was not necessarily accustomed to adults with the attention spans and hyperactivity of children. The other hybrid, however, seemed much calmer, much more at ease. He certainly would be much easier to interact with.

She spoke, directing her attention to the one who had watched her. "For whomever dances with her also determines what type of dance it will be, unless imbibed with her own, dangerous wish to lead. I think the muse would wish to create such women, those who think for themselves and lead their own dances. And then, sir, the question of her partner is no longer important, for she will be above the law and lethal to all."

Was she even talking about guns anymore? Adeline didn't know. She simply spoke what came to her mind. It seems as if the metaphor had perhaps gone so far as to be applied to some females themselves. She now turned to Dmitri, speaking again. "You must beware of the muse's calling, for she has no care for the lives of others...not even your own life is important in her eyes."

Adeline had known too many people to have died on their own weapon, or weapons of their own design. She knew the indifference of this muse. Her smirk faded as she continued speaking. "And for that reason, I cannot give you these papers. Apart from the fact that they have already been written on, of course. My friend," she said, glancing again at the furre who had seen the exchange, "is composing an essay for a history class of his. He asked for my assistance, although it is against the school's policy. His nerves were almost comically annoying. So, as you see, I need these papers, and they can be of no use to you. My apologies."

It wasn't the best she could come up with, but given the lack of time, she thought it would suffice...at least perhaps for the gunsmith. She doubted that the other furre would buy this rushed excuse, but Adeline hoped he would have the decency to refrain from calling her out until Dmitri had left, disappointed. Of course, he could also just find all of this terribly amusing and call her bluff before the Angel had left. If that was the case, she still didn't think she'd have any trouble getting rid of the gunsmith. The papers did, after all, have writings on them. Writings that she needed. And neither of these men were gentlemen if they attempted to reach them, as they were folded into the inside breast pocket of her frock coat. Even the roughest pirates respected her boundaries, but more so because they feared her reaction as opposed to being polite.

[Vespa]

(Addie Skipped me! T3T And sorry it's a super late post. Had some stuff go down and trying to get this skin done. Busy busy! >.< )

Oh crap. Oh crap, oh crap. It wasn't her nature but the calm serene face of the leopard sunk to reflect a slight hint of panic. She knew that look on Dimitri's face and before she knew it the monkey-eel had flurried into action making a mess of the nearest table. She did her best to minimize the damage; scrounging and clasping for a flurry of napkins. Her paw closed on a fluttering paper and and the slimy little bugger vanished from the corner of her eye. Lucky for her his very nature made him extremely easy to follow and off she wet on the chase.

Following the mitts flailing above the crowd the lithe leopard weaved her way through the crowed to find a degenerate scratch supplicating to a curiously dressed tigress. Her womanly instincts barely twinged with suspicion before she spotted the even more dubious looking scratch waxing poetic about something or other. Even after she reached a distance where sound wasn't drowned out she hardly had a clue what they were saying. Curse this language difference. Why couldn't they all just speak in Vladma's native tongue. After all it sounded far more eloquent. But that could hardly be changed.

Looming herself over her freak ball from behind she mulled over the first part of the tigress's speech. What were they talking about. Dimitri doesn't have a woman. And if he did he would hardly care what she has to say...Vladma would know. Unless they meant the other guy. Or maybe the Tigress had less that rigid sexual preferences. That could be interesting. Oh wait. Curse this language!

By the time she caught on the she-pirate already gave some bogus explanation as to why the papers couldn't be shared. That was hardly of any concern. Having finally figured things out the paper and this conversation was far more dangerous than anything she was hiding on those silly papers.

She had to break this up or at least side track it some how. Alcohol, was a bad idea. Hmm...hurry. Uhm.... All she could think of was to fake a trip and fling herself haphazardly towards both her Armory chief and the Pirate-ess with a few foreign expletives. With any luck one of them would forget the conversation and get mad at her which she could deal with.

[Raron]

"For whomever dances with her also determines what type of dance it will be, unless imbibed with her own, dangerous wish to lead. I think the muse would wish to create such women, those who think for themselves and lead their own dances. And then, sir, the question of her partner is no longer important, for she will be above the law and lethal to all."

The words of the furre echoed in his head, driving out the snide reply he was going to direct at the black skinned male. Again and again her comment echoed... a gun that could lead the dance, a gun capable of making choices, aiming... watching her partner's back. The idea circulated and gained momentum faster and faster, he ignored the approaching sniper, he ignored the music booming over speakers, he ignored the past, the present. All his eyes could see at the moment was the future, large and glorious. His lips curled into a smile unlike anyone he had ever made, the pain of his lips stretching into a bigger smile then he had ever known was ignored because he realized what the moment was, what the time was... it was time for him to change everything... one comment carelessly given had more effect on him then his entire career.

He tilted back his head and began to laugh, it spread out from him in a wave as he laughed at the simple brilliance, he laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea that came before it, he laughed at the expressions of those around him, he laughed and then stopped as he closed his mouth with a snap. A single tooth tip popped loose and bounce across the floor where it was ignored. He gazed at the tigress with gratitude in his eyes.

"This... this idea changes everything you and I or even anyone knows about guns. Don't you get it?"

He held out his arms to the two strangers.

"THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING! Guns that think, that reason, that care, that see. Choosing the best ammo for the situation, a second pair of eyes to watch your back to make sure they only shoot the right target that they will not arm in the wrong hands... never again will someone be shot by mistake, never again will a child playing in daddy's closet blow away his best friends head by accident leaving a bloody mist upon the walls and a scar in his heart, never again will a furre holding a toy be mistaken for a gunwielder."

He twirled on the spot and raised his arms to the sky as tears streamed down his face. They were simple tears. Tears of thankfulliness.

"A mere repeatable grenade is nothing compared to this idea, to this creation which will be my masterpiece, my lasting imprint on the world. Do you see... with this... I CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING!"

His head with water still spilling from his eyes snapped back to look at the tiger and pointed at her, his finger as solid as a mountain rage despite the fact the rest of him was shaking like a leaf.

"YOU! Ma'am if I may have not have your paper I must insist on your name freely given. The first lady, the first of many the first and most important of these brilliant ladies must have a name... and I think naming her after the muse that postulated the notion is only fitting would you not agree? So tell me mother of the new gun... what is your name?"

He gazed at her with adoration, with respect and with an eye for detail, he was convinced he had to remember this, every detail, every nuance. The song that was playing, the lights on the ceiling behind the furre, the number of people in the background and the smell of perfume. The delightful furre that had blessed him with this notion. He had to remember her most of all.

[Ricter]

Each passing moment of listening to the tigress speak, so she could be eloquent as well as coy. This was something that he was taking a liking to. She'd started something that could be dangerous, drawing his interest the way she did. The mystery of exactly who she was, to him, was like the taste of a sweet, rare wine. After all, he was the calculating sort. Call it a compulsion, he simply had to know things, learn things about people, figure them out, know them almost as well as they knew themselves. Some of the time this served his own ends but on occasion, he wished to know simply for the sake of knowing.

However, this fellow hybrid, he was something else. Insane. The way he began to weep, blubbering with ideas, it was clear that the lights were on but nobody was home. Words flowing forth of such a weapon, that was, to him, ridiculous. He almost said something, up until the other feline fell towards them, slinging out her expletives. Digits locked together behind his back, standing in a relaxed but slightly formal stance. He didn't say a word to the language she spoke, guessing as it sounded like only expletives could sound. Only then did he look back to the rambling monkey-eel. He didn't say anything, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

Ridiculous. A gun that could do all of that? That would give it sentience. What would happen then? Caine knew. The gun may act as the furre saw it acting...but would it always? What was to say the gun that would think differently, if given such a property? Perhaps it would act on it's own accord, fire at an innocent. Anything with that sort of intelligence brought too many risks to the table. Besides...Caine considered such an idea to be, at best, a hair-brained scheme. The only thing that kept him from speaking out against it was amusement at the entire ordeal. A dreamer would always be a dreamer...let them dream.

As all of this went on he looked to the Tigress, gesturing to a seat at her table, as if asking if she would allow him to take a seat. This might take a while, as he had an inkling of suspicion that even if she refused to grant her name the gunsmith may pester her for it. Added, would she give the name, knowing that it would be placed upon a potential weapon? A device that would be used to kill it's enemies of it's wielder and them alone? Something like that would be far from a blessing, an atrocity at best. A machine lacked something that the sentient mind had. Instinct, feeling. A furre could choose whether or not to pull the trigger on their fellow furre....a machine wouldn't make that choice, it would just do what it was designed to do.

[Adeline]

Adeline's horror grew with each word the gunsmith uttered. A thinking gun? A programmed weapon with a mind all to its own? Yes, that was what she had said, but she meant it as a warning! She, under no circumstances, supported such a technological advance. It was nonsense--insanity!

Her look of interested turned into an incredulous scowl. It was near impossible to keep composure after the blasphemous words that had just been uttered. Give her name?! Give her name?! As the name of a new weapon that could have the potential to spin drastically out of control? Unlikely. In fact, it was far more than unlikely. It was atrocious.

Her lips sneered back as she spoke. Her speech was lethal, quiet, imbued with a poisonous air. "Dmitri, Gunsmith of the Hour Glass Guild, if before this you were considered unbalanced, then I assure you that now you are nothing less than criminally insane. Did you not hear my warning? The muse of violence shows no bias towards life. She will kill you just as quickly as she will destroy your enemy. These machines would be ruled by their own statistics and orders, with no capacity for feeling. Perhaps it would itself determine which furres are worthy of life. Perhaps it would find intelligent beings dangerous. This technology would surely turn against the living, for, being created by greedy beings, it would in itself become greedy."

As she spoke, she saw the other man gesture towards her table. He obviously thought this discussion would last longer than she wished it to. She glanced at him, giving a non committal look. She did not nod in acquiscense, but neither did she decline his request. She simply told him, with her eyes, to do what he wished. Then she turned her attention back to Dmitri. There was more she wished to say.

"And as for my name? You may say it is Death for all a name matters, for that is all that will come of the weapons you manufacture, these 'women' you care for. I myself have no wish to be connected with such a horrendous creation."

Adeline thought back to her years on the ship, the only guns being old, outdated, ones that constantly misfired or didn't fire at all. If you wanted a weapon, it was a sword or a knife you must count on--weapons that are simply extensions of the arm. A gun was another entity all together. You could not count on a gun. It could be wielded by many without much skill, whereas the wielding of a knife, a sword, required talent, precision. It was more of a duel than a one sided attack. To be frank, technology scared her. She longed for the past.

It was then that she noticed the female leopard, careening in and speaking unfamiliar words. She had been with the gunsmith earlier, when the tigress had walked in. It seemed like she was trying to create a diversion of some sort, rather than actually acting drunk and stupid and bumbling into someone else's conversation. She was likely an Angel as well, but simply one that Adeline did not know on sight. The tigress wondered absently what the leopard must think of this entire situation, and how she was affiliated with Dmitri, but her thoughts on the leopard lasted only a second. Adeline was far too preoccupied with the incredulous statements of the Gunsmith, and how technology itself should never advanced as far as it has.