Idle Hands

[Ricter]

How long had it been since he'd last set foot up here? To the best of Ricter's recollection, had to be about two years. Even in the darkest part of the night this place still had that joyful atmosphere to it. Of course, the last time he was up here it hadn't been such a happy occasion. Holding someone by the collar and threatening to drop them off the edge if they didn't pay up usually didn't constitute as a happy memory. It had been the nature of the beast, though. You didn't work as hired muscle and expect that your paws would never get a little dirty. With some luck he hadn't had to throw the poor sap over the railing that night, even though he'd known a few furres that had been around when someone had been unfortunate enough to have an "accident".

It was about that same time now, dark, either late night or early morning, he couldn't tell. Insomnia wasn't what plagued him, never had. The weasel had learned from a very early age that sleeping too much wasted time that could be valuable. Later on he learned that sleeping light was also good. Hence, he never slept too much these days, perhaps four or five hours a night, if at all. Though they had all been warned on multiple occasions for their own safety, it was the railing that he leaned against now. Arms resting on it, digits interlocked, he leaned over it just a bit, as if he intended to taunt fate. Any that knew him well enough would know he simply didn't care too much.

Having just finished a cigarette, he was using the still smoldering butt of one to ignite another. Afterwards he flicked the old away, watching that orange tip spiral off into the darkness below. He'd been in contact with Foundry comrades, been doing his job, reporting back. Lately, he'd been trying to wrap his head around that grassy hill that the Hourglass Guild seemed to have sole ownership to, like some sort of exclusive club. Kind of odd to him, he still didn't understand it. The stitches across his muzzle were holding fine, the knife wound he'd received there was closing, the Doc had done a good job. Of course, he hadn't said much. Don't ask, don't tell seemed to be the rule in play there. Now, he was just waiting. He'd asked to see someone in the inner circle of the Foundry, had a few questions to ask about a few things. If he was going to continue doing what he was doing he needed some answers to make things just a little more efficient.

[Adeline]

Adeline liked the night, but right now it was a little too late for her taste. Normally it was time for bed when the bars stopped serving alcohol, but tonight was a special exception. One of the lower members of the Foundry had asked to speak to someone a bit higher. His message stated "the inner circle".

That tipped the tiger off. This guy was new, he was low, and he wasn't quite sure what he got himself into. If he thought of the Foundry as having "circles", then he obviously didn't know quite what the organization was. It wasn't a gang with any circles, like the furre must have assumed. Likely, that's what he was used to. No. When you asked to speak to an authority in the Foundry--you talked to Adeline. That really was the only circle you got. No one else could really tell you the answers you wanted to hear, because she was the only one who really knew. Everyone else had their own idea of what the Foundry was, but it was Adeline you talked to if you wanted answers.

She had stayed sober tonight...well, as sober as she could muster-which meant she had had two drinks rather than her usual nightly five. She didn't want to come off as incompetent.

There was only one other figure on the Walk. He was smoking a cigarette and dangling his hand carelessly off the railing. The picture of apathy. He looked like the kind of guy who would simply follow the orders he was given--a quiet, efficient, ask no questions kind of guy. It made her wonder what he wanted to know so badly. She approached the furre.

"It's a quiet night," she commented, taking off her hat and leaning against the railing. She didn't want the rare tripoint to blow off the ledge in the wind. Instead, she let it dangle over the railing with her arms. If it blew off, she was going with it.

[Ricter]

It was sadly true. The one who didn't care about too many people, too many things. The kind of furre that just did what he was told to do without any question as to motives, even if it meant diving right into the thick of things when others might consider the notion foolish. Then again, that was just who he was. His former occupation had taught him many things, things that made him who he was today and aided him in his work now. Ricter already knew how to keep an eye on certain figures of interest, various methods of getting information out of furres, he knew how to get things that might be difficult to find unless one looked in the right places. Of course, some of these skills were less than reputable, like the way he knew how to fight with a knife, or the way he could handle a gun. A thug, pure and simple.

His head turned slightly when he saw someone coming out of the corner of his eye. The boss. Sure, that may not be her official title, or even the one she preferred but, once again, the way he had learned things. Then again, at least he did know who to go to for the answers he wanted. When she spoke up he glanced at her, taking a long drag before exhaling the cloud with a wheeze as he replied, "Yeah." As always, the furre of few words. However, he wasn't one for small talk. "What's with'tha Drop." he asked, not too loud but he didn't seem to be worried that there were ears out here other than their own. "Angles in there all tha' time, nothin' else."

It may have been a dangerous question to ask, may have been one without any real answer but he wouldn't know unless he did some digging to find out. Seemed like the kind of place things happened that the Hourglass Guild didn't want anybody else knowing about. To him, that was the kind of stuff that he used to be in, working behind the scenes. To him, the reasoning behind doing things in the dark was it was things you didn't want to be seen doing. Something they might want to dig into. Of course, he didn't think someone was going to be sneaking in there anytime soon unless they had a death wish but there was always another way.