"I think you're well aware that you have much more going for you than just mere gumption, my dear." He gave a bawdy grin as he gestured to her aforementioned figure with a Dodo leg, "and I'm certain it works just as well in your favor, all things considered. Still, it is not the time nor the place to speak of such things... unless you wish us to tread that path. For now, though, if it is wine you desire, then it is wine you shall have!"
He took a sizable bite of his braised bird, letting the cooked meat and spices tickle his taste buds as the wench departed for Cliodhna's drink. Well, perhaps "tickle" wasn't quite the word. It certainly wasn't the best in Eorzea, what with the spices mostly being used to mask the low grade of the meat, but that was not unexpected. The Kobold Korner was, after all, little more than a hole in the wall where men came to simply fill their guts with meats and alcohol after a long journey. As long as they were full and drunk at the meal's end, the quality of its contents mattered little.
"Anyroad, if there were plans for a second show, they never reached my ears," the captain stated with a grand shrug of his little shoulders before quaffing a sizable amount of his ale. "They knew where to send their Extra - or some other fill-in, it was obviously just a generic faceless sort meant for little more than passing along wishes and desires - to get in touch with me again. They did not."
That was what the contact was in Distractin's eyes: an Extra, little more than a patsy. An average dark-haired Midlander superbly chosen for his role due to his complete and utter lack of any noteworthy characteristics. Even if the man thought he was the one in charge, it was obvious enough to the Dunesfolk that he wasn't the one pulling the strings. The Red Wings - a much more interesting bunch, by comparison, and certainly easier on the eyes considering present company - would be better off chasing after their "dead man" rather than a generic Extra.
"As such, keeping tabs on you - as alluring as certain members of your troupe are - was of little import until you came seeking me," the pirate affirmed. "Of course, we still had eyes on you at the Drydocks afterward to gauge your appreciation for the show. However, when you showed no immediate desire for... autographs, as it were... I deemed it best to leave you be."
His pause afterward was punctuated by the return of the wench with the lady Hyur's bottle of wine. It seemed to be a surprisingly fine one as well, considering the standard fare of the place, perhaps a bit of the owner's personal stock that he had been... convinced to part with. Laffy was quite good at convincing, after all, even despite her less than stellar grasp of the Eorzean tongue. Or perhaps because of it, relying instead on body language that was quite good at getting the tribal Lalafell's point across. Such so that Cliodhna was now in possession of a rather fancy bottle of red wine in a smoky green bottle, along with glasses for both herself and her two Miqo'te companions.
"And yet here you are nonetheless, seeking some of my stage secrets," he corrected with a grin. "Still, I would think hard on what you're asking, my dear. You're coming to a pirate to restore your faith in your precious Jewel, and seek to do so by having said dashing rogue openly break the confidentiality betwixt him and his patron. How could one such as I continue to make a living if I did such things? No patron would be willing to fund my... performances... if they thought I would double-cross them afterward. No no, you'd have better luck getting the information you desire from the dead."
He only hesitated for the briefest of moments after his recommendation before tearing into his meal once more. Each bite did little more than sate his hunger, and reaffirm that the bird in question was both over-spiced and overcooked. Still, the other hunger he had - the one he truly came to this tavern for - was currently enjoying a three-course meal much more savory and succulent. And beautifully plated, as well. There was always something to be said of proper presentation, after all.
"Still," he murmured after washing down the cacophony of spice with a torrent of ale. "There's nothing saying that an audience member could not be... inspired by the performance and seek to become a patron themselves. Perhaps they believe they could have scripted the play better, and wish to show the original scriptwriters how it should be done? And for the right amount of coin, they might be able to acquire the same cast to make the reprisal to truly hammer the point home."
He canted his head, that Cheshire smile of his looking to bisect his head.
"But it would cost quite the hefty amount of coin indeed."
He took a sizable bite of his braised bird, letting the cooked meat and spices tickle his taste buds as the wench departed for Cliodhna's drink. Well, perhaps "tickle" wasn't quite the word. It certainly wasn't the best in Eorzea, what with the spices mostly being used to mask the low grade of the meat, but that was not unexpected. The Kobold Korner was, after all, little more than a hole in the wall where men came to simply fill their guts with meats and alcohol after a long journey. As long as they were full and drunk at the meal's end, the quality of its contents mattered little.
"Anyroad, if there were plans for a second show, they never reached my ears," the captain stated with a grand shrug of his little shoulders before quaffing a sizable amount of his ale. "They knew where to send their Extra - or some other fill-in, it was obviously just a generic faceless sort meant for little more than passing along wishes and desires - to get in touch with me again. They did not."
That was what the contact was in Distractin's eyes: an Extra, little more than a patsy. An average dark-haired Midlander superbly chosen for his role due to his complete and utter lack of any noteworthy characteristics. Even if the man thought he was the one in charge, it was obvious enough to the Dunesfolk that he wasn't the one pulling the strings. The Red Wings - a much more interesting bunch, by comparison, and certainly easier on the eyes considering present company - would be better off chasing after their "dead man" rather than a generic Extra.
"As such, keeping tabs on you - as alluring as certain members of your troupe are - was of little import until you came seeking me," the pirate affirmed. "Of course, we still had eyes on you at the Drydocks afterward to gauge your appreciation for the show. However, when you showed no immediate desire for... autographs, as it were... I deemed it best to leave you be."
His pause afterward was punctuated by the return of the wench with the lady Hyur's bottle of wine. It seemed to be a surprisingly fine one as well, considering the standard fare of the place, perhaps a bit of the owner's personal stock that he had been... convinced to part with. Laffy was quite good at convincing, after all, even despite her less than stellar grasp of the Eorzean tongue. Or perhaps because of it, relying instead on body language that was quite good at getting the tribal Lalafell's point across. Such so that Cliodhna was now in possession of a rather fancy bottle of red wine in a smoky green bottle, along with glasses for both herself and her two Miqo'te companions.
"And yet here you are nonetheless, seeking some of my stage secrets," he corrected with a grin. "Still, I would think hard on what you're asking, my dear. You're coming to a pirate to restore your faith in your precious Jewel, and seek to do so by having said dashing rogue openly break the confidentiality betwixt him and his patron. How could one such as I continue to make a living if I did such things? No patron would be willing to fund my... performances... if they thought I would double-cross them afterward. No no, you'd have better luck getting the information you desire from the dead."
He only hesitated for the briefest of moments after his recommendation before tearing into his meal once more. Each bite did little more than sate his hunger, and reaffirm that the bird in question was both over-spiced and overcooked. Still, the other hunger he had - the one he truly came to this tavern for - was currently enjoying a three-course meal much more savory and succulent. And beautifully plated, as well. There was always something to be said of proper presentation, after all.
"Still," he murmured after washing down the cacophony of spice with a torrent of ale. "There's nothing saying that an audience member could not be... inspired by the performance and seek to become a patron themselves. Perhaps they believe they could have scripted the play better, and wish to show the original scriptwriters how it should be done? And for the right amount of coin, they might be able to acquire the same cast to make the reprisal to truly hammer the point home."
He canted his head, that Cheshire smile of his looking to bisect his head.
"But it would cost quite the hefty amount of coin indeed."