Hollis + Silence || Testing the Water
Who: Silence and Hollis
When: Earlier this week.
Where: Street
Ratings & Warnings: None.
Winter was so very, very yesterday. By habit, Silence was a creature of stillness, for stealth relied heavily upon maintaining exacting control over one's limbs. It was not the first time that he had been forced to wait out frozen hours under cover of darkness, but the assassin found himself rocking lightly back and forth on his feet in order to keep the blood pumping through them. He'd added a thorough layer of padding to the mask about his face in an attempt to keep the mist of his breath from showing on the air, and the heat from open-mouthed breathing also served to maintain a fragile grip on warmth.
A tiny, telltale scuff of boot to cobblestone told him that he was no longer alone, and his eyes clocked left, squinting until they picked out Hollis Bercator's slight silhouette against the gloom.
"The street suggests the Guard have reopened their case into your uncle's death," he said, foregoing a more traditional greeting.
Hollis raised an eyebrow, lifting the cobalt blue hood of her cloak up to cover that distinctive, reckless blonde hair. She'd not been prepared to be confronted with the assassin and hadn't set an appointment to see him. The blonde didn't seem annoyed; rather, she casually shifted her path further away from the center of the street, into the areas where the light was lost.
"... Yes, one of their junior guards is requesting a meeting," murmured the blonde calmly.
Considering the confirmation, Silence resisted the urge to rock upon his toes once more. He couldn't feel them, and that was usually a bad sign. People always underestimated the need for toes. You never saw a successful assassin or roof burglar with a toe missing. He pondered how much information Hollis was likely to give the investigator. If they were this far down the line and still had nothing, then it was unlikely she'd shopped him down the river last time. Nevertheless, she knew, and he knew she knew, and she knew he knew she knew that he had been the one hired to remove the earlier Bercators. He had to know if she was actively aiding the guards in their search - and if so, exactly how much help she was providing.
"Do we still have an agreement?"
Ah. So that was why he'd come. Hollis briefly contemplated asking: what agreement?, before reminding herself that assassins tended to have dark, nearly sociopathic senses of humor, and playing jokes on them usually had unintended consequences. "Of course," she said, calmly.
"My mother's health is taking a turn for the worse," added the blonde in an absent, idle way, as though the fact was of very little importance, and not a cover for the noose slowly tightening around her father's neck. "I wouldn't be surprised to see them relocate to warmer climes to preserve it."
If Lennox was being shipped out of town, it was unlikely that the Guard of Tyrol would follow him. It was likely for the best. With two sons coming into their majority both waiting for their inheritance to come around, Lennox would eventually see it wise that he step down before the steps were taken for him. Silence had not heard anything in particular about either Quinn or Lude being of that bent, but reputation would have it that all Bercators were of similar vein.
"My regards to your mother," he said, blandly. "How much do your brothers know?"
"Enough." Hollis said, and nothing more.
The assassin gave her a hard look. As much as he valued secrets, he did not like secrets being so vaguely passed around if they concerned him. Removing a second Bercator family would no doubt be as easy as removing the first, he consoled himself, and maintained calm. He nodded, and turned away.
When: Earlier this week.
Where: Street
Ratings & Warnings: None.
Winter was so very, very yesterday. By habit, Silence was a creature of stillness, for stealth relied heavily upon maintaining exacting control over one's limbs. It was not the first time that he had been forced to wait out frozen hours under cover of darkness, but the assassin found himself rocking lightly back and forth on his feet in order to keep the blood pumping through them. He'd added a thorough layer of padding to the mask about his face in an attempt to keep the mist of his breath from showing on the air, and the heat from open-mouthed breathing also served to maintain a fragile grip on warmth.
A tiny, telltale scuff of boot to cobblestone told him that he was no longer alone, and his eyes clocked left, squinting until they picked out Hollis Bercator's slight silhouette against the gloom.
"The street suggests the Guard have reopened their case into your uncle's death," he said, foregoing a more traditional greeting.
Hollis raised an eyebrow, lifting the cobalt blue hood of her cloak up to cover that distinctive, reckless blonde hair. She'd not been prepared to be confronted with the assassin and hadn't set an appointment to see him. The blonde didn't seem annoyed; rather, she casually shifted her path further away from the center of the street, into the areas where the light was lost.
"... Yes, one of their junior guards is requesting a meeting," murmured the blonde calmly.
Considering the confirmation, Silence resisted the urge to rock upon his toes once more. He couldn't feel them, and that was usually a bad sign. People always underestimated the need for toes. You never saw a successful assassin or roof burglar with a toe missing. He pondered how much information Hollis was likely to give the investigator. If they were this far down the line and still had nothing, then it was unlikely she'd shopped him down the river last time. Nevertheless, she knew, and he knew she knew, and she knew he knew she knew that he had been the one hired to remove the earlier Bercators. He had to know if she was actively aiding the guards in their search - and if so, exactly how much help she was providing.
"Do we still have an agreement?"
Ah. So that was why he'd come. Hollis briefly contemplated asking: what agreement?, before reminding herself that assassins tended to have dark, nearly sociopathic senses of humor, and playing jokes on them usually had unintended consequences. "Of course," she said, calmly.
"My mother's health is taking a turn for the worse," added the blonde in an absent, idle way, as though the fact was of very little importance, and not a cover for the noose slowly tightening around her father's neck. "I wouldn't be surprised to see them relocate to warmer climes to preserve it."
If Lennox was being shipped out of town, it was unlikely that the Guard of Tyrol would follow him. It was likely for the best. With two sons coming into their majority both waiting for their inheritance to come around, Lennox would eventually see it wise that he step down before the steps were taken for him. Silence had not heard anything in particular about either Quinn or Lude being of that bent, but reputation would have it that all Bercators were of similar vein.
"My regards to your mother," he said, blandly. "How much do your brothers know?"
"Enough." Hollis said, and nothing more.
The assassin gave her a hard look. As much as he valued secrets, he did not like secrets being so vaguely passed around if they concerned him. Removing a second Bercator family would no doubt be as easy as removing the first, he consoled himself, and maintained calm. He nodded, and turned away.