[SE] the sound of trouble ringing

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

The port is bustling as much as usual, the din of conversation and bartering making it easy to melt into the crowd. A regular of the area, most people don't pay her any attention, and she doesn't attract it today. She's focused instead on the bulging pockets of those around her, the darkness of her thick cloak disguising the nimble fingers beneath. 

Her eyes flicker momentarily to the woman next to her, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she says casually, "You know, thieves practice stealing from jackets with bells tied to them. They have to be smooth and quick to get their loot without making a sound." The subtle smirk on her lips suggests she's had some practice with this method, her eyebrow raising in a quiet question that spells trouble.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

COLT

Well life's got a lot of sticks and stones
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long

Colt might have a lot of vices and bars that fit varying heights on the plains of morality, some of which are prone to changing, for better or worse. Thieving though, has never been her preference. Might be all the cattle rustling she's had to deal with over the years that's soured the idea for her, that and an unwavering pride for a job well done.

She won't stop Thalassa from wearing sticky fingers, but there's a level of judgement she's trying to bring to heel as she glances sidelong at the ancient. "Y'know I'm trying to keep a low profile here," Colt huffs faintly in response to the temptation Thal tries to dangle. "Last thing I need is to give Flora a reason to show me a tour of the jail cell."

Of course, thievery has about as much history in most regions as bartending and whoring. Where there are coin purses, there are people happy to relieve the weight of them from another's belt. On a list of shit for a region to care about, especially once as large as Torchline, some simple slight of hand would be low on the list.

So, if you got a fire, don't lose it
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

Stuffing her itchy fingers into her pockets, Thal lets out a heavy, dejected sigh. "You're no fun," she complains, shifting her attention from tempting marks to the stalls and their wares. They glitter in between gaps in people's bodies, bells of various shapes and sizes having taken over the majority of what's being sold in the port. 

Thal bumps Colt gently in the shoulder, a movement that might have been missed in the jostling of the crowd if she hadn't paired it with a teasing grin. "And I've heard the jail cells are very comfortable. You'll make lots of friends there." Shooting her a wink, the pirate captain sidles up to a booth that catches her eye. It's sporting dark and rustic looking bells, very different from glittering monstrosities attacking people's sight. Her fingers immediately reach out to brush against the blackened surface of a metal bell.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

COLT

Well life's got a lot of sticks and stones
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long

Having expected some scoffing from Thal who'd find her reach undeterred, whereupon Colt would pretend never to have met her were she to get caught, at least until Colt could arrange some manner of jailbreak later, she is surprised at how easily Thal gives up the allure of pilfering pockets. Perhaps proof that the draw is as much a boredom filler as any, the call to being a clepto more like a game than a need, which all the more reason Colt thinks.

"I know, I'm the worst," she grins in return, concern dropping away cleanly into tease. Her shoulders loosen a bit from their tight perch, but she's still marching on a few eggshells being back in Torchline. Her meeting with Flora is later, so shopping seems like the best use than idly waiting and letting her mind run off with dangerous thoughts.

As Thal bumps her, affection woven into the gesture, Colt glances sidelong at her with a laugh dragging free of her chest. "That's like saying a toilet makes a great chair." Comfort and jail don't really go together. She shakes her faintly, the sound of humor dying out with a fond sigh as she follows suit not far behind Thalassa to the vendor's booth.

"Don't tell me you're going for the servant-calling hand bell," Colt interjects as her eyes glide over the dark version of a bell Thal reaches for. "This is much more suited to you," she decides, plucking up a strand of small bells fitted to a fabric cord. Colt holds it aloft, draped over both arms, the faint tinkling carrying out in various forms as the little bells shift. "Wrap this around your horns, or your tail? Quite the statement."

So, if you got a fire, don't lose it
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

Thal shrugs her shoulder, a grin forming as she asks sarcastically, "You're still sitting aren't you?" 

But she doesn't bother continuing with the joking line of conversation, instead distracted by Colt's comparison of her choice in bells. Her eyebrows raise, genuinely curious as to what in the hell the woman's talking about. "'Servant-calling'? What's that supposed to mean?" She can't even fathom enough of a suspicion to guess at the meaning, already prepared to roll her eyes at the stretched connection to something about her personality. 

Then her eyes fall on the sad string of bells, scoffing lightly. "The ones I have for my horns are much nicer than that." She'd worn them to a few events, the silver chain and tiny bells twinkling like starlight in her hair. As for her tail... Thal would prefer not to. 

Without waiting for Colt to try and sway her opinion, she chooses the black bell with a dark blue ribbon, silver embossed flames licking up the side. Containing her sticky fingers, she reluctantly hands over a few coins before slipping it into her pocket then looks to her friend with a raised brow. "What are you getting?"

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

COLT

Well life's got a lot of sticks and stones
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long

The eyeroll threatens to unbalance Colt in response. Still sitting doesn't deserve any further acknowledgement, her features falling as flat as someone playing dead to avoid a bear maul, except terrible humor is not nearly as deadly.

"You know," Colt encourages, picking one such bell up and tinkling it faintly. "You ring it in your house and a servant comes trotting over to attend your need." A bit like channeling, if she bothered to draw the comparison. Not that the demigods serve the channels, exactly, but it is a divine hand bell that ends in fulfillment of some sort. "I mean, what else would these be for? Put one in every room so you're only ever one ring away from all you could ever want." She shrugs, not making a statement beyond they're boring.

When Thal shoos away her offered strand of bells, foregoing the much more exciting option, Colt reluctantly returns them. Not having a horn or tail to decorate, she briefly considered wrapping them around her wrist, or perhaps her belt, but opts for the original item that caught her eye as Thal pays for hers.

Her lips quirk a little at Thal's query, and while she fully expects the ancient to fail to appreciate her selection, it doesn't deter Colt from reaching out and claiming the one she wants. "A cow bell, of course." She holds up the rectangular bit of metal, knocking it so that its deep and rich bellow of sound comes forth.

So, if you got a fire, don't lose it
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

Thal watches Colt ring the dainty bell, having heard of such nonsense in passing. But it takes everything in her to picture her in that situation, trying and failing to imagine herself lounging in a frilly dress, beckoning someone to adjust the curtain where the sun has deigned to assault her gaze. Pastries strewn around her, ribbons woven in her hair. Everything soft and easy in a way that she's never come close to experiencing. 

Her lips form a playful sneer of disgust at the thought, already knowing the answer when she asks, "Is that what you take me for? A lazy priss who needs a bell to get people to do her bidding?" She raises a dark brow, a teasing accusation forming when she adds, "Or are you saying you want one?" Colt strikes her as the kind of person who likes the idea of others pampering her but wouldn't be able to handle sitting still long enough for someone to pour her a cold glass of anything. One of the many things they seem to have in common. 

When Colt presents her own choice, Thal's eyes alight with a silent 'Of course' and 'I should have known' as she shakes her head, settling for a single word that says it all. "Typical." But she can't hide the fond laughter that caresses the syllables, not because Colt is predictable, but because Thal feels that she knows her well enough to have guessed anyways. 

Regardless, she settles her hands in her pockets, waiting patiently for the rancher to purchase her cow bell so they can move on.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

COLT

Well life's got a lot of sticks and stones
And a blade that'll cut you to the bone
But if you're doing what you love and it kills you
Well, you can live with that all day long

Colt snorts at the very idea of Thal being inclined to just pour herself over a seat and tinkle for assistance. "No," she whines, shoving into Thal faintly for being so hard headed. "All I meant is that style of bell is used for that and it's boring when you could have a whole bell belt or something instead." The hand bells were otherwise impressive table weights if not beckoning someone to run over and deposit grapes in your mouth. "Although you already bought it so if you're really just trying to cover up how lazy you are on your ship, I'll be listening for proof." Suffice to say, she best not jostle her bell too heavily when she returns home or Colt will be nearby and assume she's ordering about her crew in the least scallywag way possible.

A fine thing to turn being waited on into the downside of the joke here, but with both women independent enough to be annoying about it, the idea of such frailty as being unable to serve herself her own drink is not appealing. "It is nice to visit a spa and experience it once in a while," Colt confesses a bit quietly. This, of course, coming from someone who has been to a spa maybe a total of twice. Enough so that it could just be considered a form of roleplaying, little more than a role to pick up and then putb back for a few hours.

Unruffled by the accusation of predictability and routine, Colt doesn't let Thal sway her choice any more than she had done to the pirate captain. "I like the way they sound," she admits with a small shrug, and there's more vulnerability packed into that statement than she even meant or realized. Truth be told, it's a little bit of homesick in that sound, so she hands it over like a choice prize to the merchant to pay for it. Exchanging some coin for the bell, Colt tucks it under her arm and breathes in, the errand complete.

"C'mon, let's go get a drink," she murmurs, pulling Thal along with her towards where she knows one of the nearby little bar shacks is.

[FIN]

So, if you got a fire, don't lose it
If you got a do-or-die dream, do it
If you got somethin' to prove, go on and prove it
If it's in your blood, fallin' down ain't enough
Gettin' back up, that's the only backup plan you need