3729/Can't go home no

Can't go home no
Date of Scene:	07 October 2020
Location:	New Orleans
Synopsis:	I no work for ya, yes you do. Only time will tell between Slips and Remy.
Cast of Characters:	Remy LeBeau, Slips

---

Remy LeBeau has posed:
New Orleans: Mid Day

Home is where the heart dies; for some of us for others, it's where it flourishes. But for one Remy, it is both the best and the worst place in his life, first love yes, first woman yes, training to be a thief yes, first murder yes, never come back, or kill triple yes.

But that doesn't stop the Remy, as he is walking down the street, ducking into a black market entrance, sliding down the rail, as he leaps into the room, rolling along the floor, as he hits the code on the floor, dropping into the sewer.

But this is a Bazar packed with tents, things for sale, crime is not allowed down here. For when everyone is a criminal or a killer, one does not shat where ya eat, so to speak, as he moves through the tents, examining items, picking them up as he moves to his preferred tent, where lovely Lila works, old friend and maybe more but that is the past. He was here to buy information on a missing kid, hoping it will be in and out.

Slips has posed:
It's a bitch of a time tracking this kid, and Slips has been around long enough to know, a lot longer than the elderly body she's borrowing (in a sense) would allow anyone to believe.  New Orleans was the easy part.  It was just digging through all the new shit heel street hustlers that have popped up since Slips has been in this town.  Getting decent information feels more like a relay race than getting shit done.

"Need to take a piss," the old fence grumbles as he gets up from his desk.  His desk is really just a table tucked back into one of the stalls.  Apparently this is an often enough occurrence not to earn any attention from the cronies of this guy.  What's in the stalls?  Nothing he's fencing.  It's just junky tourist jewelry with the state of Louisiana incorporated in every single piece.

SlipsFence disappears a step or two between his tent and Lila's poor tent, but pauses when he sees Remy.  "What you lookin' for son?"

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"I'm looking for a man with a brain, and Johnson we both know dat aint' you, no?" Remy moves past the man as he moves towards Lila, the information paid for a txt telling him to come collect, that easy and that simple.

The package is taken now, as he slides it into his long coat, with a nodding of his head, moving through the crowd past Lila, but he is heading down an alley, one that is used to examine goods, as he turns reaching a dead end, he leans against the wall, flicking it open getting ready to read, he is safe here right.

Slips has posed:
"You're right about that."  SlipsFence gives out a bit of a belly laugh and then grabs his crotch for a scratch, "Got way more balls than brain my friend."  And so he begins to whistle a little tune as he takes care of some urgent business.

Slips steps from the shadows into another skin, one of a thousand faces around these parts.  At the corner, she pulls out a cigarette pack and lights up.  Suddenly, she lifts her hand, pulling down a white mask that was never there before.  It hinges off a white cap.

"Mr. LeBeau."  There's only one person who wears that mask.  In the Thieves Guild, it's merely called the white mask.  Someone seldom seen outside of Council meetings.  Someone whose power comes just as much from her anonymity as it does her skills.  No one knows how old she is.  No one knows if she is even really a she, but for the sake of everyone's sanity, everyone just says she it seems.  She's the monster that will come and get you in the middle of the night.  Only she's real.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
As Remy is reading, his eyes moving upwards slowly, as he looks at that mask a look of fear, pure fear is over his face. His coat is flings open, plunging the paperwork into his hidden pocket as he starts to scale the wall, quickly kick to kick to kick to kick, as he lands at the top of the wall, he is running now along the high wall of the swears."No dis is bad, Remy run! Need to get outta here, I think there was an exit no."

His right hand is reaching out now to grab on to a ring, swinging his body forward, as he launches himself upwards now inside of a small dark tunnel, his body is cramped as he is crawling now, as he is leaving the tunnel, standing now on the street next to a cemetery, as he pants softly.

That large iron gate blocking the world of the dead, one of the few abandon cemeteries, outside of the city now, as he swings his arm his Bo-Staff extended now, she will be coming.

Slips has posed:
Oh look there he goes.  Slips' mask cants as she watches the man scale the wall.  "Way too fucking old for this shit..." she looks up the wall and sighs.  She watches him, takes a drag off her cigarette.  It's not even halfway done for, which apparently is the decider.  She's going to walk.

Remy is totally safe.  He could even get the jump on her if he wanted to try!  Slips is so slow!  As she walks down the alley toward the street that the cemetery is off of, her cigarette swirls up into a drippy ice cream cone, her body balloons out, each step wider than the last until she looks like a chubby overgrown eleven year old.

"That's so rude.  Look.  If I were you, I would have done the same thing." is that kid talking on some kind of bluetoothy thing? Or to him?  Where?  "She's a useless fat-fingered cow," which is something altogether different to a thief.

The boy comes to a stop, far enough away that he can't get swiped by the staff.  He pulls up a white mask again, his face twisting and fading into that blank surface of the mask as it slides up, revealing just another face.  A woman's.  Nondescript.  Eyes with secrets long forgotten.

She has revealed her art to the young thief, a secret he will surely go to his grave with.  She is a shifter.  "You work for me now."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Shit, shit shit...." Remy is about to leap the fence, but that kid is there with a sigh watching him, as he knows it in his bones what is coming, as he exhales the smoke slowly into the air.

As he takes out a cigarette clove, dark paper between his lips. His fingers lighting it with a flick of a cheap bic, as his eyes watching her for a moment."I'm no longer with your group; ya told me to leave, so I did, no. I have found a new group, a better group, and I like dem. I don't like you so bye bye bye, nice seeing ya. Maybe next family meeting we can wave and smile, and get the fuck away from each other, no."

Slips has posed:
Slips' visage twists into an ironic grin that fades quickly.  "They make you feel all warm and fuzzy and safe.  They make you feel good about yourself and your place in the world?  Good.  Because you won't get it from me."

Slips chuckles lightly.  "Yeah.  I'm pretty aware you're not in the Guild.  I voted on it.  Joining up with the assassins is folly," this said by someone who is more likely than anyone in the Thieves Guild to take a life, and the one who is most forgiven.  "...and with a marriage is just asking for a 50% chance of the pact going to shit anyways."  Divorce stats.  I'm not asking you to be a part of the Thieves Guild.  I'm informing you that you work for me.  I will be in contact."

Slips isn't listening.  She turns, deciding the meeting is over.  "I've got a lot more lives than just the Thieves' Guild."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" Remy is screaming at her as she is fading, into the shadows moving out of there, as he moves forward his cigrette it flicked towards her in rage."FUCK! Fuck your job, fuck your life!"

Remy is moving forward, his hand is pulling out his phone to send off a txt to someone, that might have to save his ass.

"I am no-one little worker but my own, so fuck off!"

Slips has posed:
That whistle.  A cheery jaunty thing.  Aged out of living memory.  "I'll be seeing you!"  It's more eerie than the first goodbye, like a calling card that wormed its way into existence.