With only a few hours left before show time for the Circus, there wasn't much left for Tristaan to do but fuss over his cravat and pretend he totally didn't enjoy a new set of clothes while keeping an eye out for trouble in the crowds slowly arriving. Unfortunately, the pretending part was practically impossible, even if he did his best not to let it show on his face. It was strangely nostalgic to be well-dressed, even if the last time the passive remembered owning anything remotely nice must have been from early in his childhood. That time period was a rather fuzzy spot in his memory, however, blurred by both dirty machinery and dusty traveling.

While wandering back toward the main tent from a careful, observant walk around the vendor yard, Tristaan realized he probably should've been keeping an eye out for the doctor. He hadn't been, but surely he would've have noticed the human had he seen him. Pausing to wordlessly shoo off a few young and rather rough-looking wick boys from one of the vendors who were still lingering and looking more than a little devious after a good half hour with a wave of his hands, the passive considered what else he could check off of his very short mental list in the next hour or so before he was more necessary.

Ivan had barely made it through the vendor yard in one piece. It seemed the exodus hadn't dampened the spirits of the wicks at all, somewhat like dousing a flame with alcohol. He'd never seen so many things onna stick, and some really had a lot of novelty value, though in many cases it was probably undesirable for the tongue to come in direct contact with the stick if purchased. Having fought back the remaining vendors with an onnastick (Ivan caved when he passed the deep-fried-hingle-onnastick) he made it to the staging area infront of the colourful main tent.

Ivan was on the lookout for Tristaan, but instead spotted a rather out of place looking galdor gentleman. Before he could figure out what an upper class galdor was doing standing alone and early for the show, he realised that he had found the man he was looking for.

"Tristaan, how do you do? Fion really did a rather good job, didn't she?"

"Oes, ya think?" The passive laughed, almost awkwardly, as if he didn't entirely know what to do with himself. It was either too much like reliving his childhood or pretending to be someone he was told he was never meant to bet; he wasn't sure which dressing nicely made him feel like more. Either way, he realized what kind of personal impact a simple change of clothes could have, on not only in his perspective but in others' reactions, field or no field.

"Although it's a humblin' experience t'have a clown teach you how't'tie a cravat, let me tell you." Tristaan shook his head, unable to contain a roguish grin, obviously entertained. He goaded a little, "So you're early ... but by yourself, doc?"

"Haha! To be a fly on the wall for that. Though I confess, if I'd brought a cravat, I'd have to ask the clown as well. Smart dress is a thing beyond me."

It was good that his accompaniment possessed a sense of humour - the trip was not going to be a short one.



"I am indeed and glad to find you by yourself. Do you have a moment to discuss business?"

A passive, a doctor, and a clown walked into a bar and ...

Tristaan smirked as he listened to Ivan's response. Surely, somewhere, they could be part of a ridiculous beginning to an equally ridiculous, if not slightly dangerous, joke.

"Oes; I've got plenty of time for some business talk. Walk 'round the main tent with me here one last time while we do so." He gestured with his hand. It was perhaps a little easier to maintain a certain level of confidential conversation if they kept moving, and it was close enough to show time that most of the Circus folk should be inside or getting ready, "What's on th'agenda, Ivan?"

Walking and talking was a wise move - enough people here were from the Harbour, and if a large enough snippet of conversation were to be overheard, their plans could be scuppered before they even set foot in the place.

Plus, it would be nice to have a chance to stretch his legs - Ivan was beginning to feel cooped up in his surgery with the great volume of visitors he was having, or perhaps the feeling was a side effect of his new invention.



"My preparations are made. I have some space reserved on a cargo ship, which leaves on the 2nd. Can you do the 2nd?
I'm bringing some counterfeit supplies with us, it could buy us some time at the other end, depending how things go."

Ivan was referring to the very genuine 12 keys of raw morphine he'd finished refining that afternoon.

"I can cover expenses for the entire trip easily, though we might not be staying in the nicest place. Being discrete is my main concern. For a couple of days we'll feel out the vein, see what's changed, when they're weak."

Tristaan's face belied the lump that formed in his stomach at Ivan's mention of a boat. He had no love for ships, and he was more than a little wary of even a short trip after his last one, employment or not.

He scowled a little, but only for a moment, "If I ent payin', I ent complainin', doc."

The passive chuckled, glancing sideways at the doctor, "Don't let th'clothes fool you. You're talkin' t'a man who's not legally allowed t'own property an' grew up in a labor house in th'Soot District; an' you think I've stayed in only nice places?" He mocked an offended scoff, but again revealed it was all in amusement. It was very hard to put him out, and his roguish grin made that obvious.

"Ne, Ivan, you'll impress me with a roof."

He shrugged, "I'm fine with th'second ..." He paused, studying some of the crowd around a particularly popular onnastick vendor as they made their conversational lap around the main tent, "I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't have plans after'ard, however. Sh-er-They can wait 'til our business is through, so long as I can promise t'make it back in one piece, ye chen?"

Ivan noticed Tristaan seemed a shade less enthusiastic, but perhaps it was just prudence. In any case there was no immediate reason he could see for the hesitation, so it went ignored.



Ivan grinned.

Good, I can't be dragging around a pansy.



"I can't tell you it won't be dangerous, because it is, and you know it is. It's an occupational hazard. What I can tell you is that if we do it properly, we'll get out without a scratch, and you wont need to do oddjobs for at least as long as it takes for it all to blow over. 'Doing it properly' means following my lead though, even if you are a guide.
Tell me, have there been any noticable changes recently at the harbour? Anything big that might have shaken up the vein?"

The passive considered the human's subtle reminder that he had he advantage of knowledge and experience in their potentially profitable and possibly painful adventure. He had the sinking feeling in his chest that the doctor knew a lot more than he was letting on, which only reminded him to be more than just a little cautious. The danger part was unfortunately not as worrying; Tristaan rather enjoyed some of the risk.

He liked the idea of not having to work for a while afterward as well, for reasons that were at least obvious to himself. It would be a nice excuse to enjoy the festival on Surwood, at least, with or without injury.

Tristaan smirked, almost defensively, "You're askin' the wrong kov, doc. I ent been payin' too much attention to th'Brother's work, well ... as much as I can. It's hard t'avoid hearin' bits'n'pieces when you live in th'Harbor an' work as I do. Somethin's been upsettin' their flow'o'profits, but that's about all I know. I'm sure we can find out more if you need to, however."

Ivan stopped walking for a moment, a thought and an idea forming.

"Intterupted profits you say? Interesting...Silas will not be happy about that. Do you know any specifics? That'll be a good starting point for our research. If we're talking rival gangs, we may even be able to fix things so you won't have to lie low at all."

"Epaemo, but that's all I know. I ent really been in th'Harbor that long, an' I'm not one t'keep anyone close enough t'have those kind of connections." Tristaan admitted, not sure whether his honesty required an apology or not.

"I believe you know a lot more than I do 'bout all this, an' while I can understand that there's bits'n'pieces you'd rather keep t'yourself ..." The passive smirked; everyone had secrets, after all, "There'll come a time when you'll have t'decide whether or not I'm worth trustin'. I can't get your back if I don't know where you're standin', ye chen?"

He let his words hang there for a moment, the din of the crowd and the glare of the colorful atmosphere surrounding them. He meant it.

"That said, doc, what'cha thinkin'?"

Being unconnected can have its advantages, too.



Ivan had to give him something, keeping Tristaan in the dark as to Ivan's thoughts made him less trusting.

"Well put. Alright, here's my thoughts so far, though it depends greatly on wether or not a rival gang is in operation at the Harbour.
We hole up somewhere discrete, take in the 'culture' and get some gangland types talking - I know one or two good spots for that, and I've yet to meet a thug that wasn't chatty after a few shots of magma. Then, you'll be buying small quantites of ope all over town. From the quality of the poppy I can tell the source. If there is a rival gang in operation, they'll be spreading a different seed, in a manner of speaking.
I'll be watching the buys - if I remember their signals right, I'll be able to tell when there's a shortage, and hence a shipment. We can intercept it near a rival neighbourhood, then make the delivery at the other end with our fake goods for the money, which will buy us time.
The rival gang takes the heat and we get out scot free, or we double our money by selling the real meds to them instead, depending how lucky you're feeling. If you really want to push it, we could tell the Bad Brothers what we know about the other vien, if things have gone to plan to that point. It'd get me off the hook with 'em, and might earn you some points, if you're looking for a well paid steady gig after all this."

Maintaining two complicated plans in his head was starting to get the better of Ivan, and the strain was beginning to show.

"Lotta variables, I know. That's why I haven't been telling you much so far - plans gotta remain flexible, and I can see a lot's gonna change, depending on what we find when we're there. Anything I decide for sure I'll tell you, you can be assured of that.
A stiff tree will snap in a gale, a supple one will flex, no matter which way the wind blows."

The passive listened carefully, but had to admit that this was certainly something more complicated than he had expected. It was not simply escorting; it was espionage and much, much more. Some of what Ivan had described made his head spin a little, only he found he had no idea where to start asking questions. It might even had been better not to delve deeper than he had to; there were some tactical advantages to being in the dark. The doctor evidently had quite an interesting history, and Tristaan was perceptive enough to pick up on the idea that some of his life had at one time overlapped with the activities he was seeking to mess with.

Ultimately, however, he knew he simply had to trust that he had enough of a brain, in addition to a more than decent enough sword arm, to deal with whatever came up.

Exhaling slowly through his teeth, he managed a wry grin, "I see a bit more clearly what I signed on for." Sort of.

He realized he had already been offered a steady job, in some ways, from a far prettier prospect, but he also knew that those plans would attract the attention of the Bad Brothers enough as it was, all be it in a very different genre of activity. In that respect, he had some leverage of his own and had at least considered the idea of offering himself as an employed go-between in addition to bodyguard of sorts.

Besides, the passive had come to the slow conclusion that a good deal of what he really wanted in his life was currently illegal or at least very, very dark gray enough as it was. Walking that line was already somewhere he was beginning to get used to, even if it occasionally made his heart ache for change.

"I'ppreciate th'insight." Tristaan admitted, "An' I'd have t'agree that remainin' flexible's important, on many levels at that."

Almost as an afterthought, he ventured quietly, "Tell me one more thing, doc, if you don't think I'm crossin' a line here ... Is this personal? Or, could it become so?"

"Well that all depends, wether or not Bad Mother will be making an appearance. If so, it could get very personal, very quickly."

Ivan didn't want to go much further down this road of questioning, so he brought the conversation to a head.

"Alright, well I'm going to get something else onnastick, I'll seeyou inside. Remember, at the dock, 2nd of Bethas, 15 o'clock. My advice is to travel light, but then I guess you know your travel better than I do."

Ivan tapped his head and pointed two fingers to Tristaan as way of salute, then turned toward the waft of marinated dead things on sticks.