Murmur followed Seth, trying to keep up with his stride at least, her face set and serious- Murmur understood that now was not in any way the time for joking around. She knew of course where Seth would lead her, after a few moments- it was her part of town and this was a well trodden path- a seven year old Murmur with a lisp peering into pubs hoping to catch sight of Lena Muck somewhere amongst the drunken crowd 'Mithter, 'ave ye stheen my muvva?" and then much later, an older, drunker Murmur stumbling back home the same way.

The air in the book and bell was slightly subdued, but Murmur did not pick up on it as much as she would have done at her most astute, instead she focused on the buzzing in her stomach and selecting a place to sit.

Murmur was not particularly worried about privacy, a human man and a woman entering a bar and then choosing a secluded spot to talk quietly to one another was never going to be out of the ordinary, and as long as they were careful and didn't speak explicitly, then they should be fine.

She sat down, perching on the seat with her knees curled behind her body, "We should get drinks in. No deal breakers or nothin', I'm gonna have a small nipper of rum I think, an' ye, Kitten?" She rapped on the table carefully, looked around before saying in a low voice, "An' then ye gotta tell me what ye know. How this works an' stuff...coz I'm dead serious about it."

"Still a bit early for something strong, eh?" He chuckled, "I think a Green Madhouse should do nicely... As for Rita, a simple beer would suffice." He grinned at the cat as she slid down his arm to sit atop the table and purr at him expectantly- her way of asking to be pet, a request to which he complied, "I know, Rita, but it's a bit early for something special." He rubbed the cat's cheeks with his thumbs, his index fingers scratching her ears as she purred into his hands, a loud, happy rumble.



He leaned forward a little, speaking quietly, "Honestly, I think you should give that order to the barmaid, over there- Rum Ginny." He winked, "Just don't be too obvious or she might bite your head off." And in a lower voice, "Never know who's listening, ya?" He leaned back again, reclining, and speaking in a normal tone, "Don't expect anything too adventurous, first hand. That is, Vienda's not quite as exciting as Old Rose, I shouldn't think."

"Ye think I'm in it fer the adventure?" asked Murmur cooly, rather offended by Seth's last comment at her "Coz I ent. I know this ent a game an' I don't care if they 'ave me doin' the most borin thing in the world, I'll make tea an' polish boots an' I'll be happy wiv it."

But she did as she was told, standing up and walking over to the bar muttering to Seth as she went, "Just cuz I'm orderin' yer drink doesn't mean I'm payin' fer it ye know.

The wick barmaid was familiar to Murmur, though she'd obviously grown up a lot since Murmur had been in town- which youngsters were prone to do. She smiled and rested on the bar, tapping with a childish energy, "Hesta," she nodded at the bargirl, keeping things as natural as possible, "Lessee, my friend wants a Green Madhouse, feel free te spit in it or summat," she said in ear-shot of her companion, turning around to pull a face to show she was joking and had forgiven Seth for his last comment.

"The cat wants a beer- best not te ask about that, really. An' do ye still do that good rum, what comes in the colorful glass? That were my favorite when I was wee."

Ginny had saucers handy - plenty of weird folk came into the tavern, and plenty of them had cats and dogs that demanded equal treatment. She shrugged and pulled out all the necessary ingredients as she spoke.

"Good glasses got broke," she said, sounding sullen and worried for some reason. "But we got rum still. Not much left, so it'll cost ye."

Glancing up, she narrowed her eyes and stared at Murmur.

"Hey, I remember you from somewhere," she said, tllting her head to one side. "You from these parts?"

"Serves me right fer buyin' a fancy drink," said Murmur with a shrug, thrusting her hand into her bosom to where she kept her warm coin purse and checking she had enough. It was indicative of just how much she drank and the quality of what she drank that Murmur considered straight rum to be one of the more flamboyant alcoholic beverages, "shoulda gone with just the rubbin' alcohol, but i suppose it's early."


"Born an' bred," said Murmur proudly, not surprised she'd been remembered, being half mugrobi and raised in anaxas she'd always managed to stand out like a sore thumb, even in a sea of her own siblings- she sometimes wondered if it wasn't the only reason her mother had been able to tell her apart from the rest of her offspring.

"Probably 'ad a hand or two in breakin' some of them good glasses. Got a knack fer gettin into fights," she pointed to her red eye, still fresh and raw from colliding with that idiot wick, Jerome Cougar or whatever his name was' fist. "Murmur Muck. Had a fish shop round this way, but I ent got it no more," Murmur shrugged, looking around carefully, lowering her voice "but what can ye do when the gollies are settin' taxes so high? Had te leave it, went te Old Rosie...but I got convinced te come back by him over there," she waved her hand at Seth. "So now I'm back in Vienda and cravin' a good ol' Viendan drink, the kind ye don't get in Old Rosie- what doesn't have broken glass an' an eyeball in it."

Ginny broke into the first genuine smile she's had in days.

"Murmur, oes, I remember you all right," she said, chuckling. "You was here the night Billy Ray got his head wedged in the railin'. T'was you what suggested the fish oil. Probably saved his damn life. Stu was about ready to...chop his head off..." She trailed off, looking a little forlorn.

Then, as if the lights came back on, she grinned and turned around. "Got yer drinks comin' right up," she said. "Although, don't rightly know why anyone'd return to this gods-forsaken city, chap or none. Must be a mighty persuasive man."

"He were an idiot, was Billy," giggled Murmur, "shoulda let Stu tek it off, mighta been kinder, I never seen a person more likely te get something stuck somewhere at any one point. He still come in here?"



"I...no, no, no" she said, her eyes going slightly round with horror, "Ye think... me an Kitten?" she laughed a little, her laugh littered with incredulity , "we ent like that...friends is all, we got each other looked out fer an' nothin' more .Sides, I reckon he's a bloke that likes a full set o' teeth an' that just ent me," she tapped her gappy smile, and there was even an element of pride in the fact that she had spoiled her good looks so entirely.

Looking around the bar Murmur leaned forward slightly and tapped on the table, "Anyway I got better things te do than end up jus bein' someone's woman. That's why I'm back. I hear things, about the fish business- an' how human's have been servin' gollies more often, givin em what they deserve," she looked around the bar and tapped again. "Kitten tells me he knows what he's talkin' about an' says nows the time te come back an' do my part. He seems te think ye know a bit about it, though what a barmaid would know about fish I ent sure about."

Ginny grinned and shrugged when Murmur denied any type of relationship with Seth. Sure, she thought, whatever you say...

Her face became more serious, however, when Murmur mentioned...fish.

"Y'know where you are, chip?" she asked incredulously. "We're practically a fishin' pond in this joint. Look around."

She gestured indirectly to the rest of the room.

Even though many of the corners of the room were dark, Murmur could see people lurking at shadowy tables. They did not look suspicious; quite the opposite, actually. They looked terribly normal, bored even. But on close inspection, their expressions seemed to carry a great weight. Scars as wide as barber's strops marred the faces and hands of more than one of these grey men, and their posture spoke of great strength beneath a beaten, subservient facade.

"Now, I don't normally trust out o' towners," said Ginny flatly, "but seein' as you're familiar to me, I feel we might speak a bit more plainly, ye chen?"

Murmur nodded, "Just so 'appens plain talking is my favorite. So listen, I heared about what's been goin' on an' I want in on it," she said simply, "figure I ent got much more te lose than a coupla molars. My ma's dead an' I ent got no shop no more, so with no family an' no prospects ent like a human like me got a lotta years left. I know what I could be lettin' meself in for but I might as well find some way te leave me own special stain on the city, even if it's a small one."

She waited for her rum with a determined little laugh, "the only person I know involved- an he'll vouch fer me so ye know I'm serious- says ye can get me started in the right direction. It'd be mighty appreciated, Ginny."

By adding the last sentance, Murmur found herself more polite than she had been in her entire life, in an odd way she felt kind of 'unclean' and wanted to spit somewhere to make herself feel better. But she refrained, instead choosing to tap on the bar hopefully and tried to look as competent as possible.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Who'd that be, then?" she asked, casually. It wasn't every day that someone recommended her for anything resistance-related; after all, she was just the Gatekeeper, and she'd only been THAT for a few days. Most people didn't even know yet. They were expecting Stu to return...

Despite the fact that they were talking about such top-secret things, Ginny felt she could trust Murmur. It wasn't just the layer of scum on her, or the way she looked like she'd been beaten down enough in life to start her own army in revenge, or the fact that she recognized her. There was just no way Ginny could believe that someone could have gotten to Murmur. She wasn't the type of person the gollies would hire to infiltrate the resistance. Too smelly, for one; too unusual for another. No...the best infiltrators were normal as they came. Quiet. Patient. Average.

Besides, Ginny liked Murmur, almost immediately. Bad way to run a Gate, probably, but she'd sold enough drinks in her time to be a fairly good judge of character, or so she thought.

"Jus Kitt- I mean Seth Richards," she said with a shrug, wondering if he had some kind of codename that she didn't know- it would make sense to Murmur, not using a person's real name when talking about resistance stuff.

It wouldn't be this easy of course, Murmur assumed, she'd probably be shunted about have to do a task to prove she was worthy or not a spy, Ginny wouldn't be the final say in the matter- as much as Murmur hoped she would be, she was far too young.

When she was younger her brothers had told her stories about the resistance, mostly in attempt to frighten their little sister- about losing digits to prove your allegiance and wrestling chroves and bathing in kenser poo. It hadn't scared her then- outside of the water very little had scared the young Muck girl and they certainly didn't now. After all, kenser poo was a piece of cake to Murmur.

"So I tek it that means ye can help me?" she said, leaning on the bar and trying to master the casual manner that Ginny had achieved, though her eyes * grew round and hopeful, and though her appearance had been slightly haggard by dirt and facial beatings, the flush of hope had the affect of taking off a far few of her twenty years. "Ye can tell me where I need te go, what kind of question I need te be askin and to who, yeah?"

*note: at this point, Murmur was having difficulty opening her freshly punched eye all the way, so eye singular would probably be more appropriate

Ginny had several fresh scraps of paper in her pocket; she pulled out one of them, and a stub of graphite, and quickly scrawled a message down. It was an address.

"Now add one to each o' these numbers," she said, not bothering to keep her voice down; whispers were more obvious than a quiet voice, in case anyone was listening. She had written four-one-eight, and so, following those instructions, Mumur would have to go to five-two-nine Elberry Lane. "Ask for Granny."

She glanced up at Seth Richards.

"Yeah, I reckon I recognize him too," she said, remembering a nervous witch with purple and green hair. "Bring him along. Bad neighborhood, but no one'll bother you, they only go after gollies."