Jasper was pacing back and forth in the storage area of Shook's apothecary, and trying to think very hard. Thinking wasn't one of his strong suits, and it didn't help that the storage area was cluttered with boxes and boxes so that his attempt at pacing was also severely limited.

Jasper was very good at keeping things orderly with the brothers, and making sure they all came in separately, and secret things were being kept secret-- except he'd messed up. He was pretty sure one of the Drain's people had taken one of their bigger shipments away.

But it's impossible. He had the paper, and the code, and the password!

And yet one of the shipments was still missing. Remses himself had come to yell at him for it, and if Parrot hadn't been there watching his back, he was sure the man would have killed him. Remses was one scary, pockmarked son of a bitch.

And I probably shouldn't have said that out loud last night either.

Jasper let out a long, frightened breath and moved his hand up to feel the bruise he'd gotten for that particular remark. He couldn't see any way out of it. After Remses had left, Jasper had gone out to see if anyone could tell him anything and the only information that seemed likely was about one Mr. Kathis who was suddenly being incredibly stingy about letting people into his house near the Widow's district. But he wasn't even sure. And he had no way to get in with Kathis and his gods forsaken daughter in the house at the same time.

Besides the fact that the house was rumored to be haunted, those two individuals were creepy. There was just something about Kathis that Jasper, and really most of Old Rose, didn't like. And in a place like the Harbour, that meant bad things.

Jasper sat down and put his head in his hands, muttering curses. They didn't make him feel any better.

The rain was coming down in a fine mist this morning, shrouding the way and turning the cobblestone cracks to mud gutters. The musty walls of the apothecary would be a welcome respite today, as Havek had no love of the muggy fog settling thick over the Harbor. Somewhere in him, in the very Mugrobi bit at his core, quailed with superstition. Fog spoke of lost ships and ill omen. The weakly populated roads made him think on abandoned towns. In spite of himself, Havek found himself shuffling quicker than usual on the last block to the shop. The sooner out of the mist, the better.

He swung the door open quietly as possible, easing it shut on the curious weather. Havek leaned back against it, willing the faint buzz from his skin, hands stroking the bag's damp leather for comfort. He stilled his thoughts, hauled down the earthy smell of the shop, basked for a moment in the silence.

...silence?

His eye fluttered open, squinted, roved about the front room. There was no other body to be seen. A hand hovered up to smooth over the jittering muscle in his cheek, and there his fingers rested. He quietly reminded himself that the Harbour wasn't going to get lost in a storm or set off course, that no one would starve or die because of a bit of low hanging cloud. His boots rested on solid ground. There was no danger, no portent of pain. He was safe, all alone in the dim-lit damp of the apothecary.

Yet still out of courtesy his voice to leaped to his lips, frustratingly soft as if it were worried to disturb the quiet.

“Any other soul about?”

"You're in early." Parrot said in that quiet voice of his. He was sitting near the 'useless things' shelves and had a rather large book in his hand. He was also wearing a pair of spectacles. It was rather dark in the room and it was a wonder Parrot could see the writing at all. In the dark, and the cold, the front of the apothecary looked much less welcoming than it usually did. The air was so humid that even though it wasn't freezing out, Parrot's breath could be seen.

"Jasper's in th'back. Might want t'go see check in with 'im, else he'll say ye were here late." His voice seemed entirely too soft for that of a grown man, and it slid through the air almost in parallel to how quiet Havek's voice was. His motives weren't entirely altruistic-- Jasper always liked to talk to people when he was down, and Parrot...well...Parrot didn't. Shook wasn't here yet, most likely because of his rheumatism. The storms and the humidity always made it so much worse. Parrot often wondered why the old wick wanted to live in the Harbour at all.

But the answer always came to him easily: because it was home.

Havek hovered in the doorway for a moment, unsure. A soft chuckle crept up his throat, but died in his mouth like a curious bark. A rare smile tugged at his lips. It was almost funny, seeing such a large man materialize out of the dark. Fingertips ghosted over his eyelid, wondering just how much fuzzier his vision was going to get before it finally dimmed and died.

“Right, right,” he muttered, shuffling across the floorboards. Though he could scarcely hear Parrot at all, the quiet voice was comforting. If he'd been startled by anything louder, he might've jumped out of his skin. The fog, the darkness, the cold. It was an ominous morning already.

He eased upon the door to the back. There were much too many boxes for him to wander in without fear of breaking something, so he settled for owlishly peeking around the doorframe. The light seemed even scarcer here, so squint all he wanted, Havek could barely see the young man at all.

“Jasper, sir? I...Parrot suggested I ought to...ah. I'm here.” The words were quiet and fast. He reviled the apothecary's...whatever-he-was, and the feeling was obviously mutual. Havek had no desire to linger back here with him; he'd much rather be curled up in the front of the shop waiting around for no one to come in with quiet, harmless, massive Parrot. Parrot who he gave the willies. Parrot who didn't seem to want to smash him like a cockroach.

"Yeah!? Well fat lot o'good that's doin' me!" Jasper screeched, looking up. His eyes were quite red because he'd been rubbing them in thought. Havek might have noticed his voice was more pinched than usual. Jasper was stressed, and more than that, he was scared.

"You get th'clockin' easy gods curst job while I'm here with my god damned neck on the line bringin' in th'only money Shook gets! D'ye SEE any fockin' customers?!" The man looked as if he were about ready to tear his hair out. Even though for the most part his job was enjoyable, it was quite thankless. Shook seemed to give off the appearance that he could care less if Jasper came or went, as long as he didn't steal or break anything and as long as he could keep the apothecary in its current condition in the front.

"No?! That's cos their ent none! Two people! That's all I need! Two gods curst, spit upon, pissed upon, smelly, ugly, people." And when he said that he realized it was true. A plan blossomed into his mind like a flower, but faster. Jasper would have said it hadn't blossomed, it had exploded.

"Say. Yer a man!"

He didn’t do well at all around loud voices and emotions. When the tirade started, he wanted to slink away, cover his ears, pretend to hear nothing. But there he lingered in the doorway, silent and placid. Strange and strained words to, talk of necks on the line and money that left him feeling unnerved as the fog roiling outside. All of it stoked up the memory of only one word, quick becoming familiar as it was ominous:

Brother.

He’d heard it in sharp anecdotes on the sea, always with eyes on distant waves seeking dark ships. It made merchant captains curl their fingers in the rigging, coaxed grins and grimaces in equal measure from so many Anaxi sailors. Nervous glances and hands petting pistols, remembering. That same force was here now, cloaking the Harbour like a black smoke pall, everywhere and nowhere in particular. He knew that smoke was thick in the Dove where he slept, and now it hung heavy on the apothecary, on this moment.

He chewed his lip thoughtfully, squinting at Jasper in the dimness. He still didn’t know what exactly the man’s purpose was, but he had a strong sense that it wasn’t just to keep the shelves tidy and brew tea for nice witches.

“Yes...?” he ventured flatly, softly. There was a lilt of something he couldn’t quite name on the edge of that word. It didn’t sound like agreement so much as it sounded like ‘what the hell are you getting at?’ All at once, Havek was something he knew he had no business being. He was curious.

"I need you," Jasper began, "To go on a date!"

He beamed and put his hands on his waist, looking incredibly satisfied with his proclamation.

"Right, first i'll have t'introduce ye t'the gal, then it'll all go smoothly, then I'll get--" He paused, as if remembering there was another person in here. "Oh er. Right. She's a looker, lemme tell ye that. More than you are, any what." The man laughed at his little joke. Seeing that his companion didn't seem to find it funny he blinked.

"Er...y'know...'looker'? Cos ye can't look?" His grin invited Havek to join along in the joke, even if it was at his expense. "Anyway, she's nice too. An' all her teeth are present which is hard t'say of most Old Rose girls that've been born'n bred. Ehhh chatty, so ye won't have t'say much, neither."

Jasper thumbed his nose, staring at Havek anxiously, "No danger, right? Ye'd do me th'favor? Otherwise my throat'll be slit."

But he didn't laugh, he didn't smile. He just snorted and skittered bony fingers over the eyepatch, as if protecting the poor socket from the jibe.

“What?”

The word carried a rare edge, the faint sound of disbelief and irritation. Havek leaned back against the doorframe, huddled under his coat, bland features fixing into a scowl. He looked a bit like a snake, reared back in indignation at being swatted with a stick. Whatever trick or teasing the little bastard had in store was anticipated. A weak man doesn't survive alone by being stupid, after all. It rang sour with him. It was a small blessing Jasper had stopped that awful crowing, but Havek wasn't comfortable seeing him so suddenly pleased with himself, either. The strange blonde thing didn't seem too terribly bright, so he wasn't quick to trust any concocted plan. Especially not when that plan involved himself, and even less when it involved a woman. No matter how blessed with teeth she was. Women were special, respectable things that he preferred to keep at arm's length, if he lingered near them at all. Haveks did not 'date'.

“How...how is me goin' an' gallivantin' around with some woman gonna keep ya from gettin' bled from ear to ear? Ya ent makin' a lick o' sense, if ya don't mind me sayin'.”

Jasper dried his sweaty hands on his pants and ran his hands through his hair nervously. "It's a distraction. I gotta get 'er out of th'house. Without doin' too much damange, cos it's... it's possible nothin' might be in th'house. I mean I could jest go o'er there an' knife her, cept she's a girl and it en't pilite."

He scratched at his nose apologetically and shifted. "It en't like it's that hard. All ye gotter do is take 'er around for a few hours while I get-- while I get t'searchin' the house. Simple." The boy seemed genuinely nervous about this whole thing.

There were questions buzzing in him, then. Just what were they up to, here? He shuffled deeper into the back room, eye roving over the boxes and boxes and boxes. Jasper seemed so anxious, it seemed like he'd say anything, if only he'd bother to ask. Havek was needed, for once. For the first time in a long time, he had the upper hand on someone, and...he had no idea how to use it.

In such leery dealings, ignorance was sometimes better. Being servile and small as possible was good for not getting twined up in things much bigger than yourself. But if he just bowed, just said yes, he'd be an accomplice to...well, whatever bit of nastiness Jasper was looking to get into. Something about breaking into some poor sod's house.

If the only alternative was some woman getting stabbed, however – it'd be best to have it go over with little violence as possible. The old forlorn mantra of 'but why me?' floated into his thoughts for a moment, but he brushed it aside. He glowered at Jasper, gaze flickering over all of him, noting his nerves with a cock of the head.

“Can't have you goin' about shankin' delicate girls in their homes, now can we?” soft mumbling as he turned away from the other man, fingertips stumbling over the settled dust on one of the boxes. “But robbin' them blind ent no good either, sweet as ya wantin' to get her outta dodge first may be.” He roved over the wooden crates, sniffing deeply, trying to puzzle out what could be stashed away in them. It would seem as if he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper to them instead of Jasper. A quiet, irritated little noise came before he spoke again. “It ent like I can stop ya, though. I'll do whatever ya want, fine, so long as the poor doll don't get hurt.”

Jasper went from looking incredibly nervous to exuberant in about half a second. Havek might have never seen such a fantastic display of bipolarity. "That's great. That's really really great. I really appreciate yer ahh...services. An' stuff..." He suddenly seemed unsure of whether to give Havek a handshake or pat his head or what. He settled for a solid clap on the back that may have been a little too friendly, because it caused some of the boxes to teeter dangerously. Jasper looked up and swallowed.

"Sayyy...let's maybe...get in th'other room, neh?" He ushered Havek out of the room, and shut the door quietly. When he saw Parrot he gave him the thumbs up and winked cheekily. Parrot nodded once and left the store.

"Good times ahead, eh Havek?" Jasper said lazily, leaning back into his chair and placing his feet on the counter. "You getter go on a date with a hot gal. I getter keep my heart in me body...!"

“That don’t sound any good at all.” Pause. “Havin’ to drag some poor pigeon around the Harbour, I mean.”

He was loathe to be dragged out of the back room, but it didn’t show. He just followed Jasper out, blank and quiet as ever. Curiosity lingered with him, still. Questions buzzed in the hollows of his mouth like sparks. It was so like and unlike him, wanting to rip off the tops of those crates and rummage inside. But he wouldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t. There was surely a damn good reason Jasper was sweating bullets, why he’d been so quick to get him away from them. This wasn’t some whimsy book mystery. He wasn’t some cute heroine who could snoop under the bad guy’s noses, who could cleverly push the pieces in place to unravel some dirty secret. He wouldn’t skip away without a scratch at the end.

The whole damn Harbour was thick with dirty secrets. It wouldn't pain him any not to know one more.

Jasper’s smile, Parrot’s departure – something was going on here. Something he didn’t like at all. Something he was being involved in, whether he wanted to or not.

Havek just did the three things he did best. He kept his mouth shut and his head down and waited.

Within no time Jasper was...quite asleep. He snored loudly and raucously. Havek had a chance to explore the back room, if he wanted to. He had noticed Jasper hadn't locked the door on the way out. Now would be a good time to find out what those crates contained-- but he'd have to be quick, and quiet. Jasper looked like he might be a light sleeper.

Havek’s gaze flickered up from the floor at the sound of Jasper’s snores. He’d been quiet and coiled up in his own thoughts, delicate ideas about clandestine dealings and creeping fog and other sorts of sinister things. Temptation, that’s all this was. An opportunity he was supposed to resist. And resisting temptation was one of the rare things he excelled at. Usually.

Quietly, he sank down onto the floorboards, unraveling his boot laces before he was even fully aware of just what he was getting himself into. Next came the burden of his draping coat, all riddled with pockets and clattering coin. After a moment of hesitation, he eased off his heavy satchel. It was weighted down with all his pretty things, but his pretty things were loud. All this was stripped off and set behind a counter. Just a moment. Just a peek. Just – just…just stupid.

He didn’t need to know. He’d probably be better off not knowing at all. It could be nothing. Nothing he had any business poking around in, anyhow. Wasn’t there some old Mugrobi proverb that should be coming to mind, about being careful of what your little eyes see? Nothing good ever came from curiosity. Curious about the snakes witch-mama kept under glass, curious about the way a fishmonger’s daughter tasted.

But sock feet picked their way across the floorboards, in spite of himself. Quick, cautious little steps. He was light on his feet, almost dainty. He eased the back room door open, only a few scant inches, just enough to squeeze his narrow body through. Havek was in the dim-lit damp again, not much room to move the space so tight packed with those mysterious crates. He sank to his knees before one of them, squinting through the darkness in vain.

Fingertips hovered in the air above one of the boxes for a moment, unsure. But they were quick to curl around the edge of the lid. He knew Jasper wouldn’t be stuck in a doze forever. Just peek under the lid and get out out out. Simple enough, right? The boy never said he couldn’t look, after all.

He whispered the soft monite for Lamp and gave the lid a firm tug.

Havek's field contracted for a moment and then relaxed, his casting of [b]Lamp[b/] was successful. There was a tiny ball of light hovering in the air in front of him, and Havek could detect a strange minty smell in the air.

The tiny light illuminated the closet space pretty well because the area was a small one. Havek could see small wooden crates stacked precariously one on top of the other on the right, and on the left was a larger wooden crate that looked much less dusty-- from what he could tell in the dimness, anyway. Both were close at hand, although the small stacked crates looked in danger of falling. Havek could hear Jasper snoring loudly in the other room. If he stopped, Havek was in trouble.

[D6 Jasper: 6. Below a 3 he wakes up.]

There was still time. He could still go back. Just creep out that door and pretend to rearrange those ugly shelves for the thousandth time, pretend all these stupid thoughts and stupider actions had never even happened. But there was that curious scent in the air, beneath the enveloping layers of dust and damp, that begged him to stay and seek. Mint? He sat back on his heels for a moment, eye straying around the illuminated closet. Junia flowers, perhaps? No, no. He tossed the thought aside. Not unless they were running an illegal coven of dentists from the back of the apothecary.

He rose to his feet, sniffing deeply. He eyed the precarious stack of crates with a wary eye, edging away from them. The curiosity was there, but he wasn’t feeling nearly daring enough to ease one of them down. They were coated in a thick rime of dust, as almost everything was. They must have been sitting for weeks.

Havek’s gaze then fell on another crate, larger than the rest. He tiptoed closer to it, then sank back down onto the floorboards. Fingertips dragged on its wooden face – it seemed clean…well, clean as a crate sitting in a musty old closet could be. This, he figured, was fresh. Fingertips slid around the around the edges, feeling for purchase, tugging for a hint of give. If it was a matter of wrenching the lid off a couple of nails, he was finished here and now. Foolish as the whole venture was, he didn’t fancy himself that stupid. For the chance that there was something horribly potent secreted away in the box, he knew it would be best to leave no trace of his tampering.

The lid gave easily and the contents of the box were revealed under the muted light. Little glass containers were stacked in the crate, stoppered with small corks. There were labels on each of them, although Havek wouldn't be able to read them until he pulled them up to his face. Outside, Jasper's snores continued peacefully.

[D6: 5]

Havek lay the lid across his lap and peered down into the depths of the box, leaning in shoulders deep to squint at the contents, loose dreads brushing against the little glass vials. Oh, was he nervous. His cheek twitched, he couldn't stop glancing at the door. Jasper's snores did little to calm him.

Tentatively, bony fingers curled around one of the containers and lifted it from its snug place in the box. He turned to face the guttering light and held it close, narrowed eye creeping over the lettered label.

The bottles were all clearly labeled.

Morphine: 5

(( D6: 4 ))

“Oh.”

That was all he could manage. Muttered to the damp and dark and boxes boxes boxes. A touch of confusion lingered on that little syllable, with it more than a bit of concern. He rolled the vial in his fingers, watching the liquid swirl against the glass. Bright, quick, and clear as common spring water. Morph-ine? Morp-hine? He had read Estuan and Mugrobi letters since he was a small thing, but this word was foreign and cold to him. Whether he knew of it or not, Havek’s fingertips buzzed with an all too familiar itch. He was holding something valuable, of that he was almost certain, in spite of the deceptively coarse treatment its owners had been giving it. Nasty, stupid gadabouts didn’t sweat bullets over spring water in jars. At the thought of Jasper, something in his mind gave definitive click, like the cogs of a watch syncing in perfect harmony. He’d snarled over ledgers and money just few mornings before, how he was the only source of income Shook had...

“Oh.”

Havek might have smiled, then. A slow, upward curl of the lips, barely perceptible for a second before flickering back to an impassive line. He may have been smiling at the boxes, or the lamp, or the darkness, or just the dank old apothecary in general. Such a rundown little shop could be hiding a storeroom full of liquid gold. Before he was even aware of what his hands were doing, the glass vial made its way into one of his deep pockets. It was only one, for he wasn’t greedy, but merely curious. For once, he wasn’t second guessing himself. Even though some small part of him knew that he shouldn’t, knew that stealing from something so clearly off limits to him was even worse than just snooping.

There was that bizarre calm about him as he rearranged the containers to conceal the freshly empty niche, as he replaced the lid. Curiosity had been slaked, for the moment. The boy’s quiet somnolence was comforting, but Havek knew it couldn’t last forever. He wavered to his feet and blinked up to darkest bits of the ceiling, to the corners where his feeble lamp could shed no light.

You didn’t see anything, he wanted to say to them. But he had the feeling they’d just whisper back, ‘neither did you’.

Havek willed his light to extinguish and shuffled to the doorway, easing it open quietly as he could.

Havek managed to open the door without waking Jasper. The other man slept soundly. The only noise was coming from outside, and it was muffled by the wooden door. The shop seemed eerily silent save for Jasper's snores.

(( D6:4 ))