[R7 Evening, Umbida's] Along The Driest Ocean [Open!]

unwanderinggirl

“Bhhhee.” Suhayl drew out his displeasure at the sudden commotion, round dark face souring at Umbida’s frantic request, bright eyes roaming from the dura woman he’d just healed to the dura woman who ran the coffee shop. The words boiler and explode were used in a few hurried sentences, “I just fixed ‘er hand an’ now you want ‘er to go burnin’ it? Har, that’s like puttin’ a jib sail on a fishin’ boat. It’s jus’ not a good idea.”

The sea-worthy wick scowled, shifting in the seat he just took and stood, still shorter than all three duri, adjusting the belts at his waist as if he needed something to keep his hands busy, especially if there wasn’t going to be any more drinking, “Now, I gotta cousin’r’two who did a fair amount’o’cookin’ on th’ubo. I can’t say I stayed outta the galley’s much s’they’d like me to, so …” People were leaving and he stood there, rubbing his chin, trying to remember if he even knew what a boiler looked like, considering offering a hand because he didn’t have anything better to do, because it was never a bad thing to have a coffee house in one’s debt.

It was a delicious debt to have, really.

His gaze flickered briefly to the other dura, the one who knew terms for parts of the body he didn’t even know existed, “Although, she’s got more sense in ‘er brainbox, mayhaps ...”

“Anyways, y’should let a ma--” Suhayl stopped himself, remembering he was terribly out-gendered, especially as patrons were flooding out of the cafe. The Bethaj hooked a thumb at the tattooed half of his mostly bare chest, volunteering because he liked folks owing him things and because he wasn’t getting paid for anything else tonight anyway, “Y’should let someone look at it who ent already smashed their hand today.”

Char

Fazeia turned to stare when Umbida erupted from the kitchen and started throwing people out of her coffee shop. And when Faz heard the word "explode", she stood up to leave too. She didn't fancy having a smashed up hand and getting blown to smithereens all in one day so she was making sure she had all her things to leave when for some reason Umbida chose to enlist her help.

She looked at the woman and after a moment of bemusement, realised that there was something quite different going on here. The way Umbida's face was now awash with relief at the sight of Fazeia and how she'd hissed her plea made Faz very curious indeed to see what exactly was going on that kitchen.

She noticed, however, that her two tablemates were not concerned enough by Umbida's panicked yelling about exploding boilers to leave like the other punters had and she watched, mildly amazed as each in turn offered to take a look at the "boiler". Faz turned to Umbida and shrugged. She lifted her hand, discoloured with bruises. 'Got my hand all smashed up havin a friendly chat with Louam Gabra a few streets away. Came by looking for help and these two stepped in. Dunno em, but I owe em a drink, I suppose since this one fixed me up good,' she said nodding at the wika.

'Listen...' she continued, this time addressing the two helpful strangers, 'I don't think this is one boiler you really do want to look at.' She paused, trying to think of a way to explain. 'It's not... You don't want to...' Her shoulders dropped and she gave up. 'Actually I don't even know what it is.' Turning back to Umbida she asked, 'Just what the fuck have you got back there, Umbida?'

rillani

Umbida was caught off guard by Faz’s directness.  Her eyes bugged and she lifted both shoulders.  “A surprise, darling!  A big one!”

As the proprietor walked to the door, scoping behind chairs and tables for slow pokes, she occasionally glanced back at Sabah and Suhayl.  She knew them as customers, but they hadn’t worked together before.  One half of her brain remembered their interactions fondly (Sabah for her tenacious studying which Umbida never had done, and Suhayl for impressing foreign tourists), while the other half of her brain searched for their underworld connections.  Umbida had a few enemies, and this was a delicate matter.  She didn’t want news to get around.

When she reached the door, she made her decision.  She flipped the sign around, closing the shop.  “It’s a very big surprise, and you three are going to help me get rid of it.”  Not waiting for her recruit’s reactions, she sped into the kitchen and said, “Come on.”

In the kitchen, the boiler looked fine aside from a new scratch or two.  The spare parts, however, looked like they’d been through the rapids, intentionally.  “This way,” she said, standing at the top of the cellar stairs.