Luciel expertly dodged Vex's eyes in time to come off as merely mistaken, or strange. It was tricky to read people he wasn't looking at, though it didn't entirely matter since he'd been wrong in his assumption. On that note, John wasn't a hard read in their approach on the woman who introduced herself as 'Vexes'. In spite of their opinions regarding this 'pile of shit' that Luciel worked out of, the jackalope kept quiet and tended to their own business. Behind the bar, they set their attaché case down and drew a slim paper bag from the bar's stores before swiftly transitioning the pickle jar. Following the motion, he fastened the red beaded anklet to his right leg, thus completing the setup.
They stood back up after sliding the bag into one of the shelves of the fridge next to the orange juice. Health code be damned, and Luciel thought orange juice was disgusting enough, and the two didn't touch, so no harm no foul.
The others seemed to be on about jobs which I would have been inclined to offer my assistance with, if I hadn't my own arraignments to tend to. It would also be strange to have Kaitra following Maxxy around, which reminded me of another matter I needed to tend to.
"Take care, sir!" Luciel called after Sacha with a wave, followed shortly after by Maxxy. For the moment, this left John and Vex still hanging around the bar. As unfortunate as it was for the jackalope for associates to be in proximity to 'Angel's business, such matters are what concepts like tact and subtlety were made for. Expressionlessly, Luciel drew a red cocktail umbrella from the drawer of drink nick-nacks and stuck it in John's drink. Imagining he wouldn't mind, since he never touched the thing, it served as more of a flag than anything. "Better zehn ice, yeh?" they joked before two choice individuals entered the bar.
Both casually in suits, an old mole in sunglasses carrying a suitcase was followed by a doberman who took off his sunglasses, slowly scanning the bar before pulling out a chair for the mole. Sitting with a groan, they gestured for the hound to come close and whispered to them in a wheezing voice. They nodded and crossed the bar, making their way to the restroom before catching Luciel's eye and looking down to note the anklet before continuing, flicking their ears.
While in the men's room, the mole turned away one of the waitresses who walked up to the bar. "Hey Kait, you have an admirer" they groaned, subtly gesturing to the mole with a tilt of their head. "Thanks..." Luciel said in a cheerfully commiserating tone, though he was glad that the client was a punctual one. After taking one last sip of the offered scotch, chasing it down with a swig of the coffee he'd packed-
The song and dance began, picking up my waitress notepad and a pencil while moving to engage the mole. On the notepad was a tiny scribble, forming the words 'Blind would be convenient, if not stereotypical'. My hand moved to form a dash every other line, forming notes on the client in case it was ever important. It was unfortunate how three pages back had been torn out and burned since 'Derrick' was no longer a paying customer.
"Good...noon sir, vill you be orderink?" I asked, announcing myself at the same time the door to the men's room opened and Spooks McBark returned to the scene, likely having been waiting for me to make a move. The mole smiled, wheezing a small chuckle with, "Ahh, the accent...my sight isn't what it was, but you would be 'Angel'...am I right?" their weak and nearly inaudible voice creaked. The doberman leaned in to whisper something about the anklet as I explained, "Vell, an associate ouf zeirs...now, vee haf a fresh brew of iced tea. Iz usually for mix, but I can make an exception" to which the mole waved a hand in dismissal before continuing, "And which one are you, today?" the mole asked in a faintly curious though optimistically condescending tone. "I was not expecting a woman" he apologized, if you could call his tone that.
Luciel replied in a soft hiss, leaning in to be hard and made apparent, "Zeh von who iz collectink...sir", their pencil hand etching into the notepad as they stood back up. The mole nodded, silence prevailing in the moment before wheezing, "Actually, I would love a glass of such ice tea...a-aaand, if you still have those sacked pickles I hear so much about?" working a genuine smile to Luciel's expression, a rare commodity.
"Yes, right away, sir" they chirped, walking back to the bar and setting down the notepad as they fixed the glass. The notepad's dashes read such things as 'inquisitive' and 'deemed unfit for further business', clapping it shut as they retrieved the paper bag from the fridge and soon returning, placing both items on the table along with a paper-wrapped straw which the doberman opened and inspected before taking a sip of the drink, likely checking for poison and then handing it to the mole who simply said, "Check it."
The bodyguard lifted a brow, looking to the one-way mirror of an expressive smile that took the place of the natural one not even a few minutes before as he opened the bag. Peering inside, he seemed confused before tilting it into the light, cringing and folding the bag shut. "Well?" The mole asked before taking a sip, the doberman leaning in to whisper-
An eye, a thumb, the first knuckle of an index finger and three of a ring finger along with the ID card of the target. My specialty...'Angel's calling card was a dark joke that few would get, even if they knew him, but it was all the proof in the world that whomever it was that the contents of the jar belonged to, they were likely dead or worse. 'Worse' being handed over to those who have personal business with the target. Not so in Derrick's case, though 'two-fer's were far more profitable, and few complained about a slightly damaged subject to question...they had something to fear if they didn't cooperate.
"Ye-yes...pay the lady, if you will?" The mole shakily ordered, the doberman retrieving a letter from their suit and handing it to Luciel who opened and flipped through the contents before tucking it down the front of their shirt into their armor. "And please enjoy your stay" He innocently chirped before returning to their place behind the counter, opening the register and making change for a hundred in the place of the expense for the tea as well as a small bag of coffee from behind the counter.
Closing the register, Luciel watched the two men leave with their bagged jar of Derrick before catching the eye of one of the waitresses and maintaining eye contact while flipping over the 'out for lunch' sign and walking off with the bag of coffee they just paid for. The woman took his place and turned the sign back over as he climbed the stairs into the residential second floor of the building. They undid their apron, tossing it over a shoulder as they made their way to check on Sam seeing as how Maxxy was out for business and likely wouldn't be back for a while.
The approach was something to consider since having keys to resident's rooms was a bit above their pay grade. Picking the lock was trifling, since Luciel only had a single bobby-pin and little experience in the matter. Also, the noise would be enough to rouse suspicion and he could very easily find himself at the end of whatever the two had laying around. As sensible as simply knocking would be, the jackalope didn't feel it was fair to make the guy get up to check the door. Regardless, it was still the most sane thought that had come of the day, and Luciel was keen on maintaining the streak.
A few short knocks on the door followed by a muffled, "Room service" came in the way of a decision. Luciel bit his lip, lifting an eyebrow as they made a very uncolorful call of judgment in regards to Maxxy. Shrugging, they took the knob and tried to turn it, finding that the door had been left unlocked. "Vell, I hope you are decent" they annoyedly mused as they opened the door to find Sam lounging about in their boxers. "P-paerdon, I...was sent by Ansel to check on you" Luciel started, politely looking away while closing the door and holding up the bag of coffee.
The dog seemed embarrassed, making a sort of grunting sound and rushing to grab his button-up and hastily buttoning the button up up. Once he did, he sighed in relief, seemingly uncaring at his lack of pants. "Sorry about that. Sometimes you get caught with your tie off." He quipped, before noticing the bag of coffee grinds in the man's hands. "Ah, coffee that doesn't taste like Grandma Ruth's christmas cake. I'm pretty sure today Maxxy just put dirt in the filter." He chuckled, before hopping up onto his good leg with the aid of a crutch. "So, the barkeep/back-alley bonesetter that fixed me up a few nights ago sent you over?"
The addition of a shirt was better than nothing, though the heart boxers were difficult to simply ignore. It was oddly expressive in a compulsive sort of way, though the idea of anyone who could seriously stand to wear such a garment ground at Luciel's composure. "Y-yeh! To see if zee wound iz healink" they started, taking a few steps into the room and placing the coffee on the table. "Ehn zeht iz...a 'get vell soon' gift? I hear zehy are...ehrm, good?" they rambled, genuinely unsure about the offer since he couldn't remember when he'd last given or received anything without strings attached. The idea about caring a single ounce for the private investigator wasn't his first intention, as the frantic face of Maxxy dragging the bleeding hound in was reason enough to do what he could.
Luciel had a soft spot for the lagomorph...in spite of their abrasive demeanor. However, his life comfortably existed as three different people, and many dangerous people as well as law enforcement would pay to know the names behind 'Angel'. -Not to mention the families seeking closure.
"He vould haf come to deliver it himself. Iz busy, you see" he chuckled with a knowing implication, hinting that this 'Ansel' character likely had more patients, which wasn't entirely false. Luciel would have checked in after his task, the night before, but was compelled to deal with 'overtime'. "Oh good, changing bandages. May I check?" they asked, bringing their attaché case onto the coffee table and drawing a roll of their own bandages.
"Sure." Sam said enthusiastically, moving his shot leg and placing it over the coffee table. "So, you work at the Hole? What do you do?" The dog inquired. It was difficult to decipher if he was probing for questions or generally interested, but his tone was quite convincing towards the latter. He quickly interjected, before the jackalope could speak, "Oh, and thanks for the gift. Not many doctors are handing out lollipops these days."
In the interest of time, though attributed to a glint of apathy, Luciel settled for a pair of thin scissors rather than meticulously unraveling the whole thing as whoever had rebangadged it had used far too much. The wound was still oozing a bit from the stitching but it seemed well enough without any notable infectious flags. "Taskink..." they distantly muttered in a simple manner while putting on a pair of sterile gloves and gently feeling around the room, checking skin pigment through Sam's fur in case of pus buildups. Thankfully, it wasn't a knee wound, so this bit was more of a formality.
Their answer had been intentionally vague as 'tasking' could mean anything from 'holding down a full time job' to 'I kill people, especially those who ask too many questions...not always for pay'. "Ah vell, zee verld could do for less-" they hesitated, an ear flicking as they completely forgot what they were saying. A wash of déjà vu sending a chill up Luciel's spine as if the thought he had impacted him, deep down. Disquieting as it was, he muscled through, thankful he was looking away from how he knelt as their eyebrows furrowed, clinging to himself while taking a deep breath.
It was difficult to focus on procedure and talk while distracted by the wails of agony from the coffee maker in the other room, belching what looked like mud and grit as it choked small 'Kill...me's. I shook my head, noting that the coffee maker was just in need of a new filter and probably a good wipe-down. Regardless, the voice was chilling and disgustingly familiar.
"Y'know...ahh, vaht iz zeh vord?" they mused, letting the breath out as they began rewrapping the area.
Sam hummed to himself for a minute, deep in thought. After a bit, he finally answered. "No idea. Murder?" He asked the nurse, an odd lack of weight to the question. But he disallowed an answer, asking another question. "Did you meet Ansel as a coworker?"
'Murder' wasn't the word, though Luciel gave an affirming "Mhmph" as they took out a marker and a pocket watch, checking the time before putting the time and date on the outside section of the bandaging. A tiny bit of OCD that was more warranted for newer patients rather than someone whose had a few days, but the jack didn't need to explain themselves as they were hit with another question.
A coworker...no, too open-ended. Siblings, maybe?
"Vell, I only figured out vaht he vahz up to when I started, here" they thoughtfully chirped, an ear tilting as they considered what they said before adding, "Hes...like a brother to me, honestly" with a small chuckle, tying the bandaging off with a bow above the time stamp. Though the answer was anything but an answer, the tone was sincere enough that a 'ditz' would consider it one, falling back on playing dumbly sentimental.
"Ehn how did you meet Maxxy?" Luciel asked, cursing himself for having fallen over themselves in the process of trying to turn the question back on Sam.
Would Kait have been told about the rabbit? Yes, of course she would, the anklebiter is a bit of a hazard in that way.
"I saw her on my vay up, she iz...eehh" voicing their discontent in a joking manner while gathering up the supplies in their case which they slung back over their shoulder before standing.
"A handful. Yeah, she get's that a lot. Well, words way worse than that, but you get the gist." He said, before rubbing his leg in a reminiscing fashion. "I guess you and Ansel are kinda similar to me and Maxxy. We were childhood friends. So close, in fact, I moved in with her. I feel like it was only right we get the same job, live in the same apartment, and sleep in the same bed." He paused for a brief moment, melancholy in his eye. "But you probably don't do that kinda stuff. You lost contact with him at some point?"
"In a sense, I suppose you could say" Luciel sighed in response to his question. "I still see him around, zough iz not like how vee used to be. Iz more like business partners" they continued, picking up their apron and wrestling it over their antlers before concluding, "Still, eit must be nice to haf someone so close be zehr for you."
After a palpable moment of silence, Luciel lowered his head in contemplation, though from how he faced away from Sam, the gesture seemed more along the lines of sharing in the melancholy.
"I vill let him know you're alright" they muttered, making to leave.
Sam simply nodded his head, before getting up and going to prepare the coffee. "Thanks for the help Doc. I know Maxxy doesn't like to say it, but we're both real greatful for Ansel's help." He said. The man seemed to have no objection to Luciel leaving. "Tell him I said hi, okay?"
"Vill do. Take care ouf yourself, for now, Sam" Luciel replied, closing the door behind himself and looking both ways down the hall before setting their case down and pressing their hands to their face. A soft squeak of a groan escaped their shaking form as their jaw twitched open, wanting nothing more than to scream before slapping themselves a few times in the face. Luciel shook himself, hopping a few times while balling fists and throwing punches in the air, psyching himself up. This was typically his 'lunch break', since stabbing the hell out of his chair back at the apartment was out of the question.
He eventually settled, taking a few deep breaths and whispering expletives. Lingering longer than he should, Luciel pulled himself back together, taking up the case as he practiced his best thick english accent, preparing for his later shift as Ansel while no one was around to watch.
Every day was a 'long day', living it for multiple people and keeping stories straight shallowed his prospects for actual 'hope' to make anything more of himself than what he was. Where others were crass vagrants waiting for their next job, hating every face he saw was grating and nauseating in the performance. Even in this nearly lawless town of bandits and thugs, the jack hated his place as a finger on a trigger belonging to another person's hand.
If he had the energy for it, he intended on doing something for himself, tonight...
For now, Luciel came back downstairs to resume their place at the bar, offering a small 'thanks' to the waitress who'd tended to a few patrons in his time away.
