The Toad Stool

It was moments like this that Brisaenys recognized that a desired effect wasn’t always desirous in an all-encompassing way. No—never could she look upon The Toad with an ounce of anything akin to physical desire. However, something much more developed and cynical etched its path into that smug, tiny smirk of hers. And it painted her stunningly. It was visibly apparent that Brisaenys enjoyed the rise out of Daxos, finding this outcome to be an accomplishment after his insistent disapproval earlier. Turned out, she merely needed the correct trail of thought to find a self-satisfying route to engage with him.

But any internal celebration was short-lived, the feelings were quickly fleeting with the arrival of another into the small room.

As Straga entered—his attention solely on Daxos—Brisaenys practically stumbled out of trajectory of the man’s outstretched arms, so he passed through the doorway without obstacle. Being unnoticed wasn’t so far-fetched for the Velaryon girl. Besides, this was her father’s business, which was a notion that left her once-again quiet and unassuming to the conversation and commotion around her. But this new fair-haired male…

He seemed to know of her Lord Father, too. Quietly, the grey-eyed girl acknowledged the stranger. Just how many associates did he have throughout King’s Landing? Or beyond? She was without knowledge to that question. Without knowledge, but not without some covered ground-work on this day—Daxos was speaking towards Aethon again.

Here, Brisaenys peered away from Straga to look between her father and her new acquaintance. The Toad spoke, “Quite the clever…,” her lips tightened atop her teeth, and only loosening when Daxos finished his thought, “…child you have with you.” Ah, what an improvement. Thing to child; both equally insufferable depending on whom you asked, while Aethon likely cared for neither remark. In a feat mimicking charming, Daxos and his moist handkerchief appeared to bid their farewell towards her. Brisaenys purely responded with a stately, minimal bow of her chin towards her clothed chest.

The introduction of the Pirate King added yet another crippled creature to the misfits that Daxos liked to collect though unlike them Aethon viewed the Pirate as broken in the mind rather than the body. The Red eyed demon did well to hold up the persona that could change easily as the shifting winds, for as long as he had known the pirate Aethon’s clarity on some matters had been cleared up yet he still couldn’t quite tell if the man’s mind was that of a genius or a lucky fool. He had to admit, though never out loud for anyone to hear, that the pirate had pulled the wool over his own eyes the first time they meet, he played the fool so well that it was hard to believe there was more to him than just that. Though with the colour of his eyes and the way he’d seen them changed from one personality to another it didn’t take him to long to discern exactly who the pirate fool really was, and when he had figured it out it was almost baffling that most others hadn’t seen it yet.

“Pirate.” Aethon’s single word fell from his lips with without emotion attached to them or any kind of hint that he knew anything of the man other than the fact that he was indeed a pirate. There was little hostility between the two but that didn’t mean there was a blooming friendship either. They had an arrangement that had seen them both well provided though their interactions were minimal at best and he preferred it stayed that way.

The usual price. Instead of a number appearing in Aethon’s mind he saw a purse filled with golden dragons, a rather heavy one at that. The usual price for what The Toad was asking was a small fortune to some, a large fortune to others but it was simply a drop in the bucket to the three men in the room.

Aethon’s hand came down and clasped on the shoulder of Brisaenys before he spoke. “She will see it done.” With that Aethon turned and aimed his daughter towards the exist before he started walking away, heading upwards and towards the light in the same way they had come down into this hobble.

The flicking and scraping of his nails continued as the small group spoke and though his eyes roamed the room, Straga's mind and focus were on the conversation he was no part of and should have no part in. That, however, never stopped the Pirate from joining in any conversation he had a modicum of interest in and that could possibly serve his own benefit for whatever reason.

When Aethon finally took his leave, Straga sat forward a bit in his seat and replaced his small knife back into it's holdings upon his lower back underneath his cloak. The man was littered with weapons and was rarely found without one, even when naked but in that instance his weapon of choice was always his wit; something he probably held in a higher regard than anyone really should.

"Quite the company you keep my friend, though I should hardly be surprised." Straga had sat far enough forward in his seat and placed his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand while the other hand reached forward and toyed with a button of the Toad's jacket.

The Pirates meeting though was extremely short lived and though he wished to know more about what Aethon wanted with the Toad, an explosion on the street above grasped his interest far more than a trade deal. Besides, Straga knew he could always come back and get that information any time he wished, the Toad's peculiar tastes were easily met or at least teased at enough to garner any information one may wish to learn, provided they knew the correct buttons to press.

Rising from the seat as dust trickled from the roof in various locations, Straga's features furrowed for a brief second before returning to their normal clueless and happy expression. "It seems my attention has been requested elsewhere my dear friend. Until next time. Bazz." Straga even offered the servant a farewell and a wink. As he walked past the Toad, he trailed his hand across his shoulders, fingertips lingering for a moment until they came to the end of the man's form and quickly he skipped up every second step and out the door.

Tensions in this city were already on the verge of exploding and it seemed now they quite literally had for Straga could hear the screams of both rage and horror coming from the area of disaster as black plums of smoke sailed skyward. But, rather than take a direct approach to the anarchy, Straga opted to follow the shadows and alleyways so he could gain a feel of the situation and probably remain hidden rather than offer his involvement in this situation for as long as he could.