Fort Sea Hold - Docks
As any proper coastal Hold should have, Fort Sea Hold sports a bustling and large dock and port. Ships are often moored here and business is regular. There are stalls here too and a market of sorts — including the seedier sort if one knows where to look.

Split off of this scene here: Don't Get Caught

Lucy reaches to tuck a hand in the crook of Beyrl's elbow. "We can pretend to be a couple. I'll talk a lot and you just nod and look bored, it's a perfect disguise. I think I saw some booths over that way."

If it's shopping one is looking for, well… Fort Sea Hold DOES have a port and docks. Stalls down there too but as to the reputation of some of those establishments — heh, well therein lies the question right? Will it just be "shopping" they'll find? It looks bustling and busy, a mix of all sorts of folks and varying ranks and positions.

Beyrl follows along where Lucy will lead, letting his brain shut down for the day, as shopping away as only woman-kind can, with secret hope she asks not the question of dread: 'Does this dress make me look fat?'

Maybe Beyrl let his mind shut down a little too hard; Lucy soon finds that she's misplaced her companion. When a concerned glance around yields neither Beyrl or someone obviously abducting Beyrl, she shrugs and forges on by herself. The stalls on the docks look promising in a forboding kind of way and she continues towards them with determination.

Daralyn was…for some insane reason…put into this party. Never mind the fact that he swears he's going to be recognized, never mind…well, just about anything else. He's a fidgety wreck as a result (wouldn't you be?), but he also notices… "Uh, Lucy?" There's a wave down. "You…er…." How shall he put this? "You look out of place. A lot."

Lucy head-turns at the wave down and squints for a moment before recognizing her fellow candidate approaching. "Daralyn. I've lost Beyrl…you don't think he'll get sold into piracy or anything, do you?" She makes a face at Daralyn's very diplomatic observation. "Yeah, well, if I'd known Ha'ze was going to make us be spies I'd have worn all black or something."

Daralyn rolls his eyes at the question. "Rumors of that sort of stuff are…a bit exaggerated." Or so he claims. And then there's the all-black line. "All black? /Really?/ C'mon, you'd stand out even worse." Note how Daralyn seems rather at ease, wearing normal clothes… "Try…try going for 'normal-looking' and you'll do better at not standing out." And then there's a sigh. "How much of a rundown on…this sort of stuff…do you want?"

"I know, but he's just so…kidnappable," Lucy explains, tugging at her shirt sleeves self-consciously when Daralyn implies she isn't normal-looking. "Isn't that what spies wear? Black?" The fellow's next words have her relaxing visibly though. "Oh, thank Faranth, you already know? Ha'ze just said 'some shiz'." Air quotes accompany. She starts back a tick when a large bearded man pushes past her.

There's plenty of conversation going on around them should they approach the docks and the "market" of sorts around there. Most of it is just inane chatter. Weather. Weyr gossip (old news), Hold gossip (maybe fascinating). Nothing truly incriminating — yet. That large bearded man certainly isn't a source. He'll just grunt some sort of curse or apology (or both). He might give the change in focus though to catch sight of a pair of men discussing but looking uneasy as they do. Something is off about them but not as glaringly as any faux-pas on Lucy's wardrobe or behaviour. They lurk just to the side of one of the stalls showing various wares. Dare they get closer, they'll pick up snippets: "… how was I supposed to know.." "…keep it down…" "… losing the shipments… Are the accounts…?"

Daralyn almost literally facepalms at the question. "…no." This is like being dropped into a bad, bad story or something. "Uh…let me get closer?" He steps over, making a point to look through one of the stalls next to the men and asking a question or two about the wares…and then ignoring the slightly melodramatic answers the merchant offers concerning what he has for sale.

Lucy crosses her arms and looks disappointed at that answer. SO disappoint. Still, she's hard on Daralyn's heels to help out with looking at the merchandise, something she is perfectly competent at, and staying mainly at his elbow as he makes his way closer to the lurking men. "Hey, see what they're charging for nutmeg around here," she hisses. It's hard to tell if she's just trying to be convincing or genuinely wants to know.

Those men are oblivious to Daralyn and Lucy's approach. So long as they play "normal" shoppers and don't lurk too close, things should just go swimmingly! They're quiet a moment, nervously fidgeting and glancing about but clearly harried and rushed. "… couldn't we talk elsewhere? Not safe here." "…no time. They're gonna want those shipments…" "… yeah, and? Where do you think we're gonna find that stuff?" "…they'll have our heads y'know. Make us disappear like that crew…" "Don't!" A warning and their voices are drowned out for a moment as a boisterous crowd of folk saunter by.

Daralyn keeps shopping, thanking the merchant for his time and leading Lucy to another stall. "So…if you're trying to get away with something, remember three "A's": Audacity, authority, alibi. Basically…if you walk in someplace like you're supposed to be there and you have a plausible excuse to, you'll fool a lot of people most of the time." He explains this as he and Lucy shift stalls. "At least, a friend told me that one time…"

Lucy arches an eyebrow in Daralyn's direction for his attempts at learnin' her, listening politely but not seeming particularly engaged. Perhaps she doesn't see a lasting future for herself in spycraft. Instead she runs a finger over a small pile of vanilla bean pods on offer with a faintly disapproving air. "These are too dry. The price is ridiculous."

"… all I'm saying is we need to get the supplies and soon or more heads will roll." Hopefully just figuratively. "It's almost winter — unless you know rogue riders?" That voice almost sneers that as if the concept is so outrageous as to be laughable. Or is it? "Don't care who we deal with… Our buyers need to be satisfied." The second voice growls and then something spooks the pair. Without a word or with words too quiet to overhear they depart in separate directions. One of the men, a weasely looking sort, scuttles right by where Lucy and Daralyn are currently "shopping", clutching something tightly to his side not unlike a satchel or leather-bound book. He's too quick to follow however and melts easily into the bustling crowds.

Despite trying to follow, Daralyn is…well, he could follow after or he can remain innocuous. He chooses innocuous, preferring to continue a friendly explanation of this stuff to Lucy. If they're going to be stuck doing this again…well, Daralyn at least wants a partner who has a clue!

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