Two unnamed figures at the corner of her vision chanced to catch her eye, drawing her attention from the retrieval of her items to the boys threatening them long before either of them even spoke the words. Scared as they were, they probably would've flinched if she gave them a menacing look or took a daring step in their direction, but her partner announced his intentions, her sole answer to this being a heartfelt chuckle. He seemed... Happier, and the woman secretly prided herself in knowing she might be one of the causes behind that change in his behavior, throwing both hands in the air as she allowed her partner to take the stage. Iván, the boy she allowed to sacrifice himself down at the Spire was still there, although something she couldn't quite place was definitely different from the person now standing before her eyes. Trial and error were already a ritual that felt all too familiar to them, moments of glory and respite granting a much-needed sensation of relief and joy nothing else could provide, seeking solace in the most unlikely of places in between their quests for a chance at some greater power or knowledge. Missions, money, different jobs and hunting trips defined them. Those, they could easily become used to even if they didn't live long enough to see the fruit of their efforts. Triumph was a trait that suited him most well. Portia threw her head back at his invitation and laughed, his reaction to the ordeal making it seem like the whole encounter had been orchestrated only so he would look good in her eyes. Perhaps clairvoyance would suit him nicely if such a thing was available inside the game, perhaps not. She found herself smiling faintly, each footstep closing the distance between the two, ''Remind me never to get on your bad side. While not in shining armor, it would seem my knight is still here to protect me.'' He said he would never let her go, and she certainly hoped he wouldn't. At the top of the staircase was no one to stop the pair from leaving the building, no more scared boys to hinder their process. The smell of burnt wood made an entrance, growing stronger with each door and hallway they checked as they worked their way out. Truly, if she had worn her noblewoman costume, all the stealth and sneaking around could've been avoided. But no, she had to get injured, knocked out and imprisoned along with the illusionist. Of course. When they found their way back into the village, it wasn't the peaceful sight that greeted the pair, but a curtain of smoke making it impossible for them to see far ahead of themselves. Instinctively, she brought an arm up to cover her mouth and nose, narrowed eyes darting all around the place in search of something that might be of use. She found nothing. Instead, a shadowy figure from not too far away caught her attention, standing in one single place as he gestured to the pair, seemingly the only one to recognize the two. ''Should we...? Agh, fuck it.'' She was already struggling to breathe properly, coughing and exhaling through her nose in an erratic pattern due to the smoke threatening to fill her lungs. What if the person beckoning them to follow was setting them up for yet another trap? They could deal with it and get out of this cursed village, but first, they had to get out of the smoke or risk staying and being found out. His safety was her primary concern, as it would always be from now on. A nod of confirmation and a wave of her hand was enough to make the man burst into a run, as did the aristocrats who started to chase after him for no other reason than to get out of their predicament. A few minutes later, a building she didn't remember for her earlier tour around the village came into view, the figure that led them to this new destination disappearing inside. Stepping inside with half a mind to thank their savior, both words and any possible movement were cut short by the sight of a familiar man with their back turned to them, and all sorts of weaponry pinning the lovers against the entrance. ''Ah, the lovers made it out in one piece!'' From one moment to another, he shifted from the stern man striking a deal with a couple of aristocratic mercenaries to a simple old man who saw them as he did his grandchildren, if he had any. What annoyed the brawler the most was how he seemed to ignore everything that had transpired in the village, even when the dirtied state of his attire and the droplets of sweat dotting his forehead clearly implied otherwise. ''Pardon my earlier interruption. Knowing you two, I had expected to find you in a cozier situation but it would seem a prison cell is no fitting replacement for the comfort of an inn room. Too soon?'' ''Too soon.'' The blushing lady he met at the tavern was no more, her curiosity momentarily taking the reigns as she steadied herself against the truth they were about to face. ''And what is this? Dammit, keep your weapons out of my face,'' she barked at one of the guards who pointed their lance at her, its owner retreating a step in fear as the promise of a bad time if he didn't comply finally sunk in. Satisfied with the new distance, she turned to address their patron, pointing to the smoke hiding the sky away from view. ''What is the deal with you? The explosions? The panicking people?'' ''We mean to take back what is rightfully ours.''
Getting out of this town's jail was apparently pretty easy, but only if you had friends causing a bit of a ruckus outside. Getting busted out was more or less a breeze, though it didn't really feel or smell that way when Iván Carl and @Portia Ahrens finally made their way outside of their holding cell, guided by a mysterious man who didn't even bother giving them a reason to trust him. Or a reason to not trust him. Either way, the whole thing was pretty suspect, but Iván was still technically riding that high from taking down two of the evil henchman sheriff dude's men. With Portia by his side, he felt invincible, indestructible, immortal. It did not take them long, nor their mysterious guide, to find their way back to their patron. The old man greeted them with open arms. Figuratively and literally. After a somewhat surprised greeting, or maybe he was being sarcastic, Iván could not tell, and some sort of joke or observation Iván did not equally understand, the old man dropped a serious statement, a very dramatic answer to Portia's simple question. For a second or two, everyone grew quiet. The rest of the people in that room turned to them with narrowed eyes, including the old man. Iván wondered what the hell was truly going on but he remembered they needed to get paid for a job well done, ambush excluded. "Okay, but, uhm, we're still going to get paid, right?" Iván took a step in front of Portia, towards the old man who looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, we did successfully get the dress from that other place and delivered it to our supposed meeting place. Well, tried to. You weren't there and we got ambushed. A little heads-up would've been nice. I mean, you don't look like you got ambushed, too." Iván turned to Portia to check if she was okay then immediately looked the man in the eye once more. He looked like he was having the time of his life, like he spent the past few hours enjoying himself in a hot bath, with a good meal, and not a care in the world. That didn't seem like a fair trade, considering Iván and Portia spent the last few hours in a jail cell, battered and bruised. They had a meeting place, scheduled one, but when they got there, the old man was nowhere to be found. Either he got tipped off about the ambush or he was the one who orchestrated it. Considering he seemed to have busted them out of jail, the latter didn't feel like the appropriate guess. So he got tipped off then, somewhat, somehow, but did not even try to give his hired help a warning or two? Even if they were just hired hands in his point of view, what about the dress? "What dress?" Iván narrowed his eyes at the old man. He took a second to heave a sigh, to calm himself down, before addressing him once again, "What dress? What do you mean what dress? Your wife's wedding dress! The thing you hired us to retrieve for you!" "Oh! That wedding dress!" the old man started laughing before putting a hand on Iván's shoulder. "That wasn't my wife's wedding dress. My wife's wedding dress is safe back at her family home, a thousand miles away from here." "What," Iván was flabbergasted. He just stood there as the gears in his mind started to move albeit rather slowly. The old man had pulled a fast one on them, on him, but why? He already paid for the inn room, and the food, and even gave Iván a sizeable advance payment. What the hell was going on? "Let me explain," the old man patted Iván on the shoulder before gesturing for one of the guys in the room to give their two guests individual chairs to sit on. In that room, there was Iván and Portia, the World's Greatest Lovers, as they were starting to get known to the other people in that room, and three other guys, excluding the old man. All three of them looked like they were up to no good, though one of them looked like he just didn't know the difference between good and not good, especially with that wide stupid grin on his face. "This, right here, is the rebellion." Iván turned to Portia with a raised eyebrow. He was about to say something when he got cut off by the guy with the wide stupid grin on his face, "Hello, I'm the rebellion." The guy with the wide stupid grin on his face waved at both Iván and Portia, excited for some reason, excited at an inappropriate time. "Luis, not now," the old man patted him on the back, to which Luis nodded his head fervently, still wearing the same wide stupid grin on his face. After reining Luis in, the old man continued to speak to the World's Greatest Lovers. "You see, this town... This town was a good town. But as you have probably already noticed, this town got overrun by bandits and brigands and all sorts of unsavory fellows." One of the other men interrupted the old man, "Yo, yo, yo, hold up, man, hey, that's rude, that's very rude. We're bandits, too, aight? Brigands even, but we're not, and I need to emphasize, NOT, unsavory fellows." "I wasn't talking about you, Dave," the old man tried to compose himself but it was obvious how much of a non-fan of getting interrupted he was. "I was talking about Cross and his goons." "Oh. Carry on then. I just get really protective of our brand, y'know? Know what I'm saying?" Dave explained, grinning and laughing. All by himself. The old man shook his head, arms crossed, and once again proceeded to talk, "Anyway, as I was saying, this previously great town is now under the grimey hands of the disgusting Cross and his equally disgusting men. Luis, Dave, and Kurt, the guy who doesn't speak much, are helping me with my efforts to take back this town, our town, my town. The whole dress thing was just an audition for you two, and it is my honor and pleasure to inform you that you aced that audition with flying colors. Welcome to the crew!" To say that Iván was confused would be an understatement, turning to Portia one more time before turning back to the old man and his supposed crew, Iván had only one word of a question in mind, "What?"
