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(Archive) A new infirmary

Tags: Elodie,  Brev,  Lorthrain

Short Summary: Various fragmentary scenes relating to the proposed new infirmary for Esgaroth's Underdecks.
Date (real-life): 2011-05-01
Scene Location: Esgaroth, Northern Underdecks
Date (in-game): Autumn 3052
Time of Day: Various

Exchange of favours

Fiery Flagon

The Fiery Flagon has long been a nexus for gossip and comradary in Esgaroth. The room is still scattered with evenly placed tables, each piece of furniture well smoothed and ready to provide a comfortable seat and a place for a mug to the inn's patrons. Against one wall, a large brick fireplace stands proudly, a number of iron tools and an extra pile of wood huddled on the hearth. To the side of the fireplace there is a large window with thick glass which looks out onto Bowman Street, the words "The Fiery Flagon" painted in common across the pane so they might be read from the road.

The bar occupies another wall of the room, standing as a stout guard before the neat rows of bottles, glasses, boxes and kegs. It is perhaps this piece of heavy, dark wood that shows the most evidence of a recent fire. The base of the bar still shows the scorchmarks from the flames, although the entire bar has been polished so much that it will neither chip nor flake ever again. Carved deeply into the center of the bar is the tavern's sigil: a mug overflowing with flame.

Behind the bar a doorway vanishes into a kitchen area, whee rumour has it a small courtyard can be found.

Obvious exits:
 Up the stairwell leads to Sleeping Quarters.
 Swinging Door leads to Center of Bowman Street.
 Back Door leads to The Market Square.

=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Sun May 01 15:00:10 2011 MST

Dale-Lands Time:
Autumn of 3052
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=

[Elodie(#26584)] Although there is little left to do with the plants in the pots and troughs of her little courtyard but harvest seeds and mulch some down for the winter so that they will grow again, Miss Elodie still likes to spend her mornings out in the kitchen courtyard. With a bag of fallen leaves gathered from the nearby forest at her feet, she hums to herself as she sets some sturdy sticks in the dirt of a trough, and then winds old rags around them to create cage. Into this she is dumping the leaves and patting them down, her hands kept from scratches and the slight chill in the air with old, weather beaten leather gloves. The hood of her cloak has fallen back, letting some of her curly tendrils catch in the breeze, while most of her hair is braided down her back.

Footsteps sound, coming along the street. That is hardly so unusual - the Market Square is witness to many comings and goings - but this particular set stops suddenly. The next thing, Brev is peering over the top of the wall. He has a pair of dead rabbits slung over his shoulder, of all things. "Fine day for gardening," he greets nonchalantly. "Told Gidon I'd sell his coneys for him." And then, "And there was something I wanted to discuss with you, come to that. It is Elodie, isn't it?" As well he should know.

[Elodie(#26584)] Looking up to Brev, Elodie nods. "It is, ya remeber well," she replies. Her eyes stray to the rabbits over his shoulder, appraising them before she smiles. "They'll make a fine stew fer tha Flagon tanight, I dare say." Pulling off her gloves, she walks over to open the gate for Brev. "An what might ya want ta be discussin' with me?"

Brev steps through, surveying the state of the little garden. "Can't be getting many herbs for the pot from that," he comments. "Should I tell Gidon there's a market for those, too? He's forever trying to hawk greenery to the healers ..." He breaks off, extending the brace of rabbits in one hand and holding out the other for coin. "The usual price."

He pauses only briefly before adding, "And it was Gidon I wanted to discuss - or his search, rather. Figured you'd have more chance of finding things out than he does - has the lad talked to you?" The singsong speech ends on a hopeful note, offset by a grimace of doubt.

Elodie starts to reach for the rabbits, then pauses. "One moment," she tells the stranger, then spins on her heel and strides quickly inside. Coming back out, she holds out the usual coin, and this time will take the rabbits when they're held out.

    "That depends on tha greens he's hawkin'. There's a Fogar that Lord Lorthrain's buyin' from fer tha infirary, an' my room's quite stuffed at tha moment with all I've harvested from here." With the rabbits over her shoulder, she folds her hands under her cloak for warmth. "I've not seen yer lad Gidon since tha birthday party at Lord Barlin's, an' he scarce said a word ta me, there. What is it ya were hopin' he'd be askin' me?"

Brev takes advantage of the pause to nose around some of the pots as though interested in the identity of the herbs - a little hard when there's not much left of them but bundles of dry twigs or clumps of shrivelled leaves. When Elodie returns he starts, but accepts his coin in exchange for the rabbits readily enough. "He finds all sorts. Thyme and savory and cress and mullein, and plenty of others. Some of what he turns up in these parts I've not seen before, mostly someone's told him it's useful."

He shrugs, then snorts. "Kiern, that's just like him. Never could string two words together to a woman. Think he'd rather speak to a goblin." A brief flash of a smirk lights his features. "Anyway, the lad's seeking word of his kin. Figured someone like you might be able to help. All the locals hereabouts pass through this place, and you're well placed to put a word or two in their ear - or simply listen. I'm sure we could agree on some suitable remuneration ..." He enunciates that last word carefully, amber eyes betraying the doubt that he's got it right.

Elodie nods slowly. "Well, I'm pretty set with those sorts at tha moment. In fact, almost got more'n' I can find room fer. i'd like ta take a look at some of tha other ones, though. If I know what they are, I'd be interested." She walks over to take a seat on the bench that runs along the wall where the chimneys from the ovens can be seen poking out of the roof above. Leaning back against the scant warmth, she tilts her head to the side, "re- what?" she asks curiously.

Brev looks disgusted at the failure of his own attempt to 'talk proper'. "Nothing comes for free in this world," he says bluntly. "If you can find news of Gidon's folk, we'd pay you for it - coin, or something else you'd find more useful. My own folk don't use coin. Never did see the point of storing it up. Who can say he'll still live on the morrow?"

Elodie nods slowly. "Ah, I see. I think I've heard Lord Norfred use that word before, but never knew what it meant." She winces a little. "I'm no Mr. Scampre, Mr. Brunni. If I can find somethin' fer yer lad Gidon, I'll let ya know. Though, I need a bit more ta go on if I'm ta find anythin' out. However, there is a business sorta thing that I'd like ta talk with ya about, now that I think on it. Ya were tha fella that carved that right smart lookin' ferret, were ya not?"

Brev lets one brow arch up at Elodie's speech. "Didn't say you were Scampre. Wonder what's going to happen to the old rogue?" He sounds idly curious, no more. "Now, as to those details: the lad knows little enough about his mother." He snorts. "Myriam, the name was. Left town about eighteen years back. The lad says she never talked about home - personally, I reckon there was some kind of problem. The woman likely left in a hurry. Maybe you could ask around if folk remember some scandal - and if there's any of her kin still living. Gidon was set on meeting them."

The other subject causes a swift blink. "Ferrets, is it, you're after?" he asks blandly. "Aye, I whittle a little - carpenter by trade. Mostly I patch things up: buildings, men even. Figure you're not after that, somehow." His tone is dry.

Elodie watches Brev's face as he gives the details he has, then sighs. "Not a lot ta go on, but I'll see what I can come up with." Then she chortles. "No, not ferrets, thank ya. I was thinkin' more of yer carpentry skills." She looks around, then motions him to sit next ta her.

     "I don't know if ya heard, but tha rich folks is settin' up an infirmary Underdecks fer some people who're too poor'r'too scared ta go up top fer healin'." She lowers her voice and leans closer. "Now, all those medicines an' stuff that I need ta make would be pretty heavy ta carry down every day, so I mentioned ta Lord Lorthrain about maybe havin' a strong box down there, with a good lock. He thought it was a good idea, but tha more I think about it, tha more I think that such a thing is just invitin' someone ta come try their luck at breakin' in. Ya follow?"

Brev slides on to the bench easily enough. "I hadn't heard, no," he responds to those first words. He scowls. A moment's consideration, and he states flatly, "Interesting idea. But it won't work, you know."

To the second subject, he chuckles suddenly. "You want me make you a box that invites someone to break in? Something that'll end up split into pieces by some thief cursing its emptiness? Now there's flattery for you. Nothing like knowing your work is intended to last." There is clear mockery in his sing-song tone, and one side of his mouth pulls back in a smirk. "I'd do it, of course - for a fee. As to storing things quietly, that's easy. False wall, loose floorboard, hollow in a bedpost." He reels off the list calmly, as though it were quite usual.

[Elodie(#26584)] "Ya don't know that, ya know," Elodie replies just as flatly. "People down there needs help, an' have spoken of how they can't get it up above. It won't be a.. financial success. An' it'll take some time. But it can work."
    At his idea of making a box to be broken into, her eyebrows draw together with a puzzled look and she starts to shake her head. However, when he mentions the secretive ways of storing things, she lifts her hand to point towards him with a grin. "That's exactly what I'm talkin' about. I don't want a box that can be broken inta, I don't want a box at all. Like I said, a box is an invitation fer mischief. I wanna secret place, an' I can carry ma basket down every day ta make it look like I'm taking it with me all tha time."

Brev shakes his head dismissively at Elodie's defence. "Folk down there need healing, aye. But as to why it won't work - Town Guard. Bluecloaks. Call them what you wish, they seem to have more names than I've gone through." He essays a half-hearted smirk. "They'd watch any sickhouse like a hawk. Doesn't take much nouse to figure out that the fellow with the hole in his shoulder is the one they were chasing last night for a robbery."

His piece said, he shrugs. "But work is work, and I'm hardly one to turn opportunity down, even if others will. I could fix you up a place or two to store things. What exactly will your healers need to leave there?" Ah, assumptions.

Elodie grins slightly. "That's tha point, sort of. Lord Lorthrain says he'll not be askin' me ta spy. An' tha blue cloaks aren't goin' ta be tha ones watchin' it fer me." She shrugs, "sides, it's not so much tha thieves an' what have ya that I'm goin' down there fer. It's tha ones as has little choice as ta where ta live due ta lack a coin." @emit At the mention of healers in the plural, she grins wryly. "It's just me. An' I'll need ta leave bottles and jars an' such. Some leaves, but mostly those things. An' I suppose I should put my lamp oil away at night, since people'll be wantin' that, too."

Brev's sceptically arched brow in answer to that first speech says it all. "It's the same thing," he states, tight-lipped. "Folk do what they need to to live another day."

The next words, however, clearly startle him. "/You're/ the healer? Figured you were just a herbwife." He gestures round at the dormant garden. There is a long pause whilst he surveys Elodie levelly. Eventually he offers, "Jars and bottles I can hide easily enough. Lamp oil's a worry, with all this bloody wood around. Still - figure I could manage some storage area for it. I'd take your knives with you, though." Another pause whilst he stands, dusts himself off. "Those who won't cross your door will find some other healer," he says at last, looking away. "His methods aren't gentle. He'd as soon not have to touch a child or a crone."

In the blink of an eye the sombre mood is gone from him. "I'd best give Gidon his coin," he states, offering Elodie a lopsided smile. "And tell him that if he wants news of his Ma's folk he needs to overcome his fear of the lasses. A good day to you." With a quirky grin, he lets himself out and steps on his way, rather less burdened than when he entered.

Elodie twists a wry lip. "I understand tha Lady has been helpin' those sorts after dark, but she can only do so much. An' it's all right. I started as an herbwife, an' Mistress Gwende's been trainin' me recently so's I can do more. I don't think she'll ever give me tha rank of full healer, because I can't dedicate maself ta tha trade as much as tha others. I can, however, do more'n'yer average herb wife." She stands and follows him to the gate.

    "I can't believe that I'm all that intimidatin', but I'll make an effort ta be extra friendly next time I see yer lad. Have a good day, Mr. Brunni." She waves once, and watches him down the lane a little before she turns and takes the coneys into the cook.

 Signing up

 Northern Underdecks

The Underdecks of Laketown are a dark and sometimes dangerous place. As Laketown was rebuilt, a sudden influx of inhabitants made rent too high for many of the lower class citizens. These citizens gradually took over the vast areas under the great city, building warrens for themselves amongst the great pilings of Esgaroth. Though the areas are sometimes flooded in times of great rain, many folk now call these man-made catacombs home. The halls and passages that spider off everywhere down here are a mish-mash of good and bad carpentry, and the lanterns that hang on the walls give only the barest light. There seems to always be whispers and mutterings about, and flitting shadowy figures all around.

The northern ledge of the Underdecks, upon which you stand, hangs beneath the Fisher's Wharf, which can be reached by a dark stairway raised halfway along the edge of town. Away to the east there's talk of rickety walkways leading south, while twisting passages are what one finds by seeking in the west. A faded and long defiled sign hangs in the entranceway, encouraging visitors to bring their own light, for it's rumoured to be very disorienting down here, and those not well versed with the area can easily get lost, perhaps never to be seen again...

Obvious exits:
 Dark Stairway leads to Fisher's Wharf.
 Rickety Walkway and Twisty Passage

It is early in the morning, but already Esgaroth is awakening. Up on Fisher's Wharf the men returned from night-fishing are hawking their catches, and muffled cries drift down to the stifled warren that is the Underdecks. Brev is up early too; the man has a satchel slung over his shoulder, and though he is wary as ever, glancing over his shoulder and into the shadows as he moves through the 'Decks, he is making no secret of his destination: the ramshackle building that someone overheard only yesterday was to be made into an Infirmary. Setting himself to lean against a beslimed piling, surely more sound than the building in question, he awaits the first person associated with the mystery to come along - whether that be Elodie, Stanric or some other. "Just heard this place might be in need of a carpenter?" he greets them, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it is quickly banished. "Happens I might be able to help you." The singsong words are kept casual.

"Is that so?" replies the voice of Lorthrain, who is indeed abroad within the Underdecks seeking the same premises. Perhaps a surprise to the foreigner, the Girion lord emerges fromt he dimly lit passages, and he sniffs as he looks Brev up and down.

But then, a smile.

"I have wondered," says the nobleman, "why I've seen so little of you down here,  Mr Brunni, though I myself stray not often to these streets. I hope this to change, of course, once this Infirmary is up and running. But aye, there is work for a carpenter indeed. Master Stanric, whom I am sure you're good friends with by now, has taken care of the the walls and floord, but we have need of shelves, cabinets and berths for those seeking the aid of Miss Elodie. Indeed, the young lady should be along any moment now, I believe..."

Brev is indeed surprised to see the Lord Girion here, and the slight widening of his eyes betrays it. "Good morning, Lord Girion," he offers dutifully. The first query is answered with a shrug. "Someone told me it wasn't a healthy place to be, down here. Past evidence would seem to prove it." His upper lip wrinkles. "And I'm a man concerned with health."

He ignores the jibe about Stanric - after all, he hasn't deliberately provoked the Guildmaster for a while. Quiet persistence and grudging silence in the face of Stanric's opinions is probably as close to friendship as it's going to get. "I'll happily stick up shelving and fix up cots. Figure Stanric would be glad of the chance to save manpower." He pauses, glancing to see if anyone else is approaching. His features are arranged in an expression of earnest politeness.

"And I'd be glad to save some coin," replies Lorthrain with a faint smile, nodding to the foreigner. "Master Stanroc's rates are far from cheap, though the craftsmanship is beyond question. But I'd gladly give your skills a try, Mr Brunni. How long do you think it would take to get the work done?"

The Girion nobleman strolls then around the inside of the room, and his brown gazes slips over the rough, newly replaced timbers with a sniff of interest. "Have you any skills that deal with the intended purpose for this place, if health is your concern, as you say?"

The corners of Brev's mouth twitch at that first query, though any private amusement is swiftly stilled. "Oh, a few weeks," he replies airily. "Always supposing I can lay hands on the timbers and suchlike." Noting Lorthrain's focus on a new beam, he comments in off-handed fashion, "Noone doubts a Master's work. He's not short-changing you - no point using the best timbers when the place is prone to flood. Cheaper and easier to replace damage each spring."

The other question is given a rather more considered response. The sudden stillness to Brev's features hints that Lorthrain has surprised him for a second time this day. His answer is evasive as ever. "Know well enough what a healer needs. Fire to heat water and irons, cots that won't break when a man thrashes, floors smooth enough to mop the blood up, walls thick to muffle any screams." Features not out of place in a war-zone are reeled off calmly. "And," his voice tightens and the calm is gone, "the means to send a body after the spirit when a man dies despite you." A muscle in his cheek twitches and he rubs at it irritably before attempting a return to the casual air of before. "I imagine Elodie has her own ideas. Though how a working barmaid's going to run a sick-house ..." He shrugs.

"She's got a good heart," answers Lorthrain, and he regards the foreigner curiously. "And though I hve not spoken with them, she's been seen as a frequent guest of the Healing Houses; such an interest is hardly one to question. If she is willing, and the Dragon knows few are, then I say: give her the chance."

He sniffs then. "I meant rather if you had any first-hand knowledge of curing ils, though your assessment of the carpentry is appreciated, lal the same."

Brev lets out a snorted breath. "Wasn't her heart I was questioning, more her employer's willingness to lose her labour. The Flagon seems to do well out of her."

At the other question, he fixes Lorthrain with a hard amber glance. "Already told you that. Like I said, I patch things up. Sometimes, that includes men. Cutting out a barbed arrow, stitching up a slash, burning the rot out of a wound. But as to curing ills - now that, I make no claim to. That's women's work."

He lets out a short bark of laughter, then turns away as though dismissing the matter. "So when can I start work here?" Suddenly eager, he seems.

"Today." come sthe reply, and Lorthrain continues to watch Brev curiously ere he smiles anew. "The sooner the better in fact, Master Brunni, and you need not worry whether you are charging Guild rates. I can offer you fifteen florins for the work, or else find another man with similar skills. What say you?"

Brev arches a brow at that. "Would Stanric do it for fifteen florins?" He doesn't give the Girion Lord a chance to answer, though. "I'm not Stanric. I'll take it. Pay'll keep a roof over our heads and bread on the table, and like enough when the job's done Stanric will make his own judgement." He offers a hand as though to seal a bargain, then seems to recollect that might not be the best approach to take with the nobility. I'll off to see about wood then, eh? Lets see ..." Already his measuring gaze is flickering round the new-furbished building as though taking note of every breadth and depth.

But even as his eye roves, his hand is taken by the nobleman; a soldier before all else it seems, for Lorthrain's shake is earnest and binding. "Master Stanric, if he so chooses, will judge from the sidelines, for already he has delayed the work in question. As you say, quality is quality, and is never to be sniffed at, but we do not need intricate woodcarvings or a perfectly measured shelf. We have need of utility, Master Brunni, and for some reason that brings you to the forefront of my thoughts..."

Brev's mouth twists wryly. "Always good to know I'm useful," he says drily. "Pity about the carvings, though. Last time I saw her, the Elodie woman was quite taken with them. Ah well, I'll save them for another time." There is a glint of amusement in his gaze as he looks back to Lorthrain. "I'd best get going. A good day to you, Lord Girion." With a jerk of the head in lieu of a nod, he moves off.


Whose house is it. anyway?

 Northern Underdecks

The Underdecks of Laketown are a dark and sometimes dangerous place. As Laketown was rebuilt, a sudden influx of inhabitants made rent too high for many of the lower class citizens. These citizens gradually took over the vast areas under the great city, building warrens for themselves amongst the great pilings of Esgaroth. Though the areas are sometimes flooded in times of great rain, many folk now call these man-made catacombs home. The halls and passages that spider off everywhere down here are a mish-mash of good and bad carpentry, and the lanterns that hang on the walls give only the barest light. There seems to always be whispers and mutterings about, and flitting shadowy figures all around.

The northern ledge of the Underdecks, upon which you stand, hangs beneath the Fisher's Wharf, which can be reached by a dark stairway raised halfway along the edge of town. Away to the east there's talk of rickety walkways leading south, while twisting passages are what one finds by seeking in the west. A faded and long defiled sign hangs in the entranceway, encouraging visitors to bring their own light, for it's rumoured to be very disorienting down here, and those not well versed with the area can easily get lost, perhaps never to be seen again...

Obvious exits:
 Dark Stairway leads to Fisher's Wharf.
 Rickety Walkway and Twisty Passage

=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Thu May 12 14:41:25 2011 MST

Dale-Lands Time:
Sterday, late morning on a stormy autumn's day, November 27 of 3052
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=

Morning is here, though down in the Underdecks the storm-tossed grey of the clouded sky above has barely made a difference to the perpetual gloom. At least down here the battering of the rain has little effect, and the wind manifests itself only as a faint creaking and the occasional scuttering of debris along the spidering walkways.

The recently repaired building set aside as Esgaroth's second infirmary stands shut up tight, but the gleam of light glints from gaps in the shutters and from inside comes the rasping burr of a saw. That the door is closed is perhaps unsurprising; more so the fact that it will not answer to a key. Apparently it has been barred from the inside.

[Elodie(#26584)] Pushing back the hood of her sopping cloak, Elodie makes her way towards the new infirmary, moving quickly and quietly, but with her eyes roving on a constant look-out as sme moves. With a puzzled frown, she gives a little push at the door to the infirmary, then she knocks loudly on the wood.

"Hello?" she call in, her glances around the area little more intense.

There is a swift response from inside - silence. That is followed by a challenge in a male voice, singsong and with a certain foreign quality to it even when muffled by wood: "Who's there?" There's nothing like being made welcome in one's own workplace, is there?

[Elodie(#26584)] Tightening her hands under her cloak, she calls out in a strident voice. "Elodie, of the Fiery Flagon. Who are you?" she asks in return, her voice gaining confidence as she reminds herself this is her building.

"Oh." The note of challenge fades abruptly. "Just a moment." Rather a long moment: there is the sound of some heavy object or object being moved, followed by a grunt as the bar is set aside. Then the door is jerked open and Brev (or Brunni, if one knows him by that name) stands there, leaning casually against a doorpost as though he owns the place. "Sorry. Didn't know it was you," he offers, with a remarkable lack of apology.
Elodie nods once as she sees Brunni on the other side of the door, having relaxed a little when the note of challenge died, although she does turn from her perusal of the area around her towards him as soon as the door begins to crak open. "Hello, Mr. Brunni. How does tha work go? I'm guessin' ya didn't want anyone ta see ya workin' on the things I asked ya fer?" The question is asked quietly as she steps into the main part of the room so he can lock things back up if he desires. She carefully steps around the tools and pieces of wood or any other implements that may be about.

Brev grunts. "Something like that." He does indeed lift the bar back into place. "Not overfond of unexpected visitors. 'Sides, the local youth steal everything they can lay their grubby little fingers on." He offers Elodie a lopsided grin.

There are indeed pieces of wood lying about; in particular a haphazard pile of boards near one wall that from the lack of sawdust on them have been newly shifted. One side of the room already sports a row of cots, though the other is not yet finished. The place has a practical, utilitarian look to it; in keeping with Lorthrain's suggestion, Brev has added little in the way of decoration, though here and there one can find odd touches: the bracing beneath a table recalls twined branches, whilst the curving brackets supporting a shelf suggest the arched backs of squirrels. "Goes well enough. The Girion Lord wasn't wanting anything fancy, though like enough there'll be time for some whittling later." He shrugs and looks away. "Here to check up on your domain? Or is some poor unfortunate needing a bed?"

Elodie smiles. "Just checking on the progress, and trying to see if it's possible to make a last minute adjustment," she adds with a questioning look to Brev before her footsteps sound across the room, looking around for what she's needing.

Brev chuckles softly to that. "Depends what you call progress," comes his response. "And adjustments are always possible, if the price is good. Show you what we've got so far, anyway. End wall's been shifted forward a little. You can get access here ..." he pauses to count along a number of panels before indicating one that looks no different from the rest, "... and here." He lets his hand drop back to his side. "And see that cot at the end, with the knot in the wood? Unscrew the post and there's a handy space for something long and thin. Was thinking to add something beneath the floorboards, too, when there's time."

He lets the speech trail off, and lifts one questioning eyebrow in Elodie's direction. "So. What's it you're needing? And," uncomfortably he lifts a hand to rub at his cheek, leaving a smudge of dirt, "there's something else I'd been meaning to ask you."

Elodie's eyes follow to the things that he points out, a little smile playing about her lips at the different hiding places. "Those will work very well, thank ya, Mr. Brunni. What I was wonderin' is, I've applied ta Lady Corawyn fer salaries fer some help here, an' part of that salary is that they would live here as well. Is there a way ta make it so two cots can be somehow... private from tha others?" Her eyes travel to a corner that has yet to be worked on.

    At his other comment, she gives a rueful smile. "I'm afraid I haven't found anythin' out about tha young lad's family, yet."

"Private?" Brev's other brow arches up to join the first. "Depends what you mean by that. Precious little's secret in a place like this." He lifts an arm in a sweeping gesture. "Sure, I can put a partition up. But anyone out yonder will know who's behind it - 'sides, noise travels." The corners of his mouth are twitching. "Not the place I'd recommend carrying out any .. intimate business." By dint of not looking at the woman, he manages to smooth the signs of private amusement from his features again.

To the other words he offers a shrug. "Figured you'd have other things on your mind," he states bluntly, seemingly unworried by it. "Can't be easy, juggling the Flagon and this place. Why I was thinking-" The words break off. "Didn't know you'd hired help." He tries again. "Was wondering if you needed someone to spare a few hours down here when you can't. In the evenings, say, when the Flagon's busy?"

Elodie stiffens at the man's conjecture. "I meant privacy from patients. I am not a Lady some sort creating a safe haven for girls ta carry on their business. If anything, I'm trying ta steer them away from such.. intimate business as you call it."

    At his talk of him sparing a few hours down there, she turns a curious gaze to him. "I thought ya told me this place isn't goin' ta work out? Why would ya be wantin ta look out fer a place yer thinkin' is such a hopeless cause?

Brev holds up a hand placatingly at the first words. "Like I said, I can put up a partition." He enquires no further into the matter.

To the final question he smirks. "Maybe I'm just a charitable sort of man?" he suggests sweetly. "Maybe I'm giving you the chance to prove me wrong. Or maybe I figure there's those who'd heal better with proper care and tools, and I can find a way round the Bluecloaks?" He looks up, brows tilted in enquiry. "So - are you needing the help or not?"

Elodie tilts her head to the side. "Yer a healer, too, Mr. Brunni? Ya are a man a many talents," she comments lightly. "A place a healin' can always use any help it can get. Just how're ya proposin' ta get around tha Bluecloaks? I'm curious, because I wouldn't mind gettin' around them maself if I could."

"Definitely many talents," Brev agrees with a quirk at the side of his mouth that metamorphoses into a sidelong grin. "But I make no claim to the name of healer amongst your folk. Say rather I'm handy with a knife and a needle, and lost enough friends that I learned how to keep alive the ones that were left." The mocking smirk fades; instead his jaw tightens and he focuses his gaze on the wall rather than Elodie herself. Perhaps he's just planning out that partition ...

"Knifings or beatings I can handle," he states abruptly. "Any fevers or births I'd send straight for you. You're the one who's after more work, after all ..." He makes it light-sounding. "As to the Bluecloaks, we'll see. Best thing's if those they're after are simply not there when they come looking. I'm sure we can figure something out ..." Was that a challenge? As he turns back to the healer, he chuckles softly.

Elodie smiles wearily. "Would that I didn't have ta work so much. But people fall ill or are injurd all tha time. I can help ya with anythin' ya can bring in here. Includin' knifin's an' such. If ya can find a way ta get them here without Bluecloaks knowin', then I'll make sure their patchin' up doesn' get infected which could tip tha Cloaks off, as well." She looks at Brev, whether she recognizes it as a challenge or not, she tips her chin up a little. "I've asked fer this place ta be able ta help anyone who needs it. Any that ya can get in here, I can take care a them, too. Though I won't toss ya out on yer ear fer helpin'."

"That's good to know." Brev's mouth twitches suddenly. "Who knows, you might even learn something. Not all mending is herbs and booklore - a hot knife and strong spirits can do the job just as well."

He seems to feel he's said enough on the subject, for he turns away and with no more ado states, "Need to get on with the rest of this lot while I can. If I'm late back again, Caoimhe'll have more than words to say on it. She's very fond of /her/ knives, and not for healing." He snorts. "Take it you can do whatever it is you came for? Don't mind me." Without waiting for an answer, he picks up a saw and sets to. Clearly the conversation is over.

[Elodie(#26584)] The purse of Elodie's lips may indicate that she's familiar with using a knife and other things, but this expression is soon replaced with one of resigned weariness and she shrugs. "All I came ta do was see if we could have tha little space fer tha girl or girls ta sleep. Have yerself a good day, Mr. Brunni." Turning, she walks towards the door and slides out the board he put in place to lock it when she arrived.

Date added: 2011-05-25 07:03:10    Hits: 52
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