A Rat

During a pit stop on the second day, while the others are stretching their legs or relieving their natural urges, Markus - who, indeed, has bathed - hops up next to Salbadore in the coach's cabin. He leans back as he crosses his legs, stretches, then crosses his arms about his chest. He turns to Salbadore. He smiles. "Got a tick, mate? 'Ave a few 'quiries fo' ya brain box, I do."

Pleased to have a receptive ear for his ministrations, Salbadore can only respond, "Aye, Markus! What would you ask?"

"Roit then," Markus says, smiling while he shifts in his seat. He reaches into his cloak and takes a dagger from somewhere. He uses it to pick his fingernails. "Ya smart bloke, that," he says, "Ya ken me gutterspeak. Ya know wo' we mean by rat, do ya that?"

Salbadore throws up his hands. "Oh on a tied, blue tongue -" He shakes his head and sighs with melodramatic resignation. "Of course I do. What is your point going to be?"

Markus laughs, "Roit good answer," he says, waving his dagger in the air. He nods toward it. "Na' think thisa work, that," he says as he replaces the dagger back into the folds of his cloak.

He smiles. "I jus' wanna light th' dark fo' yeh. I go' no beefa 'Is Emperor. I na' traitora throne, nor any that dog jizz." He pauses dramatically to look around and leans closer to Salbadore, "Bu' sometime wot need doin I do. Sometime wot need doin bes' na' chatterbout, ken me?"

Salbadore is clearly impressed by the rogue's confidence. He swallows and nods.

Markus leans back, laughing, "Tha' na a concern then, izzat? We mates an' all, foit tha good foit againsa bogeys and 'aunts annat, roit?"

*swish*tunk*

Before Salbadore can speak, the wood next to his head splinters. The tip of a dagger is buried in the wood near his temple; its blade vibrates near the genomancer's ear, and its handle wags vigorous a few inches past his cheek. Salbadore's eyes bulge and Mayna leaps in surprise, spitting and cawing. She crackles angrily.

Mercurio glares. Taking a serious - ominous even - tone, he states his meaning carefully. "If you rat me out like you did Laurie, I will kill you." He does not break eye contact as he pulls the dagger from the wall and replaces it into his cloak. He relaxes in his seat, but continues to speak with uncharacteristic clarity. "You understand me . . . gub'nah?"

Salbadore: "Sh-sh-sheiss- yeh. Kenned."


(text also by colin)