Maxwell Is Still Sneering, Pride Wounded And Temper High, But He Listens, Eyes Narrowing The Longer The

Oh, how he wishes he could sic his hounds on this fox in true hunting party fashion.

"Yes, yes, fine!" he grinds out, throwing his hands up in defeat. "If you apologize and if you make it worth my while to see this agreement through, I'll transcribe everything perfectly legibly in our common tongue. I expect you to do the same. No tricks from either of us. Happy?"

"Your end of the deal. Hm. May I have an inquiry?" He did not actually stop to see if Maxwell would give him the go ahead.

"Is the knowledge you possess written in the common language of this island?"

maxwell when wilson isn't around to save his ass: i am going to die from heat. i am going to take heat damage. i am going to wander out into the desert and die. i am going to lose 75 health to the sun

What an apt observation. How refreshing it is to meet someone else who recognizes the value of looking one's best!

"Correct." He'll take it as a good sign that Lecter can read people well. That is his job, isn't it?

Maxwell, for his part, does not take a seat. Good, Doctor. You sit. Forever. For some reason, the idea of settling into a chair in this enclosed space is utterly appalling.

"..." How to begin? Being honest, vulnerable... it's certainly not something he's used to. But he expects he'll be asked to pay a pretty penny just to be here, so he might as well get something out of it.

"I expected that being cut off from the dangers of my 'home realm' would likewise sever their hold on me, but I find that I am experiencing just as many nightmares now as I did before."

If anything, the nightly visions seem to have only grown worse since his arrival. It's as though the Stars have tampered with his very ability to mentally recover from moments of distress; he doesn't think that's possible, but he supposes it would be foolish to assume that anything is beyond their capabilities. And since he can no longer rely on a dapper suit and natural confidence to reassure him and sooth his nerves, it seems appropriate that he seek outside guidance.

He does not intend to spend his vacation in paradise plagued by terror.

"So what do you think? Is that something you can fix?"

it's not often that hannibal encounters someone dressed as well as him. in fact, he's noticed how rare it is to find someone dawning a suit for the sake of it, undistracted from the need of any social gathering. the man in front of him - maxwell, his file tells him - is dressed as if he will attend a networking event right after therapy, and so hannibal immediately knows he'll have much fascinating to say.

" ah, looks like we both dressed up for the occasion, " he says with a polite but amused grin, observing maxwell enter the room from where he's sat. " come on in, maxwell. you don't look like the type to pursue a psychiatrist's opinion, if you don't mind me saying. what brings you here? "

@codexvmbra liked for a starter!

Well, well!

"The Princess of the Fae and the King of Nightmares... what a majestic duo we make."

That's right, pal. He's royalty, too. Ex-royalty. Ex-self-proclaimed-royalty.

Maxwell doesn't seem overly intimidated by either the glowing in her eyes or her mention of murder. If anything, he relates. He's gotten to know a few humans by orchestrating their deaths, too, after all.

"Is your girlfriend human herself, or just a bleeding heart?"

● "Do you think you could hold your own against their princess? She's standing right in front of you." The woman's eyes glowed as mana swelled within her. She was just trying to spook him a little, and she wasn't exactly the princess anymore. That timeline didn't even exist now.

What she said next probably didn't help her case though. It was his fault for asking about it!

"Does killing them count as knowing them by your definition? I guess you could say I work for some now, at least back where I come from. Not really into killing them these days, though. My girlfriend wouldn't like that."

"Not a fan?"

THE GUY jumpscare!!! Maxwell leans over from behind the Afterborn, observing the statue over their head.

"I don't know, I think it lends the place a certain grandiosity. It gets the crowds excited before they even step foot in the tent. But--!"

He straightens up, tapping long, clawed fingers on the stranger's shoulder.

"--everyone's a critic."

This young man is clearly passing through town (but not in the direction of the Capital if he knows what's good for him). Maxwell is somewhat surprised by their reaction to a statue of their King, but this happens sometimes with magicfolk from far away; it can take a moment for that natural connection to sink in, and for them to realize just at whom they're looking.

"Where are you from, kid? They don't teach you history out in the settlements?"

( for @codexvmbra )

Glitz ! Glamour ! This town's got it all, and it ain't even the final destination !

The Afterborn secure the straps of his backpack ( adorned with patches, faded marker drawings, and keychains, of course ) as he takes a look around the settlement. White glowing eyes match the circus of lightbulbs and neon, advertising food, fun, and anything else you could need in this final pit stop before the Capital.

Ever the sort for whimsy and bringing fantasy and fun to life, William was naturally drawn to the promise of a magic show. He had heard of those, seen a picture or two along his travels but had never had the opportunity to see a REAL one before. Making a bee line for the tent promising a grand show, he slowed as they were met with . . . interesting decor.

Ain't this the guy from the advertisements ? William thought before— ❝ Why the fuck wouldja have statues of yourself ? ❞ they wondered aloud.

{ isola starter call ! || @corporatevalue ! }

This is unacceptable. Yes, maybe losing his puppets is the price he's expected to pay for protection from Them, but-- but-- the creators of this world could at least give him a replacement for his servants! Dropping him into the middle of an unfamiliar realm with nothing but the shirt on his back and a mockery of his Codex in his hand? It's unfair! It's criminal!

It's exactly what he deserves, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

...or tolerate it.

"Enough of this beating around the bush. I've made it very clear what I'm looking for, and if that means aligning myself against whatever passes for law enforcement around here, then so be it." How much more direct can he be? He wants something powerful, magical or otherwise, and he couldn't give less of a damn how Ms. Jenson has sourced it.

"So I'll say this one more time; let's talk about your real big-ticket items."

ngl it’s the absolute funniest thing that max is working for a Shady Organization and doesn’t know it. like bro would NOT care if he knew about the Extra Stuff they do, but he simply does not. He’s there to look good and sell clothes. That’s it /lh

Ah! It's the fashion-forward fowl he met at work. She's surprised to find he's not just a pretty face, it seems.

"Certainly. In fact, I'm something of an expert. Between my magic and your axe, we could take on any of the challenges posed to us, I'm sure."

Engle looks over the candy corn axe in her hands, then at the man marveling over his book.

"You've used magic?" Engle asks. Maybe he could help her with one of her spells...

"The Stars, you mean? They can't possibly care what we mere 'mortals' do." He allowed his pawns free run of his world. In fact, he quite enjoyed when they found gunpowder and blew themselves and other creatures into smithereens. The powers that rule this realm are almost certainly the same.

"Mm. No, I don't intend to limit myself to weapons of that kind." She knows what he wants-- objects of power and intrigue, not one's run-of-the-mill, boring old revolver.

Oh, yes. She knows exactly what he wants.

Maxwell watches with a sharp gaze. He wouldn't mind having a source of energy for himself; his time on the Throne has left him rather frail, as loathe as he is to admit it, and it certainly wouldn't hurt to have an easily-accessible pick-me-up on hand.

And.

Maxwell's brow rises in surprise as she demonstrates on her own assistant. That comes across as quite cold, even for him. She's quick to return the energy stolen, but still-- was that truly necessary?

Necessary or not, it's provided a quite compelling demonstration.

"I am highly interested in this piece. I intend to avoid combat as much as possible until my own powers return, so the subtlety afforded by this item is well worth the wait. However..."

He glances around as though his dear Codex will slip from the shadows into his grasp.

"I wonder whether you have anything that could mimic the abilities I'm used to. I've come to enjoy certain freedoms that come with having servants at my beck and call." He glances at her assistant; she can relate, he's sure.

"I wonder if now would also be an appropriate time to ask about, er. Payment options." Better to admit outright that he almost certainly isn't rich enough to pay up front-- he would hate for her to become irritated and decide to perform a second demonstration of that box on him.

"I wonder whether there would be any opportunity for me to provide my services to you as a form of partial payment? I think you'll find I can be discreet when needed. And I know when to keep my mouth shut and my eyes to myself."

"When it comes to the city of spirals; I don't believe it is law enforcement that should be worrying you," she'd hum in thought. Indeed, were 'righteous' otherworlders - vigilantes - far more troubling. Gifted with all sorts of diverse abilities, including ones that'd be sheer fiction within her homeworld. "— but I recognize you're resolute."

That a newcomer was itching to break laws in a world where they don't even yet know the extent of what they're dealing with, to the point they'd find themselves traversing the low levels of fibonacci so soon… Ms. Jenson wasn't sure whether she should find the courage commendable, or find the lack of prudence appalling.

Not like her personal assessment of the other's character mattered much; he was a customer all the same. If he insists on making a potential mistake, who's she to impede?

She signalled to her subordinate with a mere headtilt. Spirale had no Port Mafia; true - she had the luck of seeing a couple of familiar faces, one of which being with her here today, but that was about it. Her current main occupation wasn't even connected with any of this — but, ah, how irresistible it is, to be the supply in where there's just this much demand. Within a business she felt right at home in, no less.

Ms. Jenson carried an amused expression whilst speaking. "Often I find new customers rushing here to purchase firearms, and if you insist; I do offer them. But if you're looking for powerful; simple steel won't cut it."

The subordinate would return with a suitcase, placing it on her desk. "You seem like the cunning sort," she'd observe, choosing a descriptor that was - somewhat - less accusatory than to assume them to be the type to backstab others. "— so I believe I've something that'll grant you considerable leverage."

Out the suitcase, she'd take out what looked like an ornamented box, crevices hinting that it - actually - doesn't open fully. More importantly, the box didn't appear intimidating.

Quite the opposite, actually; it'd not look out of place within an herbal store, its use of pastel green, white and gold giving a gentle, inoffensive impression. "This is based on an existing, permissible product from Cotes Fantasci, and if not used - will pass as one just fine. Much like the genuine article, it's able to supply you with energy, but; it is modified to include a lethal twist."

While it is unlikely the customer could hear the order she'd mutter to her subordinate, it is possible they noticed a fleeting yellow spark that'd occur right after.

Tilting the box towards the poor guy, she'd push the subtle button on the bottom, which loosened the lower part of the box, creating a gap in the crevice that runs through the middle of the gadget. "Naturally, you could just use it for its assumed purpose; it has you gradually recover energy, and whenever you're done and back in good shape— simply push it shut," she said as she did as much, closing the cube. The volunteer didn't say anything, but he did look visibly more vibrant than earlier.

"But," started, as she pressed the button once more. "— as it has your target gradually regain energy, you can also choose for them a different fate."

She'd quietly count, eventually reaching for the lower part of the box, but instead of pushing— twisted it. Response was instantaneous; as the box closed shut, the subordinate's legs gave into fatigue and he collapsed to the ground, coughing.

"Taking back the energy you've granted in one. swift. move. Yes, the target will be fine if it is done mere seconds after activating the box, but if you let it run for a few minutes?" a grin. "It may not be capable of giving you more energy than you'd usually have in good health, but all the surplus — it accumulates in secret. Twist it then, and you've got instantaneous death that - to anyone else - looks like it's been caused by starvation."

Well. Cannot have her subordinate be plagued by exhaustion on the clock. Using the box once more to let him recover, and after she had pushed the box shut, she'd place it on the table. "There are clear disadvantages, of course. Useless in the midst of active combat, for one, as it requires a lengthly idle time period for the desired effect."

Shrugging, she gestured to the suitcase. "If you'd be willing to tell me what kind of situation you're anticipating, I am sure I've something more tailored to your needs."