Maxwell Of All People Can Relate. Even Before The Codex Umbra Was Returned To Him, When He Was Given

There are many ways in which this "deal" could go awry for Maxwell; off the top of his head, he thinks that if he were to use that wording on one of his pawns, he'd ensure that they didn't "forget" him by plaguing their nightmares until they went mad. ...that would be quite fun, actually. Maybe he'll steal borrow the phrase if he ever goes back to his old ways.

For now, however, he'll live with whatever consequences come from shaking the hand outstretched to him. He's suffered through worse.

Blackened claws close around the entity's fingers and Maxwell marvels at the being's strange biology. Perhaps, if things go well, he can ask for information about his guide's home realm. It's always smart to be aware of what's out there, especially if what's out there is in the habit of dealing in forbidden knowledge.

"Is it your hope that we will discover a way out together?" That is to say, is he itching to escape?

Honestly, not what he was going to mention when the other strolled in here and started asking about magic and information, but he appreciates the straightforwardness! He loves someone with enough ambition and reckless disregard to fly directly into the sun. His lower eyelid lifts into a grin, although he doesn't move to fulfill his request quite yet.

“IF IT’S HAPPENED, I’LL HAVE SOMETHING ON IT - AND I’D BE HAPPY TO SHOW YOU! IF YOU SWEAR TOLET ME IN ON WHATEVER YOU’RE PLANNING. IF YOU’RE TRYING TO GET OUT OF HERE, USE ANY CRAZY MAGIC… WELL, JUST DON’T FORGET THE GUY WHO POINTED YOU IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION! DEAL?”

His hand stretches across the desk at that - sure, his deals might not technically have any power anymore, but this guy doesn't know that! Besides, he likes the gesture anyways. Feels natural, and he's not giving it up.

"For now." He's not going to set a limit on how much he drinks today; Maxwell isn't going to deny himself anything for as long as the (admittedly meager) funds he's been provided with last. It's time to celebrate!

...so why isn't his server scurrying off to help him get started?

Max turns from the fight, intending to fix the other man with a cool stare that should help motivate him to leave, but then he notices the way his server is eying his outfit.

"No. I'm here alone."

He sits up taller, straightening out his sleeves and his lapel. He doesn't blame the man for gawking; he cuts a striking figure in his suit.

Thank God he arrived in real clothes as opposed to those rags he had on in the Throneroom.

"It's custom made." Obviously. As if anyone would sell a jacket with those shoulders without it being a special request.

"Banter" has begun to achieved, as long as you count Maxwell talking solely about himself to be worthwhile conversation; it doesn't seem as though he's about to comment on the other man's taste in fashion, or on the other man period.

the fights are part of the reason will wanted to get employed at skullrender. nosy and without the ability to mind his own business, the writer finds brawls such as these fascinating. of course, watching them here sheds him of the guilt included in enjoying the occasional exchange of punches: the participants know what they're getting into, it's the main draw of the establishment.

.. that, and having a chance to meet the most interesting of people. the man that just called him over is unusually well dressed for this sort of afternoon. of course, there's nothing wrong with overdressing for any event, really - will does it all the time - but it was rarer to see in skullrender.

" oh, hi! " the notepad in his hand lifts with a smile, " and will that be all? "

will's gaze darts around, checking for anyone else wanting to order. the rest of the crowd seem to be intensely focused on the fight, so perhaps he can afford bantering for a little bit. " two, hm? are you expecting a date, mister .. ? "

he doesn't move from his spot near the stranger's table. in fact, it looks like will's waiting for something - for him to be looked at, so he may be caught non-discreetly studying the man's outfit.

"Mira, then." He'll forget her name in no time at all and go back to calling her "child," or perhaps "the observant." Maxwell tends to characterize his pawns by what they do, rather than who they are.

...! "Was that--?"

The victim's ghost...?

Color him impressed. It seems his Mira can do more than just raise Max's spirits.

What an intriguing thing she's turned out to be.

Maxwell is no stranger to ghosts. One of his past deals revolved almost exclusively around keeping one of them tied to the physical realm. He's seen Abigail play, fight, rest, and everything in between. Verbal communication was not her strong suit, at least not to anyone other than her sister, but... still. She was capable of expressing something. Can this spirit not at least give them a hint regarding their killer?

"How did you do that?" he asks Mira with gentle, genuine curiosity. And then: "Did you get anything of use out of it?" Or was she just taking pity on the spirit, allowing it to leave rather than sit around watching people fail to help it?

There's no stopping the utter confusion on her face when he's outright laughing loudly, very uncertain why such information is making him laugh like he is. Was such things funny truly? And it's even more confusing when he's saying such information isn't going to help find this murderer. Then why was he asking?

"Blackmail...?" Mira murmurs out as he's explaining it. This, blackmail makes them rich? Being rich involved money did it not? Which, honestly wasn't something she needed really. Then, he's pulling to stand besides him along the wall, and she lets him for now even if she jumps at the sudden contact, still unused to touch.

"Kid? I am not the age of a child, far from it. Others have taken to calling me Mira."

Gently, she's taking hold of his hand to remove it as she moves away from his side, towards the body in question again and seems to pause for a moment. While it's unseen to the others right this moment, she's watching the soul of the recently deceased as it flickers above it. She knows others touching her physical self don't trigger seeing into their memoires, but does touching a soul in it's purist form for her trigger it?

Without a word, she reaches out, seemingly grabbing at air before suddenly there's a tiny flash of light and floating above her hand is a white form of energy with various spikes rippling and pulsating, giving it the appearance of a multi pointed star. There's an almost pensive look on her face before walking towards the nearest window and the star shaped soul slips through the glass and into the wildness, floating away.

"I am sorry I cannot guide you..."

Her little display is enough to make others focus more on themselves for now and split further up.

BITE BITE SNARL.

...ahem.

"How generous of you." Yes, he'll bloody your bloody cape. Give you,,, a damn difficult stain to remove. Small victories.

He coughs again, wetly, and unbuttons his vest to better assess the damage. His shirtfront has been torn through in relatively clean lines, but is still what he considers unsalvageable. It's not that Maxwell can't mend clothing-- he's rather skilled with a sewing kit, actually-- but it seems like just a little too much effort now that he actually has access to such luxuries as money and shops. He'll use it as an excuse to fill out his wardrobe.

"I don't suppose you'd care to pay for the damages, as well? As a show of comradery."

He snorts and chuckles.

"As you say. Follow me...we won't be wanting to go out the front. The owners may not take kindly to the stains and trails of blood we're making and I don't care to bother with diplomacy with them."

He led the two of them to a side door and out. It let out to a little porch area with only two tables, assuredly meant for patrons who wanted a bit more privacy.

Taking a seat he crossed one leg over the other and smirked at the man.

"Great Maxwell," His tone was dripping with sarcasm and self satisfaction. "Would you care for a bit of my cape to wrap your wounds? As a show of...comradery."

Tap. Tap tap tap.

That’s it, he gives up. This blasted device has bested him once and for all.

“Does anyone here actually know how to use one of these ‘cell-phones’?”

{ 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."

It worked for their relationship. Sort of. In a way. That fight they had at least stopped some of their circling arguments in their tracks.

"Oh, certainly. They do so hate to see us having fun. But that's all the more reason for us to have a blast before they take away our toys."

Hah! The Librarian's lucky that the worst of Maxwell's ire bled out with his wounds last time.

"Only because you asked so politely." He gives the fox an exaggerated bow.

"Why don't you show me what you've got up your sleeves?" Technically, perhaps, they should wait to attack the "monsters" instead of the candy people asking for help, but personally, Maxwell just wants to watch his acquaintance wreak havoc-- regardless of who's caught in the crossfire.

"Oh yes." He chuckled darkly. "Many a time violence is the shortest route to a goal."

He hummed a noise. "And perhaps...this is a good assessment, yes. Take advantage of an opportunity."

Ah, abilities. "Yes, actually." He raised his rock candy wand. "I can only assume once our captors have had their fun that these powers will be taken back."

He looked over at Maxwell with a smirk.

"What is the saying?" He chuckled. "May I have this dance?"

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑 & 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄.

bold — applies.

italics — sometimes applies.

blank — never applies.

EYES. avoids eye contact when nervous, maintains eye contact when nervous. | avoids eye contact due to being neurodivergent, enjoys eye contact as a means to read and convey emotion. | looks down when emotional, looks up when emotional. | cries openly, wipes tears quickly, suppresses tears. | wandering gaze when lost in thought, holds gaze while thinking. | seeks out eye contact for reassurance, seeks out eye contact to gauge enthusiasm during conversations, eyes move constantly during conversation. | expressive eyes, emotions only evident through eyes, uses eye contact to intimidate. | looks up while thinking, looks down while thinking.

HANDS. clasps behind back, rests in lap, fidgets with clothes. | twiddles thumbs, chews at nails/skin, pushes back cuticles, draws patterns on table/counter surfaces. | animated gestures while speaking, only gestures to emphasize, utilizes sign language, speaks only through sign. | callouses, scars, smooth, wrinkled, worn, soft, delicate, boney, slender, thick, veiny. | touches others while speaking, reaches out while laughing, reaches out to comfort others, reaches out to seek comfort. | places face in hands when exasperated, places face in hands when exhausted, places palms over eyes to hide when overwhelmed, rests chin in hands. | taps fingers when impatient, taps fingers when nervous, taps fingers while thinking. | scratches scalp, strokes chin, rubs back of head, toys with objects around them, runs fingers over surfaces while walking by.

MOUTH. chews lip, chews at inside of cheek, licks lips, bites tongue, chews on straws. | resting frown, resting smile, neutral resting expression, resting pout. | grinds teeth, flexes jaw. | covers mouth when laughing, covers mouth when shocked, covers mouth when concerned, hands to lips while thinking, covers mouth when chewing, chews with mouth closed, chews with mouth open. | smirks, grins, subtle smiles, wide smiles, sad smiles, intimidating smiles, menacing grins. | openly smiles, tries to suppress smiles, bares teeth when angry, lips quiver when emotional. | stutters, speaks quickly, speaks slowly, good pronunciation, poor pronunciation, moderate pronunciation. | purses lips, sucks in lips, holds mouth open when shocked or confused.

LEGS. bounces leg when nervous. | draws knees to chest when sitting, draws knees to chest as a means of comfort, sits on knees, sits with legs crisscrossed, sits with legs spread open in chairs, crosses legs when sitting in chairs, sits with one leg folded under the other. | places feet on furniture, never places feet on furniture, sits on counters, sits on desks, sits on tables, sits on edge of seat, sits hunched over with forearms on knees, arches one knee up, sits on the arm of chairs/couches, feet on dashboard, swings legs back and forth when sitting somewhere elevated. | wiggles toes when nervous, wiggles toes as a general tick. | shuffles feet, kicks foot into ground, stomps feet. | loud footsteps, quiet footsteps, silent footsteps.

HAIR. runs fingers through hair, tugs at hair, picks at scalp, chews on hair, twists locks of hair while thinking or nervous, smooths out locks of hair while thinking or nervous. | prefers hair out of face, prefers long hair, prefers short hair. | wears hair back, keeps hair down, smooths back hair. | plays with other’s hair while talking, plays with own hair while talking, strokes hair to comfort others, likes having hair stroked for their own comfort, braids others’ hair while talking, braids own hair while talking. | flips hair out of face, pushes hair out of face, leaves hair alone even when falling into face.

tagged by: ---

tagging: @circvtry / @feralreason / @testingrealm !

The magician's brief flash of defensiveness quickly melts away when faced with Cecil's charm. This unique opportunity is beginning to sound better and better; who could be more well-suited for a job description of "look good and get admired for it" than Maxwell the Great?

"Trust me, I can work a crowd." He grins, flashing sharp teeth. All he needs to do is settle back into his stage persona and put some of his more abrasive traits to the side while on the clock. Easy.

"Oh, yes. That all sounds just fine."

"I do believe this is the beginning of a very profitable partnership for both of us. I look forward to working with-- for you. Is there anything else you need from me to make this official?"

❛ I will design your outfit myself, of course. ❜

❛ You must shine if you are in the front, no? ❜

His eyes are already making mental measurements as he studies Maxwell's body, going over color swatches and fabric options in his head and mentally pairing them with the best fitting mask...

❛ The job will depend on your strengths, ❜ Cecil continues. ❛ If you can speak, you will help sell my clothing. Otherwise, just wearing my creation is enough. Do you lounge? I will give you the tools and props for it, to fulfill my vision. ❜

maxwell playing chess with one of his shadow puppets and losing