Let's Play (by Post) STALKER - The SciFi Roleplaying Game

Yeah there's not much I can do until JKuz posts since it's a one-on-one conversation (if we count out Birch, of course), and unfortunately not much y'all can do either unless you want to butt in. The joys of non-simultaneous communication, eh?

Sorry my computer decided to collapse into a smoking pile of not-workingness, I'm posting from the repair/gaming shop right now. Computer should be fine in a little bit, just managed to mysteriously derp up my windows install while opening up a new browser tab somehow

L'Esprit waves her hand around, the cigarette leaving a trail of smoke behind it "Well, we 'ave only just met, I do not know what you need yet" She takes another drag on the cigarette, and tilts her head, expression unreadable "But I'm sure we could all work something out"

That's about as good as you're going to get from her (talk-wise anyway)

Nominal action.

Mr Smith paces back and forth.

(IC) I take a look around the tunnels behind us, using my flashlight when necessary, but not being over- enthusiastic about searching everything thoroughly. Once I'm satisfied that we're not being followed, I'll return to watch the conversation, but won't intervene yet.

NP: I await for Sullivan's response.

You know you don't need to label nominal actions guys, you just need to do them

As a note: stormbringer missed a post thursday, but I didn't have much for his guy to do while we waited for L'Esprit.

As the others stand by, L'Esprit replies to the man behind the door. Sullivan, in the interest of working something out, hesitates as if considering what to do in his head, and then responds with:

"Five hundred a head, a thousand for that clown Birch."

OC: Now don't jump to any conclusions, but is the slot in the door large enough for me to grab Sullivan by the nostrils? My second question (and also my first-reaction idea) is intimidate Sullivan a bit first. Thinking of using my network of contacts as leverage here by threatening Sullivan's reputation.

I feel into my pocket - knuckle duster - check. I have no intention of using it, not yet anyways but the touch of brass against my hand helps get me into the right mode of thinking I need to be in for this to work. My eyes are on Sullivan now and I take slow but determined step towards the door.

It's about two or three centimeters vertically, and double that across. Perhaps enough to fit your fingers through, but not usefully

I'd say that sounds like something you might try, certainly.

"What is this, an auction-house? We got a new bid? I said 500!"

I look around as if to give the impression that my words are for Sullivan's ears only. I take the final step forward and lean against the door with my right shoulder, my heard turned to the right but not enough to meet Sullivan's eyes.

"Sullivan is it? *I lower my voice quite a bit at this point, hoping Birch doesn't over-hear* Well Sullivan, I have a special book. It's not very big, and doesn't look very special. What it does contain is an impressive and ever growing list of important people around here, people whose word means something. Your name will be added to that book when I get back. I wonder what I will write next to you're name.... for instance what you're trying to pull right now? It would be a shame if someone had to fill this little role you play because you refuse to do straight business (I spice up the word 'little' with a dash of mockery and a clear helping of contained aggression).

With that said and done I walk away to join the others, still out of Sullivan's sight.

"Aah, I'm sure Sullivan is a reasonable businessman, Birch. Why don't ask him again, nicely". I give him a slight nod for him to proceed.

If we're out of earshot, I quietly mention to Fixer that if Sullivan doesn't start cooperating, we'll probably have to resort to slightly less orthodox negotiating tactics. I haven't heard them talking, so I have no idea what he's been saying.

Mr Smith walks over to where Haddock and Fixer are now conferring.

I nod in agreement. This has the potential to get ugly, I really hope my gamble works.

Birch follows your lead; for once he seems to have trust in you despite your intoxicated state.

"Well, how about it then?" he queries the doorman.

You all hold your breath for a moment as the man behind the door seems to consider his options.

"Did I say 500 each? I meant 500 together. Just pass the money through the slot here."

Birch gives Fixer a look of appreciation - clearly he hadn't expected that things would go so smoothly. Holding out a hand palm-up to the rest of you he inquires "well, donations?"

Mr Smith hands over his share of the money.

I hand my cash over, hiding the smile inside as best as I can.

(IC) I hand over my share, and will tell Sullivan that I'm quite pleased we were able to come to a reasonable agreement.

L'Esprit hands over the hundred euros as well - all she carries with her in a dangerous place like this.

Missin' posts from yesterday, movin' it along...

For a moment I swear I hear what sounds like a cough followed by the croak of a frog. Looking around I see no-one else seems to have heard it. Never mind then..

Mr Smith turns to look at Fixer, who seems to be behaving oddly. To be fair, he is drunk, so that's understandable. He shrugs.

Sorry, computer still isn't repaired yet. Should be fixed later tonight though.

A hundred Euros? That seems about right.

L'Esprit smiles happily as she hands over the money with a practiced flourish "It is soo much better when everyone gets what they want, no?"

I wait as everyone hands over their share, and comment to Sullivan: "Ve are pleased zat you vere so helpful. I zhall make sure to menzion your name to zhose looking for a Gate. Do not vorry, I am very careful about whom I trust with invormation, und your location vill not be compromised to ze authorities. "

Birch takes the gathered money and puts it through the viewing slot where it's vigorously received and counted.

"Alright, come in, but I don't want to hear about you spreading the word around. Institute would love to arrest guys like me, and it'd be a shame to have such a downright honest business partner in prison being tortured don't you think?"

Ironic, you'd imagine, doesn't even begin to cut it for this guy, though Birch lets loose a hacking cough and seems to flash a look of sympathy.

After entering the connecting room through the big metal door you find yourselves with time to rest under the watchful eyes of Sullivan - shotgun included. He's a bit of a short, heavyset guy with a stubbly beard and hair that seems to be flying the coop. Birch checks the watch on the inside of his left wrist, remarking "1 in the morning. We'll rest here until sun-up, then be on our way. Moving at night's too dangerous for you guys. Heck, I don't even like to do it."

I look around to examine our fine lodgings for the night. *OC - Beds, or floor?*

You get the stellar pleasure of sleeping, if you can manage it, on the cement floor with a blanket or whatever else you're brought for comfort. Not the comfiest thing in the universe, but the Zone isn't exactly built with bumper rails and mints on your pillow

Mr Smith finds the most comfortable-looking piece of floor to sleep on.