Ymiden 46 717, 7th Break
Location: The Bronze Boar
"Yer kiddin' me!"
"Seriously man, that's really the only kind of dirt I've dug up." A dark headed man caked in dirt remarked with a shrug, Patrick could only sigh as he placed a mug of ale down for the guy.
"That's very helpful." Pat murmured sarcastically as he dipped a hand into his pocket, a few gold nel was placed next to the mug discreetly. "Thanks fer the attempt though. Keep yer ears t' the ground fer me." He instructed with a friendly pat on the shoulder, his attention moved on to the next early customer that settled within the bar. Unbelievable that there hardly seemed to be any word related to Syroa, it was as if she'd basically left Pat all alone after that night. Nobody around here had seen a person or creature by that description at all, or so the guy he tipped told him anyways.
That plus the fact nobody really knew what the Shadow Quarter were up to, which meant Pat had to think of a way to reach out to them. Alone. He hated the idea of getting his hands dirty, but so far what few resources he had came up short, almost none of them had anything useful in regards to info. Nothing about the damned chalice, nothing about Syroa either but thankfully, that also meant nobody knew what she did to him either. Then of course no sign of the Shadow Quarter yet, though that was something Patrick would approach himself apparently. If he wanted to gain their attention, then he needed to somehow be crafty about it before doing so.
"Maybe I can find one of their envoys or contacts. With a little bit of diggin, I can arrange a set up that'll confuse one of their shipments." He wondered as he approached a somewhat dreary fellow with dreads. "What'll it be fer ya mate?" He inquired with a tablet and inkwell, ready to take the man's order as he prepared for the rest of his day shift. It wasn't easy running on several breaks of sleep really, and it didn't help both of his jobs ate up most of his time. Now with this third and private job he was beginning to undertake, he really had his hands full these days. He could only hope that he'd catch a break soon, as he already felt flustered with what little he had to go on. When he'd listened for what the customer would order, Patrick simply worked to pour them their choice in drink. It had been simple ale really, somewhat the same typical drink the locals would order.
Mainly because it was cheaper and did the job, although many Rharnians found it difficult to be drunk off just ale. "Hey Patrick," The voice of Davoth cut off his train of thought, "Got a Trill?" As he slithered towards Pat with his query, the bartender gave a friendly smile to the Ithecal as he turned.
"Sure, what's up boss?"
"Did a little bit of asking around like you wanted me to, unfortunately it doesn't look like anything's turned up." The barkeeper slightly frowned at his lack of better news, Patrick decided only a shrug needed to be his first initial response. "If you don't me asking, why exactly do you need to find a place or cage that big?"
"Let's just say there's a pet loose in Rharne, a pet that needs t' be contained at best." Patrick answered vaguely as he turned to grab the washcloth, his hands already absent-mindedly polished some of the clean glasses on the shelf.
"A pet huh? Don't tell me it's yours." The Ithecal mused with his arms crossed, however their lowered voices suggested the conversation became serious.
"Not intentionally." Pat answered with a glance up to the man. "I wouldn't call it mine but unfortunately I can't just abandon it. Since it's original owner decided t' just up and leave."
"Is it the same one that gave you that bite?" Daveth prodded further as he leaned in closer to Patrick, a glance over their shoulders to make sure nobody paid too close attention.
"Yep." Pat answered quickly as he continued to wipe down glasses. "Can ya believe the bitch would leave me with such a dangerous creature." Of course he'd lied and blamed the bite mark on this false 'pet' he now owned, given the fact he didn't want to draw too much attention to the truth. If people had heard he'd been made into a monster by Syroa, they would no doubt do everything in their power to contain him... if not kill him before transforming. He was limited on the amount of people he could trust right now, and even the close people like Daveth were now liabilities with this kind of information.
"Definitely doesn't seem responsible of her." Daveth sighed with his arms crossed. "I'll keep checking in with my contacts, see if I can't pull a string of favors to learn something."
"Thank you." Patrick looked up to him once more with sincerity in his eyes, the fact Daveth didn't prod too deeply into this business made it all the easier to deal with. "The sooner you find something, the better my friend, I'm afraid time is of the essence when it comes to this matter."
"Then I'll get back to work, write a few letters while I'm at it." Daveth responded with a hand rested on Pat's shoulder, as he started to slither off back to the office, Patrick briefly thought for a moment about the subject. It then dawned on him that he could benefit from this, in more than just the way he first intended to be.
"Hey Dav," He murmured before the Ithecal had moved too far away, "Do me another favor while yer at it?" The barkeeper twisted around some to look down at Pat, an eyebrow raised to emphasize his curiosity. "See if ya can find out anythin' about a few private shipments within the Dust Quarter? Or at least pull a few strings t' get me an appointment with one o' the dock keepers, I'd like t' see if I can make a few friends down in Dust Town."
"Y' sure about that? You do know that Dust Town isn't exactly the most friendly place." He pointed out with a slight smirk.
"Well yeah, I grew up there after all. Remember?" He teased with his arms raised some. "I know what I'm askin' for mate, I just need t' reach out and meet a few people y' know. Make some friends in other places." As Pat finished explaining this Daveth started to snicker a little, his eyes glinted with intrigue as he responded to the bartender.
"Yeah sure, so long as y' know what it is you're doin'. Just don't go gettin' into too much trouble." He instructed as he started to slither off once more, a soft shake of his head made at the agreement of such a sudden request.
"Naturally." Patrick chimed as he resumed wiping glasses down with the cloth, only to pause as he watched the man head into his office. "Thank you!" He called out with a soft smile, aware that he'd been loud enough for the whole room to hear. Not that it mattered of course, that had been the end of their conversation. Afterwards Patrick turned around towards the door, aware that it had swung ajar to allow yet more customers within the place. "Welcome mates, come in and have a drink." He greeted the few that entered and once more rested the glass and cloth down, his smile lessened but still soft and friendly in their direction.
At that point he'd taken their requests for drinks mentally within his head, and proceeded to pour them within the corresponding containers. One wanted a couple of shots with a mug, another with a pint because he was the heavier drinker, and then the third wanted to drink three mugs of beer. When he finished their order he proceeded to an empty spot where a patron left, and gathered the dishware there to clean up and organize the seating area. Once he brought the dishware into the kitchens for another to wash later, he returned to wipe the surface of the table off afterwards. When that had been done he resumed tending to the group situated at the bar, engaged conversation with them to keep the Trills going by. Patrick hardly learned of anything special or particular with the lot, though they did well at keeping him occupied.
He'd more or less just joked around and aimlessly chattered with them, kept the conversation flowing so that he wouldn't be too bored. Being this early in the Trial made this business slower than usual, though it had started to reach that point where business would soon pick up. Which was what he needed after all, the more people Patrick got to interact with, the more he could learn in terms of rumor and gossip before the end of his shift.
