02-16-2017, 08:11 PM
"So, that's pretty much everything. Not much to it, but..." The bald man trailed off, unsure of where that train of thought had departed to.
An uncomfortably long bout of silence followed- Hammer waited for Dante to say something, while the red-coat killed time fiddling with the mechanisms on Ivory. He sat there idly on one of the corners of an antique wood desk, the old work creaking with every shift of his weight on the improper seat. His thumb pressed the magazine release, and his other hand caught the mag by the grip as it slipped from the pistol. Dante brought the left side of the magazine up so it almost consumed his whole field of vision, firmly inspecting the fine grooves of the container.
There really wasn't much else to say about the shop, indeed. The age of the shop hung clear in the inside air's slight mustiness. The room they sat in now was the main one of interest, an open square area housing all but one of the furnishings of the place. The desk Dante sat on felt like something out of the 19th century, and the grand total of two chairs were both part of a classical set, strictly rectangular in design. A thick leather couch probably past its lifespan sat against one of the walls, left under the cleft of the stairway leading to the overlooking balcony. One cot with a springy, disused mattress lay in the upstairs master bedroom, next to a completely bare office room. The downstairs rooms had a bathroom on the left (that worked, despite everything else) and a former lounge on the right, the latter used as a storage room for boxes full of whatever.
Overall, it was clear nobody had really properly lived in this place for a long time. The plain plaster of the walls, the unpolished floorboards, and at least one wiring hazard all spoke for that testament. A handful of different parties had probably operated out of this place, though, due to the hodgepodge upkeep of the different rooms. Dante suspected that Hammer knew - at the very least - one of these parties, though the devil hunter didn't presently concern himself over that brand of information.
"Yeah, it's kind of a fixer-upper," Hammer finally figured out something, anything, to break the agonizing silence, "But it's not exactly in bad shape. There's no asbestos, or leaks, or vermin- at least, I haven't seen any vermin. Point is-"
"Sure, I'll take it."
Dante's sudden interjection into the explanation caught Hammer off-guard- partly because he hadn't been expecting it so suddenly, and also because the red-coat hadn't said a word for the past ten minutes. By the time Dante had lined up the magazine's gooves and slid it back into the handgun, the former militant finally articulated a response: "Huh?"
"It's got all that, and running water. That's fine by me." The devil hunter leaned forward, slipping off his seat and onto his feet with a final groan of the desk. His boots clomped twice, one after the other on the sturdy floorboards, as he started twirling Ivory around his index finger. "I can just take care of the rest myself."
"Yes, well-" Hammer spoke up again, one of his big hands arching up behind his head to rub the back of his neck. "That's not exactly my problem, you being a Prime or whatever. It's, well..."
His gesture of concern continued, his hand hooking around the back of his neck while his elbow jutted out. Dante's gun lost its spin, running out of momentum and dangling by the trigger from his finger. The white-haired man turned his head slowly to meet his averted gaze, as his expression twisted in a show of his inner turmoil. "Err... how do I say this?" the bald-headed man mused aloud. His mouth turned crooked and frowned half-open, exposing his clenched teeth with his defeated eyebrows sagged on his brow.
Dante's forearm dropped down, his hand taking the opportunity to re-grip the pistol fully. "What, do I need to sign a deed, or something?" The devil hunter said, trying to speak the ex-soldier's thoughts- and to get him to stop making that weird face, seriously.
Hammer finally pulled his hand back down to his side, shaking his head. "Well, the thing is, first off, I don't own the place-"
The devil hunter snorted immediately at that. "No kidding," he exasperated, turning on his heels to point around with his handgun. "If you did, I'm sure you'd go though any amount of trouble to keep it tidy." That comment got an unimpressed look out of Hammer and his frown, and a smirk from Dante in kind.
"Look, remember what I said about that guy, The Lord?" The veteran snapped, crossing his arms and adopting a more blunt tone.
"Oh, so *he* basically owns the place. Got it," Dante looked away. He spun Ivory in a couple more loops around his trigger finger, before swiftly holstering the gun.
Hammer started to say something. Like what happened outside, the words got caught in his throat. Unlike what happened outside, the man merely huffed out after a moment and accepted the bluntness. "Sure, let's go with that," he decided aloud, the new pitch in his voice revealing his exasperation over this conversation. So, Dante thought, all that thinking was for trying to find a nice way to say that? If that was not the case, then he possessed something more different on the brain, and Dante couldn't imagine what the thought could be.
"Alright," the devil hunter shrugged, "You gonna tell me how to deal with that, or-?"
There came a foreboding shake of the head in response, and Dante's mouth left itself ajar, caught in midst of words he could no longer say. "Sorry, but I can't help you with that," Hammer explained simply, then elaborated after a moment, "I just- well, can't."
Dante snapped his mouth shut, raising a suspicious eyebrow very obviously. With that kind of vague struggling tone, that explanation seemed to come more from the realm of refusal, rather than inability. As the man before him offered little more than a shrug of his camo coat, Dante thought to bring this up, but at the same time doubted he would receive any sort of helpful explanation. If anything, it would probably be better to leave the guy out of this anyway, lest be end up as a casualty somehow in the event things got ugly.
"Not at all?" The red-coat asked instead, taking a step forward to face Hammer fully, coming face-to-face with the grizzly-looking fellow. "Not even a name, or a place?" When the ensuing twist of his bearded frown came, perusing his options, Dante dug in just a bit further- "You wouldn't just leave a guy to the dogs, now, would you?"
That seemed to turn the knife in his gut, like a key in a lock. His eyes, formerly sunken in with suppressed intentions, wrenched back open. He didn't want to consider that angle, but Hammer would have to accept that he would sooner or later, and it had just become sooner. Dante bore a good point, and while the veteran hated that, he found no other good choice but to respect the new merc's gall. Maybe, just maybe this Prime might have what it would take to do some proper justice in these parts.
Hammer looked around for a moment with renewed vigor. The walls, the pipes, the floor- they should be all clear. Last time he checked wasn't long enough ago that The Lord's men could've gotten into it. "The Underworld. Tell the man up front you need a deal with Diabolos," Hammer spoke in hushed breath, leaning in close for only Dante to hear it. He pulled away, and Dante could practically feel the man's heart throbbing a bit faster. "I'm sorry, that's all I've-"
"Ah, ah-" The devil hunter piped up suddenly, jabbing his index finger over Hammer's goatee-flanked lips. "Say no more. I think I can handle the rest." That curt smile Dante wore as he said that brought the ex-soldier even more stress, and he became afraid not of what the gang would do, but of what the Prime might do. Knowing one's fate could be bad enough, but to have that uncertain premonition of something terrible, without an idea of the full extent- it showed Hammer true fear.
Dante, in the meantime, walked back to the desk. He kicked up one of the classical chairs, steering it behind the desk upright. When the devil hunter plopped down in the chair with a reverberating creak and propped his boots on the desk cross-legged, the noise snapped Hammer from his momentary trance. "I think that'll be everything," Dante concluded, kicking back and propping his hands behind his head. "You can go ahead and hit the road; I don't wanna keep you from your business."
For a bated moment, the soldier-turned-supplier felt rather hesitant as to whether this was a matter worth seeing through or not. It did not take long for him to make a decision - that is, that Hammer very much did not want anything to do with this - and turn tail out the door, back into the cacophony of the city.
Dante smirked. Nothing against the guy, but it would be better without him for the time being. Besides, he would be needing some peace and quiet for the next few hours...
An uncomfortably long bout of silence followed- Hammer waited for Dante to say something, while the red-coat killed time fiddling with the mechanisms on Ivory. He sat there idly on one of the corners of an antique wood desk, the old work creaking with every shift of his weight on the improper seat. His thumb pressed the magazine release, and his other hand caught the mag by the grip as it slipped from the pistol. Dante brought the left side of the magazine up so it almost consumed his whole field of vision, firmly inspecting the fine grooves of the container.
There really wasn't much else to say about the shop, indeed. The age of the shop hung clear in the inside air's slight mustiness. The room they sat in now was the main one of interest, an open square area housing all but one of the furnishings of the place. The desk Dante sat on felt like something out of the 19th century, and the grand total of two chairs were both part of a classical set, strictly rectangular in design. A thick leather couch probably past its lifespan sat against one of the walls, left under the cleft of the stairway leading to the overlooking balcony. One cot with a springy, disused mattress lay in the upstairs master bedroom, next to a completely bare office room. The downstairs rooms had a bathroom on the left (that worked, despite everything else) and a former lounge on the right, the latter used as a storage room for boxes full of whatever.
Overall, it was clear nobody had really properly lived in this place for a long time. The plain plaster of the walls, the unpolished floorboards, and at least one wiring hazard all spoke for that testament. A handful of different parties had probably operated out of this place, though, due to the hodgepodge upkeep of the different rooms. Dante suspected that Hammer knew - at the very least - one of these parties, though the devil hunter didn't presently concern himself over that brand of information.
"Yeah, it's kind of a fixer-upper," Hammer finally figured out something, anything, to break the agonizing silence, "But it's not exactly in bad shape. There's no asbestos, or leaks, or vermin- at least, I haven't seen any vermin. Point is-"
"Sure, I'll take it."
Dante's sudden interjection into the explanation caught Hammer off-guard- partly because he hadn't been expecting it so suddenly, and also because the red-coat hadn't said a word for the past ten minutes. By the time Dante had lined up the magazine's gooves and slid it back into the handgun, the former militant finally articulated a response: "Huh?"
"It's got all that, and running water. That's fine by me." The devil hunter leaned forward, slipping off his seat and onto his feet with a final groan of the desk. His boots clomped twice, one after the other on the sturdy floorboards, as he started twirling Ivory around his index finger. "I can just take care of the rest myself."
"Yes, well-" Hammer spoke up again, one of his big hands arching up behind his head to rub the back of his neck. "That's not exactly my problem, you being a Prime or whatever. It's, well..."
His gesture of concern continued, his hand hooking around the back of his neck while his elbow jutted out. Dante's gun lost its spin, running out of momentum and dangling by the trigger from his finger. The white-haired man turned his head slowly to meet his averted gaze, as his expression twisted in a show of his inner turmoil. "Err... how do I say this?" the bald-headed man mused aloud. His mouth turned crooked and frowned half-open, exposing his clenched teeth with his defeated eyebrows sagged on his brow.
Dante's forearm dropped down, his hand taking the opportunity to re-grip the pistol fully. "What, do I need to sign a deed, or something?" The devil hunter said, trying to speak the ex-soldier's thoughts- and to get him to stop making that weird face, seriously.
Hammer finally pulled his hand back down to his side, shaking his head. "Well, the thing is, first off, I don't own the place-"
The devil hunter snorted immediately at that. "No kidding," he exasperated, turning on his heels to point around with his handgun. "If you did, I'm sure you'd go though any amount of trouble to keep it tidy." That comment got an unimpressed look out of Hammer and his frown, and a smirk from Dante in kind.
"Look, remember what I said about that guy, The Lord?" The veteran snapped, crossing his arms and adopting a more blunt tone.
"Oh, so *he* basically owns the place. Got it," Dante looked away. He spun Ivory in a couple more loops around his trigger finger, before swiftly holstering the gun.
Hammer started to say something. Like what happened outside, the words got caught in his throat. Unlike what happened outside, the man merely huffed out after a moment and accepted the bluntness. "Sure, let's go with that," he decided aloud, the new pitch in his voice revealing his exasperation over this conversation. So, Dante thought, all that thinking was for trying to find a nice way to say that? If that was not the case, then he possessed something more different on the brain, and Dante couldn't imagine what the thought could be.
"Alright," the devil hunter shrugged, "You gonna tell me how to deal with that, or-?"
There came a foreboding shake of the head in response, and Dante's mouth left itself ajar, caught in midst of words he could no longer say. "Sorry, but I can't help you with that," Hammer explained simply, then elaborated after a moment, "I just- well, can't."
Dante snapped his mouth shut, raising a suspicious eyebrow very obviously. With that kind of vague struggling tone, that explanation seemed to come more from the realm of refusal, rather than inability. As the man before him offered little more than a shrug of his camo coat, Dante thought to bring this up, but at the same time doubted he would receive any sort of helpful explanation. If anything, it would probably be better to leave the guy out of this anyway, lest be end up as a casualty somehow in the event things got ugly.
"Not at all?" The red-coat asked instead, taking a step forward to face Hammer fully, coming face-to-face with the grizzly-looking fellow. "Not even a name, or a place?" When the ensuing twist of his bearded frown came, perusing his options, Dante dug in just a bit further- "You wouldn't just leave a guy to the dogs, now, would you?"
That seemed to turn the knife in his gut, like a key in a lock. His eyes, formerly sunken in with suppressed intentions, wrenched back open. He didn't want to consider that angle, but Hammer would have to accept that he would sooner or later, and it had just become sooner. Dante bore a good point, and while the veteran hated that, he found no other good choice but to respect the new merc's gall. Maybe, just maybe this Prime might have what it would take to do some proper justice in these parts.
Hammer looked around for a moment with renewed vigor. The walls, the pipes, the floor- they should be all clear. Last time he checked wasn't long enough ago that The Lord's men could've gotten into it. "The Underworld. Tell the man up front you need a deal with Diabolos," Hammer spoke in hushed breath, leaning in close for only Dante to hear it. He pulled away, and Dante could practically feel the man's heart throbbing a bit faster. "I'm sorry, that's all I've-"
"Ah, ah-" The devil hunter piped up suddenly, jabbing his index finger over Hammer's goatee-flanked lips. "Say no more. I think I can handle the rest." That curt smile Dante wore as he said that brought the ex-soldier even more stress, and he became afraid not of what the gang would do, but of what the Prime might do. Knowing one's fate could be bad enough, but to have that uncertain premonition of something terrible, without an idea of the full extent- it showed Hammer true fear.
Dante, in the meantime, walked back to the desk. He kicked up one of the classical chairs, steering it behind the desk upright. When the devil hunter plopped down in the chair with a reverberating creak and propped his boots on the desk cross-legged, the noise snapped Hammer from his momentary trance. "I think that'll be everything," Dante concluded, kicking back and propping his hands behind his head. "You can go ahead and hit the road; I don't wanna keep you from your business."
For a bated moment, the soldier-turned-supplier felt rather hesitant as to whether this was a matter worth seeing through or not. It did not take long for him to make a decision - that is, that Hammer very much did not want anything to do with this - and turn tail out the door, back into the cacophony of the city.
Dante smirked. Nothing against the guy, but it would be better without him for the time being. Besides, he would be needing some peace and quiet for the next few hours...