"What about your client?" she asks, glancing back into the tomb, but fuck it, it's not her client. She pulls the door closed behind him, and on a second thought, nudges the broken lock out of sight with the toe of her shoe.
"Fuck my client for putting money in with a dead guy," he says, like he hasn't ransacked bodies before. But they were still warm then, not-- whatever was in that crypt.
He puts a hand on her shoulder, then starts running. After that shot, he doesn't really care anymore about being heard.
Tess chuckles and picks up her skirts to follow. Running isn’t a problem as long as she has them up, but she’s not planning to be sprinting for long; getting out of immediate line of attention is all they need, then their outfits can do the rest of the work.
The moment they clear the cemetery walls, she catches his arm to slow him.
He's breathing hard, mostly from the excitement - he's in good shape, and a little run won't tire him out. But it's a good thing that she's slowing him down, because he would have liked to just keep running, steal a horse, and get out of this damn city.
"Not all of them, no," she replies. Guns are, as always, her preferred business. "The Italian families are crazy, always screwing each other over, so I've been selling to them, but then there's protection rackets, bootlegging, brothels. Extortion's got competition, but you can't throw a rock in this city without hitting someone Black Hand gang has extorted, so rich people are real used to handing over money."
"Robbin' poor people, shakin' down brothels-- I don't care for that. Fine with killin' and lyin' and all such things," he's not some fake outlaw, "but I don't know. We always tried to do right by the people who need it."
"I'm always on the run," she replies, amused. "But now that you mention it, we're both dressed up real nice. I bet you and I could slip into a gambling room and have a bit of fun."
Tess decides, instantly, that her business meeting is completely off the table. Her partners can handle it, and she'll handle them if they don't. A riverboat sounds far more appealing. She gives his arm a playful squeeze, leaning into him for a second.
"Sounds perfect. I think I know a guy who will let us on."
"Knowing a guy is half my job," she teases, and she leads the way.
They are a brisk walk from the docks, and Tess indeed knows a man at the gangway who is one playful conversation from making a clerical error that allows them to board under another pair of names. Chronic no-shows, that Mr. & Mrs., they'll argue and argue with each other until they miss the boat. It won't be noticed until they dock again.
"There," Tess says, just a touch smug, as they stroll on. "That was easy."
"I admire that greatly," he says, with a little flourish. He opens the door to the first betting room, and they're greeted by a thick curtain of smoke, a loud room, the smell of liquor and money.
She's always felt at home in the chaos of competition, whether it's a smoky gambling parlor or a standoff with suspicious buyers or something, anything that gets her heart pounding. Places like this always end up being her favourites, and given how any time in them could be the time she gets busted, she likes to enjoy them like they're her last.
"You grab drinks and I'll find us some seats at a good table?"
"Don't need to," she replies, "already got my hands on you!"
Off she goes to the tables, stepping up into a table conversation like she knows everyone. She has people making introductions right off the bat, reaching out to shake hands and joking until people start moving chairs for her and her guest.
He looks at her while their drinks are being made, the way she's talking to people, notices how beautiful she looks in that dress - enough so that the barman has to raise his voice to get Arthur's attention.
He just tips him, ignoring that little lapse in attention. Because she's gotten them chairs, and there are hands to shake, introductions to make - Tacitus Kilgore, pleased to make your acquaintance - and cards to cheat at.
Tacitus Kilgore –– that gets a smile out of her, big and playful. She loves that kind of audacious stunt, using a name so unique and memorable that people will remember it but be completely unable to follow up with. She's Emma Oglesby, at least for tonight.
"You're such a dear," she says to him, taking her drink. "I was just telling our new friends here about our trip from up North."
"Awful weather up there," he says, his voice a low rumble as he settles in. "Glad to be back down South. Let's hope the winnings are better here, too."
Downplaying himself, a little, let people underestimate him. It works wonders - he loses a few hands, and then wins a few much bigger ones. He gives it over to Tess with a signal, as he pockets his winnings. He didn't even have to cheat. The energy in the room is making him feel happy, elated, giving him energy enough that he knows he wants to start walking around.
Tess finds it all too easy to fall into her usual ways: friendly banter, keeping other players talking, split three ways between conversation, the game and their drinks. Arthur raking in the wins makes it all that much sweeter.
She nudges him with an elbow playfully.
"You want to stretch your legs a bit, go for a smoke? I'm going."
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He puts a hand on her shoulder, then starts running. After that shot, he doesn't really care anymore about being heard.
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The moment they clear the cemetery walls, she catches his arm to slow him.
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He's breathing hard, mostly from the excitement - he's in good shape, and a little run won't tire him out. But it's a good thing that she's slowing him down, because he would have liked to just keep running, steal a horse, and get out of this damn city.
"I hate this place," he says, mostly disgruntled.
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"It has its charms," she informs him. "Mostly just in how much money's floating around, but it is there."
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He's still breathing a little hard, but he pats her hand mostly in an effort to calm himself down.
"Well, you'd have to show me, if you ain't got a stake in all of 'em."
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Extremely charming city, really.
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Arthur grimaces at that - none of that is to his liking. "I don't know. Maybe I should stick to grave robbin', but that's none too pretty, neither."
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"Robbin' poor people, shakin' down brothels-- I don't care for that. Fine with killin' and lyin' and all such things," he's not some fake outlaw, "but I don't know. We always tried to do right by the people who need it."
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He waves his hand and shakes his head. "Not my thing. Where're you takin' me, huh? We still on the run?"
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"Now that's what I like to hear. How 'bout one of them boats down in the harbor?"
Make it extra fancy.
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"Sounds perfect. I think I know a guy who will let us on."
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"You always know a guy," he says, not complaining. "Alright. Lead us there."
He seems to have forgotten he had a job to do at all. Fuck them. He'll get a horse and find his way back to camp tomorrow.
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They are a brisk walk from the docks, and Tess indeed knows a man at the gangway who is one playful conversation from making a clerical error that allows them to board under another pair of names. Chronic no-shows, that Mr. & Mrs., they'll argue and argue with each other until they miss the boat. It won't be noticed until they dock again.
"There," Tess says, just a touch smug, as they stroll on. "That was easy."
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"I admire that greatly," he says, with a little flourish. He opens the door to the first betting room, and they're greeted by a thick curtain of smoke, a loud room, the smell of liquor and money.
Arthur brightens immediately.
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She's always felt at home in the chaos of competition, whether it's a smoky gambling parlor or a standoff with suspicious buyers or something, anything that gets her heart pounding. Places like this always end up being her favourites, and given how any time in them could be the time she gets busted, she likes to enjoy them like they're her last.
"You grab drinks and I'll find us some seats at a good table?"
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He puts a hand on her back for a second and gives her a suave little grin before he nods and goes to do so.
"Don't go charmin' the other fellas in here, now."
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"Don't need to," she replies, "already got my hands on you!"
Off she goes to the tables, stepping up into a table conversation like she knows everyone. She has people making introductions right off the bat, reaching out to shake hands and joking until people start moving chairs for her and her guest.
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He looks at her while their drinks are being made, the way she's talking to people, notices how beautiful she looks in that dress - enough so that the barman has to raise his voice to get Arthur's attention.
He just tips him, ignoring that little lapse in attention. Because she's gotten them chairs, and there are hands to shake, introductions to make - Tacitus Kilgore, pleased to make your acquaintance - and cards to cheat at.
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"You're such a dear," she says to him, taking her drink. "I was just telling our new friends here about our trip from up North."
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"Awful weather up there," he says, his voice a low rumble as he settles in. "Glad to be back down South. Let's hope the winnings are better here, too."
Downplaying himself, a little, let people underestimate him. It works wonders - he loses a few hands, and then wins a few much bigger ones. He gives it over to Tess with a signal, as he pockets his winnings. He didn't even have to cheat. The energy in the room is making him feel happy, elated, giving him energy enough that he knows he wants to start walking around.
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She nudges him with an elbow playfully.
"You want to stretch your legs a bit, go for a smoke? I'm going."
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