Carys_icon.gif Varric_icon.gif

Scene Title Hiring Jenny
Synopsis Varric hires a Red Jenny
Location Varric's Suite, The Hanged Man
Date Justinian 27, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For An oddly perceptive nickname
Logger Varric

Varric is sitting at a table that obviously doubles as a desk. A large book is open in front of him and he seems to be busy balancing accounts of some sort. Carys' entrance doesn't even make him look up. "Come have a seat! I take it you're here to sign up for the expedition?" NOW he's going to look up. "The interview comes with ale, if you're interested."

Kirkwall's nice and all (hah) but sometimes a gal has to stretch her legs or else she'll go stircrazy from cabin fever. … Or crazier if you ask anyone that actually knows her. Hence, Carys jumped at the word that someone was planning to go somewhere that might be more exciting than plotting the demise of the Gallows Statues. And so, here she was, having been directed to Varric's, er… office? Yeah. She's dressed for the part, having shown up in her leather-and-chain as she figures that would probably go over better than a skirt and corset. She's not that sort, really. The room she's shown to is immediately given a once over, violet eyes obviously appraising the more obvious decorations—not in a 'that looks neat' but more like 'Hmm, that had to cost a bunch' or 'He totally got ripped off if he paid more than 5 sovereigns for THAT piece of dung' sense.

"Thank you," she says at the offer of a seat, before she claps her hands with a grin. "Oh! My favorite sort of interview. Is it strong ale?"

Varric laughs. "Strong enough to make you happy, not strong enough to knock you out before you hit your bed. I'm going to guess you're not here to offer a cart, so which is it? Fighting, hunting, or pathfinding? Those are the three with the highest pay. If you make a find, you get a cut of the sale plus your pay. If you have any next of kin or someone you want your pay to go to if you don't make it back, you'll need to write their name on the contract." With that, he pours a mug of the promised ale and sits back to wait.

Carys waits until the mug is poured before she answers as this gives her a chance to formulate exactly how she's going to respond. And she still doesn't answer until she takes a sip of the stuff, and gives a nod of appreciation. After another drink—this one more of a sizable gulp instead ofa tentative sip, she offers, "Probably a bit of the first and the third. I'm good at findin' stuff… gettin' into stuff. Stuff other than trouble that is. If that's a skill set you think you can use? But I'm a fair deal at stabbin' things if need be."

Varric nods. "Jill of all trades, then. Fair enough." He unfolds a parchment that's set with a grid with spaces for names along with payscales. "You put your name here, sign down at the bottom." He points to the promised higher rate. "I'll keep track of anything you find and make sure you get your fair cut. Partners get half, hires get a quarter— could be more, depending on the haul. If you find something impressive, we'll reward that."

"Somethin' like that," Carys mumbles at his assessment. "But if you need a lock busted, I'm yer gal," that's about as close as she's going to come to outright admitting to a stranger/prospective employer she's a thief. She takes the parchment and she holds up a finger. "Lemme just read it really quick. Gotta be mindful of the fine print." She then flashes him a bright smile, that impish quality so prevailent in her personality shining through, "Ah, I don't mind much the money. I'm just wantin' t'come along for the ride for the giggles." She pauses and looks like she's thinking. "Not that the deep roads has ever been associated with 'giggles', but you get my point right? Opportunity t'see somethin' different and all that rot."

"Fair enough, Jenny. You'll still get your pay. However you dispense with that is up to you. Personally, I'd warn against ale and whores unless you're looking to spend it in Hightown." Varric isn't a guy who judges, ok? "Oh, you'll see things. Hopefully things that don't move or try to kill us, but I'm not going to count on it. Bring your own weapons, provisions are already taken care of unless you want to bring something for an emergency."

At his comment about 'Jenny' Carys blinks for a moment and gives him a sidelong look, obviously assessing him. And then she's grabbing the writing utensil and filling in the appropriate blanks. 'Carys' is the name and the bit about next of kin or whatever should she end up dead has 'Donate it—that clinic works'. Then she spins it around and pushes the contract back with her signature. "Eh, I'll leave the whores to those who're into 'em."

Varric laughs again. "It's a habit. I give people names to suit them. Helps me remember, and if anyone asks and you don't want to be found? Well, they can't get the right name from me." There you have it. He's cautious for EVERYONE. "As long as you do your part and keep it honest, that's all that matters." The comment about whores gets another grin. "That's the smartest answer I've heard all day. Keep a look out for carts gathering near the market in Hightown. If you don't see 'em, I'll get word to you." He has friends.

"It's just… kind'a funny," she says,s hrugging. But she's amused. "I do the same thing. I'm gettin' a collection of 'em because half the time I make up names for people instead of waitin' around for them t'give me somethin' t'call them. But," she taps the tabletop, "That is what I'm actually called." Whether it's her actual name or not, who knows! She then quirks a grin, her nose wrinkling just a little at the comment about whores. "Ah, I never eat at a place where I don't know where the food comes from."

Varric shrugs. "Suit yourself. It all comes from farms nearby. I didn't want to trust importing anything for this aside from the ale casks. We may be able to pick up some nugs once we're down there, but you can't count on it. We don't know what's down there to hunt them." He waits for the ink to dry and places the parchment back in the drawer. "And whoever comes to look for you will look for that name. Me? I have so many friends I have to assign them names or they start to blend together."

"I was making a comment about whores, not food," Carys offers quietly. And her nose wrinkles again about the mention of nugs. "Had worse," she admits. She plucks up her mug and then drains the rest of it. Which is considerable considering she'd only taken a swing once prior to it. "S'good stuff, serah."

Varric raises a hand to fend off the 'serah'. "Please, it's Varric. I like for people to call me by my name. Puts me on the same level with them. It's more comfortable for everyone. Fereldan ale. Had it brought in before things got bad. Figured folks could use a little taste of home." Which means he's actually let those folks have some, but he's not going to say it out loud. "There'll be more of that on the supply wagons. We may as well let our tongues have some sunshine, since we're not going to see any for a while."

"Fair 'enough, Varric," she easily returns. "Huh, if I knew they had good brew when I was there, I'd'a started my drinkin' career earlier." She eyes the mug as if trying to figure out how to get it to magically refill itself. "'Bout how long d'you think this'll take?"

Varric sits back as if he's considering his answer. "Well, that's the thing about these sorts of trips, you expect to be gone two, maybe three weeks and it somehow becomes longer. So plan for that. We're bringing enough provisions to cover it. Since you signed on, you can give that mug to the barkeep and he'll refill it with the same. Call it a sign on bonus." Which is when he stands to pick up a box that he tucks under his arm. "I'm going to make a delivery to a friend."

"Huh." Carys then beams. "Alright! Time t'go get myself fired from Lady Prissypants's kitchen!" She throws her hands up in a decided 'WHOO! geture before making her exit.

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