Steel and Hair Dye

Lower Trades, Slatesteel Services, Morning

Upon this grey weather day, where the sun is hidden yet the heat of the summer is in full force, one workshop out of many along the Lower Trades of Alexandria is abuzz with activity. This one has the workbenches strewn about with various projects upon them in an open air room that faces the road, with a door to the back that presumably leads to a forge with the way a chimney billows smoke out the back.

Upon the workbenches is that of a Eldanar man, him down to sleeveless shirt and sweating amongst the general heat of the workshop. On the workbench is a set of well made scale mail, the plated arm detached and disassembled, and in his hands is a file as he's carefully shaving away parts of a connection hinges. He wipes his brow with his scarred arm, the tattooed symbol of Serriel flashing by as he huffs and resumes his work.

Beside him is a Khazad woman, middle in age with some grey in her red hair and ragged scarring on the side of her face, has her arms crossed, watching him work. "eets gonna snap if ya twist, ya now?" she points out, her in a blacksmith's apron.

Warrick grunts. "Not if I put more padding in it."

The Khazad woman rolls her eyes, scoffing.

The click-clack sound of wooden sandals on cobblestone precedes the Goblin woman by about a half block. Simony, resplendent in a green summer dress that clings to her upper body, but billows out at her legs, walks along with a cheerful bounce in her step. Her fingernails and toenails are painted a sky blue. She skips past Slatesteel Services, but slows and stops, backing up to peer into the open air room.

The Gobbo observes quietly for a time, watching the fussing over the plate armor. She quietly slips inside, moving closer for a better look at the work involved.

Warrick continues to file for a moment longer before the woman beside him suddenly reaches out to grab his elbow. "Woah woah woah, eet's gonna shear if ya do anymore, Rick," she advises with a huff.

He stops, looks up at her, sighs, and puts the file down.

The blacksmith smacks his back, "Yer fussin' with the metal too much, Rick. Gotta learn ta let it be- oh!" she looks over to Simony. "Sorry lass, can I do anythin' for ye?"

Warrick looks over, perks, and waves at the gobber. "Simony," he greets, smiling lightly.

Simony blinks in surprise, peering up at the Khazad woman owlishly. "Oh, hello. My apologies, I was simply curious as to what Warrick was working on. I didn't mean to startle you. Erm. Is it okay if I watch?"

The Goblin grins brightly at Rick. "Hello Rick! How're you doing? And what are you attempting with your armor, if I may be so nosy as to ask?"

"Pssh-naw," the woman grins, waving a hand. "Jus' makin' sure me customers get handled. Except him. Freeloader," she jabs a thumb over her shoulder towards Warrick.

The Eldanar man snorts. "You'd be mad bored without me here, Cap," he retorts. "Doing alright, Simony. Just... fixing something."

She rolls her eyes, in good nature. "Yeah yeah. His knee locked up during somethin' wit' like, cosmic shit or whatever. Just teachin' him how ta tweak stuff." She pulls off a thick leather glove and offers a calloused hand to the gobber. "Name's Slatesteel, I take it yer Rick's friend?"

She inspects the hand curiously a moment, seemingly admiring the callouses. Her comparatively tiny hand is thrust into the Khazad's and she shakes enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you Slatesteel, my name's Simony Smithsdottir. Yeah, Rick and I have done several guild missions together, and he's taught me how to do handspeech and merctalk. I think we're friends!" The Gobbo eyes Warrick a moment for confirmation.

"I owe him." She shuffles a little closer, eyeing the piece more closely, eyes picking up the filing work. "Ah.. it was a standard make of armor, and now you're adjusting it more to your body, Rick?", Simony wonders.

Slatesteel grasps the hand in a firm grip, returning the handshake, the scarred side of her face tugging upwards. "Captain Dinath Slatesteel, retired," she grins. "Pleasure ta meet ya Miss Smithsdottir!" A glance over to Warrick, a brow raised. "Oh did yae now?"

Warrick pulls the plate towards him, getting some padding. He glances to Simony, gives a light smile. "We are," he confirms firmly. "Simony sells herself short. I owe her as well, as she has healed us to keep us going on numerous occasions." He nods. "She was very receptive to learning the two. It's easier on missions now that she's scooped that up."

A glance down to the padding. "It was non-standard already, Slatesteel made it. I'm just adjusting it for nuances, yes."

"Bloody man always gotta adjust /somethin'/!"

"Retired? Do Khazad actually do that?", the Gobbo says with a giggle. "And you wouldn't happen to be the source of Warrick's colourful Khazad language, would you?" <Khazad> Another giggle. "He has to get it from some where. And... I lean towards selling myself short because overselling myself leads to disaster."

She looks to Warrick. "I think you and I should teach it to the others who would join us on missions. That way, we can efficiently communicate, in silence if need be, in short, efficient sentences when we can afford to make noise. Though perhaps investing in a few message wands might work too."

The Goblin eyes the armor pieces, and the padding. "Ah, that's a pain, have to file a bit, wear it, use it, file it a bit more."

Slatesteel snorts. "If they didn't retire me, I'd still be in th' Watch!" she cackles back in her native tongue. "And meybbe! What kinda shite ya been picking up, Rick?"

"Sod off!" <Khazdul>

"Eyy!" she cheers.

Warrick nods in agreement. "The others should at least learn Merctalk. It's not the most practical in daily life, but it helps quite a lot when doing dangerous things." He sighs lightly, putting a plate down once the padding was attached. "Yep. When we were dealing with the... book thing, my knee buckled. Just making sure that doesn't happen again. Little issues like that can lead to bad outcomes."

The Gobbo nods to Rick, "Oh yes, I recall. That really hurt, didn't it?" She snorts at Slatesteel, and giggles lightly. "I am happy that you were able to retire while still in good health, Slate. Erm... if I may call you Slate? And you as well, Rick. Glad you get to have time with your daughter as she's getting quite tall."

"Yeah, merctalk has limited use, unless all you're doing all the time is fighting. Something I wish Ous would get out of." Simony rubs at her chin. "Handspeech has more utility I think, there's a number of deaf people in the city. Pff, and not a few thieves too."

Warrick rubs his side. ".. yep. It hurt. Thankfully you fixed it before it became an issue." The talk of his daughter gets a light smile out of him. "... yes, she is getting quite tall. Don't think she will beat me, but she'll get darn near close."

Slatesteel crosses her arms and leans back against one of the workbenches. "Aye dinnae mind," she shrugs at the nickname. "Least I get ta keep workin' on what I like. I still gotta couple centuries left in me!"

The Eldanar nods, pushing aside more plates to pick up a gauntlet. "Considering Handspeech is my native tongue, yes, it's far more useful. My parents are deaf," he notes. "And... yes, thieves used to use it quite often. They thought they were being slick when being arrested with their subtle motions."

"Haha, that must have put a sly smile on your face, I'll bet, Rick." The Gobbo's grin is broad and full of teeth. "And that's my job.", she says with a gesture of her hand. "Keep people from getting too hurt or dead. And smacking bad guys with my warhammer."

Simony's expression takes on a bit of a jealous tint. "Think I could borrow one of those centuries that you're not using yet? I'll give it back, gently used." Even more teeth appear in her smile, and she laughs.

"If you have any worry that she's going to be taller, you just have to pat her head firmly every day, also push down on her shoulders too. That'll give you juuuuust enough space to remain taller."

Slatesteel laughs. "Ye can have the one where I can't walk for shite or hold an axe," she grins.

Warrick chuckles. "We'll see if she hits another growth spurt before too long," he muses, turning the gauntlet over in his hands and getting a touch lost in memory. There's a blink, and he shakes his head with a chuckle. "I'm sure if I did that, she'd probably throw some sort of prank my way." He looks over Simony briefly. "So... just out for a stroll today?"

Simony giggles at length at Slatesteel. "I don't know... that means you get stuck with the one where you're not sure if you can hold it til you get to the privy." She huffs. "It's no fun wetting yourself just outside... kind of a big tease, you know?"

The Gobbo nods to Warrick. "Yes, I've been practicing a new painting technique, I'm going to be painting a fresco on someone's ceiling. It's hot, sticky and messy work as it is, and the weather isn't helping. I figured if I have to be hot and sticky, I'm going to be outside, at least the sun is blocked and I won't get a nasty burn. I might even go swimming."

She giggles once more and nods. "Yeah, like dying your hair or something."

The dwarvish woman rolls her eyes and snorts. "At that point, jus' have Reos bloody take me, save my arse from embarrassment."

Warrick nods, his brows raising. "A fresco? That's an undertaking and a half. My wife did a few of those before. What's it going to be a painting of?" he asks, unbuckling the gauntlet from the plates.

He pauses. "... not like she's done it before..."

"It was /the/ funniest shite!" Slatesteel pipes in.

The Goblin tries very hard to not smile when Warrick mentions his daughter having done so before, and as a few snorts break out, she gives in to the giggles. "Some of your friends are bad influences. In my defense, I told her it's not nice to change your hair colour without your permission."

Her expression is honest at least, but she can't help but giggle a little more.

Simony nods to Warrick then. "Yes, it is a heck of an undertaking. However, this room is a study, so it's relatively modest. I expect a few months of work. The fresco is going to be of a night sky fading into day, or the reverse, depending on how you interpret it. The night sky will have wonders that have been seen by the Chalice Observatory, while the day sky will have a variety of fey beings of a good nature. That along should probably inform on whom I am painting for."

Slatesteel grins. "Jus' a bad influence ta make him not so grumpy! Ya shoulda seen it, it was green!" she cackles.

Warrick, without breaking his deadpan expression, simply state, "It won't stop her, Simony." But then, a light smile as he says in a rare expression of softness. "It's fine. She can do it if she wants to. I'll just pretend to be shocked about it."

He raises a brow. "That does sound very complicated," he mentions. "And quite a nice sight to see. Good subject to have."

"You are familiar with my patron, Warrick. I'll ask them if you'd be allowed to visit, and if I am allowed to say who they are. I'd be happy for the company from time to time. And uhm I'd be happy to show off a little." She scuffs at the ground a little with her foot. "But uh, I will leave you to your work now, okay?" Simony steps forward to hug at the man, and after a moment's hesitation, she hugs at Slate as well.

"Nice meeting you, Slate! And it was good to run into you again, Warrick. Say 'lo to Cynthia, okay?" The Goblin bounces a little, and then clatters off down the street."

Warrick nods once, a light smile cresting his features. "That'd be nice. Can take Cinny with me. We can at least appreciate good art," he chuckles, setting plates aside as an arm comes down to return the hug briefly.

Slatesteel makes a noise as she's about to get hugged, her moving the blacksmithing apron out of the way so she wouldn't mess up the gobber's clothes. "Ya a hugger," she chuckles. "Nice tae meet yae!"

"I'll tell her you said hello, see you later," Warrick mentions, watching the Navosian leave.

There's a moment of silence, Warrick working, Slatesteel putting her gloves back on. "... I'm glad, Rick. Yae comin' 'round," she mentions quietly.

"Slowly," he murmurs, picking up a file.

"Slowly. But yae are." A beat. "Just like yae slowly fuckin' up me steel- PUT THAT THING DOWN RICK OR IMA KICK YER ARSE-"

Warrick files faster.