If only it hadnt been for you meddling kids...

Still giggling, I shake my head. "I've got a soap that takes out blood stains, it'll probably work on that stuff...although your hair's rather nice, you might want to...hee...leave it..." Then I dizzolve into giggles once more. "I'll...hee...get the soap..."

Growling and muttering to herself, Lily stomps off to the bath again, slamming the door behind her. As she stands in front of the mirror, staring at the deep purple of her hair, still dripping dye on the porcine and the back of her hand leaving dark tracks as they run down to pool on the counter-top. Cursing, she slides down the wall, stopping with a bump as she reaches the floor.

Chuckling, I carry the soap to the bathroom. "Lily, here, got the soap!"
Nothing.
"Lily?" I call. Why doesn't she answer?

I sit at the table my head tilted to the side, the prank left Lily a bit off, hmm, thought it was just a bit of harmless fun. faucet I grab a quick glass of water, this could be a long day i think

Pushing up, she gropes at the door knob pulling it open enough to reach a hand through. "Thanks," she says softly, voice inches from choking.

I cock my head at the tone of her voice. Stepping forward, I slip neatly inside, shutting the door. "You know what you ought to use on him? India ink. It can't be scrubbed off no matter what you do." I wink...but the grin falters at the expression on Lily's face.
"Oh Lily." I take a seat on the toilet. "You know Liam only teases the ones he takes a liking to. And I can't resist a good prank. Blame it on my blood. We didn't mean to..." I shrug, unsure of myself. "We meant nothing by it."

Attempting a smile, and falling somewhat short, Lily looks at her feet, "I guess I'm just not used to pranks being innocent." Reaching up, she twists her hair... "Sticks out a bit more, don't it; You said you liked it, or where you teasing?"

I smile. "Lily, you're too pretty to worry about the color of your hair. Any color would look good on you, with such a pretty face." She looks away.
"Okay," I say, straightening, "Let's at least get your skin fixed."
In a little time, the lavender tint is lifted from Lily's skin, and mostly from her hair. I wink at Lily. "I say you pour some ink in his tea. His teeth and his tongue will be blue for a week, unless he scrubs them out with soap. What do you think?"

"Maybe." she sighs, "But best ta be waiting. He expects it now." Smiling wolfishly, "I'm not completely ignorant o' the way o' pranks."

I wink hugely. "If you want any help, I'm up for it. Been a long time since I got in on a battle of wits." I glance over. "Not that Liam's all that much of an opponent..." I grin impishly.

Giggling, Lily manages a tentative hug before rising to leave the room. "Ah, an' I got the time to wait out the ol' man."

With a smile, I turn down the hall. A couple of English muffins will be nice after the fish I had earlier.
Sitting down with a plate, I glance at a note on the table. 'Thanks for the hospitality,' it reads, 'Mathias.'
So, the eccentric fellow found a way home after all.
Once my meal is finished, I stand, pulling on my jacket and satchel. Liam glances at me and Ignacy moves as if to get up, but I wave them away. "I'm in the mood to sing, lads, and it's time I was busking any road. I'll be back in a bit." With a wave, I turn, and head out into the Nightside.

It's a good night for my work. I have to empty my hat several times before I'm anywhere near tired. The crowd is fairly good, and they tip well, especially on the dirty songs. Happy with the few hours' work, I tuck my earnings and my collection hat away, turning down a cobbled street. I think something at the Hawkswind before I head home would do nicely. And perhaps I'll take a tray of something from their bakers home to share. Humming an old tune, I stroll through the myriad crowd. It's nice to be out and about for no other reason than my craft again. It's been a while since I had the chance to simply enjoy the work.

Walking down the street, the tall figure recognizes the woman he and his companions have been trailing from the shadows most of the day, a pretty thing with a beautiful voice. unfocusing for a moment as a memory of one of her songs drifts through his mind, he shakes his head to clear it before altering his course to intercept. Two of his companions walk behind and two the sides, anticipating any turnings she might make.

The crowds thicken a moment, and he takes the opportunity to push through the last few yards and with a practiced air, sets his hand on the strap of her satchel and cuts it away, continuing to walk through the press as he tosses it deftly over the heads of the crowd to one of his companions before turning back to his mark. The other turns and lunges down a nearby ally, followed closely by the second.

With a yelp of shock, I turn, but the bastard's already gone with my travel bag. My bag! With a snarl, I take off. They are not taking my satchel if I can help it. Dodging through the crowd, I draw my blade. He's there-my bag goes sailing through the air-there-my jog becomes a sprint. I don't waste breath calling for help, not in the Nightside. I put on another burst of speed, careening down the alley after the man who has my bag. He will be giving it back, whether he would or no.

Smiling silently to himself, the perpetrator of the initial crime doubles back, following in the woman's wake as she charges snarling past him, knife in hand as she peruses his colleges. Stopping at the corner, peers around, seeing the mark look back in forth in curiosity and anger as she stands over her bag, obviously dropped about mid way down the narrow alley

Panting, I skid to a stop. He dropped my bag. After all that trouble. Why did he drop it? It isn't heavy, and though now I wish I had I never put any particularly vicious charms on it.
Warily, I stoop, lifting it by the slashed strap. I can feel the hair along my spine prickle. It's dark down here. Dark, and I'm alone. Something's wrong...
A footfall makes me turn. There's someone else down here. I hiss, letting my teeth grow otter-sharp. "Back off, asshole!"

"Easy, sweetheart," The tall man croons, "We weren't payed to hurt you." Two more figures drop from their hiding places up the walls of the alley, blocking any retreat from the rear. "Our employer is less interested in you then your... associate; though I would figure that after that last run in you had with him, he may have words for you." The man's voice is cultured, with a distinct lack of accent, as if it had been carefully breed out, not at all the type of entity you would expect to pull a snatch job on the street. Shadows mask his face, while a well cut suit covers any distinguishing marks.

"You can tell your master to go and boil his fat head!" I hiss, "And all the money in the world is worth nothing if your nuts have been stuffed down your throat. Back off." I weave my blade through the air, grinning at the whistle it makes.

The sting in my shoulder is like a hornet's, sharp and acid. I bark in surprise, throwing up a hand to feel...a dart. Oh no. This is not good. I turn sharply. Another hornet's sting, fire arching in my neck. I cry out. Damn them.
"Cowards!" I shout, turning at bay. Not one man. Three. Three of them. I turn, but my feet don't seem to move the way they ought. Something in my blood...poison...heal it...I raise my voice, but my gift is...so hard to reach....
A hand on my shoulder. My blade moves....slow, slow...but I smell blood, and feel it connect. The hand drops. I try to pull my knife back, but...stuck...caught on a rib... I kick out. What's wrong with my leg? Why won't it hold me?
Men over me. Words, men's voices, but they make no sense...What's wrong with the light? Why can't I see properly? I need to get up,need to fight... I hiss, baring my teeth...
Pain.
Blackness.

Watching as the young beauty slumps the ground, two feathered darts in her back, the man shakes his head and clucks his tongue. The injured party clutches his wounded side and hand while his mate turns to assist. "Leave him," the leader barks; the other makes as if to protest before meekly stepping back. The wounded stares aghast as his boss stretches his hand and brushes the side of his face. A look of pleasure drifts over his features and he falls against the wall, as if asleep. "Pick her up. We have places to be." With out further word, they collect their prize and slip out into the night.