#fenixtj

Tweak comes up after the meeting and then some to see a recovering freeholder in the balefire room. Jessica's bruise is noticeable but not as bad as it was.

She's got an ice pack strapped to it, it's elevated on a chair, and she's reading.

"Yo, I gonna start callin' you 'punchin' bag.' "

The troll looks up. "Well. On the whole, I suppose there could be worse things you might call me."

She has a souped-up military-looking walky-talky on her toolbelt.

"Oh, ain' that th' truth. Who tagged ya?"

"Nasty Chimera. I took the horns and teeth, and if Tito Woden can't use them he'll pass them on to you. You'll have first dibs on the next one."

Ricardo the Llama pooka walks up with measuring tape, and starts to measure how tall Tweak is. Making notes.

"Sweet. Nothin' else, c'n make a grill ornament for th' Beast." Tweak moves over to the 'Fire and passes her fingers through it a few times, as one might play with a candle. "So...we got a situation that mighta been handled, but might ramp th' fuck up."

Jessica nods, setting aside her reading. "The Co-op?"

"Oh, yeah." Tweak nods. "I thinkin' I got ever'body but th' real brainwashed ones t' come on back to the group...but I'm betting Franzy-pansy an' th' Bitchy-Bianci gonna get loud."

Ricardo begins to measure Jessica's height, hard to do as she's sitting down but he seems to know her measurements pretty well already (Be disturbed or don't)

((Sorry, missed his first post.)) "Th'fuck you doin', Fur-face?"

He holds up the measuring tape, "Measuring With the thread of Lakeyjesus, so fates maybe determined with the giving begins!! Oh joy!" Happy Llama!

Jessica takes a deep breath. "Ricardo?"

Tweak blinks at him a couple of times, then swats him away. "Get away from me wit' that shit!"

"Yes, your immense bootedness?" Ricardo says to Jessica

"What are you doing?"

She repeats the question, but calmly, firmly.

"Oh joyous day your flinger of fieryfreedom!" Ricardo says "Soon, it shall be the time of Giving! Even a pooka who is pure of heart, may find themselves a pranking when the Highsummer is in bloom"

Tweak groans. "Oh. That."

A heavy sigh. "Right. Highsummer. Ok. Can you find me later for... whatever it is you're doing?"

"That th' shit you see 'em doin' in westerns, measurin' cowboys for they coffins." A scowl at the pooka.

"YES! If you're lost you can look--and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you--I'll be crushed by you
Time after time" The Llama Pooka begins to spring out of the room

"Well. Not far off, Tweak."

Jessica redirects her attention. "You were saying, Tweak?"

"Fuckin' hate this Pooka-fest," Tweak mutters, watching Ricardo go. Then she looks back to Jessica. "Bianci done got th' Crafters to sign off they resources t' her. She gots all th' Co-op's dross...an' I thinkin' she ain' just gonna deliver it back with a little bow and a 'Whoops, sorry' note. I think I got th' Crafters' hearts back...but wit'out the fundin', they gonna be screwed."

Jessica hears this gravely and nods. "Your Co-op generates its own dross, correct? Not just from the Freehold and Forge and Balefire."

"Yup. That part of what it mean to be in th' Co-op. But seem like she skimmin'...an' she funnellin' most of it to th' weapons makers, nobody else."

"Can you prove it? And, do you want to accuse her publicly?"

"Greasemonkey gots th' tally from before. I'm bettin' Moony c'n confirm th' numbers ain' been tampered with. So if'n th' numbers ain' add up, that count as proof. As for accusin'...." A sigh. "Fuck, sometimes I wish I the punk-ass kid I use ta be. I be all up in her grill in a heartbeat, but..." A noise from the walky-talky...a fussy baby sound, and Tweak freezes for a second, listening. The sounds subside into sleep breathing again, and she resumes. "I gotta do whatever it fuckin' take t' get her to return th' damn dross to th' Co-op. I gots t' confront her...just not sure which way be best."

Jessica can't help but smile briefly at the pause. Then she nods. "Well. If you bring it to me, I can have everyone in for court and try to sort it out but... that doesn't seem like the direction you want to go." Without rancor.

from the walky a familiar voice "yeah yeah I got it...damn, what's in the breast milk? castor oil? You leaving....damn, it's like scat cement..."

She thinks. "You know.... I only recognize -you-........." she trails off.

"Um. Do you need to....?"

Tweak grins as Nec's voice comes over the airwaves. "Nah, he gots it." She turns the volume down just a bit, but not all the way, so key phrases keep coming through. "B, I know you recognize me...but she done rescind th' weapon-makin' ban, an' if she supplyin' arms fer some other noble, you may gets a fight."

A grim smile. "Yes, but then -I- could do something." A deep breath. "But, it's still your ball. Until she makes it -mine.-"

"I only recognize -you- as the head of the Co-op. Anyone else is leading, and operating, outside of bounds."

"As far as I'm concerned, the weapons ban is in place; anyone operating outside of that is endangering the Freehold and the Fief."

"Feel free to let your folks know that."

"Yeah...yeah, a'ight." Tweak frowns, thinkin'. "Some shit do gotta change 'bout th' Co-op, though. Can't keep th' weapons makers hobbled, or they gonna leave for somewhere they c'n work. I done ask 'em, an' they gots some ideas. You wanna hear?"

"Yes." Sure.

(from the radio) "o geez, who pisses after they shit? After? No no, two after one, two after one..we ain't doing new math here"

Another lip-twitch. "If you'd had a boy......"

A smirk, and then she ticks reasons off on her fingers. "Weaponsmiths gotta be able t'Craft. They gots t'have th' right to refuse t' Craft fer somebody, no matter what they reason t' refuse be. Then, whatever nobles wan' weapons, Crafter gotta right to require 'em t' bid for first service. An' they gotta have th' right t' Craft weapons for they own use, whenever. Gonna be hard t' regulate where shit go on that las' one, but if it be a weapon an' it ain' being used by th' fucker what made it, they damn well better be a paper trail."

She nods slowly, listening carefully and nodding.

"For their own yes? Yes but if they 'lose' a weapon and it ends up in the wrong hands....."

"Paper trails."

"Those are all acceptable reasons to me."

"Well, some kinda fuckin' transaction record, y'know?"