CoR Rust and Iron

Anyone could offer cash, but favours? What kind? This woman, forgive his assumptions, didn't look the type to offer certains kinds of favours as she had said. So maybe she meant drugs, or saying hello to him when she passed him by on the street. Fuck, was she another like... Named rank of the Bloodstones?? Did he have a bad luck magnet stuck to his ass? Grisham narrowed his eyes at her.

"What else are ye paying for, huh? And what sort of favours do you mean?" He asked, looking around for a second to make sure everyone was content with what they had and nobody was trying to get his attention or anything. He'd probably hear them anyways, if they were.
 
"Oh, I'm not the one you want for favors. I'm more of the anti-favor." He seemed like a decent sort, and so Rhetta decided to do the decent thing and not elaborate. Maybe she was turning into a favors-person, after all.

She shrugged, though, and took the rest of his question more seriously. "Really, though? Bloodstones have been through the shitter. Everyone knows that - and that's the problem. People want to start trouble. So, you hear something about someone planning something? That's the sort of information that people would pay for. Better to be the one who's informed about that sort of thing."

"For fucking once." The last was muttered more quietly, under her breath. Life went on and all - sure, it had been going on for five years, but it would have been great to have a tip that the police were planning a sting on that operation five years back rather than having someone tell them about the Bloodstone plans and screw everything up. Sel would have gotten it.

"I know the Iron Jackals were scoping things out for a while." That was a hint, though whether he followed up on it and found anything out about them... again, his decision, not hers. But it was a direction to go in, if he wanted to be pointed in a direction.

"And, you know... there's always considerations. If people start giving you or Marcellus trouble and the Pack knew you were the helpful sort, well, I don't know. I guess I'd consider inviting some of them to an organ concert."

This was not, her tone said, anything to do with music. It would be Rage's call, of course, but that was what the First did. He called the shots.

Rhetta just enforced.
 
He listened to her, and then left to pour a couple of drinks and bring someone a beer. He waited until he was at a decent distance from her to shudder. An organ concert? what the Fuck? It was interesting to know however, that the Bloodstones were going through a hard time. Maybe that sort of explained why he had gotten beaten up for telling them to haul ass to keep up with territory. He'd apologize, again, especially to the guy he caught on the street and barked at. But this woman didn't know what he had done, for now, and he wasn't going to tell her.

"I guess you'll have to come check on what I have to say from time to time, maybe bring friends. Here's where I work after all." He told her once he was back, after a bit of actually working.
 
Rhetta sat quietly for a while, watching the bartender check on the other patrons, demanding nothing, listening in to little snippets of conversation here and there. She was all for the aggressive approach, sure, but her mother had always insisted there was a lot to be learned by listening, especially if people didn't know what you were listening for. It wasn't exactly her forté, but she knew at least enough of the theory to work with it once in a while.

Raven had apparently had enough time to figure out what he was going to say next, or just work up the courage to say it. She gave him a little nod at the invitation, and a "Maybe I will."

She did have to wonder, though, if he knew exactly what he was offering, and who exactly her friends were. He ought to have at least some idea - Thirteen had pegged her as a Bloodstone quickly enough, and Rhetta hadn't denied it. Maybe he didn't know he was offering the place up as a Bloodstone hangout, or maybe he did and had decided it was the best way to play it safe.

"Are you the one responsible for all the bleach?"
 
Maybe she would, and that was business for the bar so... good. More Bloodstone presence was also likely to keep other bastard gangs away, and to encourage vandalism if they wanted to be petty. But Grisham could handle nutless vandals well enough. He liked to think so anyway.

When she spoke up again, he was caught off guard.

"The bleach? cleaning you mean?, yeah. You aren't about to complain are ya? I prefer bleach to piss, personally." He said with a little snort of amusement.
 
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