"You'd probably gonna want them to get into you, actually," is Reno's last smirking quip before they head up the steps and into their man's place. It's one of those dark, wooden ramshackle sort of slums-houses that looks more like a shed or shanty than a place someone ought to live or do business. Even more of their friendly neighborhood Surprisingly Well Armed thugs dot the walkway leading up to the stairs, and there are two more posted on the porch, lounging around with their semi-automatics between their knees like they're fixin' to see who can shoot their jaw off faster. As they approach the front door, one looks to the other and then at Reno, then more critically at Rufus. "Who's the spare?" he asks gruffly.
"My entertainment for the night," Reno replies with a shrug. Hey, sorry boss, but you gave him the bright idea, now we're gonna run with it. At any rate, it works, as both 'guards' take one more look at Rufus and clearly believe that's true.
"Real high-class entertainment," the other one remarks, and judging by his tone and the look on his face, he doesn't seem to mean it as a compliment. "You behave yourself, blondie." Sneering, he waves them on.
Reno keeps a straight face as they go by, but it's a real struggle not to laugh. Not one he'd ever dare lose in a million years, but still. Right from the moment they step inside, it may or may not become apparent to Rufus what Reno meant by contraband, and people handling the contraband. The front room is full of workers like the ones on the street, men and women both sitting or standing idle and several who are clearly in the... process of sealing the deal, if you will. There are more than a few laps occupied in the various couches and chairs that all but line the room, and there doesn't seem to be any sense of shame or interest in privacy between anyone servicing or being serviced, nor does anybody seem to care much when two new people walk into the room. Reno leads them past the debauchery and several other steely-eyed looking individuals to yet another room full of contraband, and people handling contraband, this time in the form of an absolute wreck of a coke den. The only neat thing about the entire space are the lines cut all over the tables. Funnily enough, half the people in the production line here seem to be dressed just the same as the people out front, but Reno isn't about to give Rufus a play-by-play of why that would be. Just that it honestly makes more logical sense to see people in their underwear (or in nothing at all) in here than it does out there.
Ah, and there's also that Cockatrice he mentioned, clucking menacingly on a perch a few feet from the door. For that, Reno does give Rufus a gentle nudge and an indication with a faint turn of his head—don't look at it. Mostly because it'll turn you to stone if you do, but also because of the man who owns it. A very, very big, tall, scary-looking guy, who takes one look at them and, hoo boy, if looks could kill, they'd be goners! Except then Reno grins and says, in a sort of upbeat, friendly tone of voice he scarcely uses that doesn't suit him well at all (it's way too perky), "Heya, Maddy. Been awhile!"
That wipes the killer look right off the guy's face. He lights up like he's been brought a basketful of puppies. "I'll be goddamned," he says, and beckons the two of them over, his grin cutting through the deep, bushy black beard that seems to take up the majority of his face. Kinda looks like a typical image of a pirate. "Sidney. Long time no fuckin' see. How ya been? Who's your friend?"
"Good, good. This here's Tony. He don't talk much; he's shy. Aren'tcha, Tones?" Reno prompts with a playful wink. This is also a hint: keep the talk to a minimum. "He's fresh off the boat, but he's never been on a trip before."
"Ahhh," says 'Maddy'. "Today's your lucky day, then."
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"My entertainment for the night," Reno replies with a shrug. Hey, sorry boss, but you gave him the bright idea, now we're gonna run with it. At any rate, it works, as both 'guards' take one more look at Rufus and clearly believe that's true.
"Real high-class entertainment," the other one remarks, and judging by his tone and the look on his face, he doesn't seem to mean it as a compliment. "You behave yourself, blondie." Sneering, he waves them on.
Reno keeps a straight face as they go by, but it's a real struggle not to laugh. Not one he'd ever dare lose in a million years, but still. Right from the moment they step inside, it may or may not become apparent to Rufus what Reno meant by contraband, and people handling the contraband. The front room is full of workers like the ones on the street, men and women both sitting or standing idle and several who are clearly in the... process of sealing the deal, if you will. There are more than a few laps occupied in the various couches and chairs that all but line the room, and there doesn't seem to be any sense of shame or interest in privacy between anyone servicing or being serviced, nor does anybody seem to care much when two new people walk into the room. Reno leads them past the debauchery and several other steely-eyed looking individuals to yet another room full of contraband, and people handling contraband, this time in the form of an absolute wreck of a coke den. The only neat thing about the entire space are the lines cut all over the tables. Funnily enough, half the people in the production line here seem to be dressed just the same as the people out front, but Reno isn't about to give Rufus a play-by-play of why that would be. Just that it honestly makes more logical sense to see people in their underwear (or in nothing at all) in here than it does out there.
Ah, and there's also that Cockatrice he mentioned, clucking menacingly on a perch a few feet from the door. For that, Reno does give Rufus a gentle nudge and an indication with a faint turn of his head—don't look at it. Mostly because it'll turn you to stone if you do, but also because of the man who owns it. A very, very big, tall, scary-looking guy, who takes one look at them and, hoo boy, if looks could kill, they'd be goners! Except then Reno grins and says, in a sort of upbeat, friendly tone of voice he scarcely uses that doesn't suit him well at all (it's way too perky), "Heya, Maddy. Been awhile!"
That wipes the killer look right off the guy's face. He lights up like he's been brought a basketful of puppies. "I'll be goddamned," he says, and beckons the two of them over, his grin cutting through the deep, bushy black beard that seems to take up the majority of his face. Kinda looks like a typical image of a pirate. "Sidney. Long time no fuckin' see. How ya been? Who's your friend?"
"Good, good. This here's Tony. He don't talk much; he's shy. Aren'tcha, Tones?" Reno prompts with a playful wink. This is also a hint: keep the talk to a minimum. "He's fresh off the boat, but he's never been on a trip before."
"Ahhh," says 'Maddy'. "Today's your lucky day, then."