2020-11-21 - A Little Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing

Joey is training. He takes long breaks from focusing on his shit to play coach to the world and leader of unscrupulous men, but lo here he be. The trip through the sewer had his laid low for a couple of days but it doesn't take long for him to get back on his feet. The radio on the crappy overhead speaker that works well enough, thank you, thumps overhead with some old school Symphony of Destruction thumpin overhead letting the left-right-left combos thumping with the music.

Rhys is not yet training, but this seems likely to change as he arrives carrying his workout bag. Not unusual. Usually even means he intends to work out! And unlike much of town the last several days, he looks entirely sober. One of the many denizens affected by the cloud Rhys can't even see passes by on the way out, and the accountant looks both amused and bemused by the guy's slightly-off balance stride and giggle at apparently nothing as he goes. "Did I miss 4/20 getting moved to November when I wasn't looking?" he inquires as he passes Joey by. "Half the town seems stoned out of their minds this week."

Joey jabjabjabs the bag again keeping the place on the spinning bag the same. it's not hitting a lot it's making a weak spot and then breaking it. Pelting a wall is not the same as busting through and breaching it. He is, at his core, a tactical assassin and always has been. He doesn't have to impress anyone because there should be no witnesses, which is ironic about the situation he is not aware of.

"Yeah we lost Greg's place. They lit it up and depending on how close you are? Yeah. Some areas have been hit for like the last week. His trailer got hit, then his business. Kinda leaves my dick cut off at the knees here and I don't like folding my shit in half for fuckin no one Rhys. Tell me you have good news."

"I heard, but-- guess it's not having the same effect out by the docks," Rhys says, glancing after the recent departee, then back to Joey and his precision jabbing. Take your lessons where you see 'em, even when they're not specifically meant for you. He takes a breath, lets it out in a brief stream from the corner of his mouth that suggests he's not going to be able to comply with that request just as well as the following, "Well, it could be worse news."

A subtle flicker of a glance confirms to his satisfaction that there's no one reasonably within eavesdropping range before he goes on. He chose his time of day partly based on the chances the place would be in a lull, but you never know for sure until you're there. "That PS4? Mac managed to get data off it." A small pause. "A bunch, Phil says. Looks like our new friends have been collecting evidence. At the least there's stuff in there about me, 'bout you, and 'bout the boss." There's low-key irritation in saying so; he's always been careful about his own footprints, which means either someone over there is at least as good as he is, or someone over here's been careless.

"She says Mac hasn't told anyone yet. So, I figure I'd better go have a chat. But I figured you oughta know too." He doesn't specify that this doesn't directly go for Felix as well, but surely Joey can assume as much. Neither of them are inclined to bother him with things they can handle themselves, after all. And history suggests neither of them would prefer to see the simplest route taken through Abitha if other options are available. And, "I've got a thought or two as long as I can get her seeing sense."

Sturdy! There's a reason Joey is hitting these things than people. The heavy bag lifts and buckles in the middle. The phrase 'reinforced for a reason' Joey's not the first person to train professionally on these things and the investment is paying off as the chains above squeak and creek as they are labored with purpose as glove meets canvas.

Jaw tightens and his glove extends and the bag is arrested in momentum mid swing and still unnaturally and suddenly perfectly still. It's because he put his glove there. Clearly. Joey's eyes close and there is a slow deep breath. Looking back to Rhys he says in that quiet, gravely tone, "You know what I want? I just... wanna coach gym, and for people to be fuckin groovy and not bug people. The sad thing is neither of those things are ever just going to fucking happen. That said..." He looks to the office where Phil currently isn't but generally occupies.

Those glass green eyes slide back to Rhys, "I like Mac. I don't want to do another 5-20 and neither does anyone else for dealing with bullshit people over bullshit problems." Which is to say no, criminals aren't fucking people. Not the ones he does business with. They all know the risks and the rules. Mac tho... "See if she'll come around. If she wants to hep us deal with 'bad people' there could be a lot of gratitude in that, but... Let's bring Him a solution, not a problem or he'll turn the dogs loose and I really would not be looking forward to that. This ain't her fault. I'd put my money on that's probably information she doesn't want to have either so let's... see about helping her out, yeah?"

"Be nice, wouldn't it?" Rhys agrees as far as coaching gym -- well, Joey coaching gym, anyway, not his own preferred way to spend the day but all the same -- and people being groovy. There's that little touch of tension that shows up when he Notices Things that aren't properly normal and the Veil pushes on his mind to rationalize or ignore them, a flash of a glance at the stopped bag before the conscious awareness that physics doesn't work like that gets pushed gently aside to be nothing but a faint sense of 'off'-ness, and that itself tucked away.

"I like Mac too," he says, "which is, yeah, why plan A was 'go have a chat'. Specifically, I go have a chat. A literal one. It's not ideal for any of us for her to have that info, but at the least if I can get her to bury it..." ...then it's a much better outcome than any others likely to involve the word 'bury'. "If I can convince her to help find equivalent info on our new friends and turn that in as what she found instead? Potentially even better. It makes at least as much sense with the facts surrounding the thing as we know 'em. But it's largely a question of whether she'll accept the logical path, and how far." He gives a small shrug. "I figured you'd agree." Otherwise he might well have kept it to himself until after.

Joey takes a sharp deep breath in and really hates days like today. "She's a civilian." And Joey's got a code that will always make every effort to keep civilian life and crime life very very separate. There's return Rhys' gamble to the positive at least which is how the account likes things: in the black, not the red. "As appreciation if she needs assistance getting a new lease for a place we can... make that happen easier. We got people with empty properties we can see if they'll turn over for good use to a reliable renter." Meaning Felix and Byron, but that's something in their asset kit that could work out in everyone's favour. The back of his wrist rubs against his forehead. "Just go easy when you talk to her. She dealt with one shit demon this week, she doesn't need another." Too bad that's not a euphemism.

"I was about to go with 'you catch more flies with honey' but really, if you're trying to catch flies you can't get a lot better than shit." And Rhys doesn't even know 'shit demon' isn't figurative. Imagine all the flies one could attract! "Point being, though. Ideal's the lightest touch possible that gets the job done, right? Free will always beats coercion if you can get it. Don't worry. I wasn't planning on holding a gun to her head." The half-smile there is wry and crooked; it is an option, after all. "She isn't sure what to do. I'm going to make some suggestions. And if all goes well logic prevails, the problem goes away, and we get a pizza or something." And if all goes poorly, then the plans start moving down the alphabet. He takes a breath, and lets it out in a puff. "But first I'm gonna hit some shit and maybe let you yell at me about how I'm doing it, if you're in the mood."

Joey frowns hearing the bookie totally legit accountant out. "I'm a trust you to handle this one. I like her. She seems cool. I'd really really rather her not turn up missing. You tell B yet?" His lips press together and god knows Joey loves Byron as his own but he also knows him as his own prompting Joey to add, "If it comes up tell him I'm handling it and that should calm his shit down. We're gonna need assurances on this one but let's see what we can do to make it...the fuck's that word... symbiotnik or whatever. She's a civilian." There's a pause and while he's not going soft this does chafe his personal code of ethics pretty hard having column B fall flat onto Column A by total fucking accident.

Totes legit! And by the nod and slight grimace, also totes on the 'would prefer she not go missing' boat. Just because these things are sometimes necessary doesn't mean you've gotta like it. Rhys gives a light snort at the question of whether he's told Byron, and a shake of the head. "Far as I'm aware so far, it's none of his business. Pun unintended, but I'll take it." A tiny pause before he allows, "Well, all right, I guess inasmuch as he was part of getting hold of the thing, maybe. But Phil didn't mention there being anything he'd need to know. Still, yeah. If it comes up." There was a small nod regarding assurances, though, and a little inclination of the head acknowledging the 'civilian' thing again. "Symbiotic as we can get it, yeah. I dunno what she needs, yet, but I can at least offer a chance to fuck with the assholes who fucked her over, right?"

"Shiiiit, bruh, as a fellow business owner I got her back on this one. Starts with hers then its ours? Fuck that and fuck them. Shit I'm happy to fuck these assholes up for free. " There's a pause and he considers all the angles adding, "Let's see if we can't get anything out of these fucks and if we do see the nice lady is reimbursed for her cooperation. What can I say I'm a man of the fuckin people."

"We still got a whole selection of business partners paying the wrong amounts to the wrong people to deal with," Rhys notes on the matter of Business In General, and possibly that of money from the fucks in question. "Whether we want to go with an investigatory approach or another." But that's a different matter, mostly. "Way I figure it, these guys owe us a pretty decent amount without even figuring in stuff like pain and suffering." Not that lawyers or insurance adjusters are likely to be involved with any restitution, but useful ideas are just one of many things that can be stolen. "So yeah. Fuck 'em. They don't belong here. It's way past time they fucked off."

Joey tilts his head to the side popping the thick slab of meat his head sits on called a neck to the side. ONE TWO THREE. "I don't want em fuckin up my wedding... or my business...and I'm tired of em fuckin with my people. I want whoever of theirs we can get, and you can stash em in the back to chill out, but I want someone we can question and if I have to take a blowtorch to someone's balls to get answers we're getten em. This is our fucking town, Rhys, and they're hurting it. Now I want a list of people that ain't with the program and I'm a send the hounds out to give them a fucking choice. They wanna get financed to fuck me over they ain't doin it outta our goddamn pocket. How soon you get me that info?"

"Entirely on the side of weddings, businesses, and our people all remaining unfucked with, barring any of the above giving enthusiastic consent. Congrats, by the way." Rhys shifts his weight slightly from one foot toward the other, perhaps subconsciously settling into a more balanced stance. "Far's getting someone stashed in the back, not saying I can't make it happen, but easy as I know it is to forget," a flicker of the grin, with that, "I am five foot five and pretty sure I weigh less than you can bench. People tend to be a little more inclined to risk testing me than the usual suspects." Which'd probably not be much fun for anyone involved, and has the potential to somewhat interfere with answer-getting. "So assuming I'm not ding it myself, you care who I send out to get who?" Whether he goes along as well is something he can decide later.

"Far's who's on the list? 'bout five minutes, less if you've actually got the last one noted down somewhere." Somewhere secure, presumably.

Joey itches his eyebrow with the back of one taped knuckle, a bit winded. Don't hug em. While he's not the foremost imitation a human's ever done of a damp goat it's still a hell of a workout here. There's a pause at the congrats and a slow nod. "Thanks man. The um... I want this shit wrapped before that happens, ya know? No cops no BS. It's her day. You're going." Another thought crosses his mind with a sigh, "I need to get with Chris about door security. Goddamn it why did we lose Andre?" It still stings. There's another drawn in deep breath as more business gets answered to distract him, "Yeah I got the list. I just want to make sure that list we have is current before we go and kick in doors of people that straightened their shit out."

Probably best for everyone that Rhys isn't in the mood to inflict sudden massive hugs. Maybe if he were the one soaked in sweat that would be more tempting right now. As it is? They're good. Hey, he hasn't even hit anything yet today!

"Yeah," he says, with a quick, sharpish nod. "We know they're not above party crashing." That was a weird funeral. "And damn straight I'm going. If you don't invite me I'm sneakin' in as Sparrow's plus-one. Be warned." Do genuine warnings come with that grin? ...probably not often. "Lemme know when you know when. And if you guys need anything." The loss does indeed still sting, and he sighs when it's mentioned, running a hand absently through his hair. "There's a lot we owe 'em for," he murmurs, which is all the more reason to get back to working out that payment schedule. "Lemme see it and I'll give you any edits real quick, but it oughta be pretty accurate still. C'mon," he suggests, tipping his head toward the 'office' area he suspects it's most likely in, "And we can talk about which of 'em we think's most likely to have the most interesting answers for us."

Joey snorts at the 'I'm crashing your wedding, dude' update but it's a smile. For this, though, he steps away from the bag and wanders over to his back office that he's still accused to sleep in now and then that some call the Boiler Room, or Room of Doom if we are talking about discussions with people that fucked up pretty good. He lays a hand on the top of the safe and the dial spins in his fingers and opens for him because he told it to. "Chris Collins. I know he stopped paying up because he's making sure Reyes' pockets are getting lined. That one. He's one of our problem children. He'll give us the 'who' in our org sold us the fuck out. He'll talk."

Rhys follows, of course, the bag coming along with him still. The safe opens in a completely expected sort of manner this time, which would be a relief if the Veil would let him keep hold of the disconcerting feeling he'd gotten times the safe opened just slightly wrong. As it is, it passes without more than a tiny twitch of comfort in the deepest recesses of his mind.

"Collins," he says, and there's only the hint of a pause to scan his mental lists before he goes on with a nod. "Yeah. Still on the list, fairly predictable schedule, no immediate connections." Which is to say, no civvies for Reyes and company to 'send a message' by... or get in the way of themselves inviting him over. "He works. Or doesn't, which is the problem." A flicker of the grin, and a shrug. "I'll bring him by for a nice cup of coffee and a chat." For certain values of chat. Probably no values of coffee, really.