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Generally speaking, Milo Krook minds their own business. They’ve got a great deal of natural curiosity, but it’s been tempered by myriad life lessons that have taught them the value of not getting involved in random bullshit. Especially not with strangers, and especially not in the weirder parts of Jrusar. But today, random bullshit decides to get involved with Milo.
“Get back here, fucker!”
The loud, angry shout makes Milo startle. They nearly drop the metal scoop they’re using to portion dried valerian root into a sachet, but keep a decent grip on it. That shout was alarmingly close, but certainly not directed at them.
Not their business! They’re finished with their errands anyway. It’s not a terribly far walk from Elder’s Post back to the Hollow, so they’ll just be on their way-
“SHIT!”
A different voice cusses loudly, some coins rattle, and that’s all the warning Milo gets before someone crashes into them with the force of a charging silgoat.
The two fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs and exclamations. Milo instinctively throws out an arm to catch themself only to have it pinned beneath them as their assailant falls on top of them. Their glasses are knocked askew and various parts of their right side immediately start stinging. They don’t recognize the person who charged into them- it’s some bug-eyed half-elf who’s panting and clutching…an instrument case?
“Grab him, grab him!” It’s the first voice again, and it’s getting closer.
The half-elf attempts to scramble off of Milo. They grab at his upper arm and the two engage in a brief wrestle for control. Milo is definitely outclassed in the strength department, but the second voice shows up a moment later as a pair of skinny arms grab the guy’s hair and yank, making him shout and arch back.
Milo takes that opportunity to squirm and buck their way out from underneath of him, though the corner of the instrument case catches them in the temple as they do so. It doesn’t hurt a terrible lot but it does definitely bend the arm of their glasses- fuck, they’ll deal with that later.
The second figure is shouting cusses Milo has never heard before and attempting to wrangle the instrument case from the half-elf. Milo, still partially pinned beneath the guy, drives a knee upwards between his legs. The man wails and drops the instrument case, all but falling off of Milo as he clutches his nether regions. The second figure kicks him in the side, fully dislodging him.
Milo scrambles to their feet, panting. The instrument case is now being clutched triumphantly by the second figure, an Uniya woman with long braids and dark skin. She kicks the man again and snarls, “If you ever fucking touch my shit again, I’m gonna string you up by your balls and fucking beat you with my lute! Get the fuck out of my sight!”
The would-be thief manages to stagger out of Elder’s Post. The couple passerby that had been watching this kerfuffle continue observing from the corners of their eyes, but the action seems to have concluded. Milo takes a deep breath and removes their glasses to check the damage. Yeah, that arm is definitely busted. At least the lens isn’t cracked.
“Hey, thanks for- oh, shit, I’m sorry,” The Uniya woman groans when she sees the state Milo’s glasses are in. She’s breathing heavily as well, and Milo gets the sense she must have chased that guy for a hot minute.
“It’s alright, I can fix them. I tinker a lot.” Milo shrugs. “Who the fuck was that?”
The woman huffs and scowls in the direction the thief stumbled off in. “Dunno, some rat fuck desperate enough to rob musicians on the street. What the fuck.”
“Because musicians famously have such deep pockets,” Milo remarks dryly. With a little transmutation and applied force, they bend the arm (mostly) back into place and slide their glasses on again. The woman’s features come into focus; she’s all sharp features and long edges, wearing a blouse and trousers that’ve been patched a dozen times over and clutching a fiddle in her other hand- she must have dropped it to throttle the guy upon getting close enough. “I take it he just grabbed your case and started running?”
“Yeah.” The woman hesitates, then says, “I’m Anni.”
“Milo.”
An awkward pause stretches between them. Just as Milo decides to turn and leave, Anni blurts, “Can I buy you a drink or something? As thanks. And an apology. For that guy, not for me.”
There’s something endearing about the intense expression on her face. It’s at odds with such a cordial offer, and it gives Milo the impression that Anni might not be used to this particular flavor of socialization. They smile. “Sure.”
The coin in Anni’s case is still there, and she treats them to a round at the Spire by Fire. A round becomes two, which becomes three, which becomes them chatting in the corner booth as the night stretches on. Milo learns that Anni has always lived in Marquet but moved to Jrusar in particular after getting kicked out by her family, and she plays a ton of instruments, and she seems to have to say ‘fuck’ every three words or she’ll blow up. About partway through the conversation Milo realizes they’ve actually run into Anni once or twice while she was busking. “You should play something in here,” they encourage.
“Gods, no, I’ve had enough bullshit happen for one day.” Before Milo can interrogate why a musician might consider performing to be bullshit, Anni makes a face and reconsiders. “Actually, fuckin’ maybe. I could definitely use the fucking gold. My dumbfuck landlord jacked up the rent, and I…”
She trails off and throws back the rest of her ale. Milo watches as genuine dread fights to express itself through the wall of stony irritation Anni seems to have constructed.
Offering their place to someone they’ve only just met seems like a terrible idea. But Anni is fun. And Milo could honestly use the company. It gets kind of lonely, just being by themself in the Hollow. So they say, “I have a spare room if you end up needing somewhere to stay.”
Anni raises a pierced eyebrow. “What’re you asking for rent?”
Milo shrugs. “I dunno. It’s just a room, it’s already there and it’s not like anyone else is using it. Just don’t steal my shit or make a mess. You’ll have to figure out food on your own though, I don’t make enough to feed two mouths right now.”
After a few moments of consideration, Anni nods. “...good to know. I’ll keep that in mind if I don’t work something else out.”
Her posture is more relaxed than before. There’s a lull in conversation across the bar, and Milo kicks her under the table, then nods pointedly towards her instrument case.
Anni groans, but unlatches the thing and takes her lute out.
She sidles up to the bar and draws the bow across the strings of her fiddle. A few whistles and claps ring out as she plays a quick, energetic series of notes. Milo grins at her, then nods to Ishir to have another round brought out. They have a feeling the night is just getting started.