Brian knew the public-house, in all its darkness and squalor, was not the place to squander his paltry stolen coin. But it was where he'd ended up. He wanted to get drunk, and he had an itch for a woman. More usually he simply liked female attention to affirm to himself--well, what, exactly? He put it out of his mind.

He'd slicked down his hair; earlier, he'd washed in a stream. His clothing was washed as best he could. It had meant lounging naked near the stream while he waited for it to dry, but that he'd enjoyed. What he'd regretted... what he'd regretted was his hand; two fingers really wasn't enough. Peeking beneath the bandages, he saw that at least, thank God--or whomever--the stumps were clean. Well-sewn. Thank you, Maha. But it was hardly a hand, what was left... and sometimes it hurt at night where his fingers weren't. Tonight was no exception.

So he'd rolled out of bed after sunset and headed into town, or what passed for town. He ordered a pint of barley beer and scouted the area for a pliant girl, one with dark hair and flashing eyes--why was he thinking of that Lawley girl? Never mind her--he spotted one, a young thing, beautiful in her way, though the way she stood was perhaps a little practiced.

"My girl." He came up to her and raised his cup in a toast. "Do you wish anything to drink?"

She giggled a little, and blushed, and he thought, well--the charm is still there.

Granted, her eye stopped on his left hand for just a moment when he lifted it to call the bartender over, but many people were missing bits, and she hardly batted an eye. Instead, she rested one hand on his arm, and together they melted into a corner.

"You are beautiful, you know."

She didn't say anything at first, then smiled up at him. Practiced--that was the look, a practiced one. "You aren't bad, either..." Her young-girl's pigeon-chest leaned against him, moving in and out softly. "Brian Farraday, right?" Her lips were close to his cheek.

"Aye." He looked down; she seemed a little young for him. Younger than Elena. Then he caught a glance she threw over her shoulder--back to John Smith. Now that man he knew.

"Do you know him?" he added carefully, one hand on her hair, proprietarily.

"Oh--he's my brother." She was blushing, still prettily, but there was some wariness there. "If you talk to him, he can tell you--"

Brian pulled back as if scalded. "Tell me what--your price? God damn it. How old are you? Twelve? Don't do this. God." He pushed past the girl and stormed off to John, whom he grabbed by one arm and tugged aside.

"Your bloody sister? She's too fucking young. You bastard." Brian wasn't often so overtly angry, let alone violent, but this, to him, was an important matter.

Well Brian Farraday seemed to be getting rather close with Jessie. Business was picking up. He noticed Jessie looking towards him; he did his best to give her a reassuring look. He hadn’t heard of Brian committing violent acts against women before, although he wasn’t planning on leaving anything to chance.

He couldn’t hear what the man was saying. But he now seemed to be agitated about something. Sure enough he was now approaching and was being pulled by one arm off. Giving Jessie another look of reassurance, then he focused on Brian.

Maybe the man liked men too? It was possible. He had certainly had rougher introductions to sex. That was for sure.

“She’s a woman, she bleeds” He said dismissively, although it was clear he had trouble believing that one himself and referred to how she would be married in normal circumstances.

“She can make up her own mind. Besides, she chooses too” That part was true; although no doubt the young girl was influenced by the family’s liberal occupation.

Hearing this argument from people was tiresome. He pulled his arm away.

“You speak bold words for someone who looked pretty keen to bed her until you found out her trade” He commented, growing frustrated but unwilling to show it in front of a room of potential customers. His stomach growled from hunger.

"Keen to bed a bloody free woman," Brian hissed, setting his hands on John's chest and shoving him backwards. "Keen to bed someone doing it of her own accord. Not because her fucking brother tells her to sell her body. "How can she damned well choose."

Brian's face was very close to the other man's, and, though he was shorter and more slimly built, he felt sure his anger would be enough to win him any fight they might get into. "Listen to me. I've been where you've been, you whoreson." He knew how apt was this insult, and it gave him a hot flare of passionate internal approbration, something he always felt when he said something entirely appropriate to a situation. "But doing this to someone else--your sister!" He drew back, almost ready to spit in the man's face.

"Your sister! She can't be more'n fourteen. Do you know how men treat whores?" He studied John's face, his sneer half-agonized and half-angry. "You do, don't you--you bastard."

John went backwards, he wasn’t angry and in some ways he shared Brian’s frustration. But anywhere where Jessie would work she would get raped, why couldn’t he see that?

“Jessie chooses her own clients. Always has and always will” He replied, she never seemed to show any displeasure from her work.

When he was called whoreson a dark look crossed his features. But he very well knew it was likely that Brian could be carrying a weapon; not to mention he was more skilled in fighting. Times like this he cursed he laziness and lack of physical prowess.

He kept himself quiet, crossing his arms across his chest and glanced over at Jessie. Who seemed to be a bit worried and was walking towards him a little. He caught her gaze, shook his head. He didn’t want her getting hurt in a brawl. In a twisted way; he did care for and love his sister. Jessie gave him a wilful frown, stopped but watched like a hawk.

When asked about how men treat whores he gave a snort. He had too much experience in such things.

“Which is why I follow, to make sure that she’s alright” He answered sharply, insulted that he would allow Jessie to come to harm. He was a sodomite, a borderline heathen, a rent boy and likely to be incestuous. But he’d never let Jessie come to any harm.

Brian backed off, shaking out his bad hand and nodding grudgingly.

"Aye. It can be hard to make a living. And caring for a sister's no small task. Mine's at the border, working in a garrison. Not the safest, but at least it isn't whoring..." He shrugged, and sighed. "Look, Smith, there's a way out of this. All this shit." His backflung arm encompassed the squalid inn, the gigglingly drunk, skinny girls, the men nursing their watered ale.

"That is. If you're one of them as cares about getting out of it. Some don't. I think some would rather things stay the same no matter how Godawful. But if you're listening, if you really do care about that sister of yours... about yourself--" In truth, Brian had heard John more than cared about his sister, but he didn't wish to look at that. Just because something turned his stomach didn't mean it shouldn't be permitted. A hell of a lot more should be permitted. And as long as something hurt no one, where was the harm?

John was certainly grateful when Brian broke off his rant. The pimp was only skilled against attackers while they were distracted and he came behind them in a knife to their throat. He gave Brian a half-smile; to show that he wasn’t angry with Brian and to reassure Jessie.

At the garrison? Poor girl, hopefully she hasn’t been taken and used as a whore by this time. He looked interested in what Brian had to say, but said nothing.

Change? By god and his whorish saints! Of course he wanted change. Leaning forward, this type of talk could result painfully for them if they were caught. He looked around the tavern in case there were any military men about. There were none. But there were plenty willing to sell out a neighbour or two for the Lord’s favour.

He whispered. “Of course I do, the only reason we had to resort to our – er, trade. Is cause Da can’t support us. He works day and night too. For nothing!” He hissed the last part, venting his frustration. “It’s been going for years too. Increase of taxes and the like”

He paused, worry crossing his features. What if they were caught? He didn’t want for his family to suffer.

“Tell me, what do you have in mind Brian?” He asked.

Brian frowned. Something about the boy's glib words didn't sit quite right. And they were glib, despite that labored hiss. The father he spoke of was mocked up and down the fiefdom for his blindness to his wife and children... and the sister... He couldn't keep from recalling the rumors--about John and his sister--half-sister, then. It was still mightily disturbing. And she was so young.

Older than you were, whispered the voice in the back of his head, insidiously. He tried to forget all of that. It always came back. It didn't matter what had happened once, Brian told himself. The place where his fingers weren't throbbed, putting the lie to his words.

"Towers cellar, midnight in three days' time," he said grudgingly, glancing up at John. "And stop bloody whoring out your sister."

His tone left no room for argumentation or waffling.

The pimp nodded; he would try to be there, sneak away somehow and make it to the meeting. Would he bother to bring Jessie? She always seemed to complicate things in his mind and he didn’t want her being in anymore danger. A revolution if discovered would bring the full effect of the law down on any who was involved.

Or anyone who was seen to be a nuisance and was to be removed. What would it matter to them if a couple of whores were executed? The sins they committed would be well known for all to see.

Stop whoring his sister? He glanced towards Jessie who seemed to be quite content flirting with one of the men. The man made a promise to himself that he would keep her off the streets for as long as he could. He would work double shifts; take on more risky work and perhaps this revolution would bring an end to having to do this? The idea of not having to bed people for the amusement of it was pleasant.

“Alright Brian, I’ll take her shifts from now on” He said humbly. John wasn’t necessarily an evil person; he just lacked discipline and a strong will when it came to doing something that involved hard work. Whether it is mentally or physically. The man wondered to himself about how the effect would eventually have on his body. He couldn’t risk it drying up so soon.

No doubt his sister would end up working by the end of the week.

OOC: Sorry about the lateness :D