An Offer One Can't Refuse

[Gullveig]

Standing up, walking to the bar and tapping on the mercenary's shoulder - which made a strange sound because of the flight-suit -, Gullveig turned around lazily and after throwing a look at Álvarez drank the rest of his beer and said, "Ja? You vere looking fur something?" Álvarez replied with narrowed eyes, "You're a Rheinlander...", but before he could continue Gullveig made a face and said "Ja ja, Ich get zat around here -all- ze time! Don't vorry, a 'freundly' Rheinlander!" and as Gullveig chuckled, Álvarez continued with same expression, "And you're a merc?" a bit confused, Gullveig scratched his head and said, "Jarp, but again, a freundly one at zat too. So vhat's ze matter?" folding his arms, Álvarez smirked and said, "And you're Gollvag. Si gringo?" "Gullveig! Gull-Veig! How hard ist zat to say zat no one kan pronounce it right?" with a chuckle, Álvarez waved his hand at their table where two other members of Sails were having a drink and said, "Why don't you come have a drink with us then amigo? I've wanted to talk with you for some time!"

As the bartender filled another mug and passed it to Gullveig, him and the Sails walked back to the table and sat down. So, Álvarez leaned forward and started, "So, tell us amigo... How can -One- person, have so many unique ships? I've heard you have a Nyx, a Pytho, some light fighter from Rheinland and even a Claymore! How did you manage to get that to work?" leaning back and chuckling, Gullveig replied in a pleased voice, "Und let's not forget mein beloved Battle-Behemoth! But ov kourse, ich don't run zat Claymore on mein own. Some ov mein Gaian volks helped me fly ze thing around... Vell, ich don't fly it often anyvays." and ended his sentence with a shrug.

With a smirk, Álvarez leaned even more forward and asked, "So you're saying you have something as unique as a Merc Claymore and you don't fly it? Why's that?" with another shrug, Gullveig replied, "Vell, zat Claymore sure ist a nice ship, but not really, eh... 'mein type', you know. Ich prefer it in mein cozy Nyx cockpit zan having to run around ze kontrol room und shout at gunners und navigator und ozers to make sure it goes as ich vant!" "So what's up with that ship now?" Álvarez asked, trying to sound as indifferent as he can, and the mercenary's reply made him sure he had managed to fake his expression well enough, "Vell... It's sitting in Islay hangar, und one ov mein Gaian volks just looks after it und keeps it in shape in case ich decide to fly it again. But nah, zat's not like ich bin going to get back on zat ship anyvays!" and his chuckle at the end of his sentence made Álvarez sure that the mercenary haven't suspected anything.

Rest of their talk for the next half an hour just went on around casual talks about situation around Omegas and all the traders and smugglers taking the risk of border worlds for a higher profit, a subject that was not much uncommon in a base like Cadiz. But what Álvarez had in mind, was nothing common at all, even among Corsairs. One thing he knew was that mercenary had proven himself useful to him and his 'hermanos', so messing with him would've meant losing a 'gun', and even further, trying to mess with him to get their hands on a Claymore while neither the mercenary nor those Gaians in Bretonia approved of it, would've meant losing a 'gun' along with the 'gun rack'.

He was sure on one thing though, that all mercenaries - no matter of the side they took, the guns they used or how well they used them, and who they shot - have one thing in common: They all are greedy as hell. So, seeing his plan had gone just well enough to that point, he decided to pass the word to Rodrigo Alavera, another member of Black Sails, who might have like the plan he had in mind.

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Successful experiment is successful.