Goro: Lucky

Set earlier in the day before the Cave TRP.

He arrived in Skyport just in time for lunch, which had been his intention when he dragged himself out of bed before sunrise and prepared to head out into the cold. He planned to hit up some old haunts before he went to the scrying pool, maybe even be done with everything in time to get home before dark.

Seemed like a stupid fucking idea now, though. He wondered if Hansel was still in bed. Dozing. Warm. Or if he'd roused himself already and sat in the dining room with toast and tea, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. God damn it. Goro was an idiot. Oooh, stew at the Crooked Coin, what a great tradeoff. Definitely worth a four-hour morning walk in the freezing cold when he could have been snuggling his boyfriend.

Goro was standing outside the Crooked Coin, staring at the sign and feeling sorry for himself with these thoughts, when someone slammed into him. A small someone, running fast. Goro reached out and grabbed the kid, snatching a fistful of his shirt and throwing an arm around his neck. He dragged the kid toward him and peered upside-down into his face. Big, scared blue eyes looked back up at him.

"Hm." Goro glanced at the boy's hands, which clutched a coin purse. "Weird. How'd that end up there?" He plucked it from the boy's fingers and jingled it in front of his face. "You got any guesses?"

"Don't kill me, please, mister," the boy managed to choke out.

Goro loosened his hold on the kid's neck. "You're fucking lucky I won't. Do I look like a nice guy to you? Do I?"

"N—ye—no, mister."

"So why the hell'd you decide to pick my pocket?"

"Y-you looked distracted, mister."

Goro took his arm away, letting the kid straighten up, but he grabbed onto the back of his shirt again to keep him from bolting. He was a half-elf, young, couldn't have been more than ten or so. A skinny little slip of a thing, with black hair. His ears were red from the cold, his hands chapped.

Goro handed him the coin purse. The kid looked at him in disbelief. "Go on," Goro said. "Take it. Open it."

Tentatively, eyes darting up to Goro every few seconds, the kid took the purse and loosened the drawstring. He reached inside and pulled out a few brass buttons. His eyes widened and he looked at Goro again.

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Goro said. "You robbed a fucking thief. I know some tricks. How long you been out here on the streets?"

"A few days."

"Uh-huh. It shows. Alright, you're coming with me." Goro dragged the kid, yelping, toward the door of the Crooked Coin.

#

The kid wolfed down his stew, pausing only to stuff bread in his face or gulp some water when he was on the verge of choking. Goro sat back and watched, arms crossed, letting his own stew cool.

"What's your name?" Goro asked. He waved the waitress down as he watched the kid drain the last of his water.

"Jonas," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Mister?"

"You can call me Footprints." Goro smiled. It'd been a while since he got to use that name. He wondered if anyone out there would still recognize it. If there were still rumors floating around. Probably not, though. It was coming up on twenty years since the Big Baron's death.

"Footprints? How come?"

"'Cause I'm so sneaky, I don't leave any."

Jonas watched him for a moment. "That your real name?"

Goro snorted. "No, kid, it's a street name. You're gonna need one of those yourself." He pulled his stew bowl closer and gave it a stir. "Got anything in mind?"

"How do I pick?"

"Eh, I don't know. Can be anything, really. What's your favorite animal?"

"Horses."

"Well, 'Horse' doesn't make a very good street name, so never mind. Come on, how about a meaner animal, like panthers or snakes?"

Jonas shrugged. "I like horses."

"Fine. What about a favorite color?"

"Purple."

"Purple, alright. How about uh… Purple… Purple Joe. God, that sounds ridiculous. You're not making this easy on me, kid."

"I also like black."

"Ah, there we go. Black Joe. That's your name now. How about it, Black Joe?"

"I guess."

"No, no *guess*. You pick something and you commit to it. What, are you gonna introduce yourself to people as, 'Black Joe, I guess'?" Goro took a bite of stew and studied the kid while he chewed. "Where are your parents?"

"They're at home."

"*Home*? You're a fucking runaway? Go home, you idiot. The streets are a terrible place to grow up."

"Can't. My dad'll beat me."

"Yeah? So what? You'll live."

Jonas shook his head. "He beat my big brother to death."

Goro had another bite of stew halfway to his mouth, but he stopped. He set the spoon back down. "Shit." Okay, yeah, alright, that sounded like a good reason to leave home. Not that the streets were going to be much safer, though. Goro gestured at Jonas's empty dishes. "You get enough to eat? You want more?"

"More, please." Jonas squirmed while he said it, eyes downcast, like he was ashamed of his own hunger.

Goro ordered him another bowl, and finished his own stew while Jonas shoveled it down. That kid could pack an impressive amount of food into his tiny body. It was a skill anyone picked up fast, when they didn't know where their next meal was coming from.

When they were both finished, Goro tossed a few coppers on the table for a tip and stood up. "Alright, Black Joe, let's head out. I got some things I need to teach you." He saw the way Jonas was eyeing the coppers, and he grabbed him by the collar to drag him away from the table. "Don't even think about it. We'll get you some of your own, don't worry."

Once they were outside, he walked Jonas to an alleyway so they could have a modicum of privacy while still keeping an eye on the street. "First things first, you need to know you're in the Basha's territory right now. You know who the Basha is?"

Jonas shook his head. "I heard his name a lot, but I don't know him."

"Well, that's good, that means you've been paying attention. He's a crime lord. You know with regular lords you have to pay them taxes if you want to live on their land, right? It's the same thing with the Basha. If you're gonna commit crime in his land, you've got to pay him tribute. Yeah, don't much like the sound of that, do you?" he said in response to Jonas's little frown. "I'll tell you which neighborhoods you need to avoid if you don't want to get picked up by anyone. You could do worse than the Basha, but you could also do better. Working for yourself, for a start."

Goro stepped up to the very edge of the alley and peered into the street. He beckoned to Jonas. "Come here and take a look at the folks walking by. Not these people right here. Look across the street. This is just practice. Tell me who you'd go for. Who do you think makes a good mark?"

"Mark?"

"Yeah, the person you're gonna steal from. How do you pick?"

Jonas studied the passers-by for a moment, then, wordlessly, pointed to one.

"In the red hat?" Goro asked. Jonas nodded. "Why?"

Jonas shrugged.

"Did you fucking pick at random? You need to cut that out. There's an art to this sort of thing, you know. A science. Mathematics. You have to consider all the information you have at your disposal. For one thing, think about the part of town. We're by the docks, so what kinds of people are you gonna see?"

Jonas shrugged again, but then said, "Sailors?"

"Yeah, sailors. Who else?" Jonas didn't offer anything, so Goro nudged him. "What do we know about sailors? Here today, gone tomorrow. Not much time to spend in the city, so they don't go far. What are they looking for? Food, beds, gambling, and whores. So you've got your sailors and you've got anyone who works in those trades. Who are you gonna rob? Choose wisely."

"Maybe people who've been gambling, since they might've won a lot of money."

"Could've lost a lot of money, too. How will you know the difference?"

"Well, if they look happy when they come out of the gambling place."

Goro smiled and elbowed him. "Yeah, there you go. It's a little early in the day though for the gambling dens. They're not ripe for the plucking yet, as they say. So keep thinking. This time of day, what are people up to?"

"Getting lunch."

"Yep. You want to catch 'em going into the tavern, or out of it?"

"Into. Before they spend their money."

"Fuckin' wrong. You get them coming out, when they're full and happy and sleepy. Sure, their purse is a little lighter, but it's not like anyone's spending a fucking fortune on lunch in the port district. So, come on. Let's have another look." Goro led him up the block a few paces so they had a better view, once again, of the entrance to the Crooked Coin. "You see someone you'd like to go for, point them out."

Jonas watched quietly for a few minutes. Goro saw a couple good marks leaving, but he didn't say anything. Wanted to see what the kid would come up with himself.

"That one," Jonas said at last. He pointed at a gigantic man, a half-orc even taller than Hansel.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Goro said. "You botch that one, he'll snap you in half. Looks mean."

"He looks *sleepy*," Jonas insisted. "You said to get 'em while they're sleepy."

"Yeah, but you also have to—oh, hang on."

The half-orc was headed their way. He slowed as he drew near, and for a troubling moment Goro wondered if he'd managed to overhear their conversation. He came to a stop and glared down at them. Then his face softened. "You collecting donations for the Church?"

"Yes, good sir, if you would be so kind," Goro said. He gave Jonas's shoulder a threatening squeeze. *Don't fucking say a word.*

The half-orc dug into his pocket and came out with a handful of coins. He carefully counted out a few and passed them to Goro. He ruffled Jonas's hair before continuing on his way.

Goro gave the money to Jonas. "You earned this by playing the part of a sad orphan real good, I guess. You know, you and I could have a good scam going, come to think of it. Too bad I don't live in the city anymore."

"See, he wouldn't have snapped me in half. He was nice."

"Yeah, you just see how nice he'd be if you tried to rob him. I bet he'd change his tune real fast. People feel sorry for the poor when they sit around looking pitiable, but the second you try to help yourself to the world's wealth, they get touchy."

"Maybe I should stick to begging, then."

"Maybe. You don't seem to have the best eye for pickpocketing. I mean, honestly. That guy, just because he looked sleepy? Me, because I looked distracted? I'm a fucking cleric, kid. We take vows of poverty. I mean, I had my fingers crossed when I said mine, but you didn't fucking know that."

"Sometimes clerics have money, though, 'cause of the donations. And they probably wouldn't hurt you if they caught you."

"Boy, that ain't fucking true. Don't get caught by the Church of Helm, kid. It'll ruin your life." Now that Amari was gone it would, anyway. That was a damn shame—a few years ago, Goro could have suggested Jonas go to the Church for a hot meal and a place to sleep, maybe even a job to earn his keep there. Now he knew the place was nothing but a hellhole.

A job, though. That wasn't a bad idea.

"Hey, come with me a second," Goro said. Not that he gave Jonas much choice. He took him by the elbow and led him back inside the Crooked Coin.

Tazu was behind the bar, wiping out glasses. He grinned when he saw Goro approaching. "Didn't get enough before, eh? I know, the beef stew's terrific. This new cook, I'm telling you."

"Nah, nah." Goro pushed Jonas up to the counter. "This is my friend, Black Joe. He needs a job. You need someone to sweep your floors, or anything?"

Tazu looked Jonas up and down and cringed a little, shook his head slightly. "Ah, I don't take kids anymore. Not after what happened to the last one."

"Damn. You know somewhere else he can do some honest work?"

"You could take him over to the Basha's warehouse. They're always hiring."

"I said honest work, Tazu."

"There's nothing dishonest about it, my friend. If anything, they prize honesty above all else. I hear they don't take too kindly to liars in their ranks." He grinned wider.

"Bah." Goro waved him off and took Jonas by the arm again. "Come on, Black Joe, we're leaving."

Outside, Goro frowned down at Jonas, and considered. There had to be somewhere that would hire him—maybe even in a nicer part of the city—but Goro didn't have time to go toting him all over the place. He'd already spent a lot more time here than planned, and likely it was too late for him to make it back to Glimmerton today.

He couldn't just send Jonas off with tips on finding a job for himself, either. The kid had only been out here for a few days, but it was long enough for him to be dirty and greasy-haired, with holes in his clothing. Most any business owner would throw him out as soon as he walked through their door.

Jonas looked up at him with worried eyes, awaiting judgment. Kid didn't even try speaking up for himself or asking what the hell Goro was looking at him so intently for. Probably he was used to doing whatever his asshole father told him to do. He put his arms around himself and shivered. He was too underdressed for this weather.

He was going to fucking die. Goro gave him a week.

"Here." Goro jerked his head toward the harbor. "This is no place for a kid. I know somewhere you can go."

#

They asked around at the docks until they found a ship headed for the Sanctuary. Goro paid for Jonas's passage, then walked him out onto the pier to the gangway, which was roped off at the moment. "Stay right here," Goro told him. "Boat doesn't leave for a few hours, but you wait, and you'll be here the second they start letting people on. Don't leave this spot. You're a paid passenger now and the crew won't let anyone give you a hard time."

"What do I do once I get on?"

"I don't know, fucking amuse yourself somehow. But no stealing, alright? Just keep to yourself. You don't have to worry about getting food or anything, they'll feed you. Don't cause trouble or it'll end badly for you. You just need to make it to the Sanctuary, and then you'll be safe. You'll have to work to earn your place there, but it'll be good for you. As soon as you arrive, ask to see a woman named Amari Flatflower. She's a half-elf, like you and me. Tell her a skeevy-looking cleric sent you, and she'll fill in the rest. You got it? Amari Flatflower."

"Got it."

"I'm not sure you do. Repeat it back to me."

"Amari Flatflower."

"And what are you gonna tell her?"

"A cleric sent me."

"A *skeevy*-looking cleric."

"Skeevy… looking," Jonas said uncertainly.

Eh, what the hell. Amari would probably give Goro's name away the second Jonas said anything to that effect. "It's Goro. Tell her Goro sent you."

"Goro," Jonas said. "Is *that* one your real name?"

"Honestly, kid, I don't have a fucking clue." Goro patted him on the shoulder. "Alright, I got places to be. Look after yourself."

"Thanks, Mister Goro."

Goro had already started to walk away, but for that he had to turn back around. "That sounds fucking ridiculous. Never call me that again." He waved and kept walking.

He knew why he'd done it, but it still didn't make any fucking sense. Hundreds of orphans running around this city, and helping out one lone runaway wasn't going to make a dent in the pile. Still, he wouldn't have been able to sleep at night if he'd done nothing. That kid just got into his head. Lucky him.

Yeah, maybe that was just the way the world worked. Jonas got lucky.

Goro had been lucky once, too.