Fitzgerald was still pissed at the arbiter for the whole "arrest" and "interrogation" hullabaloo, but... Honestly, he could've been more pissed. His parents still hadn't been contacted yet, and it wasn't like he was confined to the office for all hours of the day - for every day. There were still times when he was able to get up and do his own thing, possibly to keep up the illusion that he was doing just fine and not at all being detained, and Fitzgerald had grown to appreciate such moments. Oh, and he was currently eating a cookie that he had bought from one of those excursions. Of course he was.
However, would all of this newfound contentment stop him from trying to negotiate his way out of what he personally considered a shithole? Probably not! The youth, after all, existed first and foremost to be a bit of a sniveling rich bitch at heart!
Waving his hand, the young man grunted in between suspiciously minuscule bites of his cookie, "So, if you're going to ask me more questions, you're out of luck. You know how much I told you, and how much you already know about me. You have that damn file on me anyways. Why not use it, or something? Call my parents or something. Take me back home. I bet they're begging for me to come back." As he went on, it became more and more obvious that - well - his tone was getting bitter; his voice, by the end of it all, was a stark contrast to the sweetness of the cookie, and - accordingly - he clutched the pastry in his hand while trying to keep his cool.
"Besides, I don't even know why you're so dogged about this," Fitzgerald sighed as he leaned forward, though his voice remained decidedly acidic in tone. Venom dripped from his words, as he attempted to eye the other party for any sign of a reaction. "I think at this point, I should start charging you for each question you ask. I think it'll make things more interesting, wouldn't you agree?" That's called bribery, asshole. Like father, like son?
Fitzgerald allowed his eyes to flutter for a second, then continued with a honeyed laugh, "Besides, I know that you have other clients to attend to- I mean, other detainees..." He shook his head while continuing to chuckle, then leaning back against his chaise. "So, how about it? I can give you information, but... At a price. But I don't think you have a lot of money now, do you now?" he added somewhat tauntingly before glancing around the room.
What menial object to throw into this fray? Unfortunate fray, to be more descriptive.
After a period of contemplation, a spark appeared in the youth's eyes as he proclaimed with enthusiasm, "I know! I can give you one answer to one question, for the price of... How about one pastry? Any pastry. Cookies, macarons... I'm being damn generous, you know." No, you're being selfish. Hope your teeth fucking rot, young man. "One pastry per question. Any question too. I think it's reasonable, as both a price and compensation. Wouldn't you agree, sir?"
Nathaniel.... I am so sorry.... mostly because Fitzgerald really isn't that helpful for your extravagant evil plan™️...
follow-up time, my dudes. potential cw for descriptions of animal gore, but... it's just kind of a dead fish being cut open, so take that how you will.
Fitzgerald’s nose twitched like an alarmed rabbit’s while he carefully weaved his way through the ports. Zeewolven territory. He should’ve known better than to traverse through these cobbled streets after his encounter with Nathaniel last time, but… Alas, he was stupid. Perhaps he thought that because the leidsman didn’t beat the shit out of him (even when he literally asked him what a Half was), he was going to be fine.
Famous last thoughts.
He instinctively froze when he saw the leidsman himself hauling in his latest catch: hagfish, a vampire, and a few other miscellaneous fish Fitzgerald thought of as so common that they weren’t worth notating. Much of them squirmed as they struggled to free themselves from the mesh, though a few looked visibly discombobulated from the sudden change in water pressure. After the initial shock of the brush faded away, Fitzgerald slowly moved a foot forward to continue on his way, then-
“Oy, kid, you look lost.”
Goosebumps forming on his neck, Fitzgerald gazed over in Nathaniel’s direction before shaking his head and exclaiming, “Oh, no! I was just trying to get through the beaches for, well, more research. Drakenburg is a port city, after all. I think it’d make sense for an intern like myself to at least study its marine life every so often.” It wasn’t a complete lie, though the grimace he attempted to hold back when eyeing the hagfish suggested that it wasn’t the complete truth either. He much preferred the aggressive krös of the New Chapel to… Whatever the fuck these piscine creatures were. “Like… Seagulls and such,” he quickly clarified soon after. Nice save.
“So yea, I’m not here for the seal pelts,” sniffed the youth with a wave of his hand, “though… I don’t have any information either. Sorry.” And he meant it, because he was dumb as fuck. Fitzgerald glanced over his shoulder for a moment before slowly moving his foot back to directly underneath his frame; however, in the process, he lifted up a notepad he had been taking notes in, and if Nathaniel squinted hard enough, he could read some of the notes that had been scribbled down. Seagulls, as he had claimed. Convenient.
It was this notepad that Fitzgerald started to write in when the Easterling started to opine about them. Admittedly, describing these birds’ attraction to blood was… Probably a weird topic to bring up? Especially because what the young man expected as an introduction was its plumage, or the way the birds roosted when it rained… Normal shit. Not… Whatever the fuck Nathaniel was talking about at the moment.
But probably for the sake of self-preservation, the aristocrat nodded to the bits of information. Hopefully his boss wouldn’t be able to figure out just whom he was consulting with for the sake of research.
He raised his brows when Nathaniel offered to cut open one of the fish for seagull bait. As repulsive as it was… (Ew, fish guts!) Fitzgerald supposed that it could work, given that the sailor did have some experience with the sea, despite never being on it himself. Thus, he nodded, but not before taking a step back so that his clothes wouldn’t smell so much like decay when the inevitable odor of fish wafted through the scene.
“Then why catch them in the first place?” asked the young man with a sniff when their value was mentioned. Now he thought Nathaniel was a coward. Better not fucking say that out loud, kid. He shuffled his feet as the older man grabbed a hagfish from the net and laid it out on a rock like an offering. Well, if it was an actual offering to the Void, Fitzgerald hoped this “entity” kicked Nathaniel’s ass. Imagine thinking that being given a hagfish was a compliment- Oh wait.
Nodding to Nathaniel’s words again, Fitzgerald watched as the hagfish was cut open, a saline yet also clearly disagreeable scent starting to emerge as the flesh started to protrude out slightly from the skin. Eugh! He hoped it wasn’t slimy, but guessing from how the carcass seemed to glisten in whatever sunlight managed to get through the clouds, it probably was.
Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the seagulls after all.
He nodded again to answer his question, but… Based on how much Fitzgerald was looking off to the side, he probably wasn’t being honest. It smelled like fish guts and rotting flesh here. He hated it. He wanted to study those big ass birds again.
“Thanks…” parsed the youth uneasily before stepping forward to eye the dissected hagfish, then flipping over to a new page in his notepad and starting to scribble down some notes. He wasn’t going to give it the honor of a rendered sketch. Spite worked that way. Once he was done, he turned up his nose at the other and shuffled his feet. “I’ll consider it. I think he’s just busy, but I’ll try making him free up some time…” grunted the young man with a pout, “Just don’t expect it to work, since he works on his whims, hm?”