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The driver you and Magnus hired was relatively pricey, given that he was somebody who serviced clientele with paunchy wallets, but Magnus didn’t complain about the price, and had him take you both directly to the hotel where he and Yuliana were staying. There weren’t any dark clad Bastards’ Horns about, let alone following you, when you walked in.
The hotel itself, despite being near a shady part of town, wasn’t a run-down building or poorly serviced. It was just adjacent to part of the Capital that, once, had been better patrolled. That said it was nothing fancy either, and you had no doubt it had been selected for budgetary reasons rather than preference. Strosstadt was certainly not a place you’d want to go to be a tourist.
Still, the place was ten stories tall. Not a small building- and the length of time on the elevator to get up to Yuliana’s room on the ninth…there weren’t many things that scared you, but you couldn’t help but feel nervous knowing how high up you were.
When you arrived at Yuliana’s room and she opened the door, wearing something different from the gaudy metallic top she had on before, replacing it with a simple sleeveless number with a singular indulgence to fanciness emblazoned in the center of the chest- the back was absent til below the shoulder blades, you noted. The silver haired woman was bright and cheery upon seeing Magnus…then her expression darkened at you only a little, then more, as she recognized you after a moment, shifting her eyes to scan your outfit. A big change from the pile of silks you had on before.
“Magnus,” she said, eyes cold on you, “A streetwalker seems to have stuck herself to you...and stolen <span class="mu-i">my</span> ribbon.”
“Nah,” you pushed yourself into the room ahead of Magnus and past Yuliana, your hand pushing on her chest and swinging her aside like a second door, “Ain’t no whores who dress like this, certainly not around here.”
“Have some peace for just a moment,” Magnus interrupted before either of you could try to stick in further barbs, placing himself between you. “Yuliana. We must discuss the terms of your<span class="mu-i">Ciecieksiczyca</span> trials.”
Yuliana’s expression hardened. “Very well.” She glanced to you. “Yours first, then.”
“Motorcycles,” you said, jerking your thumb behind you, “They’re ready whenever. Me on one, you on the other. Straight patch of road to get some speed. We play chicken. Whoever turns away or eats shit after the pass, loses. Like jousting, y’know?”
“I accept.” Yuliana said defiantly. “I expected you to pick something less fair. I wouldn’t have a hope in a race.”
“I wanted t’ make it interesting,” you returned, “What’s yours, then?”
“In respect to your own allowance,” Yuliana seemed to mull over something, “I propose cooking. The heart is connected to the stomach. Satisfying both is a necessity to any pairing. You should be willing to prove your worth or lack thereof.”
