Ceramic Rifles [Egypt/Finland]

[Gupta M. Hassan]

Ahh, Londonium again. He wasn’t too fond of the city, overcrowded and too… European for his tastes. The city was stained with the smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume, and though brilliance would shine through some cracks in the wall, the ugly sludge of the masses was too much for Gupta to overlook. It would kill him to live here, and with his captain’s fondness of strutting around town, he would not be exploring elsewhere any time soon. In that time the best thing to do would be to make the best of your free time, yes? And with the ship resting down at the docks for days at a time, there was not much work for a mechanic. It was not nearly as much as he was accustomed to, nor the amount he would fancy.

In all this spare time when the ship would go about the town and enjoy themselves in run-down taverns and getting in a kerfuffle with rival groups, Gupta would go around himself, exploring the seemingly endless city to make a mental map. It would help around here if he was ever in any need to run. The many repair shops and artillery stores had been all conquered by him, and it was only now did he make his way around the nicer areas of the city, some days sitting in with coffee shops or floral stands. Neither of interest, as it all looked too similar.

Gupta tugged his keffiyeh over his mouth, the crisp morning air chilling him. Far too cold for his taste, he thought, but it wasn’t much of a bother to him. Window-shopping in the morning was always something he preferred, as not too many people are out and about besides going on coffee runs or hustling their asses to work. The Arab walked down the road, mindlessly looking at the types of shops there were: bakery, pastry, café, firearms, another bakery--

His eyes flitted back to the gunsmith shop. Now how out of place was that? Surely something to check out, that’s what he first thought. He approached the store, shuffling in with a little ring of a bell attached the door, peering around to the cozy – yet menacing, with all the artillery – store.

^{[ Sooo getting this shop’s location wrong OTL ]}

[Tino Väinämöinen]

[Ohmygod sorry I'm so totally late with this *fail*]

No matter how much he preferred countryside to big cities like Londinium, Tino couldn't deny that on mornings like this he found himself actually liking the capital. It was too early for many people to be up and outside yet, offering a wonderful silence in the usually buzzing city, but it was late enough for the sun to have risen above the horizon, its golden light illuminating the wooden houses and the streets and pouring in through the small window of his apartment. Tino felt his lips curve into a dreamy smile as he slowly sipped his coffee and watched the small particles of dust sparkle in the rays of light that striped the worn floorboards. It was quite pretty.

However, the old clock on the wall kept ticking away and eventually chimed the time for him to finish his breakfast and get everything ready for the day. Tino downed the last droplets of his already cold coffee and gagged slightly at the taste before going about his usual morning routine; do the dishes, dress up, go downstairs to the workshop and lit the hearth to chase away the cold that crept in during the night, then do what little cleaning there was to do in the front before opening the store. It was still rather early so there weren't many people outside yet; the busiest hours were around noon or a little later which usually left him time to work on commissions and his own projects at the back in the mornings and most of the evenings.

But not today, it seemed. Barely two minutes after he'd flipped the sign hanging at the door to 'open' there was the sound of a bell jingling and the front door creaking. Tino stood up behind the counter where he'd been organizing the receipts and and smiled up at the customer. The man had some kind of scarf wrapped around his shoulders and lower face, obscuring his features. By what Tino could see, though, he was able to tell that the man was visiting for the first time. He didn't look like the kind of men (and sometimes women) that mostly made his clientele; he was sure he'd remember someone with such exotic looks.

”Welcome!” Tino beamed at the man and motioned for him to come closer. ”What can I do for you, sir? Are you perhaps in need of new firearms? Or if you need something fixed, we offer that kind of services too.”

[Exotic looks pfff Fin stop checking out your customers you dirty thing you And I bet Fin likes it between bakerys, it smells good~ ]

[Gupta M. Hassan]

^{[ Not an issue, darling, I take much longer with replies /lazy ]}

Well, this place was surely a nice contrast to the cold outside: very charming and warm. Then the wave of mocha came upon him and slapped his face. He scrunched his nose a tad – the smell of coffee was never something he had enjoyed. A small snort and the lingering scent was for the most part expelled from his nose, though some would always adhere to his nostrils. No time to keep that hindering him, he shall explore on. But it was all the merchandise lined along the wall which made him chary. He had never been a good shot, and some had been wary of him holding a firearm, so usually he did not go near the things in fear he’d set them off and blow a gasket (a personal experience which caused many multiplications in the engine room). It was a shame, for he’d love to take it apart and study the design of the thing. He was out of luck, for there were only live guns on a pirate ship. Any that broke were chucked, for they served no use in combat.

His attention turned to the younger man at the greeting. The effusive Arab stood still, studying the other while holding the silence. A cheery, if not perverse on karma’s part, one this guy seemed to be, hardly the type that would be interested in weaponry – then again, he should not jump to conclusions, for the “type” he’s observed had only been back at the convention. Hardly the best experience. Perhaps he was filling in for an older relative who owned the shop, as he being the lone person running this was highly suspicious. Still, it was definitely worth taking a chance to find out some information from him. He would have to see how much he knew about arms. Perhaps this would be his lucky day, to finally find one versed in this field without being a particularly intimidating person…?

After much thinking, he decided to surmount his doubts and simply tug at his scarf, loosening the fabric. It dropped onto his shoulders, revealing the lower part of his face. That was his hello. He inched toward near the desk, taking off his haggard gloves which constantly had a film of slime on them, and quickly shoved them into a back pocket. He could not help but to feel naked without the material, but it would be easier for him to study the things hands-on if he got the feel for the things. When at the counter he brushed the counter with his fingers, taking a moment before actually setting them down on there, his eyes lethargically moving from the actual shopkeeper over to a rifle hanging behind the other. Yes, he was most definitely the awkward customer.

[Tino Väinämöinen]

Tino tilted his head questioningly when the man didn't say anything in response. Usually his customers started the small-talk the moment they stepped through the door, or even if they were shy first-timers they quickly loosened up at the Finn's bright greeting and bubbly nature. However, the man turning to stare at him was the only sign that he had even heard him in the first place. Was he mute? Or perhaps he didn't understand English. That sounded like the more logical explanation to Tino, given the man's strange clothing.

When the stranger kept looking at him in complete silence, Tino could feel the smile on his face turning a bit awkward under the piercing eyes. Being the center of someone's attention wasn't something he was used to, let alone something he was comfortable with.He had no idea what to do. While he did enjoy silence to some extent, he usually preferred meaningless conversation with his customers when they were present. It did wonders to lighten up the mood. And even though Tino had learned how to be a pretty good conversationalist during his years in Londinium, it was much easier when your partner was cooperative.

After what felt like about five minutes, the man pulled down the scarf from his face and slowly stepped forward, breaking the ice. Letting out a mental sigh, Tino used the few seconds to pull himself together. Even if they lacked a common language, the man was still a customer and Tino would try and serve him the best he could. The Finn waited patiently while the foreign man tugged off his gloves, allowing him do things at his own pace. Tino couldn't help but note that the older man seemed to be somewhat at loss, shy, even.

When the man finally looked up from the desk, Tino craned his neck to follow his gaze to the shelves behind the
counter. Quickly putting things together in his head, the gunsmith raised a questioning brow and turned on his heels to point at the weapon closes to him. ”Would you like to take a closer look, sir?” He asked, doing his best to speak slower than usual and tone down his accent. Hopefully that would be enough for the man to be able to understand the meaning.