Advice and Interrogation (Glen, Dolores)

Bruiser leaps to his feet in a single fluid motion and offers his hand to shake through the bars. "I swear by something better than my honor: my god. And no, I won't tell you which one. That's between him and me."

Glen nods solemnly. "I respect that. Just don't go telling me later that your oath was to Olidammara, and that he told you to trick me because Korogur has a relative who is his cleric." He winks, only half-serious, clasping Bruiser's hand firmly.

Bruiser gives him a very direct look, serious as death while he clasps his hands. "Even oaths to Olidammara are binding, solider boy. He's a trickster, but he has honor."

Then he cracks his neck and grins broadly. "Now. Get me out of here, yeah? I'll take you where you wanna go. You got a boat, or you gonna charm a rental with that pretty face of yours?"

Glen doesn't say anything to question the honor of a trickster god who sees fit to elevate cruel abusers to preferred places of honor in his church, but his gaze is a little icier than it was a moment earlier. Glad to change the subject, he pokes his head back out the way he came. "Shira?" He calls.

Shira never seems to move above an easy amble, yet she's there almost as soon as he calls. "Yeah?"

"I need to take this prisoner into my custody. He is critical to the mission I am working on under the supervision of Eighth Division Vice-captain Dolores Imokina, City Guard Captain Callahan, and Feytower Commissioner Luther Rivvers." He puts his hand into his pocket and takes out the elaborate, bejeweled L that is Luther's symbol, believing it to be the most convincing. "Please release him to me. I will fill out any necessary paperwork and take full responsibility for him."

Shira gives him a skeptical look, but examines the token carefully with her massive fingers. Finally her eyebrows rise and she nods. "Well...okay then. I'm gonna have to get some fresh scrolls. Stay here. Or, no, better yet come with me."

The man in the cell smirks and returns to his bunk, stretching out to wait.

Glen follows. "Thank you. I appreciate your help."

Shira chuckles at this as she sends lackeys running for supplies. "You're a polite one, aren't you. Soldiers aren't often so."

Some time later, Glen has signed his name more times than he can count. The prisoner--named 'Janus Bow' for lack of an actual name--was picked up on petty theft and accusations of piratical associations. Glen is instructed to bring him back after he's done doing 'whatever the nine hells the commissioner has got you doing' but he can tell Shira highly doubts this outcome will occur.

Glen flashes Shira a quick smile. "I've always found that it can't hurt to be polite."

Glen dutifully and patiently completes the paperwork without complaint. He returns to the man's cell. "Well. Looks like you're my problem now, Bruiser." He grins, folding his arms, satisfied.

"My lucky day," Bruiser says with a grin, leaping fluidly to his feet. "Your place or your place?"

He laughs. "My place, yes. Maybe we can stop for a muffin on the way back. I know a good spot."

"Rawr." The man gives him a playful growl, looking amused, and follows him out. "Tell me your name again? I wasn't really paying attention. And the kitty."

Glen chortles a little at the pirate, who certainly likes attention. "Glynlen Liadon, he of the Silverwoods. Folks call me Glen. And this is Elen." The big baby rubs precariously against Bruiser's legs as they walk, affectionately and unintentionally threatening to trip him. "And I suppose you aren't going to tell me your real name, are you? Or, am I going to have to do some other favor to get you to talk?" His face breaks out in a grin; something about the rakish, handsome sailor brings out a bit of mischief in him too.

Bruiser has to dance a little to keep from being tripped by Elen; the 'baby' is heavy enough to pack a serious trip. Still, he doesn't seem troubled by it, grinning all the while. "He's a panther, right? Like, I'm not hallucinating, you have an actual panther in the city? That's wild, my man. Literally."

At the question, he can't help but snort. "I didn't lie! I mean, it's not my birth name given straight from me mum, but folks do call me Bruiser. 'Cept I'm usually taking 'em away rather than dishing 'em out." He waggles his fingers in the air and for just a moment the very tips of his digits seem to glow with inner light.

Glen keeps walking, his face bearing a quiet smile. "Yes. A panther. He's... very special. And quite wild, indeed." The sweet kitten seems very pleased with Bruiser's dance, and continues rubbing up against him, although less trippy this time.

"I got you out of prison and you won't even tell me your name? I'm hurt." He feigns an injury to his chest as they walk.

Glen sees Bruiser's display and does not try to hide that he is sufficiently impressed. "Oh really? I dabble myself." He holds out his hand and a similar glow emanates from his fingers, although without the braggadocio of a finger waggle. "If you don't mind my asking, what is the source of your magic? Mine is the wilds and nature itself - at least that's how I understand it." He tilts his head as he awaits Bruiser's response.

"Oh, look: a ranger whose favored terrain is guilt trips," the man quips with a grin. "Fine, fine, it's Braccus. You gotta admit Bruiser is prettier. And I talk to gods, my man. It's pretty impressive, as long as you don't think too hard about how many other people do too."

Glen laughs at the ranger joke. "Thank you, Bruiser." He grins, reverting back to the man's nickname. "Always good to have someone putting in a good word. Hopefully your deity approves of me and my friends. Although I guess this means I'll have to be nice to you, given that you could smite me. Smite? Is that the word for it?"

"It's 'smitten', my friend, and if you're not already, you will be soon," he teases.

Glen chuckles, shaking his head. "How did you come to be in the, uh, care of Captain Callahan? If you don't mind, of course."

Bruiser makes a face, his lip twisting. "Someone claimed they saw me picking pockets on the street. Which doesn't make any sense at all because there wasn't a thing on me when the guard picked me up. But mistakes get made, don't they."

Glen's eyes sparkle with amusement. "So, you didn't do it?"

This earns a haughty look. "Do I look like someone who needs to steal to make money? Sir, I'm wounded."

Glen smirks. "I can't help but notice you still haven't answered my question."

"Because my heart is broken," he sniffs manfully.