Rising Tides [open]

"Worry not, I am sure we can find a way to rectify your lack of funds. I am not worried about wealth and I am sure we can come to sort of agreement for payment for your services." Sigma couldn't help, but smile despite the fact that he had no visible face and with Maine wearing his helmet, it would be impossible to see any emotion coming from them with how calm and collected Sigma was. It was true, he had no use for money except for maintaining equipment, beyond that, anything else would only be needed for a stormy day.

As he watched his 'partner' find his mark, Maine settled into a wall, leaning and watching the scene, with Sigma recording it through his helmet to ensure that if they needed to review it later, he would be able to do so. By now, there were several people giving him weird looks, after all what he was wearing was in no way shape or form part of this world. But, unless they initiated a fight, he wouldn't go picking one.

The bokor wasn't quite as concerned with cash at the moment which was a strange thing for him. Tin Man stood out worse than him in his metal suit as they parted for the moment. He glanced back at his "companion" who had taken to holding up a piece of wall and most likely watching him as well as everyone else. He dismissed being watched over like that and focused on the moron before him. He almost felt bad for the guy, drinking away his sorrows.

He spent several minutes of useless conversation just trying to suss out what the pirate wanted most. It was hard to get through the stupor of liquor and the slurred speech made the words almost unrecognizable, but obviously he wanted to be his own captain, run his own ship so he could take prizes of his choosing. He was tried of just being one of the whelps scrubbing the decks and running sails. Poor thing. Facilier planned on giving this poor sap his wish in the worst way possible. He just needed a few things first.

Information was a lot easier to come back after that promise. The pirate was in much better spirits as the doctor rose from the table. I'll see you out front in the morning, He said with a quick tap on the wood and slipped into the crowd. He made his way to the space man, a small frown on his lips. Welcome to Port Royal, circa 1723. He thinks, He greeted. He shook his head and still couldn't understand how someone could not know what year they were living in. What was bothersome was that the loa had sent him two hundred years into the past. Louisiana wasn't all that far considering their location and how much farther he could be. It wouldn't be his home he returned to if he went to New Orleans now, if it was even there yet. He probably should have paid more attention to his history.

The dark haired man pulled off his top hat and ran a hand through his hair in mild frustration. You're the only one in an outfit like that here, but I can still skrye for the people you're looking for, He assured, raising a brow and wondering just how much more patience he could get before that nasty looking weapon came back out. I have to go inward on the island for supplies though. Asking the spirits for help in matters like this didn't come with the wave of a hand and magic word. He longed for his shop. He wanted all of his own things and mourned the fact that so much was going to have to be remade and acquired. Facilier turned on his heel and started for the door. If you're coming, I hope you like magic.