"Speech."
"Discorso in un'altra lingua."
"Speech understood by the speaker, or native speech."
'Thoughts.'
(Memory.)
Words spoken with emphasis.
enjoy.
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That Assassin, Punctual
(-)
Jacob tried not to let too much pleasure show on his face, nevermind what kinds of narcotics or tricks these men had up their sleeves. The last thing he wanted was to breathe in whatever sort of nasty crap they could have thrown into his face to revolt him or otherwise. Two men came at him at once and Jacob felt himself move on autopilot, reflexes kicking in as he sent the cane shaft flying into the path of one so he could focus on the closest, a man on his right armed with a pair of knucks so rusty he was practically giving away free tetanus shots with every swing.
But Jacob wasn't exactly unarmed himself, twisting the handle in his grip, the blade itself sat snugly between the middle and index before he jut the bladed end into the abdomen of his foe. This man seemed tougher, bearing with the pain as he hugged the Assassin close to deliver a sharp knee into his chest, but being so close only gave Jacob even more of an advantage. Taking the opportunity he had to fill the man up with even more holes before finally pushing his body aside.
Without a second to breathe, he was soon assailed by the second man. Brass around his fist glinting in the light, the brute grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him off and over to the side of the train car, pinning him to a table before chambering his arm for a wicked left hook. Jacob's eyes shot around the room, taking in what details he could to better improvise this fight, finding none he slipped a hand under the one which held him pinned to the table- dining table, cutlery, silverware, China, Tea? - at last the brute delivered a dizzying blow, his main hand armed with a cane sword forgotten as he swapped it out for a lovely scarlet pot and gripped it by the rim. "Hrrargh!" Growled the Italian over him, the knuckle punching into his brow as blood began to drip.
The impact of the pot made little noise to be heard over the disorderly mess that was the gramophone still working ever so hard to perform its duties amidst the brawl. Another growl escaped the brute's maw, one filled with spittle and a greedy pleasure? Was he looking forward to getting a sweet bonus to his next paycheck for sending the man responsible for disrupting the mafiosi operations into a sweet sweet slumber? "Maiale inglese!" The next blow that swung into his head left it wringing, the hood did little to protect him from something designed to strike past the quilted barriers like a hammer does to nails. It seemed that even with the dirt obscuring his features and blood spilled across both their faces, in his rage the bigger man still managed to power on through.
Leaving Jacob with little options, he withdrew his hand and slammed into the brute's kidney. With a squelch did he take his hand away, the hidden blade finally drawn beneath his wrist at last bloodied in the night. But more than that, Jacob steadied himself on the table before reaching once more for his revolver.
tk-BOOM! The first shot was muffled, but none could get their eyes off the bloodied back of their comrade before he was wrenched off the hooded man only to be brought to the floor and shot a final time in the head. With a sheepish smile, Jacob eyed the eight other gents in the room and loaded another two .45 cartridges inside before getting to work - the light trigger of his single-action revolver dropping the hammer with the exact ease he had switching between targets for each bullet.
(-)
Lau and his wonderfully talented sister stood grisly sight, the Ferro Company lay amongst a mess of blood and exotic imported goods - gracefully stepping over each body as he examined the scene in closer detail. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the air, and each train wagon consisted of at least two guards. Someone targeted this transport in particular… crouching down to rifle through the jackets of the dead, Lau was soon interrupted by his sister, clearing her throat as she held out a small book.
The Dragon nodded lightly in acknowledgement of her actions and rose to read the book in a better light. It was clearly a ledger of sorts, though pages were ripped from it - cut would be a more precise word for it. His eyes don't widen in response to the discovery of what the train carried aboard, instead he shook his head. Amused by the prospect of the Italian Company not only getting their substances past customs, under the vigilant eye of the Queen's Watchdog no less, but at the chancing thought of a vigilante on the loose. Ah really, it was quite a joy to watch the deductive preform their work to the fullest. It was more fun yet to see the Ferro's spirits hadn't faltered despite initially losing Azzuro when he crossed him.
"Ran?" He called out, interrupting the girl as she bit into a vacant bar of chocolate left on the table. She didn't stop of course, nibbling on it's edge lightly as she paid attention. "Could you be a dear and clean this mess up? I have a letter to write to our dear old friend." That and the bobbies were sure to arrive soon, meaning that he hadn't had much time to lea- something rolled against the floor behind him. A bullet cartridge? Though his eyes almost seemed shut, Lau turned to look over his shoulder with a delicate smile. "Oh?" He hummed aloud in English, "It seems we still have a guest to entertain."
A man looked back up at the two, not quite a difficult feat lying on the floor as he was, nursing his head and an ugly bump that had formed. His lips wrinkling beneath those mutton chops as he cursed his luck, "Cazzo."