Odette had settled herself toward the back of the dining hall, dead set at whittling away at a cup of tea while she merely overheard the conversation at hand. All she needed to hear was something else about the mayor, and apparently, some other 'mon from her group had come to deliver.
"I get the impression that we will need to get ourselves on the same page regarding this matter as soon as possible," she began. "So, first and foremost, do you intend to keep your word to the mayor?"
Already off the great start.
The Oshawott rested his elbows on the table, like some kind of heathen, his gaze drifting from Mhynt to the Sneasel and back again, before quipping, in a dry, displeased tone, in answer to the Treecko’s question, “Highway robbery, for which the punishment is death.”
He didn't realize he was baring his fangs. "Death? No, not interested. What if he wants to... Eat them or something."
And she immediately took it all back upon hearing these drops. So
were they dealing with a psycho penguin that liked to dismember mawile (or in this case, floragato) in his basement?
"Which is why it won't happen," she continued. "The observant among you may have noticed my usage of the past tense when referring to the gallows and indeed, if you look now, you'll find them scorched to the ground. The mayor seemed particularly sensitive about it when pressed meaning that its an insecurity and genuine spanner in his system, something we can and should take advantage of." She looked back over the posters thoughtfully. "The key thing here is to remain within the mayor's good graces. Ruining that would leave us in a far worse spot than we are now, meaning that if we wish to undermine him, we will need to do it in a more subtle way."
She had to raise a brow. Her immediate notion was to wonder why the fuck anyone would want to remain in his good graces, but being that she'd spent so much time schmoozing the rich for her own gain back in her world, she truly had no room to object.
There was a brief moment of pause and suddenly, Bellatrix was gone. Instead, sitting on the edge of the table was Sonora herself, or at least a very close approximation of her, the only discrepancies being the fluffy white tail with a red tip and the disposition. "That leaves the first order to ensure that the gallows are not rebuilt in a functional state upon Sonora's apprehension," the 'floragato' added. The illusion traced a claw down the bridge of her nose. "As for why we should aim for their arrest, it's to minimize the risk of another hunter deciding to bring her in dead unless, of course, it's suddenly fine if someone else does it."
Impressive, again, she thought, sipping more of her tea.
"Okay, what the fuck are you talking about?" he said at last. "We can't afford to alienate this particular group of random fucking highway robbers? Did I miss where we had some sort of obligation to these people? Has everyone gone fucking insane?"
There was that poochyena, Dave, again. Spitting facts. While Bellatrix did have a point about staying in Ignutjob's good graces, there was also a valid point in just simply...playing their own side. In the end, they really were outsiders here. What if helping either of them just led to a bad ending regardless?
"If you missed it, the reason I bring any of this at all was because I and a few others were hired by the mayor to protect this gala, and it's not something we cannot just not do seeing that we'd agreed to his terms to repel the gang from the gala." Of the lot, Mhynt seemed like the most competent of the bunch and the illusion nodded along to her words. "We want to remain on his good side because some of us still rely on his help to get by and there is no telling what he will do if we get on his bad one. Unless of course, you'd like your own wanted poster and trip to the gallows."
There it is, she thought. She wanted to be shocked, but truthfully, if Sonora had been so eager to hire some to help her, then there was little doubt the mayor wasn't too far behind.
“Something is up with this gala. I don’t believe these thieves are staging such an elaborate infiltration just on the off-chance they’ll nab some fancy jewelry and embarrass that prick of a mayor. They’re after something at this gala, something specific, though I have no clue what it is.” He leaned back in his seat. “But it’s something that the mayor wants to keep hidden at all costs, and I, for one, intend to find out what he’s hiding.”
The rockruff--Blueball, because she'd forgotten what his name was--was right on the dot. For the most part. Not that Odette herself knew more than what Sonora was letting on, but she doubted Ignoxious was all that loose-lipped about the gentrification thing.
“It’s worth considering,” he lied. “But I think it’s too risky to leave it up to just one person. Better if we could find a way to get a small group inside.”
Suddenly, the invitation she'd gotten from Sonora was burning a tear in her garter belt. She wasn't planning to say anything yet, but...
"It's an ego stroking session of the rich. Wanting things to go smoothly or not have a party crashed by bandits is solely a matter of reputation. It doesn't necessarily mean that there's an army of skeletons in his closet." Though, admittedly, Bellatrix would not have been surprised in the slightest if that did end up being the case. But the way the rockruff worded himself...
"Fuck it," she muttered, standing up and walking over to the group, ignoring those who had started to leave. Good, less to overhear this.
"Sorry," she said as she nudged her way into the group. "Not really good at the whole 'butting in' thing, but I think this is relevant."
She leaned against a nearby chair, minding her jaws as she did. "Kind of a freaky coincidence that you've been solicited by the mayor, I assume, around the same time I had a chance meeting with the weeded feline herself," she said, lowering her voice to ensure only those in immediate earshot would catch it. "But I won't get into that right now."
She crossed her arms, tilting her head thoughtfully as she recalled the meeting for the tenth time that morning. "According to her words, of which I am not fully inclined to believe yet--but let it be known I'm versed in the art of lie detection--the gala is meant to serve as a means to convince more of the snotty silver spoon babies in the area to line
Ignaughty's pockets, expand his influence, and take more land away from the locals. You know, gentrifying it. In true rich bastard fashion," she explained with a sarcastic inflection and a shrug to match.
"I tried to ask if she knew anything deeper but she vanished before we got that far. I can't quite say if there's more there, but I could bet something there might be."
Before she went any further, she raised her hands if surrendering. "I'm truly not here to get into an argument with anyone, so
please let me preface this with the fact I have no definitive line of action in my head yet. I'm still info gathering," she said. Her eyes then cut down to the straps around her legs, and she was suddenly rifling underneath her skirt fabric. "However..." she cringed, "...sorry, garters are better than pockets..."
She didn't intend to pull it all the way out. There was no reason to let the whole world know she had it. But she flashed the gala invitation just enough to allow the group to see.
"I just wanted to say that we have a few more
options in terms of how to go about it
." 
