The undercity's gonna eat you alive

Caitlyn clenched her fists and jaw in an attempt to control her anger, as she tried to stay in control of her emotions.  She also resisted the urge to yell at the yordle and tell her how illegal it was to traffic citizens.  She needed to focus and stay in control of her emotions.

She then took a breath to calm herself, and after closing her eyes to compose her thoughts, opened them and looked down at the tables of the people who were apparently there to… bid, on her.  

She took another breath and slowly turned her eyes to the table she was facing.

Looking at the person sitting at the first table, she saw that her assessment of the first occupant was correct; he was not human.  He was a large heavyset brute with pale green skin with dark spots and pointed ears.  As her eyes focused, they widened in a moment of recognition and surprise, as she saw that the individual, wearing a black suit jacket that barely fit, and an eye patch, was someone she’d actually seen before.  It was the street chef she saw with the convict.  The one called, Jericho, was it?  Yes, that was it.  As if noticing that she recognized him, the brute flashed her a toothy grin with his yellow-stained triangular teeth as a brothel waitress brought him a drink and bowed before moving off.  It was the same grin he had given her at his street kitchen.  She was dismissive of the grin he gave her then, but seeing it in her current predicament, it took on a more eerie and leery tone.

Caitlyn took a step back on reflex and felt herself press against the back of the glass.  She then turned to the the table to the right of the brute, as sweat began to form on her forehead and neck.  She gave her head a shake, as if to shake the image of Jericho from her head.

The occupant at the next table was the opposite of the first in appearance.  They were so short, their head and shoulders were barely visible above their table.  Caitlyn could see that it was a yordle.  She then noticed that the yordle was the same one that had walked by her and the convict in the hallway.  He wore a full black leather suit, and a face mask that covered his face and even ears.  He wore a filter mask of some sort.  His ears, pierced with rings, jingled slightly as he wiggled his ears.  The way he wiggled his ears, it seemed like he was somewhat, excited, Caitlyn thought to herself uneasily.  She blinked once and turned away so that she could look out the third glass wall of the booth, so that her back was turned to Jericho.  She then focused her gaze on the occupant in the third table that circled her booth.

She blinked in surprise as she recognized who it was.

It was… 

Pim?  

The patron she had attempted that uncomfortable conversation with earlier.  Based on how nervous he sounded when he spoke, her initial impression of him was that he was just a shy, harmless person who had wandered into the brothel without knowing what it really was.  But here he was, calmly sitting in front of her, while she was trapped in a glass booth.  Caitlyn felt a spike in her anxiety as she continued to stare at him.  

When she first encountered him, the mask he wore seemed silly, almost childish.  It was a white porcelain mask with red dots on its cheeks.  The mouth of the mask was carved in the expression of a smile, with small red lips painted on.  The eyelets were black circles, It seemed like something a child would wear.  But seeing him before her, sitting and staring calmly while she was trapped in the booth, the sight of the mask now looked different to her.  It looked eerie and ominous, as if it was hiding something darker underneath.  Earlier she had been curious to know what Pim looked like underneath, believing she would likely just find herself looking into the eyes of a shy clerk or embarrassed civil servant.  But now, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know who was underneath that mask.  And what kind of person would come to a brothel in order to… bid, on someone who was being put on display against their will.  

She could feel her skin crawling, accompanied by a cold sweat which she tried to ignore.  She swallowed as she continued to just stare at Pim, who sat motionlessly.   With an effort, she broke her gaze and turned to the fourth and final glass wall, to look at the occupant at the last of the four tables surrounding her.

It was a human female.  The part of her that wasn’t obscured by the table, was mostly covered by a dark red cloak that was wrapped around her shoulders.  Her right hand was on the table, holding a cigarette.  She had dark brown skin and her hair was tied back loosely, giving the appearance that her hair was parted near the top of her head, with a few strands falling on her broad forehead.  She looked a few years older than Caitlyn,  and some scars lined her cheeks and square jaw, making it look like she’d been in some fights.  Caitlyn couldn’t see the woman’s left hand, but her left shoulder seemed odd, as it seemed to jut outwards a few inches more than her right shoulder.  Maybe she had her arm in some sort of sling, and that was why it was hidden beneath her cloak, Caitlyn theorized.  But what unnerved the Enforcer the most was the way the person was staring at her as she exhaled her cigarette.  The way she sat, she carried an air of someone who was always in control, and didn’t care what others thought of her.  And she seemed to be staring at, or rather, through her, blinking and narrowing her dark eyes.  Caitlyn narrowed her eyes in response, as if trying to stare her down and show that she wasn’t afraid of her, despite her being the one trapped in a glass booth.  But all it did was make the woman stare back at her even more intently, before giving the Enforcer a leering smile that caused Caitlyn to step back and look away to another part of the room.  

As she did so, she caught sight of the yordle again, this time standing back a few feet from the tables near a far wall.  Caitlyn noticed that the only other occupants in the room were the scantily clad workers wearing masks, who had been going from table to table offering drinks and asking if anything else was needed.  As they did so, they left what looked like a paddle on each table.  As Caitlyn examined the paddle, she could see that it had a dark brown handle, and the card portion, red in colour, was the size of someone’s hand.  The yordle then began walking towards the centre of the room.  To the four tables, and the booth they were surrounding.

The yordle took a long drag of her cigarette and exhaled as she walked by the tables towards the elevated glass booth Caitlyn was in.   As the yordle reached the tables, she smiled and greeted each of the four clients in turn before turning towards Caitlyn and circling her booth.  The yordle stopped and then looked up at Caitlyn, who could only stare back angrily from within the booth as her hands, clenched into fists, remained at her sides.  The yordle then turned to the four seated at their tables as she spoke:

“So, my dears, do I have a starting bid?”