Bustin' Outta Here -- Legally

If there is something Norrington is good at, it's putting people in jail and keeping people them there. Delilah was supposed to have been released after a day; it's been four, and Norrington has managed to keep her in the same cell, tied up in legal proceedings and beaurocracy. It takes time, afterall. The wheels of justice only grind but slowly, afterall. Don't steal something next time (I DIDN'T).

Presently, the golden haired sorceress sits on the same pallet she's been sleeping on for the last four nights. Her hat sits on the pallet beside her, her corset is unlaced for comfort, and she's busy smoking something she got from one of the other prisoners -- largely unsuccessfully, given the amount of coughing going on.

One reliable indicator that Donna is here and in a temper is the traveling sounds of commotion. It can be heard under the jail cells at first, the sound of muffled yelling and stomping footprints that travel toward the stairwell, up, then down the hall at the far end of the cell block.

Finally, a pair of Guards can be seen backing into the hallway, attempting to keep stone faces but visibly discomfited by the tirade being thrown by the unarmed, unarmored, black-haired twin to the sorceress. "--unk tank! And you sheepfuckers've been keeping her for *half a week?!* Now *get out of my way* it's still visiting hours goddamnit and I have things to say to *my sister!"

Delilah perks up immediately; if there's anything that brightens being stuck in a jail cell for four days, being fed lousy food, having to resort to using a chamber pot with no privacy, being whistled at by other prisoners, and so forth, it's being visited by her sister. She doesn't stand up like she always has before, this time, just sits and waits; she tries the cigarette one last time, coughs once more, and finally just flicks the thing (three-quarters un-smoked) out between the bars.

The Guards finally part reluctantly, given no good reason to bar Donna's way and a good one to not. "In fact get the clerk," Donna snarls, marching down the hall and up to Delilah's cell door. "We got somethin' to sign."

Finally coming up on her sister's cell, the dark twin doesn't mince words. "Pack your shit and up, D, we're gettin' out of here."

The relief on Delilah's face is palpable. She sighs and hunches over, letting out several days worth of tension in one breath. "Thank *you*," she breathes, rising quickly to her feet. She laces her corset back up more rapidly than she has ever accomplished before, and snatches her hat up off the pallet while already walking up to the bars, sticking one hand through for her sister. "Who'd you have to punch to make that happen?"

The hand is immediately grabbed and squeezed. "Didn't," she grunts. "Went to Temple District, got some legal advice. Long's you sign a promise to show up at the magistrate when your court date hits, an' don't skip town, you can go. Even though that's only for people Who Are Put In REGULAR PRISON AND NOT THE DRUNK TANK!"

This last, ovbiously, shouted over her shoulder at the remaining Guard behind her, who at least looks abashed by this fact.

Delilah squeezes right back, and leans forwards until her face rests against the bars. Anyone might flinch at Donna's angry shouting, and several of the prisoners do, but not the Golden haired sorceress; she just wants to be closer to her sister, even if getting the tip of her nose past the bars is about all she can do. "Well, I'll sign it," she replies, "I'm not running from the law -- especially when I Didn't *DO ANYTHING*." She pauses, and sighs softly. "So, where's this thing I gotta sign, then?"

"Clerk's coming with the papers," Donna says with a sigh, leaning her forehead to tap Delilah's. "Just sit tight for a second, yeah? Gods' breath, this is a mess."

"All I wanted to do was buy you a present," the sorceress mumbles. She blinks rapidly a few times; no tears yet, but she's been looking progressively worn down every day she's been in here. "I didn't even do anything. I just bought a necklace! Paid for it even! Only a little haggling!"

Delilah glances up at the sound of footsteps; the clerk might be on his way, but Norrington has arrived first. For the moment, he isn't saying anything; just standing behind Donna with his arms folded and a face like thunder.

"I know," Donna murmurs, her free hand white-knuckling the bars. When footsteps can be heard, Donna looks up and studies Delilah's face. "...That ain't the clerk, is it."

No, it's not a question.

Turning, the brawler crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the bars of the cell. "Norrington."

Not even the pretense of courtesy, this time. Thunderous expression, meet eyes full of lightning.

Delilah doesn't answer; she doesn't have to, Donna has correctly read the slight downturn of her lips anyway. She goes to back away from the bars, but stops short as she's still holding Donna's hand, and doesn't seem inclined to let go. "What now," she groans, forcing as much exasperation into the complaint as she can muster. "Do you ever sleep? Seriously, you need to go pay attention to missus Norrington or you're gonna be too preoccpied with investigating the milkman to ever come after me again."

Norrington arches an eyebrow upwards, and just talks over Delilah, as if she weren't even there. "I hear you've found a loophole," he replies. "You must have had help. You're the angry one, I've had the 'smart' one locked up all this time. Nevertheless," he continues, adopting a more aloof tone, "Well done, well done. The clerk will be along in a minute, if you *really* want to go through with this."

"No," Donna bites off. "'Loopholes' are what you been jumpin' through to keep my sister locked up. You're turnin' out so twisty you make loopholes when you walk a straight fucking *line,* all I did was secure parole. So *cheer up,* you sad sack of shit, 'cos if we don't turn up to court we *both* get cells. And, yeah. Yeah I really, really want to go through with this, cos I figure we make a liar outta you long enough to your face, somethin's gonna pop."

Having said her piece, she turns her back on the Captain and takes hold of the bars again. "Now if you ain't got business to do, stay outta the clerk's way."

Delilah watches this exchange, and nods her head quickly. "Yeah, we're sure," she replies. "I'm completely certain that I'd like to sleep in a real bed tonight after having a real meal and having a some wine and a decent desert, and enjoy my sister's company instead of being stuck apart from her. So yes, I think we want to go through with it, thanks. Doesn't seem like there's a downside."

"But that's where you're wrong." Norrington reaches out, but stops just short of grabbing Donna's shoulder; instead his hand lowers back to rest on his hip. "Oh, by all means, sign the paperwork and go free if you want to, but remember this; you don't have to skip town for both of you to end up in jail cells. If either of you get picked up for *anything* between now and when you go before the magistrate, it'll reflect very... poorly. On both of you."

"Y'uh-huh, I got that from the Temple too," Donna says, glancing down at the shoulder that Norrington *would* have grabbed, were he a lesser and more foolish man. "An' *Daeus'* folk know that we got a concern some Guard's a little too interested in us, if y'get me. Like he might be willing to bend a law until it cracks, t'make sure we get popped before our time. So, yeah," she says, folding her arms again. "We want to do this. I'll put *my* ass on the line for it, cos' the only one ain't trustworthy enough to keep in the lines here's the one with the *badge.*"

Norrington shrugs his shoulders. "Your choice." he turns to wander off. "I'll go let the clerk in for you, then, you can get your papers signed. Feel free to come and get your sister's weapons back, I would really like her to have them in case she needs them."

As the Knight Captain saunters off, Delilah deflates against the bars. "...I dunno, Donna," she mumbles, "Maybe I *should* just wait to see the magistrate. Even if we manage to avoid him, he's... I mean I dunno, does he have friends who are as bent as he is? I don't want to get you in trouble. I really, really don't want you to get hurt either."

"Probably," Donna mutters. "But you don't get to make that call, D. I don't want you gettin' in trouble either, but someone else's been taking that call outta your hands too. So fuck'm. If he wants to start shit, I am *more* than happy to see he eats it. That's what I do, sis. You know that."

Sweating, the clerk finally arrives, papers in hand and looking more than a little nervous, and not at the sight of an unhappy Donna.

Delilah nods her head slowly. "Alright," she murmurs. "It's been a *long* four days. Let's get out of here, and I owe you dinner for getting me out, okay?" She tilts her head, and looks up as the clerk arrives. "Thanks for coming." She finally disentangles her hand from her sister's, and reaches through the bars with both hands. "So... where do I sign this thing?"

"Before you sign," The clerk says, ruffling the papers and separating them into two piles, "I'm bound to inform you of their contents; by signing your name, you swear by the law and the gods that you intend to remain in the city until such time as your case can be brought before a magistrate. You swear by the law and the gods that you are to be given all other liberties as befitting a free citizen of Alexandria. You swear by the law and the gods that you understand that the penalty of breaking this oath is no less than two weeks in prison, to be served atop whatever crimes you will assuredly have been found guilty of. ...Running or fresh crimes tend to upset magistrates, you see."

"Yeah," Donna says shortly, "I swear. We ain't got no intention of making things worse." That said, she accepts her pen, gives it a quick dip in the inkwell, and signs her name.

"I swear as well," Delilah answers. "And what the heck. If I have to spend the next few days not leaving a room in a tavern, that's better than not leaving this cell by a long shot." She waits for her turn, then dips the pen into the inkwell and reaches through the bars to sign. "Alright. I've signed. Now, I'm pretty sure that I'm allergic to sage grass, I get a crick in my back if I spend four days sleeping on one of those, and I'm going stir crazy. That's what I've learned since I got here. Can I *please* leave now?"

Checking the papers to see that all is in order, the clerk produces a key ring and in short order the cell is open. As Delilah starts to leave, the clerk leans in close. "No one will ever know I said this," he murmurs, "but I'm sorry."

Delilah plops her hat atop her head, and wastes no time exiting the cell. She takes two steps towards Donna, about to say something; then turns to face the clerk once more, confusion writ upon her brow. "...Sorry for... what?" she asks, quietly. "I mean, you just came and helped get me out of here. I don't think you've got anything to be sorry for, I'm grateful."

"For how you've been treated, miss," says the clerk, glancing down the hall. "The Captain may be a Captain, but he doesn't speak for all of us." And with that, he slips past the sisters, making his way back to, presumably, his own office. Donna watches him walk down the hall for a bit, then turns back to her sister, and shrugs.

"You can buy the next dinner. Fernwood on me, now." Delilah bobs her head once. "Alright," she replies. "Let's go get my weapons back, and then we can get out of here, yes? I hope we never see the inside of this place again." She glances at the clerk as he's leaving, and nods once in his direction. "At least they aren't all godawful," she adds. "Just Norrington."

"Yeah," Donna says, sighing. "C'mon. Let's go before that jackass decides we're tresspassin'." Throwing an arm around Delilah's shoulder, Donna leads her sister out of the jail, papers in hand and lightning in her eyes.

On the way out, Norrington is waiting, lounging in a seat behind a desk, with the evidence lockup behind him. He has Delilah's weapons already laid out in front of him. "There you are," he comments rather... cheerfully, as Donna and Delilah enter. "I was wondering if you'd gotten lost, found some mischief to get into before you even got out of jail. ...No matter." He spreads his hands, "Two daggers, one crossbow and bolts, one Dragonspitter and ammunition. Sign here." He shrugs. "The stolen items will have to remain in lock up, of course. Evidence. You understand."

Delilah scrawls a rapid signature, and collects her weapons in record speed, starting with holstering the gun and finishing with slinging the crossbow across her back. Pointedly, she says nothing to Norrington. "Let's go," she mumbles, already starting for the door.

"Nothin' worth our time here," Donna agrees, falling into step next to Delilah, arm still around her sister's shoulders.

Delilah makes it out the door, down the steps, and around the corner. She pulls the brim of her hat down low, and walks like a dignified person for about four blocks. The twins might take one of the many, many shortcuts through Alexandria's network of back alleys, the places where you can go for anything from goods on the cheap to places where you can just get some peace and quiet on the way to wherever you're going; and it's in one of the latter that Delilah finally gives up, throws her arms around her sister, and weeps.

And Donna says nothing, only throws her arms around her sister and hugs tightly, saying nothing about the tears on her shoulder and just letting Delilah cry, while she works herself up to a good dull burn inside.

It wouldn't be the first time this kind of thing has happened, not by a long shot.

And Donna is about getting tired of seeing the world make her sister cry.