All Aboard The Masquerade

[Burgundy]

A town built atop a town atop a town. Known for its prolific Shipwrights, Water Seven saw an upbeat atmosphere on this day. With the fading of the Aqua Laguna season, it was a convenient time at which to schedule certain big events. Not every event was necessarily on the up-and-up, however, with a decently strong marine presence on the island, it took a little planning on the end of the host in such cases.

For instance, tonight, there was a gathering of many the big faces in the black market underworld. To sidestep the authorities, a wealthy citizen 'beyond reproach' was bribed into hosting the event upon a gigantic vessel. A mansion built upon a galleon, which floated on the outskirts of Water Seven. There were a few reasons for this choice of location: The first and primary reason was insurance. The prolific shipwrights of Water Seven could patch this gigantic vessel up in the case of a catastrophic party. Additionally, the Sea Train could convey guests from all across the Grand Line to one hub, where they could rent out specially trained Yagara Bulls to ferry them to the event.

This event was a huge gathering, with countless big shots. The biggest shot of them all was the host, Tristan 'Big Business' Landry, a giant of a man, rendered untouchable by the law thanks to his connections which stretched throughout the criminal underworld. A network like his own was the sort of thing a simple salary man like Lawrence could only dream of.

But on the Grand Line, dreams were meant to come true one way or another. Lawrence put in the work, and his reward was an invitation to the invite-only event, and a chance to tap into a massive criminal network. He fully expected to run out of business cards today, even though he brought extras.

A suit and tie was his usual formality level, but even for himself, he was wearing an especially nice suit. Alongside this suit, he brandished a small ruby red mask of plastic. Truly a black tie masquerade, which was the theme of the event at hand. Though the event itself wasn't necessarily a Ball, the theme was Masquerade, in homage to the sheer scale of the event, and also perhaps part of the deal which Big Business bribed from the wealthy citizen who allowed this event to happen. Whether Tristan himself or the citizen were responsible for this theme remained unclear even as Lawrence eyeballed the invitation he held in his free hand.

Having just dismounted the Rental Yagara and ridden the pully system up to the deck, the suited sailor would walk towards the front of the manor. He was stopped by formally-clad guards with red jackets and tall hats, who gestured and spoke, "Invitation, please."

Lawrence would read the name at the top of the invitation, the individual it was meant for instead of himself. "Henrik Kirch," he would say to them, passing the invite to the gesturing guard. "The guard would cross-check the invitation list to the name on the invite, and nod. With a wave, the large front door of the mansion would be opened from inside.

Lawrence took the invite back and walked inside, the high society atmosphere washing over him like an all-too-familiar wave of nostalgia. No, not nostalgia... Dread? Evil was in the air, but that was simply to be expected. With a mask over his cheekbones, he was sure to be unrecognizable.

[Sam]

Being a West Blue native, Iago had seen what one of the more exotic blues in the world had to offer. From Ballywood's concrete jungles to Kano Country's bamboo forests. Iago had seen much, of course, the Grand Line always seemed to dwarf the wonders of the blue seas by comparison. Water 7 was no exception to this, the floating city as it sometimes was called. It was a town of stone and cobble built on top of each other stacked to the heavens. Here in this land of fountains, stone, and masterful shipwrights, the criminal underbelly was very active.

In fact, it seemed there would be a gala here this very night. The information he had gained from his previous escapade in Pucci... the gourmet city. There he had met with a rather interesting individual with a 30 million beri bounty. A fellow swordsmith who had been a pirate on some old-timer pirate crew. The fight had taken its toll on Iago leaving him severely wounded. In fact, bandages covered much of his body underneath the dapper dark blue suit he was wearing. But it couldn't be helped, he still had some fight in him. Besides, he didn't come to fight. No, he came for information... the pirate responsible for his Father's death operated within the Sea Train ring at times. Something about a connection with an old-timer... Robertain Guiscard? The sly fox.

Whatever the case, Iago paced through the cobbled streets. Nervously approaching the entrance, his face obscured by a fox mask and a large top hat that obscured his ears. It was nearly impossible to spot his true identity under so many layers of clothes. Or to notice the fact he was in fact a mink. Approaching the door he pulled out the invitation card which he very much had stolen. The name printed on it was perfectly ironic.

"Kogetsu Denpachi."

Without as much as a glance, the doorman took the card and gestured for him to enter. Iago gave a gentle bow and walked in as the giant doors of the mansion opened up wide. His invitation was handed to him just before the doors had closed. Perfect, he was in at least. Despite being a brave person by nature, Iago felt a cold sting in the back of his neck. His fox ears twitched slightly under his hat as did his whiskers behind the mask. Something was ringing the bells of doom about this place. Deep down, he knew he had entered the wolves' maw willingly.

---

Iago | Saffron #F4C430 | (Post Count: 1)

[Burgundy]

Lawrence was surrounded by the wealthy noblemen of the underworld, the elite of the shadows. Which was to say, he was surrounded by the sorts of people he needed to do business with. Each one of them was ruthless, no law could restrain their desire to take what was within their grasp. But not every one of them was doing their business cleanly, and that's where Lawrence knew he could come in.

Of course, his business cards today were modified. They had the correct business line number for his Den Den Mushi, but he was smart enough to know that he got in here with a fake name, and leaving business cards with a different name wouldn't fly. His schnazzy suit would certainly get damaged in the resultant scuffle, and while he was fairly confident in his ability to get out of here, he was also here for another purpose.

An auction.

The main event of the day was an auction, set to sell a number of previously priceless treasures from the Black Market. From collectibles long-ago discontinued, to weapons the World Government would want for itself if it discovered them, and many things in-between. Lawrence had stockpiled a hefty financial cushion he intended to blow most of today getting his hands on something good. He didn't actually know what was going on-sale in particular, but the suited sailor felt the tug of destiny when the networking event he wanted to raid for his own business also happened to be a huge black market auction.

Lawrence approached the punch table, and took a cup for himself. With a short sip he could immediately tell that it was spiked. He'd need to use moderation here, since there wasn't terribly much in the way of hydration around here. Perhaps the snack bar would hold some manner of suitable alternative, gelatin cups perhaps.

As he walked past a number of partygoers, he was putpocketing his business cards into any unattended pockets or handbags. The card simply had a picture of Lawrence's unmasked face, with the name 'Henrik Kirch' next to it, a business name of 'The Chequebook Consortium', along with a Den Den Frequency which was effectively a phone line, and a new logo — a red skull stamp overlayed atop two crossing bouquets of fountain pens, which crowned the skull twice with the golden tips; A design he'd finally settled upon after some unfavorable reviews of his previous logo.

Advertising was a dangerous game in his line of business, so he had to make sure his bases were covered.

This all went well until he was putpocketing a business card into the back pocket of a blue-suited, fox-masked individual, and he accidentally shoulder-checked him on his way past. Immediately turning around, he would begin apologizing, "Ah, my apologies, sir." Yet just as quickly he would attempt to abscond the interaction, as he had many pockets to fill and only a party's time to do so.

[Sam]

Of course, Iago hadn't entered the metaphorical wolves den without knowing what he was signing himself up to. That was foolish and Iago was many things but foolish. This consortium of rich folk was meeting up for one reason and one reason only. An auction, all the Don's from the sea train belt and the noblemen of the underworld were meeting up to buy their exclusive goods. Usually illegal things or very rare things that would be hard to find anywhere else.

Like Devil Fruits for example. Even, things the World Government would like to keep away from prying eyes. All this of course was usually to place it in their mansions and brag about it. Rarely did someone actually intend on using these overglorified knickknacks. After all, at least when it came to Devil Fruits? If you were a rich don why even take a chance? They were a gamble after all and simply having one in display was appealing.

As Iago walked across the place, watching all the men and women masqueraded wearing expensive attire talking amongst themselves as some music played in the background he bumped into a man. In a place like this, this usually caused some problems. But of course, Iago wasn't here to cause such problems. Not yet at least... he was here to bash some heads and end the party. But he had to play the long con. Part of that was getting some extra information, luckily he knew exactly how to do that.

"No worries sir, it was my fault. Please... allow me to buy you a drink as an apology."

---

Iago | Saffron #F4C430 | (Post Count: 2)

[Burgundy]

Despite his quickness to attempt to leave the situation and continue his subversive advertisement campaign, he was unable to dip out quickly enough to disappear from the thoughts of the fox-masked individual. Drinks were offered, which was typically code for somebody seeking something. At a party like this, there were equal chances to be propositioned by an underworld figurehead as there were he was about to divulge some information. Nonetheless, he had no clue who he was looking at, and no way to be sure the night would go off without a hitch if he'd decline.

"Ah, you're too kind," Lawrence would seem to backpedal, before shrugging and accepting, "But if you insist, a drink or two shouldn't hurt my chances tonight."

Lawrence, of course, wasn't a hundred percent sure of what he wanted to buy, or if this upcoming auction would have anything he'd want anyways. Yet a man like Henrik probably wouldn't have shown up blind to the contents of the auction vaults. Perhaps something nobody else wanted would be sufficient to slide under the radar. It would be easier to not pinch his belis if he had a little liquor in him.

He would head over to the bar, likely in tow of the fox-masked stranger, subtly putpocketing a few more business cards along the way. A distraction was no excuse for negligence, after all.

Once at the bar, he would ask the stranger, "Thank you in advance, by the way. My name is L— Henrik. Henrik Kirch." He probably should have practiced in the mirror earlier. "I'm an upstart, but we're both here so anyone can easily presume what either of us do isn't entirely on the up-and-up. Having said that, might I ask what business you'd have of me before I start sipping?" Lawrence's eyes shifted up and down the drink provider, trying to clean a proper hint to who he might be dealing with. Of course, there was no actual way he'd be able to tell without a name, since the person in front of him was just as uninvited as he was.

[Sam]

The man seemed a tad nervous in Iago's eyes on the matter of accepting a drink. Perhaps the fox had come in a bit too strong but it was an honest means of apologizing to him. That said this was an underworld party, one couldn't be too careful in places such as these.

"Follow me, señor."

Iago blurted out before leading the way to the bar. He wasn't sure what to get... he was more of a wine man but that was hardly sport in a place like this. Perhaps a cocktail of sorts? Maybe the house special. He'd figure it out. Whatever the case he needed to make the choice right then and there especially since the bar tender had come forth. Maybe he should have that drink he had on Cinna Island about two years ago...

"One Mama Juana, por favor."

The bar tender gave a nod and turned to Henrik for his order. Was done he'd leave to prepare their drinks leaving the two men to themselves. It was at that moment that his drinking partner gave his introduction, alebiet a bit choppy.

"Well met, Señor Henrik, I'm Kogetsu Denpachi, but you can just call me Denpachi if you so please."

Iago got comfortable in his chair, acting was surprisingly easy for him. Having infiltrated many cesspools in the past he'd gotten a bit too good at lying to survive. He had to anything to find the man he was looking for.

"Me? I'm looking for an old business partner señor. He owes me something."

The vulpine man grinned under his mask, this wasn't far from the truth. His golden eyes looked at Henrik through the mask squinting at the man.

"Plus I can buy something for my beloved wife while I'm here ehehehe. How about yourself? Señor?"

---

Iago | Saffron #F4C430 | (Post Count: 3)

[Burgundy]

Lawrence found himself following a vulpine-masked somebody across the party floor, unsure of how to break away politely in this case. He was used to being considered uninteresting at such events, whensoever he even got in. Holding a person's attention was for more charismatic people, he believed, all he could offer was a sales pitch. Except he was at a party and all he sold was a laundering service.

He made an attempt to retain his composure even as he introduced himself. The fox-masked partygoer ordered a drink and then introduced himself as Kogetsu Denpachi, but Denpachi worked for short. "Denpachi then," Lawrence would say.

He coaxed whatever manner of story his bar partner for the evening was willing to spin him, and had the question turned back on himself. Of course, this much he was ready for, as he didn't really need to lie. "I'm also looking for business partners, though future ones, not past. There's a web of connections thicker than Arachne's den in here, and I'm looking to get caught in it and spin some threads of my own. I've also seen a bit of success lately so I might spoil myself and buy something on the auction," he would reply in a manner that conveyed neither comfort nor fear.

Of course, stone-faced wasn't a good look either, but it was best to remain consistent at a time like this.

When the drink hit the counter, he would look at it. In a glass was a wine-red liquid, poured into a small shot glass. Not exactly a sipping drink though in this lighting it somewhat resembled tea. Lawrence presumed the alcohol content was sufficient to warrant a small portion like this. As the drink was ordered for him, he took the initiative, lifting the drink up and nodding at Denpachi affirmatively. With a single motion he knocked it back, not swallowing too quickly, but not letting it linger long enough to chemically burn the tastebuds off, the tried and true art of the office worker.

As far as taste went, it was painfully sweet, like sugar on honey. Probably one part rum and mead with wine for color and just a hint of any other flavor. It wasn't the sort of drink to over-act to. Setting the shot glass down gently, he would simply humm thoughtfully as he considered it in full. A fairly dangerous drink, the alcohol flavor was overpowered by the sweet components more or less, but not as dangerous as many fruity cocktails were known to be.

"Pretty good, never had this particular drink before," he commented, giving some substance to the interaction. He considered complaining about the portion size, but he wound up rationalizing it in his mind as 'probably just to make the bottle stretch the night' or perhaps even just a standard serving.

"The auction should be starting fairly soon, I think. What are the odds you'll bump into your old partner before it does?" the ruby-masked salaryman would ask, loosening his shoulders a bit.

[Sam]

The vulpine man pondered for a moment. Of course the man was looking for something to buy too. Iago was looking to do the same in fact part of his lead was the fact one of his Father's swords the lesser of the twin blades, Colada was being sold at the auction. He had known for a while that such a blade had been bestowed to a man named Guiscard by his father's murderer.

If such was the case then Guiscard himself had to be around here. It only made sense too as that man was said to operate in these waters. The Silver Tyrant of the Moon, his name was often spoke in criminal circles around Pucci. Iago took a sip of his drink slightly tilting hia mask to make sure his face was completely obscured. It was a bit awkward but he didn't exactly want to be exposed as a mink in such a place. They'd probably try to sell him out on Sabaody if they caught him.

"Hm? The drink? I see señor, its Mama Juana it's common in the South Blue. I had it while on a short trip there."

He replied gleefully, those were the days... of exploring the four blues gaining mastery over various forms of swordsmanship studying under different masters and yet. He felt like he had much to learn. But he needed all that training. His dedication would bare fruit that was for certain. After all he needed to be the best he could if he was to beat that man and after that he needed to be the best if he was to become greatest.

"I actually have something I have my eye on for myself, señor. Although I'm uncertain yet."

Iago reached into his coat and pulled out the catalogue of items, he flipped through the pages with his dexterous paws until he landed on just the right page. There it was, Colada a finely crafted blade a Ryo Wazamono rapier with a flamberge design. Its flame-like blade had a silvery sheen on it like no other. That was the quality of odelt steel. It was durable and said to never tarnish.

"This blade... it intrigues me."

He chuckled leaning forward on the table to rest his arm. It would seem Henrik was following his train of thought as he promptly asked about finding his old partner.

"I have reason to believe my old partner was the one to set it up for auction. He was the last man to hold it. But I'm unsure if it's too much of a gamble? Maybe the sword moved to different hands."

---

Iago | Saffron #F4C430 | (Post Count: 4)

[Burgundy]

Lawrence would look over the fox-masked individual's shoulder as he pulled out an auction catalogue, watching the pages flutter by briskly. Yet it wasn't briskly enough that the ruby-masked salaryman didn't catch view of a particular item that he might have also liked to investigate — Some manner of blueprints depicting a ship, it looked like. As a businessman it would have done him some good to have a serviceable sailing vessel, especially on the Grand Line.

Of course, the details were quickly flipped away, as Denpachi turned through pages, ending on a fancy sword of some sort. When growing up desperate for money, the last thing on his mind was extraneous things, like artifacts and hobbies. Any interest he had in this kind of trivium died when...

"Hm... Is your beloved wife some manner of sword ethusiast? It's pretty ornate-looking, would look good in a collection, probably," he would speculate idly, dispelling his past from his mind. Of course, this vulpine acquaintance of his also mentioned that this sword was in possession of his old partner or something. Was his wife envious of this sword?

None of that really mattered, though. People were as varied as the fish in the sea, so he couldn't judge based on taste alone – not that he of anybody in the Grand Line had the right to judge in the first place.

Lawrence leaned back against the bar and thought about things for a moment, letting his eyes drift across the many partygoers attending the masquerade. "Well there's a whole lot of folks attending, so who knows? Even if you saw him, it's a masquerade, so he'd probably just be in disguise, huh? No guarantee you'd recognize him," he'd say in a deadpan manner, pointing at the thoroughly masked individuals while looking back at Denpachi.

[Sam]

“Mi esposa? My wife?”

Iago chuckled before taking another sip of his drink. He tilted his head at Henrik with his remark.

“Si Señor, she is the finest lady. Very respectful and diligent. But with odd interests.”

It was all part of an act but Iago was in a way describing his ideal woman. Someone with a degree of poise to her but with quirky interests. What were those interests? Didn’t matter. Could be swords or food or what have you.

“Mm? Perhaps I’ll miss my former partner? But he has some peculiarities to him that may also give him away. Or perhaps he’ll present himself to me. I couldn’t tell you, amigo. He is an eccentric man and hard to predict ehehehe.”

Tapping the table Iago looked down at his watch. Henrik was right, there was a chance this whole ordeal could be a dud. But he needed every little chance of finding Guiscard he could get and it seemed this would be his best bet for a while.

“I do wish I had a vivre card. I'll tell you that much.”
 
He finally remarked, sipping the last of his drink and standing up. Iago extended his gloved paw to Henrik intent on shaking the ruby-masked fellow’s hand.

“Well, its almost time for the auction. It was a pleasure Henrik.”

Once they parted it would only be two or three more minutes once the auction began. The stage of the ball began to light up with white and purple lights as an eccentric man with an orange afro got on stage. He had a pair of dashing shades and a typical stage smile. Behind him a purple-haired woman in a black sparkly dress which revealed her leg carted a strange chartreuse fruit on stage.

“Shimamamama! Welcome guests! We’ll be starting the annual auction right now so get ready and remain seated!”

The eccentric figure walked across the stage swaying in a dance-like motion. He waved his hand in front of the strange fruit and gave the audience who by now was all seated a bright over the top smile. The crowd of masked rogues simply watched the fruit curiously, Iago among them. Was this a Devil Fruit? It couldn’t be right?

“The first item on our roster is an unknown Devil Fruit! Bidding starts at 100,000,000 beri! Start your bids!”

---

Iago | Saffron #F4C430 | (Post Count: 5)

[Burgundy]

This Denpachi fellow certainly seemed to be a loving guy, talking about his wife in such romantic terms despite her not being present. Of course, not being able to see the man's face beyond the fox mask just lead to Lawrence picturing a happily married couple of masquerade foxes and their fox masquerade babies.

"She certainly sounds lovely," he'd reply affirmatively in small talk fashion. As the conversation progressed somewhat, all he really learned of this guy's old partner was that he was a quirky fellow who may simply give himself away, though of course, he got nothing more about the man. Not that 'Henrik Kirch' would be sticking his neck out for exotic foxes at a black market auction. Not without a few more drinks in him anyways.

"Vivre card, huh? I'll let you know if I meet anybody who may deal in such things," Lawrence replied semi-casually.

The auction's time was near, though, so their conversation needed to end. "It was a pleasure, Denpachi. I look forward to watching the bidding wars," the masked salaryman would reply, taking the offered handshake. His grip was firm, business-like, but inaggressive, and the shake was resolute.

As the two parted ways, the events of the Masquerade droned on for a mere few minutes before the curtains on the auction stage parted and the orange-fro'd auctioneer and his sultry assistant made their entrance with a laugh, carting something notable from back stage.

He'd only seen this once before, and even then the one he'd seen had seen prior to this was chopped up into a dish format, yet he could feel the same malice emanating from it. No, perhaps that feeling was simply him projecting again. He tensed up nonetheless, his eyes locking on that accursed fruit.

An Unknown Devil Fruit, being sold at 100,000,000 Beri. Lawrence was fairly well-off thanks to his laundering and fencing business, but that number as the bare minimum made him shudder.

The bids went up one after the other.

"100 million!"
"120 million!"
"150!"
"200!"
"300 million!"

Within a few bids the price had already tripled. Lawrence was disgusted by these people voluntarily throwing away huge amounts of capital over what was essentially a roulette game with potential superpowers. Were these guys going to do the same thing his old boss did, or challenge fate themselves? He'd honestly respect the latter more, but in this world the penalties were far too steep.

"Fools..." he would mutter with no target audience, no context. He turned to the bar and ordered himself a glass of whiskey. Ice on the side.

[Sam]

Iago didn't expect them to unveil a thing of such value first. But perhaps this was some sort of strategy to get the people excited. Opening up with something big and then going small to give them a taste of the grander things to come. If they opened with something of this magnitude what else could they have in store? It didn't take long before people began to bid on the Devil Fruit something that amused the Mink.

He'd encountered fruit users in the past and many of them shared something in common. They all had unintentionally or unwillingly taken up the curse... to see all these people bid? Well, it almost seemed like they wanted to partake of it willingly. What was worse... was that this fruit was unknown. Its power had yet to be recorded so it was a gamble. What if you got something useless? Or worse got a dud?

"100 million!"
"120 million!"
"150!"
"200!"
"300 million!"

Hands went up and down bidding left and right. It was madness, willing to pay that much... money that Iago could never imagine in front of him. It seemed like the fruit would go to the final bidder. A man wearing a white and red kabuki mask clad in a fine black silken kimono. Finally, one hand rose.

"I offer 750 million beri."

The man said, he was an oddity wearing a long black suit with a mustard yellow shirt underneath. His mask was black and that of a raven but over it, he wore a bird's cage. There was a murmur among the crowd as the money was offered. Almost a billion beri for a random fruit? Even the flame-afro'd host was taken by surprise as he adjusted his sunglasses and a bead of cold sweat dripped down his forehead.

"W-well that's a lot... anyone else got more?"

The host stuttered and the crowd remained silent in response as they all made space for the raven masked man. After a solid minute that felt like a century due to the tension, the devilish fruit was sold. Iago shook his head in mild disappointment.

"Well... umm... sold! To the gentleman in the raven's mask."

With that the sultry woman carted the fruit away backstage where it would the merchandise would be held until the end of the auction.

"Right, with that out of the way our next item on the docket is a five-hundred-year-old painting of Saint Loux! A Celestial Dragon from centuries ago! It was painted by the legendary West Blue artist Salazar Grão!"

Carted on stage was an oil painting of a grey-haired man with thin lips and pale skin. He wore what seemed like a militant's outfit with a series of badges on it. This was a stolen painting... no way around it... one the World Government would definitely want their hands on too if they could.

"Bidding starts at 45 million Beri! Shimamama!"

---

Iago | Saffron #F4C430 | (Post Count: 6)
Host Shimon | Orange #FA8128
Raven Masked Man | Chartreuse #7FFF00

[Burgundy]

The bidding wars were burning up the track, it seemed until the appearance of a high-roller shut down all competition with a bid so high they must have been expecting this fruit to be a Logia type. Lawrence took a sip of whiskey as the crowd stood in stunned silence, and the auctioneer meekly accepted the now sevenfold price tag.

With little ceremony the auction rolled to the next item, which was a painting of a Celestial Dragon – one of considerable historical significance at that. The ruby-masked partygoer would stroke his chin for a moment, thinking about the implications, before shaking his head. Indeed this was the sort of item that went to auction. In fact, this place was the mother of all illicitly-earned goods fences, with a plethora of interested buyers. However, there were only two sorts of people who wanted this particular piece of merchandise. Government dogs infiltrating the event, and madmen who wanted this painting for some sick, unknowable satisfaction.

Nonetheless, a handful of bids came out of the woodwork. It was certainly not the mad fervor some of these crazy people were willing to put in for a Devil Fruit, ironically-enough. Seemed to be that the Celestial Dragons were ultimately still hated by the populous. At least in comparison to 'random superpower and never swimming again', which felt like a solid social statement to the suited sailor.

A small ice sphere dropped into his glass before he lifted it once more, swirling it a bit to spread the coolness and took another sip. Lawrence was a man of refined taste when it came to his whiskey. Many people ordered it neat or on the rocks, but when he ordered his ice on the side, he was signing up for every level of the flavor. Every few degrees of temperature difference was enough to change the experience, even if slightly, but each delicate change was like tuning an instrument – there was a perfect temperature for every brand and vintage, and a perfect brand and vintage for every event.

By the time he was paying attention to the event again, there was a slight bidding war on the painting, likely just an audience plant to drive the price up, but thanks to the effort and the dedication of whoever seemed to be willing to buy it, the price was up into the nonuple-digits at least, but even that much didn't seem to be going quickly.

Eventually the painting sold for 115 million, to a man in a white suit and sunglasses, which was an impressive sum, yet the Devil Fruit immediately preceding it made it feel paltry by comparison. Somebody made off like a bandit with a precious historical relic. They could do so in no better company, presumably.