Daisuke paced calmly throughout the lower hallways of the Ocean Liner, nodding politely to those he happened to pass. He moved with purpose, spoke none and continued to move forward. No one stepped forth to bother him.
So he progressed lower and lower, ensuring he moved through every hall on each floor. It wasn't a foolproof plan to find Engineer Selvin, but it would ingrain the ships layout into his memory. When he finally did come across the man in question, when they finally did put their plan into motion, he would know precisely where to go, no matter the scenario.
To know one's surroundings, that was the task of a fist. But Diasuke was the fist of Souma Takahiro, nothing less than perfect knowledge could be allowed.
Slowly, the large, sharp-dressed man moved another level down, and paced yet another hallway.
~-~-~
If Goemon noticed the Baronessa as she and her elderly companion passed by -or noticed the nod she made at his own passing- the slender man made no sign. He continued along his way, striding calmly along, eyes locked upon some sight far in the distance. It was as though his mind was far away, lost in memories of his homeland, perhaps, brought back from being upon the waves once more.
He certainly meant no disrespect towards Miss Demidova, his attentions simply appeared to be elsewhere. The fact that he was acutely aware of her passing was not something she needed to know.
The description matched perfectly, it was almost guaranteed she was the one he searched for, yet Goemon continued to stride away. He moved calmly along the upper levels, pausing only to catch the attention of a gossiping young pair just around the corner.
Oh yes, he was indeed from the east. Japan, to be exact, yes. Oh it was a lovely place, though not nearly as lovely as the sights here. Oh he was sorry, english was still a little foreign to him. Why thank you! Oh I did, foreign as well? Russian? Oh I've never met one of them before... A Baroness? My, that's very important, yes? Oh thank you for your help ladies. Oh? I would love to learn more, very much. You can? That would be very lovely. Later? Oh certainly, I look forward to it.
They ended their talk, and he continued along his way. Every so often, someone would catch his attention, or he'd find reason to speak to someone else. He charmed them, and they answered his naive questions or volunteered answers of their own. Each told him a little bit more, of the area, of his quarry, and of what to expect when everything finally began.
It was the task of a voice to learn what he could of and from the people he met. Of course, Goemon was the voice of Takahiro Souma, to whom no amount of knowledge could be considered sufficient.
Slowly, the slender, sharp-dressed man moved across yet another bustling room, and spoke to yet another series of eager people.
~-~-~
Never let it be said that Takahiro did no work of his own.
Having secured their positions on this vessel, having set up the 'job' with which to entice the elusive Baronessa, having secured the necessary assistance to transport the 'goods' they will acquire, he allowed himself some small leisure. And yet even here, upon the deck of the ship, with salt and wind and beckoning sky, he found himself at work once more.
His manner of dress caught quite a number of curious eyes, and the man who had spent much time ingratiating himself among the elite of the area was the focus of attention once more. He answered questions politely, responded to praise with due flattery, and smiled at the rising spirits he left each and every one of them in. He worked with efficiency, every conversation short, every introduction brief, the crowd dispersing behind him as he moved across the deck, even as it gathered just before.
All the while, as he walked and talked and took in the sights, his eyes roamed. They took in all there was to see on the deck of the ship, as they would the upper levels when it was time to flee the sun. His body felt the subtle heeling of the boat below as he moved, balance retained even with the required cane. He spoke gladly with those who approached, and looked over yet more of the deck around, all in preparation for what was to come.
Daisuke would know the lower levels. He would know how to best move Selvin up top, where to go so he avoided others, and when to strike so as not to raise alarm.
Goemon would know most of the guests and crew. He would know who might be susceptible to bribery or coercion, who might make for a scapegoat or could simply be made a distraction.
But Daisuke wouldn't have time to memorize all of the massive Liner, and Goemon could in no way learn of every person it held. So Takahiro spoke, listened and learned. So Takahiro watched, measured and memorized. He would know enough to fill the gaps left by his 'brothers', enough to accurately plan the next move, and to adapt should anything unexpected rise before them.
He was Takahiro Souma, heir to the group of smugglers, gamblers and racketeers that had managed to manipulate their way into the good graces of the noble elite back home. Goemon was his voice, Daisuke his fist, but Takahiro was the soul, the mind, the heart and blood and bone. He was the one who knew the rest, whenever the fist broke and bruised, whenever the voice cracked hoarse, he took the reins and led the way.
So for now he walked, watching and talking as he moved steadily along. The plan didn't begin yet, no, it wouldn't be until the crowds settled down for a decadent supper that he would make his move. It was then he would approach Galina Demidova, the one who had gotten the better of him before. And it was then, that his little revenge would truly start.