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[@Stitches] 


“Fa you ‘un the lil girl?” The worked asked, scratching at the stubble on his thick jaw “Yeah, I think I gots somethin’.” 


The worker paused for a second, taking a drag from the cigarette he held in between his fingers, whilst a slender thread of smoke trickled back over his shoulder.


“The donna sent this pretty-faced boy out to do a job fer her, ‘un he ain’t come back. Some secret mission above my pay grade, but we need ta’ know what he’s up to, ya dig? Tallish fella, straight, dark hair, and a big coat. The Donna sent him to snoop about the Imperial. If you can fish ‘im up fer us, I’d say there’s a solid 200 caps waitin’ for ya.” 


[hr] 


[@Leidenschaft] [@Kingslee]


“Mancini’s expecting you, Redding,” the doorman grumbled “Didn’t say anythin’ about no soldier boy comin’ with, though.” 


Nevertheless, the doorman let them past, moving to one side so that the pair could make their way into the apartment. 


Mancini himself was sitting in a wooden chair, one leg fidgeting like crazy, as he inhaled a mouthful of jet.


Slumped up against the wall behind him, was what looked like a young girl; unconscious, with a bag over her head, and her arms bound by rope. 


“Schmidt, thank fuck you’re here.” he exclaimed, as they stepped inside, his wiry body jolting upright. “Who's ya friend?” 


His forehead was caked with sweat, and his eyes were wide and bloodshot.


“Have I got a deal for you!” He exclaimed “a F-I-N-E piece of arse, right here.” 


Mancini gave the unconscious girl’s body a little nudge with his foot. 


“I hear you lost a girl, and was thinkin’ you’d be wantin’ to restock your goods, no? I’m sure we can work somethin’ out.”