The young mercenary nearly died choking on his drink again from shock as he spotted another round coming their way and a few of the staff preparing to serve a meal after the stranger, or Enoch gave them a few hand signals. He pounded on his chest a few times to aid in his struggle and looked at Enoch with grin and a raised eyebrow. "Mate, I know lots of methods people use to kill others, but I've never heard of someone actually killing another with kindness. Keep surprising me and I'll choke to death on my first day in London," he laughed and downed the last bit of his drink. He glanced around the establishment as he placed his empty glass onto the table and mentally cringed from the odd looks a few close by patrons were giving him. If Hannah were here he'd be getting an earful. He shook his head and leaned onto the table with his elbows as he made eye contact with Enoch.

"Though I do gotta ask, why so generous to a stranger? The goodness outta your heart, or do ya want something from me?" he asked with the same smile, but a hint of seriousness in his voice. "Either way is fine with me, but I'd rather handle business straightforward, less a hassle that way," he said before falling back into his seat. "Hope ya don't find my curiosity rude, it's a habit of mine," he chuckled as the second round of drinks arrived.

@Magister

The scholarly-looking gentleman sat, completely oblivious, to the little pickpocket sizing him up. The man scribbled away with his quill, the soft scratching noise of the quill on parchment only audible over the sound of the room because Elias was so close to him. He subconsciously rubbed his fingers on his right hand against his thumb, almost willing his little palms to start sweating, as if his hands knew the extra slipperiness might help get his hand in and out before he could be detected.

All of this happened in a fraction of a moment. Elias, though young, was a professional. He knew he couldn't linger long without drawing undue attention. Finally seeing his opening, his little hand shot out, fingers scrunched together to decrease the likelihood his hand would be felt in the man's coat pocket...

And, equally as fast, another hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. Shocked, Elias turned to see the woman that the Red Woman was talking to. "Hello there," she said, calmly, politely. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a quick word with you."

Elias was stunned, and didn't know what to say. He tried to pull away, but the woman's grip was firm. He knew her request wasn't so much a request as it was a demand. How did she know what he was up to? When had she spotted him? When he reached into the Red Woman's purse? How did she sneak up on him? And, how did he let himself get so complacent that he didn't notice her following him to begin with?

His mind reeling, he followed the lady as she dragged his arm after her. Why did she just grab his wrist, why didn't she warn the man what he was going to do, did she know? Or was she just a concerned grown-up wondering why a youth was in the pub?

"Ma'am," he said, his voice shaking from the adrenaline rush of getting caught, "where are you taking me? I gotta let my da know you want to talk to me," he motioned back towards the scholar by tilting his head in the man's direction. As soon as he said the lie, he knew she would see right through it. A filthy street kid like him would never be the son of a gentleman, at least he wouldn't be out in public looking the way he did. His cheeks blushed at the realization of his poorly thought out lie.

Resigned to his fate, he bowed his head and let the woman lead.

A lad such as this, he expected no less than brass tacks to measure what their conversation was about. The truth was complicated, and not easily explained without perhaps, baring a small part of himself to Jefferey, which wasn't something the older male was quite willing to do. His intentions weren't nefarious, but the wariness the traveling mercenary expressed, however lighthearted, was more than expected. Any person with a season under their belt would ask the same from his perspective. One group aside, from what he understood. The religious had a culture of simply accepting succor as divinely inspired, which mattered little to Montana either way. It was a simple observation.

"By virtue of you sitting across from me." He responded. An air of good humor surrounded him, but was kept somewhat at bay by his serious demeanor. "It would be unbecoming of me to order food and drink, and enjoy them in front of a road weary traveler."

He took another long drink from his glass, finally finishing it.

"Such is my nature. Conversation is perhaps all I want, To answer your question? No, I do not have any business with you at this time Jeffery."

"Unless you have anything you'd like to ask."

Jeffery simply grinned at Enoch as he grabbed his new beverage and chuckled. "Well Enoch, I guess I owe ya one in the future. Anytime ya need a hired gun I'm your man. Free of charge!" he declared and drank his beverage with glee. As he gulped down a wave into his gullet he spotted out of the corner of his eye a black haired lady dragging along a defeated looking little boy. The kid looked like a common street urchin, but a smile came to Jefferies lips as he placed his drink onto the table and tapped the table to get the attention of Enoch. "Hey, mate I'm about to pull something so just go along with it, eh?" he whispered loud enough for him to hear and exited the booth. Now looking at it he should have waited for his reply, but Jeffery was already gone. He cleared his throat and began his approach towards the two. Before the woman dragging the boy could get far Jeffery stepped out in front of her with a kind, well masked smile.

"Hello there, sorry to just drop in like this but I believe you have something of mine," he chuckled before glancing down at the boy. "He's my little brother and I had to bring him along to a business transaction with a new client of mine," he said gesturing towards Enoch. "Strange I know, I shouldn't have brought him, but the boy has been bothering me about taking him along. Sadly I was mistaken to bring him," he mumbled while casting his fake anger towards the boy. He shook his head and looked back to the woman with an apologetic smile. "Do hope you can just let this go. I'll make sure he don't leave that booth for the entire evening," he promised snd felt his smile widened. He wasn't the best actor, but being able to tell lies was required for his line of work. He just hoped the boy would go with it and that the black haired woman wouldn't figure out his lies. If worse comes to worse he can just flash his pistol to pull the intimidation card.

@Magister @Rig @EchoicChamber

The boy was visibly alarmed by the sudden grip around his hand, protesting and attempting to squirm his way to freedom as Dawn led him towards the entrance. However, while Dawn wasn’t exactly the strongest out there, the child’s slight and scrawny build worked against him. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, so long as Dawn’s hand remained steady. “You’re welcome to call over to him if you’d like,” she smiled. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions. After that, you’re free to go. On my honor.” She rested a light hand- her free one, of course- over her heart, eyes surprisingly soft despite the circumstances. While the child’s fingers seemed to be awfully sticky, he was still a child, and London offered little kindness to the youths that wandered its streets. The least Dawn could do was try to assure the boy that she meant no harm.

Before she could take the child any further, however, one of the bar patrons had waltzed over. He was claiming that the boy, the young man, with his dirt-crusted face and tattered clothes, was his brother. He, who seemed well-fed, and who was armed to the teeth with weaponry that even Dawn couldn’t help but admire, was claiming that he had brought the child along to the bar, and was apologizing for his behavior.

While the detective was naturally composed and collected in the best of times, she couldn’t help the spark of amusement that flit across her face.

“Is that so?” Dawn looked coolly into the man’s eyes. “Well, I apologize for pulling your brother away so suddenly, sir. It’s, ah, just that I caught sight of him behind my companion earlier, and I was concerned that he might have taken something of hers without her notice. I’m sure you know how common pickpockets are, and, well, better safe than sorry, I think.” She gave a charming smile, as if trying to make up for such a frightful misunderstanding.

“I only wanted to speak to him for a moment and ask to see what he had on him. Buy him something to eat after. For his troubles. I have to admit that I was a bit worried about how hungry your brother seemed.” At that, Dawn gave the man another glance over, then the child. She paused for a minute. Her brow creased, then settled.

“And, ah. I hope you don’t mind, sir, but I have to say that your father looks quite youthful. How old is he, if I may ask?” A gesture towards the man they had left behind at the table, still furiously scribbling away.

Dawn’s face remained the perfect picture of a friendly, if not somewhat oblivious, citizen.

@Joker892@Rig@Sir Knight

Reinol watched the encounter with a curious eye. Oh, this looks good. Perhaps this may serve as material for another story.

Wait...did someone just say he was a father?

@EchoicChamber @Rig @Joker892

Jeffery raised an eyebrow and slightly leaned over to see who their "father" was. He scoffed and shook his head with an amused smile as he looked back to the woman. No way that was his dad, little bugger gave a sad excuse for a fib and now Jeffery had to make up a better one on the spot. "I see he pulled the old 'that's my dad' trick again. He has a nasty habit of lying, especially when he's been caught. Though I guess when he saw a pretty woman such as yourself he slipped up," he chuckled with a sly smirk. Hey, a bit of flattering never hurts when trying to lie your way out of a jam. Though he had to admit, she wasn't half bad. She had the looks, but she probably wasn't his type. He sighed and shook his head.

"Look, the truth is our folks ain't around no more. Tragic accident, rather not go into details, very messy. Anyway, thanks for offering him some food, but my client over there is actually buying us a meal. Nice fellow don't ya think?" he asked as he gently pulled the boy out of her grasp and glanced at him with a stern look. "Alright dear troublesome brother, give up what ya took and head over towards the booth and wait for me. You run off again and I'll make you wish this beautiful young lass had taken you, understand?" he finished with a smile as he caught site of the food being brought to their table. He gestured towards the food with his head and chuckled. "A fresh warm meal is waiting for you, so don't let it get cold," he said, hoping that the food could convince him to play along. He glanced back to the woman and kept his smile strong.

@EchoicChamber@Rig

Montana had simply nodded and raised his glass a little higher in response to Jeffery's promise of aid in the future. While some people were filled with empty promise, this lad had a rather genuine quality to his personality, one that Montana appreciated, but also understood might land him into some trouble on London's streets. He doubted the young mercenary was unaware of the trouble such principles could bring, as it was a trait that had likely followed him since birth. Principles weren't things one had for convenience after all.

Just after Montana held this thought in his mind, he saw Jeffery notice the situation he had been watching with some interest for the past few minutes, and those same principles no doubt dictated that he get involved.

If his face wasn't such a mask of serenity, he might have blinked a few times at his request. 'Just go along with it', well, Montana had no one to blame but himself in his mind. He chose this table for it's proximity to the woman in red, who was without a doubt the most powerful creature within this room, and likely the surrounding area. That would mean should the person opposite turn around, he too would share the same view he did. Ah well.

Plausible deniability was the name of the game, but that allowed him to offer some help to the young merc, for one, he'd continue watching the situation, as that seemed like what a client would do, but as a client, it would be against character to get directly involved.

The woman however, with the soft grey eyes was the one to be wary during this little bit of theater. She was perceptive enough to notice the woman's bag had been looted, and he doubted her perception ended with catching skilled street urchins. Ultimately, the boy leaving peacefully would be decided with her. She would figure the story out for unlikely, but choose if she wished to take it further, or settle with returning the stolen goods.

However the third, and most dangerous player in this little game was that crimson woman. If the perspective one let them go, she still had the ability to act.

The courier idly sipped his drink, his dark eyes seemed more focused than before.

The Technician cast her gaze downward.

Possibly.

She seemed to lower her head for a moment when the subject of her name came up.

"Have you ever heard the old surface stories about how knowing someone's name can give you...some degree of power over them?" she asked, after a moment.
"I think perhaps the opposite is true. If you take someone's name away, you gain control of them in some way. How does someone know who they are if not what they call themselves?"

She cleared her throat, brushing off the moment of wistfulness.

"Regardless. I am heading north, though I'm not inclined to ask for help. I'm not in the habit of relying on others. I feel that placing too much trust in the motives of others... it tends to get you into trouble. "

Perhaps it was this individual's pleasant disposition that set her a little bit on edge. It was, maybe a bit too reminiscent. There were none of the signs of course. It just unearthed some unpleasant memories.

---

Meanwhile, a girl appeared on the man going by 'Enoch's' table.

That was, she had not approached the table. Nor had she come to stand or sit at it. What had, one moment been a clean tabletop with some glasses and cutlery turned to clattering and chaos as a young woman materialised from thin air a few inches above its surface before hitting it with a crash.

She lay there, supine for a few moments, a half-lidded, dreamy expression on her youthful features.

Indeed she was a relatively young woman, and well-dressed to a degree that indicated she was clearly not short of money...even if she was perhaps lacking in judgement with how best to spend it, as few of the garments she was wearing seemed to match in colour, particularly against her vivid, ginger hair, which at that moment sprawled out around her like a stranded zee creature.

After the brief, but doubtlessly awkward pause, she blinked several times, spun up to a sitting position, and regarded the chaos around her before stifling a small laugh.
"Oh sir, dreadfully sorry...I think I must have overshot a little."

The man was a quick thinker, Dawn couldn’t deny that. His explanations for his “brother’s” lies were reasonable enough, and he seemed genuinely protective over the child, for all it was worth. The flattery was a nice touch, although Dawn had run into her fair share of men and women alike who had tried to butter their way out of a pitch that the effect was lost on her. She smiled regardless, eyes glittering like stones in her hat’s shadow.

“It’s a habit that he’ll likely need help breaking out of, then. I’ve found that the more someone lies, the better they get at it. He might end up digging himself into a hole he won’t be able to get out of so easily one day.” She let the man take the young pickpocket without comment, but made no move to leave. Dawn had no intention of returning to her table until the urchin was relieved of his stolen goods.

“Well, your client is certainly a kind man. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

A pause.

“Take care of him. It’s a hard life for children down here.”

Even if the man wasn’t the boy’s brother, it would be good for the little one to get something to eat, at the very least. While the stranger’s lies were well thought out for how swiftly he had come up with them, the child’s skinniness was particularly noticeable in the face of his study build, among other things. However, at the sound of a sudden crash, Dawn found herself turning away from the man- right towards the table he had been gesturing at, where a woman now lay, smiling dreamily at the ceiling as if she wasn’t currently surrounded by shattered dinnerware.

Spiced wine gurgled onto the floor.

Whatever “fresh, warm meal” had been awaiting them, it had quite unfortunately been cut short.

The red-headed woman’s sudden appearance wasn’t overly surprising. When one had spent their life in the Neath, seeing random passerby pop in and out of honey dreams was as commonplace as the passerby themselves. However, most dreamers didn’t reappear on anything that wasn’t a flat surface- and certainly not in a manner to make such a loud clamor. It was bizarre, to say the least, and it left a large possibility of the woman being injured without even realizing yet. Giving a glance towards man and child alike to indicate that they weren’t in the clear, Dawn made her way over to the table, giving an apologetic look to its current occupant before turning her attention to the lady sitting among the wreckage.

“Are you alright, madam?” She asked. “That was quite the entrance you had, there.”

@VitoftheVoid@Magister@Joker892@Rig

---

“I’ll admit to hearing it in passing, yes,” Madison replied. Some of the cheer had gone out of him now, replaced by a certain sobriety that didn’t seem to quite fit the man. The woman was holding all her cards close to her chest, but whatever what was on them, there was little chance of it being anything good. Even her name seemed to be a topic that she had no desire to breach- or, even more concerning, something that she possibly couldn’t. Regardless, Madison found himself straining to read the woman’s expression behind those irrigo shades, even as he felt the faintest hazing of his memory as he gazed into them.

“I’m sure that having a stranger try and offer you assistance out of the blue must be incredibly suspicious, miss, so I don’t blame you for not wanting to take it. Especially what with the Oblivion you have there.” Madison gestured absently at the bottle, then rested his hands in their former position onto the table. “And whatever it is that you’re trying to find out North, I do hope that you find it.” He tapped his nails on the table beneath, drumming out an irregular rhythm.

“However, would it be alright if I bought you something to eat, before you leave? Coffee, maybe? I’d feel terrible letting you leave without doing anything to help you out, although I suppose that’s a bit selfish of me.” Madison gave the woman a sheepish smile, before casting a glance over his shoulder at the sharp clattering behind him.

A woman. Honey-dreamer, if the sudden appearance was any indication. Although most didn’t appear so violently.

“Odd,” he murmured.

@VitoftheVoid

Reinol stood up and began to walk towards Dawn, face etched into a small frown. His parchment was clutched loosely in his hand the ink telling a tale of rain and sorrow.

'Excuse me, madam.' He began as he adjusted his tie. 'But I believe that I have heard a snippet of information that revealed me as a father, which I assure you, I am not.'

A quick response was necessary. For all he could know, this might be another attempt to slander his reputation. And that was bad for a Bohemian like himself.

@EchoicChamber

He didn't yell in surprise, and perhaps that was the strangest bit about his reaction. The effects of the sweetness were common indeed, the popularity of honey had done well to bring it, and its users into the familiarity of every day life in London. That did not however, detract from the fact that a person had materialized inches from Montana, and inevitably, onto his table. The couriers eyes had gone wide, pushing his eyebrows into a surprised expression that ended below the nose, where his mouth remained in its stoic line.

Something had slipped into his hand when she appeared. It was reflex more than anything else. Within second plus a beat he had studied her person. Her clothes, as brash as they were together, were well tailored, with the material boasting a thread count that exceeded what the average person could, or would care to afford. A noble of some measure or kind. This was deduced rather quickly, which lead to the something being put away.

Her sudden appearance had done more than startle him, she had gotten the attention of the entire room, which had, much to his displeasure, put him as the side act to her attention.

Montana placed his finger on the puddle of drink left behind by her descent, and lifted it slowly. He brought the finger to his lips, where he briefly tasted the small bit that had collected on his digit.

The woman who discerned the boys intention had come around to, her eyes offered an apology, and in response, he gave a small. slightly askew head nod.

"It seems you overshot into my, and my potential employees food." His voice was evenly toned.

"and the dinner choice you've given us afterward is hardly sufficient." He concluded, referencing her proximity to his plate.

London is most becoming when the fog is thickest. It is much easier to see clearly without the buildings and people cluttering up you vision. Tonight a beggar walks the streets of Veilgarden clad head to toe in the aged garb of a fine Zea Captain. A brimmed black hat with the image of an eye sewn on the front, coat of navy blue down to the knees and shiny black boots. She would wear the clothes of a beggar as she is no longer a Captain, but nowhere in London sells "beggar uniforms" so she doesn't know what they look like.

With fingers laced behind her back and shoulders hunched, she trotts and gallops through these familiar streets, singing in the gentlest of tones:

"As the souls of the dead fill the space of my mind
I'll search without sleeping, 'til peace I can find.
I fear not the weather, I fear not the zea.
I remember the fallen, do they think of me
When my bones in the ocean, forever will be?"

She prances playfully, passing and gracing every manner of artist, scoundrel, lover and orphan with her zongs of the zea. When her trotting brings her past the doorstep of The Singing Mandrake just in time to hear a loud crash, the shivering of glasses, and the exchanging of apologies. The beggar ponders aloud,

"The Singing Mandrake always has a lad of ambition willing to part with an echo or two, for a tale or three; and from the sound of things, something interesting just happened inside!"

Now with anticipation she enters with an assertive stance and scans the room taking note of the populated turnout of the night. She notices a woman lying on a table speaking with the man seated there.

"Curious," she said, "I did not know the Singing Mandrake as place to eat people; and it appears you even get the luxury of speaking with your dish. I hope that man has more guests on the way, I doubt he could finish the whole thing alone."

Realizing she has been speaking at an audible level this whole time, she slaps her palm across her mouth and continued speaking until the thought was done. She turns to take a table near the stage, unaware of any attention her nonsensical monologue may have drawn.