Driving a car through the streets of Fairstone City was about as dull as navigating traffic in any other city. There wasn't anything in particular that Steven liked about driving, to be frank; it was simply a necessity to learn how to do so if he wanted to get much of anywhere without relying on public transportation. He knew the roads well enough, at least, so it wasn't like he would accidentally get lost or anything, but if he had to pick between this and walking, the latter would usually be his preference.

Well, that was under normal circumstances, at least. The hulking beast of a man sitting in the back, of course, changed that dynamic from 'dull' to 'slightly nerve-wracking' all too easily. It wasn't the first time he had met Fremont; there were quite a few meetings between the both of them and Donovan (who was off handling another job at the moment), and his co-worker's ability to pull the truth from the ex-convict's lips made life far easier for Soulflame to confirm his intent to not decimate every person who he came across. That didn't mean, of course, that he was any less intimidating up close.

"Ahem. Well, Mr. Lundgren, have you finished reading through the papers I handed you earlier?" Steven asked, slowly bringing the car through the early morning rush hour traffic. "Despite working for Soulflame now, however unofficially, you are still technically being held under parole. That being said, as much as I'd prefer to not advocate breaking the law, well... Our job kind of necessitates it. Contact details of people who you might need to know, the location of a few minor bases across the city, your soon-to-be place of residence, and... Ways of dodging the long arm of the law if it becomes necessary. As much as I hate to admit it, our cover-up team works immaculately so long as you aren't being brazen in attacking people in broad daylight. Or, well, breaking the terms of the contract or your parole outside of jobs, but I'm sure you already knew that."

It felt somewhat wrong for Steven, as a prosecutor, to say that sort of thing—that breaking the law was not only allowed, but encouraged under the right circumstances. But if there were already people who were committing crimes outside of the law, then it was their duty to stop them. Or, at least, that's what he had been told. The papers he had handed over also had a lot more miscellaneous information, but he wouldn't go into detail about everything.

"In any case, it looks like we're going to be getting out of this traffic and nearing your new home sooner rather than later. If there's anything you want to ask about, then ask away."

In the backseat, Lundgren’s ears twitched, papers held loosely in an oversized hand. With his legs across the seat and his back pressed to the door, there was almost enough room for him in the back, but it was too tight. Clothes they gave were too tight, too. Made him tense. He picked at the ankle bracelet. A tracker. Another chain, different day.

Fremont grunted in the affirmative, a low growl from the back of his throat. Papers held a lotta good info, but nothing he hadn’t expected. He needed a little more, though. Fan didn’t seem like a bad man, but he acted soft. Didn’t mean much, but could be an issue down the line. Didn’t mean the lawyer didn’t know his shit. That courtroom felt like a fucking formality. Soulflame’s legal team was that damn good, or he was getting roped into a group with a little more pull than the old gangs. Either way, he was out of the slammer. Maybe the damn wolf would finally shut up.

The former inmate waited long enough for the pause to likely be uncomfortable for the driver, sharp eyes shifting to the reflection in the rearview before he responded. He'd been new to a system before, meant he had to establish his place quickly. They wanted a scary motherfucker, he had to act like it. “Few things.”

He moved to set the papers on the floor before leaning forward, steepling scarred fingers in front of a well-worn face. The car groaned, metal complaining at the shift in his weight. Good. “Who do we want dead? How long until I’m… fuck, deployed? Deployed. I haven’t cut loose in literally years. 'Sides, my teeth ache if I don't fight.” The ears twitched again, curling fangs shining through the open scar as he spoke. “I also want a gym membership and a library card. Nearest places to my pad would be good. Don’t have a vehicle. Last,” A scarred hand clapped over the back of the passenger seat’s headrest, pulling a face like a warzone into the gap between seats. Lundgren hadn’t blinked since the start of his speech, and his predator eyes rushed from the mirror to the driver’s actual face. He wasn’t close enough to be a threat, but close enough there wasn’t a difference between his space and the other contractor's. Lundgren’s expression was neutral, scanning the driver for any emotion. “We’re alone. I’m sick of dancing around it. Level with me, Fan. You're twitchy. Your people are pulling me out of literal prison for this. Nothing in these papers on who we’re fighting. Just how outgunned are we? We have other fighters. How many, who are they, and how soon can I meet them?"

Not for the first time recently, Chenlu could be found in a used bookstore, flicking through textbooks and short stories alike. Not that this was any old shop--it was one of Soulflame's bases, and thus about as safe a place as she could be. Maybe it was strange, but the pale girl found it much more comfortable somewhere that she knew she was being watched, and stuck as closely to their various locations as possible. It was probably the sort of thing Mao liked, too--not having to think that the girl he saved might get in trouble somewhere or lead a trail straight back to them with her looks.

As with the past few times she'd been in this shop, the Chinese girl had claimed a small table over in a corner, one now covered with piles of various random books. More fiction than nonfiction, though there were a few age-appropriate textbooks here and there, but nothing amongst those was particularly new to her. What was nearly as strange as the girl herself--the extremely long hair for one, but most definitely the ears and her colouration--was the audience that she was talking to, though given the language barrier it was rather hard to tell if it was praise or criticism for the story collection she was looking through.

Atop each of the various piles, there was a small white rabbit. Not your usual bookshop inhabitants.

Detective Lynch pulled up outside of the arrivals terminal of the Fairstone International Airport, drumming his fingers on the wheel of his borrowed car from the motor pool. This was a busy week for Soulflame. There was the Chinesae gangster and his charge on the run, now working with them. Today Steven Fan Drew the short straw, transporting ex convict Freemont Lundgren to a safe house.

So now Donovan was waiting at the airport for their other new member, on loan from another organization. He pulled up the file on his phone for Abigail Kelly, glancing again at the picture. As far as cars went, an unmarked police car wasn't bad but the push bar on the front and copious number of antenna's still stood out in a line or parked vehicles. He pulled the door open and got out to lean against the side of the car.

As usual, Mao went out to do his morning training, as well as the day's groceries, before the sun even went up. Even though he wasn't on the business anymore, the former hitman had a strict policy of keeping himself fit and ready for whatever harm might come at him and his current charge. After around two hours of jogging, workout, and martial arts practice, Mao finished his daily routine with a run to a small market that was part of the relatively closed community where Chenlu and he had settled, purchased some ingredients and went back home just to find that Chenlu wasn't there.

Obviously, the only other place where she could be was the nearest Soulflame headquarters. As soon as he was done with preparing their breakfast, Mao took his way there.

The smell of freshly-cooked Chinese food preceded his arrival at the old bookstore. Anyone else would be able to feel it as Mao navigated his way through the cramped space until he reached the table that he knew that was Chenlu's favorite and placed the boxed meal over it. "Here's your breakfast. Did anything out of ordinary happen today?" He asked, before swiping one of the books and examining it slowly as he waited for a reply.

---

The girl didn't seem to notice the arrival at first, absorbed in her narration to the rabbits. Apparently, she was criticising the characters in the stories for constantly making their own situation worse. Given that it was a horror collection, that was only to be expected... it was a strange choice of book if you didn't like seeing characters making mistakes so often.

"Ah, don't fall off!" Mao's decision to swipe one of the books apparently didn't get noticed by its fluffy occupant, and the girl seated there reached out to barely catch the rabbit. Not that it seemed to mind too much, looking in her direction and then contentedly placing itself on top of the book that had previously been underneath. "Oh, nothing has happened yet. The old lady came by again, I think she's trying to get here before I do."

The book Mao had picked up seemed to be a history text.

Fremont's deliberate attempts at throwing Steven off were working just a bit, even if the lawyer didn't show any hint of it on his face. There were far worse things to be staring at in Hell's courts, after all—he had seen a few of those firsthand, no thanks due to the Yama's tests before forming the contract.
Of course, they couldn't have hurt him, but the knowledge that such things and such places existed was enough to burn into his mind without having to worry about losing sleep.

"Targets vary depending on what headquarters wants us to handle; they can range anywhere from taking out a single person to dismantling entire underground crime rings or things that go a bit beyond that, if what my superiors have mentioned is anything to go off of. Both the membership and library card should be handled in a few days should you put in the request via your representative—in other words, me, and your request has been placed under consideration. We have a few bases that you can use for both of those purposes anyhow, so it shouldn't take too long for me to approve them," he stated, stopping the car as Fremont's last question came through. The subject of 'how many people' wasn't something that the prosecutor wanted to touch on all that much either, but this was one of those questions that was going to have to be answered one way or another.

"As for your last question... Well, I can't say I know everything, either. Not how many forces our group employs in this city, at least—its influence reaches across the nation, that much is for certain, but as of right now we don't have that many personnel in the city that can actively fight. Mostly logistics and support. Other than that... It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say that one wrong step would make the entire world your enemy. This rabbit hole reaches far further down than I can see, and I've already gotten this far."

With that, Steven sighed and calmly opened the door to the car and let himself out.

"In any case, we've arrived," he continued, beckoning the large man to exit and locking the vehicle once he did so and passing a key ring with a key on it to him. "Your room's on the eighth floor, so go check it out. Should be filled with the basics, so just let us know if there's anything you might want to put in a request for. Of course, your results will likely change how those pan out, so please, do your best. I'll be waiting at the nearby bookstore should you finish checking this place out; apparently, there's some things to be handled today. See you later."

With that, the lawyer waved and began walking away. There was enough confidence in Fremont to not cause another scene so soon after leaving jail, and it wasn't like he needed to babysit his now-coworker. That would betray the implicit trust that had been built up until now, and building something like that back up from scratch, no matter how small the progress might have been, would be far harder than any other thing he had done until now.

Who do you want me to kill? ‘Oh, you’re not allowed to know.’ Fan-fucking-tastic. Lundgren stopped beside the car, watching Fan walk away. Now that he had spoken with his ‘legal representative,’ everything was so clear. Of course they wouldn’t tell him who he was supposed to kill, that would make life simple. That, and days without lifting or reading, he was gonna go fucking insane.

Lundgren growled to himself as he entered the old, grey apartment high-rise before him. He growled at the attendant at the front desk, a bored looking teenager wearing a uniform. He growled when he reached his room, and opened the door to find… it was actually pretty damn nice. The interior was nothing too special, but there was a bed big enough to accommodate his hulking form. A few chairs, ceiling fan. There was a small bathroom, a sorta… closet type deal? Freestanding though, he wasn’t sure what to call it. And more than anything else, what caught his eye was a small countertop with an oven, a stovetop, fridge, and a dishwasher. He had a fucking dishwasher in the middle of town!

“Well I’ll be goddamned…” Fuck, a helluva lot better than he had expected. Maybe it was the only place they could find that would fit him? That king bed couldn’t have been cheap...

...Or maybe it was meant to throw him off his guard. There was no way this place wasn’t bugged to all hell. Fremont was dangerous, they were hiring him to beat up fucking demons. A small potted plant in the corner caught his eye, one of two. He strode up, shoulders back, teeth bared, and lifted the tiny thing. It fit in the palm of his hand.

A close inspection revealed nothing obvious. Ever so slightly, the curling snarl on his face relaxed. Lundgren set the plant down. It was slightly wilted.

Lundgren took a glass form the pantry, watering the pair of houseplants, then turned to the closet. Nothing QUITE big enough, but there was a check coming his way at the end of the week. He’d fix that soon. The former inmate turned, heading towards the door when his stomach growled like he had earlier.

The fridge was empty, save for a pair of icemakers in the freezer.

There was no mess outside the pen.

---

An absolute monster of a man exploded through the front of the bookstore, slamming the door open with a manic gleam in his wild eyes. A small amount of drool was leaking from the slit edge of his mouth, wiped away by a well-scarred hand. His clothes were tightly wrapped around his body, a pair of surprisingly clean steel-toed boots on his feet. The sleeves of what was once a relatively nice plaid button-up were missing from the shoulders down, along with a good portion of the front buttons. A wifebeater preserved his modesty.

“Alright kids, I smelled this joint from a mile away, and I got 20 bucks to my name. Fan told me this was a bookstore, but so help me if you sell food you're gonna be my best goddamn... Why are there rabbits everywhere?”

The detective pulled up to the curb outside of the safe house, glancing into the other seat as his quiet passenger. He wasn't sure if she was simply shy, tired from the long journey from Ireland or simply a naturally taciturn person. Even if it was the latter it didn't bother him any. THe most irritating people he had to work with were some of the ones that would never stop talking.

"Here we are at our safehouse-slash-bookstore."

He glanced past her through the passenger side window to the front door of the establishment. His forehead creased into a pained expression.

"And there's our other new member. He can be a little bit overbearing sometimes. If you want we can skip the introductions and move on to your lodgings."

@VitaVitaAR

When Jonathan had managed to converse with a Japanese deity during what he thought was a routine negotiation, he thought he'd seen the pinnacle of surreal oddity in life.

He had some annoying, mystical canine at his beck and call, his new colleagues displayed what could only be described as superhuman abilities... hell, last time he stopped by his destination - a totally normal, completely unassuming and unremarkable book store - he was pretty sure he saw a strange girl that had a fondness for rabbits? He'd decided not to approach her because, honestly, he was dealing with enough crap as is.

That little chat he'd had with Inari still niggled at his mind, and he was sure it had affected his sales lately. It felt like people were listening to him less and less. Having a success rate below 100% bothered the young man, and obviously it wasn't a problem with his sales pitch. Whether it was bad luck spewed by that stupid fox or whatever, Jonathan was convinced that someone in Soulflame was screwing with his real job, and needed someone to vent at.

Too bad the entrance to the shop was suddenly being guarded by some hulking ogre of a monster.

"...Eh?" Jon had frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the obstruction. Was that even a person? The guy was a monster! The non-combatant salesman was a tad above average in height himself, but he swore that this guy was, like, three times his height!
Well, if the bookstore really was under attack by some rogue demon or whatever, Jon decided he was less than qualified to assist. He could hardly rely on the stupid fox to do more than nip his ankle at best - assuming it bothered to materialise in the first place. No no, a stealthy exit was far more preferable.

The flight had been... annoying. It was hardly the only frustrating thing that had occurred recently, but to say that it wasn't would be a lie. She hadn't said much in the car ride, simply because there wasn't particularly much to say. She was going to be working under a new organization for a little while, now, and with that came a lot of things that needed to be considered. She wouldn't accept anything less then a role that enforced justice. She wasn't here to be used as a guard or anything like that, unless by guarding she defended the lives of the innocent. So, quite simply, if they thought she would be best utilized standing around a building, she would be forced to sharply disagree.

Abigail Kelly was a knight, not some kind of thug.

Thankfully, she didn't anticipate this would be an issue. At least, hopefully not. Soulflame was an organization all about ensuring that the various organizations that vied for control against one another would not assert it, and they would not cause the innocent to suffer. The very reason in her heart for her contract with the King of the Tuatha de Danann was for the sake of the innocent.

When the car came to a stop, and Abigail glanced towards the bookstore, she was immediately greeted with the sight of a hulking man many times her height. And another, much less gigantic man, seemingly quite frightened of him. Apparently he was indeed another new member of Soulflame...

"No, I'll introduce myself," she began, though she sighed as she looked at the gigantic man's huge frame, "Even if it's to a mountain of meat like that."

The redheaded knight stepped out of the vehicle, making her way to the door. Her pigtails bobbed with each step. Given her very short height, she was even more dwarfed by the gigantic man.

"Greetings," she began, glancing between them, "My name is Abigail Kelly, of the Fianna. I can assume we will be working together from this point on."

The hulking man throwing open the door so loudly induced a predictable response from all the rabbits: they fled the table, cowering behind their summoner like the skittish creatures they were. Of course, Chenlu herself wasn't the greatest protection against attack and from her position behind the table she could hardly protect Mao. So the white-haired foreigner simply did what came naturally to anyone raised constantly surrounded by organised criminals: call for help. Only, not in the entirely literal sense, but instead via her contract.

The horse-sized moon rabbit gave Fremont a blank look, blinking, as its summoner crouched behind it with one hand up her sleeves.

"Um... because I like rabbits?"

@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR@RolePlayerRoxas

Fremont blinked back at the lupine beast. Horse-sized hare, small girl with rabbit ears. Magic shit. “...Right, that checks out.”

His ears twitched. Behind him, a stuttering mess of a man seemed like he was about to piss himself, and a straight-backed Irish preschooler was saying something about introductions and working together. Lundgren tried to ignore it, but they were close enough that she seemed to be talking to both the cringing wreck and the convict. Which meant he would get to work with an uppity girl scout and a businessman with the spine of a claustrophobic oyster. Great.

He glanced over his shoulder, expressionless as he gave each one of them a long look, assessing what he saw. Magic existed, and appearances could be deceiving. Probably. Still, it wasn’t impressive. The girl was damn near a dwarf, unarmed, and had just used “greetings” as a serious greeting. In real life. What a loser. At least the girl in the shop had shown obvious signs of competency, by having a giant rabbit. That probably meant she was good at magic, or… well, he didn’t quite know how to respond to that, but surely it meant something. This red-haired one just seemed to think she was important. He grimaced ever so slightly as he turned his attention to the suit beside her.

The man was even worse. He was sweating like a whore in church. He was a beanpole, pretty, more of a boy than a man. His eyes were dinner plates, and his posture screamed panic. Ordinarily, Lundgren wouldn’t mind. As the team’s official tough guy, at least in his own head, a little fear in people around him was good. Problem was that, apparently, he was gonna have to work this guy. Who was terrified of him. He might need to do something about that at some point.

The colossal man shook his head with a disgust. Regardless, there were more important matters which required his attention. He was still starving, and the smell of chinese food was all but overpowering.

He opened his mouth, displaying his sharpened teeth, glistening with drool. He still wasn't sure how to deal with these people, it was... fuck, the pen was so much simpler. There you could just punch a man and deal with the consequences. Hell, that was how he had made most of his friends in the later years. Now he had to be civil. He spoke falteringly, failing to completely hide his concern about the newcomers. "Sure. Nice to meetcha, girl scout. You and uh... This guy. Right. I'm Lundgren. Fremont Lundgren."

The convict stood in the doorway for a few more moments before deciding to continue towards the source of food. Lundgren shouldered into the building, his head almost scraping the door frame. It was... cozy. Stacks of books were piled all around, and a carpeted interior, counter intuitive to the amount of animals that seemed to live here, contributed to the atmosphere well. Still, it seemed clean. Maybe they were trained? Magic? Probably magic. He was gonna go with that.

He closed the door behind him.

The entirety of the shop was nice. That was the problem. This wasn't prison. The chairs looked comfortable, it was cool inside, and the food smelled palatable. He wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Lundgren glanced between the rabbit-eared girl and the cool guy reading in the corner, like an asshole. All momentum was lost. He knew no one here, no one was trying to kill him, and he still hadn't fought anyone in a month.

His teeth ached, the anklet chafing. The Wolf was always louder when the man was hungry.

Trying to focus on anything except for his rising hackles and sense of paranoia, he found himself once more lost in the hypnotic gaze of the giant rabbit. How the hell did they get the damn thing in here? Was there another door, did they teleport it? Could the girl teleport rabbits? Was she a rabbit?? He had so many questions, but he reigned it in for now.

“So uh… Do you guys sell food then?”

Mao peeled his gaze away from book just as all sorts of individuals began filtering in, making the already cramped store feel more like a sardine can.

“Just one more normal day for the Soulflame, huh?” he commented in an introspective or, perhaps, nonchalant tone.

He would have returned to his endeavor, unmoved by the commotion were it not for the gigantic rabbit brushing against his side.

“If it’s food for the mind that you seek, you have come to the right place,” Mao said, turning his listless gaze towards the living wall of flesh that startled Chen Lu. “It’s alright, no one would cause a commotion here,” he added, addressing his protege in their home language before turning his attention back to his previous task.

“November of 89, huh?” He thought out loud, flipping a page of his book seemingly minding his own business again. Only someone who knew Mao for long enough would be able to notice the minute signs indicating that he was anything but unaware of his surroundings and potentially ready to kill at the drop of a hat if need be.

Once he had left Fremont to his own devices, Steven had made a beeline towards his usual workplace. It was part of the order he had been given earlier that day: pick up and drop off the new member he was assigned to, grab the necessary data that had been compiled, and start working on the job with everyone else assigned to the 'unit' he was in.

To be honest, the lawyer didn't much care for how military-esque everything was put, but it wasn't like he was in any position to argue.

By the time he had arrived at the bookstore that he had mentioned to the giant wall of a man, Steven noticed that the group that Donovan had been assigned to pick up was already there well ahead of him.

"Huh. So much for 'waiting over here', huh?" he quipped, glancing over at the quivering mess of a man standing at the building's entrance before slipping inside. It was quite odd that his superiors had piled on so many rookies—himself included—onto the same team, but this was no time to argue with people who could probably lop his head off at the first word.

"I see you've already made yourself known," he stated simply, glancing at Fremont (who, in turn, was staring at the giant rabbit that had been summoned by Yang) before stepping over to a nearby table and clearing the books off of it. "In any case, your 'wish' has been granted; we've got a job."

With that, Steven placed the sealed dossier that he had left to retrieve onto the table and opened it for everyone to see. A cursory glance over it made it clear what the job was, and the lawyer was starting to massage his forehead.

"Aaah... You're kidding, right? Stop a black market auction in the middle of the night, tonight, and detain as many of the people present as possible... Which group was this?" he sighed, flipping through the documents with mild irritation. "Hm. Intel's saying it's a Japanese Anchor by the name of 'War God's Wrath' in charge, so I guess things are probably going to get really physical."

Of course, Steven wasn't really familiar with all of the Anchor names yet—there was a great amount of them, after all—but there was an additional remark that the group had ties with the yakuza and a few other shadier Anchors on the paper. Didn't make the whole situation any better, to be frank; it just meant that they were probably armed to the teeth with conventional weaponry, even putting aside whatever Contractor(s) they had at hand.

"Alright, everyone. Directions were to let whoever wanted to read more to go wild, then burn the documents to ash and start preparations for the night. Location's the docks, and we haven't been given transport, so... Start planning."

Well wasn't this wonderful? The second Jonathan had decided a disappearing act was the way to go, some fool had to come over and address him. Well, them. It was probably quite pathetic that a girl could easily greet a man when she could barely reach his knee while he couldn't, but the salesman would like to stress in his defence, he quite liked surviving.

And now the giant's attention was brought to him. Jonathan was as still as he could manage, a wavering smile plastered across his face, arms completely straight at his sides. Under normal circumstances, the young salesman could hide his true emotions behind a smiling, friendly face, for any client between the kindly old grandmother with seven cats and a disdain for marmalade, to cliche crime bosses that loved sunglasses way too much. Soulflame was really throwing him for a loop these days.

Despite the look that the giant - calling himself Fremont - gave him, Jonathan had to try and regain a modicum of composure. He forced out what he hoped was a jovial laugh, "H-hi there! Jonathan Sterling here. Call me Jon, we're all pals here, right...?" the giant disappeared into the shop as he forced the line out, leaving him unsure of it was heard. Well, not that it mattered. He let out a relieved, wiping his forehead.

"...Think I preferred talking with Inari..." he muttered, and glanced towards Abigail. Now that Fremont was out the picture, he could act completely normal again. Straightening, he offered a somewhat more natural smile to her, "pleasure to meet you, Miss Kelly! I hope we can get along!" he offered his hand for a shake.

@Tominas@VitaVitaAR

After dropping off Abigail at the book shop, the detective left to drop of the borrowed vehicle at the police motor pool as soon as possible. He almost would have liked to see how the newcomer would deal with Mount Lundgren but had a hunch that she shouldn’t have any issues. Anyway, he had wrung a promise from big man to behave himself, which meant that with Donovan asking the question that the subject had every intention of following through with the promise.

It didn’t take long to return with his beloved bike, the nimble vehicle managing the city traffic with ease. It was almost physically painful when he was forced to use a car for any reason but he was forced to bear with it for work. After parking up outside he pulled off his helmet and slipped inside of the door, standing quietly against the wall to watch. He caught the end of the briefing from Stephen.

“And I’m assuming we want to keep this quiet. It’s not like we can simply use the police department to do the heavy lifting. How many are we expecting to show up for the auction anyway?”

... Rabbits.

For a moment, Abigail was a little taken aback. Of course, a contract with a specific deity could result in the summoning of a specific animal. Therefore, seeing that someone had the ability to summon rabbits was not, in itself, shocking. However, seeing a rabbit the full size of a horse was something a bit more... surprising, to say the least. It was also quite adorable, just like all the other rabbits she had caught a glimpse of, but she couldn't be distracted by anything like that.

Besides, there was a more important matter to attend to. The massive man had addressed her as a girl scout.

"Ahem. I am no simple girl scout," she protested, "The Knights of the Fianna are the successors to the united warriors of the same name, so long ago. I am one of their foremost members, and I would suggest you treat others with the same respect you would wish to be treated yourself."

Abigail's tone was rather sharp, like the edge of the sword. She was rather irritated at being referred to in such a fashion, after all. With one more look at the huge man, her attention shifted once more...

A black market raid?

No matter what the case was, she would play her role in the name of justice.

@Raineh Daze@Tominas@KoL@RolePlayerRoxas@TheFake

As suddenly as it had arrived, the rabbit disappeared, with Chenlu straightening up and biggening to devour the food brought here as breakfast. Between bites there was the sounds of something that were probably an apology about there being no other food as this wa sa bookstore, but she was diving back into eating again too quickly for it to be clear. Possible it was because she was half-starved, though unlikely. Or maybe it was because she was still concerned--despite the reassurance--that her food might be stolen by the hungry hulking behemoth.

Oddly enough, she seemed quite interested in reading the papers, not 100% line by line scanning, but enough to get a good idea how things were going on. Black markets... how odd to be attending one to shut it down rather than as a customer.

"I can supply distractions, but I don't think there's much else for me to do here... not unless someone tries to escape from it by running right past me. And I should probably be careful near mobsters, even if it is the yakuza."

Mao kept to himself as the others talked. He didn’t have any stakes in their quarrels and would like it to remain so. However, even he couldn’t avoid taking notice of the fact that the disproportionately huge man from before was the center of attention of the whole room for most of the time until Steven came in, to deliver the news of their upcoming task.

While Mao didn’t have any special regards for his own wellbeing, he would prefer if they could avoid dealing with this kind of request. Chenlu’s safety was the only thing on his mind. However, he couldn’t trust that the others wouldn’t be as much of a source of problems if left alone in this business. They looked woefully unprepared and inexperienced, especially the would-be-knight who probably never took a human life in a close and personal way in her whole life.

With no choice about what course of action to take, only one thing was left to be said, right after Chenlu made her lack of combative abilities known.

“Witnesses?” Mao asked Steven in an ominously dispassionate tone.

---