@SilverPaw@Bartimaeus

Sato didn't instantly throw his glass at Al. That was a start. He didn't initially respond either--instead choosing to stare down the anxious psychometrist for an uncomfortably long time. That was less conducive to their investigation.

"I don't know anything about anyone." Sato finally said in a dismissive tone. In fact, neither Alphard and Kelly could immediately ascertain anything beyond this dismissal. In fact, the two detectives had troubles ascertaining anything here. They could very clearly see the bar. But what was unusual was how sterile things felt. Despite being in a run-down part of town, the place didn't smell of much. There was no tinge of cleaning product. There was no hint of ages old grime. He couldn't even smell the spirits in front of the heir. After all, it was only a few hours since the massacre happened. It wouldn't be unheard of if someone like Sato didn't know and this was a dead end.

The demon by his side remained silent and in a polite stance.

---

_{With: Lorelei, Dezzie
Location: Uncommon Vintage -> Floating District}

---

Barbatos did, actually, take notes. He tapped at a memo app on his phone, starting off with look up Hawaii cop show. The sheer amount of media Earth produced meant it was easy for things, especially older ones, to fly under the demon's radar. Thankfully it also meant he'd never lack for things to watch. He continued noting down random things Lorelei said as she put Dezzie through a dressing room marathon, as well as the very few things Dezzie herself said whenever she stepped out from behind the curtain in each new outfit.

Eventually, probably because he was literally writing down what he heard, Barbatos seemed to realize that neither woman was saying much about any outfit. Dezzie herself seemed only to follow along with Lorelei's whims, but Lorelei chose each of her words carefully, making sure that her opinions on the clothes were equal and unbiased every time. This meant that she didn't gush at how cute or cool she was making Dezzie look, which was kind of a shame. Barbatos wouldn't have cared if it was him in Dezzie's place, but girls needed a hype man in times like this, didn't they? And so he pulled a stool over to park himself on so he didn't loom quite so large, pocketed his phone, and enthusiastically pointed out every piece of each ensemble he even sort of liked.

His favorite had been one of the earlier picks, a comfy looking tee shirt and shorts, with breathable fishnets to break up the bare skin of her legs. It was really cute, especially with the glasses, but it also seemed like it would be pretty cozy too. He had expected the demon woman to go with something more professional looking, but to his surprise when Dezzie exited the dressing room for the last time, it was in his top choice.

"Ooh, so you really liked that one too?" Barbatos said as his tail softly slapped the ground a few times. He didn't normally judge books by their covers, but he really hadn't thought his tastes might have run so similar to those of the succubus (of course, he was still mostly ignorant to Dezzie's choice paralysis). Before he could say much of anything else, Barbatos himself was ushered into an open room and clothes were thrown over the top at him. The trio had ended up spending quite a bit of time in the store, so Barbatos was not given any options besides the one - and as soon as he was changed it was off to their real destination.

---

He'd ended up in something similar to Dezzie's new outfit. Gone was his beloved, colorful floral shirt. In its place was a dark muscle shirt, with a loose long sleeved jacket over it. And where Dezzie's top featured bone, Barbatos' now featured organs - a pair of lungs. The print was bright whites and grays, the left lung showing a stylized vascular system and the right one curled out into wisps and branches. A belt with a silver buckle paired well enough with the other demon's collar, and it held up a pair of black denim pants with a little pocket chain that were a bit tighter than he preferred. Barbatos pulled at the knees of the new duds more than once. It would probably be fine to rip them, right? A tear or two seemed like it would fit the style, and it would be easier to move around in... but he did just get them. Better not then, for now at least.

The fact that the two demons almost matched was not lost on Barbatos, especially as it was more apparent now that all three investigators stood together in the middle of the Floating District. It amused Barbatos more than anything else, and he turned his head towards Lorelei, asking her quietly and genuinely, "did you have fun?"

Regardless, now that they were here, they did have a job to do.

Barbatos looked up at the higher levels first, his gaze gradually sweeping down toward the wider main street and the connected alleys. He tipped his head, thinking.

"I'm sure we can find a few people that knew some of the victims. At least the one guy, anyway. Could probably get a proper ID, and we'll see if the guy happened to say anything that might be related to the case." Some would be shocked to learn what people felt secure in telling the company they'd paid for. "Or... maybe get some clues about who the other, uh..." he floundered briefly, as he couldn't really think of a polite way to say it off the top of his head. "...mulched guys were?"

Naturally, just speaking to the people around was Barbatos' first plan of action. The girls might have a different idea though, which he wouldn't mind either. Barbatos looked at Dezzie and Lorelei, his countenance casual but curious. "I figured we'll stick together, unless you two want to split up? Some of the girls might get skittish if we all talk to 'em at once, but most of them won't mind."

That was his experience, anyway. Barbatos didn't think they'd run into any trouble if the other two decided to go off on their own, but if they did then Lorelei had his number. She could call, or else just shout really loudly.

There wasn't much danger that Kelly could surmise from the bar. It was just overly clean. Though, it was a little hard to focus when someone as brutalized as Sato was in front of him. He had some sort of punished charisma going on. Either that or his senses were still yelling out that there was a 50/50 chance that Sato would still hock the glass at him.

"Listen, I don't know shit about anything if you don't tell me what you're looking for," Sato frustratedly said before he took a sip of the drink in front of him.

He paused for a moment to think as if recollecting some memories from a hazy stupor.

"This brown wolf bitch covered in scars came in a month ago asking about the Saniwa and the floating district. Said she was a concerned citizen and that whole spiel. I didn't tell her shit and couldn't because I've been rotting away here for years. Plus, I'm not some bullshit kumbaya unionist so I wouldn't tell her even if I did know. If she did something, I'm no part of it."

The sheep demon still didn't speak, though she nodded to affirm what Sato said.

---

Sitting in the backseat of Lorelei's car (eating the last of the donuts and not regretting it), Dezzie picked at her new hotpants with a small frown on her face. Sure, yeah, it was one of the woman's picks, and Barbatos had endorsed it. She trusted both of them to make a decision on street clothes way more than her. She'd even gone the extra mile and adjusted her height, dropping three inches and slimming down just a little bit just so she'd sell the oversized shirt look better. She hadn't changed how she looked for a while, and it was taking a little while to get used to her point of view being suddenly lower.

She hadn't known what she was getting into when she'd asked Lorelei for help. Some kind of mania had taken the woman, that was all she could believe, and each outfit had gotten more outlandish than the last. It was like being caught up in Hurricane Lorelei. She had been sorely tempted to take the suit, but she knew that it would appear as either out of place, or like a gangster (and there was a small part of her that did want to wear something new). So she'd picked the one that was the least strange, and that Barbatos liked the most.

But it was just so...so weird! It had been ages since she'd worn street clothing. Honestly, she couldn't remember; in her thirties, before she joined up? She mostly wore her uniform now, or a suit when she was off work.

...Which was making this new clothing even stranger, given that it could not be more different from the norm. People thought of stiff clothing as uncomfortable; she'd gleaned that. But she'd worn it for so long that the stiffness was almost comforting to her. Fabric this light and supple felt thin, filmy, not nearly substantial enough. Like she was walking around in her undergarments, especially with how short the pants were. She'd never worn glasses and couldn't get used to the extra weight on her nose, and something about the collar just felt bizarre, which she chalked up to not having worn anything around her neck for as long as she cared to remember.

She'd spotted Lorelei out of the corner of her eye, examining things that she would never in a million years wear, and frankly counted herself lucky that she got by with 'only' something like this. One of those dresses just straight up didn't have a back, and the entire concept made her uncomfortable. Her uniform sat in the seat beside her in an unassuming boutique shopping bag that wouldn't arouse suspicion. Wouldn't do to risk security by having some two-bit walking around pretending to be a cop, after all.

---

Dezzie had always avoided the Floating District. She was recognizable as a succubus, after all, and currently not a police officer by appearance at the moment; and she wanted to avoid any embarrassing misunderstandings or unwelcome contact as much as possible. Well, that, and she didn't really...get it. But, she reflected as she stared up at the spiderweb of crisscrossing metal and glass that lay above, it was...beautiful, she finished to herself. The whole thing felt almost surreal, with the grungy neon juxtaposed so sharply against wealth. But it was also beginning to grate on her. Everything was so bright, and so loud, and there were too many people, and all the smells and all the emotions--

"Well, welcome to the Floating District proper, Dezzie. How're you feeling?"

She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding and let her face relax. "Overwhelmed," came her blunt, if slightly tense, reply. "It's beautiful, but there's just...so much. This is why I don't do field work," she finished with a hmmph. Barbatos chimed in then, going over some leads he had and places that they could look. That was nice, it'd give them direction so they weren't wandering around this mayhem. She was content with listening, until he asked if they should split up.

Usually, Dezzie worked best alone, or maybe with just one other person on a good day. Her general competence and issues with people made it less of a pain for everyone involved. But this was distinctly not a usual kind of day. The whole heads exploding into flowers and people becoming paste thing had her feeling a little bit out of her element, to say nothing about the fact that she might be in line for the same treatment. It was a day where for once, Dezzie wanted to be a part of as big a group as possible. So upon the question, she responded instantly in a sharp tone: "Absolutely not. I might be on the list for the same fate as the Saniwas and I am not keen on that. We stick together." Perhaps Lorelei might catch the expression on her face as she looked around that might hint at a further motivation, that of the sheer energy of the Floating District being too much for Dezzie. But as she took a deep breath and schooled her face into its usual expression, the clues of that hesitancy vanished.

"So," she added suddenly, "shall we?"

“Of course. Some things may never happen again, after all.”

And with that, Lorelei turned her attention back to the task at hand. While Barbatos and Dezzie were both decked out in alt-rock punk that was undercut with some softer, cute elements, Lorelei chose juxtaposition herself, strutting alongside them in a luxuriously white dress that hugged her curves, while a faux-fur coat was draped over her shoulders, breaking up that otherwise lethal silhouette. The thigh holster was brazenly displayed along the slit of her dress, while the wide-brimmed sun hat that hid one eye simply added to the deadly allure, the mystery of not knowing when exactly she’d hang you upside down and lower you into a cement mixer.

There were times where Lorelei liked to play along, and times where she’d indulge in her own whims. In this case, of course? Well, it was the Floating District, and no matter how much of a fraction her income was when compared to the higher-earners of the hostess clubs and strip bars, she certainly couldn’t let herself be shown up, no?

“No reason to split up somewhere like this, after all,” Lorelei spoke, casting a knowing glance towards Dezzie. “Wouldn’t want Barbatos to go get snatched up, would we?”

With that, she strutted off, knowing exactly where to begin their investigations into the root of the Saniwa’s demise.

…

7th Haven occupied the liminal space between true luxury and common decadence. A mid-tier establishment by design rather than by the lack of business acumen, it grasped upon the classiness of a parlor meant for businessmen to relax amongst women more beautiful than their wives, while still being able to kick up the raunchiness during themed nights or the hours past the witching hour. Incandescent lights lent their warmth to velvet and brass and at this time of day, though the gleaming poles weren’t accompanied by dancers, an androgynous pianist sat before their grand instrument still, playing a melody at once nostalgic and foreign to the admiration of the layabouts who could afford to drink during the day.

It was in contrast with the garish neon and explosive sex appeal of lower-level establishments, for certain.

It was also certainly an intentional choice by Lorelei. She smiled towards the chiselled specimen of a slime-demon behind the bar’s counter, then lead her companions up to the second floor lounge area, which overlooked the first floor. It was empty enough, outside of a few shady-looking fellows making perfectly-legal business transactions. Her fingertips brushed over the petals of a dandelion, a flower that featured prominently in 7th Haven due to its owner’s tastes, before Lorelei sat down.

“I’ve a friend here,” she said. “Make yourselves at ease; it might be a bit.”

A touch of thought.

“Ah, the wifi password is ‘gigavaporeonfluids’. All capitals, with the first ‘I’ being a 1.”

It took some time for Lorelei's acquaintance to arrive.

Quiet and weak footsteps could barely be heard if one was quiet--twice as many, if one counted their own steps on their way up.

"It's been a while." A hoarse voice announced, their tone quiet and slow.

A small figure crested the stairway into the 2nd floor lounge. Someone of short stature, their loose clothing--though every detective knew that the figure's clothing wasn't meant to be loose--hid their figure beyond their surprisingly broad shoulders. Slowly, they continued moving up the stairs, both feet meeting on the same step before trying to ascend the next.

Their skin and hair was nearly flawless; fragments of age spoiled perfection, however. Of course, this was no natural beauty. Both Dezzie and Lorelei knew that this beauty was the result of hours of care and enough product to start a retailer. Barbados? The man's idea of "exfoliate" was letting the wind kick beach sand into his face. Contrary to their appearance, they didn't possess an ounce of youthful vigor. In fact, a light breeze would blow them away.

"Congratulations on the promotions," they said to Lorelei, "or I suppose transfers? It's been quite a while since I last saw you. How have things been going with your life?"

"Though, it's a bit strange why you'd ask me to meet up with some..." they paused as to look up and down at Dezzie and Barbatos, "swingers?"

They chuckled to themselves a little, only stopping as a languidness took them over. Rather quickly, they took a seat.

"I'm Lev," they introduced themselves, "my mother wanted me to be like a lion, but you can see how that turned out."

---

---

Alphard stared back at Sato, nervously wringing his hands as a long silence stretched between them. Once the man spoke, he inhaled deeply, feeling like he could finally breathe again. Unfortunately, the mafioso’ answer was entirely unhelpful. He cast a glance at Kelly, who thankfully backed him up. As his fellow agent spoke, Al nodded along while also taking in the bar. For a building which from the outside appeared abandoned, the inside was unusually clean. It wasn’t just a matter of it being well-maintained, it was as if it had been stripped of the hallmarks of any self-respectable bar; there was no scent of alcohol, no smoke, no perfume of cologne, not even a hint that cleaning implements had been used. There was nothing to indicate this place was lived in, even though it very clearly was being used.

It was somewhat reminiscent of how the Saniwa estate had been. Aside from the blood and guts, there too had been very scant evidence indicating either abandonment or inhabitation. He determined he’d use his abilities here too, as subtly as he could. But first things first.

“Er, right, it’s like Kelly said, I’m investigating a case…” It was great the canine’s words were convincing enough for Sato to offer up more information. Alphard perked up right away when another lead was mentioned. “Oh! A brown wolf…er, lady, you say?” He inched closer, yet held back from truly approaching, dissuaded by Kurodoji’s hostility. “I guess I should tell you – I’m Alphard,” he held out a hand. “I'm with the BPS,” he clarified, as if the badge or the holstered pistol he was allowed to open carry weren’t telling enough. “I know of you, Mr. Kurodoji, but I figured we should still introduce,” he smiled weakly, palm remaining extended. He waited patiently, though of course, neither of the other two moved to shake. Sato brusquely gave his name, while the sheep demon offered a moniker: The Caretaker.

“Right…Hm, well, I’d like to hear a bit more about this person who came in a month ago. What I’m looking into is related to the Saniwa, and the floating district too, I think. Mind if I join you?” A pointed look to the other side of the bar was a clear message. He could sit down if he wanted, as long as it was far away. With a nod, Al went to perch onto a barstool, a few seats remaining vacated between him and the human and demon duo.

Sato, unfortunately, did not know the wolf lady’s name, but undeterred, Alphard took out his notebook. He took care with this action, so as to not startle either of the other two. “It’s ok if-if you don’t know her name. I can make a sketch. Is she a demon, a human contracted to one, do you know?” He drew according to Sato’s description, showing the sketch to him and his demon companion when it was finished. “Oh, by the by, does this eye look familiar to you?” He pointed out the previous drawing he’d made.

Noting their reactions, he nodded at whatever responses was given. “Right…right. Now, er, this might sound like a w-weird question, but Ms. Caretaker, did you clean this place?” He’d had time to channel his magic into the surroundings, only to come back with nothing. The chair, the floor, the bar, the bottles, the glass, the ashtray; wherever he’d managed to reach, the feedback was the same. Nothing. A serene lack of sensations, feelings, and memories. As sterile as the bar was to the physical senses, so too it seemed to have been scrubbed clean psychically.

“Oh, I me-mean magically speaking,” he clarified. “I can sense these kinds of things, so I was curious,” he regarded the Caretaker. Of course, it might have been Sato himself, but given her nickname, he figured it was likelier to be her if either of them was responsible in the first place. “If it was you, it’s very well done. There’s nothing left at all!” He enthused, genuinely amazed. “Any chance that you know anyone with, hm…Well, if I’m ri-right, I’m looking for someone or something which instead of erasing what was there doesn’t leave a trace in the first place.” He hoped he had managed to be vague enough not to give away restricted intel on their investigation while still making sense.

Alphard could tell that the former heir didn't really listen when he gave Sato his name. When asked about the Saniwa, a grimace came over his face. "I stopped thinking about that shit years ago. I don't want any part of that bullshit anymore and I don't change my mind."

Sato spoke more when asked about about the wolf.

"What are you, deaf? What part of wolf says 'human'." Sato unceremonious snapped back at Al. He sighed as he recollected himself. Whatever would get them out of his hair without any trouble. "It's a brown wolf or dog or something--she's a demon. Parts of black. Some bullshit nu-tattoo without any meaning. Large scar on her eye. A few scars on her body--didn't wear much."

He paused to recollect more.

"She had a huge rack."

With his memories now spent, he took another sip of his drink. He didn't react to the drawing of the eye that Alphard had made earlier that morning.

"What, it's an eye?"

The two detectives could tell that the complete non-reaction and slight befuddlement that neither Caretaker--the sheep-like demon--or Sato recognized the drawing beyond it being an eye.

"She cleans up this place," Sato answered for Caretaker. "Rarely misses a spot. Except for the high shelves."

His stool jostled as Caretaker weakly kicked one of the legs.

Caretaker simply shrugged when asked about something not leaving a trace. Neither Kelly or Al could sense any deception. She probably didn't know anything it.