While the walk was a touch longer than he'd of liked, it had done him good to stretch his legs and he felt much more sound than when he first slogged his way onto the harbor. The obvious detour around the 'law' also caused him to chuckle and shake his head, so he continued with good humor as he contemplated the common failings of peddlers- both above and Neeth. His contact would prove to be a good one for the shadier side of things it seems.
As the curious construction shrank in size and grew in splendor the detective found himself growing increasingly uncomfortable. He had nothing against high class folk really, they paid their bills and tipped well when properly motivated or thankful. But people with money tend to look down on those who don't, and as the glitz and glamor increased Miles found it harder and harder to ignore the fact that he did not.
The odd taste in fashion, though not his forte beyond his usual work, was a bit disconcerting all said and done. And he wasn't sure he liked the sentiment behind it- rich folk donning the rags of the poor and calling it high class sat kinda sour in his stomach. Although he couldn't deny that some of them pulled it off rather fetchingly as his eyes followed Miss Peach and Onyx with her drab and yellow stripes. Something about her reminded him of someone- he'd dated some pretty dames before but she was certainly a looker... although he couldn't tell which one it was that she looked like, the memory slipping from his grasp like so much wet sand.
Finally he came upon what could only be the Mandrake, if the signs were to be believed. Frankly the place set him a little on edge, too big and clean for his kind of pub- and certainly too many flowers out in the front. The bougainvillea's looked particularly vicious despite their well pruned state. He gave them a wide berth as he slipped inside.
While the gaudy wealth about the place does not diminish, the busy noise and eclectic nature of the establishment's patrons does give him a small sense of relief- with such variety of sights and sounds he could easily slink his way to some corner stool and play the invisible wallflower for a while, just until he scoped out his target.
The multiple orators of the poetical kind was a bit of a new sound to get used to in the midst of the muddle- but he mentally sorted it away with the sound of conversation- just one with persistent rhymes. The violin wasn't too bad, although we was no musical aficionado to be able to tell such things, it didn't hold a candle to whom ever was tickling the ivories at the moment.
Before he could get a good look however, he heard the siren call of his favorite vice- the sound of cards being shuffled and dealt audible to his ears even in the din of a fully crowded room. Three healthy sized gents sat off to the side, not far from where he stood, their hands in motion showing tantalizing glimpses of the royal family and friends.
Miles licked his lips and dug his fingers into his palms, the itch back with the force of a hunger. He was at the Mandrake now wasn't he, surely he could spare time for a game or two- what would be the harm... might even win some cash-er echos, which he was desperately short on.
His wandering eyes soon found something else to fixate on however, as his attention was solely captured by the musician on center stage. If Miss Peaches and Onyx had him rubbernecking then this woman gave him whiplash. A tall drink of water if there ever was one, from the concentrated ease in which she played to her generous everything, she was like staring into the sun and Miles found it difficult to look away.
He managed though, dame's like that were nothing but trouble- and much too good for the likes of him. He'd be lucky if she noticed him long enough to shine her shoes. But he wasn't here to be chasing skirts- Miles was here for a job, and he was gonna keep it that way (like he believed any of that tomfoolery about Hearts Desire, nothing like that came free- so a job it was, and a case by the sound of it if he was lucky).
He'd lingered too long however and now was starting to get the attention he'd hoped to avoid. He gratefully ducked away at the bartender's wave.
"Nice place you got here Barkeep," Miles said as he sidled up to the bar, "Don't need to worry about my order though, I'm actually here to meet somebody..." His eyes strayed once more to the Table of Cards, and he rubbed his thumb against his fingers, "Think they'd mind a fourth at their table while I wait? I could really go for a game and who knows how long it'll take The-"
With a sinking feeling realization dawned, and Miles' stomach dropped, "That gal on stage, she's The Debonair Pianist ain't she."
