tushanshu | 003 ♛ video

Good morning, Keeliai.

[ Monet's seated, her clothes neatly pressed, colours deliberately chosen to contrast the comfortable seat in front of her console, one leg crossed over the other. She hasn't found any nail polish a-turtle yet, or she'd be wearing that as well. Her tone is pleasantly pitched, and even-keeled. ]

My name is Monet Saint-Croix, and I'm acquainted with several kedan who're willing to accept temporary assistance from Foreigners for tasks our gifts are more suited to handling [ i.e., with superpowers ]. This is an excellent opportunity to get more involved with the local community, and perhaps improve relations. [ a polite smile to punctuate ]

If you're interested in helping, kindly come to the office [ a location ping in the Metal Sector ] provide your name, the types of cases you're accustomed to handling, and where we can reach you if a suitable match turns up. Should you wish to be a part of the venture but under a [ her nose wrinkles, just barely: she can't believe she's about to say this ] superhero identity, that can be negotiated. Payment will be by commission, depending on how satisfactorily you complete your task.

If you have any questions you may direct them to this console. [ A short pause, for another smile. ] We look forward to working with you.

[ And with that, she turns off the feed. ]

[ooc: feel free to jump straight to action, she'll be at the office all day. ooc planning post is here, job list is here, and do fill out telepathy permissions if you have time, thank you.]

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[An announcement like that certainly gets his attention. Styx is no stranger to this sort of arrangement - like a dozen contacts in one, hell yeah. It's convenient as anything, and certainly worth checking out.

The old goblin is anything but an imposing figure, all of four feet tall with a somewhat stooped posture - natural, rather than voluntary - that doesn't help matters any. But his movements are confident, and his eyes are keener than his daggers.]

Nice place. You still takin' down names for work?

[Monet's at the desk, and upon seeing Styx she has no outward reaction, no fascination, no revulsion. He has hunter's eyes, those don't just happen.]

I am. What can I interest you in?

[Styx has spent the last century learning to pay close attention - who reacts to him, and how. He's seen the whole range by now, from fascination to skepticism to violence. I never saw a goblin that could talk, let alone be a guide. This one, though, she might be his favorite sort: the kind that just plain isn't squeamish. Straight to business.]

Guess you could say I'm a sneak for hire. If somebody needs to be found and they don't want to be found, I'll handle it. Somebody needs a path through dangerous territory, I'll find it for 'em and make sure they get there. This lock-maker used to pay me to test his work, and I once spent a day and a half in hiding just to spot and catch this fuckin' pickpocket that was running wild in the wrong neighborhood. You know, this and that. [All true. Money is money, and he's done his share of perfectly legal work over the years.]

Cleaned up some nasty infestations too, and not your usual sorta rats.

[Monet pays him just enough attention: not too little to be dismissive, and not to much to be desperate. He is useful; even if she might not have the guarantee of being able to mind-wipe him should she require something sensitive, he's someone who at least might grasp discretion.]

[There's a cosmic force running around, and maybe somebody like Styx could help. She gestures to the seat.]

You're perfectly suited for this ridiculous war, then.

[Inefficient, more like. She reaches for a file and a pen while Styx makes himself comfortable.]

[A coarse and rough-edged creature he may be, but he is also someone who takes professionalism and good business practices seriously. Discretion he can certainly do, and even without knowing what's going through her head he knows that's one of the things he'll have to rebuild his reputation for in this town. All the more reason to not let job opportunities pass him by.]

Heh, might be. Woulda been nice if they'd asked me first, but what can you do.

[The chair, like most human things, is a little on the large side for him; after seating himself he casually tucks one foot under his other leg, knowing full well that having both feet dangling even slightly off the floor would make him look a little bit like some absurdly ugly child.]

[She makes a small, restrained noise of amusement.]

What we'd do if they had a lesson in etiquette. [She only glances at him as he sits, finding a blank page. He's already given her a description of what he did in his world, and she didn't detect a lie in there, so she fills that in and then looks up.] Your name, Monsieur?

[A smile crosses his face. He's hardly one to talk about perfect manners, but even he could get behind said individuals learning a thing or two about etiquette. Because there's rude, and then there's rude.]

Styx. Just that, no surname or nothin'.

[She writes that down, then-]

And how may we reach you?

A private message on that network thing they got works. [If more specific contact info than his name is required to get a message through to an inbox, consider that also mentioned.] Just make sure it ain't written out - you know how it is, written language here is fuckin' weird.

The translator spell is incomplete. [She has a lot of disdain for it, but she expresses that only momentarily. Half-baked jobs annoy her as much as something messing with her perception of something does.] I use couriers amongst the locals, for privacy, is this acceptable?

Normally I'd ask who, but it ain't like I'd know 'em. Even by reputation. [Ah, the many small frustrations of starting over.] So if they're people you trust to run for your business, I got no complaints.

A pity. It's hard to find good help.

[But she nods; satisfied that he can be discrete.]

If you require any I can provide recommendations. They've been very reliable.

Edited (enter key wtf) 2014-02-15 17:23 (UTC)

I definitely wouldn't turn down a name or two if you got suggestions. There's nothin' on my plate right this second that needs another pair of feet to run my errands, mind you, but tomorrow's always a surprise.

[She opens a drawer and takes out a small piece of paper, and reads the list of names to him.]

If you prefer a foreigner, James Kidd would be more than up for it, but it's a risk employing one regularly. The magic here that sends us away is extremely unreliable.