[i][u]With the Pianist[/u][/i]

The Pianists reacts with a characteristically nubile smirk as she is complimented by the diplomat, and nods understandingly when reminded that her detective guest is as such. Speaking after a sip of whatever orange liquid she is drinking, her voice fills the room.

"I do indeed know how fickle luck is, detective. I have seen both sides of her plenty of times, as I'm sure you have too. Regardless, I'm sure you are curious about your situation. I will get to the point; I've never been one for dramatic speeches, the piano a sufficient pantomime for me, you see. This is the the state of things: I represent a certain interested and consummately well-connected Benefactor who chooses to remain anonymous. He, for reasons he has not seen fit to tell me, has chosen you two, and one other who should be here shortly" She checks a pocket watch, impatience visible only to the most perceptive of eyes for the brief second "are among the multitude he has offered the same deal. He promises your Heart's Desire, whatever that may be, upon the completion of a series of no more than 12 tasks, uniquely suited to men of particular importance and capability. There will be some choice in what tasks you will be assigned, seeing as you are but one cell in a rather large network of beneficiaries, but once the agreement is entered such choices cannot be guaranteed at all times. The minutia of the agreement can be read here, though it is dreadfully boring if you ask my opinion." she produces a piece of paper from [i]somewhere[/i], darker brown than usual and covered in minute print, headed by an embroidered signature of some "Baseborn and Fowlingpiece", presumably a legal institution.

"I must warn you that what law there is in London will not view all the tasks that may be assigned as entirely legal, though you will find such trifles mean a good deal less out of the sun. Needless to say, any of you have the right to refuse any task, though this does proclude   you from being rewarded."

The pianist, all business through her speech, reclines slightly, getting more comfortable as an elegant smirk grows on her face. As she finds her new and consummately more appealing position, the door opens behind Miles and Spencer, and an offputtingly tan wiry man enters, about which the Pianist seems immensely pleased.

"Ah, you join us at last. I understand navigating London must be doubly difficult for a surfacer, please, sit! We were just covering your particular assignments". The Pianist's face once again hints at frustration so subtly as to almost seem imagined, and she goes over the details of the agreement in somewhat less detail. Once finished, she grabs the document and plants her thumb on one of four strange, looping symbols that seem to cause slight vertigo when looked at. They are swirls of shapes and lines, bordered with dots and spikes, and are uniform except for the one that has been thumbed, which is slightly larger and significantly more intricate.

"The Correspondence, for you who might be unaware, is a very real and very poorly understood sort of magic in the Neath. Place your thumb on the three uniform marks, if you please. Those simply guarantee that a breach in the contract by you results in immediate termination of said contract. Mine, as ordered by our Benefactor, guarantees my permenant death if I or the Benefactor break the contract without reason. A matter of security, and hopefully one that will give you some piece of mind that our Benefactor has only the best in store for all of us."

She slides the paper back over, and waits for either questions or descending thumbs with equal eagerness.