The Gabby Gambler's approach was initially cut short by the nearby special constable stepping before him and placing a hand on his shoulder, preparing to turn the masked man away, but the hooded individual at the hookah cut such an attempt short. "No, let him. He wants to take a few steps in this dance, he will be allowed to do so", Mr. Spices gave their permission for the 'intruder' to step forth. It required no more than that for the dutiful assistant to make way, excusing their earlier behaviour quickly. But by that point, most had already lost their interest in the man.

Lady Monica at least was much more interested in the approaching figure. New blood among their ranks, huh? And was this not the man who had been hopping around the dance floor with her good friend? Yes, that had to be him. The parasol was tilted slightly to the side to allow her to see the person better. One of the older blood, probably. Rough around the edges, if she had to put in a guess. Right up Renee's alley for acquaintances, not quite for further company if she knew her friend. She might ask if the other woman had picked up any interesting tidbits about this individual, that was to be sure. But for now, others did have a few words for the Master just as well.

One after another declared their continued interest in the case, or perhaps now introduced? How they could not have seen something quite like that was up and coming with an invitation much like theirs was a mystery to her, but one could not be blessed with everything. They had... initiative, as Mr. Spices had put it. They did not have tact or other forms of social intelligence if she had to guess, not like 'Arthur'. Or not. That man was not exactly the most shining example of them either. Oh, one was now even suggesting that they would get to work right away. Naturally. That was what was going to happen. Without them listening to the rest of what Mr. Spices had to say. Good one. The Master would not still be around if they were wholly done, now would they?

And as the poet had mused, the Master spoke up again: "The Royal Beth. That is where the last known lodging of the agent is. Since then, any attempts to reach them have been... unsuccessful. The Manager refuses their assistance, which is peculiar on its own. The Mahogany Hall. The Agent was working on... sensitive matters relating to said location. If more could be told, it would. But there are certain borders that one must cross on their own to truly understand." With that, Mr. Spices began climbing to its feet and moving towards the exit. "You may yet become fists of the Bazaar. But do know that there will be no indiscretions beyond what a neddy man would see." Of course, that meant pretty much nothing. Other than being able to whack rioting dock workers on the head with a stick while constables nodded approvingly.

Of course, Lady Monica was rather disappointed in the fact they would be treated so lowly, if the case truly was this special. Was it less so than what was made to be understood? Or might the Bazaar want to keep their involvement less visible? The latter sounded likely. And mayhaps, just a possibility and a bit of spitballing there, once the deed would be done they would gain the more favourable position. To be the fist of the Bazaar, whatever that was. If that was not simply something that they called undercover agents such as these. She might have to look into it.

She took another breath from the hookah before setting the mouthpiece away and having a look at the other participants. "Now that sounds like a predicament. How do you propose we approach this subject?" she asked of her apparent compatriots. Again, give the word to others first, see how they think, not influenced by the thoughts of another. And as far as she could tell, they were not in any real hurry either. The constables at the door did not seem interested in letting anyone out, spare for the Master who seemed only happy to have moved away from their rival.

[@Sofaking Fancy][@Gordian Nought][@Templar Knight][@Mortarion]