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[right][b]Conors Room / Edge Tower / Seattle[/b]
[sup][b]19:00HRS Local Time[/b][/sup][/right]

Conor had cursed as the lights had went out, grabbing a nearby candle he ran his hand up it. His fingers crossing over a number of symbols as the room lit up in a way far brighter than a candle had any right to be. He turned to look back at the mirror and recoiled in disgust. The face he had been wearing beforehand had become all warped, his nose had become waxy and began to melt as his cheeks dropped. His mouth was half in a smile and a thrown as his eyes seemed to be slowly enroaching on what was formerly forehead territory though now looked more like raw scalp. Lord knows where his ears had gotten too. He sighed as he reached beneath his shirt to a collar he was wearing around his neck, pressing two symbols near his collarbone. The fake face melted away collapsing into the collar revealing his true face. Reasonably charming, if he said so himself. He sighed as he looked into his own eyes. 

[i]She always loved your eyes.[/i]

He chastised himself for the stray thought and returned to his desk, unclipping the collar and returning it to the desk. Something was going wrong, the image held for the first couple of minutes but then after that it just seemed to fail. He pulled on his glasses, pulling the loupe down to get a closer look at the runes, looking between them and the ones on scrolls and his notes. He cursed as he noticed a few minor imperfections. It was entirely possible that they were the cause of the problems, as by all other counts the facade should be holding up perfectly. Leaning back in the chair he pushed his hands up over his eyes covering the, pushing his glasses up onto his hair. As his back stretched he let out a groan in frustration. 

Working on the facade for weeks, the espionage capabilities aside they would lessen the worry of his photo being taken whenever one of their [i]subtle[/i] tasks became less so. As if his photo was taken then it wouldn't be his face plastered everywhere but one of his own fabrication. Picking up the collar he opened one of the many drawers on his desk and threw it in. Standing up he stamped his foot near the front of his desk, kicking a symbol and the candle raised into the air. Following him over his left shoulder as he walked around the room. Other people had entertainment centres, tvs and sofas. Meanwhile Conor had a miniature library full of old tomes, a couple of sophisticated chairs and his desk. Almost every tome in here was older than he was, with the exception of his own notes and the couple of books he bought for CeCe so she had something to read during her visits.

Running hands over the spines of the books some were paperbound, others leather or cloth, some were stranger materials like wood and even one of stone. Recoiling slightly as the lights came back on as suddenly as they had went out, he flicked the bottom of the candle and it returned to its resting space on his desk. No smaller than it had been before. His phone vibrated in his pocket, pulling it out he stuck his thumb between the two halfs and flipped it open revealing the text.

[I've found someone with a copy of what you want. Will give you an update when I have more.]

Smiling as he walked out into the hall, he worked his way to the kitchen. Each room may have its own kitchenette however there was always good odds that Eilidh had a pot of tea on the go. Walking into the kitchen he smiled as he saw her working away with the kettle. 

"What's the craic Eilidh?" He slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Grabbing a mug he slid it over to her as he grabbed himself a cookie, taking a bite off it as he allowed her to fill his mug just the way he liked it.