[img]https://i.imgur.com/OaEgyEU.png[/img]

Once again the door swung open and once again a person entered the warehouse, progressively getting more and more drenched, humid air slipping inside and reaching through all the clothes to clutch at the bones and shiver along them. None was spared from that, Abigail included - she shivered, getting a deeper breath as she rubbed her hands together one against the other in an attempt to produce more heat close to her. 

Marie took of little time to introduce herself and introduce the others with the details of the case on their hands - her words cutting akin to that raining wind slipping through the cracks in the wall, her behavior was just like that dark cloud hanging and looming over them all, pouring water and coating the entire city into the mist of murky gray. Abigail could not help but to feel deep scratching regret for the way things went down and the bitter empathy for the girl who had her life turned upside down in the course of a single night, in the course of a few hours, or minutes even; that empathy demanded Abigail to embrace the girl in the warm comfort, but the girl put the grief around her in shapes of spikes, making it difficult to reach out for her.

The priest put her hand on Marie’s shoulder nonetheless, trying to comfort her somewhat still, while the newcomers took their time to introduce themselves and inspect the papers Marie brought. Montag pulling the bottle out of Marie’s hands and putting it back on the table received a short nod from Abigail, before she turned her attention to other detectives once again.  

[color=f26522]“When ye put it tis way..yes. We’ve all been brought ‘ere together, by some chance some say. Or by something I’ve heard been called “fates”. But…”[/color], Abigail responded to Robyn as the latter noted the amount of people involved in the agency’s life; the priest wanted to add something else to this, but feeling the shoulder of Marie under her hand, she put a soft pause and with a sigh just shrugged, [color=f26522]“..We’re in tis together now, one way or another.”[/color]
Higher purpose she thought. Believed so at least. 

Cathal introducing himself among all of them in a proper manner made Abigail to chuckle - for a second alas as the fellow irish mentioning the trenches of the civil war made priest’s eyes to go dim and covered in some veil once again - though she blinked it away, like an annoying fly who started to buzz somewhere on the back of her head, where silence rested just a moment prior to. It came to silence quick enough again and she raised her eyes up once again, as if nothing bothered her. Instead she reached for the papers and scanned through it.

[color=f26522]“Tis’s not the information as we know it, tis are just fragments”[/color], Abigail said, answering Robyn’s question and following along with what Montag said: [color=f26522]“As miste’ Montag pointed out, tis are but the.. aftermaths.”[/color]. Abigail shifted her glance at Jane, shaking her head a little, [color=f26522]“Tis doesn’t matter, yer lack of experience. As a matter of fact, police’re at the same position. Unknowing. None’s encountered anythin’ like tis. One would say tis’ just a beast lurking, but.. it has too much thinkin’ going on for a beast.”[/color]

While Robyn scanned through the one of the papers, Abigail offered her attention to Cathal once again, giving a few nods to the man as he explained his dreams: [color=f26522]“Then we’ve nothing much to explain to ye. Things’re changing, and faster than we can see. As miste’ Montag said, the public prefers to ignore.. all of tis events. Police’re at halt, they don’t know how to handle it, nobody does.”[/color]
A deep sigh followed once again and the priest raised her eyes on everyone present, as she gathered the thoughts in her mind and the words that would fit for these thoughts: [color=f26522]“I’m sure ye understand what I’m to say. We’ve to fill in. Ain’t nobody else going to. You know it, you’ve seen it. Ain’t gonna be an easy job, but that’s the job that.. that just must be done. To help us, ourselves, these people.”[/color]

After that short speech, Abigail once again looked at the detectives, a blank paper note put onto the table to put the information accordingly - one coming from Cathal specifically: 

[color=f26522]“No trouble ‘ere. I know of some people who tend to be the clients of folks like you mention, so that ain’t a surprise for me. What ye say though is very important.. we’d really need to check tis, his agenda, tis band of his.. I think it’d be a good way for ye to form a team and investigate the connections, meanwhile I an-”[/color]

Before she could finish speaking though, a loud knocking appeared on the front door of the warehouse - surprised clearly as she was not expecting anyone else, Abigail stood up and approached the door which opened wide before she even reached it: a giant man with as giant hands, drenched wet from the rain as the drops fell from his simple working clothes, eyebrows and ears perking slightly on the bald head, gave a somewhat clumsy bow to everyone present as he entered: 


“Miss Abigail! Mister Montag! Bad, very bad thing happened!”
Kaspar, the dock worker, another immigrant who came from the country that lost its original shape on the maps of Europe after the conclusion of the Great war, spoke in a deeply low, but contrastfully gentle tone, panting heavily, as he pointed with his massive hand at the direction somewhere outside. 
“You told me to tell you if something wicked happens. And it is very wicked! At the bar..! The man was… I think ripped apart, blood all around! And his guts! This is some devilry!”, the giant man said, crossing himself.

Abigail blinked a few times, gasping at yet another realization that some consequences were in fact too coincidental to be just some random chance. She could swear she got used to it, but it took her like that every time. 

[color=f26522]“Calm yeself down, Kaspar. Wha’ happened?”[/color], Abigail asked, inviting the big man inside, for all the detectives to have a good look on him, as he awkwardly bowed again and sat down on a crate. 

“Some devilry..! I don’t even know how to..!”, the big man took a deep breath. It seemed some more direct questions would work better.