[hr][hr][h3][b][i][color=ec008c][center]Margarete O'Bryon[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
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[b][color=ec008c]Location:[/color][/b] Dodge Brothers' office, Gamwell Massachusetts. 
[b][color=ec008c]Hit Points: 13  Sanity Points: 46 Luck: 75[/color][/b]
[b][color=ec008c]Mental State: Sane[/color][/b]
[b][color=ec008c]Skill: [/color][/b]
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	The heavy footfalls that could be heard as Margarete stepped into the office could be mistaken for heavy combat boots to an untrained ear. In actuality, they were a nice, well built, durable, and very solid dress flats. Her determined stepped and her shear size had put a lot of force into each and every step. Each step more sure of itself than the last. Stepping into the office, it was much what one could expect from Lawyers. It was organized. Enough so at least. There were things that could have been done better, but nothing her eyes had locked onto. But she was on guard. When she had stepped out of her vehicle she had taken note of who she presumed were the Dodge brothers looking down on her. Three of them. She couldn't read their facial expressions from this distance. But she also knew that they were here to get the same job done. Though, she feared ulterior motives. Though without any reasonable suspicion she would not need to go at this like they were at ends. But she needed to keep enough control of the situation so that way anyone thinking of trying anything would think twice about it. She did debate taking her grandfather's service revolver with her. But she also worried that would send the wrong message. She wanted to be imposing, not intimidating. She was here as an intellectual, not a hired gun. So she'd leave the .45 in the glovebox. She supposed if worse came to worse, there was always the brass knuckles that sat in her purse. 

	Stepping up the stairs made a comparable sound. The heavy footfalls approaching closer and closer to the office as she stepped forward. Stepping into the office, she realized that trying to be imposing without intimidating would be a challenge. Not because there were three of them making it harder, but because they came across as rather timid. She'd need to be careful. But much like herself, they were apart of the intellectual community. Even if Lawyers were... well Lawyers. As Margarete stepped forward to the desk, the brother in the middle had offered his hand to shake. This was already going poorly. She had no idea where this man's hand had been, but there was no one else to shake it. She could reject the gesture. Ignoring how rude such a reply would be it came with other complications. These men came across as men who would buckle the moment she gave a stern tone towards them. She needed to keep things as professional and as civil as possible. That would mean sucking up her pride and touching whatever this man had touched since he last washed his hands. She hoped to god this town had running water. 

	Margarete reached out with her own hands, hiding her reservations and giving a firm handshake before speaking. "[color=ec008c]Gentlemen.[/color]". She spoke in a deep and professional tone. Then she quickly withdrew her hand to straiten her blouse. As well as to subtly rub her hand against her it. She really hoped this town had running water, she would need to do laundry while she was here. She sat in her chair and listened closely as the brothers explained their situation. Making sure to not interrupt, or to miss too many notes. She was far from the best listener though. She had near crippling focusing problems growing up, problems her parents had aggressively hammered out of her with the help of various education systems. But remnants still stayed. 

	As she listened, she took note of Walter seeming to imply she was little more than a tool to be guided. Her smile grew at the comments. She wouldn't mention it though. Maybe he didn't mean it that way? Maybe he actually thought of her that way. It didn't matter. Margarete showing her disdain wouldn't help anyone. Her forced smile would hide that well enough. The job seemed pretty strait forward, but as a whole there was so much still unknown. But that is where the big dollars came in. And if she was lucky, answers. And though she was by far not the smartest lass of the bunch, she had a decent skill for asking questions and collecting information. Even if she couldn't always utilize it. Margarete leaned in on her seat as Walter finished talking. Her emotionless scared face locking onto his almost as if she was a haunting dream. When he did finish speaking she eventually leaned back, seemed to mentally pause a moment as she pondered the situation, the questions asked and the offers given.

	The imposing force of a woman stood, walked to a bookshelf along the side of the room, and swiped her finger across it, pulling off the dust with a hint of annoyance. "[color=ec008c]I'll make this work. But you will need to meet all of my requests. Any that fall short will hinder the investigation.[/color]" She turned back to the brothers, standing tall and proud with her arms behind her back as she spoke. "[color=ec008c]The very first thing I will need are two lists of Mr. Cornthwaite's financial dealings for the last six weeks. One list for anything $50 or more, and the other for everything else.[/color]" She figured the big ticket items would draw be the biggest hints, but she didn't want to leave anything to chance. "[color=ec008c]I will want to know what the transaction was for, when it happened, who was getting paid, the more details the better. If you don't know, mark it so. Unknown is still important information.[/color]" Margarete began pacing across the office, as if walking helped her focus on her thought process, and helped keep her thinker working up to par. As she walked and talked, one of her hands would break free from her grasp behind her back, and seem to go about in front of her and move as she spoke. As if guiding her words as she spoke. "[color=ec008c]As well gentlemen. I will need a record of all known locations for the last month. Days and dates would be best, but if you are unsure, mark it so.[/color]"

	Margarete paused mid stride, her train of thought stumped. She began to look frustrated as she attempted to regain some semblance of a thought process, soon taking a deep breath, and began a mental recap of the points she covered. She took another breath and continued pacing. "[color=ec008c]We will need keys, and a list of all known valuables in the house. If something is missing, or is present we were unaware of, it could be a clue to his location or his thought process before he went missing. As well, any locked doors we should have access too. If we have unobstructed access, I would like to know if we should be concerned finding a room we don't have access towards.[/color]" She paused, remembering the firearms she kept in the car, and remembered how jumpy she would get after she came home from the war. "[color=ec008c]Does Mr. Cornthwaite keep any firearms in his home? I'd like to know if there is a risk of getting shot by a man who thought he was hiding if he gets found in some sort of half hidden room.[/color]" She had gotten better. She still slept with a loaded gun by her side, but she was nowhere near as jumpy as she was when she got home. If this whole thing turned out to be some rich asshole who got spooked into hiding in his basement, Margarete would be thoroughly pissed. She'd still get paid, but she wouldn't get any answers. And crazy loons with guns were very low on her priority list to meet.

	Margarete took another look around the room before looking at the brothers again. "[color=ec008c]And if I were in your shoes, I would hire a maid. This place needs to be touched up. These are no conditions for a professional environment.[/color]" Her tone was serious, but apart of it almost seemed like a desperate plea. "[color=ec008c]How soon can you get everything I requested? I shall be meeting with the others soon enough.[/color]" She could have let them think she was the only one, but alas, apart of her enjoyed keeping and air of mystery about her person.