DeadDrop
Jangel13
Saz01
sly13
Blaze Gamma
Vampiretwilight
𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞
Ａ Ｎｅｗ Ｌｅａｆ Ｃａｆé
Isabel wasn’t nervous. Nervousness was something doubters felt and she wasn’t a doubter. With absolute resolve she strode out into Seattle, fresh off a nighttime flight from DC. She still had her luggage in tow. Lesser people would feel exhausted. They would be searching for their hotel room to stash their things. Not Isabel. She had vastly more important things to do and nothing – especially not petty things like sleep or discomfort – would hold her back right now.
With high heels clicking off the pavement she eventually made her way to A New Leaf. A quaint little café. One too quant for Isabel. It all looked too flowery, too nice. A friend – a very resourceful one – had suggested the location. It was far enough out of town that she didn’t risk bumping into her father accidentally. “It will do I suppose.” Isabel sighed to herself as she stepped in, luggage still in tow.
She took a seat and ordered a coffee. Black, with one sugar. Isabel wasn’t about to entertain the hipster ridiculousness of the locale. From her luggage, she pulled a manila envelope and put it on the table. Ready to be passed on to Mr. Wolff – had to be an alias, the accomplished P.I. a mutual friend highly recommended. She only ever gave him an address and her name. If he was as good as people claimed he’d have no issue finding her amongst the people at the café.
Hati had been waiting at this dinky coffee shop for what felt like hours. Rising with the sun wasn't something he was particularly used to, before the fall, but after? It was the best time to people watch. Scope out their mannerisms. Find weaknesses. It became a new sort of normal for the moon hater. Though he still absolutely enjoyed being surrounded by the cover of night and the light of the moon, he found a sense of... peace in these early hours to himself.
Today was no different. Well, it was, but it wasn't. A luncheon had been set for the start of the Festival and he was expected to make an appearance. However, this new life of his demanded his attention for a new case. Something about it stuck out to him and piqued his interest more so than he cared to admit. But money was money, and if he wanted to be able to blow it at Tlazōlteōtl's club, he was gonna have to piss off a queen or two.
As he sat there, drinking his black coffee, he took notice of those that milled about the place. It was out of the way enough for him to be cautious yet casual. The owners and management had a working agreement with the bounty hunter. He can conduct meetings here, complete with free coffee and a fresh Danish or two, so long as every month he checks their security systems to make sure they're up to date and protected. A win-win in the wolf's book.
So far, in the three hours he'd been there since opening, Hati clocked a total of eight new faces waltzing in and out of the doors. It was the ninth body to walk through that his senses were heightened. Just her aura alone was enough to get the wisp of hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. Hati's sharp gaze never left them, even as two more people followed in behind her.
He gazed at her, over the top of his cup, as she ordered and then sat down, three tables from him, a manila folder presented professionally before her. Grabbing his drink, he stood slowly, so as to not scare a deer while on the hunt, stretching slightly from being stuck in a position for too long. 'No time like the present,' and with that he strolled casually on by the beauty, placing a large hand atop the file and sliding it to the seat opposite her; plopping himself right back down in the process.
"Mornin' doll. You my," he checked his watch nonchalantly, "8 o'clock?" Of course she was. He wouldn't be this alert if she wasn't. Something was clearly different about her scent. Something... immortal and godly about her. Though he would have recognized her had Hati seen her traipsing around the Acropolis or among the friends of Zagreus and Pothos. He would get to the bottom of it sooner or later. This meeting should be testament to that.
“My name is Miss Markov. Not. Doll.” Isabel said without skipping a beat. Her eyes were transfixed o on his. She was used to cocky people like most P.I.’s were. As the envelope moved she kept her own hand on it. Her other hand was still around the cup of hot coffee. Then she let her gaze go over him quite openly. He was young. Way too young. There was no way that he was former police like most P.I.’s were. Nor could he have any meaningful military career. Maybe a tour or two at the most. Already she began to doubt his capabilities. If he didn’t come so highly accredited by their mutual friend she would’ve up and left after his first few spoken words already.
“And I hope you can be more professional than you appear right now, Mr. Wolff.” She added, throwing him the fakest, most forced smile she could summon on her lips. “Or should I start taking off zeroes from the cheques I’ll write?” So far she wasn’t impressed and she didn’t hide it.
She was a pistol. All business, no fun. This was going to be thrilling. But Hati resigned himself to a calmer approach, instead the snapping bark he could feel making it's way from the back of his throat. He forgets how easily mortals and gods alike get offended. Straightened his posture and released his hand from the folder, raising them in a non threatening, defensive way. "Forgive me, Miss Markov. It's been a long 72 hours," his tone smoother, yet more approachable, and as if to punctuate the validity of the statement he ran his fingers through his hair; a habit he picked up from watching mortals interact with one another. Supposedly it helps put others at ease in times of mistrust and anxiety.
"Before we discuss payment methods and costs, how 'bout you tell me a little bit more 'bout this folder of yours?" Hati tapped the object between them before sipping his drink.
Isabel couldn’t care if it’s been a long life, she wanted results. Professionals got them and his attitude hadn’t convinced her yet. Her eyes narrowed as he moved his hands through his hair. Normal people would start feeling at ease as he straightened his act. However, if you were conscious of such facts then you could use it to manipulate the other side. Isabel knew this because she did it herself. So her guard didn’t drop.
She didn’t forgive him. Isabel – nor the people she worked with and for – never had time for forgiveness. If you screwed it was all on you. You fixed it and moved on. If you screwed up too often then you were moved on. “The trunk of the tree whose roots and branches I want you to find.” She answered curtly, before taking a drink of her own coffee. Letting him wait on an explanation. When she put the cup back down most of the coffee was still in the cup.
“In the envelope you’ll find information on a man. I want you to find his family. Siblings, parents, grandparents,-“ She stopped for a moment. Then finally said the word “-children.” During the whole flight it was a thing she knew she’d hate: to entertain the thought that he had more children than just her. “Their name, and address if they’re alive. Their grave if they’re not. For each name you bring me I’ll pay.” And with that she released her hold over the envelope to let Mr. Wolff take it.
Hati let loose a long, low whistle at the job she had broached. It was a lot. He'd done more in a shorter time frame. He's also done less in more. Cryptic messages and the like was something he'd expect from his aunt Hel, or any other immortal with divinity ties. This chick was another one of those. Hati didn't even hide his eye roll at her mysterious message. What he didn't care for is to be ordered around by someone so… inferior to him. Well, being ordered around in general rubbed him wrong. As soon as she opened her mouth to bark out orders, that facade he put up fell completely and Hati felt the need to bite back.
"Ah yes," his tone shifted, as did his body language. A quick revert back to its original state. Laid back yet ready to rip throats should he need to. "Well, looks like loverboy left a good one. Look, I'm not entirely sure what our mutual friend has told you, but I hunt for people and sweetheart, this doesn't seem challenging enough for me… find out a mark's familial relations? Seriously?" Hati eyed the folder beneath his fingertips. He couldn't shake that feeling from her. Other than she reminded him of Sekhmet, and not in a good way, he felt compelled to at least view the file.
He’s a bounty hunter, not a private investigator. Hati hunts people. Tracks them down and arrests them, collecting on a sum of money that was placed there on the board for him to see. He doesn’t look up genealogy on targets and pass information from one person to another. That was out of his wheelhouse. Hati would much rather prefer the actual chasing of a victim prey culprit.
Though as he sat there, halfheartedly listening to the annoying, albeit beautiful, woman in front of him he couldn’t help but consider his options. On the one hand, did he need the money? No, not really. His funds were well stocked and easily accessible to him at a moment's notice. So, to not take this particular job wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. However, her reaching out to him first due to some mysterious “friend” piqued his interest in the most paranoid of ways and if they were to suggest him it must mean something… more. Not to mention, Miss Markov seemed to be extremely adamant and passionate about this case in particular. She didn’t emulate a weak-willed mortal. It would be a shame to see such a pretty face sob uncontrollably at his pant leg and get him covered in snot. Hati shuddered at the mental image.
Before she had a chance to take back the folder, he quickly swiped it up and flipped through it with a glance. It was all he needed, seeing as the only information provided was a name, basic facts - estimated height, hair color etc. - and a charming photograph of the woman before him and a very, very familiar face. ‘Oh~? This is shaping up to be an intriguing case.’ Closing the dossier immediately, a wolfish grin spread across his face.
"On second thought. This case, based purely on the limited information you've provided, will provide the perfect challenge, Miss Markov."
Well, at the very least he learned a little respect. That had to count for something. She did suppress rolling her eyes when he called her father ‘loverboy’. I just felt wrong. Though she kept it to herself. This wasn’t the first time she was being underestimated. That would allow her to come out hard when she needed to. Though the way people talked down to her – much how Mr. Wolff here did right now – never sat comfortably with her. A frown formed on her face. She was ready to just grab the envelope and head for another contact she had. Someone older, with some police experience and manners. Her feet already moved under her chair, ready to get up and leave when he suddenly took the envelope. It didn’t contain anything a half-decent investigator couldn’t find on his own. Still, the way he so quickly took it put Isabel even more on edge.
Him suddenly changing his mind didn’t help with that. It did confirm her suspicion: her father was a known figure in some circles. Perhaps his family was involved in some less than savory business? It wouldn’t surprise her. Either way, she got what she wanted. Now it was time to bind him to her. From her luggage, she pulled another envelope and put it on the table. It was small but thick. “That’s 5K as an advance.” She said. Then she conjured up another envelope. This one was literally double the thickness. That one she kept in her hand though. “This is 10K. You’ll get it if you drop any other cases you’re working on. I want your full attention for this, Mr. Wolff. Can you give me that?”
Ten thousand? Just for information on someone among them. Not just someone. A war god. A harbinger of destruction and loss. Hati would be lying if he said he didn't admire the being; from a distance of course. However, the consequences of investigating Ares would have to be dealt with when he gets to them. At the moment he could think of, at a bare minimum, five thousand reasons he should delve deeper into the man.
"I can assure you, Miss Markov, nothing else will take precedence over this case here. I guarantee you that much at the least." Hati was most likely in over his head. Granted there weren't many other cases for him to chase at the moment. Specifically because he carved out time for the Festival, spending time with those he hasn't seen in a year. It's not like she would know whether he was working every minute of every day.
She was underestimating him and that would be her biggest mistake. Dabbling in things she didn't know, shouldn't know. But hey, it wasn't his business to warn the mortals of their impending doom. Just sit back and watch it happen.
Hati leaned forward, shifting in his seat to make himself more comfortable, his coffee sat there long forgotten. "How would you like to receive the information I collect? An all at once type of situation or would you like me to update you with every little thing?" Eyes like fire trapped under ice shine with the morning Ray's filtering in through the windows as he scanned her appearance one more time, along with the bags she carried with her. "Is it safe to assume you'll be in town a while? Or…?" He gestured for a response.
“I’ll be around.” She gave him a small, disingenuous smile as she put down the second envelope for Mr. Wolff to take. In the end they were all same. She kept eye contact for a second and played a game she liked: imagine the bill. What would he be spending 15.000 dollars on? He definitely wasn’t going to invest it. If he was bad at his job he’d waste it all partying. That would have to be verified, so she’d have to find the biggest party place in this god-forsaken city. If he was better than average he’d use it to get the info quickly and secretly. That money should be used for bribes.
With a deft hand she conjured up a card from her wallet and put it on the table. On it was a number and an e-mail address looking like that of a bot. But before she continued she took another long, drawn-out sip of her coffee. Just to establish – again – that he was waiting on her. That he couldn’t leave here until she let him. She cherished these little moments. But she wasn’t about to push it. “Keep me updated.” She said after the sip. “Send the info – any info – you find to the e-mail address. If it’s satisfactory you’ll get your 10K wired. And don’t worry, I have your bank number already.” Courtesy of their mutual friend.
Hati had to bite his tongue. He should be used to being treated as a dog, didn't hurt any less. More so even because here was this human dangling treats before him expecting him to do tricks. And it irked him. But it was held back, especially as their table was approached by a familiar face.
"Ah-hem," A woman stepped beside the table, a soft smile on her features as Persephone got the attention of the two at the table. One she recognized as Hati of the Norse pantheon, someone she'd only seen in passing, but the dark haired woman was unrecognizable. Date? No, seemed too cold. Business? Perhaps, it was Hati after all. "I'm sorry to intrude but there's an event I need to get to." She looked at Hati, knowing that the god would understand. "I hope if you do come next time that you will be able to enjoy yourself for longer." She subtly took a step to the side, showing the now empty parlor around them. Chairs had been stacked on tables and counters wiped down, all ready for closing.
He quickly snatched the card up from the table, along with the envelope of money and tucked them away into his back pocket. Since there was no more reason for him to stay he patted the tabletop in a mismatched rhythm, "Welp. It's been real. You'll hear from me," and with that he stood, stretched and half assed saluted her as he made his way out the shop and into the morning light of Seattle. Planning to show up to the luncheon wasn't on his list for the day but after his morning, someone else's chaos would do wonders to lift his spirit.
Isabel just took a deep sigh. She looked at her coffee cup. It was still half full and steaming. Well, she did just fly through the night. With one gulp she downed the coffee, dropped 20 dollars on the table, and got up. Not once did she smile at the person asking her to leave so she could close up. While walking out of the café she pulled out her phone and dialed a number. It went straight to voicemail.
“I better not have wasted my money on him. You know how much finding my family means.”
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