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"I just hope that no one that knows me recognizes me," Louis says with a chuckle as he examines himself in a looking glass that Evie has provided. "My pride would never make a recovery." He then heads out to scrounge up whatever tidbits of information regarding the Fist's doings.
Arriving at the out-of-the-way dive tavern that had been agreed upon to be their meeting place, Louis quickly scans the room before joining his compatriots at the corning table they'd claimed. Once the requisite drink had been ordered, he lowers his voice and brings the others up to date on what he'd learned. "So there's a good chance that Abigail is the 'redhead' that they're holding there," he concludes. "So now we need to decide how we're going to retrieve her without creating too much of a disturbance and shedding copious amounts of blood - more specifically, ours or Abigail's."
Lion's Den: "It appears that you have the advantage of me, Miss Sariel," Louis replies with a conciliatory nod of his head. "If you'll tell me where to find this book, then I will see to it that it arrives in your hands." He gazes around the simply appointed room. "And I would imagine that to keep up appearances, I should stay here for an appropriate amount of time." He smiles. "We wouldn't want anyone to think that I was here for nefarious reasons, now would we?" He loosens the collar of his shirt. "Now what shall we do to occupy our time?"
"Pimping me out, Miss Vale?" Louis questions with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "I hope she at least offers me a nice dinner." His expression turning more serious. "Hopefully, she at least has a peanut or two to lead us further along into this rabbit hole."
"Oh, Miss Vale," Louis replies with a smirk. "'Shy' has never been a word used to describe my sensibilities ... until you, of course." He considers the subject. "But while I may personally feel that Ladies and Gentlemen of Companionship should carry a vaulted position in society, my opinion is not shared with the majority of those in power and influence. So while they may partake of such company in secret, they denigrate and belittle those who do so openly. And until society is changed for the better in that regard, we must be circumspect in how we interact with such people."
"Of course it's a brothel," Louis says with a sigh. He considers the possible fallout. "We need to be discreet about this. To be publicly seen visiting such a place will only give our enemies a weapon to use against us." He thinks a little longer. "Could we arrange to meet this Miss Sariel somewhere other than her workplace?"
Louis also elaborates on the 'nice rug merchants' that were seen leaving Abigail's flat and the likely probability that the halfling was wrapped in the soiled rug they were happy to dispose of. "It looks like we may have to venture into the no-man's land of the Tamuth district," he concludes. "Does anyone have any contacts in that neighborhood?"
Louis looks over the badge carefully. "I'm sure I've seen something like this before, but I just can't place it," he says with a frown.
"Well, it appears that our Merry Maid, Miss Abigail is no wilting violet," Louis declares with satisfaction, kneeling down and pulling a blooded dagger out from under the bed. "She clearly got in a few jabs before they managed to cart her off." His eyes search the room for any more clues. "Perhaps someone in the building heard or saw something?" he questions with growing concern. "We should ask around."
"He is convinced that the letter writer has someone and it doesn't appear to be Miss Olivia," Louis replies, his eyes turning to the stool where Abigail normal reigns from. "So it's a fair assumption that it could be our missing hostess." He turns back to Melenae. "It is only an assumption and may prove incorrect, but we don't know which assumptions are true and which are false until we delve into them deeper."
Louis nods at the information. This would lead one to assume a number of things, but in politics one never assumes that one has all the facts. Someone is always adding another angle. "I'm going to see if I can find out where Miss Abigail resides," he says, also taking to his feet.
"Ten thousand gold is quite a bit of coin and not one easily arranged on such short notice," Louis replies after considering it for a moment or two. "I'll have to see what I can do. I'd much rather we stop the source of the story, though. Even if we pay, there's nothing keeping them from asking for twenty the next time." Another thought seems to occur to him. "We should also get on the other side of this. Is there anyone else they might have contacted that is less likely to be able to pay? Someone that would have something to lose?" He holds Trand's eye. "Is there someone else we should make sure is safe and not talking?"
Louis nods distractedly, his eyes still on the doorway through which Trand exited. "Hiding something, yes," he murmurs. Turning to the others, his smile returns. "So why don't you ladies pay a visit to the Merry Maid while I have a more private conversation with our nervous Councilor." --- Catching up with Councilor Trand, Louis gives the man a friendly smile. "Nasty business, eh?" he says in a conspiring voice. "A fellow can't get out and have a bit of fun without some nosy-body spoiling it all. I mean what we do in our private life should be left private - we are men of the world, are we not?" He meets the man's eyes with a knowing gaze.
Louis follows along over Melenae's shoulder as she reads the letter aloud. "Someone has way too much time on their hands and an overly developed sense of the dramatic," he says once she's finished. He turns to Trand. "We'll take care of this - there's no need to panic," he says in a calming voice. "Let's start with simplicity; Who, specifically, recommended this particular tavern to you?"
Louis turns to the dark-haired woman and shifts almost instantly into business. "If there's no question of the vote passing, then there must be something else that's caused our normally non-plussed councilor to interrupt our relaxed morning. We shouldn't attempt to manufacture problems in our own mind when he'll quite likely lay it out for us quite clearly."
"Gossip? Gossip?!" Louis declares, one hand fluttering to his chest. "You wound me, my dear Evvie. To suggest that I would give credence to spuriously whispered words." He shakes his head. "Gossip," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "I deal in facts, my lady. Verifiable facts." He feigns looking over his shoulder before returning his attention to the listening ladies. "And I did pick up some juicy facts last night." He grins. "Lord Mashton's son managed to corner me last night when I escaped the esteemed Miss Giggles on the pretext of tending to urgent needs. Not the older son, the younger one with the blue eyes that a feeling soul could simply get lost in." He frowns in annoyance. "I can never remember his name for some reason. Anyway ... He let casually slip that Maestro Fili may be on the outs with a number of the greater families." Maestro Fili is a renowned hairdresser who's star has been on the rise with those of the prestigiously concerned crowd. "Blue-eyes has been spending time with the Maestro's apprentice who is quite worried about his future as hairdresser to the elite." Louis' lip curls up into a crooked grin. "I know for a fact that the Maestro has been on the receiving end of countless confessions and confidences. With his image suffering, he might be willing to share some of that privileged information in exchange for cleaning up his reputation and turning his outing back into an ... inning?" The young man's brow furrows as he considers the appropriateness of the word. "Anyway, that's what I learned last night."
Louis pulls his hand back and holds them both up in mock surrender. "I concede. But I take it as a personal affront that none of you lovely ladies have accepted my offer for an evening of pleasurable entertainment. That doesn't mean I won't stop offering, but my enthusiasm is suffering." His smile belies his affected affront and Louis takes a sip of his drink then stands up to gaze over the dainties on offer by their host.
"Being a patron to our councilor is more than sufficient for me," Louis replies with a sigh. "And you're teasing me now, aren't you, Evvie? Because every time I've asked you to join me for an evening's entertainment, you've found something else more important to occupy your time." He reaches out and lightly brushes a hand along a strand of her hair with an equally playful grin. "Although, for all the times you've used the excuse of having to wash your hair, it is rather lustrous."
"I'm sure the show was a riot," Louis declares, entering the room with a long stride. His destination clear - the drink cart. "Unfortunately, I was in the company of the ever annoying young Miss Sandarlesko, and her constant, inane giggling keep me on edge enough that I didn't follow anything at all on stage." He pours himself a double shot of dwarven rum and downs it in two swallows. Behavior quite unusual for the normally sedate young man. "I swear that the Dame Sandarlesko plans to have her daughter wed to me before spring." He shakes his head and sighs. "Oh, the trials I suffer for the esteemed Councillor Trand." Pouring a lesser amount into the glass, he takes a seat at the table and turns a smile to the ladies present. "So what were you doing last night, Miss Westora?" he asks with a wink. |
