Where Have The Good Days Gone (Private. Possible Maturity)

(Oh wow. I forgot this was here)

Sam chuckled under his breath after the instinctive reach for the stones, thinking that she reached for them because he had any kind of interest in the stones themselves, "I've been around. Maybe I could help you navigate any space I might be familiar with. Maybe take some heat off you if things get a little too warm." He didn't seem to move his gaze directly from her eyes, even with the brief motion to the stones, "If you want me to tag along, I won't ask for much. I don't need much, just enough to keep me going about. Lived the life of unnecessary opulence, I don't need it now." His breathing and eye contact remained stable, almost looking completely stationary while he gave his sales pitch, "So, where are they telling you to go?" He muttered speaking in regard to the stones in the box.

Morrigan found herself wondering if the Enforcers were gender inclusive. Not that the Vallen were, for the people that patrolled the Roma lands were all female, the Order entirely populated by those of Roma descent. When the stones were brought up, her right hand instinctively reached out, her fingertips resting against the briefcase that had held them. When she had listened to that old man when he came into her office before, she had gotten a strange sense of deja vu and now that they were in front of her, and she could touch them, it was obvious. The suitcase afforded protect from outside magic, from the Stones, but when she touched it... she could feel the suppressed energy. “It would be foolish to try and handle a job like this, on unfamiliar territory....”

Sam in turn chuckled at her acknowledgement of his sense of humor, "Oh. He just knows better. Don't have anything personal against them so long as they don't do anything ridiculous or stupid." He stopped in his tracks the moment that he heard about a caravan attacked and ravaged by an uprising, "Well. It's not exactly how I'd prefer to learn a lesson." Thankful for the change in topic he let a shrub prop up his shoulders, "So long as you make the cut then you're good to go."

He let the conversation pass before leaning forward and simply looking at Morrigan over his folded hands, "So. Those stones. Are you possibly looking for some assistance? Never know what kind of mess you might climb into dealing with those. And my schedule is pretty open."

Morrigan chuckled behind a hand at how he called the orc out like that. "You have a strange sense of humor. Though, I wouldn't see you in less of a light if you have something against orcs." She shifted in her seat, feeling her gun nestled closely to her right thigh. "One of our sister caravans were ravaged during the uprising. They continue to use it as a lesson for those young ones who are too trusting." Hearing him list out how many there were, she gave a slightly impressed look. "Quite the inclusive group, I see."

Sam arched a brow at the mention that he was going to survive, specifically at the mention of 'after that moment'. Perhaps some sort of magic talk he wasn't familiar with, might make sense later but not as important at this moment, "No surname? Not exactly the strangest thing I've heard of. Can't say I know too much about any Roma. Aside from that, a pleasure to meet you Morrigan." He tapped the table a couple times while he took in her question and thought of a way to word it, "Best way I can describe it, Enforcers are who the police call when they can't handle something. Like say an orc uprising, " He turned his head and called out to the one behind the kitchen line, "Isn't that right Vinnie?!" The called out making the orc duck his head down with a sudden door slam in the back room after he scrambled out, "Probably about a couple hundred of us throughout the city, a few thousand nationwide. Got everything from vamps, wolfmen, and anything else you'll probably see in a good fairy tale."

Morrigan smiled faintly at him, feeling the chain carefully wrapped around her upper left arm warming, letting her knowing that this man was less human than she is. Hearing what he thought about what might happen to the old man, she shrugged lightly, taking another drag from her cigarette. "Oh, he will survive. What happens after that moment is a mystery to me. Really wish I could See that." She looked at him when he finally introduced himself, and she smiled faintly, using her free hand to shake the offered hand to her. "Nice to finally know who you are, Mr. Westwood. My name is Morrigan. No surname. Roma don't traditionally have last names." Tapping off the ashes on her cigarette and putting it out, she folded her arms on the table. "We patrol our own lands in the Carpathian Mountains. Care to tell me exactly what the Enforcers do."

(bump?)

The gentleman let out a small chuckle at the mention that she wasn't necessarily human, maybe some wards or spells masked whatever she was from his senses, "Good to hear. You'd be surprised of all the people I've heard of that either lost themselves or were hunted down by the many beasts out there." A grin curled up on his lip shortly after, "I'm sure that if he isn't going to be disemboweled in the next couple hours he might, but if he does survive then I'm sure he's bad news." There was a moment that he stayed somewhat silent aside front a light tapping of his toe to the floor, "Sam by the way. Sam Westwood. Local Enforcer." He added in offering a hand to shake, "Figured you'd want to know about the guy that's been listening in on your little conversation."

Morrigan re-lit the cigarette she had been smoking earlier, resting her right elbow in her left hand and her eyes closed. She wasn't worried a bit when one would think she would be. Fortunately for her her chest, stomach and back were protective Romani runes. They would burn anyone who attacked her with deliberate malicious intent. Opening one eye when the man sat down, she released the smoke she had been holding in, blowing it off to the side. She smiled faintly, tapping her ashes into a small tray in front of her. "I'm not necessarily human, so yes. I do know about the Stones. I did my own research on that man. If my hunch is correct, he will not be getting the Stones."

The old man jumped up as though about to argue with the idea that Morrigan would even suggest that she leave something as important as his job if things got too dangerous. That outrage was quelled by the red glint in her eyes where he picked himself up from his seat, "Fine, but don't expect me to give you any kind of good word if you don't come back with the entire set." He added, leaving the suitcase on the table as he took his steps outside.

Once the bell jingled the older man's exit, the middle-aged gentleman let out a sigh before picking himself up from his booth, "Vinnie. Close the shop for a few minutes." The voice came out in a baritone with no implied threat. The gentleman took a coupled of steps to bring himself to Morrigan's booth. He waited for the orc that was previously behind the serving line lock the door with a very audible click that sounded out throughout the diner. The silence grew so deafening at that point that even the sound of the man shifting his feet on the polished floor echoed throughout the room, "If you're going to talk about an artifact as powerful as those stones you might want to talk a little more quiet than that." He seated himself across from Morrigan. It didn't seem like he had any sort of weapon on him, but it was likely he didn't need one, "So, what's a dame like you doing to get in a mess with that? Please tell me you've at least heard some stories about them?"

Morrigan caught sight of the look the guy gave her without looking from the man in glasses. She made a slow gesture with her left hand's fingers, her fingertips slowly tapping on the tabletop. Her own eyes sparked with a dark red color, a slight smirk on her face. She sat back a little, mulling over the bespectacled man's words. "I will do this. But know that it may not end in the way you want it to. This artifact does indeed attract... others. The only thing I have left to say: I will not give away my life for this. If it comes to it, I will return the stones to you and back out of the job. I will keep the half of the money I have been given, and you will find someone else." She wanted this conversation to be over with. The man in that other booth had the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

The older gentleman briefly pushed his glasses up into the bridge of his nose when his shaking seemed to make them drift, "I suppose you should know. I only have two of the seven, and there's the matter of the things that they attract." There was an extreme air of disdain at the word and its meaning, "I need you to help me find the other five. The stones themselves will guide you. Just bring them to all to me and I can use their magic to give you anything you desire. Money, power, the affection of the people. All of it is yours. I just need them all."

It was at this point the middle aged gentleman made it less than subtle that he was listening to them talking. A single eye glaring over the old man's shoulder and to Morrigan. His eye tagged to almost shine with a golden light for a second before turning back to an icy blue that felt like it could pierce through her soul.

Morrigan let out a low sigh as she lowered the slim white cigarette she had been smoking, tapping off the cherry as the old man sat down. She had watched him from the window, and she knew that there already had to be several different people that had their eyes on him, and even followed him. Looking at the suitcase when he spoke, she glanced up at him with her smokey eyed gaze, her hands folding neatly on her lap as she sat back. "Stones of Solomon." She said in a low voice, a hint of some kind of European accent tinging her words. "That is a very powerful artifact you carry, sir. It is obvious, and has been so since you first walked into my office, that you haven't been entirely truthful with me." She shifted in her seat, leaning forward and laying her forearms against the table, her gaze sharpening. "Now please. Tell me the whole story. I cannot be blind in any aspect. That could spell disaster for the both of us."

It was just another beautiful day in San Fransisco. Sun was shining, the general hustle and bustle pushed its way through the busy streets, the orcs decided not to start a fight with everything within eyesight. It was definitely going to be a good day if the first few hours of daylight were this calm and relaxing. A skinny looking older man must not have gotten that hint when he continuously twisted his head to watch his own back and everything around him. It was like he was expecting something to reach out from one of the shadows decorating the street from every single object the sunlight cast down from. With what was in the briefcase, it was very much likely that something would reach out and tear his throat out from out of nowhere.

The old man walked several blocks, passed by an assortment of humans, elves, and beasties that wandered around in the daylight now that they were all common knowledge. It was especially unnerving when a green-skinned orc decided to tip his hat in greeting with the smile of an underbite turning what should be a friendly gesture into a potentially terrifying threat that only made the man pick up his pace. It was nearly a half hour before he finally came to his destination, a small silver roof diner. The kind that was cheap, unassuming and in a wide public view to prevent the worst from happening. Not completely ideal, but it was the best that could be done in a massive city like San Fransisco.

"Hello, welcome. Table for one?" The orc waitress asked with that terrifying smile.

"No, no. I'm meeting someone. She should be-. Ah, there she is. Pardon me." The gentleman responded before pushing past the mottled green skin and planting himself at a booth at the far end of the diner. Only three other beings were in the diner with him, the young woman he was going to contract for this job, the orc waitress that greeted  the fourth individual that walked in, and the elf cook that started talking to the newcomer like he was expecting this newcomer to say the same thing that he always did. From there the old man scurried to the table and took his seat

"Humblest apologies miss. I must have lost track of time while I was coming here." He fell quiet when the newcomer, a middle-aged fellow with dressy brown pants held up by a set of suspenders and an off-white shirt, passed by and took his seat in the booth behind them. Once the other male was seated and hopefully preoccupied with his hot cup of coffee, "I've brought them. Just as promised." He started before taking the effort to lift and accidentally slam the suitcase on the table, "The Stones of Solomon." With those four words, the man behind them sputtered and coughed like he started choking on his coffee.

(Hopefully, things go well enough. Going to start off getting the job started up and when that's finished I'll have the character formally introduced.)