Noble Blood (Closed for Apollo Wilde)

[Nouh_Bdee]

The city of Lavachia was dark on that warm summer evening, the beginning of the working night. Enescu Street would be busy later in the night, but people were still waking up from the day's sleep, rousing themselves for the night ahead. Drago had arrived at the office early.

The thin young man reached into his pocket to pull out a heavy, cast iron key. The weight of it comforted him as he lifted it to the heavy wooden door. This was the office of Adesso Mano, Private Investigator, and Drago Hofer still felt privileged to have the only key that Miss Mano didn’t keep with her. It was an early start to the night. The sun hadn’t fully set yet, but Drago knew Miss Mano would be here. Despite his best efforts, she was always the first one in the office.

What was out of the ordinary was the young man waiting by the door when he walked up. “A customer, this early in the night?” he’d asked, watching the man curiously. Drago wasn’t as good at reading people as Miss Mano, but he was trying to learn.

“Yes, sir. I need her to find my sister. Please!”

Drago held up a hand for the man to stop explaining. “Let me go in and get ready to open for the night, and I’ll be back.”

“Yes, sir.” The man was young. He looked about two decades old, with olive skin and dark brown hair that stuck out straight from his head in a consistent fuzz. He was dressed in dark pants and a pale linen shirt, much like Drago, but without Drago’s starched collar and pristine vest. Concern was evident on his face, understandable for a man with a missing family member. If there was more to notice about him, Miss Mano would have to notice it. Drago was still learning.

Drago Hofer was tall and lean, with pale skin and blonde hair that curled on top of his head despite how trim he kept the back and sides. He walked with a straight, formal gait that he’d been intentional about when he was growing up. His clothes were always well-pressed and plain, although of high quality. He made most of them himself. One piece he didn’t make was the narrow band of red silk around his neck.

He pushed open the door, closing it quickly behind him after he slipped through with his nightbag. “Good evening, Miss Mano. I hope you slept well.”

The famous detective, his mentor, was sitting in her favorite chair, reading. Drago almost walked past her before remembering to look at the book. Waterfowl of Greater Lavachia. Miss Mano had taught him that one can learn a lot about a person by how they spend their leisure, and with what they fill their mind. Books can kill both those birds with the one stone.

Drago looked at the huge bookcase, taking up the entire south wall of the office, stuffed with reference books and other reading material of all kinds. He couldn’t see a gap between books, which must have meant this book hadn’t come from the bookcase, at least not directly. She must’ve brought it from home. Was it for a case, or just a curiosity? If their roles in this hypothetical investigation were reversed, she would know that answer, and she would have a perfectly logical rationale behind how she figured it out. Drago shook his head in amusement, almost as impressed with his hypothetical version of her as he was the real thing.

Drago went about the business of opening up the office for the night: making a pot of tea, readying Miss Mano’s notebook and pens, arranging the chairs in the sitting room to receive customers, all the little things that must be done to maintain Miss Mano’s business and present herself as the competent and professional woman that she was. Customers and potential customers should feel that a private detective had her life in order and under control, freeing her to focus on their case. Miss Mano never had trouble focusing on any of her cases, but Drago felt that making sure they knew that was his job. He finished his work by placing a piping hot cup of tea on the small table next to his employer.

Once everything was set, Drago took a deep breath and looked around the office, appreciating that everything was in order, even the repaired bronze-housed microscope that Miss Mano had requested he pick up for her from Cristiana Ardelean’s shop. He was glad to have the heavy, fragile thing out of his nightbag. With a sigh, Drago interrupted his mentor’s reading.

“You have a customer waiting for you outside already, Miss Mano. Shall I let him in?”

Once she’s ready, Drago will open the door and welcome the man in to sit in the comfortable chair opposite Miss Mano. He’ll offer the man tea, but with his agitation Drago will be surprised if he accepts.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

At some point in her past, Adesso remembered waking with the sun, feeling the warmth of it against her face, her closed eyelids. Sunlight now was a distant memory, with it, the warmth of connection. The night had its own beauty, this was true - and often, she treated herself with watching the sun sink below the horizon, the sky ablaze in such vivid hues of pink, gold, and orange that she felt they would be permanently burned onto the back of her eyelids. Color. That was something she missed; something that many people seemed to flit about, happy with the imitations of natural life in their clothing, hair. Funny, then, for someone who missed color as much as she did to wear such monochromatic clothing.

This evening was no different from any of the others; something she always idly wondered was caused by working at night, or because of the nature of her life seemed so monotonous. Cases were a bright spot, that was true, but she could still feel the longing of wanting something more (though she was never entirely sure what that more was) whining at the corners of her chest, a tugging at her feet that made her want to throw it all away and just…go, somewhere, anywhere. But that was a whimsical fancy, and Adesso just didn’t do whimsical fancies, save for those she allowed herself in books.

Her evenings were rote - some time sitting in her bed, marinating over the day, or the night before, a bath. Time sitting in front of her vanity, brushing her thick hair, a sprinkling of orange blossom water into the brush to bring her hair fragrance, then, the mechanical nature of braiding it, pinning it back into a heavy chignon at the nape of her neck. Glass earrings, more perfume at the hollow of her throat, behind her ears. Deep red rogue carefully patted and blended into her cheeks, her lips. Lighting a match and then blowing it out as she used it to darken her dark brows further.

Her clothes laid out the day before, easy to slip into. Tonight’s affair would be her usual - black overcoat, deep green waistcoat, high (but slightly lopsided) collar and cravat, cream breeches and white stockings, well worn black shoes that held a bit of a militaristic high polish. She forewent the flourishes that men with more money, higher standing often wore, giving her the impression of a young general, still fumbling his way from provincial roots. The fact that she was a woman in masculine clothing didn’t raise eyebrows like it used to; it was simply easier for her to move like this - even as women’s fashion moved away from corsets and lavish skirts to empire waists and peasant-aping shifts.

The trip to the butcher; idle conversation about his wife, the most recent apprentice, the son who was determined to join the military. Everything noted and carefully tucked away, as she listened, weighed bits of information against the others, updated things. Then, oh, one of the highlights of her evening - the dogs.

Dusk was a whisper in the sky behind her as she knelt, doling out the scraps of meat and bone to the animals that awaited her. The usual strays - Blackie, Spot, Ringo, Fearful. Names given to her out of simple necessity, not out of creativity, and in the end, it didn’t matter: they knew her shop to be a safe place. Fearful seemed to be coming round, she thought, with a small smile, as the littlest dog, with a wiry brown and white coat and curled tail, crept towards her, delicately taking a small tidbit from her outstretched fingers with surprising gentleness, and a small wag of her tail. “Maybe I’ll start calling you something else soon, eh?” Adesso held out her hand - and couldn’t help her widening smile as the little dog licked her fingers.

Then, unlocking the door - and inside. Checking her appearance in the small mirror. Hrm. No matter how many times she thought she’d fixed it, her collar still seemed to drop to the side, her cravat deflated. At least the color brought out the even brown of her skin; the jet of her hair so meticulously brushed back and styled, even if the style was fashionable among great grandmothers.

The first cup of tea, Ceylon black, with sweetened condensed milk as she settled into her chair, removing her most recent library book from her satchel. She’d heard a bird call a few days before at a park pond, and, noting the seasons, thought it strange for that time of year. Perhaps she’d been mistaken, but after finding a stray feather, thought that it wouldn’t hurt to look it up. The book was less than fascinating, and after a few pages and her mind drifting to literally anything else, she was considering giving it up for the evening, and go to something more riveting - like watching paint dry.

It was in that state that she’d heard Drago enter, and respond without looking up - “Mmm.” Dismissive on anyone else, it was as warm as of welcome as she could give when she was reading. Still, she recognized the sounds of his “tidying” - a habit she hadn’t instilled in him, and, after the first week or so that he was in her employ, quickly learned to give up a constantly losing battle. She let him do as he wished, noting that he found a sort of comfort in it - and wasn’t prying while he did so. And when he replaced her cup of tea, she looked up, and gave him that world weary smile tinged with a bit of sorrow that she was somehow notorious for, though she thought nothing of it. “Thank you, Drago. I did sleep well; did you have a good day as well?”

Closing the book with one hand, she didn’t bother to mark her page. Turned out the feather had belonged to a type of heron - one that was migrating through. Earlier than usual, as it was, but perhaps it was young. “This early…?” She trailed off, sucking in a corner of her lower lip. “Hrm.” It had to have been an emergency of some sort; most waited until later into the evening, when the rest of the town had shaken off the torpor of setting up for another night’s business. “Please, go ahead and let him in.” She replaced the book in her satchel, and took a slow sip of the tea that Drago had brought her. Somehow, there was something in the way that he made it that was that much better, much richer, than when she made it on her own.

As Drago brought the young man in, she would stand, rather than sit, to give the impression of professionalism, though the office gave off the distant air of someone constantly preoccupied with other things. The air inside smelled of old books and leather, dusty curtains that seldom parted to let in the sunlight. Slightly stuffy, save for the hint of a breeze from a window barely cracked. The stale astringent bite of many cups of tea, slightly burnt sugar - and then, the odor from herself, a combination of orange blossoms and perfume edged with cedar and bergamot, crisp and hinting at the depth of winter woods.

Though she was shorter than Drago, the elegance of her figure made her seem taller. The masculine clothing did not entirely hide her figure, but nor did it entirely reveal it. The overcoat and waist coat, though cinched in, still drowned her in yards of fine fabric; only revealing the curves of her breasts, her hips, as she moved. Against the black and cream of her clothing, her brown skin seemed fairly luminescent, uncannily smooth and untouched by age. Dark eyes, framed by dark lashes, gave her face an air of youthful naiveté, a fawn’s wide, liquid eyes in a human face. Thick brows, and a full mouth that seemed explicitly crafted for the kisses of lovers, with a natural pout that verged on politely erotic. High cheekbones that were a bit too sharp; a mole beneath the left eye like a flick of stray pen ink. Still, she was not what one would call traditionally beautiful, or even lovely - “exotic”, perhaps, if someone were to be generous, but certainly not “plain.” A well worn quality to her face that suggested an innate knowledge of the sad workings of the world kept many at bay, the thrown back shoulders and straight posture building a wall between her and others before the first word was spoken. A painting done by a skilled artist, but brushed over with a fine coat of dust; a sketch of a someone, perhaps important, once upon a time, but had since been drawn over - that was Adesso.

“Good evening - I’m Adesso Mano,” her voice was pleasant enough; no heavy sighs or turn of phrase, a plainspokenness that on others could seem curt or terse. “Please, have a seat, and tell me what brings you to my office. But first - would you like some refreshment?”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Before waving in the young man, Drago lit the lantern outside, his fingers collecting a bit of soot from the match and grease from the mechanism to extend the wick. His mouth turned down, but he wiped the expression away in favor of a tight, formal smile. He didn’t want the customer to see him frowning.

Once the man was seated inside and Drago’s hands were clean, he stood off to the side, in the alcove that led off to the hallway. The wallpaper, pistachio with golden pimpernels, contrasted with his own mostly monochromatic clothing, but most customers still forgot that he was there after a few moments. Through an accident of personality, Drago was naturally gifted with the extreme unobtrusiveness often cultivated by the servant class. Despite his androgynous beauty, the man could disappear when he wanted to.

“No, thank you—well, perhaps some water if you have it. Thank you.”

Drago quickly filled a small cup with water from the tap, returning to the sitting room to place it on the small table next to the young man’s chair.

“Thank you.” He placed both hands on the cup, lifting it to his mouth to take a sip, and then he turned back to Miss Mano.

“My sister has not come home in two nights. She’s never done that before. Even one night! She always comes home.”

Drago could hear the worry in his voice, that tremble of fear and distraction, threatening to give way to fear. Drago’s relationship with his only sibling, a brother, was strained enough that they rarely spoke, but he would still be concerned if he thought anything had happened to him. He felt for the young man.

“The last time I saw her? Two nights ago, Tuesnight, she said she was on her way to work. She works at Vlad’s, that fancy place in Conacton?”

From his place standing against the wall, Drago could see the man’s body language deflate from agitation to a duller, more placid concern. Drago had seen this from many customers. Miss Mano’s demeanor had a way of putting people at ease, giving them confidence in her without promising a thing. “Her name is Boala. Boala Jorat.” He thought for a moment. “She’s short, five foot three, and her hair is dark like mine, but curlier.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Over tea and water, Adesso asked her questions:

Did your sister leave home early?

Did she enjoy her job?

Did she regularly go to work?

Were there any changes in her habits?

How old is she?

Cold tea to warm tea, as Drago silently refilled her cup, Adesso watching the young man. Overprotective, maybe. Perhaps insecure - was his sister making more money than him? No red band for him, but perhaps for her. Should she ask about how attractive the sister was? No; a man like the brother, panicked, though calming, would not be objective. If she was fairer than usual, and wearing a red band, the answer would be fairly simple, and then it would be a waiting game.

He’d mentioned that this was the first time she’d done it - of course he wouldn’t be calm. But murders, as sensationalist as they were reported, were rare in that particular part of town. Too much money. The natural assumption would be that because of the money, crime would follow, but money collected in a neighborhood meant that there was money to pay for street lamps, patrols, for armed guards to chase away vagrants that had wandered too far into the floating world - and needed to be chased back down to the real world. But when it came to family, logic rarely factored in.

Well - unless family was responsible for the disappearance. There was none of that odd air about him that would suggest that he’d wish his own sister ill. Didn’t mean that someone else in the family didn’t.

Still, a murder - pah. The first assumption of those who read one too many penny dreadfuls and wanted to get lost in something far more fantastical than the real world.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Drago smiled--a small, restrained smile--when he saw it: that look on her face when she was working through a case in her mind. Her focus was so intense, so quick. Whether she would end up taking the case or not, all her attention was on the young man’s words and the mystery of what had happened to his sister. He loved watching her work. The young man, whose name was apparently Ignat, appeared to Drago to be answering her questions honestly. The slender assistant detected no deceit.

“It’s hard to say, ma’am. She started work at different times. I think she left home about midnight that night?”

“Did she enjoy her job?”

A flash of anger on Ignat's face. “Some of the customers got handsy sometimes. She stopped mentioning it to me, but I don’t think that was because it got better. It never bothered her as much as it did me. I guess she was used to it.” Was there more to that? Drago would never interrupt, and he had no idea what he would ask if he did.

“Did she regularly go to work?”

The anger long gone, replaced by weary concern, Ignat answered Miss Mano’s next question. “Most nights. It wasn’t consistent, but it was probably five nights a week. Usually mornings.”

“Were there any changes in her habits?”

The sadness on Ignat’s face deepened. “My--our father passed, a few weeks ago. It was his lungs--he worked in the vents in the warrens.” His eyes were watering. “We both, um, it’s been hard on both of us. It made her quieter. Probably me, too. It’s...hard to tell. As for making her do anything different, go anywhere different, I don’t think so? Maybe she stayed in a little more, but she never went out much before, except to work.” He looked up at Miss Mano, concern for his sister temporarily less evident on his face as he dwelled on his loss. Drago was thankful that silence was what was expected of him. He didn’t know what he would have said.

After a moment, Miss Mano asked her next question.

“How old is she?”

“Almost nineteen, ma’am. Just a couple years younger than I am. We’ve always been close.” His voice raised, and his speech sped up. “I know she wouldn’t leave or anything without telling me! I know it! It has to be something else!”

Drago watched with compassion. It wasn’t the first time a customer had had an outburst in Miss Mano’s office, so he wasn’t surprised. He hoped the man’s sister was alright.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Adesso.” Short, clipped. She hated being called “ma’am.” There was just something about it that rubbed her the wrong way, sending sparks up her spine like rubbing a cat’s fur the wrong way. “Just ‘Adesso.’”

His responses were the beginning sketches of a wider photo - handsy customers; to be expected for a young woman of passing attractiveness. Money, of course, many thought bought them whatever liberties. Like ticker tape, her next series of questions came, partially hidden behind her tea cup as she took another long sip:

Was she paid well?

Do you work?

Who is left in your family?

His outburst, loud in the sudden quiet of the room, didn’t rattle her senses. “I understand, Mr. Jorat.”

Nothing out of the ordinary so far; nothing that tickled her senses and sped up her pulse. However, as cool as she was, she could get the distinct sense of loss; perhaps made worse considering the passing of their father.

“I’ll take the case,” she set down her tea cup on its saucer, the rim faintly dusted with the rouge she’d pressed into her lips. Not enough to seem truly painted, but enough to give them a sweet-stained flush.

Two nights ago. Enough time for those to remember her at work. Start at Vlad’s. Go from there.

Her thoughts, if one could hear them, were scatter-shot, roughly sketching out an outline of events, of how to approach them. The sooner she could get moving on this, the better. In his state, she was sure that Ignat would hover round her door, and she could hardly blame him for that. A small part of her mind marveled at his distraught demeanor, the way her mind always did when confronted with cases like this.

What would it be like to actually be so close to family?

It was a mystery, even to her - far beyond her own realm of experience. She’d learned how to stop feeling envious of the connection years ago. While she would pursue this case with no less doggedness as she did all others, her particular favorites were the cases like her - the ones where there was no family to look for them, no caring brother - but, rather, someone on the edges of normal social ties. One of her favorites had been a teacher, concerned that one of her students was missing, the parents not seeming to care one way or the other. Or the orphanage matron, looking desperately for one child that hadn’t returned home from playing. The cases of the forgotten, the castaways - those, ah, those were the ones that truly spoke to her.

All the same, she offered him a smile that reached her eyes, spoke of reassurance - reassurance she didn’t voice. It would be one thing to promise that his sister was alive and well if she were certain of it; far too cruel to give false hope when there was so much still left open. “I will let you know as soon as I have gathered any information of importance.” A reminder that she would be actively checking in with him - to keep him from hovering around the office and potentially costing precious time. “Until then.” The dismissal was clear - and coming from anyone else, would have been horrifically rude and short. But from Adesso, it was the eagerness of wanting to get started. That in and out of itself should be reassuring to the young man.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The man nodded, taking a breath to calm himself. “Adesso, yes, ma—sorry. Adesso.” Drago smirked from the alcove. He didn’t feel comfortable calling her by her first name, and he knew her better than anyone. He knew not to call her ma’am, though.

Drago noticed Miss Mano’s questions coming faster. She was going to take the case.

“Was she paid well?”

Ignat paused to consider. “We were still getting used to talking about money with each other.” A sharp intake of breath. “We both lived with Dad, and he paid our bills. We helped out, with groceries and whatnot. I think she did well. Occasionally she would buy us a nice dinner, maybe a goose or lamb.” Ignat seemed to reconsider. “Sometimes she would say she was broke, though. I don’t rightly know what she made.”

“Do you work?”

“Of course, Adesso, at Mr. Morescu’s over by Little Unglia. I don’t make much, but I’ve got a few gold in savings and I’ll pay your fee, if it takes me until my dying day. You have my word.”

Drago knew that hadn’t been why Miss Mano asked, but Ignat’s earnestness was amusing, and heartwarming. Neither the assistant nor the detective mentioned anything about it. Miss Mano just moved on

“Who is left in your family?”

“No one. It was just the three of us, Miss Adesso.” Drago smiled at the compromise. “Well, we have an uncle in Fermavest we see on holidays, but that’s it.”

“I’ll take the case.”

“You will!?”

Ignat stood up, and Drago noticed him start to put out a hand for a shake before changing his mind.

“Thank you so much, Miss Adesso. I know you can find her.”

He bowed and started walking for the door. Drago opened it, and he turned around to speak before walking out.

“One more thing, Miss Adesso. I, um, I tried to ask about her at Vlad’s. They wouldn’t let me in, since they’re members only? I thought they would at least tell me whether she worked last night or not, but they wouldn’t say anything about her. Um, I—I may have raised my voice a bit. I’m sorry. I hope that doesn’t make it difficult for you.”






Sir Stefan was waiting patiently outside the office of Adesso Mano, Private Detective. He could see through the window that the famous PI had a customer, so he stood outside in the late evening darkness. He had made his way to the small row building in Eastside as soon as the sun set. Stefan enjoyed Eastside. It wasn’t as rich or well-maintained as the Plateau or Conacton, but it was charming without the unlawfulness of the Warrens or the provincial attitudes of Plainside. There was an oil lamp burning by the door, an antique thing coated in soot. Stefan could smell it, and he didn’t mind. It gave the place an authenticity that he found refreshing.

He’d dressed hurriedly, but precisely, for this evening. His overcoat was a deep red, lined with brushed velvet. His waistcoat and stockings were lily white, with ivory buttons on the waistcoat. His breeches and cravat were black to match boots polished to a mirror-like shine. The purpose was to convey that he was a man of high expectations, for himself and others. Like all Lavachian nobility, Stefan was an attractive man. Comfortably over six feet tall, he was muscular and broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist and limbs that looked almost as powerful as they were. His face was the picture of masculine symmetry. His wide, sharp jawline accentuated by a thin line of perfectly trimmed facial hair that joined to an equally precise moustache. His skin was smooth and blemish-free, with the color and shine of rich caramel. His hair was dark and closely cropped. His light brown eyes were bright and piercing, and he occasionally wondered if he’d have caught his sponsor’s eye without them.

His expression was dark, reflective of his mood. Still, he was curious to meet this Adesso Mano. Her reputation was impressive, but Constantin had mentioned that he found her a bit eccentric. Stefan did not share his fellow nobleman’s aversion to eccentricity. In fact, he enjoyed it, so he turned to the door in anticipation when it opened to let the previous customer out. He heard what the man said about Vlad’s. Stefan filed that information away in his mind. If Adesso hesitated to take his case, he could offer to facilitate her investigation of her other case. He was a member at Vlad’s, after all.

Stefan was impressed with the man who opened the door. He had the dress and demeanor of a servant, and he spoke, moved, and dressed like a very good one. His surprise at finding a nobleman at the door was neutral, and quickly hidden. Stefan nodded to him as he stepped inside to meet Adesso Mano, accepting the man’s offer of a cup of tea.

The detective herself was an intriguing woman. It wasn’t uncommon to see a woman in masculine clothing anymore, but for many it was an affectation, a statement that they wished to be noticed by others for something other than, ironically, their appearance. Simply by the way she stood and sat, the way she held herself, Stefan could tell it wasn’t an affectation for Adesso. She was an attractive woman, as well. Perhaps she wouldn’t be called beautiful by most of the people of Lavachia, but Stefan had met and bedded enough porcelain dolls over the years to appreciate a unique beauty. He sat, and sipped his tea.

“Good evening, Adesso. My name is Sir Stefan, and I’m afraid I need your help finding my brother, Geofri. He’s a gentleman, like myself, and he’s gone missing. We were to meet for dinner this last morning, and when he did not arrive I checked his apartment. His doorman checked with the rest of the building staff, and he has been unaccounted for for two nights now. This was corroborated by the presence of untouched copies of two nights’ worth of daily newspapers on his stoop.”

The simple facts laid out, Stefan sat back and awaited her questions, trusting in her expertise as to what details may be relevant.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Father paid bills. Whatever they contributed couldn’t have been much. Cause for concern. How long would she want to stay living with her brother?

What did she want out of life?

One more thing to think about. It would be foolish to make assumptions of what Boala would want out of life. A young woman, working - not sure for how long - no financial security, no mention of a paramour. Perhaps information that she wouldn’t be comfortable sharing; still hard to tell.

It was easy to slip into assumptions - people rarely traveled outside of the paths that others had worn for them. But to fall into assumptions, especially in this line of work, meant eventual blindness to small details; anything that could buck the assumption you’d started to grow attached to. Recognizing that she did not truly know this girl would be the best place to start. Following the line of her life would be the best place to start; Vlad’s meant she wasn’t slumming.

“Hrm" she grumbled a bit, not too audible. Vlad’s would be a problem. She didn’t have a membership; gaining entrance would be difficult, and she doubted that digging through the trash for any notes or scraps of paper would be too beneficial; not this late in the game. Hanging around the door wasn’t her style; nor would be sneaking in. She was past the age and youthful exuberance of thinking up disguises and going undercover. Though she knew she didn’t stand out to most, coming up with some cover would take more time and effort than it would perhaps be worth. Then, turning her attention back to Ignat, she gave him that reassuring smile, the one that said that everything would be okay, life would slip back into normal patterns soon enough; just bear up a little longer. The smile that touched the corners of her eyes, sincerity that broke through the air of distance that surrounded her. She would say nothing more, but place a hand on the young man’s back as he headed towards the exit.

“Unpredictable” would be the best way to sum up her line of work - and as much as she itched to start on Jorat’s case, it seemed that tonight would be busier than usual. “And no holiday in sight,” she murmured, slightly bemused, to the stale air in the shop. No strange changes in weather, which usually lead to an increase in strange behavior. Maybe it was something in the wind; something that the dogs had felt, for rather than get started, she got that feeling, that line traced up her spine, that she should stay standing. And sure enough, no sooner than Ignat had departed that, surprise of surprises, there was a member of the Nobility at the door.

“Maybe it will snow tonight,” she murmured, louder this time, smiling as she caught Drago’s quick quirk of his lips; enough of a grin that she knew he’d heard her, and found her comment amusing. Since she’d left the force, she’d only seen the Nobility in passing, their elegant figures slipping in and out of her life like shadows. Sure, she’d served one or two in the office before, but with the network of Whispers and Listeners, need for her specific services were few and far in-between, even moreso after she’d made it clear in no uncertain terms to Sir Constantin that she was not going to be caught up between the squabbles of the Nobility; they had the money and the resources (and, in theory, age), to figure out their problems.

“Good evening to you, Sir Stefan,” her tone was no different from when she spoke to Ignat - something alone that would have rankled any member of the Nobility that had firmly nestled themselves into their laurels and titles. But this was her office, and thereby her rules. “Two days indeed,” she said, “Ah, thank you,” looking up at Drago as he set down a fresh cup of tea. Her gaze back on Sir Stefan, she fought back that small flicker that threatened the base of her spine. Of course Sir Stefan was handsome; that would be a given. Well, at least that flicker reminded her that she was still female; sometimes she had her own doubts.

“Your brother, you said?” A lift of her eyebrows, the rest of her face hidden as she took a sip of tea. “Related?” It seemed a silly question, but clarification was needed. Some members of the Nobility referred to each other as “brother” or “sister,” as if part of some great secret club, though she hadn’t heard those terms used in years. Looking at Sir Stefan carefully, there was a slight tugging down at the corner of her mouth as she weighed what he’d said.

How rare. And suspect.

“Tell me about yourself, Sir Stefan.” She leaned back now, crossing her legs languidly. She was in no hurry - at least, not anymore. Two missing people, same time periods, two sets of siblings. Interesting. The Jorats didn’t seem to be well-off; by the cut of Sir Stefan’s clothing, he wasn’t hurting for money. The mind whined, ached to draw some connection, any connection, but it was entirely too early to jump to any conclusions. At this moment, she needed more information on Sir Stefan. What kind of family did he come from to warrant brothers being turned at the same time? “The usual,” she added, in case her question was a bit vague. “Your family, what you do - any other siblings, favorite color.” At her small joke, she grinned, a slightly tired curve of her lips.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

“Blood relations, actually. Twins.”

Stefan always enjoyed the surprise on people’s faces when he told them that. He wondered how Adesso would react if he told her they were even Nighted at the same time, and by the same sponsor. As far as he knew, it was the only time it had ever happened. He was proud to be unique. Well, he was proud that he and his twin were identically unique, anyway.

Stefan watched Adesso as she processed his revelation. Her legs, sheathed in masculine breeches and stockings, were femininely crossed, one foot bouncing almost imperceptibly. Her black shoes were polished, suggesting attention to detail, although that was hardly news considering her profession and reputation.

Her face was subtly expressive. Stefan doubted most would have noticed her surprise just now, or her earlier amusement when he’d entered her office. Her features were exotic, and quite handsome in Stefan’s opinion. Her dark eyes were bright with intelligence. Her smooth and youthful skin contrasted with the idea of the experienced investigator he’d expected. Her high cheekbones were unique and alluring, and Stefan could imagine some things he would like to do with those full lips.

His fine, gentleman’s senses could feel the blood flowing through her body. She was calm and focused, hopefully interested in his case. That was encouraging. There was something restricting her blood flow through her neck. He couldn’t see it, covered as it was by her high collar and crooked cravat. Was it a red band? The thought tantalized him, but he doubted it. It wouldn’t be covered if she were trying to advertise, after all. A Noble's Collar would also be something that one would normally wear uncovered. Stefan was intrigued with this Adesso Mano.

This wasn’t the time to indulge his lustful nature, however. That was the Countess rubbing off on him. He was concerned about Geofri. The fact that he hadn’t been home meant he was in danger, and it took quite a bit to put a Lavachian nobleman in danger. He was tempted to be annoyed that Adesso was asking him about himself, until he realized that his life and his brother’s were so similar and intertwined that it would be a good way for her to learn about Geofri as well.

Stefan sipped his tea. It was quality, and perfectly brewed. He smiled ever so slightly at the assistant, standing in the back.

“My father was an importer in Conacton. My brother and I grew up the only children in a loving and comfortable home. Our father retired as soon as we were old enough to take over, and my brother and I ran his business until we were Nighted at thirty. I know running a business together can be a strain, but the cooperation between the two of us was effortless. Maybe it’s because we’re twins, I don’t know.” Stefan sat his cup down and leaned back, part of his mind losing itself in the memories. “Once we were Nighted, we had to hire a manager, a fellow by the name of Mayer. He was competent, and his son runs the business now, under our employ of course.”

“My brother and I were chosen partly for our appearance and our manners, and partly for the novelty of our identical nature.” Stefan decided to go ahead and tell her about the Countess. He would have enjoyed toying with delaying the revelation, spacing out the shocks, but Geofri was in danger, and any information about his life and habits might help. “We were Nighted together in a joint ceremony, served our time in the Guard, and then we lived with our sponsor, Countess Donia, for the next three decades. She moved on, as is her wont, and we found our own lodging, separate from each other for the first time in our lives. That was about...six years ago now, I believe.”

Stefan sighed, he had begun to miss his brother before he’d gone missing, even though they saw each other several times a week. He didn’t mind--he respected that Geofri wanted to establish a bit of independence. In truth, he did, too. Still, he felt the loss of that inseparable closeness they’d had since they were children.

“We check in with Mayer regularly, but our lives are lives of leisure now. Performances at playhouses, dinner at fine restaurants, artistic and scientific pursuits—our nights are our own. My brother and I could both be considered dabblers, and prone to vary our time. I’m afraid if you’re asking for our routines you’ll be disappointed.”

Stefan smiled, and raised his finger just slightly in the assistant’s direction to indicate that he would enjoy a refill on the delicious tea.

“Also, black. It’s mysterious, confident, and a bit intimidating all at once.”

Suddenly remembering the Ardeloid he’d brought, Stefan fished it out of his coat pocket, reaching out to hand the ornate wooden receptacle to Adesso. It was a very flat box made of cherrywood, with a plate of tempered glass for one side. Under the glass sat a thin sheet of silver-plated copper with a remarkably clear image of a man that looked exactly like Stefan, but with no facial hair. He was wearing a dark coat and hat, and holding a cane. “That’s Geofri. You’re welcome to borrow that for the duration of your investigation, of course.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Twins, eh?

Even as she took another leisurely sip from her cup, she couldn’t stop her eyebrows from lifting momentarily in surprise. Twins in general, let alone Gentlemen twins, were rare - and the latter, unheard of. In fact, this was the first case that she’d heard of. Ever. That in and out of itself was enough to draw instant suspicion to the case. Who would try to harm a member of the Nobility, let alone one that was as unique as this? They had to have known that it would draw far more attention than if it had been anyone else.

Assuming, of course, that someone had harmed him. And even if she were to go with that assumption, it sketched the image of someone that was past the point of caring. Dangerous, that.

“What business is it, that the Mayers run for you? And how long have his sons run it?” Wealth was always a motivation - but why bite the hand that fed you, or kill the golden goose? “Have there been any changes in the industry that would cause the Mayers to suggest, perhaps, a different way of running things?”

In between the questions, she leaned forward, taking the ardeloid. That wasn’t a surprise; they did look alike. “What was the occasion of the photo?” In the photo, Sir Geofri didn’t look dressed any fancier than the normal attire of a Noble, but it seemed far too casual to serve as an actual portrait. Considering the price of such things, to take a photo just because was the height of extravagance - but, Sir Stefan had said that they were men of leisure. Meant a lot of time on their hands with absolutely nothing that had to be done. The envy of many, she was sure, but to her, it had always struck her as something that would be…sad, if not flat out dull, after the initial novelty had worn off. Man needed something to occupy his time.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Stefan smiled at Adesso’s subtle expression of shock. He did so enjoy these delicious moments, when he revealed himself to be more intelligent, more capable, or in this case more unique, than first appearances would suggest. His own sponsor had assumed she would gain a temporary plaything, if an exotic one that was part of a rare set, but she ended up with a friend, a lover for decades, and an occasional confidant and counselor.

Stefant tried to recall. “There’s only the one Mayer left, as far as I know, although it’s possible he has children now.” Stefan’s explanation of the business was more polished, almost rehearsed. After all, the content hadn’t changed in half a century. “The business imports primarily luxury goods to sell to the shops in Conacton and the Entertainment District. Darjinian textiles, Nakhi spices, Ontzian ceramics, et cetera.” He remembered something Adesso might enjoy. “We brought in a lovely shipment of Yishi tea last week. I’ll have a box sent over.” That was something Stefan really enjoyed; thinking of creative ways to introduce people to new experiences that he thought they would enjoy. He always appreciated it when others did that for him. It showed not only generosity, but care and consideration as well.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting question. I can’t think of any recent paradigm shifts in the import business, but we’ve always been quick to take Mayer up on any suggestions. We even financed his trip when he wanted to source the best Balhiban wool, and when he wanted to partner with a local manufacturer to have it woven into blankets, we not only approved it, but bonussed the man generously when the idea proved quite lucrative.”

Stefan knew not to discount any potential leads, though, and if Adesso thought there was merit to it, he would support her.

At the mention of the ardeloid, Stefan smiled. It was a fond memory. “That was my doing. I wanted to learn how to perform the exposure and development process for the image, and since Geofri was available, he posed for me.” He chuckled—it must seem so frivolous and indulgent. “I’m sorry, I know how it must sound, Adesso, but Cristiana was more than happy to let me have my fun, and at cost, although I slipped in a bit extra. We sourced some of the chemicals she needed, and declined to extort her for them. Apparently she’d had a devil of a time on that issue before coming to us.”



Drago raised his eyebrows, intrigued by the nobleman sitting in Miss Mano’s office. He had an easy confidence that he envied. And the lifestyle that he must lead! Before Drago had come on as Miss Mano’s assistant, he had struggled to provide for himself at all, much less be able to afford to spend money on anything so..****.

He wondered whether Miss Mano would take this case as well. He thought so. Sir Stefan would pay well, and it was certainly a puzzle. Noble men and women occasionally died in war, and he’d heard of assassinations in the past, but he’d never heard of any noble just...disappearing.

He idly thought that perhaps if Miss Mano took the case, it would increase Drago’s odds of being Kissed. It was something he’d wanted for years. He originally saw it as a way to endear himself to the upper classes, to create opportunities for himself. Now he enjoyed his life working for Miss Mano so much that he wasn’t sure how much he would want that anymore. But he’d always heard how pleasurable the Kiss was, and he wanted to experience that. Being touched for pleasure sounded wonderful, even if it was just a Kiss.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

It had been easy to hand-wave his attractiveness beforehand, but when he smiled, she had to stop herself from choking on her tea. It was a meager attempt; she ended up sputtering, before coughing a few times. Luckily enough for her, no tea was spilled on her crooked cravat, and, hoping to regain some sort of composure, she set down her cup of tea, dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin that was on the table next to her.

There was no other word for it: his smile was nothing less than absolutely dazzling. Like the first sip of hot cocoa on a cold night; it warmed her from her toes all the way to her chest. Though her face remained close to impassive, her heart was pounding a mile a minute. She forced herself to focus on the embroidery of the napkin, the tea stain that no matter how many times she washed it, bleached it, or scrubbed it, never seemed to come out - and so she always used this one in particular for herself. Though she knew Drago hated it, she clung to it with a stubbornness that kept his best intentions at bay. Though she could barely remember when she’d made the spill, it became a matter of principle that she hang onto this one.

“It sounds like you’re not too troubled by the day to day of the company, then.” Despite her coughing fit earlier, her words were even and calm now, her brain thankful to ink back into the problem at hand. “Though I suppose luxury goods, once you have an established clientele, don’t particularly depreciate.” It was a quiet reminder (as if one could ever forget) about the gulf between the Nobility and commoners - the people like her. A Ontzian piece, not even sufficiently aged, would be worth two years of her salary. At his mention of the tea, she shook her head, trying not to let her embarassment show. She knew enough about tea to know that Yishi tea was top of the line; costing several gold pieces per ounce. She couldn’t stomach that kind of extravagance - not to be given to her like it was nothing. But how to refuse without sounding rude?

“I appreciate the offer, Sir Stefan, but I would rather you not send the tea. It’s…far too much for me,” the last bit was stammered out, as she tried to regain control of her speech. Flattery combined with embarassment, and a bit of annoyance beneath it all - at herself for being flattered, for him offering it like it was nothing, for her nearly choking over something as silly as his smiling at her. “Thank you, but no thank you.” Much firmer now, with a bit of sharpness in her eyes as she steeled her resolve.

“I suppose, then, with a secure clientele, and specializing in luxury goods, and not monitoring the day to day of the business, it may have gone past you that we’re in a bit of a depression. The war has been won, but there’s still pensions to pay and the like. Big wars equal big debts.” That in and out of itself could have been reason for his brother’s disappearance. “Outside of the Mayers - have you any other business interests? Is it possible that your brother may have been involved in the war effort? Raising funds, supporting a battalion?” It wasn’t outside of the norm - the Nobility, while able to buy their way out of service in most circumstances, weren’t above sending proxies, culled from the commoners. If one found the right family that was poor and desperate enough, the promise of riches, or even being recognized as a hero, would be more than worth the risk to life and limb. And though Adesso was well off through her own wits, she’d noticed the inflation in the market; the price of wheat had gone up, taking the price of bread with it. The drought from the year before hadn’t done much to help. In her typical show of frugality, she’d gone with what her gut was telling her and ended up starting a small garden at her home. It was nothing much, but ensured that there was always something. And he was too far above it all to notice the leaner years - times she’d remembered vividly.

She handed the ardeloid back. “Did either one of you keep in contact with Countess Donia? You’d mentioned that you’d stayed with her for three decades, and only recently moved out on your own. And what was your time like with her? Were you introduced into any social circles?”

Countess Donia, eh? W That had been less of a shock to her system than that smile of his - no wonder she Nighted them. For a moment, pulled away from the thoughts of the matter at hand, she thought about what it would be like to be caught between the two brothers, twined together...the Countess always had good taste.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Stefan was aware of the effect that his appearance had one women, and some men. It, plus the fact he was a twin, was why he’d been Nighted. Although, he’d been an object of the affections of numerous daughters of wealthy men well before he became a nobleman. He was, however, somewhat surprised to see Adesso so affected. He made it worse—her coughs and sputters were so cute that he couldn’t keep his smile from getting wider and brighter. He had assumed she would be too cerebral, too objective, to succumb to such base emotions. He was happy to find out that wasn’t the case. After all, Stefan knew better than most how much fun it could be to succumb.

He was disappointed that she declined the tea. Stefan loved giving gifts. He considered belaboring the point, but he sincerely didn’t want to make her feel too uncomfortable, and he thought he could come up with an even better idea. He held up a hand in surrender, trying to hide his smirk. “Of course, of course. I won’t force you to accept the tea as a gift, on one condition.” He paused, to let her wonder what he would say. “You simply must share a pot of it with me, at least once. I won’t let you miss out on this experience.” He nodded to Drago in the back. “Your assistant as well, of course.” He smiled again. He would, of course, spare no expense on the accoutrements for this simple pot of tea, but those plans would be his secret for now.

Ah, yes, Lavachia was just beginning to come out of a depression. Stefan knew that, but he couldn’t deny that it had failed to affect his life, or his brother’s as far as he knew. He didn’t detect any bitterness in Adesso’s tone, fortunately, only a detached pragmatism. “Yes, I understand that. I can’t say that any hardship has reached my door, so I confess my ignorance as to how it could have prompted anything to happen to Geofri. We have no other business interests, and as you point out, our industry is rather robust in terms of weathering economic instability.” Stefan paused, considering Adesso’s question about the war. “I’m also not aware of any involvement Geofri had in the war effort, but I could make an inquiry with Count Petru.” He nodded, having convinced himself that was a good idea. He was embarrassed that he couldn’t be certain of the answer. He’d let his brother begin to drift away, and that was a painful realization for Stefan to have.

Thoughts of the Countess were happier thoughts. “Yes, we both keep in touch. The Countess is a dear friend.” He anticipated that Adesso may wonder if there were any ill will between them, and Stefan was happy to preempt any of those concerns. “All three of us were of the understanding that the intimacy we shared for those decades was always going to be temporary.” Stefan smiled at the absolute impossibility of discussing the Countess without speaking of sex. He didn’t know how comfortable Adesso would be with the subject, so he tried to choose his words euphemistically, in a drastic departure from how these matters would be discussed with the Countess herself. “Even when we spent decades warming her bed nearly every night, it was always as dear friends and as…partners in physical pleasure...more than as lovers.” He smiled again. He had been more than content with that, even though it had been the Countess’s requirement. “Such is her way.” That was probably all he could say about what their relationship had been like for those decades without being more explicit. “I still spend time with her on a weekly basis, and I believe Geofri has been as well. We also attend her...events...with regularity.” He couldn’t help but turn up the corners of his mouth as memories of orgies past flitted through his mind. The sudden intrusion of the thought of bringing Adesso to just such an...event...didn’t help him keep his composure in the slightest. The mental image of her naked body, covered in uncountable tongues, fingers, and phalluses, was distracting to say the least.

Stefan cleared his throat, back on track. “Ah, I would say we were introduced to most of the social circles among the nobility and the merchant class, at least what circles we weren’t already familiar with, through the Countess. She is a friend to many, and an acquaintance to even more.”

Stefan took a sip of his tea, and raised a single finger to request a refill from the young man in the back. Stefan was impressed with him as well. He’d barely been able to catch him having any kind of visible reaction to their conversation. Adesso had chosen her assistant well.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

His smirk helped pull her further back down to earth, the gravity of her own embarassment making sure that her feet were securely on the ground. How silly of her to begin with, to even be shaken by something as small as a smile. Stupidly handsome, of course - Nighted by Countess Donia; the Countess picked the cream of the crop. It felt strange, now, having someone from that celestial orbit, that realm of the senses, in her little shop.

Well - she wasn’t about to be shaken again, not on her own home. To his offer of sharing a pot, she gave a soft sigh of giving in, with a soft shrug of her shoulders. “So be it.” It was a concession, a polite one: that she could live with. “I’m sure Drago would be more than pleased to share a pot of tea with you.” A sly look given to the quiet blonde, before she turned her attention back to Sir Stefan.

Of course he wouldn’t have felt the Depression - his realm not being heavily hit by it. And in those social circles, he would be far away from any sort of unrest. If anyone would have any information on that, her old Captain would be the first person that she would turn to. Of course, there were her own ears as well, her own contacts. It would have been a safe assumption to think that, holding the strings to the brother’s fortunes, that the Mayers wouldn’t have been too troubled by it either. But that was an assumption - and certainly put them into an isolated bubble, which may not be accurate, either. Either way, it would bear more looking into.

Her mind had already begun to tick back to Sir Geofri, and what, if any, role, he could have played in the war effort, even if it was something as minor as lining his own pockets. Sir Stefan certainly seemed far removed from it - and other aspects of the real world - and there was a distance between the brothers that nagged with the possibility of it not being entirely amicable. A fancy, of course - and, at having her thoughts interrupted by Sir Stefan answering her question about the Countess, her face crumpled into a minor scowl, before smoothing out into her typical impassive expression. It was more information than she asked for, and, if anything, though not salacious, certainly felt like he was bragging.

Must be nice, just being pretty toys. Imagine, people being content with that.

Though there seemed little difference in her body posture, the air within the office seemed to drop a few degrees, her ardor cooled significantly. No direct loss or insult to her; she had asked, after all. And had gotten her answer - in a roundabout way. So they were still somewhat close, met up on a regular basis. At least, the Countess and Sir Stefan were. It was something to keep within her back pocket. A last resort in this case, though - perhaps information could be gleaned by other, easier to access contacts. She had never directly encountered the Countess herself (as even in her time as a police officer, she didn’t interact with many of the Nobility), but something about the decadence that the woman carried herself with rubbed her the wrong way. Though, she supposed, she could understand it: eternal youth, beauty, wealth - why would you spend your time any other way?

Why am I thinking about this so much? It was a cold blade of logic that cut through her mind, and her brows knit, temporarily. It bothered her. Hearing about sex was part of the job; hearing people lavish praise on one sexual partner or the other was also part of the job, and each time, it struck her as something particularly strange to go into detail for - was it trying to convince her that it was as good as they said it was, or a way of gauging her own interest? It was perpetually vexing.

“Hrm." Was all she said, declining a refill of her tea. Leaning back, she glanced up at the clock. There wasn’t much else that she had to ask, not for now, at least. “I’ll take the case, but this is not the only case that I currently have.”

It seems like this brother was eager to cut his own path. It was a fun little thought - one that seemed to make sense. “One last question before I must see you out-” She didn’t bother to explain as to why she was ushering him out the door; there was little to ask at this point, and he was getting in the way of her working. “Who was it that decided to live separately - you, or your brother? Oh, and you can finish your tea,” the last bit, tossed his way as an afterthought.

Times like this, she knew Drago would earn his keep. He knew all of the ways to soften her rough edges, her somewhat brusque nature. She was all but throwing Sir Stefan out, and it could have been taken (and perhaps rightfully should have been) as incredibly rude. But for her, it was that same tugging at her brain - she wanted a cigarette, she wanted to pet Blackie, and she wanted to get to work.

Two missing people, both missing for two nights. I'd call it an odd coincidence, but there's no such thing.

Her mind went to Boala first; that seemed a bit more suspect, but she knew deep down it was because she was more concerned about a mortal girl being out on her own. The fact that she’d heard nothing about Sir Geofi going missing told her a few things about his current social standing. He wasn’t high enough for a furor to have erupted; not even for the Listeners or the Whispers to come creeping round her door as they did with more difficult, and discreet, cases. Sir Stefan could be written off as a dilettante; no set schedule, no set interest, other than luxury. Perhaps his brother was a bit more down to earth. Either way, she figured she had a bit more time in his instance, though not as much as she would have liked.

She stood up now, folding her arms primly behind her back, the distant memory of how to act around Nobility, and, with a slight incline of her head, she turned and walked out. Drago would be well used to this - her “detoxing” time; the time that she spent on the back porch, a few dogs around her as she smoked cigarette after cigarette, staring into the distance as her mind started to pull things together. Then, as suddenly as she’d sit down, she’d be on her feet again, tossing a comment behind to him as she grabbed her coat and was out the door - and wouldn’t return until the next night, more information tucked away in her brain and in her notebook.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Drago smiled to hear her take the case, and he smiled wider when she whirled out the door. He wished she had asked him to go with her, but that usually came later, when the initial rush of a new case’s curiosity had dulled to the steadier rhythm of dot-connecting, and she remembered that he was trying to learn how to do what she did. He was happy enough to see that look on her face of excited determination, brightening her eyes, her tight smile, even her cheeks. He thought she was already a very pretty woman, but the aura of sheer competence and joy that practically dripped from her crooked cravat in these moments made her radiant. Drago pushed those thoughts aside, since she was a friend and mentor, and nothing more.

“She’s a fascinating woman.”

Drago blinked at the nobleman, sipping his tea. “Hrm?”

Stefan was smiling, and Drago’s cheeks heated at the worry that he’d read the young commoner’s mind. Gentlemen couldn’t do that, could they? Drago knew they couldn’t, but Stefan’s smirk suggested otherwise.

“Adesso. She’s a fascinating woman. How does she spend her free time?”

His hands waved back and forth as he spoke. His body language told Drago he was just idly wondering, his Sir Stefan’s eyes never left his own.

Drago began gathering Miss Mano’s tea cup. Why was the nobleman so interested? “She enjoys working on cases, sir.” He kept his voice impassive, professional. He picked up the book that she’d been reading, and started taking it and the cup to the back.

Stefan’s smirk remained. “Yes, I got that impression. What about when she doesn’t have a case?”

Drago almost answered, but the intensity of his voice gave him pause. He turned back, book and cup in hand.

“I apologize, Sir Stefan. I don’t feel comfortable speaking about Miss Mano’s personal habits. She’s a private person, sir.”

The tall, handsome man stood up. The few steps it took him to reach Drago’s side were slow and measured. He put a hand on Drago’s shoulder and held out his teacup for him to take. Drago could feel the strength in the man’s grip. It was common for people chosen for Nighting, especially men, to spend time exercising and putting their body in peak physical condition, since it would be essentially frozen in the state it was in when they were Nighted. Stefan must have done that. He certainly filled out his waistcoat and breeches. Drago swallowed, more than a bit intimidated.

“Of course, young man. You’re a very good assistant for her. I can tell. What’s your name?”

“Drago, sir. Drago Hofer.”

His eyes flicked down to the book in Drago’s hand, and then up to linger on the red band around the young man’s neck. He ran a thick finger along the silk. Was he about to be Kissed? He shivered in anticipation and no small amount of fear. Drago would prefer to be Kissed by a Lady, but it wouldn’t do to object while wearing the band.

“Sadly, I am well sated at the moment.”

Drago let out a breath, unsure if he felt regret or relief. He took the man’s cup, and felt a card slipped between his fingers.

“My address, for anything Adesso needs.”

With that, Sir Stefan turned and walked out into the warm summer night.

Drago took a deep breath, and quickly set down the things he was holding. He cleaned the cups, dusted the furniture, and went through the other motions of cleaning the sitting room of the small, homey office. These simple activities gave him comfort, as did removing the responsibility from Miss Mano’s shoulders. Once the room was clean, he straightened his vest and shirt in the mirror, and settled in to do some reading of his own while waiting for any potential customers who may come in.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

The night was warmer than she remembered it - the heat of the day seemed to be gracefully melting into coolness when she first got up. Now, the soft whisper of cool had settled into a mild humidity. Not entirely unpleasant - just…unexpected.

Behind the shop was a minor back “yard” of sorts - the block comprised of buildings built so close to one another that they seemed to sprout from one major vein beneath the earth. Each yard was about 6 paces from the back of each building to the end of each “fence” - and then, another line of dense buildings, packed in closely. It wasn’t uncommon to run into neighbors in their little “yards” - though many had given up on trying to cultivate any sort of greenery. Perhaps, in the distant past, these little shops and boutiques had been homes - they had a charming ramshackle nature to them that suggested years of children running up and down stairs and gossip shared through open windows. She had done her best to lean into the air of what she felt her shop used to be, and had spent many hours working in the back to hang bird feeders, create a small vegetable garden, lined the inside of her fence with flowers that changed with the season. There was a small table and chair that she’d bought from a second hand shop that she’d placed out there, and, lining one side of the fence, the designated “dog run” - she’d cobbled together a shelter of sorts. Being ever conscious about the limited space that she had, she’d made the shelter double as a flower garden. It was a row house that she’d made with scrap wood, showing varying levels of improvement as she learned as she made each one. The end result was a long rectangle, separately evenly into 4 dens (though she was always concerned that she would have to make more) that she’d furnished with her own cast off blankets and linens. She also made sure to keep out a trough of fresh water for them - one of the things she did herself after feeding the dogs in the front. Though stray dogs in the streets were frowned upon, Adesso’s group were a crafty bunch that somehow eluded the most crafty of municipal workers to be bold enough to show up at the front of her office, before retreating to the safety of her back yard.

However, her yard was an exception. Depending on what shop was which, the yards were either makeshift break rooms, back entrances for the shops, or garbage dumps. The yards being used as the latter is how Adesso first came to make the acquaintance of her favorite “shop dog” - the “creatively” named Blackie. The dogs had been long considered a nuisance by others, but not enough of a nuisance that the other shops stopped tossing out their refuse into the small walkways that bisected the middle of the yards. Stray cats weren’t uncommon - but Adesso left those creatures firmly in the care of Mrs. Vonne, who ran the yarn shop at the end of the row. Personally, Adesso couldn't abide by the beasts. The dogs, at least, she thought, she could get close to.

Blackie was waiting out back for her now, his curled tail waving gently over his back in a subtle greeting. If Adesso had anything close to a “pet”, perhaps he would be it. She never tried to chain him, collar him, but he was her most stalwart “visitor”, usually choosing her yard to sleep in, and being the first to greet her. He’d warmed to Drago as well, though it was clear that Adesso was his “person.” He was a large dog, with mismatched eyes of blue and brown, and a collection of white around his muzzle, offering a hint at his age. The rest of him, save for a white splotch on his chest, his feet, and the tip of his tail, was a deep black, glossier now that he’d allowed Adesso to actually brush him on occasion. At the sight of him, Adesso smiled, and sat down on the back steps, not bothering to go to the little area that she had set up for sitting. Blackie sat beside her, and without further preamble, rested his large head on her lap. Chuckling, she fished a cigarette and matchbook out of her breast pocket. Long hours spent with him, just like this, had taught her the fine art of doing things with one hand.

Lighting up after one fumble (a new record), she took in a long inhale of the cigarette, before exhaling a pale blue plume of smoke into the sky. Her fingers running through the surprisingly fine fur of the dog’s head, she let her mind drift over all that she’d learned. There was always a moment, that initial feeling of being pulled suddenly into deep, dark water, the panic of having the hopes, dreams, wishes of her clients resting on her shoulders - to be the genie that had all of the answers, when she was as human as the next person. Then there was the shuttling of all emotion - the getting down to brass tacks, as it were.

I’ve got two missing people in two days, she mused to herself. Two different walks of life, literally, but in enough of a circle that they could have possibly intersected. Unlikely, but stranger things have happened. The best place to start would be Vlad’s. I should lead with Sir Geofri, then, ask about the girl. Boala.

Another long inhale, a flicking of ash from between her long fingers. Blackie didn’t budge, far too content with the head scratches.

At some point, their points would diverge - Boala and Sir Geofri’s - she knew that. Though Sir Stefan seemed to think that they were emerging from a Depression, the reality on the streets was quite different - the fact that Boala still had a job, one that paid well, spoke volumes. And being in Eastside had offered some protection, but not enough for her not to notice neighbors moving out to the country to try their luck with farming, as it seemed to be the only place that was still hiring or still had viable work. Unless they were lucky enough to catch the eye of the Nobility, luxury shops here had been the first to shutter.

Though, I’m sure they may have emptied out some of the Warrens, she thought, with a bit of bitterness. If there was one thing that wars were good for, it was clearing out the poor and less fortunate - though never too much to disrupt the lifestyles of the rich. So the world goes.

“Well, then, Blackie - looks like I may need to clean up a bit, if I’m going to Vlad’s.”

The dog looked up at her, and let out a contented grumble.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The light brown skin of Stefan’s smooth, manicured hands contrasted with the peeling whitewash on the ancient wooden door. He pushed it open, the scent of musty old books wafting into his nose.

Stefan had checked two bookstores near Adesso’s Eastside office before he found the library a few blocks away. As soon as he saw the building he mentally kicked himself. Of course she used the library. He should have realized it sooner. He’d picked up on her frugality, but he’d assumed that she bought her books. She did have shelves full of them in her office, but perhaps they were gifts or books that the library didn’t carry. In any case, the shopkeepers in the two bookstores said she wasn’t a regular customer, so Stefan was here in the local library to speak to the librarian.

The building was old, but well-maintained. It seemed to fit with the rest of the neighborhood around Adesso’s office, almost like a theme. The people here may not have had the resources that he had now, or even that he’d had before he was Nighted, but they turned what they had into things of simple beauty. Stefan admired it, but it made him feel slightly out of place. He was used to the more expensive parts of Lavachia.

Once he saw the librarian look at him with that wide-eyed, open-mouthed smile—the one that women gave him, that smile that told him he had her undivided attention, whether it was because of his fine, tailored suit or his perfectly symmetrical face—that was when he started to feel comfortable.

“Good night, ma’am,” crawled out between his smiling lips, accompanied by a tip of his cap.

She sighed. “Oh! Um, good night sir!” She paused, continuing sheepishly. “We don’t get many Gentlemen like yourself in here. Oh! What can I do t—for you?”

He leaned one elbow on the counter. The woman was buttoned into a prim scarlet dress, graying brown hair tied up on the back of her head in a neat bun. He could sense her heart racing. “You know, it is so nice to find a friendly face. Thank you for being so welcoming.” She blushed. “When I saw you, I thought I bet that pretty woman with the kind eyes can help me. What’s your name, miss?”

She batted the air near his forearm. “Well, aren’t you a flirt!” She put a hand on her chest. “I’m Maria, sir.”

Stefan flashed his most winning smile, teeth sparkling in the lantern light. Even though his fangs were showing, it wasn’t threatening at all. Her heart fluttered. “It’s nice to meet you, Maria. And, please, call me Stefan.” He knew she would add a “sir” to that. It would be a major faux pas not to. “I’ve made a new friend, a woman who is doing some work for me. I want to give her a gift, and I need some advice from a helpful woman like you about what she might like.” That was mostly true. He probably would buy her a gift at some point, even if tonight he was only here to learn more about her. “I believe she comes in here regularly? Adesso Mano?”

The woman nodded, dreamily, leaning further over the counter until their faces were only a few inches away. “Yes, she’s one of our regular lendees.”

That bright, dazzling smile was back on Stefan’s face. “I knew I came to the right woman, Maria. What kinds of books does she check out?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t tell you that. That’s private!”

Stefan’s face fell, exaggerated frown and wide, watery eyes his only response.

“Oh, I suppose I could look at the logs.”

His smile returned, Stefan waited patiently. It was fun for him, seeing the way Maria reacted to his attention. He could understand why Geofri preferred to Kiss women without the red band. It would be more of a challenge, a game, than just walking up and taking his meal.

Maria pulled a large book out from under the counter, opening it to reveal lists of Lavachians and their borrowed books.

“Here’s one, from just last night: Waterfowl of Greater Lavachia.” Stefan nodded as she kept scanning for Adesso’s name. “More wildlife books, cookbooks, r—um,” she stumbled, skipping a listing. “Books on gardening.” She blushed, quickly closing the heavy logbook.

Stefan clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “Maria, you said you would help me, and now you’ve skipped something. I’d like to get her something she’ll really enjoy, not just use. Surely there’s something she reads more for pleasure? Maybe some fiction?”

Maria considered it. “Oh, sir, do not discount the pleasures of non-fiction. I shouldn’t tell you anything else, but since you’re her friend: there are some, um.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Romantic novels in this list.”

Stefan’s smile was its widest yet. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, you beautiful creature.”

Maria turned beet red, and then she leaned in, utterly failing to make her next words sound nonchalant and unpointed. “Oh, I’m barely put together; I even left my red band at home.”

Ah. Perhaps Stefan had given himself too much credit for his seduction skills. He didn’t really want to Kiss her at the moment. He’d already had a meal earlier that evening, and now he would be jittery all night. Still, he reached out for her wrist, the soft skin slightly wrinkled with age. Her heart was pounding now.

He gave a crooked smirk, full of playful accusation. “Would you like to touch yourself first?”

Her reply had no voice, only heavy breath. “No! Not here. And I—I don’t think it will be, um, necessary.” She swallowed, a nervous gulp. He wouldn’t have cared if there were anyone else in the library, but she was probably glad it was empty.

“As you wish.”

Stefan lowered his face and brought her wrist up to his lips, his deep brown eyes never leaving her own. His fangs danced across her skin, bringing out a giggle before he let them pierce into her vein with a surgeon’s precision. He wrapped his lips around the tiny wound and suckled, blood filling his mouth and stiffening the cock in his pants. The Gentle Kiss was liquid bliss, tingling his nerves and fueling his fire. Across from him, Maria moaned, eyelids fluttering. Her breath came in ragged gasps between throaty groans of pleasure. She must’ve been close before he’d even touched her. As soon as Stefan heard her go over the edge, he slowed his suckling until it was only a trickle, and then stopped. He licked the wound to close it, and held her hand as she shook, humming to herself.

It had been mostly for her benefit, but he thanked her anyway. “That was delicious.” He wasn’t lying. She was a sweet woman, and the personality came through in the blood. Maria laid her head on the counter.

“A few, hhhhh, weeks ago...she borrowed one of our, uh, naughty books.”

Stefan leaned down to give the spent woman a polite kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Maria. You’ve been very helpful.”

He made it outside before the indignant chuckle escaped his red-tinted lips. That hypocrite! Stefan had noticed Adesso’s expression when he’d danced around the subject of sex. She’d been put out by his polite euphemisms, and yet here she was indulging in erotica! From a library!

He shook his head as he walked away down the cobblestone street, his hands fidgeting, squeezing and pulling the edge of his overcoat.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She had done her best to pull herself together. Put on her overcoat, brushed off the worst of the dog hair. But yet, as she approached the door to Vlad’s, she looked as if she’d slept in her coat, or, better yet, had left it in a crumpled heap on the floor before deciding to put it on. Though it was a light linen, perfect for the heat, the wrinkles in it seemed baked in. Still, it was clean, and the faint fragrance of her perfume wafted behind her, tangled with the long trail of cigarette smoke.

Waiting until she finished the last drag, she hailed a cab. Conacton wasn’t far, but too far to go on foot, and entirely too far when time was of the essence. She gave the cabbie her destination, and a fond grin to the horse, a majestic chestnut mare. Animals really were wonders on the earth. With her head pressed against the small cab window, she watched as the hard-scrabble comfort of Eastside into the relative luxury of Conacton. It was a gradual difference, a melting of the lines between districts, the unspoken promise that with enough hard work and the right connections, you too could end up here. It was subtle changes at first - more space between buildings, greener lawns. Rich bursts of flowers, ornate hanging lights, and then, finally, the buildings themselves caught up to the growing luxury that laced the land together - growing higher, more ornate, crisp in their whitewash.

After an extra tip to the cabbie and a stroke of the mare’s nose, she was on the streets of Conacton. Lighting a cigarette, she took in a long breath as she looked around, orienting herself. Evening was really beginning to stretch out, though it was still early enough to still have a bit of the early night calm to it. Still, she could hear the clink of glasses from outside diners, the low hum of conversation, musicians preparing themselves, tip-toeing into the song selections of the night. All in all, a normal night here - kept humming on the endless labor of the unseen.

She walked as she smoked, hands by her side, walking with purpose. From the causal nature of her office, there was a shift in her posture, a straightening, a hardening, that suggested what she was - a woman on a mission, with no eye for frivolities. She was at Vlad’s soon enough, and, thoughtfully, she put out her cigarette, looking for the nearest waste basket. No matter how sloppy she may have appeared to others, the idea of just throwing a lit cigarette butt was abhorrent to her. Vlad’s was suitably upscale - the kind of upscale that suggested menus without visible prices listed and painted over with the veneer of aping what a “peasant’s” life would be like: hearty commoner fare plated for the palate of the very rich who would never actually deign to eat at a commoner table.

As the night’s business was beginning to get underway, the hostess was standing in front of the open doorway, offering warm smiles to those that passed through, waving them in with a graceful sweep of her arm. Self importance fairly dripped off of her, and, as she looked at Adesso, the sunshine smile faltered into a curdled impression of politeness.

“Are you a member?” she asked, somewhat curtly. Adesso, used to being spoken down to and knowing how to tune it out, shook her head in the negative.

“I’m not, but I wanted to know if Sir Geofri was.” There was no hopeful tone to Adesso’s voice; the same, calm, soothing tones she used when she spoke normally. Wheedling to get information out of people wasn’t a tactic of hers, and she suspected that the hostess had heard her share of sob-stories and other nonsense for people eager to get in.

The hostess, for her part, sniffed. “That’s not information I can give out to a non-member.”

“I see,” Adesso said. The hostess looked at her, mildly shocked that it didn’t instantly dissolve into an argument. “That’s fair; protecting the interest of your members.”

“But of course,” the hostess scoffed, turning her nose up at Adesso. “And as you have no membership, and no sponsor, you have no business here.”

Fake pearls. Too much facial powder.

A glance down at the hostess’s hands showed that they were manicured perfectly, but the raw pink of her knuckles suggested a harder life than her fine dress and hair would confess to. Adesso observed; decided not to comment.

Has worked for years before this break. Guards her position jealously.

“I do, actually, still have business here. And if you are in no position to help, through no fault of your own, of course, is there a member of management that I could speak to?”

The hostess’s face twisted into incredibly bitter, a squinting of her green eyes as she looked at Adesso as she would a pile of horse droppings. “Why would you need to speak to management if you have no true business here?”

Adesso smiled, a wan, world weary thing that bespoke of inner knowledge and a wealth of secrets. The hostess, taken aback, took a moment to regain her composure, drawing into herself and puffing out.

“I’m an investigator, you see,” Adesso started, reaching into the rumpled depths of her coat. Finding what she was looking for, she pulled it out. It was a palm-sized well-worn brown wallet, the leather darkened from many years of handling. Flipping it open, it would reveal the dull, copper-plated badge of the licensed investigator. It was different than the badge of a police officer - but due to her previous work as a detective of the Lavachia police force, there was a solid gold fleur-de-lis in the top left hand corner; a distinguishing mark that was far more than just a pretty embellishment. “And that’s why I have business here - it’s really a simple matter.”

The hostess’s face blanched as she took in Adesso’s badge. On its own, it was fairly nondescript - a copper framed shield, with the gold emblem at the top left, the number 6 blazoned in the middle - marking her as a “6th rank” when it came to the loose designations of law enforcement and investigators. “1” and “2” were unheard of; the secret rank, as it were - those close to the Queen, and therefore would never be seen on the streets - at least not in waking hours. “3” would be a higher ranking officer; a captain or higher. 4 was a detective, 5 a “normal” police officer, and 6 - a private investigator. Typically, level 6 badges had little embellishments; the copper alone that framed them a secret upturned nose that spoke of a lack of official training and seriousness. However, the emblem of the crown (that fleur de lis) was the saving grace of her badge - that, and the smaller, less ornate gold pimpernel that was embossed on the right side of her shield, further designating that not only had she been on the police force, but had been a detective - a badge that spoke volumes in both who she was and her levels of expertise. There was enough information on the face of that badge that even the most lay person would know that they were dealing with a professional - no matter how lackadaisical and ill-put together she looked.

The look on the hostess’s face spoke volumes to Adesso - that flicker of concern, that frown, that tightening. “Investigator or not,” the hostess scowled, “Without a membership, or a patron, I cannot let you in, nor will I bother with the manager. Now, you can either leave, or I can have someone escort you away.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The office was quiet. Other than shooing away Denis, a troublesome local pickpocket, Drago didn’t have any visitors or customers to interact with. Once the office was spotless, he considered finding something to do somewhere else. For the moment, though, he picked up a book off the bookshelf and sat in the sitting room to read. He sat in the chair that customers used, of course. He would never sit in Miss Mano’s chair.




Stefan wandered around Eastside for only a few minutes before making his way toward the Plateau. The walls around the opulent district were tall, but the gates were open at night. After all, there were plenty of officers of the law to manage any troublemakers, and the residents were more than capable of protecting themselves during the hours of darkness. During the day, however, the district would take on a more ordered, even authoritarian ambience. The gates would be closed, the commoners dismissed, and the Smokeglass Guard would patrol the streets. It may have been overkill, but something about living for centuries tends to make one paranoid.

Stefan possessed none of this paranoia yet, and at the moment it was inconvenient for him. With the doormen and building staff dismissed before dawn every day, it was impossible to truly know if Geofri had been back home. Still, he wanted to check. He walked up to Geofri’s building, his fingers dancing along his dark red hem. The doorman was a courteous, professional sort, superficially reminding Stefan of the detective’s assistant, but older and less handsome. “Sebastian, how are you tonight?”

The man’s face fell. “Sir Stefan, I’m afraid there’s still no word from or of Sir Geofri.”

Stefan appreciated him getting straight to the point, but he was disappointed. He’d had no reason to think his brother would have just shown up after two nights, but he’d hoped. There was still more that he could ask, though. “Thank you for letting me know, Sebastian. Were you able to speak with the staff who were on duty Tuesnight?”

He nodded, not showing any irritation at Stefan’s question, despite the fact that he’d only asked to have them confirm what Sebastian had seen himself that night. “I did, sir. Andreea and Alina. Andreea was in the lobby and saw your brother leave just before midnight. She hasn’t seen him since. Alina was upstairs and didn’t see him at all.”

That had been exactly the timeline Sebastian had given him last night. “Thank you, Sebastian. I appreciate your thoroughness.” He pulled out a few coins, enough for a courier fee, a small tip for the courier, and a larger tip for Sebastian. “Could you do me a favor and have the next courier that comes by send word to the Countess? She’ll be furious with me if I don’t let her know about Geofri.” Though Lavachia had a handful of Countesses, Stefan knew Sebastian wouldn’t have any doubts that he was talking about Countess Donia.

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” With a nod, Stefan was off down the cobblestone street. Perhaps he would walk down to Conacton and check in with Mayer. He had energy to burn off from his encounter with Maria, and he wanted some way to spend his time anyway.

He was still chuckling to himself about his discovery about Adesso. Stefan was a fan of erotica himself, but the incongruity of her reaction to his rather tame words with her apparently clandestine library log entries amused him. So, the mysterious detective wasn’t totally asexual after all. That was a revelation. He wondered what kind of erotica she enjoyed. Would it reveal more about her character?

His mind drifted to the image of her in her masculine clothing, no more unkempt than usual, sitting in her wingback chair, one scuffy boot on the arm. He imagined her home looked much like her office: simple, well-maintained, full of books and more of her favorite things, but organized enough not to appear cluttered. She would probably be away from the fire, the sunrise just starting to tease her windows. Her book would be in one hand, and perhaps her other hand would be rubbing her legs through her breeches, maybe even without her realizing it. Her pouty lips would be parted, quick and forceful breaths flying past them. Her dark eyes glued to the page as her free hand moved about her body unsupervised.

He hadn’t noticed if her breeches were fly breeches, but perhaps they were. Perhaps she would pause to unfasten them just before her book reached the very good bits. Stefan wondered how she kept the hair that would poke out as her free hand disappeared to explore her revealed treasures. Would she continue, while clothed, to bring herself to her peak? Or retire to her chambers to finish her story in prone comfort?

Stefan’s fingers had stopped fidgeting for the first time since he’d left the library, and he took a breath he’d been holding. Perhaps Adesso was even more interesting a woman than he’d realized. He found himself evaluating her with a more physical, primal, essentially male eye.

She was a handsome woman, that was sure, and Stefan would be willing to bet that she would only grow more lovely as she embraced that part of herself that sought out erotica from the library. Perhaps someone could help her explore that part of herself? Perhaps that someone could be him?

His breeches tightened at the thought. He hadn’t considered her in a sexual manner until now, but now that he did he could scarcely consider anything else. He didn’t even notice that he’d arrived at the top of the Ramp, the huge set of archways that carried the Artery down the Midtown Cliff of Lavachia. He walked down near the railed edge with the other pedestrians, leaving the center to the numerous carts making their nightly journeys across the city. It was only about a hundred feet down, but the Ramp was nearly a quarter-mile long. It was bustling on this warm Thursnight, and Stefan tipped his hat to anyone who acknowledged him.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

The hostess had something to hide, but somehow, Adesso doubted it had anything to do with her case. Probably something much more mundane, like an a workplace affair. The hostess didn't wear a wedding band, but that meant little, especially here, where sex was a currency. Whatever money couldn’t, or wouldn’t, buy, a little sex would ease it along. It made sense, in a mercenary way, and Adesso truly didn’t feel strongly one way or another towards those who used it.

Though she didn’t quite get the answer that she wanted, she at least sent the impression that there was someone with proper credentials looking around. Well - if her luck held, and that was a tenuous thing. Best to come by a second time, when the night was truly under way. Lighting another cigarette, she leaned against the side of a building, exhaling a lone plume of smoke into the darkening night. She was unnoticeable - a nothing in a floating world of bubbling champagne and fancy dresses, and it was that nothingness that allowed her to move with such ease, and to be ignored even now, when anyone else could have been harassed for loitering.

Fishing in her coat pocket, she took a look at her watch. It was still early, and she was at a bit of an impasse. Vlad’s was her only connection that could have strung both of her clients together, and she didn’t relish the idea of looking into the Nobility for further information on Sir Geofri. Chances were that the person that would know best of his movements would be Countess Donia, and there was no badge that Adesso could have held (or faked), that would have granted her an audience with the woman.

Still, she was here - and there was nothing that was more beneficial to any sort of detective than actually knowing the area. And so, without a place in particular in mind, she began to walk, letting the sounds and sights wash over her. She smoked as she walked, slipping in and out of the crowds, a dark thing flickering between spots of light. Not that she minded - and certainly not that anyone else minded, or paid attention to her.

Ah. It hit her, as she passed by a fine boutique, offering the finest clothing. Sir Stefan’s family shop. I should have gotten the name of it.

But.

There was no problem with asking now. And so, she entered into the botique, careful to put out her cigarette before entering. That alone was typically enough to endear her to shop owners, especially those that sold clothing or fabric. While it was uncommon for those with money to continue smoking indoors at their own discretion, to have someone show a quiet courtesy of not doing so meant that they held the shop in high regards. And, though her luck at Vlad’s had been poor, it held here. The shop proprietor, without any extra provocation, gave up the name of the shop, and even offered suggestions on what to purchase. To that, Adesso would give him a kind smile, the gesture pulling the corners of her eyes like a cat’s. At that, the shop owner tried to convince her to try, just for him, this cravat he’d gotten in that he thought would look particularly fetching on her. Waving him away with her thanks and a promise to come by again, she was on her way to Reiter Imports.

Well - almost.

The cravat that he'd shown her was lovely - but the coloring wasn't quite for her. Still, as her fingers ran over the fine silk, she knew it was a quality piece - and the color, while not meant for her, was a lovely hue of dawn-soaked lavender that she thought would really bring out Drago's eyes. And it'd been a while since she'd gotten anything for him; he had been kind enough to pick up her microscope without asking, after all.

So, as she headed towards Reiter Imports, it was with the cravat, carefully boxed and wrapped, tucked into one of the inner pockets of her vest. She preferred not to travel with her satchel, as it was too much of a target for pick pockets and could be burdensome if she had to chase after someone. It seemed a silly thing, but after having to suddenly give chase in the past, she figured any probability that could planned for should be.

It really would look lovely on him, she thought. He has such clear, pale skin and those rosy cheeks. This will really bring out the color of his eyes. And it won't clash with his red band.

Though she seemed to be impassive on the outside, there was a warmth inside that kept her footsteps light. She never had been all that great with her words, let alone anything close to affection, but...well, whenever she got something for Drago, no matter how small, she felt like how she felt was actually getting across to him. Even if she ended up leaving things on his desk, or shoving them into his hands and walking away quickly.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Stefan felt at home on Artier Way, better known as the Artery, along with many other streets in Conacton. He’d grown up here, in his parents' apartment on the fourth floor of the building that still housed Reiter Imports, his family’s business. That was where he was headed now. With lunch approaching, there should be few customers, if any. The shop was never full of people, their inventory being quite high-end and partially commission-based. Still, he didn’t want to interrupt Mayer, especially since he was stopping by for an impromptu visit.

He stepped off the bottom of the Ramp, looking over at Vlad’s Restaurant, beginning to seat a few of their wealthy members on the patio for lunch. There was some connection between one of Adesso’s other cases and this restaurant, but he hadn’t caught exactly what it was. Would she be there right now? He couldn’t see her. He kept walking, unsure whether he was subconsciously looking for her or not.

Unless it was for a case, he guessed there would be little reason for her to come to this part of the city, with its wealth and extravagance. He enjoyed the finer things in life, though, and maybe he could introduce her to some of the food things that money could buy.

He walked past a few busy boutiques, glad that his Noble Condition kept him from experiencing the pain and fatigue that would normally come with the excessive distance he had walked tonight. From the Plateau to Eastside, back home and down the Ramp was a number of miles, and it was barely past midnight. He wasn’t above the occasional cab ride, especially with company, but there was something freeing about the cobblestones beneath his feet.

Another block and Stefan was within sight of the shop, on the east side of Artier Way, nestled between a lovely bakery and a conspicuously odorous and expensive cheese shop. The smell didn’t make it outside often, though, thankfully. It was against the brick wall of his shop that he saw Adesso Mano, leaning against the building to smoke. She looked relaxed, utterly unconcerned with the masses teeming around her.

Stefan wasn’t sure if it was despite her masculine attire that he was attracted to her, or because of it. Part of her appeal to him was the apathy she displayed toward the social posturing that most of the wealthy women milling about the Artery were engaged in. It was refreshing, and he believed it to be a sign of good character.

Not that Stefan felt any ill will toward the women in elaborate corsets and embroidered dresses. He’d been intimate with quite a few such women like that over the years, and befriended more. They were often deeper than they appeared. It was often just easier to go with the flow of culture than against it. And, some of them genuinely enjoyed the intricacies of feminine fashion.

Maybe it was the extra blood still buzzing its way out of his system, but Stefan decided to do something he never did. He decided to show off. Exhibiting one’s Noble Gifts in public wasn’t frowned upon, per se, but it could be seen as a bit ostentatious. Still, he ran the last two blocks to Reiter Imports in only a few short seconds, the air rushing past him, his coat rippling in the wind. In a flash, he was leaning against the wall next to Adesso, knee casually bent. There was no sign that he’d just run faster than would be possible for the fastest athlete among the common people: no sweat, no deep breaths, no momentum keeping him off balance.

“Adesso, here to speak with Mayer? I don’t want to interrupt.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

There weren't any street vendors here.

It was so...odd. No matter how many times she’d ventured into the richer districts, it was the smaller details that always stuck out to her. Though, as she looked up into the night sky at the long curls of her cigarette smoke, she wondered if she was just simply starting to get hungry. Back in Eastside, she would have grabbed a small something, if not an early lunch, by this time. And the walking hadn’t helped. The heavy chignon of her hair helped cushion her head as it was tilted back against the cool brick wall.

The disruption in her cigarette smoke alerted her to his presence before he spoke - at least, it did for her. It would have startled anyone else - and perhaps he had expected to startle her. After working with various members of the Nobility and enduring certain levels of “pranks” born out of cruelty, camaraderie, and misplaced affections (why was it that men still insisted on pulling the proverbial pigtails of the women they liked?), she’d learned to develop more acute awareness - something as simple as a shift in the wind, a heaviness in the air, could be a tell for creatures that could move on paper feet.

She didn’t answer, not at first - taking another lazy drag, before grinding out the cigarette against the side of the building, and then tucking the half-smoked thing away into her inner vest. No point in wasting a cigarette that still had life in it. “Not quite,” she said, measured as always. Letting the last trail of smoke stream easily from her nose, she turned to face him.

Has he been following me?

No; I would have known.

Would you have, though?

Mmm, probably not. He certainly wasn’t here a few moments ago.

If he wasn’t here when you got here, and you’ve been here long enough to smoke half a cigarette, he probably saw you. You’re not exactly hiding.

But might as well put him on the spot. He had embarassed her earlier, after all. Well, maybe not “embarassed”, but he made her feel something that she hadn’t really liked. Cloudy-headed. And from the looks of him, leaning on the wall next to her, he had not the slightest bit of remorse towards his earlier actions.

“Why? Have you been following me?” A small smile. Adesso’s smiles, in a world full of expressions heavy with unspoken meaning, were so simple as to be startling. There was no coyness, no wheedling, no coquettish flirtation. Just an upward quirk of her lips that said nothing more than she was slightly amused - but always with that world-weariness that could edge either towards a deep sorrow, the burden of her years of knowledge that, in some, could provoke a fierce sense of wanting to protect her, suddenly seeing her as something vulnerable.

She’d meant for it to sound teasing - like how other women spoke; she’d heard it - but it sounded as flat as any other question she would have asked. If she was dismayed by her lack of teasing tone, it didn’t show. Eh; couldn’t win them all - and before she had even started down the path of good natured ribbing, she found herself realizing that not only that she’d made a mistake, but that the mere thought of it made her inexplicably tired.

“I suppose,” she started, her dark eyes focused on his, unwavering, focused, “that it would be hard to go on about life as usual out of concern for your brother.” Sympathetic, now; understanding in a way that felt like an arm around his shoulder. Transparency had always been one of her better attributes, and she saw no need in hiding anything. If Sir Stefan was untrustworthy, time would tell. But somehow, she didn’t get that sense from him.

Are you sure it’s not your hormones?

I’m pretty sure.

Why would it be?

He’s handsome, yes, but all Nobility are.

Yes, but he looks at me a little differently - longer, almost.

Because he wants something from you.

Come on, Adesso. Focus.

What would he have to gain from his brother’s disappearance?

That’s what it always boiled down to - figuring out crimes. What people had to gain from someone missing, of taking gold, of seducing a wife.

“I was actually going to speak to Mayer to see when the last time he saw Sir Geofri, since my first plan of the night didn’t go well.” A flash of that small smile, tired, now. “Your brother is not the only missing persons case that I’m handling at the moment, and I thought to kill two birds with one stone. Does your brother frequent Vlad’s, by any chance? I was quite roundly told off by the hostess that without a patron or a membership that even my questions weren’t allowed.”

A shrug of her shoulders; it had been a hindrance, yes, but she knew if she kept at it, she’d turn something up. Investigator work was helmed by diligence, after all.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Stefan realized he had miscalculated. Adesso’s lack of reaction didn’t seem forced, a prdeful feigned ignorance at his superhuman abilities. She may genuinely even not have noticed. Stefan couldn’t tell. His smug grin vanished. It had been juvenile for him to think she would respond to such a display. Just as he was about to apologize, Adesso answered his question.


With no accusatory tone, and her small smile the only hint of playfulness, she asked him if he was following her, and Stefan’s confidence rebounded. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile of his own, less arrogant this time, warmer. He started to reply, but Adesso cut him off again.

Sympathy was not Stefan was used to receiving. He was wealthy, handsome, and immortal. His life was the envy of the masses. But, he was afraid for his brother, and he appreciated her gesture. Tentative and cool as it was, from her it was soothing. His smile remained, more somber and reflective now. He didn’t know what to say. Ha, another rare experience for him.

He stood up straight, feeling foolish leaning against the wall. “Thank you, Adesso, for your kind words.” His voice was calm and earnest, his posture formal. This woman certainly kept the handsome nobleman on his toes. He’d intended to turn on the charm, putting her off balance with wit and his dazzling smile, and here he was, driven to sincerity in seconds. It was frustrating in a way that challenged him. She was unique, and that would have been enough to draw him to her on its own, but she was also a handsome woman, and impressive in her own right.

Adesso’s question brought him back to reality. So he'd just missed her at Vlad’s, then. Geofri was a member, as was he, so there was some merit to it, and Stefan had no objection to helping Adesso follow a thread from another case, for multiple reasons.

“Geofri and I are both members. I don’t know when the last time either of us were there, but I think it’s worth finding out. If he was there on Tuesnight, or after, that would be more than we know so far.” Stefan held out his arm, curious if she would take it. It could be seen as either a polite, formal gesture for a walk to an elegant restaurant, or a more personal, companionable opportunity to touch each other. He wouldn’t mind if she declined, of course, but he would enjoy the contact if she didn’t.

“I would be more than happy to escort you, and we can ask as many questions as you’d like about your other case. Hopefully Doamna is there--she’s...um, I should be able to convince her to cooperate with any questions you have.” Stefan blushed, thinking about the red-banded owner of Vlad’s, and how forward she had been the last time he was there. “If not, I’m sure any of the other managers will speak with us.”

While she considered it, Stefan smiled at her, his confidence fully returned. “And, just for your notes, I saw you while I was on my way here. I was not following you. And, for that, you have my deepest regrets and most sincere apologies.” He was mostly teasing her, but he was also becoming more and more aware that she was a woman worth keeping tabs on.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Against the same wall, he was closer to her than he was in the office. It normally would have (should have) meant nothing, but this close, the effect of his smile was a sucker punch to the gut. Somehow, this small, sincere thing from him was so much more dazzling, piercing, than the first time she saw him smile. That, she’d tried to tell herself, was something that she had to steel herself against, a use of charm to get what he wanted, stoking that long dormant desire in her. This one…hurt her, almost. It tugged at her heart, made her wish that he’d look like that at her and only her.

Oh, no.

“That’s good,” she managed to say, surprised that her voice held firm. Then, realizing that her statement was quite vague, she added, “That you and him were members of the club. It’ll make following up a bit easier. But while I’m here - I do think that it would be in my best interest to ask Mayer a few questions.”

His sudden appearance, though a surprise, wasn’t enough to really shake her off the path that she’d quickly made up in her mind. With Vlad’s shut to her, it would have been remiss of her not to follow up on any other leads. “I know that you mentioned that you did not visit here often, but that doesn’t mean that your brother didn’t.” Despite her initial flustered reaction to his smile, she’d somehow found her ground again, and was looking at him steadily, her eyes holding his.

And, when he offered his arm, she simply brushed past him. Rude, on first glance, but, in the moment that she pushed past him, her arm did brush against his. His heightened senses would be able to detect the racing of her heart, the tightening of her nipples at that slight touch. As cool as she appeared, he was having an effect on her: a rope twisted too tightly would start to fray. A deep breath, and, as if waking from a dream, she turned to face him again, with that small smile again. “I’m sorry,” the words came effortlessly; meaningful. “That was rude…I..” She swallowed, closed her eyes. Fought back the two tides that were crashing against each other within her. “I usually work the field alone. If you’d like, you can come into the shop with me while I question Mayer - otherwise, you could wait. Though I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Stefan was shocked when she shoved his arm away. When his Noble Senses detected her increased heart rate, for an instant he had thought he had enraged her somehow. An indistinct guilt raced through him. Then, he caught the distinct, subtle signs of arousal. His guilt was replaced by a blend of intrigue, amusement, and his own arousal.

Yes, I would like to bed her.

His mind had been dancing around the idea all night, but now he knew for certain. The jitters that had flooded his system with Maria’s Kiss now focused him on the woman in front of him, giving him an intense, hawk-like gaze. Adesso was flustered. She appreciated his beauty; perhaps she still thought that was all there was to him. Convincing her otherwise was his task. He suspected the frustration she’d displayed was actually directed at herself for feeling arousal around him, a man she thought a beautiful curiosity, substanceless. Hmmmm, how to remove that obstacle?

Stefan enjoyed seeing her compose herself. It looked taxing. He fought to keep the amused grin off his face to avoid provoking her. “No apology is necessary, Adesso.” A warmer smile won purchase on his lips.

He considered accompanying her, desperate to see The Great Adesso Mano in action, but decided against it. “No, I suspect it would be best to avoid Mayer considering my opinions while you question him. I shall await you here…” He paused in thought. His fine sense of smell was beginning to detect a rather pungent roquefort. “or perhaps inside the bakery next door, to accompany you to Vlad’s.”

He gave Adesso a small nod as she went inside, and he leaned back against the brick to wait. He didn’t last a quarter hour before the blue cheese drove him into the bakery.