Changeling the Lost: Unseen Costs (IC)

[HobbitGuy1420]

"Yes, Mister Nightshade?" says the now familiar voice as Voyczyk picks up the phone. He's obviously not much for small talk.

Free arrives at the garage to find Mal finishing up what looks like a bloody surgery on a woman's leg, then grasping hold of it and using what must be a contract to seal the skin closed again.

[crapcarp]

"I wanted to let you know I'm heading over to the crime scene," Dale replies as he approaches his car. After he finishes the conversation with Voyczyk, he'll drive on over to start his investigation(barring anything that might prevent him from doing so, of course).

[HobbitGuy1420]

"Very good. You'll find a man named Mr. Barrister waiting for you. He should be able to answer any questions."

The crime scene is one of the many skyscrapers which make up the Chicago skyline. This one combines the elegance of an old-style hotel with the soullessness of a modern office building. The security guard at the front desk stops you to get your name, but when answered fishes out a key to hand to you. That key fits into a slot in the elevator, granting access to the penthouse suite.

The suite looks like an upscale art gallery; there are dozens of paintings and sculptures lining the walls and spaced about the rooms, and none were done with less than masterly skill. You recognize several paintings by sight, and art history isn't exactly your focus.

The plinth where the missing statue stood is not only glaringly empty, but looks to have been broken; the flat top seems to have sheared off at an angle and there's a small pile of basalt-and-marble rubble at the base.

"Are you 'Nightshade?'" Asks a voice behind you. The disdain filling nomme de guerre is palpable.

You turn to see a tall caucasian man, probably a fit early 40s, with brown hair that's just barely starting to grey. The lines of his suit make it clear that he's got at least one shoulder holster on beneath his suit.

[Dwyad]

Mal glances up from the shockingly effective meatball surgery - for fuck's sake, she reattached a severed foot, here, with catgut, prayers and a carpet knife! She doesn't even bother washing the blood off her hands yet, she just jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the chunk of rock on the table. "That thing slammed into Fred's bridge, hard, punched a great big hole, ruined my whole day - not as much as her's, mind, but still." She nods sharply at the woman in front of her.

"Ah, right, introductions. Mal, Malory Grey, I run this little house of miracles here. Think I saw ya before, maybe, at the Hold? Or maybe it was some other spacegirl?" Yeah, it says interesting things about your life that "some other spacegirl" is a viable option. And yeah, she's more than a bit flippant with that label, but..Wizened, y'know?

"Anyway, that thing there. Actually not a meteor, 'least not if I know anything about meteors, which I mostly don't, but I'm pretty sure they've got metal in 'em. That looks like..Basalt, maybe, regular ol' Earth-rock. I didn't haul ya all the way out here for nothin', though - pull up a chair, take a closer look. See the horn shape? And there, looks kinda like the line of a brow. right at the hairline. This thing was worked on - only, not. No tool marks anywhere, most unnatural piece'a nature I've seen in a while."

She gives all that a moment to sink in.

"So, first off, what *is* it? Looks like some kinda Hedge-gargoyle got the top of 'is head clipped, but that's just an educated guess. An' secondly, for all the marbles, what the hell's it doing here, now? No idea on that'n, which is where you come in."

[crapcarp]

No wonder this Voyczyk wants this case off the books, this guy's filthy rich! And obviously has a big reputation at stake. Dale turns his attention from the plinth over to the man as soon as he speaks.

"That would be me," Dale answers flatly, not appreciating the disdain in the slightest, "You are Mr. Barrister, I presume?"

[HobbitGuy1420]

"You presume right," Barrister says, not offering a hand to shake. "You're also here over my objections, so let's dispense with the pleasantries. Do what you're here for, then get the hell out."

Geeze. You've met carnivorous hobgoblins with more warmth and friendly regard.

...which reminds you, you ought to bring Bob another kitten. It's useful to have eyes in the Hedge.

[crapcarp]

Dale turns away and walks over to the plinth to start his investigation without another word. Before he does though, he invokes the Witch's Intuition clause of Fleeting Autumn on Mr. Barrister. Judging from the fact that he is here against Barrister's wishes, it's highly likely that he works quite close to Voyczyk, probably an assistant, possibly an advisor, or maybe even a colleague.

Whatever the case may be, he has at the very least a decent connection to Voyczyk and thus has a direct tie to the case at hand, especially since he doesn't want Dale to be here. Learning a fear of his could prove useful, as well as give Dale a possible opportunity to spite his rudeness on the side.

[crapcarp]

Dale stops for a second to ponder his discovery of Mr. Barrister's fear. "Hmm, maybe I put him in a grave as Sullivan," he thinks to himself, resuming his steps towards the plinth. It doesn't take long for him to find that whoever or whatever took the statue did so through supernatural means. So now it's a question of the particular methodology.

As he continues, Mr. Barrister loudly sneezes as he passes by. A little dust probably. Then a coughing fit as he goes back. Okay, he has a cold. But it was when he stood just behind dragging along the coughs that Dale understood, so he stood up to face him. "Mr. Barrister, I know I'm here against your wishes, but the quickest way for me to leave is if I can complete my investigation in peace," he says as politely as possible.

[HobbitGuy1420]

"So stop fucking talking to me and do it already," He replies, sneering.

[crapcarp]

Dale heaves out a breath in response, then continues on with the investigation. Apparently, Mr. Barrister wanted to make things even more difficult, as he became far more obnoxious every time he passed by. Fine, it was obvious this asshole wasn't gonna let up, and reasoning was far beyond him. Dale tries his best to block him out before he finally finishes up and leaves with as much composure as he can muster.

"What a childish brat," he echoes in his head as he drives away. Time to get some much-deserved glaze after that little fiasco. Now where's a nose poking around where it doesn't belong? [He has his token in the car, by the way]

[Thrythlind]

Free blinks at the onslaught of words coming at her before she turns to look at the meteor.

"Most of what is on Earth is also in space," she commented in her odd, somewhat icy voice. "but basalt is igneous, unless it was ejected at escape velocity from another planet it is unlikely that a meteor would be basalt. I shall take a look."

She leans down to investigate the meteor.

[Thrythlind]

"You are correct, this is terrestrial basalt," she says, trying not to let a warble into her voice. "It was broken with extreme force...but, before that it was...shaped...without tools. Which could mean....you know." She nods vaguely toward the outside.