Ita McNairee: *ita takes a round about
way to the docks area, wearing no jewelry for once..les jingling, and without
anytrace of the usual bounce in her step. she's looking around warily, her hand
brushing her thigh anxiously*
Shiva: Leaning against the
outside of the warehouse, she waits for her two appointments to show up. She's
dressed the part of a either sexified French revolutionary or a well-armed
prostitute, with Doc Martins with knives tucked into the tops, fishnet
stockings, black leather halter-top with a leather jacket over, and a beret to
top it off. Her make-up is just this side of garish. A clove hangs from her
fingertips as she waits.
Adam Smith:
7,8,4,5,5,6,4,
Adam Smith: ((that's per+alert, ability apt: Alertnes, so
7 sux at diff 6, 5 sux at diff 7, 3 at diff 8))
Adam Smith:
4,3,8,10,8,8,7,
Ita McNairee: *ita spots shiva and
trundles over, barefeet padding on the cement as she fingers the tattered
remains of her dirty green skirt, her shirt is barely decent, and she smells
faintly of the sewer and soil, her voice is low and weary* Shiva loves?
: ((oi, I want to nose about!!))
Shiva: She
takes a drag and nods to Ita as she shows up. "Hey, girl. Didn't think you'd be
first one here...y'know, walking, and all."
Adam Smith: ((That was dex+stealth)) He observes the
area closely before moving in, doing his best to spot any potential ambushes or
eavesdroppers, and the best ways to escape should the shit go down. Then he
moves in, moving as quietly, as stealthily as possible.
Shiva: ((It's
an open scene, but anyone not friendly to this group will not be dealt with well
if they spy...just an FYI.))
Ita McNairee: Aye, but fer all ye kain ah
could o been liven en a trash ben tae blocks doown aye? *gives a half hearted
grin* Wha's thes ye've tae tell me noow?
Ita McNairee: (yeah. ita will sob on you! be
cautious! nose sweet lurker.. nose away!)
: ((I am not not frieldly to this group *G* but I first
need to finish a bit before I atempt to ;) give Fausto a heart attack *giggles
and hides*))
Shiva: She
smiles a little, and nods. "Hold up a bit...wait until Italian Psycho gets here.
I hate repeating, and he might have something to share."
Ita McNairee: Fausto..? *bites at her lip
in worry, looking a little like a spooky border collie the way she's looking
around at the mention of fausto* Dinnae call em tha loves.. ee wouldnae like et
tae mooch? aye sugar britches?
Adam Smith: "Go ahead then," he says from the shadows not
too far away from both of them. His hand is in his pocket, his demeanor totally
bland, almost bored. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his face is
lined with fatigue, his complexion a bit paler than they might remember. He
wears a dark watchcap onhis head, covering his hair.
Shiva: She
smirks a little. "He didn't seem to mind 'Tall, Dark, and Sadistic,' so..." A
shrug follows...and then, she allows a little concern to creep into her face.
"Are you doing okay, babe? I mean, besides the obvious 'Ivory Tower badasses
fucking me up royally and screwing with my head' bit?"
Ita McNairee: Och.. *skitters back a few
feet, then tries to cover it by adjusting whats left of her bloody green skirt
with dirty little hands*Aye.. aye dinnae worry abot ita... *she looks to fauso.
concern in HER voice now* Love? er aulright? Ye look knackered....
Shiva: She
jumps a little, then looks over at Fausto and shakes her head. "Y'know, some day
you're gonna do that, I'm gonna shoot out of impulse, and both of us will have a
horrible evening...you do remember I'm on a hit list, right?"
Adam Smith: "I remember," he says, utterly ignoring Ita.
Ita McNairee: *just looks at her feet, not
sure whether to be angry at the asshole wolf, of hurt..or both, so instead she
remains silent and bites her lip savagely*
Shiva: She
shrugs, as if to say 'whatever.' "Okay, so either of you guys familiar with the
name 'Rachel Ingram?'"
Adam Smith: Adam nods.
Ita McNairee: *shakes her head, daring a
look at Shiva... hair falling limply in her face. Wasn't an Ingram some kindo of
gun* Nae me loves..
Shiva: She
looks to Adam. "What do you know about her?"
Adam Smith: "She was Eliot's secretary. Middle Eastern,
potentially Arabic. She was one of the prime suspects in the Cam's investigation
of the explosion, after the Frenchman and the others."
Ita McNairee: *slides her eyes to Adam,
almost afraid that ouching him with her eyes is going to reslut in him touching
her with his boot, or with those huge choky hands...her brow furrows angrily at
the memory of him last time they met*
Shiva: She
shrugs. "Well, you're mostly right. She's actually Caucasian...that whole bit
about her being associated with Islamic terrorists was a nice fabrication, but a
little to '24.' Anyway, word is the APB on her's been pulled off the
table...fairly mysteriously, too."
Ita McNairee: *grumbles under her breath
in gaelic about everyone always knowing more than he, while she's the one that
ends up getting beaten for information.... i mean.. how the hell did the fucking
WOLF know these things?* Apb?
Adam Smith: "And that's significant because...?" He
continues to utterly ignore Ita and her tentative looks, although he's keeping
track of her movements in his peripheral vision.
Shiva: She
sighs. "Think about it, Fausto. Who do you think influenced the police to put
that out? And who would be able to pull it...and more importantly, why would
they, if they had it put out in the first place?"
Adam Smith: He shrugs. "Sorry, drawing a blank on that.
Maybe I don't know the players without a scorecard."
Ita McNairee: Ah dinnae undersand either...
wha's an Abp?*shifts uncomfortably and makes a small squeak as her fang
punctures her lip. she quickly licks the blood away and seals the wound..careful
not to let fausto see it, hair hanging in her face as she gets entirely confused
by the conversation, content to listen until it becomes clear*
Shiva: She
looks to Ita. "An APB is an All Points Bulletin, hon...kind of like an arrest
warrant. She was wanted for 'questioning,' and now, suddenly, she isn't
anymore."
Adam Smith: "Well, either she's dead..." he shrugs,
looking almost happy about that possibility. "Or she's convinced the powers that
be that she wasn't involved."
Ita McNairee: Oor wan o tha primo's pulled a string.. wan
o tha wans tha are en awn et aye? *scratches her head* sae tha they gawn after
the wrong folks and dinnae sniff around er tae mooch aye?
Shiva: She
nods to Ita. "Exactly...err, I think." She grins a little, and continues. "My
guess is that Rachel was in someone's pocket, and it wasn't Eliot. They put the
heat on her for a while, but made sure she isn't caught. Now, she's free to
continue serving whoever owns her, and no one's any the wiser."
Adam Smith: "Or someone has convinced the powers that be
that someone else is the real culprit."
Adam Smith: He stands there, hand in his pocket, looking a
little bored.
Ita McNairee: Aye... sae she's a right
fooken traitor then.. find oo owns er an find oo ded et. *looks at the ground,
tapping a barefoot on the pavement, voice throaty and tired* Causen they didnae
give fooken Lisa nae time tae convince em etherwise, aul tell ye tha. And
there wasnae mooch time fer ME tae dae nae "convincen" jes a lot o fooken
shooten me. *snarls at her feet*
Shiva: She
nods. "Either or, or perhaps both."
Adam Smith: "Enrico Montoya is Alejandro Delgado. JJ moves
things for him on a small time basis. What would be the best way to link Rachel
to Montoya?"
Shiva: She
gives Ita a look of sympathy and...guilt? And she shrugs. "Regardless of which,
I think Ingram's a big piece of the puzzle. She's got to know SOMETHING."
Ita McNairee: Oo was et tha sent er hoome
afore tha blast? tha bitch were sent hoome.. but by oo? *snarls and starts
pacing around in a tight circle, hands grimy little claws*
Shiva: She
looks to Adam, her expression one of pure surprise. "Delgado? The arms dealer?"
Adam Smith: "Delgado, the arms dealer, who supplied the
explosive for the blast. I suspect JJ moved it, possibly planting it at the site
or delivering it to Rachel for her to plant it."
Adam Smith: "Delgado is also a known Sabbat vampire."
Adam Smith: "I'm on my way to try to get more info out of
JJ. But if there's someone among the Cams who's covering for Rachel, this
information could very well mean JJ disappears. For good. So that he doesn't
snitch on the others."
Ita McNairee: *stops, suddenly confused and
looks to fausto, then Shiva. She was rubbish with names. JJ?.. she goes out on a
limb* Sae... tha folks tha ded et... are the baddies....and nae cammies? Nae.. *furows
her brow further,, gypsy brain working overtime* oor tha sabbat ded et WI' tha
cammi's elp? or ether way around? *scratches the head*
Shiva: Her
vision clouds a little, and she nearly snarls. "God DAMMIT!" She spins around,
punching the loading door she's leaning against. "I was afraid this would happen
if we let too many people in..."
Ita McNairee: Cloak an dagger vamp
BULLSHITE! *spits the words like venom, scowling deeply, then jumps back nearly
stumbling into fausto as she starts at Shiva* Love?!!? wha?
Adam Smith: He just stands there, watching Shiva closely
for any sign she's going to turn on him.
Adam Smith: Stepping quickly away from Ita, keeping at
least 3 feet from her at all times.
Adam Smith: His stepping away is actually the first time
he's shown any indication that Ita is actually present here.
Ita McNairee: *gives Fausto an apologetic
look, but seeing he's still ignoring her entirely she frowns sadly and quickly
looks back to Shiva, trying not to get angry at him, and biting at her lip in
frustration*
Shiva: She
looks at Ita. "Fuckin' Sabbat. They love to inflitrate the Anarchs...it's why we
keep such a close eye on people. The Anarch ranks surged when Ravyn and I moved
in...we did what we could to keep people on the up-and-up, but..." She shakes
her head, the rage under control again. Her eyes move to Fausto. "So, you've got
the JJ angle covered, then?"
Ita McNairee: *looks to fausto, face
looking a little worried, but not saying anything about his suggestion, just
chomping her lip angrily*
Shiva: She
shrugs. "As long as it doesn't put your treaty in jeopardy, hell yeah." Her
expression is just a little sadistic, almost comical in her outfit. "We were
never properly introduced, after all."
Adam Smith: "Well, the other option is, you people ambush
him after I leave him."
Adam Smith: "Frankly, I'm getting a little tired of
doing so much work for you people, for so little return."
Adam Smith: "It would be nice if, for once, somebody
cleaned up their own mess instead of leaving it for me."
Shiva: She
nods. "i'm down with that...and I'm sure I can get a few friends to help."
Shiva: She
smirks a little. "You've never asked for anything, Fausto, and I don't know what
to get for the man who wants to kill me and has everything. What do you want?"
Adam Smith: He nods. "He frequents a gay bar." He gives
Shiva the address. "I'm hoping to meet him there tonight. He may or may not
show."
Ita McNairee: *nods, the treaty couldn't be
all fucked now.. she wouldn't let it!* Tha might be best loves... causen e
dinnae wan tae gi' their knickers en a twist aboot yer kind... an *her tone gets
defensive* Ah'm TRYEN tae fex thes fooken treaty fer ye.. Ets jes that Asian
donutbumper 'as fooken vanished like a Pikey's panties en prom night.
Adam Smith: He shrugs at Shiva, smirking a little, the
first real flicker of emotion he's had all night. "I'll think of something..."
Ita McNairee: *is suppressing a snarl, hands
clenched at her sides.. she's put up with alot of SHIT from this man.. told him
anything he asked even though its breaking the city's precious masquerade.. even
though he choked silkie, smashed Karlos, chained choked kicked and abused
her.... she shuts her eyes against the anger.. he was being.. a prick, jut calm
down*
Adam Smith: "We done here?"
Shiva: She
nods. "Yeah, I think we're done."
Ita McNairee: Aye... *nods at Shiva, then hisses out in
thick gaelic, eyes still closed* can I speak to you a moment in private, please?
Adam Smith: He nods, and starts moving off, hand still in
his pocket, watchcap pulled down over his ears.
Ita McNairee: *looks to Fausto with gentle
brown eyes, face full of anger indigance and weary pain*
Shiva: She
looks to Ita. "Sure thing."
Adam Smith: ((Does Shiva speak gaelic?))
Ita McNairee: (the "in private thing" was in
gaelic, and directed to the mobster. *grins*)
Shiva: ((Ack,
missaw.))
Shiva: She turns and starts walking away, giving Ita a supportive smile as she does.