Dealings

Aim entered the pub at around 2:43 pm. She was a little early but she knew her contact would be earlier. He was just like that sometimes; she assumed. She spotted the light reddish-orange hair sitting in a area of the afore-mentioned pub, drinking nothing but a glass of water with a line in it. Aim took only had to take one look at the glass, as she was already aware that it meant he was ready to get down to business. He looked up and spotted her; she tipped her white fedora with the black ribbon at him and made her way over casually. She took a seat across from him and automatically yanked a cigarette out of her pocket. She gestured it towards him, and he offered her a light.

For a crummy hole in the wall, the pub was surprisingly crowded. Especially for it being only quarter until four. What was the American expression? It's five o'clock somewhere? The clientele of the pub were certainly familiar with the phrase. Pulling herself onto a rusted barstool, Serach decided she could not pass judgement for such small, petty things. She was guilty of her own sins, as were all men. Also, she too ordered a cold beer.

She took the first sip, part of her felt she had earned the drink. A slaver now lie dead in his bathtub, a knife between his eyes. There was, of course, nothing that could trace the knife to her, but an investigation would be launched and, if the local police did their jobs, the slave ring operating in the area would be discovered and dismantled. The Ḥashshāshīn certainly thought that merited a drink or two.

So, she took another sip from the cool bottle, drinking in her surroundings as well, silently watching the people carry on about her.

"I got the files you wanted, Aim... It's not much, but it's all they had in the Scottish archives," the male commented in a low voice, sliding some paperwork across the table. He had a hint of a Scottish accent, but it wasn't extremely prominent as it was been mostly concealed by an American one. "I asked my buddies in other areas to check on what they could, but honestly you really need to go straight to the source to get what you need. Berlin might have something..." the male continued. Aim silently reached out for the paperwork. He leaned in a bit, lowering his voice a bit more. "Why in God's name do you need this much information on the Holocaust and the Nazis though...?!"

Aim looked up at the male, meeting his questioning gaze with a cold, serious one. The male flinched back, expecting to be told it was none of his buisness.

"It's for Tauri." Aim responded.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You know her Cal, that girl you met in the coffee shop. Tauri. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Real sweet face."

"Aim, it's been a long time since she was 'that girl I met in the coffee shop'."

"That one you always stare at like a damn fool."

"You just love to point that out, huh." The male sighed with a sheepish smirk. "Kinda out of character for you... but nevertheless." His serious expression suddenly returned. "I was really asking what any of this at all has to do with her."

"It is kinda weird... She practically personifies the term 'Aryan'. At least her looks do." Aim responded, putting out her cigarette's remaining stub. "Seems not to be the case though. Apperantly some family members of hers were put into concentration camps, if we're to believe the tip she got."

"...From the psychotic animal?"

"Pretty much. Can't really discount what he says now; he's certainly proved he's got some sinister shit planned." Aim answered darkly. The male looked down at the table, his expression grim. "...Let's take a break for now, Cal. We haven't even confirmed any of this yet. Heck, the first step is right here in my hand. Drinks are on me this time."

"...You know I really don't like the nickname 'Cal'." the male finally responded after a moment of dismay and silence.

"You didn't seem to mind when she used it..." Aim snickered.

The male looked a bit red in the cheeks. "Again? I seriously never knew you to tease people about their interests, romantic or otherwise," he commented, a little louder than he had intended. He laughed. "Did you go and grow a personality behind my back? Or, did you get one of the other mages to create one for you...?"