Garen's Fate (IC thread)

[Steward]

"It was honor enough to assist such illustrious ones as these. It was... ah... exciting. I suppose." Elias remarks as their employer offers one wish. He is especially reminded of the musician with the mesmeric song, the artisan who actually seemed to care for the lives of the innocent, the grizzled watchmen who gallantly risked their lives to protect the innocent, the sorceress who turned Dunstan's room into a funeral pyre, and even the woman who made sure that Dunstan was dead by slitting his throat -- about half a dozen times, though Elias really lost count. "But -- I confess -- I don't understand why you couldn't have done this yourself. He was completely unguarded, wasn't he?"

He pauses. "Ah... that question wasn't my wish. Just an minor point of inquiry, feel free to ignore it!"

[chrisrawr]

"There was one curious case - A search for knowledge is an honorable search in any case, and there was a man whose presence and manner confounded mine - The others could probably describe him in more detail, but it seems he was worried about a fate our late mark had inflicted upon his brothers befalling himself. Is there a list of victims I might access? Business presents itself, even if it's simply putting to rest the minds of traumatized families."

[The_Admiral]

Whacking Sam on the head, Nick say's Don't smoke too much old man. Its bad for your health and before he can retort, Nick continue's with As Doctor Collins once told us "It is hardly good to inhale soot into your lungs" then he turn's to Durin and say's I'll keep that wish for later if you dont mind.

[Sir_Chivalry]

"It was honor enough to assist such illustrious ones as these. It was... ah... exciting. I suppose." Elias remarks as their employer offers one wish. He is especially reminded of the musician with the mesmeric song, the artisan who actually seemed to care for the lives of the innocent, the grizzled watchmen who gallantly risked their lives to protect the innocent, the sorceress who turned Dunstan's room into a funeral pyre, and even the woman who made sure that Dunstan was dead by slitting his throat -- about half a dozen times, though Elias really lost count. "But -- I confess -- I don't understand why you couldn't have done this yourself. He was completely unguarded, wasn't he?"

He pauses. "Ah... that question wasn't my wish. Just an minor point of inquiry, feel free to ignore it!"

"He was completely unguarded? Fancy that."

"There was one curious case - A search for knowledge is an honorable search in any case, and there was a man whose presence and manner confounded mine - The others could probably describe him in more detail, but it seems he was worried about a fate our late mark had inflicted upon his brothers befalling himself. Is there a list of victims I might access? Business presents itself, even if it's simply putting to rest the minds of traumatized families."

"To be clear, you'd like access to some records in order to track down a man who has confounded you? If you can be more specific, I'll have what you need for you as soon as possible."

Whacking Sam on the head, Nick say's Don't smoke too much old man. Its bad for your health and before he can retort, Nick continue's with As Doctor Collins once told us "It is hardly good to inhale soot into your lungs" then he turn's to Durin and say's I'll keep that wish for later if you dont mind.

"I don't."

[wuwuwu]

Whacking Sam on the head, Nick say's Don't smoke too much old man. Its bad for your health and before he can retort, Nick continue's with As Doctor Collins once told us "It is hardly good to inhale soot into your lungs" then he turn's to Durin and say's I'll keep that wish for later if you dont mind.

"Ow, kid. I think I've lived long enough that if it hasn't killed me yet, it won't."

He takes another drag before continuing on.

"See, smoking is a lot like living with a dragon. At first it's a little touch and go, he doesn't like you, you don't like him. He thinks you're always stealing his hoard, you're just trying to sleep. If you try to kick him out he just comes back a few days later, saying 'well, I'm a big dragon, I can do what I want' but eventually it all works out. You get in the groove of things and just live together peacefully. Just you and the smo- I mean dragon."

"Also, don't hit me."

[Feather Sigil]

Veyna smiled at the half-elf--Irenius--and almost at Durren. "My esteemed thanks, both of you. I'll believe take you up on your offers, as long as she agrees with both." Perhaps it was the triumphant feeling of having vanquished Dunstan--that simple long-sought feeling of accomplishment--and so easily, along with their open generosity, or perhaps it was how straightforward the dwarf had been since they accomplished their task, but she felt her mistrust of him ease. There were simply more reasons to trust him than to mistrust, even though she still didn't know him all that well. What little she knew of the dwarven house he spoke of could not convince her otherwise.

From what Irenius said, it seemed he was a craftsman and purveyor of enchanted items. She would have to speak with him on such matters at some point. Durren as well, for thinking on the subject made her curious about his need for Dunstan's spear beyond merely seeing it. That they could show it to him was surely proof enough that he was dead, the burning wreckage of the Pony notwithstanding. Not that she was in great need of a spear, or any melee weapon, but it too might have great magical power, power that could prove useful.

"Yes, all who might have protected him were lounging elsewhere. When we struck, they had the good sense to fly from me. The rest, you already know of." She turned to face Eve. "Eve, it may seem like an easy choice if you have nowhere else, but I want to be sure you're truly comfortable with working for Irenius and possibly living with the House of Ceorn. We can't make the choice for you, after all."

She chuckled softly at Sam's analogy.

[The_Admiral]

Only if you act like an idiot the response came. Turning to Durrin Nick asks Point of inquiry what do you need the spear for? Your paymasters?

[Sir_Chivalry]

Only if you act like an idiot the response came. Turning to Durrin Nick asks Point of inquiry what do you need the spear for? Your paymasters?

"Personal souvenir, really. I needed to know you had done the deed."

[The_Admiral]

Hmm, fair enough just curious. So I guess we're done here for now turning back, Nick walk's out of the building and makes it straight for home.

[Sir_Chivalry]

Veyna smiled at the half-elf--Irenius--and almost at Durren. "My esteemed thanks, both of you. I'll believe take you up on your offers, as long as she agrees with both." Perhaps it was the triumphant feeling of having vanquished Dunstan--that simple long-sought feeling of accomplishment--and so easily, along with their open generosity, or perhaps it was how straightforward the dwarf had been since they accomplished their task, but she felt her mistrust of him ease. There were simply more reasons to trust him than to mistrust, even though she still didn't know him all that well. What little she knew of the dwarven house he spoke of could not convince her otherwise.

From what Irenius said, it seemed he was a craftsman and purveyor of enchanted items. She would have to speak with him on such matters at some point. Durren as well, for thinking on the subject made her curious about his need for Dunstan's spear beyond merely seeing it. That they could show it to him was surely proof enough that he was dead, the burning wreckage of the Pony notwithstanding. Not that she was in great need of a spear, or any melee weapon, but it too might have great magical power, power that could prove useful.

"Yes, all who might have protected him were lounging elsewhere. When we struck, they had the good sense to fly from me. The rest, you already know of." She turned to face Eve. "Eve, it may seem like an easy choice if you have nowhere else, but I want to be sure you're truly comfortable with working for Irenius and possibly living with the House of Ceorn. We can't make the choice for you, after all."

She chuckled softly at Sam's analogy.

"I think I'll take Devlan up on his offer."

[Silver Night]

So, is out business concluded?

[Sir_Chivalry]

So, is out business concluded?

"I'd say so."

[Silver Night]

Good. Anyone up for a drink? At a different bar?

[chrisrawr]

"I'd need one of the others to describe him in detail, access to any records available of Dunstan's victims, any recent disappearances, perhaps a copy of census information and a map of the city, to see if there were any underlying patterns, and any rumors that happen to abound about mysterious acrobatic brothers." John takes a deep breath, "It would just save me so much time."

[Sir_Chivalry]

"I'd need one of the others to describe him in detail, access to any records available of Dunstan's victims, any recent disappearances, perhaps a copy of census information and a map of the city, to see if there were any underlying patterns, and any rumors that happen to abound about mysterious acrobatic brothers." John takes a deep breath, "It would just save me so much time."

"You shall have it all. Now I suggest you go get some sleep. I may call upon you in days to come."

[Feather Sigil]

"Oh, is that his name? Well, Devlan, there you have it. If she lacks artistic talent and Durin cannot help her, we'll split the cost for purchasing a suitable home close to your shop. That sounds reasonable. Durin, if that brings our current affairs to a close for now, I bid you adieu, but before we part: your mute assistant--for what reason is she so?"

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OOC: So, as I understand it...

Eve will work with Devlan and live in a home near to his shop. If she has artistic talent, Durin will pay all of her living expenses in exchange for some indulgence of her abilities. If not, either Bayar or I will roll for whatever home Eve is to live in and we'll divide the resulting cost in half. Is all that correct?

[Sir_Chivalry]

"Oh, is that his name? Well, Devlan, there you have it. If she lacks artistic talent and Durin cannot help her, we'll split the cost for purchasing a suitable home close to your shop. That sounds reasonable. Durin, if that brings our current affairs to a close for now, I bid you adieu, but before we part: your mute assistant--for what reason is she so?"

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OOC: So, as I understand it...

Eve will work with Devlan and live in a home near to his shop. If she has artistic talent, Durin will pay all of her living expenses in exchange for some indulgence of her abilities. If not, either Bayar or I will roll for whatever home Eve is to live in and we'll divide the resulting cost in half. Is all that correct?

"She is mute. Her vocal chords were destroyed at a young age."

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That is correct.

[wuwuwu]

Sam, visibly bored at the negotiation's occuring, nods at John.

"Well, if you find the guy, tell him I'm sorry for bonkin' him."

He turns to Feather.

"Love to join you for that drink, ma'am, but my old bones are beat. Flamin' buildings and all. No, I think I'll be heading back to my humble abode for the night, and restin' up. Feel free to contact me, Durrin."

Looking over at Ursula, he stumbles over his words a little bit.

"Sorry about the er... um... mute."

And with that, Sam steps out, heading for home with heavy footsteps and a half-hearted, out of key whistle.

[Sir_Chivalry]

Assuming everyone is ready to move on

The next morning, at five minutes to nine, a young man walks down the street, admiring his new pocket watch. He nods to several giggling young women and hustles along, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. As he arrives at the door to a walk-up office, reaching for the door handle, a loud click is heard, and his upper body explodes in a bloody spray

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Cue Law and Order music

[chrisrawr]

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DUN-DUN du du du du duuuu
Sorry for the delay. It turns out I've got bronchitis, and I'm still carrying the contagious virus that gave it to me. Luckily, I'm on happy meds that make me not feel like poop, so I should be able to resume posting now.

Gather information check, as I will be finding out about this promptly, as well, I'll be checking up at the hospital during my rounds to inquire about the man brought in the night before.

John will have stayed at any old inn, tavern, hospice. He'll have had a meal, and another in the morning. What's the rate, bub?

G.I.(1d20+13)[28]
hours (1d4+1)[3]
And I guess bluff if I need it for the inquiry? (1d20+8)[10]

John wakes up feeling about as refreshed as a man can, after a night on a rock. At least there weren't any cockroaches - as far as he could tell. He rolls out of bed and into his boots, pulls on his coat, scrubs his face at the wash basin, and relieves himself - though not necessarily in that order, and he might have missed the part about scrubbing his face.

Anyway

He begins an already familiar beat of the city - along the docks, through alleys, over rooftop flats... He hits up the hospital after a couple rounds at some pubs - it never hurts to have a little fun, especially when money isn't as tight as it used to be. That, and social gatherings were the best places to pick up work...

At the hospital he stops by to inquire the arrival of victims from particularly violent crimes the previous night; one of his friends hadn't been home, though there was blood, and his residence looked sacked.

[wuwuwu]

Sam wakes up, face down on the floor in a pool of his own drool, with a groan. He reaches for his bed frame and gives a half-hearted attempt to pull himself up with one arm.

Unsuccessful, he drops back down to the floor, and goes back to sleep, snoring loudly.

A few hours later, he drags himself across the floor and drags his body heavily onto his personal chest. He rubs his face for a moment as he sits there, looking across his bare room.

Hearing activity in the streets outside, he shouts, "Damn you morning people! Preventing us respectable old folks from getting our good day's sleep!", to nobody in particular.

Standing up, he clumps heavily across the room, picking up some clothes from the floor and giving them a cautious sniff before putting them on. He wipes his face with a towel, tests the stubble on his chin and, deciding he can hold off on a shave for another da- week. Maybe two - steps out the door.

Absorbing the ambience of the city with his eyes closed, taking a deep whiff of the wonderful city-smells, and absorbing the energy of it's bustling people, he feels invigorated.

"Who needs coffee, when you got a city?", he sighs happily.

He walks a few blocks down the street, to his favorite little [restaurant/tavern/diner/inn, as appropriate?], and orders the cheapest they got, or in other words, the usual. As he chews his meal with a grimace, he grunts.

"I wonder what crap is gonna happen to me today."

Lighting his 8th smoke of the day, Sam was truly at bliss.

[The_Admiral]

Walking into the crime scene, Nick munches on an apple. Finishing his breakfast, he walks up to the crime scene and say's to one of the crime scene officers What happened to him?

[Steward]

When the inventive spirit gets into him, Elias can go for days without sleeping. After the battle with Dunstan, in which he played a quite respectable supporting role, the inventive spirit stayed a good distance away and Elias slept for hours that night, his mind blissfully clear of dreams, pleasant or otherwise.

He awakes a while past dawn, sitting up in his bed. For some reason, he thinks that something has gone terribly wrong. Did I pay rent this month? I must have -- or I would be out on the street by now! When he stares across the room at his desk, it all comes back to him. He sees a crucible hanging from the ceiling, dripping glittering globules of ectoplasm.

Oh no! I forgot to get rid of that! He realizes with a start. He had been working on a new type of astral construct, a being forged from ectoplasm. The experiment had failed the night before last and he had meant to get rid of the ectoplasm components before they settled. Now he had a huge mess on his hands, one that would take all day to clean up.

Elias quickly makes himself presentable -- at least as presentable as he usually does -- and takes another look at the mess. I think I can do this tonight. He decides. He is concerned about the man whose hospital visit he had paid earlier. He also needs to buy more equipment; his work doesn't come cheap and the reward money is burning a hole in his pocket.

[Feather Sigil]

The previous night...

Veyna held a fist to the base of her neck, closed her eyes and lowered her head towards Ursula. "I...I am sorry. My condolences, Ursula."

As everyone began to leave, she confirmed the arrangements with Devlan and Durin and then left with "Miss Mortal" to have a drink. Fortunately, she was able to learn the proper way to pronounce her employer's name and that the human's name was Feather.* Unfortunately, she only remembered afterwards that she forgot to ask Elias about his abilities. They reminded her of Ursula's in their way. Not flashy like magic often was, but no less potent, creating effects that only seemed to exist in the mind.

A couple of hours ago...

Veyna stared at the ceiling of her apartment, the words of her invoked gifts automatically slipping from her lips. Her eyes following the faint outlines of cracks long since patched over. A yellow haze slowly filled the room with the rising sun. The mattress only made her even more glad for her tough skin and flesh; it was so stiff she might as well have slept on the floor.

I am still alive.

For the first time someone in this city has seen my face--and not just a single someone, but several. It was inevitable, of course. If any of them knew who I truly am, they could be dangerous. They all seem to be good people--even Durin and Ursula--but what do I really know of any of them after a single night?

She slid her hand beneath her poncho and withdrew her pendant. The star and nebula shone in the midst of the darkness.

We did the right thing, did we not? We never found evidence of any of the crimes Durin accused him of, except perhaps the purse. That murder--any murder--is enough for him to deserve his fate, to say nothing of whatever he might have done to Eve. I should give the purse back to her family and let them know that the man responsible--if he was responsible--is naught but ashes now. Not the money, though; I need it far more than they. Speaking of spoils of war...

Veyna slithered out of bed and removed the amethyst pendant from her backpack. After staring at it for a moment, she slipped its chain over her head.

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OOC: Assuming putting on the pendant won't possess or kill or otherwise do something horrible to her, if it does anything at all, I'm going to post again later tonight. I would have posted the rest of her morning but I'm quite busy. -_- Still, hopefully I'll be able to see the results of this and my Diplomacy roll in the OOC thread before completing the rest.

*I'll redact this if Silver_Night isn't okay with it. It seems like a sensible occurrence to me. Judging by the SRD's charts I'm going to say Veyna spent 2sp drinking with Feather.

[Silver Night]

Feather woke up with a throbbing headache. She felt more human after she used the facilities and got some food in her, but hardly up to going outside just yet.

[Sir_Chivalry]

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DUN-DUN du du du du duuuu
Sorry for the delay. It turns out I've got bronchitis, and I'm still carrying the contagious virus that gave it to me. Luckily, I'm on happy meds that make me not feel like poop, so I should be able to resume posting now.

Gather information check, as I will be finding out about this promptly, as well, I'll be checking up at the hospital during my rounds to inquire about the man brought in the night before.

John will have stayed at any old inn, tavern, hospice. He'll have had a meal, and another in the morning. What's the rate, bub?

G.I.[roll0]
hours [roll1]
And I guess bluff if I need it for the inquiry? [roll2]

John wakes up feeling about as refreshed as a man can, after a night on a rock. At least there weren't any cockroaches - as far as he could tell. He rolls out of bed and into his boots, pulls on his coat, scrubs his face at the wash basin, and relieves himself - though not necessarily in that order, and he might have missed the part about scrubbing his face.

Anyway

He begins an already familiar beat of the city - along the docks, through alleys, over rooftop flats... He hits up the hospital after a couple rounds at some pubs - it never hurts to have a little fun, especially when money isn't as tight as it used to be. That, and social gatherings were the best places to pick up work...

At the hospital he stops by to inquire the arrival of victims from particularly violent crimes the previous night; one of his friends hadn't been home, though there was blood, and his residence looked sacked.

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Hostel stay and two poor meals is 4sp.

You hear about the young man with the watch dying. Apparently the autopsy will come later.

"That young man from last night checked himself out."

Sam wakes up, face down on the floor in a pool of his own drool, with a groan. He reaches for his bed frame and gives a half-hearted attempt to pull himself up with one arm.

Unsuccessful, he drops back down to the floor, and goes back to sleep, snoring loudly.

A few hours later, he drags himself across the floor and drags his body heavily onto his personal chest. He rubs his face for a moment as he sits there, looking across his bare room.

Hearing activity in the streets outside, he shouts, "Damn you morning people! Preventing us respectable old folks from getting our good day's sleep!", to nobody in particular.

Standing up, he clumps heavily across the room, picking up some clothes from the floor and giving them a cautious sniff before putting them on. He wipes his face with a towel, tests the stubble on his chin and, deciding he can hold off on a shave for another da- week. Maybe two - steps out the door.

Absorbing the ambience of the city with his eyes closed, taking a deep whiff of the wonderful city-smells, and absorbing the energy of it's bustling people, he feels invigorated.

"Who needs coffee, when you got a city?", he sighs happily.

He walks a few blocks down the street, to his favorite little [restaurant/tavern/diner/inn, as appropriate?], and orders the cheapest they got, or in other words, the usual. As he chews his meal with a grimace, he grunts.

"I wonder what crap is gonna happen to me today."

Lighting his 8th smoke of the day, Sam was truly at bliss.

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1sp for the meal.

A barmaid is wiping down a nearby table, talking to the barman

"Did you hear about what happened up in Jenroy Street this morning Stanley? They say it was one of McArthur's!"

Walking into the crime scene, Nick munches on an apple. Finishing his breakfast, he walks up to the crime scene and say's to one of the crime scene officers What happened to him?

"I don't bloody know do I Nick? His heart exploded, witnesses say he 'clicked' and he was wearing a McArthur."

When the inventive spirit gets into him, Elias can go for days without sleeping. After the battle with Dunstan, in which he played a quite respectable supporting role, the inventive spirit stayed a good distance away and Elias slept for hours that night, his mind blissfully clear of dreams, pleasant or otherwise.

He awakes a while past dawn, sitting up in his bed. For some reason, he thinks that something has gone terribly wrong. Did I pay rent this month? I must have -- or I would be out on the street by now! When he stares across the room at his desk, it all comes back to him. He sees a crucible hanging from the ceiling, dripping glittering globules of ectoplasm.

Oh no! I forgot to get rid of that! He realizes with a start. He had been working on a new type of astral construct, a being forged from ectoplasm. The experiment had failed the night before last and he had meant to get rid of the ectoplasm components before they settled. Now he had a huge mess on his hands, one that would take all day to clean up.

Elias quickly makes himself presentable -- at least as presentable as he usually does -- and takes another look at the mess. I think I can do this tonight. He decides. He is concerned about the man whose hospital visit he had paid earlier. He also needs to buy more equipment; his work doesn't come cheap and the reward money is burning a hole in his pocket.

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Hospital or shopping first?

The previous night...

Veyna held a fist to the base of her neck, closed her eyes and lowered her head towards Ursula. "I...I am sorry. My condolences, Ursula."

As everyone began to leave, she confirmed the arrangements with Devlan and Durin and then left with "Miss Mortal" to have a drink. Fortunately, she was able to learn the proper way to pronounce her employer's name and that the human's name was Feather.* Unfortunately, she only remembered afterwards that she forgot to ask Elias about his abilities. They reminded her of Ursula's in their way. Not flashy like magic often was, but no less potent, creating effects that only seemed to exist in the mind.

A couple of hours ago...

Veyna stared at the ceiling of her apartment, the words of her invoked gifts automatically slipping from her lips. Her eyes following the faint outlines of cracks long since patched over. A yellow haze slowly filled the room with the rising sun. The mattress only made her even more glad for her tough skin and flesh; it was so stiff she might as well have slept on the floor.

I am still alive.

For the first time someone in this city has seen my face--and not just a single someone, but several. It was inevitable, of course. If any of them knew who I truly am, they could be dangerous. They all seem to be good people--even Durin and Ursula--but what do I really know of any of them after a single night?

She slid her hand beneath her poncho and withdrew her pendant. The star and nebula shone in the midst of the darkness.

We did the right thing, did we not? We never found evidence of any of the crimes Durin accused him of, except perhaps the purse. That murder--any murder--is enough for him to deserve his fate, to say nothing of whatever he might have done to Eve. I should give the purse back to her family and let them know that the man responsible--if he was responsible--is naught but ashes now. Not the money, though; I need it far more than they. Speaking of spoils of war...

Veyna slithered out of bed and removed the amethyst pendant from her backpack. After staring at it for a moment, she slipped its chain over her head.

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OOC: Assuming putting on the pendant won't possess or kill or otherwise do something horrible to her, if it does anything at all, I'm going to post again later tonight. I would have posted the rest of her morning but I'm quite busy. -_- Still, hopefully I'll be able to see the results of this and my Diplomacy roll in the OOC thread before completing the rest.

*I'll redact this if Silver_Night isn't okay with it. It seems like a sensible occurrence to me. Judging by the SRD's charts I'm going to say Veyna spent 2sp drinking with Feather.

Feather woke up with a throbbing headache. She felt more human after she used the facilities and got some food in her, but hardly up to going outside just yet.

Last Night

Veyna and Feather were approached by a pair of handsome men (one blond and one brunette). They chatted for several hours, and paid for most of your drinks. They asked if they might meet you at the same place in two days, after they return from an excursion they were being sent on.

Today

The amythest pendant glitters slightly in the light. Inside the gem, with some inspection, there is an Ouroboros suspending inside the gem, carved on the inside, but no seams on the pendant.

[wuwuwu]

A barmaid is wiping down a nearby table, talking to the barman

"Did you hear about what happened up in Jenroy Street this morning Stanley? They say it was one of McArthur's!"

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Already handled it

"Wuzzat what happened with what, now?"

Another smoke. Now what was a McArthur again? And how close was Jenroy Street?

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Knowledge(local) (1d20+9)[16] to see what I know about McArthur, and Jenroy Steet.
Hmm, Sam was going to buy a pocket watch today.

[Sir_Chivalry]

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Already handled it

"Wuzzat what happened with what, now?"

Another smoke. Now what was a McArthur again? And how close was Jenroy Street?

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Knowledge(local) [roll0] to see what I know about McArthur, and Jenroy Steet.
Hmm, Sam was going to buy a pocket watch today.

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Isaiah McArthur is a gnome watchmaker over in Sotor Lane, makes the finest pocket watches in the city. Jenroy Street is an area that has many offices and fine services, like barristers and high-end private investigators. It's two tiers up and three blocks over.

"Honestly! A man died on Jenroy Street, your ears need cleaning?"

[wuwuwu]

Sam stands up and begins walking towards the door. Speaking with an innocent and hurt tone, he reproaches her, "My ears are tender-ripe with blessed age, and your harsh voice attacked them with all it's might! It's no wonder they didn't die of fright with your rude accusations of poor hygiene!"

When he finishes, he blows a raspberry and runs out the door, shouting, "I'll be back tomorrow, Lindsey!"

Making his way through the city streets, taking secret shortcuts down dark alleyways and greeting various denizens as he heads up the tiers, Sam thinks about his itinerary.

First, I'll scope the crime scene. Second, I'll buy a watch. Third, what the hell does a McArthur have to do to with murder. We'll know soon enough!

Arriving at the crime scene, he sees Nick's familiar face, and grins.

"This'll do just fine, this will do just fine at all!"

Realizing what he just said, he looks around sheepishly. Nope, nobody heard it.

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When Nick is done talking to the other officers, Sam will flag him down.

[Steward]

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Ahh, hospital. Sorry for the vagueness.

One quirk of Elias's mind that he found directions effortless to recall once he'd followed them once. He had been to this hospital just once before, when the policeman Nick brought in that injured man.

Normally, he would be glad to never return to this place. He had done his good deed, paying -- and probably dearly -- to ensure that a stranger got the care he needed. But something about the whole scenario bothers him still. As he returns to the cool, septic interior of the hospital, he only seeks to get a few questions answered, and resolve a few niggling doubts.