*The handsome woman stands at a pay phone, peering down the street as she speaks.* ...I can see them from here! Yeah, yeah, I'll talk to you later. And don't give her any more candy! *She slams the receiver down, then saunters out of the booth, appearing quite casual...*

-=Leaning casually as he can against a lamp-post near their booth, Fraser glances around once more. There'd been word of increased Bertie activity revolving around the pair, and sharp blue eyes were on the lookout for it now.*

*Ruth looks both ways, then jaywalks across the street, heedless of the traffic. She seems unarmed, hands in the pockets of her blue jeans... She'd been watching for the opportunity to pay a visit to her second child, and this festival of- who was that Saint? Millennia, or someone -was perfect...*

-=There now, was Neetlemyre's mother, if such a term could be used for the woman, heading straight for them. Biting his lower lip, Fraser ambles closer, nothing more than a passing shopper in a leather jacket and jeans.=-

*Melenna, Patron Saint of the Unob- Leather jacket and jeans... The woman slows, distracted from her previous idea of rabble-rousing by Fraser's movements. Hmm. Her steps slow and she pretends to become engrossed in a display of filleting knives.*

-=He pauses at the booth next to her, pretending to be engrossed in the selection of stolen watches and second-rate soundcards. The soundcards, it might be noted, reflect the image of Ruth very well indeed.=-

*Ruth gently hefts a cleaver, flicking the thumb of her free hand carefully along the edge.* Quite keen.

#The man behind the table beams.# "Yes ma'am! All of our knives are guaranteed to stay sharp for a year."

Ah... *Actually, the mirror-like finish was what had attracted her eye... Fraser and the soundcards are wavily reflected, out of focus.* Thanks. *She puts the knife down and drifts away from the man in the leather jacket, back the way she came.*

-=Oh no...he wasn't going to let her torment them. They'd settled into one another so much lately, become so content that it seemed they might have forgotten about the troubles of the past. And as bad an idea as it was, Fraser had begun running blocker for them, keeping things away that would mar it. A misdirected letter of threat, a set of pictures that were as disgusting as they were illegal...it hadn't seemed like such a task at the time.=-

*She doesn't go far, just to an awning-covered doorway, where she lounges and looks over the crowd. The guy in the jacket was pretty cute- she stole another glance at him -but she did have things to do, goals to accomplish... Now what? Maybe she could get him to help her... It shouldn't be too hard. He was probably a cocky bastard, with a face like that. Staying put for the moment, she continues to dart furtive glances at the Meddler whilst working up a scheme to kill two birds with one stone.*

-=Pausing again, Fraser watches the activity surrounding the booth four over to the left, the dickering of the trader and the smirking of his green-tressed partner. Another dart of blue eyes to check on Ruth, before staring intently at the knives.=-

*Curious, Ruth followed his gaze... Her son and his lover. _Very_ interesting. She misses his glance at herself as she's momentarily lost in her plots. Shaking off the trance, she decides to give him a couple more minutes, see if the look towards the unlikely-looking couple was a fluke, and then move in...*

-=Shifting from foot to foot, he glances back and forth once more, wondering what he can do that won't attract attention.=-

Antsy, aren't you? *The words are mumbled to herself as she moves out, into the street. Ruth's steps are slow, expression beginning to settle into 'grim and disgusted'.*

-=Having espied Ruth's movements, Fraser turns, casually sauntering in the opposite direction. Not surprisingly, he "accidentally" bumps into her.=- Oh dear! I'm sorry ma'am...

*The woman stops abruptly as someone bumps into her.* Hey! *She opens her mouth to continue her tirade, but Fraser's face stays the diatribe.* That's quite all right, no harm done. *A smile is formed, friendly, almost charming...*

-=Moving a step back, Fraser's cheeks light with soft colour, a rosy blush.=- Really ma'am...I'm terribly, terribly sorry. Perhaps...perhaps I might buy you a cup of coffee to make up for being so clumsy.

*A puzzled look* Really, I'm fine... *Blast, he wasn't a prick... Well, maybe she could still get some fun out of him yet.* Coffee? No, thank you, but I never touch the stuff. I was on my way to start a boycott, perhaps you could give me a hand with that, instead? ((Ack! *Feels Fraser's forehead* You okay, mister?))

A boycott ma'am? Whatever for? And of who? -=Puzzled indeed, blue eyes curious and soft as he stands there between she and the pair.=- ((*laugh* I have NO idea what he's doing...and what's more, I don't think HE does either!))

It's kind of a long story... *Figuring that he didn't know her son from Adam, she cobbles together a few lies to feed to the impressionable-looking lad* I have a son, that I sent away to school... He met this -pervert- while on a school outing and now he's dropped out to travel all over! *Her pained, grieving expression looks quite authentic.* I've tried the police, but they say I have to have proof that they're...they're _sleeping_ together to press charges against him... He's only sixteen... ((Oh my... If he's not careful, he's going to find out just what those predatory smiles mean... *Blinks at the nympho*))

That's terrible ma'am...really, is there anything I could do to help? -=Frantically struggling for the right words, Fraser fumbles them out clumsily.=- ((Ack! She can't corrupt my poor virginal character!))

*She seems to be struggling to control herself, giving a sniffle or two before taking a deep breath. A another glance towards the booth where the two men are conferring, heads together.* Well, I don't know... You see, they're right over there- *A brief wave in their direction, hoping the pair won't notice her* -the man in the yellow hat is the one that seduced my baby! I was going to start a boycott, call attention to his vile ways... ((I'll try to keep her from doing so...))

Oh. Oh dear. I...Oh dear. That's awful. -=Tripping over his tongue again, Fraser wonders what to do now, though nothing but stoic innocence is displayed in his features. Deciding, after a faint wince, he gestures towards a darker bit of alleyway.=- Why don't we stand over there and talk for a bit? ((*giggle* Oh DEAR...))

All right... *She nods her acquiescence, wondering if he is indeed buying her story. Seduced, at age sixteen, by a trader while on a boarding-school field trip, she'd have to remember that...* It's taken me months to find him, and I haven't gotten close enough to see if he's all right.... *As her companion turns away, a rather lascivious smile slips across her face... Suspicions were confirmed. He had a very nice ass.*

-=Unaware of Ruth's appraisal of his nether regions, Fraser leads her towards the alleyway, his mind torn with indecision. He wasn't supposed to interfere at all...oh dear...=- Perhaps I can help you ma'am. -=He steps a bit closer to her, blushing in the dim light.=- I know a few people.

*Oh, yes indeed, those jeans were spiffily filled- She pushes her plot to get him out of aforementioned jeans to the back of her mind, the sound of his voice startling her faintly.* Oh...? Oh, that would be wonderful! *Her lashes lower as he comes nearer, but she doesn't look anything but curious.* You do? Friends?

Er...ma'am...I'm terribly sorry...this...oh dear. -=Mumbled, as he steps yet closer and wraps his arms around her, reaching for the "home" button on his 'fader. Thomas would kill him...or fire him...=-

*Unaware of the young man's thoughts, she just grins as his arms slip about her. Never the shy one, she returns the embrace, working a hand into a back pocket and giving a bit of a squeeze...* This is something to apologize for? *She quiets as she realizes that he's taking them somewhere, but she'll wait 'til they arrive to complain.*

-=A strangled "eep!" escapes poor Fraser's lips before they 'fade, never having been squeezed to see if he was ripe before. Soon as they arrive in a decently appointed room, he releases her and does his very best to disentangle himself from her.=- Madam, there is little need to continue your torment of that boy.

*She grins as he squeaks, pondering the sound... Was that enjoyment, surprise, or a combination of both? The room catches her attention and Ruth allows the guy in the leather jacket to squirm free.* What boy? Who said I was tormenting anyone? *She sounds genuinely puzzled... Certainly he didn't know who she was... She looks the surroundings over again...*

-Do- come off it madam. -=Wondering quietly where this wellspring of confidence is coming from, he tucks his hands into his pocket, forcing his eyes to meet hers, even as he blushes unaccountably. What in the world was he going to do with her now?=-

Do come off what? *She leers at him, stepping forward to press up against him.* Interesting choice of words... *Shakes her head* Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about, unless you mean you want me to leave my son alone... All alone, in that... that... disgusting chickenhawk's filthy hands! *Her voice rises as she speaks, not quite cracking at the end.*

Indeed ma'am, I do want you to leave your son alone. He is above the age of consent, quite happy and less than needful of your involvement. -=A soft sigh -- Thomas really was going to murder him for this, and he'd -deserve- it -- before he begins pacing agitatedly.=- What business have you, meddling in his life, Ruth? He's had quite enough hurt, I should think, without you.

Oh, damn! You didn't buy a word of it... And you looked so gullible, too. *Grumbling to herself, she folds her arms and glowers at Fraser.* Yeah? Well... I'm his mother. I need him to do something for me... Hurt? I never touched him! What business is it of _yours_? Why're you looking out for him?

-=He colours up again at the mention of gullibility, but remains quite firm about the rest.=- He won't do it. It's simple enough, and now I've saved you a trip. -=He falters at the last bit, not really having an answer as he snags a woolen scarf from the back of his nearby chair.=- Madam, I do hope you'll forgive me for this. -=Taking quick steps, he approaches her again, scarf held in front of him as he darts towards her.=-

*She snickers at his recurring blush, then returns to glaring at the younger man.* How do _you_ know? Why are you being so protective? And if you say 'I love him', so help me, I'll knock your teeth down your throat. *She looks like she just might do that, at least until he grabs the scarf. Oddly, or mayhaps not-so-oddly, enough, she just stands there as he approaches.* Ooh, kinky, are you? That's interesting... Do you like your women weak and helpless? No, no! You fiend! *Campy to an extreme, not a note of true fear or concern found on her face or in her voice...*

I-I...I do -not- -love- him! -=Hot denial, nearly choking on the words as he reaches to wrap the scarf around her face. Something...right...he'd have to put something in her mouth too, to keep her from spitting out the gag. He's careful not to yank too hard on it, but all the same, the knot is rather secure, and his now-free hands come to rest firmly on her arms as he hunts around for something else...neckties. That would work. Trying to keep her still while he opens his drawer, he fishes out several and shoves them both towards the chair.=- I'm -not-...oh...dear...just be quiet please!

Well, thank the Gods for tha-mmph! *Her snide relief is cut short as the fabric proves how it got its other name by muffling her voice. She doesn't struggle, overmuch, wondering if this isn't just his idea of a little fun... She'd dearly love to taunt him about what he is or isn't, but settles for slumping in chair, mumbling against the makeshift gag.*

-=Grasping one hand quite harshly in his, he pins it to the leg of the chair and ties it tight, then moves to the other. Surveying his work, he sighs, then repeats his work on her ankles.=- Just...wait here! -=Looking faintly startled, shocked...maybe even a bit frightened by his own actions, Fraser slips out the door. Thomas...gods...=-

*She watches helplessly- not that she had a _choice_ -as Fraser darts out the door. She was beginning to get a little suspicious about the man's motives for tying (TIEing?) her up...*

*He sits at his desk, the contents of a manila envelope scattered before him. A couple of different stacks of paperwork are also present... Absentmindedly shuffling photographs and papers, he's only half-listening to Cole's recitation of odd news tidbits...*

-=Feeling his stomach churn, Fraser makes his way quickly towards Thomas' office, hoping the Guildmaster will still be there and unoccupied. A soft rapping at the door heralds his arrival.=-

*He sits up with a jerk, startled by the knocking, soft as it is. He barely skims the consciousness on the other side of the wood, waving a hand at Cole, who'd risen.* Come in.

#Cole sits back down, nodding to Thomas before going back to the paper.#

-=Shuffling in with blue eyes downcast, Fraser mumbles a polite greeting to Cole and Thomas, before taking a rather deep breath and launching into a painful speech.=- S-s-sir...I'm...I'm afraid I've dome something...r-r-rather...er...against p-policy.

#Cole just nods, then politely excuses himself from the room.#

*Thomas blinks, brows raising over his cat-pupiled eyes.* Oh? That's a surprising thing to hear from _you_. *The word is quietly emphasized, but there's no sting in it.* Please, elaborate on this, would you?

Oh...I didn't mean to interrupt...I...that is... Oh dear. -=Another quiet little sigh, and Fraser tugs at the collar of his shirt.=- I...sir...th-there's a w-w-woman you see...in m-my room... That is...no...-=Shuffling, he stops, staring intently at the floor.=-

*He shakes his head* You didn't interrupt a thing. Besides which, what good would I be if I set strict visiting hours? *He waves the question away, the faintest of frowns creasing his brow.* You have a woman in your room? So far that's your own business... Unless she happens to be a client, severely injured, or....? *He holds up his hands, palms out, spreading them slightly, inviting further explanation.*

I...sir, she's t-tied up, and I...well, you see, I kidnapped her, and... She's a Bertie, and...oh gods. -=Swaying, Fraser all but falls into a chair, cradling his head in his hands and his voice drops rather steadily.=- Sir, it seemed the best course of action at the time. In retrospect... This woman, she's the mother of the boy, Neetlemyre.

Tied- *He catches himself before he can make a wisecrack out of the remark, though he does ask Cole to help him remember to schedule a knot-tying refresher course...* You _kidnapped_ her? A Bertie, ah... *He stands, moving towards the young man as he seems about ready to faint...* She's Neetlemyre's mother? Oh. *As if that explains everything... In a way, it does.* Well... I'm at a bit of an impasse. I'd dearly love to say congratulations, but... *He shrugs.* That can wait. Tell me, how did you bring her here? Does she _know_ where she is? We're going to need someone to run checks on her name, provided we can get her _real_ one... Aliases, too... *The Guildmaster seems to fade out for a moment, his questions finished, for the time being.*

I...I'm afraid I did sir. -=Voice a mere squeak now, he winces.=- I 'faded into my room...and I don't think she has a clue as to where she is. I-I-I...sir? I intervened when she was going to cause the boy trouble. I...I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry.

Well, what's done is done. *He watches the agent for a minute, straining to catch his near-silent words.* All right. She's in your room... We'll need to move her some where a little more secure, and take her 'Fader... *He nods* She doesn't? That's _very_ good. *He thinks, sitting in the chair across from Fraser.* Why? I'm merely curious... Does it further your current assignment to keep her away from him? It's a very noble thing to do, no matter how you look at it....

I...oh dear. I see. -=He looks up, immensely sheepish.=- Sir, I'm afraid I've...broken a rule...The two I've been watching... -=He stops, closing his eyes as he begins again.=- I've become personally involved on several occasions. At one point, I intercepted a package from this woman, another, a threatening letter. Today...well, today I suppose I stopped her from making a fuss at their trading booth. -=He swallows, voice shaky, though his stutter seems to have receded once again.=- I wouldn't say noble sir. I would say foolhardy, and against the rules of conduct.

You said it. *He rubs a hand over his face, fixing Mr. Coventry with a slightly befuddled expression.* I'm going to wait until this situation is corrected before I even _try_ to think about what I'm going to do with you. *He glances back to his desk at the mention of a package.* But _why_? Does your employer require that they are to be unmolested? What do you know of this woman, besides the fact that she's Neetlemyre's mother and a Bertie? Neither are, sadly, a crime in and of themselves...

*Meanwhile, back in Fraser's room...* Mrmmph agphmnerph mrgnnmph.... *Ruth fidgets restlessly, testing her bonds... So far, she has yet to find a weakness to exploit.*

I...whatever you decide sir, of course. -=Mouth set grimly, Fraser squares his shoulders and nods once.=- My employer made no such request sir, it was entirely my own doing. I know that she could be charged with criminal neglect of her child, that she has written a threatening and incriminating letter to a citizen of the Empire, both of which are, indeed, considered crimes. I...perhaps it would be best if you removed me from my post after this sir, because it's come to the point where my conscience requires these things of me. I'm sorry. -=An expressive shrug, and then shoulders hunch once more as he stands.=- Do you have any particular instructions for me, regarding this woman?

I see. *A nod* Well... I'm not quite up-to-date on all of the laws of the Empire... Could she still be charged? He _has_ reached the age of majority... I think. *He frowns for a second, then smoothes his face back to its usual marble mask.* The threatening letter is better prosecution material. I don't know about you, but I'm getting rather sick of the recent Bertwillian activism, and it's beginning to color my judgments, which, as you well know, is not at all good. *He turns the dilemma over in his mind, then shakes his head once more.* You'll complete your current assignment as dictated by your employer. *The corners of his mouth rise, ever so slightly.* I can see that it does... I have no idea what to tell you, other than you might ask your employer if they want the boy to go on as he has been, that is, unbothered. It's a dangerous thing, getting too involved. *He stands as well, cogitating.* Other than relieve her of her 'Fader and find a room for her that locks from the outside, no... We can only keep her for a day, two at the most. If you truly feel that putting her away would be worth losing this assignment, and future assignments dealing with people, then start a serious search for some truly incriminating evidence.... Otherwise, prepare to put up with twinges from your conscience.

-=Fraser nods, mulling the words quite carefully before replying in tones so measured he might be trying to calm a storm with his voice.=- I'll certainly consider it sir. Especially asking my employer if they would like the boy unbothered. -=He looks down, unable to meet his superior's eyes.=- I-...I may not be suited to this at all, if this sort of behavior is my reaction to a very routine assignment. I'm sorry sir. -=He finally does lift his face, glancing towards the door as if he'd like nothing more than to slither under it.=-

Good. *He looks to the carpet, rubbing the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb.* I think we've had this conversation before, Fraser... This -isn't- a routine assignment for you. What -had- you been doing before this? If I recall, your previous surveillance jobs were all quite short? *He glances at his agent, then towards the door, out of curiosity...*

#A great scraping and clattering sounds in the hallway... Someone must be moving a piece of furniture. Muffled words and a few soft thuds mark their passage. The sounds stop outside the Guildmaster's door, and after a shuffling and a moment of silence, a smart tapping is heard.#

We have, sir. This only serves to reiterate my point. -=He pulls himself up short at the sounds in the hallway, a surprised and obviously curious look in his eye.=- They were, sir. Short, and much less intrusive. Er...sir? Eh...I believe...your door...that is... -=He gestures briefly.=-

*He just -looks- at Fraser, steadily. After a moment, incredulousness creeps across his face; there and gone again.* For _you_, dear sir. *He shakes his head* It's _not_ a 'normal' assignment, nor is it a simple one. You've made a mistake, one that can be at least -somewhat- rectified... Don't be so hard on yourself. No one is perfect... *He nods, frowning at the door.* So they were. When this is over, you may end up doing a lot of database work... I'm -not- making any solid decisions just at the moment. *Reaching out again, he runs a mental finger oh-so-gently over the mind- no, mind-s-. Hmm. The first wasn't terribly familiar, but it did belong to the Guild... The other was someone he'd rather not deal with at the moment. Resigning himself to it, he nods to the portal.* Come in, please...

#Finn Sturlasson is almost as wide as he is tall... And he -is- tall. He could be Strapping Young Lads' posterboy... The young man is only a few years Coventry's junior, though he probably has six inches and a hundred pounds on the man. One obvious thing about Finn is that he clearly adores Fraser, having adopted the same neatly casual mode of dress... Pressed, starched and somewhat confused, the man holds a still bound and gagged Ruth TeaselWeed a few inches from the floor, looking between Thomas and Fraser.#

-=Fraser gulps quietly, looking between the opened door, Finn and Thomas with equal portions fear, embarrassment and childish guilt. Finn puzzled him somewhat-- the lad seemed in his shadow a great deal when he was at the hall, and he'd yet to figure out why. Ruth merely angered and disgusted him, and that was without a peek into her head. For once, the dark-haired man decides there's nothing to envy about Thomas' talent.=- Oh...er...this is...well, Ruth TeasleWeed. Sir. I-- Oh dear. -=Flabbergasted, Fraser falls quite silent.=-

I know who she is, Mr. Coventry. *Horribly tempted to pat him on the head, pleased that he'd bitten back the short 'yes, dear' that had risen at Fraser's statement, he waves the pair forward.* Hello, Mr. Sturlasson. Why, pray tell, are you here? *He looks back to Fraser, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet, unaccusing.* Did you leave your door open?

*Ruth raises her brows at Thomas, scowls as well as she can at Fraser, then tilts her head back to get a thrilling view of her bearer's chin and up his nose. Rather nonplussed, she goes back to looking daggers at Fraser.* Mmmewo, mmphmter gihmwmw...

#Finn, now looking rather uneasy, sets the chair down in order to close the door quietly. Hefting his bundle again, he carries her easily to where Fraser and Thomas sit.# "Um, hello, sirs..." #He remains standing behind Ruth.#

Sorry. -=Quietly spoken, with a quick reminder to himself that Finn was far from a "lad"... Unaware of the Guildmaster's thoughts, he settles into a straight-backed pose of stolid submission.=- No, sir. Closed quite securely.

-=He glances from Ruth to Finn to Thomas and back, blue eyes shifting restlessly and wondering who has the most to do with the hot flush rising from the nape of his neck.=-

*A sardonic glance is all Ruth gets from him.* And hello to you, too. *Frowning, he suddenly stands and peers at something on his desk, then at the woman again... He decides the matter can wait. Ignoring the blush, he waves a hand at Coventry.* It's alright, Mr. Coventry. Closed? I see. *Turning to Finn, he points to the vacated chair.* Sit. Now, tell me -why- you brought this woman down here.

Yes, sir. -=And so he falls silent again, listening to the world around him, yet refusing to participate unless asked. His legs braced slightly apart, arms tucked behind his back, if it weren't for the leather jacket and dock worker's boots, he might very well have been the perfect soldier. By appearances, at any rate.=-

*Ruth discards Fraser (whom she'd begun eying) as Finn settles into the appointed chair. His ancestors were most likely of Norse descent, but somewhere the family had found a mate with red hair...* Mmmph.

#Finn's confusion turned to chagrin as he caught sight of Fraser's reddening face, and he perched meekly (or as meekly as he -could-) under Thomas' gaze.# "You see, sir, I meant t'visit with Mr. Coventry a minute 'r two, but nobody was t'home... I had a question for him, y'see... And I heard some funny noise, then a sound like a body falling over."' #He notices his hands wringing and clamps them between his knees.# "I thought... I mean..." #A sigh# "I'm afraid I owe you a new lock, Mr. Coventry, sir."

-=Making a small sound, something like a whimper perhaps, Fraser looks anywhere -but- Ruth, up to and including Finn's red hair and Thomas's paperweights.=- Quite all right Finn. I realize that what you found wasn't quite what you were...er...ex-expecting.

#Looking much like a chastised child, he glances up at Thomas, then to Fraser.# "I didn't know what else t'do... She didn't seem particularly...upset, er..." #He sighs, catching Ruth's scrutiny. The frank appraisal sends blood to warm his face... Yet another similarity.#

*He just looks around the circle, silent, blinking occasionally.* I have utterly no idea what I'm going to do with -any- of you. *He contemplates them again, apparently thinking about something.*

-=Clearing his throat, he dares to mumble out a few words, giving Finn a very small smile.=- I do thank you for your concern. -=Properly chastened by Thomas' exasperation, Fraser rocks a little on his heels, staring at the ground to avoid looking at he or Ruth. Lovely pattern on the rug, that was. Reminded him of one in his mother's house actually. What -would- his mother say about all this? She'd have been mortified by his actions, he was sure... He was straying again. oh dear.=-

#Fraser's words are enough to make him forget the situation at hand for a moment, though he's still not very happy with himself. He brightens, slumps, then nods.# "I'll... I'll fix your lock soon. I'll get D'karegil..." #He trails off, frowning at Ruth, unsure of what he should say in her presence.#

*The woman has traded him in for the Guildmaster in her examination of the male form. Ruth hasn't struggled once since she'd gotten Finn's attention and was brought down... In fact, she looks almost relaxed, for someone tied to a chair.*

No need to worry over it. -=He clears his throat again, brushing flopping brown hair from his eyes as he regards Ruth as well. She was certainly...er...odd.=-

Mr. Coventry? *He'd looked from the captive woman to the clutter on his desk several times, now. Leaning over, he plucks a photograph from the pile. The man studies it for a moment longer, then hands it to his agent.* Is this the same woman? You mentioned something about a package...

Er...-=Glancing at the photo, blue eyes shift back and forth, comparing.=- It would appear so, sir. And yes, there was a package.

#He nods again, blinking at Ruth... Reminding himself to ask Fraser what exactly Ruth had done to warrant being tied up, he looks up.# "Sir? I think, 'r, that is- Am I- Oh, drat." #Taking a deep breath, he sits up as straight as he can.# "Will you be needing me anymore, sir?"

Mmuh Phahagh...? *Ruth is glowering again, looking between Thomas and Fraser...*

-=Unable to answer, Fraser remains here he is, staring at Ruth as he tries to decipher her sock-muffled words.=-

I thought so... *He moves around his desk again, sorting through the envelope's contents once more. The picture Fraser still held shows a decidedly younger Ruth, squinting into the sun, standing on a dock, holding the hand of a small child. Who the child -is- is difficult to tell... He nods at Finn's question.* That's all, Mr. Sturlasson. Thank you... Oh, and you're confined to quarters for the rest of today and tomorrow. I'll explain it to you later. *His tone was final, and he doubted that the young man would make much of a fuss over it... He waits until Finn is gone before he settles into the recently vacated seat and extending several rather unsettling (to put it mildly) photographs in Fraser's direction.* Did you examine the contents of the package? *He offers no explanation for his possession of the pictures, yet.*

-=Fraser blanches distinctly, nodding a bit as he retakes the seat he vacated.=- Yes, sir. I...oh dear. There was no need for those pictures to...to reach their intended...victim, I should say. No need at all. -=He -does- wonder how the pictures happened to have made their way to Thomas' desk, but doesn't ask, thinking himself in enough hot water already.=-

#Finn nods silently to the Guildmaster, trusting the promise of an explanation wholly, then pads out of the room.#

Phighwuh...? Wh'iheh'ihfghn'nhuh...? *She cranes her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it is that's making the guy in the leather jacket look so ill.*

How did you figure out that it wasn't merely something related to their business? Isn't the victim's partner involved in commerce and trade? *The questions aren't a challenge, he's honestly curious.* Were they the only thing in the package? Why was it sent? *He shrugs, turning his hands palms out again.* Most people would feel that way, Mr. Coventry. *He fixes the talkative Ruth with a steady gaze, narrowing his eyes... After a moment, she becomes quite fascinated by something unseen.* However, as you know, you aren't supposed to be the one making that decision. And -that- subject is closed to discussion at the moment.

-=Nodding to Finn before he leaves seems the last movement out of Fraser Lyn as he stares down at his folded fingers.=- There was a note, it's in my desk. I'd be happy to go get it for you. -=His voice jumps a bit, and he chides himself for his avoidance.=- I...she delivered them herself sir, and...to be trite, she's never brought the boy anything but bad tidings. -=His career was over...another step down the road towards his father's fate. His shame deepens the blush.=- I know, sir.

A note? *He nods, reaching back into the mess on his desk and extracting a few more items.* Do you remember what it said, or would you like to go get it? *Another shake of his head* It certainly looks that way. *He gives the man a curt nod.* I know you know, which is why we're not going to discuss it again, just yet. *He didn't -have- to be able to poke around in Fraser's head to tell that he was rather distraught... He wasn't quite sure of what he was going to do, so he keeps to what seems the safest course at this point and says nothing.*

I believe it was something to the effect of "Love, Mother", though I could be mistaken. -=His legs seem dead weight to him now, and it's a rather good thing he's seated.=-

*That surprises him.* Love, Mother? That's it? *He turns a fairly black look on the still unmoving woman, then looks to whatever's on the top of the stack he holds.* Funny... -This- missive is rather longer. *He hands over what is clearly a blackmail attempt. Settling back with a barely audible sigh and crossing his arms, he closes his eyes.* You _have_ to get more information from your employer regarding this job. The agent that received the request, along with what I've shown you, flat refused the assignment... I'll look into the reasons behind the letter. I'm beginning to think someone really wants them to see this...detritus. I also think it's time our prime, and only, suspect began to answer a few questions...

*Meanwhile...* ||~A little face, red, cranky, eyes squinched shut... little wisps of dark green hair stuck up this way and that... The ugliest, somewhat unnatural-looking appendages on the babe's back... They were covered with something, dark, mottled with lighter patches.... They were red. ... ... ... Downy. They were little wings, those of a chick... Bright blue-green eyes looking up at her, the fuzz almost a match...~|| *Ruth, lost in her memories of Carrot as a baby, is completely oblivious to anything being discussed by Fraser and Thomas.*

The nature of the package...I believe the note was quite...effectively worded. -=Blue eyes widen at the longer letter, and he glances at Ruth with a look of disgust, rare for his mild personality.=- I could contact my employer tonight sir, if that would ease your mind. I'm certain it would ease mine a bit. -=He blinks, taking a moment to realize that the tone was not directed at him, but rather at the bound woman.=-

I don't doubt it. *he nods once, sitting up again.* Yes, the sooner the better. Make up some plausible excuse if they get to asking why... *The reminder is mostly absent-minded rhetoric, his eyes on Ruth again.*

||~Green. Green hair, again... Yellow eyes, bright with a baby's natural curiosity, hands curled so tightly that she wondered if he had thumbs... A quiet little thing....~||

Yes sir. -=Muffled by Fraser's downcast face, the words are properly inflectionless.=- Yes sir, I'll do that.

And for the last time, Fraser, -quit- acting as if it's the end of the world. We can't afford to think emotionally, right now, understood? Compassion, and a desire to do what is right are both very good, but it's time to -stop- thinking that way. You have a job to do, and no time for self-pity, guilt, anguish, worry, or being maudlin. Logic is our friend, Mr. Coventry. Remember that. *It was hard to be angry with someone willing to sacrifice their livelihood for their principles, but Fraser's insistence on being a font of despair was making his head hurt. Both things were annoying to the point that it seemed a shock was what the younger man needed.*

Yes sir! -=Buck up, his father's voice demanded, and so he did, breath steady and eyes locking with the Guildmaster.=- Sorry sir. I should know better. -=A careful nod follows, and Fraser rises to his feet, glancing at Ruth.=- Er...sir? Where should I put her? Or should I leave her here for you? -=Nevermind the possibility that Thomas might want him in the room to be questioned as well...in his naivete, it never occurs to him.=-

||~ ... How tall, now? Taller than her... Same eyes, though, and wings... And the other, a mere slip of a thing, though grown... ... ... Brown hair. No extra limbs, no fuzz, nothing amiss... Brown eyes, like her mother's... A daughter. ... ... ... A startled face, caught by the camera, smudged... Where, now? A yellow...something.... ~||

Good. *Another curt nod, standing as well.* It's nothing... Better than having to slap you with a wet fish to get your attention. *A small smile touches his mouth, then fades.* Leave her here, for the time being. I have some questions for her. Oh, and if you happen to see Jills, send her up, would you? That's all, for now.

Yes sir. -=Unaware, he snaps off a rather military salute and heads towards the door.=- I'll see to it. Thank you sir. -=Turning the handle, he looks outside before stepping into the hallway.=-

Good. Thank you, Fraser... *He waits until the the man is gone before he laughs softly at the unconscious salute, relaying the image to Cole... His mirth evaporates at the sight of Ruth, and he turns his mind to the task of getting information from her.*

-=Turning down the hallway, faced with the task of calling the personal assistant to the Empress, who had a lovely accent and a dastardly way of flirting with him over the phone, Fraser sighs.=-

||~...Maternal Instincts. Maybe hers weren't as obvious as everyone else's. She cared about their welfare, didn't she? Of course. No one was to lay a hand on the boy- Little eyes opening at the sound of her voice, hungry squeaks.... Toothless mouth opening in a tiny yawn.... Pulse a steady little hum under her fingertips....~||

*Thomas carefully wanders into the woman's mind, beginning to slip into a state of semi-consciousness as he follows memories of a green-haired boy...*

||~ ...Glimpses of her only remaining son over the years, blending into little pockets of information... How old? Where? Why... Jor, and Ti, and a plethora of other faces... ~||

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