"Am I..." She took a breath, to steady her voice. "Do I have permission to exit my cell?"
The policeman looks kind of surprised at your response. He turns around and sighs. "You're.... well, I see that the DoGS will like you. Come on, then. Let's go to the medical wing to get you all fitted out."
The two of you slowly trot down out and down the hallway, into a medical facility, with a surgeon there, sitting slouched on one of those spinning chairs, drinking something from a can. You sniff. Is that... beer?
She looks up. "Yo. Is that the replacement?"
The policeman nods. "Yep."
"Alright then." She crunches the can in her hand, and throws it into a recycling bin. "We're going to implant a tracking chip into your back and snap a explosive collar onto your one of your legs. Got any preference for which leg?"
"Klara, come, we will be going out and have some refreshment before we get to work." Erin called out to her young partner, standing in the hallway with the files neatly tucked in her arm. "I hope you were staying out of troubles while I was being briefed."
"Well, I guess I'll have to invite him some other time..." She sighed, then turned her attention back to Erin, "Lead the way!"
You drop in at the closest coffee place across the way. It's a Starbucks, with a stifling sort of cozy atmosphere, and a barista who looks much way to happy to be working at a low wage high labor job. There are a few people writing their latest novels on their laptops, and a couple chatting in the corner.
The barista looks up. "Hi, welcome to Starbucks! What can I get you?"
((
@Azrael: You smell the faint smell of ghouls around the place. There has been a ghoul in this Starbucks recently. Right next to DoS headquarters. That's... interesting.))
She flicked the butt into traffic and pulled over in front of a decidedly dodgy-looking diner with a broken sign and posters in Vietnamese on the walls.
Once Ashatnaya's finished, he lapses into silence, waiting placidly for the response--and the ca phe.
The code that comes back is lackidasical, cheerful, and not that much different from Tarataler's usual speech, except it doesn't have that aspect of coldness that always lies behind his friendly demeanor. 'It's going to be expensive,' is the base message he's telling you. Bonesmith has apparently refused to deal direct with a low of smallfries and for some strange reason Tarataler in particular- as if he wasn't the most trustworthy sort of man in the land. That means he's going to go through a lot of intermediaries of his own to get into contact with Bonesmith and he's going to have to burn some favors and money for doing so.
Fortunately Tarataler has something he needs doing that he'd be willing to wave the price for. See, he's going to be trying to get into a meeting with some out of town fellows, and he needs to impress. And that means muscle. In Detroit, his reputation as 'someone you don't fuck with' is built solid, but out of own he's just a rat with good prices. So he needs like four, five ghouls. Do that, and he'll start burning favors and wealth to get you your meeting with Bonesmith.
The Ca Phe arrives shortly thereafter, a rich dark coffee over chilled ice served in a flimsy plastic cup so cold you can feel the perspiration dripping off it. It comes with a small bag filled with crisp sharp egg rolls, filled with a mix of vegetables and corned beef, which add that umami to the sharp and light fried outer bread layering.
