2014.01.29 - Whiskey Tango

It's a busy afternoon, and the theatre district is, as usual, quite crowded. Amanda Sefton moves through the crowds with ease, however, pausing occasionally to look at various signs or chat with some of the hawkers that impede the flow of foot traffic through the are, handing out fliers and selling their wares.

She's dressed casually, her usual satchel slung across her torso, a second bag on her shoulder. Pausing at a small gap between buildings, she pulls a small phial about the size of her thumb, filled with a chalky white fluid, and sets it into the crevice of a broken brick.

Rowan Coventry steps out of a small bookstore, a kind of hole in the wall place with barely even a sign, just the word 'Book' on white door. He tucks a slim volume into his pocket and draws out his pack of cigarettes, pulling one and lighting it with a worn Zippo emblazoned with the Union flag of the UK. He draws a resentful snare from a woman as he lights, the well dressed lady making a point to give him a wide birth and earning herself a two fingered 'V' in the process.

TJ's still not up to her usual friendly, cheerfully social standards, but she has been a little easier to catch lately. She's still spending a lot of time 'somewhere else,' though for the moment she's just outside of the Majestic inspecting the roofline for any wear and tear that might have been overlooked before. It's an old and cold building, no one likes winter drafts. It shouldn't be a big deal, though one does need to watch out for the occasional patch of ice up there.

"Whup--!"

A fresh dusting of snow falls from overhead as the Wagnerette darts a hand and a tail out, catching the side of the building then hanging there overlooking the edge of the building. "Whew..! That was about two seconds away from sucking."

Once the small phial is placed, the blonde steps back from the edge of the building, in time for a dusting of snow to rain down. She looks straight up. "Really, TJ?" she calls, her accent faintly European, somewhat English. A real mix. "It's a roof, not a car. It doesn't need to be scraped off." She thumbs back over her shoulder, towards where Rowan leans -- or, more specifically, towards that narrow door with the white 'Book'. "I'm going across the street to talk to Chavez. If you see Kurt, tell him I want that bottle of Bowmore returned, whole and unbroken. Or else replaced. I need for some work I'm doing." A highly expensive and choice whiskey, that Bowmore is.

That said, she gives the girl a smile and a wave and starts across the street. Not, mind, that the girl isn't free to join her. She angles unerringly toward the young man with the cig, unconcerned, for the moment, with his presence.

Rowan Coventry satisfied that the anti-smoker has been propery rebuffed, Rowan takes a long drag on his smoke, his free hand reaching into his pocket to get his stocking cap. As he idly gazes the street, he sees Amanda for a momet, but then a glimpse of motion above reveals Talia. He's startled for a moment, but then remembers seeing the woman before, at Rain's rummage sail. She was rather hard to miss. But what's she doing here?

"I was just testing it as a viable skating rink," Talia replies as she looks from the ground to the wall she's hanging to before simply letting go. She lands without a sound, no worse for wear. However, now that she doesn't have a roofline to inspect, she has nothing else to do. "That guy's always out on some crazy adventure or another," she mutters while hurrying along after Amanda.

Coming across a younger, taller guy with silver eyes, she does a quick double-take. A quick estimate of his age is taken before she frowns at him with those solid-colored eyes. "Arencha a little young to be hooked on that habit?"

It's true, they did pass within close proximity of one another at the sale. There were lots of interesting and colorful creatures there, though she did spend most of her time there dangling from the ceiling. Bird's eye view of the tables, but slightly less of the locales. She might know this guy, but it's a bit more difficult for her to place.

"Skating rink," Amanda says dryly, amusement in her tone at TJ's excuse. "Ri-ight." As the girl joins her, she smiles. It's good the kid's no hiding quite as much as she had been. That's progress, certainly. And, it's true, Kurt is usually off on some crazy adventure somewhere. She wouldn't be surprised to hear he's moved permanently back out to his new boat, or even back to the mansion. But, that's fine. She still has her condo, after all. And maybe there'll be less jelly donut massacres in the rafters, were that to happen.

Where she might give the young man with silver eyes hardly a second glance, however, TJ's doubletake and comment causes her to pause. "Friend of yours?"

Rowan Coventry shrugs at Talia's comment, "I always was the precocious sort," he says, his posh accent contrary to his somewhat working class appearance. His silver eyes catch the light the way the snow does, turning to Amanda as she also speaks to Talia and answers the question himself, "Just passing along the same circles. Mutual interests, one supposes, although I try not to pry too deeply into the affairs of others," he says, a bit of snow swirling oddly around his feet, as if caught in a small, mild vortex.

"I don't..know..." Talia admits in all honesty as she squints, her head canted slightly as she continues to peer at Rowan. "Silver eyes aren't all that common, I'd like to think I would remember a detail like that."

There it is! One can almost -see- the lightbulb turning on in her thoughts as her eyes go right back to their usual widened state, backlit just enough to make them stand out in the middle of the day. A chunky set of fingers snaps once, pointing in the air at the man. "Oh--ah..what was it..garage sale..yeah! Right? Recognize the voice." More the accent, really. Considering where they met, and the other little peculiarities involved, she's willing to bet that he's something other than the run of the mill person. As if the snow vortex doesn't suggest that all on its own.

Amanda's eyes flit lightly to that little swirl of snow, and back to the face of the man with silver eyes. She glances between him and Talia, and then smiles politely. "Nice to meet you," she says simply.

She pauses, then and her head cants for a moment, as if she's caught a sound. Then, she glances back over her shoulder. A brow arches as she spies a small blue creature scrabbling at the wall where she placed that small phial. "Oh, for-- Excuse me," she says then, giving both a tight smile. At a trot, then, she's dodging the taxis and delivery trucks to try to catch the thing.

Rowan Coventry nods to Talia's recognition, "Got it in one. It was fairly crowded and there was a man with a pentagram on his chest, so it's not surprising I didn't precisely stick out," he chuckles.

"Pleas-" he starts to say to introduce himself to Amanda when she sees the creature and trots off. He tries to peer through the traffic himself, "Is your friend quite all right?" he asks Talia.

"Right," Talia agrees with a slight wrinkling of her face. Mister Pentagram was difficult to miss, what with the teleporting in with the pyrotechnics and running around with barely any clothes on in the dead of winter. Flamboyance versus subtlety.

Just like that, Amanda's taking off by herself. TJ's likewise stopping short at the turn of events, staring after the other woman with her jaw hanging slightly open. "..Okay, I have no idea what that's about." Weirdness, it's a common trait around here. Turning back to Rowan with a lopsided smile that doesn't take -too- much effort to conjure forth, she offers a three-fingered hand in greeting. "Talia. That's Amanda, off doing ..a thing," the blue one finishes with another peculiar glance passed back Sefton's way. "Unexplained stuff is practically a daily occurrence around here, you might be able to relate."

The blue creature looks up at Amanda, her phial clutched in its chunky, three-digit hand. A spaded tail waves behind it and it looks up at her with reflective, backlit yellow eyes. "Bah," it says, pouring out the white liquid from the phial onto the ground. "Not whiskey!"

"Zum Teufel?" the sorceress says, eyes widening at the sight of the miniature Nightcrawler. "Whiskey?" Wait. "Whiskey! Did you-- Kurt? Oh, bloody hell..." She lunges to try to snag the thing by the scruff of its neck but it... well, yes. It *BAMFS*.

The next thing anyone knows, there are little puffs of sulfur appearing all over the street as the thing either manages to multiply itself dozens of times over, bouncing from post to box to light fixture to car and back again, or else is joined by a myriad of nearly identical twins.

There's the sound of screeching tires, the crunch of crumpled car fenders, and the startled yelps of people when the critters start interrupting the flow of traffic.

One old homeless guy lets out an indignant howl as he's accosted by a blue bamfer that grabs his paperbag bottle and *BAMFS* away. "Heeeeeeeyyyy! Tha's miiiiiine, y' fuzzy, thieving, blue rodent! Give it back!"

Rowan Coventry blinks at the sudden proliferation of little fuzzy demons, the sudden, multitudinous arrival of the things making his head whip around a bit, "I'm guessing it wasn't just because she saw a passing ice cream trolley," he says with a laugh. One poofs into existence on his shoulder, tugging on a lock of his hair, "Oy, what's your damage?" he mutters as the things leap off. It's hard not to note the resemblance, "Somebody you know?" he asks Talia.

"I--eh..was that..? Uhm." Blink. -Bamf?- "Okay, who the heck ordered the twenty-one bamf salute?"

With another puff of dark hued smoke another one of those fuzzy little creatures appears on the trunk of a car right next to Talia. "Gah!"

Foomp!

Bamf!

"Someone I don't think I'm supposed to know..!" TJ replies from up above, clinging to a streetlight as though the giant sandworms from Tremors were real and could burrow right through concrete. No sooner can she respond when another drops in practically nose to nose with the Wagnerette, prompting another yelp and Foomp! up to the rooftops, where there's -another- yelp and round of teleporting.

This time she's hiding behind a car, fingertips upon the fender as she peers cautiously over the hood.

Then the car alarm goes off, leading to one more teleport which leaves her standing nose to door at the Majestic's front entrance.

She still can't go through walls like Kurt can. "Darnit--!"

Amanda spins as TJ lands on the front steps of the theatre. "God help us, if that's your father," she says. A beat. "God help him, if that's your father!" She reaches into her satchel and pulls out a couple of purple phials. "Because I swear, if he's gone and gotten himself captured and cloned, I'll skin him alive once we get him back." Or maybe just tattoo a locator spell under his fur.

Man, would he protest the shave.

The phials go sailing through the air, aimed at a couple of the Bamfs. One bamfs out of the way. The second one is hit with the phial, which shatters against its fur. It finds itself floating in a small purple bubble, held in stasis, a look of indignant surprise on its face.

Energy shimmers around Amanda and her appearance shifts from casual wear to rune-inscribed leathers and a hood. The second bag she was carrying is left on the steps as she starts priming magic bolts to try to corral the crazed critters.

Rowan Coventry stares for a moment at Amanda's transformation, the runes striking a familiar chord with some of his recent mystick studies. He may not be able to practice magick yet, but he can certainly recognize it. He steps a little out into the street and light starts to shimmer in his silver eyes as he rises slowy from the ground, as if suspended from an invisible hook. The air around him starts to quiver, a manhole cover starting to rattle in its hole as his power swirls around him. A couple BAMF into place on a nearby car and are immediately grasped by his power, flung from the roof and towards the front of the Theatre.

Okaaaay, so this guy with the silver eyes is definitely not of the normal variety. TJ turns around and catches sight of the two individuals attempting to suppress the herd. With the handful of little creatures being thrown towards the Majestic she can't think of anything better to do than to pull the front door open and stand clear, letting the critters get tossed into the front hall before closing the door after them.

She has no idea if that will hold them, mind, but it makes her feel better having something she can do.

It also dawns on her a second later that maybe they don't want these guys -inside of the Majestic.- "Oh, no... Stay out of my room, you little twerps!"

TJ's about to teleport once more when she catches herself short, a hand held to her forehead as though suddenly feeling dizzy. "What the heck's going on here, Amanda..! Last I heard we didn't come by the litter!"

Astute students of the occult would probably recognize the runes on the sorceress' light armour as reminiscent of protective and defensive wards. They're not classically constructed, though they have a classical base. The woman has been very well-trained and can improvise her own creations.

"Hell if I know," Amanda replies to her fuzzy blue friend. "But, if they get into your room, it's your own damned fault!" Because TJ's the one that opened the door.

And, indeed, the Bamfs in the lobby seem entirely happy to scatter off and explore the inside of the newly renovated theatre. "Oh, bloody hell," Amanda mutters again. "I just finished paying for that."

She notes Rowan's levitation trick, and the strength of his power, even if his use of it is rudimentary. "Right," she says decisively. "We need to corral them, get them off the street before they completely shut this place down."

Well, okay, it's probably too late, for that. The traffic is already snarled and, in typical NY fashion, the crowds are torn between running for their lives and picking up whatever makeshift weapons they can to defend their city.

Rowan Coventry frowns slightly as the beasties make their way inside, the few scrambling near him continuing to get flung around at random. The antenna of a nearby taxi tears off, flying through the air and impaling itself in a wall and cracks begin to form in a nearby fire hydrant, "If you heard them in my direction, I'll sureky give them a headache, but you don't want me using my powers in your building, trust me."

Moments later comes the first *crash!* from inside, prompting TJ to hunch her shoulders in a reflexive flinch. "That..didn't sound so good." At the sight of people looking for makeshift weapons, her concern rapidly grows. What comes next is the retrained voice of a singer, for very fast, angsty music, that manages to both cut into, and keep up with, very harsh use of instrumentals. "The situation is under control people, -stay in your cars!-"

The next one to land near her finds a tail snapping out and coiling about its neck, starting to grin with a "Got you!" when it simply bamfs right out of her hold. "So not fair."

Back to Amanda, she calls out "Where else are we going to put them? We've gotta get 'em off the streets first!" Even if that means putting their own home directly under the crosshairs.

"At least, let me lay a containment circle!" Amanda replies. The fact her stasis spell still holds the one Bamf tells her that their teleporting isn't nearly as strong as Kurt, who could break that spell with little more than an extra second's effort. Which means she can, in fact, contain them. Probably.

She glances over to Rowan, rising up into the air herself as she does. The cracks in the pavement and the destruction that seems to be swirling around her tells her that he's very likely right. Especially in light of the recently completed renovations. "Can you hold them?" she asks him, "or at least control the direction of where you throw them? Because I have an idea..."

Rowan Coventry bites his bottom lip, "I...I can try," he says. Containing his maelstrom or, as he sometimes calls it, his "demon" has been a high priority for most of his adolescence, a priority largely met with failure. But he has been focusing more, his studies reinforcing his mind as well as his knowledge, "I can't guarantee much in the way of accuracy, but...a direction...I think so..."

Just how does one contain a bunch of gremlin-sized teleport-enabled creatures from Hell..? "Idea," TJ suddenly announces as though the very thought of having an idea will save them all from a very bad day. Quickly bracing herself, she opens the door one more time and prepares to go barging inside when one of the critters leapfrogs off of her head and bamfs out of the air mid-leap behind her. "Friggin--!"

Rowan's going to have some more demons to wrestle with. He won't have to go at it alone, however. Amanda's quite well experienced at Containing the Bamf. All the same, every bit of help will probably go a long way.

There's still clear unrest within the Theatre's walls, as another object striking the floor would prove. "Hey! That was mi--wait no, that one was Kurt's, nevermind."

"Keep 'em busy for five minutes, Teej," Amanda tells her friend now. "You," she says to Rowan, "give her a hand. When I give the signal, though, I want you to start flinging the bastards towards the building like you did a few moments ago."

Meanwhile the bamfs are happily causing chaos. Not everyone is willing to listen to TJ, after all, no matter how grunge-chic her voice. So, there are still people running, and others being ridden around by bamfs piggy backing on their shoulders. It's a bit of a free-for-all. Lots to keep them busy for the next five minutes...

While Amanda slips into the theatre and tries to lay a circle in the lobby.

Rowan Coventry can certainly do his part to clear out the public, his head falling back as light starts to pour from his mouth as well. There's another undercurrent to his vibration now, a hair-raising, subliminal pulse that might not do much to Amanda and TJ, attuned as they are to moments of fear and danger, but permeates the crowd quickly, making them start to flee and retreat or just back away, not even fully understanding why, Rowan tapping into their primal instincts. Of course, his other powers grow more forceful, a parked car rollig over, its windows shattering, a lightpole above starting to flicker on and off.

Five minutes. "Oh, is that all!" Talia hollers back while throwing a bamf out of the way. It comes to stick on the inside of a street level window, looking much like an old Garfield car window plushie complete with an idiotic grin before it teleports elsewhere. Five minutes is going to be an eternity with these guys running amok!

Now that Rowan's starting to do his trick, most of the commotion is back to happening outside of the Majestic rather than inside of it (and thank goodness for that.) With the car overturned it doesn't take long for one of them to up and appear upon one of the snow-packed tires like a tiny, fuzzy gargoyle in the blue.

Talia comes hurrying out through the front door soon after, one hand buried beneath her winter coat as she -stares- at the flipped car. "Also not good." She's gone and found herself a lure, but how long could she keep it away from a mob of teleporters?

"Any chance you can change that 'five' to a 'one?'"

Amanda is conscious of the sense of Rowan's powers in the back of her mind, but she isn't at all easily cowed, and is usually pretty good at blocking everything but what she needs to focus on out. Of course, when she disappears into the theatre lobby, she has to contend with a small swarm of bamfs. "Proof of concept," she says to herself, holding up her hand. In it appears a crystal cut bottle filled with rich mahogany liquid and a golden label. "This what you're looking for, boys?" she smiles. The perfect bottle of Bowmore sparkles in her hand. Just as sulfur clouds start to appear, she tosses it... back out through the theatre door.

There's a mad scramble of *BAMFS* and sulfur puffs out on the street, as the bottle goes glittering through the air.

And Amanda turns back to her work, laying the circle.

Rowan's power grasps any Bamfs drawn near to him, swirling them round and round, his chaotic telekinesis spinning enough to rattle even their otherwordly equilibrium, unable to teleport away once caught in his psi-storm, the young mand soon surrounded by a whirling cloud of wriggling blue bodies, most of them cursing him in a language he can't understand. The light continues to pour from eyes and mouth, an odd sight, making him look almost hollow, just a vessel for something greater...and now, just barely...there is a hint of the supernatural in his power...something...other...at the center of the chaos...

This whole situation is messed up, what's a couple more things like having a spotlight inside of one's head? Or a vortex of little blue demons? Talia can't make sense of any of it. At this point she's not about to try. What she does make sense of is the illusion that comes flying out past the front door shortly after her, prompting a mad bamf rush that actually leaves her grinning. The bait works. Tucked beneath her coat is a bottle of the real thing, albeit a much cheaper format than what Amanda's pretending to throw.

In the meantime there's a bit more crowd suppression work to do, spotting a guy with a tire iron starting to close in on the crowd. It takes her all of a single leap and a snag from her tail to neatly pluck the automotive tool out of the driver's hand, giving him -such- a look of disapproval. "The only lugnut here is you, buster."

There's a definite sense of closure in the back of Amanda's mind, as the casting circle is made complete and the containment wards are set. She looks out the window opposite where she chants and gestures lightly with one hand. The doors of the theatre swing open all of their own accord.

"Now!" she says softly, but her voice is projected on the wind, swirling around both TJ and Rowan. "Send them now!"

And she causes another single bottle of Bowmore to appear in the center of her circle, stepping back over the threshold to leave the invisible cage open for her prey. In seconds, blue bodies are hurtling towards her at speed... only to hang suspended in a field of energy as soon as they hit the circle's edge.

Rowan Coventry has to time his trick just right, focusing as much as he can as Amanda gets the trap ready. As she calls out it's time, he follows her voice and flings them as she directs...by shutting his power down, first on one side and then circling around, turning that maelstrom into a wind tunnel, slingshotting the devils around him and firing them like a pitching machine at his target, although it's more of a wild, scattershot spray, their little squeals trailing in their wake as Rowan's feet find the ground again, his eyes and mouth returning to normal

When the word is given the iron falls right out of Talia's tail, starting to turn and run when she stops short and whips back around, jabbing a finger at the man while giving him the ol' Evil Eye stare. Then she's gone. Once more Amanda's got the illusion working to draw them closer, but what about the ones that might not happen to see it?

From beneath that coat she pulls out a real, genuine, mostly full bottle of actual, drinkable, whiskey. If it were a comic there would probably be light sparkling off of the display.

TJ gives a heads up whistle, turns, and flings the bottle so it can come sliding across the floor of the Majestic's front hall. Fortunately it doesn't break on touchdown. Any loose critters are well on their way to getting sucked into Rowan's vortex, then Amanda's suspension capsule. ..Thingie.

Teamwork!

The Bamfs hang in the air, squealing, sulking, and otherwise making their displeasure known. But, none of them escape the circle, none of them can bamf away. Amanda steps back and carefully walks around the outside of the circle, flashing TJ a smile. "I'm impressed you didn't break it," she says as to the second bottle.

The girl's just lucky the stasis field keeps the little buggers from grabbing at it, even now. They're certainly eyeing it, though it's not nearly as good as Bowmore.

Then, however, she starts walking toward Rowan. "Are you alright, kid?"

Rowan Coventry runs a hand through his hair, a powdery dust there from some of the gathered dust and dirt of the street, brushing off the same from the shoulders of his coat, "Other than losing my smoke, I'm fine," he says, "Thanks to you, though, of course. That was a hell of a spell to put together on short notice..." he says, sincerely impressed. His hands only shiver a little as he pulls out his pack. Brave face or not, the kid hasn't seen a lot of combat...

TJ's quick to grin back at Amanda, "Agility's kinda our thing."

Frankly, she's glad she didn't miss the throw completely and take out a window with the thing.

Worse things could happen if they reached the bottle. What's the difference between a contained bamf, smashed or sober?

"Think you cleaned the streets while you were at it," she remarks to Rowan next. "Nice fastballs. Uh..if you'll excuse me, though... Mucho messo to clean-up-o," she says with a nervous expression taking over, both hands coming up to turn and point inside of the Majestic at once.

Kurt's not going to be too happy about this.

"I'll be along in a bit," Amanda tells TJ before the latter disappears into the theatre to start cleaning up -- before her father gets home. Then, however, she nods to Rowan, and offers a smile. "Thanks. I've had a few years to practice." And she's faced a lot of scary crap in that time.

Still in her leathers, of course, when she stretches out her hand to offer an introduction, she says, "They call me Daytripper. I don't think I've seen you around before."

Rowan Coventry takes the offered hand, shaking it firmly and resisting that gentlemanly hand-kissing ritual his mother tried to ingrain in him Seems a bit inappropriate in such a setting with someone so obviously formal. "Rowan Coventry," he says, "I suppose Poltergeist is the sobriquet I use when among the more colorful, tights and utility belt set," he says. "I'm envious. I've only just begun to study the mystick arts, but it feels like decades until I'll be able to manage anything like that."

"I am Amanda Sefton, when not dressed up in my brawling best," the sorceress replies with a soft chuckle. "I did notice you're still learning control. It takes a while to master any ability -- but particularly the occult." Her head cants slightly. "You don't feel excessively magical to me, though. Are you a mutant, then, instead?"

Rowan Coventry nods, "So far as I know, yes. I suspected occult origins myself...that's how I got interested in magick in the first place...but I got a genetic test done while I was...in hospital," he says, not mentioning that it was the kind of hospital with padded cells and very tight jackets. "It...eased my mind to know I wasn't haunted or possessed...except I was, in a way, because the paranormal has never quite let me go."

"Mm," Amanda nods lightly to that. "I'm a mutant, too," she admits. "Though the mysticism is in my blood more strongly than the mutant gene, actually. I can empathize." Though, perhaps not about the padded room. But, only because she's never been subjected to that particular ignominy. At least, not outside of her sojourn with the X-Men or Excalibur, when their villainous foes imprisoned them. And even then, she has a remarkably stable personality.

Her head cants lightly. "How much formal training have you had? Who is your teacher?"

Rowan Coventry brightens at that revelation, "Oh! That's nice, I...I confess I haven't met many other mutants..." he says, thinking back to his rather intense recent encounter with Magneto. No one to f*** with is the American colloquialism. "I admit, I've just been trying to teach myself, thus far...picking up books here and there, but it's all theory so far...I can recognize magick, now, ut I'm still trying to grasp how to turn theory into reality..."

"Ah," Amanda says, not really surprised by that revelation. "Well, I do know a good school for training mutants," she admits. "Though, they're not so good at teaching mystics. For that, you need someone who actually understands the arts." Which would imply someone like her. "I suspect you'd benefit from both." Her eyes squint a little as she looks off to the north. It's been a long time since she's actually done any instructing at Xavier's. And she's not really got the time to settle back into that role with them full time. Still...

"Look," she says after a moment, "I won't promise you anything, but if you want to drop by the theatre some time, I may be able to show you a few rudimentary skills you're going to need, so you don't blow yourself up. Magic is finicky. It requires a great deal of concentration and focus to wield even at its most basic level. I might be able to show you a couple of tricks." She won't make any promises, however. Not until she knows him better.

Rowan Coventry contains his excitement at the prospect and just nods, that legendary English reserve serving him well, allowing him to stay placid at the offer, "I admit, I self-taught with my abilities as well...but that has given me quite a bit of practice at concentrating and centering my mind...it took a lot more to contain my abilities once..." he says. He can understand her wariness, as well, just as he wouldn't commit so quickly. What if her teaching method is taking hot slug baths twice a week to open his chakras? Caution is called for on all sides. "I will probably take you up on that."

Amanda gestures to the Majestic Theatre, "If you don't find me there," she says, her accent marking her as foreign to America as he, "you can at least leave a message for me there and I'll find you." A smile. "But, I'm usually there."

And with the Bamfs to clean up, she'll probably be there a lot more in the coming days. If only to try to keep her investment in one piece.

Rowan Coventry nods, "I'll be in touch. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, regardless of circumstance. Let Miss...TJ, was it? Give her my regards as well," he says, not taking up any more of the sorceress' time. He draws the bookstore volume from his pocket as he heads off towards the subway: A History of New York Cemeteries. Rather an odd book to read...