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"Of course," Quinn said, and rolled her eyes behind Antoinette's back as she followed the other woman through the crowd, making sure to keep her in sight.

In some part of her brain, she hoped the lady would try and run for it. She loved when they tried to run. It made her job so much more fun when she got to plow pretty faces into the pavement.

Once they escaped the crowd, she strode into a coffee shop across the road, choosing a booth back from the others a bit, but still positioned so she could see the door. You never knew what kind of idiots would waltz into one of these places.

As she waited for the other woman to sit across from her, she signalled the waitress for two coffees, comfortable in the patched red vinyl booth seat.

"Do I have your consent to record this interview?" She asked for form's sake, and really hoped she'd say no so she could finish off her day by hauling someone into the station.

Aubia turned to Cwen, and smiled warmly. "Thank you, thank you very much Miss Hazard." She bowed, a gentle dip of her head, her brown curls rolling off her shoulders. She hoped Maxwell would give an affirmative answer as well. With his connections, he would be invaluable. With Alexander, she would have that much more access to police resources. Cwen had incredible political clout, and even without them, Aubia still had the Admins - hopefully, after this stunt.

She turned to Maxwell, and gave him an inquiring look. This needed to go faster, so she could get off this damned stage.

"Antoinette du Soleil. James was a coworker. He was a few years older than me, in a different division. I was not close with him, though we did interact from time to time in the break room." Yes, she believed it was James Kipling who she was talking about. At the very least, that is what his nametag had read. "He was smart, I suppose you could say, but not particularly observant. I don't know much of him outside of his work life. We rarely talked for long periods, and when we did it was always about work."

She was straightforward. There was no point in beating around the bush with any of this. She knew he had a dog. He wasn't married--at least, there was no ring on his finger and he never spoke of a wife. She didn't think he had a girlfriend, as he did seem to flirt with her from time to time. He hadn't held enough interest for her outside of the occasional conversation, so she had not reciprocated. Generally, he was agreeable. He would sometimes ask her for ideas on things he was doing during their coffee-conversations, because he obviously recognized her intelligence.

((I'm making all this up. I hope it's okay, haha.))

"There were no scenes that I can remember, but there were a few days that he would seem... perhaps a bit tired." Antoinette pursed her lips. What was it? She thought he'd said something about it once. On one of her better days (she had just gotten a raise, she believed), she had asked him. It was rare that she asked after anyone. She had seen the surprise on his face, and rolled her eyes at it. "...He said once that it was nothing I should be concerned with. The next time I asked, he was silent. I remember something about an old schoolmate, and a few weeks after one of these episodes, his dog died. Or, at least, that is what he told me. Pressed to death by a landing car, it seemed. Found flat as a pancake when he came home, unrecognizable other than the collar. He was very shaken up. He did not come to work for a few days.

"I think there was more than just what it seemed to the dog, but I never asked too much into it at the time. He was sentimental, and close to the dog. I simply assumed that it was just depression and he would get over it. Now, though, I would not be surprised if there was something more with the dog's murder, and I am certain that it was not accidental, either. Being an accident had always been far-fetched anyways; Daisy was a golden lab. It is hard to overlook such dogs, especially with modern technology."

((It has. We're some time later that night.))

Flarn Zeglos – Ekruh mechanic
The wind's a bit refreshing.

Nodding to Jack, Flarn's suit went rigid as he let go of all the control nodes inside. With a hiss, the front of the torso and helmet split apart and slid to either side. With a wet slap, Flarn jumped out of the suit and onto the ground, quickly spreading a puddle over the floor. "I think I'll take the upgrades just now, if you don't mind. Saves me coming in next month." "What the feck was that blob?" Tentacles wrigled out in several directions and pushed together until Flarn's 'head' rose up to about the same height as Jack's. One tentacle slapped on top of the Scot's robot ball as it whizzed past for a better look. "I would appreciate if you didn't call me a blob." Letting go, Flarn half slithered over to the nearest chair and slopped himself down on it, leaving a healthy trail behind him. Settling next to one of the TV's set round the place, he tuned in on the comfrence, though it seemed to be nearly finished. Maxwel Hale and Cwen Hazard seemed to have joined the team, as well as some detective. Come to think of it, Bolts had told Jack he had been picked for it as well. "Hey Jack. What was that investigation team you were picked for about? There's some really big names involved with this.

Antoinette frowned at this. The Black Sector...? As Admins, sometimes they had to go to see that wires were all well in the sectors, but James was not part of that division. Antoinette was, but only vaguely. "I do not recall anything about the Black Sector," she said, slowly, articulating everything quite deliberately as she chewed (so to speak) on the thought. "I do, however, remember one of his ex-girlfriends feeling quite worried for him in the recent weeks. Her name was... Abigail? She was not an Admin, and I only encountered her a few times. I believe that they broke on good terms, because he never seemed bitter about it, and she didn't strike me as angry or resentful."

She was onto something. She could feel it in her blood--the very feeling she got when she was taking old, scrapped blueprints and making them realities (always in secret, though, because she did not yet have the influence in the Admins to actually divulge such things and still be given credit). Abigail... no, that was not her name, but Antoinette had never cared enough to think much of the girl. She'd been rather plain, but seemed to be quite loyal and all that other mushy gobbeldy-gook.

What was it? Antoinette couldn't remember any conversations with the girl clearly, as she'd been marked unimportant. A little silence ensued as Antoinette stared--nay, glared at the wall in thought. It was a lovely wall, too. Its jewel-esque color, though a bit faded from time, reminded Antoinette of one of her favorite shirts, which had been ruined by a coffee-spill one of the times she'd run into Hannah. Yes, that was her name. Hannah, who had been in such a hurry that she hadn't bothered to look up as she rushed to find James, and in her rush had bumped into Antoinette, spilling hot, delicious black coffee all over her favorite teal-jewel shirt. She'd been very angry, as if the day hadn't gone badly enough. If she recalled correctly, she'd threatened Hannah with... something, she wasn't sure what, if the girl did not pay to fix or replace her precious shirt.

She was still upset at the loss, but this current problem seemed more urgent. "...Hannah was her name. She said something once about a rival. That is how it sounded to me, at least--she was all tears and flustered insults to a man whose name I didn't catch, though he apparently went to school with them. He had something to do with the Black Sector. Something shady, and I do believe gangs were involved." Well, the one title-name Hannah had uttered struck Antoinette as a gang name, at least. She didn't remember what it was, but it was plural and it was 'threatening.' Or perhaps they had intended 'scary.' No matter. She didn't bother with that.