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Laughing a bit more he responded.

"It's something some of us get roped into once in a while I suppose."

Needless to say he was glad she'd made it out safely. Entering Aekea he stopped for a moment looking around for a certain shop.

"I'm starved. Wahnt to get something to eat?"

Eyeing the surroundings a bit more he spotted what he was looking for, an old man who hauled around his fine eatery. A sort of cart that resembled a cooking table with a small roof on it and seats placed infront of it. The old man behind it cooking all osrts of things, noodles, grilled, fish, chicken, etc.

Leading the way he brought her to the old man's stand and gestured for her to take a seat. Some of the natives were eating standing up while other simply got their food and walked away. Once seated the old man looked to them both, nothing Reinhart he scribbled something in a small notepad then looked to Disa.

"And for you miss?"

The old man said.

Looking to the old man he nodded, then he turned his back on them and began making their meals.

"Hope you trust my taste in food, it's nothing like Jessica's."

Shortly after the old man's son brought cups to them and poured Reinhart a bit of Sake, then did the same to Disa. Setting the bottle down he also placed a cup of water infront of them then he moved away to help other customer's.

Gareth: It figures...I get ********' prepared, and everything leaves me alone now. Dammit.

Checking the address once more, he looks up at the plain brownstone building before him...not as fancy as other law offices he'd seen before, but not too shabby either, and considering the pitched battles being waged throughout the city, it was still in pretty good shape. Taking a deep breath, Gareth mounts the weathered steps and pushes open the door, not even bothering to notice the names carefully lettered across a brass plaque at eye level. The interior of the lobby was tastefully minimalistic: the hardwood secretary's desk and the very nice couch and chairs were the only true sign of affluence in the room. Behind the aforementioned desk there sat one of those cheerfully helpful guys who usually ended up as secretaries...Gareth attempts to keep from gagging as the friendly greeting reaches his ears.

Secretary: "Good afternoon, sir! Do you have an appointment, or are you looking to make one?"
Gareth: "I've got an appointment...sorta. I just got this."

He brandishes the letter under the nose of the secretary, who, unfazed, takes the letter and scrutinizes it with a thoughtful frown that makes Gareth want to punch him in the face.

Secretary: "Ah, Mr. Mordant! Ms. Ewing is in charge of the dispensing of the properties mentioned in..."
Gareth: "Look, cut the crap. Where's her office?"
Secretary: "It's down that hall--"

Without a backward glance, Gareth snatches the letter from the hand of the secretary and storms through the indicated door and down the hallway behind it. Meanwhile, with a sigh of relief, the secretary presses an intercom buzzer.

Secretary: "Ms. Ewing...you have a Gareth R. Mordant coming to your office about his parents' will...and he's a rager."
Ms. Ewing: "Seeing his background, I expected as much. Thank you though, Harold."

Moments after she releases her finger from the intercom button, three hard knocks thud against the surface of her office door.

Ms. Ewing: "You may come in, Mr. Mordant."

The door flies open and an irate Gareth strides in. Ms. Ewing proffers her hand for a professional handshake...which Gareth totally ignores as he plops into the chair across from her. This blatant disregard for basic politeness earns him a frosty glare from Ms. Ewing, which he matches with a smouldering glare of his own. Gareth breaks the silence first, keeping his eyes locked on the attorney before him.

Gareth: "It's Gareth. I ain't my father."
Ms. Ewing: "Since you refuse to follow business etiquette, you might as well call me Jayne while we're at it."
Gareth: "Well, Jayne, what hoops do I have to jump through t' get this over with?"
Jayne: "If you want, I could just keep the items in question..."
Gareth: "If it gets me out of here quicker, sure."

Jayne stares at the insolent youth before her. She had expected him, as a young man who apparently had been living on the streets for the past six years, to leap on an opportunity to gain some property and money...yet he openly admitted that he'd rather not have it as long as he could leave. Odd.

Jayne: "Mr. Mor--Gareth, you do realize what you're receiving, correct?"
Gareth: "Yeah...what my parents left behind."
Jayne: "More specifically, a house which has had its mortgage paid off, a small portfolio of stocks that have made a small earning, and a decent-sized sum of--"
Gareth: "Look, I know this is your job, but I don't want to deal with this s**t any longer than I have to, okay?!"

Normally, at this point, Jayne would have had an arrogant client such as Gareth thrown out...literally. But there is something in his voice that gives her pause, compounded with his admission that he wanted it over quickly. Being an attorney had given her experience at reading tone...and there was a supressed emotion buried in that anger and arrogance. Now to see if she could unearth it.

Jayne: "Fine. I need you to read this agreement, check in the appropriate boxes, and sign here."

She indicates a line on a sheet of paper, which is snatched out of her hand before she realizes that it is gone. A few seconds later, the sheet is returned with all the appropriate boxes checked and an untidy scrawl across the signature line.

Jayne: "Now, I need verification of your iden--"

Before she can finish, Gareth hands her a folded-up birth certificate with a beat-up Social Security card nestled within its folds and a driver's license with a younger version of him scowling out from its surface. After a cursory examination and a check through government files for verification, she hands him a manilla folder which seems thicker near the bottom.

Jayne: "This folder contains the deed and keys to your house, the stock certificates of your holdings, and the number and access code of your bank account."
Gareth: "Is that it?"
Jayne: "Yes..."

Gareth gets up to leave as Jayne inserts the end of her statement, which makes him pause mid-motion.

Jayne: "...unless there's anything else you want to ask me."

He turns and scrutinizes her, his eyes meeting hers again, but with less aggression this time around. Jayne remains neutral in expression, while mentally she leans forward to see what this fellow had to say.

Gareth: "How long did my parents come to you for law-type stuff?"
Jayne: "Not very long. One of the partners left the firm a few years ago, and their will was one of the things put under my watch."
Gareth: "Oh."

Jayne almost pities the sudden deflation of Gareth. It's as though someone had taken all the air out of his sails to leave him adrift. He turns to leave, then faces her again, as though he remembered something.

Gareth: "You got all their legal stuff?"
Jayne: "Yes..."
Gareth: "Including the legal stuff for putting me up for adoption?"

Hope, covered over with disdain, had crept back into his voice.

Jayne: Ah. So that's what this is all about. "Yes."
Gareth: "Did they give any reason for getting rid of me?"
Jayne: "That does not have anything to do with the business at present, so I cannot answer, Mr. Mordant."
Gareth: "Gareth."

She waves her hand dismissively.

Jayne: "The point is, I am not at liberty to reveal that information."

Gareth leans forward again, and his eyes have slowly begun to rekindle with the fires from before.

Gareth: "So you're telling me you're defending the client confidentiality of dead people?"
Jayne: "Yes. Our business is over, Mr. Mordant. You may leave now."

With a furious exhalation at being dismissed in such a neat and unarguable fashion, he throws open the door and storms back up the hallway. While shaking her head, she presses the intercom button again.

Jayne: "Harold? Mr. Sunshine is coming."
Harold: "Thank you, Ms. Ewing."

She keeps the intercom button pressed despite the fact that she's finished her piece. Harold is a cheery person, and always tries to be pleasant...and she wants to hear what happens when he tries to be cheerful to the raging storm of pent-up emotions that approaches him. And over the intercom she hears:

Harold: "Have a pleasant day, Mr. Mordant!"
Gareth: "You know what, Smiley? You can take your happy demeanor and blow it out your a**, you mindless hyper-emotional corporate zombie b*****d."

The sound of indignantly stuttered words and the slamming of the main door announces Gareth's exit. With a barely suppressed chuckle, Jayne releases the intercom button and returns to researching her most recent case...

And with that her force would converge upon the R.I. building, though keeping alert. Red would lead the way, hoping the immediate danger had been quashed and the trip home was on the horizon. She wasn't as fond of being dirty, wet, and cold as she used to be.

The strange phoenix that she thought of as a harpy was on her mind, confusing her as too its true motive and intent. That would be clearer later, perhaps.

Converge on the R.I. office building.

Eripse sighed, and knew, somewhere in her vast, ever-growing, ageless knowledge that she too would be wanted for some sort of debriefing. Evan, or whoever, who had sent her out and left her, would be wanting to hear. Or maybe not. He had just kind of dropped her.

Then the Red lady. Such confusion, from nothing. Harpy, Pain, Mixed... They had had the same agenda, truly, and she had merely shoved away her assistance, when she had come on the scene late. True, she hadn't exactly been sabotaging anything... Feh. Feh. Feh.

With a sigh she would rise in her nude glory, letting the rain wash over her body, murky drops turning clear as glass as soon as they had hit her body. Indeed, most others would find it disgusting. Yet she was eternally warm, and a presence of purification, life, et cetera, et cetera. She found pleasure in the murkiest, dankest, darkest things, for she brought life and beauty to all of it.

Raising that hand, that had shifted involuntarily earlier, she slopped her hair back, wrung it out, and tied it in a loose, but makeshift knot. With that, and no longer bothering to scrounge clothes from corpses, she followed Red and the team, like some layabout.

Taking a sip of his Sake he turned in his chair to face Disa resting his elbow on the edge of the counter.

"The usual I suppose." Killing monstrosities that used to be Orcs.

Pulling out his pack of cigarettes from his jacket he lit one more while he waited for the food. No need to ask Disa what she was up to lately she'd made it pretty obvious earlier. He would however say....

"What's it feel like?"

"Heh."

If there was something Reinhart liked about Disa it was the fact that she still had a conscience. It was something rarely found in people these days, he'd lost his long long ago, he'd even killed a close friend once. Excusing it as marcy as much as he wanted it didn't change the fact that her blood stained his hands.

"Blood's something that can't be washed off easily Disa and unfortunately, killing's something that gets easier the more you do it. It'll eat at a quality you posess that I admire about you."

Another sip of his Sake and a drag of his cigarette.

"You won't be the Disa I know then."

Food was served in front of them when he finished speaking, the old man smiled at them both. A bowl of rice, a plate with grilled fish, chicken, and beef on a seperate plate, and vegetables in another. Reinhart turned to his food flicking the cigarette into the distance before doing so.