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"Well there's a theory you could ponder for the rest of your immortal life," she joked, smiling as she began to close and pick up the number of indexes she'd pulled out during her research. "I suppose that you're right about faery roles, but that's a conversation for another time. In the meantime, I'll prepare a place for this sidhe for when you get him back to the Bureau so he won't escape too easily. I'll need your help for the final touches on that, Marduk."

"Oh, stop," she said to the fae now fluttering over her glass-topped desk. The brunette blushed at the compliment, her fair skin pinking over the bridge of her nose. She waved his words away with a seemingly careless wave of her hand. Her cell phone was still to her ear, and she heard the sound of a gun shot not seconds after Marduk appeared in her office.

"Marc?" she asked, concerned for his safety now that Marduk wasn't with him. "Marc? Was that gunfire?"

Marc had to stifle a small scream as Marduk teleported off his shoulder. He hated--

The time was right for a real scream, as two gunshots rang out. He hit the deck, arms over his head, thanking anything he could think of at that moment that the shots had been blind.

"Marc?" Charlie's voice came over the phone, which was currently lying discarded on the pavement. "Marc?" He looked up, scanning for the attacker. There- what? A woman, and someone behind her, talking to her? He flicked his hair back out of his face, and slowly reached for the phone.

He caught the end of Charlie's query: "Was that gunfire?"

"Yes. It's alright. It will be alright. Red's here, too. Someone's dealing with the woman."

He left Morgan in charge of the captive fae -- not that he was about to be doing anything spectacular -- and stepped forward, out of the range of the glamour.

Izzy sat at his desk at the BSPA as usual. His desk was almost sparkling, not one "post it" note was out of place and all pens and pencils were held in a small aluminum case, organised by length, color and sharpness.

A small stack of files lay before the young man. Files containing case reports from various assignments. Izzy's hazel eyes traversed over each line, taking in each detail. One such file was labled "Sleepy Hollow phantasm[closed by Daniel Shaw]", another was entitled "Edinburg full moon massacre[closed by Marcus Deheart]", but the one that Izzy was reading so intently was entitled "New england casting violations [open since 2007 jan. 5th]."

Izzy scratched the small patch of facial hair just below his lower lip in deep thought. He read silently to himself the first couple paragraphs:
" Fairpoint New England, Several cases of unexplained deaths have been linked to the possiblility of one or more wiches, possibly a small coven. One such fatality was death by high fever of 145 degrees, highly unnatural in the medical world. Autopsy showed that the victim had a small cut on their index finger possibly caused by a scalpel due to it's precise and easily created incision...."

"Hmmm.." Izzy mumbled to himself.
"A blood boiling curse...popular with voodoo and black arts."

He ran his hand through his dark brown hair. He replaced the other files into his cabbinet into chronological order as usual.
He tucked the file under his arm, straightened his tie and began to search for someone to help him invesigate this incident.

He feigned a hurt look at his designated official nickname of... years. Even this didn’t last long, however, as his grin was quickly slapped back in place.

“Ahh, the usual, drinking, smoking, fooling around...” he threw a wink at the young lady he had just ‘greeted’, “...meeting up with pretty ladies...”

His grin remained intact, but his expression sobered up the slightest bit.

“I see that work is still the same for you...”

His voice lost a slight bit of its cheeriness as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it without the aid of a lighter, his eyes never straying from Marc’s face.

“...how’s it going for you?” he asked, a hint of a murky something laying deep beneath the usual cheer not uncharacteristic to his voice.

“Don’t I know it,” he smirked, not unkindly, but in its own way bitterly. It was an odd combination when mingled with his usual demeanor.

“One doesn’t know any better when living under so solid and rigid a roof as the bureau’s.”

He had been a classic example of a street rat before he had been taken in by the bureau. As such, Keima didn’t receive any sort of ‘normal’ education; his studies were a priority, yes, but came second to honing every bit of skill and power he possessed. So even though the education he had received was classified as first rate, the fact that he had no degree from any known school hindered his ability to get a job behind a desk. Not that he particularly minded. He still had money left over from his long years working for the bureau; he could last another two years or so from his funds before things got desperate.

“Well, I suppose we all have to eat. Even the social outcasts and anomalies, the ‘special’ chosen few, ne?”

He had departed from the bureau without saying a word to anyone; he just decided to disappear one day, leaving only a single note to appease any worries.

The single event of what she was waiting for happened. She saw what was going on, and she wasn't sure she liked it. She saw a small thing in a cage and a man, only he didn't quite look human. Aileen couldn't really put her finger on it. This probably wasn't the time to be studying anyone. Then another male appeared. Warily she thought, Great, I open fire and find out I'm on some win-a-nonhuman-male-reality-show. It was funny, but the circumstances devoid it of any humor.

A small white ball came towards her and she watched it for awhile, realizing to late what it was. It felt like volts of electricity creeping up her body. Needless to say, despite her control she unwillingly dropped her guns. Then it was gone. Taking a few minutes to calm herself she reached behind her a revealed a gun from the waistband of her jeans.

Then she realized that these two were having a conversation. The fact that they did so irked her. "Alright." She raised her voice a little, "All I want to do is know who you are and know why you're here." She backtracked, "I know it probably my fault for opening fire, but I knew you were here, but I couldn't see you."

Morgana came to an abrupt halt before the trio, peered at the fae with a peaked curiosity, yet shaking her head at Marc as he addressed her.

"It's alright, overly talkative fae aren't exactly my interest." She mused simply, Amadaeus sitting down, ears perked and head cocked to the right as he watched the figure in the iron cage. She waited with patience as Marc went through a conversation with Charlie. In that time, she brought her attention to the disgruntled fae, nodding to Marc's request.

"And no, not that kind of registra---" She could barely finish her sentence before the gunshots rang out and hastily pulled herself flat against the wall with her dog. They ceased, and Marc moved on, obviously something had caught his attention. The woman who had fired the shots was subdued by a man that he spoke with. Satisfied enough with the fact that she or the remaining others around her hadn't been hit by the stray bullets, she returned to her task at hand.

Pulling out her cell, she dialled the BSPA number quickly, hastily requesting the vehicle as she looked about the area, seemingly anxious now. All she had left to do now was wait.