Welcome to Gaia! ::

The resident of the loft jerked awake. Blearily, she looked around and finally stared at the clock. "Huh," she slurred, tapping her fingers on the table. It was just after four in the afternoon- "Four in the afternoon!" Kyrie was up in the next second, straightening her jeans and layered shirts (a pink t-shirt under an aqua tank top, bright and childish colors that she really liked) and then her strict bob cut before dashing to the door and throwing it open.

She stared at the woman. "Uh, Sam, right," she said, fiddling with the keychains dangling from her jeans. "You're the one with the dagger. That Mr. Fauste recommended." (Sometimes he sent people her way for a reduction in the fees for the materials she provided.) "You wanted me to assess it?"

Kyrie Cross was very young for a resourcer, but she was good at what she did. Apparently being midway through her senior year of high school didn't upset her working hours at all; from what the casual observer could tell, she wasn't even much concerned with graduation yet. "Come in. Do you like tea?" She stepped back from the door and over to a small kitchenette area where hot water had been bubbling for a good while. The water got poured into a crystal teapot, and a small metal ball (probably full of tea leaves and herbs) joined it.

Rather innocently, she stared at Sam again. "Or would you prefer something stronger?"

"Um, no problem," said Kyrie, quite uncertain as to what to say. No matter how many times she met a new customer, it never really got old. Each time was like the first time, which did get old, because she didn't like having butterflies in her tummy. "You can sit, i guess..." She sat in one of the dainty white chairs and stared at the darkening water in the tea pot.

She shrugged. "I have a brother, somewhere. My dad and his boyfriend live in Barton. Mr. Fauste keeps this place for me, because he likes to have me close," she explained, having no clue what that would sound like to an older person. "I would be in Durem anyway, but he didn't want my teachers at the dorms to think anything bad about me." With a pout, she continued, "I don't know why they would think bad things about me having a job, usually they encourage that sort of thing you know?"

When the tea looked sufficiently dark, she poured two cups full. "It's just black," she said apologetically. Mr. Fauste liked earl gray, but she didn't, so she kept some only for when he came over. "I have sugar, and cream, and milk, and lemon, and cinnamon if you like that sort of stuff, and powdered vanilla, and--"

It looked like she could go on for days with the list, not even thinking about the job.

She stopped listing the additives she kept handy and took the package almost reverently. "When do you want it back?" Curiously, she unwrapped it and looked at the blade; with an agility normally seen in the aged remnants of black societies or carnival sideshows, she flipped the dagger and caught it by the handle. "It has good balance," she mumbled, looking critically at the design of it before putting it back on top of the wrapping and looking at the piece of paper with Sam's translation on it.

"I can have it done by tomorrow evening, if I skip school," she said to herself, thoughtfully.

She picked it up again and looked at the blade from all angles. "Okay," said Kyrie, ignoring the hot flash and her instinctual urge to drop the blade. "I don't think you're crazy."

Hello, she thought. Mr. Creepy Dirk Thing that I have to figure out for my job, how were you made? An image flashed into her mind and this time she almost did drop it. "I don't see any markings I know, but I can have it dated by tomorrow, if you want. I have friends at the university."

"Oh, okay," said Kyrie. Now she had to ask... Steeling herself, she put the dirk down and began to make piles of the wrapping and then the things she needed to keep. "What are you offering for payment, for me doing this?" She always hated this part with a new customer; with Mr. Fauste she could just go the usual and he would usually go yes of course miss cross and it would all be good because he always paid promptly.

Kyrie fought the urge to smile. Yes, this was more than enough, but she wasn't about to say so; Mr. Fauste would yell (or worse, talk reasonably and softly, which she hated so) if she knew she had let someone underpay her again. "That will be good, especially if this is going to be a working arrangement," she said, trying to use her vocabulary. Somehow she didn't think Sam would take her seriously as a resourcer if she said omg yes please!

Rearranging the dirk and the paper again, she said, "I can have these back to you tomorrow or the day after, whenever you have time to pick it up."

She nodded. "Of course. I'll have it to you again tomorrow." With a more confident smile, she stood up to shake Sam's hand. "Kyrie Cross, but you knew that already, didn't you?" It looked like she was getting ready to show her guest out, but there was a large rattling from the outdoors balcony.

The girl hurried outside and came back in holding an armful of what looked like an overweight shag rug with a red ribbon tied around it. "This is my bunny, Ukagi-kun." She smiled and buried her face in its fur. "Isn't he adorable?"