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Briefings

A burly sailor pushes his way through the crowd with a pair of overfilled pints of lager, slams them down on the table in front of Logan and looks at him with glittering amber eyes.

"I've got some more information for you. Interested?"

"I wouldn't bother with such trivial matters as pesant uprisings. I have far more valuable information and I'll share it for a price." The sailor stretches his arms and looks around the room for prying eyes.
"Of course you must be wondering if the information is worth the price so I'll give you this for free; the riot is tomorrow but Le Gambit will have a horrible hangover and won't show up for it." The sailor smiles and waits for a responce.

That was something that a simple sailor wouldn't know, of course, with these trying time, nothing was simple. Point in case, the man standing with little to no to-do across the way. Nothing really visible beneath the layers of green adorning his shoulders and waist, the cloak that hung low hid the longbow lashed across his shoulders. A quiver strapped along his left shoulder, and a smaller version running along his right thigh, Oliver Queen had just made his arrival days ago.

Walking the docks, night rather than day, information was being gathered and reported back to his cohort and lady, the voluptuous Dinah Queen.

With an open ear and eye, Oliver simply awaited the sailor, or rather, the odd man he was conversing with to leave and report to whatever higher power was at play. Bartoc was a bit odd at times, but for the sake of his country, for the sake of France, King James would not live through the next fortnight. Letting his elbows rest upon the oaken structure that was his table, Le Gambit was another matter to deal with, not his at this time, but later on.

"Barkeep. . .what can you tell me about that sailor, the large one."

Logan was about to agree, then stopped. ...Ssssnnniiifff... He stared long and hard at Grimm, before those wolf-like eyes shifted and darted between each and every individual in the tavern. The few locals, the bar tender, the young woman who didn't look old enough to satisfy him... He then brought his eyes back to the sailor and nodded. "Lets take our drinks out side, eh? A little fresh air might be good."

Something didn't feel right to the feral. He just...couldn't feel secure all of a sudden. There was something in the air, and he could smell it. Standing, he made sure his cowl was well over his head still, protecting his identity well enough, before leading Grimm out.

Once on a more stable and secure dock, and away from prying eyes, he continued the converstation.

The news boy looked on curiously at the burly man clad in the heavy trench coat and wearing a thick monocle over a disfigured eye.

"News leaflet for you, sir?"

Nicholas reaches into his right pocket for some change, quietly cursing himself for returning. Even though he was disguised, the doubts continued to torment him. Still, this is the test he needed. His face is well known throughout the country, and if the newspaper boy could not identify the man he has obviously heralded many time before, then he would count himself fortunate. He is not supposed to be here, but he is driven to return by the reports of King James' success on the throne. He mutters to himself while counting the change.

"He couldn't have done any of it without my services.."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just gimmie a leaflet." He demands, lighting a pipe. "Perhaps you can tell me boy, the guard of Sir Stephen Rogers, where might I find them?"

The boy hands him the leaflet gratefully in exchange for the money. He casts one final glance to Nicholas and then gestures down the road.

"They go to the bar four doors down, sir. May I ask why?"

"No, you may not ask why." He replies, dropping to one knee to eyeball the freckle faced lad. "But you can earn yourself some extra money by letting me know when certain people arrive."

"Who, sir?"

"Sir Rogers, Elektra, Beatrice Darkholme, or Logan. I will be staying at the Inn across the street. Do not tell anyone of me. No one at all, but inform me of their arrivals and you shall be rewarded."

He reaches once more into his pocket for three more gold coins and hands them to the boy to seal the deal. The boy grabs them and grins, checking them against his teeth. Nicholas laughs.

"They are real, son!" He ruffles the boy's hair, rising back to his feet. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes, sir!" The boys nods appreciatively, pocketing the coins. "I shall notify you promptly when any of them arrive!"

Letting his left hand come to reside atop the appendage of his wife, Oliver simply nodded to the 'Keep and then to his companion. "It seems you have a few 'friends' watching you. . ." Letting his words fall to a whisper, from the looks of things, the bartender wasn't the only one that had prying eyes turned toward his wife.

"Shall I deal with them, or let things play out dear?"

Noticing the departure of the large sailor and whatever man he was speaking to, they could be found later if the need arose. The pair already had enought information to get into the court of James with little to no opposition.