May 06 18:09:48 107 PA-Alibi Investigation

From Chronicles

May 06 18:09:48 107 PA

The moderate day brings a moderate night, and the temperate weather brings out the crowds. The club is humming, packed with

crowds, dancers, talkers and drinkers. Aimee's evening set is over and she is standing beside the bar, handing the headset

she uses over to the barstaff for safe keeping. In return, she is handed a glass of wine, a tall stemmed glass with

condensation on the outside. She takes her usual seat at the end of the bar, watching the crowds with a slight smile, her

green eyes moving across them.

Jackson enters the bar and he is a vastly different person than he was when he was here yesterday. He's talking tall, no

shuffle to his movements, and although he doesn't appear overly graceful, it's a 1000percent improvement over the half dead

cripple he was a day or two ago. He checks in the small antique looking pistol he carries with the bouncers and tucks the tab into a pocket. With that he heads for the bar, his bright green gaze flicking over Aimee, then over the waitresses milling

throughout the crowd, then back to the bartender. "Excuse me. Do you know a girl named Aimee? I'm told she can be found

here."

The barstaff leans forward, lifting a hand to indicate the woman at the end of the bar. "She owns the place, her and her

fiance." She is noticeable if nothing else, Aimee, with the careful makeup and the red lace dress, even if she didn't own the

place. But her company tends to be the regulars, and right at this moment, she is speaking to a man with a flash of gang

colours on his clothing. Her face still holds that smile, but now it resembles the smile of a cat watching a mouse. She

speaks softly, touching him lightly on his sleeve before he turns to leave, and she watches him leave, her green eyes

narrowing slightly.

Jackson nods, turning his gaze back to the woman who caught his eye the first time. The ghost of a smile creeps onto his face

and he nods. "Thank you." He tells the bartender and he watches Aimee for a long moment, watching her watch the man leave.

Once he is away from he he leaves his spot and comes up next to her. "Aimee?" He asks, smiling warmly.

Aimee turns her head slowly, her eyes narrowed, the green eyes hard before she smiles, charm appearing easily as she studies

him. "I do not believe we have met but oui, I am Aimee." She extends a hand, giving him a warm smile, one eyebrow arching

slightly. Her hand is cool to the touch, her fingers slim, and she tilts her head slightly, questioningly.

Jackson takes her hand gently, but he doesn't shake it, instead turning in knuckles up and he kisses her knuckles gently,

just a grazing of his lips to her delicate fingers. "A pleasure to meet you Aimee. My name is William. But call me Jackson,

everyone else does." He tells her, releasing her fingers as he speaks. "I was told that you have need of information. I

thought perhaps I can help you." He says easily, leaning against the counter.

Aimee withdraws her hand, showing no startlement at the gesture, merely a slight focus of her interest on his face. "I am

always in need of information. Which particular piece do you hold, monsieur William Jackson?" Her accent does reveal her

mother tongue, the odd lilt to her words and the easy use of the French words making it obvious. "Oui, I need information, my

business lives by the little pieces people drop." A light one shoulder shrug, and she watches him.

Jackson smiles, but slips into the 'all business' mindset his merc background taught him. "According to what I was told, you

are looking for information concerning a girl who was involved in a fight in your establishment, or just outside it. My

source was less than clear." He tells you, glancing around your bar. "As for any other information, I'd be happy to help."

"The girl that was involved in the fight, oui. The girl who killed a man outside my club. Yes, I do wish to find her." Aimee

tilts her head, watching him thoughtfully, her fingers turning the glass around between them, a light movement. "Do you have

her name?" The question is soft, Aimee's smile widening, a slightly feline edge to her movements for an instant.

Jackson pauses a moment, seeing your grin widen, but he shakes his head. "No.. I don't know the first thing about her, but I

can help you find out her name, what she looks like and where she lives. I only require access to the victim, perhaps the

weapon she used if available.. and a few pieces of sketch paper."

"Then I cannot help you." Aimee shrugs, the gesture graceful as she releases her glass, tapping her nails lightly against the

bar. "I have no access to the corpse, nor the weapon. I merely want the information." The feline smile widens slightly and

she tilts her head. "One must have a commodity or means to get it before you try and sell it, ma petite."

Jackson smiles, "Who said anything about selling it? This is more of a service to get my services known, and perhaps set the

stage for money in the future. Do you perhaps have anything she touched or handled? Any blood she left behind, fights can be

messy."

"Non, I have nothing." Aimee shrugs lightly, reaching for her glass. She takes a slow sip, tilting her head as she lowers the

glass. She runs a fingertip over the brim of the glass, a light movement. "You see, this fight happened outside of my club,

and if it were inside, I would have her, would I not? Non?"

Jackson nods, but his face twists slightly into thoughtful look. "If it happened outside your club, then why concern yourself

with it. Once they leave your property they are no longer your concern, right?" He asks gently. "But assuming she harmed and

killed someone of importance to you, you would have something of value from them, something she perhaps had in her possession

if only for a moment."

"Why I wish to find her is my business, and ma petite, it is not wise to meddle in my reasons nor my business." The words are

a soft, gentle purr, her eyes narrowing on his face. "Oui? People, they can have terrible accidents in this city." She takes

another sip, watching him over the rim of the glass, the green eyes steady, harder than they were.

Jackson smiles, seeing the change in tone and the tightening of her gaze. "I see. Forgive the 'meddling' as it were, my main

goal is to help you with this little tidbit of information, so we can arrange some method of payment the next time you

require information and I can provide it." He tells her softly, glancing around the club, to see who is present and where

thier attentions lie.

The moderate day brings a moderate night, and the temperate weather brings out the crowds. The club is humming, packed with

crowds, dancers, talkers and drinkers. Aimee's evening set is over and she is sitting at the end of the bar, enjoying a glass

of wine and a discussion with a man, a stranger. "Bring me the information and I will pay you an amount for it." Aimee shrugs

lightly, "Why I need it... that is a different matter, oui?" Her voice is a low, throaty purr, familiar to Desmond, a smile

on her lips . Desmond enters the Alibi quietly. The large being pausing only briefly at the check. Though he is not armored, he is armed

and the brief discussion he holds with the men at the door ends with an approving nod and him entering still armed. He is not

in a hurry, this male. His long stride languid, as is the smooth shift of his eyes, swivel of his ears. His attention is

'everywhere', though methodically so. Passing patrons considered, oddities in the smooth chaos of the din marked by flicks of

his ears. Nothing that troubles him as all are passed as he makes his way towards the bar. Precisely the area Aimee is in,

actually. Even though he has yet to study the bar itself.

Jackson is standing just a foot or two from Aimee, leaning very slightly on the bar. " I understand. As soon as I have the

information, you will have it in the next breathe. I trust you can be found here most of the time? I'd not want to innterrupt

your own personal time for business matters." He says easily and with a smile. "I'll get on it right away."

"I am rarely away from here. If I am, a message at the bar will find me." She turns her head, her gaze finding and following

Desmond, her face softening slightly. A smile that is entirely different crosses her lips, her eyes warming. And then she

turns her head, her gaze back to the man with her. "Oui, if you bring it, I will pay for it. Five hundred credits." She names

the price, her tone suggesting it is not open to negotiation.

Desmond is near enough when Aimee speaks of 500 credits that an ear swivels her way. Then his head turns and his study of the

entirety of the room ends for now. His eyes rest on Aimee, then shift towards the man who is within her sphere of

conversation. The study is brief and nothing seems to tug at him as his eyes return to Aimee. There is subtle question within

them, but when he speaks in his deep, rumbling voice there is none. "Good evening, My Aimee." He will move past Jackson the

few steps required to pause beside the woman before a turn settles him at her side.

Jackson see's the look over his shoulder, but ignores it. "Five hundred and being kept in mind for future needs." He

counters, and smiles at the woman, though it's professional still. "One more thing before I leave you to your drink. May I

know the name of the victim?" He asks gently, as Desmond steps past him, his eyes widening at the sight of the feline, but

only a little. Must be proffessional.

"Five hundred and I will not dismiss you as a possible next time I need something." No promises but her counter is firm. "He

was a man by the name of Zyvis." Desmond's arrival is met with a hand outstretched to draw him near to her, and an offer of

her face for a kiss, her smile for Desmond utterly different to the one she graced Jackson with. "Mon chat, this is William

Jackson. He believes he may have information on this girl we wished to speak to."

And Desmond does not seem overly troubled with the run of the talk as Jackson continues. He considers the man again, this

time from the front, but he still seems content. Aimee's touch is allowed without comment, though the shift of her head

upward draws his attention. He does dip, bending low to brush her lips with his. "Good, I have several questions," he rumbles

deeply as his eyes flit back to Jackson. "A man of talent?" The question for Aimee, perhaps. Or placed to him directly. There

is a bit of the ambiguous in his tone, if not the focus of his gaze.

Jackson nods in agreement, as for his purposes the deal is the same. He ignores the kiss, as seeing a woman kiss a massive

cat-man is not the strangeest thing he's seen. However he shifts his gaze to Desmond at the question, unsure of whether it

was directed to him for not but he nods. "Several." He answers simply, and reaches into the suit of rags he wears and pulls

out a small pad of synthetic paper and a pen. "Have you seen this.. Zyvis person before here? Or noticed anything strange

between him and his killer before the fight? I ask because the more I know about their relationship, such as if one even

existed outside of bad tempers and rash actions, the easier I can find her for you."

"The proof of the pudding, mon chat." Aimee's tone is slightly cynical, her light comment given with a slight curve to her

lips. She leaves her hand touching Desmond, her touch casual, as she smiles at the man. "I know nothing of Zyvis, merely that

he is dead and I wish to know who killed him, and her name." Aimee shakes her head quickly, giving Jackson a quick smile, her

eyebrows lifting. "I merely wish to know this."

Aimee nods briefly, leaving the two of them to talk, her gaze flickering across the bar. Her face remains pleasant, that

slight, feline smile on her lips. Her fingers turn the glass lightly around between her fingers, absently. "I will be

interested to find out what you discover." She lifts one eyebrow slightly, turning her gaze back to them.

"The jackals do not waste time," Desmond comments with the same steady tone he's used since his arrival. "Anything you could

find is likely at the bazaar by now." There is a pause, then he dips his head once, looking towards Aimee. "Has there been

any disruption this evening?" Even if he does ask the men, he rarely goes without double checking with her. And his ears are

rarely still, flicking toward sounds even when his attention is elsewhere.

Jackson chuckles, "Well always good to know one mans death serves to better his neighbors life." He says, and writes

something else in the pad, then closes it and tucks it away along with the pen. "Allright I think I've gotten as much as I

can here, I'll do some checking and when I have what you want I'll be back." He says and nods in farewell, leaning off the

counter and turning to leave.

Aimee shakes her head quickly, giving Desmond a quick, warm smile. "Non, it is peaceful." Her eyes warm with her smile for

him before she turns to give Jackson his departing attention. "I look forward to hearing from you." Her voice is that low

purr once more and she sips the wine, turning her attention to Desmond.

Desmond merely nods to Jackson's words before he turns his attention back to Aimee. "Good. I am glad they remain accurate."

His near arm moves around her and he rumbles, "All has been delivered securely. They are content." HIs words pitched lower,

but his voice is not made for subtle and silent. That's where the vague comes in. "Do you have plans for the woman?"

Jackson mentally turns his hearing elsewhere and he walks away, not wanting to be privy to the plans the couple has for the

woman once she is found. He's just the means to finding her, he wants nothing to do with her punishment. Not unless they pay

him to be. He slips through the crowd, and is gone in a few moments, pausing only to collect his weapon, then he is gone.