multiversallogs | Feelin' strange 'bout my rider, babe, I'm booked and I got to go

Who: Njoki + YOU + ??? = PROFIT
What: Slice of life stuff, mostly business about town.
Where: Mafaton, Sobek Croix, or in herbal/magic supply shops about town.
When:
Notes:Pick your poison and label your thread:
Option A: Call or come by her apartment. Does your character need some conjure done?
Option B: Njoki has set up an appointment to chat with Hellsing. Does she meet your character while waiting?
Option C: Ki doesn't have her own garden, so she's out and about to restock her supplies.

As much as fixing up Pickman's rotting feet was for her peace of mind (and sense of smell), the repair job also served as a brilliant bit of self-promotion. Word is slowly getting out that there's a rootworker who specializes in the dead, undead, and not entirely living living in Mafaton, up above a consignment store. The door up to the apartment she shares with Pickman has been marked out by a sign in the same style as her business card and a small, metal and glass tube nailed into the lintel.

Should anyone come to visit, phoning first is recommended, but the door is almost always unlocked. The staircase is a narrow, twisting affair leading up into a modestly sized livingroom with walls lined in shelves made from cinderblocks and wooden planks holding little glass bottles of different colours filled with herbs, roots, beads and bones, wooden boxes with paper envelopes and sachets of powers and washes, a whole collection of candles of different weights and sizes, and other objects of her trade. During the day, that the room is sparse, not yet fully lived in is highlighted by the airy open windows framed by blackout curtains, and during the evening the open windows manage to bring in a pleasant breeze.

Upon arriving in Baedal, Njoki was fortunate enough to have brought along her well-stocked hoodoo kit and after the sale of a portion of some of those items and her letter back home, she's now able to afford to go explore the local botanicas, herbalist, and certain dealers of (not quite) ill-repute. In between visits to various shops, she's made an appointment to stop by Hellsing and hear a little bit more about who they are, what they do, and what she can do for them. While their people seemed plenty pleasant at The Apache, she still doesn't trust them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He's lived long enough in Baedel to realise that there is a vast array of customs and appearances, many of which are different from Middle Earth. If they had met when he first came here, he probably would have stared a little too-long at Njoki's scarification and masculine appearance. Fortunately he's learnt to get over that.

"In that case, I was going to get a cup of coffee from the kitchen, if you'd like something while you wait?"

"I'd love a cup, thanks." If he had stared a bit, she wouldn't have been offended. Njoki knows that her appearance is not the norm for most woman and she's comfortable with that.

"But, if we've got to to wandering, to wherever the kitchen is, I oughta leave word with the desk here."

"Don't worry, I can fetch it. I need to pick something up from another room as I go. How do you take it?" She is, after all, the guest, and he comes from a culture where hospitality is imperative.

"With a bit of sugar, if it's no trouble." Njoki generally drinks her coffee black, but knows that if there's a risk of truly terrible coffee it's wise to doctor it just a little.

A wise choice. He pops off for about ten minutes or so, and very luckily someone already has a pot going, so it won't taste completely terrible. Not gourmet either, but drinkable.

When he comes back, it's with two mugs and a folder tucked under one arm. "Here we are," and one is placed on the table (you know, that table, the one where the magazines are).

"Thanks," she says, nodding as she picks up the cup and takes a sip. Not bad, not bad. "So, mind if I ask what a 'senior field agent' does?"

"No, not at all." He perches on the edge of a chair, holding his mug with both hands. It's a welcome diversion from a million little finicky things. "Essentially, what it means is I report straight to the Department Heads -Sir Integra, Princess Nuala and Alucard. Sometimes I'm given direct orders, but it also means I'm trusted to use my own initiative when a situation arises. For example, if there was another attack on the city like the last one, I could be responsible for over-seeing civilian evacuations to a Temple. I probably would be given orders to do so, or something similar, but if I was there when things started to get dire, I might take action before being formally asked."

"In either case, it can mean I head a team or work by myself. I work in the tactical division, which is where I'm best suited. I have always been, and I suspect I always will be, a soldier, regardless of the rank on offer."

Njoki nods and seems pleased by his answer. It's neat, concise, and does a good job of describing what he does and doesn't do, and makes it clear that she doesn't need to ask if he likes working for Hellsing.

"That all makes sense. Yeah."

Feelin' strange 'bout my rider, babe, I'm booked and I got to go

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