Appointments Made

Appointments Made
Date of Scene:	13 January 2013
Location:	Traverse Town - District 1
Synopsis:	Mercade is followed by a strange person, who turns out to be there to give Mercade an invitation. What could the Mysterious Rosemarie and the spooky Dameon want with the TDA?
Cast of Characters:	Mercade Alexander, Dameon

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Mercade Alexander has posed:
It's time to get things set up for the new place. To do that, he needs... supplies.

Thankfully, there's a fully stocked shopping district nearby! Mercade walks through the area, holding a couple bags of stuff as he leaves the Nephew's Shop, and looks around for the next place he needs to shop. There's so many places out there he could go. Hell, there's a new place over there across the street, but well... He doesn't need enchantments or happily-ever-afters right now. Mercade turns away, preparing to head down the street.

Dameon has posed:
A young man, with scraggly salt-and-pepper (???) hair, hangs upside down from a nearby market stand nearby where Mercade is walking. After he walks by, the young man starts for a second, and rolls off the market stand. He lands lithely on his feet and he begins to follow Mercade.

He's not being very stealthy.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade isn't too bad at telling he's being followed under normal circumstances. He's a detective, after all.

This is just kind of silly.

Mercade turns the corner, ducking out of sight into a blind alley, taking the opportunity to drop his bags next to a dumpster, making it appear that he's hiding in it.

Mercade himself uses the dumpster to pull himself onto the roof of a building to see what this guy does.

Dameon has posed:
Strangely, when Mercade turns to look ... the boy is no longer there!

"Hi!" A voice starts behind him. "Are you Mr. Alexander?"

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"WAAAAAAAAGH!" Mercade yells, suddenly pitching over the side of the roof and landing in the dumpster with a crash.

A groan echoes up from inside. "Uuuuuuuuuugh."

It takes him a little bit, but he pulls himself out, dusting himself off and removing trash as he looks over at the strange boy. "Yeah. I'm Mercade Alexander. Who are you?"

Dameon has posed:
Dameon starts to laugh uncontrollably, like he just saw the funniest thing in the world, when Mercade gets startled and flies off the edge of the building. His bone charms and fetishes all jangle as he rushes to the edge of the building to see what happened to the poor Mr. Alexander!

He perches his chin on his hands as he rests on the edge of the roof. He winces when Mercade hits the dumpster. He rubs his face, and then, when he notices that he didn't accidentally kill Mercade, he vaults off the side of the building, and lands in front of Mercade.

Dameon extends his hand, grinning, "Hi! Nice to meet you. The name is Dameon. I've been trying to find you for a bit."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade looks over the guy, blinking as he considers the oustretched hand for a moment, and he takes it, nodding. "All right." He says, "Nice to meet you Dameon. You found me." He straightens up. and picks his bags up. "Well then, you just found me. What can I do for you?"

Dameon has posed:
Dameon shakes Mercade's hand, and then seems to watch him when he goes to pick up his bags. He bites his lower lip faintly, and then gets a pensive look on his face.

"Has anyone ever asked you if you dance, Mr. Alexander?" Dameon asks, completely out of the blue. "If not, I think you should try it sometime!" Dameon nods, while smiling, all of his bone charms rattling and clanking with the movement. When Mercade asks about what he can do for Dameon, the young man lifts a finger, and digs into a hidden pocket in his outfit. He pulls out a sealed letter.

"Sage Rosemarie has a business proposition for you, but the details are in the letter. She'd like to have you over for dinner!" Dameon explains as he hands over the letter.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"I do on occasion." Mercade purses his lips, his expression a little confused and concerned as he looks over the man. "You're full of surprises, huh. You work at the new store in town?" Mercade asks. He takes the letter and opens it, looking it over with an arched eyebrow. "So what do you do?"

Dameon has posed:
Mercade's response about dancing makes Dameon's eyes light up like starbursts. He almost completely forgets about the letter, "Ooh!?" His voice goes up an octave, "Oh, then, you must, you must, you must join in on my next dance number! You'd be perfect for it! I have just the part.. lone gunslinger, out on a mission..." Dameon spreads his hands, "Meets a damsel ... who is not so much in distress, but oooh.. ooh ooh this is so exciting." Dameon rambles a bit longer, but the letter opens with a snap of the wax:

"To Mr. Alexander. Having heard of your firm I would like to express an interest in speaking with you about mutual business arrangements, particularly providing your team with some work to find 'items of interest' for me to sell, and perhaps we can work a deal which I provide treats for you, for doing these things for me. Provided you are willing, please stop by the enclosed address so that we may discuss this more formally over a meal. Yours truly, Madame Rosemarie."

Dameon then snaps out of his rambling when Mercade asks his two questions. "Oh. Yeah, I, well. I don't work there selling stuff, but I help Mama Rose out with things. A little bit of this, a little bit of that." He seems to think a moment. "Oh, I know a good description. I run errands for her."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade looks back up from the letter, blinking at Dameon. There's never a dull moment, it seems, with this one. "You do your own productions, too? That's pretty cool. So what's with the getup?" He gestures at the fetishes. "Isn't that going to sort of detract from the theme of your next production?"

He looks back down at the letter, nods, and folds it, putting it away into his coat. "Let her know I'll stop by for a chat." He rubs his chin. "So what exactly does she sell? I mean, what she's offering is kind of... ephemeral, if you know what I mean? I'm not sure what's going on with that advertisement."

Dameon has posed:
Dameon is now spinning on the ball of his foot when Mercade looks back up. It seems it is incredibly difficult for this young man to stay still for very long. "Yeah --" He spins away and then back, "-- been doing them since I was --" Spin spin. "-- a little kid. It's really --" Spin. "-- fun!"

Dameon stops spinning a blinks a few times, and then grins at Mercade, his eyes twinkling, "Getup?" He looks down at the fetishes and bone charms, "Oh, these. Well. They're little knick knacks and doo-dads that I've picked up over the years. Have you ever heard of the Dancing Dead Troupe? That's the troupe I lead before I got my new job with Mama Rose."

Dameon seems to think about his answer to Mercade's question, "Well. She sells all sorts of things. Any magical item you could think of, provided it isn't like some super rare artifact, she probably has. She also brews a lot of different potions that give certain enchantments. She also can, in a limited fashion, amplify someone's power to do certain things, permanently, but that's really, really expensive."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade grins. "You look like you're pretty talented! I'm glad you're doing what you enjoy, though." Mercade folds his arms, nodding. He shakes his head though at the question. "No, I never heard of them. Where did you guys perform? What kind of music do you do?"

At the comment about Rosemarie's business, Mercade nods. "I see... I'm not really up on magical items. That's much more Isaac's thing. Maybe I'll bring him with me, if that's all right?"

Dameon has posed:
Dameon tilts his head quietly, and seems to get a far-off look in his eyes, "My father mostly made all of his money off my routine. He stopped playing music once I started really getting into my dance." Then, Dameon grins wickedly, "But see, Mama Rose helped me out, not once, but twice, and here I am. I don't have to worry about pleasing dad anymore." Dameon pauses and then spreads his fingers, "Oh, I do a lot of fast numbers. My dance partners really need a lot of help from me, to keep up, but I don't mean to toot my own horn, as it were."

The Dancer raises his eyebrows, "You know, Mama Rose loves it when there are more guests to feed for dinner! Bring as many of your friends as you want!"

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Wow, you're really gifted then." Mercade says, considering Daemon carefully. "I admit, your story makes me curious about a lot of things." He tilts his head, tapping the side of it for a moment, but he shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "But we can talk more about that later." He snaps a hand, and produces a card, offering it to Dameon. "The Twilight Detective Agency will help you out, if you need it, of course. Goodness knows, there's a lot of things going on these days, right?"

He nods. "Anyway, like I said, I'll bring some of the TDA over and we'll talk business. I'm sure everything will turn out great."

Why does he have a bad feeling about this?

Dameon has posed:
Dameon bows, and then sits up grinning at Mercade. His eyes twinkle, "Oh, my story has a few twists, tangos, and pirouettes. I'll tell you it, someday. But, today.." Dameon extends his hand and takes the card, "...is not that day." His eyes glimpse at the card, and he quickly pockets it.

"Oh yeah. It'll go real great. I think we'll work very well together. If nothing else, please stop by whenever you are ready. Mama is /always/ prepared to have guests! Especially handsome ones!" Dameon winks at Mercade, and then seems distracted looking over the gunslinger's shoulder suddenly.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Sure, no problem." He blinks, and then he can't resist. He looks over his shoulder, wondering what Dameon is looking at.

Dameon has posed:
There is nothing. Except maybe a cat, which quickly skitters away.

When Mercade looks back, Dameon is no longer there.

His bone charms did not even jingle.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Damn. Ninja voodoo dancer." Mercade shivers.

"This is going to be... Definately interesting."