* It is Saturday, the eighth of May, in the year eighteen eighty-six.  The
luggage room in Tupikov's mansion--or at least, the sitting room where luggage
and jackets are being kept--is quiet and dimly lit.  When Terom slips through
the doorway she finds it empty of servants and guests alike, and has little
trouble in locating a particular piece of luggage she's already tracked this
far.
<Terom> (Question: What's the servant's outfit like?)
( Chocolate brown dress or trousers and a trim jacket with narrow lapels, topped
off with a cute cap of the same brown color.  Blouse or shirt is white. )
* An iron-bound monstrosity of English oak, it's amazing that it only took two
men to bring it this far.  The trunk sits behind a stuffed felt chair, somewhat
out of the way of the other luggage.
* Terom glances around. She's wearing the standard servant's outfit (as the GM
described above), and her hair is pinned back so it won't get in her face during
a hard night's work. No jewelry aside from the most modest earrings.
* Terom checks the luggage over, looking for the opening mechanism.
* The luggage has a flat, simple-looking lock on the face of it; near the
luggage is a wine closet that could hide Terom from casual scrutiny as long as
nobody turns on the gas lamps in the room.
* Terom keeps an ear out and arranges herself so she's as obscured as she can be
while looking the lock over. She reaches up her sleeve and extracts a thin
lockpick, then gets to work.
* Terom works at it for a minute, then her attention jerks up and away from the
chest. She slips the pick away and steps back and around, behind the wine rack,
making herself scarce. A servant steps in and hangs up a jacket, not even
glancing in her direction. He lets out a tired sigh before ridding himself of it
and heading back out.
* Terom peeks around the rack, then goes to picking the lock. After another
minute, it clicks satisfactorily, and she grins to herself, slipping the pick
away. She opens the chest slowly.
* The chest opens without a creak, and reveals a most peculiar cargo: thick,
black candles with wicks of brown and yellow; glass bottles filled with thick,
syrupy red fluid; and tiny dolls made of straw and wax.
* Terom blinks. She picks up one of the candles and looks it over, then does the
same with the fluid and dolls, trying to identify what they'd be used for.
* Terom scowls.
* Terom sets the items back in the case and looks for anything hidden beneath
them.
* Terom smirks. She quickly and deftly lifts a few of the items out of the
chest, then checks under the false shelf.
* Beneath the false bottom is a stack of papers tied up with red and black
twine.  The top sheet of paper appears to be filled with typographed details
like a name, address, and a physical description.
* Terom takes the papers and shoves the false shelf back there, followed by the
items she lifted. It's not as though she can read them as things are.
* The music grows louder outside the luggage room at the precise moment that
Terom returns the items--excepting those papers--to the luggage.
* Terom shuts the chest and closes the lock, then tucks the paper away into her
servant's clothes. She slips on out of the room.
* Terom manages to blend in with the rest of the servant population without
drawing a second glance from anyone, and is able to continue about her business
unmolested.

<Terom> * A serving woman passes by Joan as she heads to the door out.  She's
holding a platter of those yummy appetizers everyone should love so much,
because they're freaking expensive.  "Excuse me, mademoiselle, would you like
one?"
* Joan shakes her head. "No, thank you."
<Terom> * She frowns slightly. "Oh, that's too bad.  You're leaving?"
* Joan nods. "It's a lovely party, but I'm afraid I have a great deal to do. If
you'll excuse me..."
<Terom> * She bows slightly, not letting the platter waver.  "Have a lovely
evening, Mlle. Dark."  And she goes back to serving.
* Joan remains blissfully oblivious.
* Claudia spots Joan leaving, excuses herself, and walks towards the door.
<Terom> * The serving woman spares Claudia a vague glance, but she just walks by
her.
<Claudia> Ah, I see they're hiring directly from the gutter these days.
<Terom> * The serving woman turns her attention to Claudia and smiles. 
Smiiiile.  "Ah, Mlle. Chambelleau.  Interested in a snack?"
* Claudia returns the smile. It's not entirely pleasant. "Oh, no thank you."
* Terom nods. "My pleasure." She goes about her business.
* Claudia walks after the serving woman, still smiling.
* Terom picks up a few more snacks from one of the tables, arranging them
appropriately on her platter. "May I help you?"
<Claudia> I'm just fascinated by your day job. It's so.. glamorous.
<Terom> Oh, no need to flatter me, mademoiselle.  I am but a servant.  I imagine
things are far more glamorous for you, with all of the admirers and dancing and
lounging around all day.
* Claudia spreads her hands. "Well, we all need a little escape now and then, no
matter which rung we cling to."
* Terom smiles pleasantly. "I'm sure you would be good at anything you attempt."
* Claudia nods, leaning down next to Terom and looking down at the table. Her
voice drops slightly. "On a scale of one to ten, Terom, how painful was that?"
* Terom keeps the smile up. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about,
mademoiselle."
<Claudia> Of course not.
* Terom nods. "Well, if you'll excuse me."
<Claudia> Go have fun, now.
* Claudia grins in a very unladylike manner before making her exit.
* Terom keeps up the front until Claudia turns her back. She transforms her look
into a vicious glare for a few seconds, then wipes it away and goes about her
business.

* Darkness covers the city of Paris just before midnight, and except for the
occasional call of gendarmes on patrol the quiet is just as heavy.  Avignon's
home is dark save for a soft electric light in one of the upper windows.  The
estate's gate is closed, however, barring entry to all but the most determined.
* Terom is one of the determined ones! She ditched the servant's outfit and is
now in her usual dress, which is far more colorful than the ninja, but really,
if it's dark, who's gonna know? Besides, she's good at this skulking thing,
which is what she happens to be doing.
* The gypsy has little trouble bypassing the gate--she is, after all,
determined--to get onto the estate and up to the front door of Avignon's home.
* Terom does go to the front door, because why not. She looks at it for a
moment, then glances up at the light on the upper floor.
* The light blurs unevenly, suggesting that somebody or something is between it
and the window.  The blur does not move--or if it does move, it is not doing so
dramatically enough for Terom to spot.
* Terom just shrugs to herself and tries to see if this front door is unlocked.
You wouldn't *think* so, but Avignon is weird sometimes.
* The front door is, weirdly enough, unlocked.  It swings open when Terom tests
it.  Avignon himself stands at the far end of the foyer, beside a small gas lamp
on a low table.  Though he wears a grandfatherly smoking jacket, the shadows
cast by the lamp--resting as it does at about the level of Avignon's
stomach--make his face look a bit disturbing.
* Terom steps in, proving she isn't a Buffyverse vamp. Not that this is the
Buffyverse anyway. She smiles, closing the door behind her. "Good evening."
* Avignon smiles wearily when Terom opens the door.  "Good evening, Terom.  I
was just down for a snack," he lifts a small plate in his left hand to display
what appears to be some sort of culinary work of architecture.  "Sandwich.  If
the English are good for anything, it's making life easier for bachelors.  Come
upstairs for a bit?  I feel a bit the fool down here in the dark."
* Terom nods. "If you like." She glances back. "Perhaps you should lock your
door."
* The Captain nods as well.  "After you leave.  I had a feeling that somebody
would be by tonight."  He turns toward the stairs, and then stops.  "If you
wouldn't mind, mademoiselle, could you bring that lamp up with you as well?"
<Terom> Not at all.
<Avignon> Thank you.
* Terom walks over, her skirts rustling, and picks the lamp up. She gestures for
the captain to go first, since he knows where he's going.
* Avignon climbs the wide, curving staircase to the second floor, and leads the
way to a comfortable study bright with electric lighting.
* The Captain moves toward one soft-looking chair upholstered in some sort of
cloth, and nods toward a sleeker, leather-covered chair.  "Please, have a seat
mademoiselle.  Put the lamp wherever you like."
* Terom steps in and glances around, then sets the lamp on a shelf, hopefully
away from any books. "I'm afraid we might need each other's help," she says as
she does so.
* Fortunately, Terom fails to cause the study to catch fire.  Avignon settles
into his chair and regards Terom with a concerned expression.  "Afraid?  Am I so
unpleasant?  No, don't answer that.  What's the trouble?"
* Terom chuckles. She pulls up her right sleeve. There is a fairly thick stack
of papers strapped around it; maybe this is why she wears such a billowy blouse.
She speaks as she undoes them. "I followed a Blood Pauper to Tupikov's party.
You remember them, I'm sure. He was a driver there, and he seemed to feel a
certain... trunk was extremely important. In it, I found candles with horse
hair, what looked like ox blood, and little dolls."
* Terom finishes. Beneath is a dagger, but this shouldn't surprise Avignon at
all. "As best I can tell, they'd be used for demon summoning. This was in there,
too." She steps over and tosses the stack onto his lap. His name is on top.
* The Captain frowns deeply, setting wrinkles across his otherwise handsome face
as he studies the top page.  His hand moves to the top sheet and peels it back,
and he studies the upper part of the sheet beneath.  Then he flips another page,
and another.  "Mon dieu," he mutters after he has read every name in the stack
of papers.
* Terom straightens her sleeve, having a seat on the leather chair. She smooths
her skirt and looks to Avignon, interested in his reaction. "What does it mean?"
<Avignon> First I must ask whether this was every page that you found.  Nothing
is missing?
* Terom nods. "Every one, to the best of my knowledge."
<Terom> With any luck, it'll take some time for them to realize they're missing. 
The papers were under a false shelf.
<Avignon> I hope that you are right.  The names included here are every
honest... or at least reasonably honest man of wealth in the city.  I would not
go so far as to call them heroes or saints, but they are all decent people.  I
should be more clear.  They are ONLY decent people.  Not a single untrustworthy,
evil, or mean-spirited man or woman features on this list.
* Terom blinks before nodding slowly. "If what you say is true," she says,
sounding just a *little* skeptical, "why would they be the targets?"
* Avignon frowns again and flips through the list a second time.  "Perhaps...
no."  The Captain removes the binding on the papers and reads through them a
third time in silence.  "Perhaps the presence of certain names on this list
blinded me to that of others," he says at last.  "There are a few bad eggs in
here, but they are... simple."
* Terom nods again. This she understands. "How simple?"
<Avignon> They may be shrewd financiers and offer notoriously generous bribes,
but to my knowledge they have not ordered any murders, for example.
<Terom> Oh, I see.  But not all of them.
<Avignon> I would expect Alfonse Legrand to be on this list.  He is the second
wealthiest man in the city, but...  Rumor suggests that he funds a small gang
near his factories.  They've sabotaged his competitors' property and even killed
a foreman who would not leave a targeted warehouse.
<Avignon> And then there's Michel Roux, a war hero of some repute who almost
assuredly made his fortune looting French homes, not Prussian soldiers.
<Avignon> Neither of them appear on this list.  Their absence is troubling.
* Terom frowns slightly. "Perhaps they've already been hit." She pauses. "But I
think your belief that they might be supporting this somehow is more likely. Are
either friends of yours?"
* The Captain shakes his head.  "Legrand and I are on speaking terms, but only
just.  Roux was one of... was probably one of the Bloody Pauper's lieutenants,
though that's never been verified.  We do not speak."
* Terom clucks her tongue. "Roux, huh."
<Avignon> Yes.  There's something else you should know about this list.  You may
have missed it in your own search, because his is not necessarily an uncommon
name.  Claudia Chambelleau's father is on this list.
<Terom> Really.  I'm sure she'd be pleased to know, if you choose to tell her.
* Avignon looks sharply at Terom, but quickly relaxes.  "Agreed."  He ties the
twine around the papers again, though the knot is loose; it is likely the best
he can do with one hand.  "What do you intend to do?"
* Terom grins. "Look into those two you mentioned. Alfonse Legrand and Michel
Roux. I'm sure we'd both like to know if they have anything to do with this."
* The Captain smiles a little.  "I must admit that I am more than a little
curious about that, yes.  I'm also curious about this list.  Did you need it
back for any reason?"
* Terom laughs. "If you want to keep it, go ahead. Think of it as a present,
yeah?"
<Avignon> I'll do that.  In return, I believe I have a gift for you.  If you'll
just bring the book bound in blue and yellow from the shelf behind you, I can
give Legrand's address to you.
* Terom nods. She stands and turns, looking for said book.
* The book is not hard to find.  Every one of the dozens of books in the study
seems to have a different combination of colors on its spine.  When Avignon ran
out of colors to pair, he seems to have taken up putting the colors in
combinations of three.  The result is an odd filing system based on color alone. 
When Terom retrieves the book she immediately notices that its cover is lacking
of any written title or label.
* Terom blinks, looking the book over. "Interesting." She hands it over.
"Keeping your privacy?"
* Avignon takes the book and sets it atop the papers.  "A small amount of
obfuscation is a healthy thing, wouldn't you agree?"  He offers Terom a faint
grin before opening the book and flipping through the pages.  When he finds the
one he likes, he reads it carefully before flipping all the way to the last
page.
* He takes a charcoal pencil from the small table on which his uneaten sandwich
rests and uses it to copy the address on the last page of the book.  That done,
he sets down the pencil and unceremoniously tears the last page out of the book. 
"Here you are," he says as he offers both the book and the page to Terom.  "If
you'll just replace the book, you can keep that page."
* Terom blinks, taking them and slipping the page into her vest. "Why did you
remove the page?" she asks curiously.
<Avignon> I keep all of my scratch paper in the books.  In fact, that's the only
real purpose the books serve.  I almost pity the fool who tries to figure out
where to find anything of value on THAT bookshelf.
* Terom laughs. "I guess if you can afford it." She places the book back where
she found it.
* The Captain allows himself another small smile.  "I hate to be a boorish host,
mademoiselle, but unless you intend to take a guest room here I must excuse
myself for the evening.  I'm a bit old to be up at this hour," he says, in
defiance of the fact that he apparently had so much trouble getting to sleep
that he could spare the time for a sandwich.
* Terom waves him off. "Oh, I don't mind. I came on business anyway."
<Terom> I'll show myself out, if you want.
* Avignon nods.  "That will be fine.  I'll lock the door behind you when I
return this plate.  Damned inconvenient things, plates.  Somebody should start
making them out of paper so I could just throw it out when I'm done."
* Terom shrugs. "Why don't you? A good sheet of paper should be about as clean
as one of your napkins."
<Avignon> Not a bad proposition, Terom.  If it works out, I could probably sell
them on profit.  That seems to be how people make their money these days, after
all.
<Terom> Not all of us can count on money in the family.
* Terom pauses a moment, then smiles at Avignon. "Enjoy your sandwich, Seņor."
And she leaves with another rustle of her skirts.
* Avignon smiles after Terom.  "Yes," he says softly, and mostly to himself.  "I
rather like the new way better."  He waits until the distant door closes behind
Terom, then lifts his sandwich.  "Enjoy your hunt, mademoiselle."