3640/Off World Investigations. For All Your Extra Normal Needs

Off World Investigations. For All Your Extra Normal Needs
Date of Scene:	13 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Loki, Scarlet Witch

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Loki has posed:
    The window needs cleaning. That much is certain. It has streaks on it. Shoddy workmanship really. A thumb is moistened and casually reaches out to lightly squeak-a-squeak-a as he rubs it on the glass. Outside as well as inside. Loki, Prince of Asgard, Odinson, Rightful Ruler of Jotunheim, turned away from the window that looked down upon the world of Midtown Manhattan.
    His second story walk up from the lovely restaurant, and local hot spot, Lechey's gave a decent place he thought from which to operate. Centrally located, with advertising. His green eyes lifted up towards the half a billboard across the street, an ad that was appropriate, advertising the agency with its fitting slogan.
    He looked away from that window and walked the two steps needed to his rather ornate and elaborate oaken desk, his fingertip tracing along the inlay and then wandering to the phone. What would Sam Gwydion do in such a situation? Call someone? Or perhaps just let it go. Money is tight after all. He'll have to remember to check.
    But then, almost experimentally, he casually lifts the phone off its cradle and taps at it absently, fingertip stabbing into the numbers seemingly at random. Then he tosses it back down. His nose crinkles, distasteful. But fitting.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
How she found this place is irrelevant. Like many things in her life, she merely wants and it happens. Though that is not to say all wants and whims are equal, nor does she squander such powers. There's a certain gentleness to most as they happen. Her world is a simpler, more graceful thing because of her path through it.

Like this. her mind in turmoil over recent actions and an inability to come to any conclusions on what is the right next choice, Wanda has fretted. Guilt has plagued her. And, unlike decisions over what to do about her father, where no choice seems to be one where she and assuage her guilt without creating new waves of it, there is a thing that she can do about the other, the girl that she stripped of power. Hope's screams still haunted her and gave her nightmares.

It wasn't like Wanda could really turn herself over to SHIELD - if she were incarcerated, she couldn't help her father. And to visit the other seemed similarly shortsighted until she knew more. Nor could she turn to the some small few she called friends and confess her sins. Too many pieces of the puzzle still lay flipped over where the pictures could not be seen.

What she could do, a thing she only realized when her feet had stopped herself down on the street outside the door with the sign that proclaimed investigator for hire, was to find out what she could about the young mutant she'd harmed, and make decisions from there.

Thus it was that she found herself climbing the stairs and letting herself into the office after a delicate rap upon the door.

Loki has posed:
    The universe does have a certain way of allowing one to flow from moment to moment until karma or kismet steps to the fore and offers its own little beacon into the future. Some people can see the signs more clearly, most don't even know they're there. But it's curious in that moment when the young woman is aware, when she touches that small tendril of fate and makes it her own with the simple act of ascending.
    Lechey's, this time of night, is doing a brisk business and so even through these thin walls she'll hear the hustle and bustle of the crowd on the other side in that eatery. On this side as she climbs up the steps, moving past the low-hanging halogen lights and towards the fine wooden door that stands outside next to a small window with that has the name stenciled, /Off World Investigations, Sam Gwydion, PI./ But the door is there, the window with the open/closed sign is turned to open and it beckons.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Open it is, and the woman does not question this, even though the hour is late for such things. She rarely questions these moments in her life. Things merely are. And, in truth, it is an answer she needs. To ask the why of it would change things..

Stepping through the door, she looks around. The door is allowed to close itself with that aching slowness that some have. Though the click of it behind her is only loud enough to denote that someone has entered the room. Its soft *thuck* as though its brushed a kiss across the lintel as it comes home to rest. It saves the woman from announcing herself, though she stands there and waits until she is acknowledged.

That, too, she is comfortable with. Her presence a thing that blossoms in stillness and quiet, even if it also has sharp edges and and loud sounds. Those things do not become her so well, though, so she uses them sparingly. This, the softness, the gentle, that is where she most wishes to be. It is only that the rest of the world demands so much of her that she ever leaves it.

Loki has posed:
    The office internal is a curious thing. Sweeping and wood panelled, a long room with a desk and some chairs. No place for a receptionist, well unless one moved that really exquisite book shelf to the side and took out the conversation nook with the smoking chairs. And there's that cart of liquor that looks as if it was something from the 1920s. Definitely a certain vibe to the room that would lend itself to say a jazz band or the hint of prohibition.
    But the man there at the far end of the room is a smile of warm greeting on an otherwise fairly drizzling rainy night. "Evening." Comes from him, offered with a smile as he lightly spends a billiard ball on his desktop and leaves it there, twisting on the ledger as he steps around.
    Hopping onto the edge of his desk and crossing his arms over his chest he looks towards her, "To whom do I owe this honor?" His word choice strange and his accent decidedly British, he seems entirely pleased with himself. Perhaps it's because she's likely his first client.
    Well, first real client.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
Her own accent is thick with an Eastern European drawl, but even so it is easy enough to understand. "You investigate, no? I have.." And here she pauses. She's not answered him yet, and she realizes this. The oversight stopping the blurt of words that would have otherwise tumbled from her lips. Ah, yes. There were observances. Things that were usually done.

She takes a step towards the desk and comes to rest immediately in front of it. "Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. I wish to hire someone to find me answer to a question. Only.. there are circumstances that are perhaps questionable."

There. That covered it, yes? Without fully admitting to things, she could feel out the man's place on certain matters of legality. If he wasn't the one, she would know. They both would know. No harm. No foul.

She smiles. Yes. This was an answer.

Loki has posed:
    "I investigate, yes. Sam, Sam Gwydion." Fingers touch the center of his chest. His answer is there, in the moment, even as he steps forwards and towards her. Getting close enough that he can wave her over towards one of the chairs, the sweep of his arm including the conversation nook if she'd prefer that, even as he strolls over and lightly takes the top off a brandy bottle with a glassy clink, "Would you care for something to drink, Ms. Maximoff?"
    And if she wishes she'll get a glass of her own, but Mr. Gwydion is going to have one himself whatever her answer. Alcohol prepared and served, he waits for her to select a seat and then will take one up opposite in his own sort of lazy strolling gait and unconventional manner.
    A sip is taken from his glass and he looks to her as she relates her wishes. "Well I am fond of questions, often much more interesting than the answers. But what makes this give you such trepidation, Ms. Maximoff?"

Scarlet Witch has posed:
A drink seems to be the polite thing, even though alcohol is not a path she usually takes. So she nods and answers, "Please. Whatever it is you are having will be fine." A seat taken with something less of grace than ease.

"How do you say it, I have been witness to a crime?" Which is both truth and lie. She was witness. She also perpetrated the matter. Semantics are dodged, though. If this displeases, the rest of her tale can't come forth. So she sows that little seed and sees what grows of it.

Loki has posed:
    Just a snifter of brandy, good though not so much so that a relative newcomer to the joys of alcohol might remark upon it. But tasty. He settles into the chair opposite her, over-stuffed assuredly and seeming to draw the slim man into its depths as he crosses a leg over his knee. "Then would not the local constabulary be the one you should seek out?" He asks the pointed question even as he likely knows the answer. Since one does not come to an investigator if they want the attention of the authorities.
    But then he waves it off and smiles, "Forgive me, please continue." Another sip of the drink is taken as he looks to her and at a glance... he does seem curious. Perhaps eccentric. But if she took a moment to consider the room...
    Over there on one of the shelves is what might be considered a chupacabra, complete with tag to proclaim it so. But to even the most casual observation is a cat carcass sewed onto a goat carcass.
    Across the way are a pair of crossed axes upon the wall that seem to hold some place of prominence, as if they were to be honored as the property of one of the great smiths of the world... only for a Made in China mark be there upon the haft.
    There's even a heavy bag with chains wrapped around it tucked into the corner of the office, seeming to sit there out of disharmony with the decor. But not one whit of the true of magic not one scintilla of magical power can be sensed. Strange, when combined with that compelling feeling of fate, yet there it is.

Scarlet Witch has posed:
His answer brings a blush of guilt to her cheeks, a blush that she buries in a sip that is rightfully too large for one such as herself to take of the deep amber liquid. The gesture causing her to choke upon her swallow, leaving her coughing. The glass held, but put down upon his desk.

"No. No. You are correct. That is the answer. Only, if I do that, then I am unable to stop other things from happening. If my hands are tied there, then they can not be undoing the knots that are made elsewhere. It is like.. how do you say? Damned if you do, damned if you don't?"

Her glance avoids his, sweeping across the room instead before returning to the desk, and her drink. For the moment, in her guilt, she avoids the direct anomally of them man himself. The draw of Fate, though - that she feels. That she's always felt, even though she has not always had words for it.