Owner	Pose
Loki	"I'm telling you, Henry, this is a forgery." The tall man with the reddish hair thumps the old book down with a resonant thud causing a hint of dust to fall off the leatherbound tome. The man known as Sam Gwydion looks up and shakes his head, even as he shoves the disputed object away with a faint cluck of his tongue.     "The hell are ya on about, Gwydion? This here is straight from the old A-Rab himself." The way he pronounces the word Arab has a long A in the beginning and his voice lingers on it as if granting it another syllable or two. "Insight into the knowledge of the ancients, the great works, secrets and all that sorta crap you're into."     "Yeah, I know you're saying that, Hank. But you see this?" He flips the book over and lightly pushes on the binding, "What's that read like to you?"     Henry leans over even as Sam pushes down on the spine, revealing three hidden letters that only come to the fore with the pressure. "Emm. Eye. See? So what of it?"     "That stands for Made in China. I'll give you twenty for it if only because I love a good fake."
Miyako Moore	Miyako Moore wanders in, sniffing at the air a bit. Aaaand.. now she's in a place that ALL smells like old paper. Gah. She waves politely at the people making the deals, not wanting to interrupt them while she tries to find the source of that magical smell she picked up. She starts from the outside of the stacks, lightly running her scarred fingers along the spines of the books and sniffing at the air a bit more than you would usually expect for a bookstore. Nervously, the fingers of her other hand lightly trace the flap of her messenger bag, making sure it is there with her. There is magic here. Somewhere. And sometimes when she finds it, things go more than a little bit weird, so she needs to be prepared. Right?
Loki	Henry looks up and waves a hand in Miyako's direction. "Heya, howareya?" He offers in the traditional greeting of the New Yorker, but then he turns back towards 'Sam' and makes a face. "Twenty bucks, you know my family's gotta eat, right?"     "From the looks of you I'd say you and your family have eaten enough."     "Yer a right bastard, ya know that, Gwydion?" But the large man leans upon the counter in that old used book store, scowling and chewing on his unlit cigar. He shakes his head, "I'm willin' ta come down to... eighty five bucks, and yer killin' me here."     "Eighty five?" The man responds, but when he turns his head his gaze will follow after Miyako for a moment. A smile is offered if their eyes meet but no more than a point of politeness. He rounds back, "I could maybe see... forty."
Miyako Moore	Miyako Moore circles a corner and follows her nose, wandering closer as she passes some shelves with newer books completely. She pauses at an aisle, sniffs, and skipps over it. Getting closer.. closer.. Much closer and she is probably going to spoil your bargaining by accident, if nothing else. At the greeting, she ohs, "Hiyah, doing good!" She crinkles her nose and sniffs a bit more, then frowns a bit, reaching in her messenger bag for some cream which she starts rubbing into the skin on her hands. She winces a bit and wiggles her fingers, stretching them out a bit. Then she starts roaming again. Now that someone is actually talking to her, she's moving toward you more directly. Oh dear. This could be a problem.
Loki	Curiously, Sam tilts his head to the side. At a glance to him... it's clear that Miyako is an individual who is entirely more than she seems. To what extent is not entirely clear, but sometimes it is good when a new piece enters the board, sometimes it's not at all. But for now he gambles ever so casually even as she strolls closer.     "Miss, would you be so kind as to indulge me?" He asks even as he slides that old book off the counter and then opens it towards her. He'll flip through a few pages and then extends it towards her, open to a particular page that has a rather disturbing image of a multi-tendrilled creature that is being sent on its way via purgation by a terribly dour looking clergymen. But then the tall man with the red hair touches a fingertip to the top left corner of that page, "Does this not seem like water damage to you?" And, indeed, there's a miscolouration right there.     To which Hank scowls, "Water damage, the hell are you on about, Gwydion?" But he's leaning forwards to try and get the book back from the two of them.
Miyako Moore	Miyako Moore blinks. Well. THIS is slightly different than what she was expecting. "Water damage? I know a lot about paper, do you mind?" Bit of an understatement really, if you know anything about her reputation. She rubs the last of the residual cream off on a handkerchief, and slowly reaches toward the page to touch it lightly, looking it over carefully. Though her eyes will unfocus as she touches the page, in thought. Her other hand hangs by her messenger bag though. If something is going to happen, she wants to be able to pull a page out right away.
Loki	Unfortunately there is no yawning maw of the abyss that greets her eyes at daring to read the forbidden words. There is no summoned great creature that roars forth from the page. It is, truly, just perhaps a little water damage though the book definitely does seem to have a subtle hint of the arcane to it. Something someone of a particular mindset might be able to discern.     But for the purposes of the negotiation, that has not come into play, yet. "I'll go sixty and that's my final offer." The tall redheaded man says even as he points at the vendor, who seems to be scowling and chewing his cigar... but is definitely mulling it over.
Miyako Moore	Miyako Moore bites her lip in thought. She's home. Like throwing Poseidon off the bridge into the ocean. "The paper is from.. Holland, I think. It's very old.. fourteenth century, I think... See, it's faint, but you can see the imprint of the wire mesh, and the way it stretched from being hung on the ropes. That and the weight of the paper.." She's on a bit of a roll as her affinity starts pouring some information into her. "It's handmade paper. Maybe a monastery? It was probably supposed to be a hand copied Bible at some point." She hmms. "And yeah, that's a little bit of water damage. But, you know. It's ancient. Things happen." She blinks a little and looks back up at you both, then realizes that this probably threw a very large wrench into whatever it was that was happening here, smiles a bit nervously, and ever so quietly slips a single sheet of square paper into her fingers on her other hand.
Loki	Hank's response is a loud, 'HAH!' even as he chews on his cigar a little more animatedly.     But a snort comes from Sam, and with that response she gives to him he taps a fingertip lightly on the counter, perhaps looking a touch annoyed. Of 'course' the random person he chose to ask was an expert. But never let it be said that the Trickster is adverse to the occasional gambit backfiring upon him. He crinkles his nose and looks back at the proprietor of the store.     "Very well, two hundred."     "Yer damn right you'll pay the full two hundred, and be glad I didn't bust ya for some more."     But Sam's accepting the book back and tossing it upon the counter, letting Hank do his work of preparing it for the sale. The old cash register starts to chug as he rings up the sale. But it's the girl that Sam studies, his sharp eyebrows quirking as he tilts his head, "My name's Sam Gwydion. Who are you?"
Miyako Moore	Miyako Moore smiles with a flash of nervousness. "Miyako Moore. It's good to meet you. Sorry about messing up your bargaining.. I just.. know a lot about paper." The square page in her off hand dances a bit around her fingers as she tries to decide what best to do with it and transfers it casually between her fingers, like a juggler's nervous habit. She goes quiet, suspecting that anything she might want to ask or discuss about just how you came to recognize a six hundred year old magic tome should probably wait until after she is out of earshot of the bookstore owner. Nobody seems to have recognized her so far, after all... and the molding paper smell around her is making it hard for her to tell what is really going on.
Loki	"Ms. Moore," He gives her a nod even as he digs out his wallet and slaps a pair of hundred dollar bills upon the countertop and slides them towards Hank. "The least of all you can do is grant me your card so I can call upon you later after having cost me so much money." He turns back to the proprietor and accepts the bag that the man gives him before he looks back to her. "Consider it something of a retainer, in case I need to consult an expert on the written word."     He starts to move towards the door, but only after tucking the book under his arm. "Unless, of course, you are something of a charlatan." His smile is gentle, but the edge implied.
Miyako Moore	Miyako Moore nods. "Oh! Of course." She tags along, and once clear of the door, makes a quick tear in the paper. Not even looking. And makes a couple of absurdly casual folds. Then she reaches back in her bag and pulls out a pen, scribbling out a name and a cell phone number and email address. The handwriting is hurried and plain.. and on a piece of paper folded over to the exact size and shape of a business card. You can not tell which edge was the original edge of the paper; all four edges look like they were cut cleanly. She offers it to you. Ridiculously blatant affinity with paper, and she knows it. That was NOT normal; the paper loves her like a servant loves their master and king. "I'm always happy to meet an interesting sheet of paper, if you have some you need looking at."
Loki	For some reason her manner causes his smile to broaden just a touch. Then he accepts the small piece of work she offers him. He considers it for a time, then pockets it lightly in his jacket. His green eyes meet hers and he gives a small nod which might pass for a hint of a bow before he straightens. "I shall definitely keep you in mind, Ms. Moore." That said he adjusts the bag and the book so it is nestled comfortably under his arm.     "If I have more pieces of paper that need your keen eye you will certainly be the first individual I call upon. Good day to you," And with that he turns to depart, moving along the sidewalk and slipping into the crowd with a curious ease.