trinkett | Third Dispatch. I have Advice. Written.

Third Dispatch. I have Advice. Written.

Dear Luceti,

My efforts to gain notice by the Malnosso Organization for my considerable human resources skills have not been enough, I fear.

To this end, I shall be offering my services free of charge: Effie's Advisements. No problem is too large or too small! We shall overcome -- together.

Most Sincerely,

Effie.

[That signature has a very elegant flourish to it.]

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"Oh...oh, I see."

This WAS helpful. Effie begins to relax a bit. "Who are the someones? The ones who like to break codes, here?"

"It depends. A lot of people just like to know what's going on. Others like getting into other peoples' business whether they need to be there or not. I've seen a few attempts, but so far, my own locks have stayed up."

"I suppose there IS no alternative system of communication." She takes back her journal and closes the cover. "These are it."

And then Effie blanches. What if...what if that was a transgressive thought? What if the Malnosso frowned upon discussions of alternative communications? What if she and Derek were at this very moment being watched?

In a shaky voice: "Don't...don't tell anyone..."

"I'd say if you really wanted to make sure it stayed private, keep it face to face. Just be careful where you choose to talk."

He pauses, then shakes his head at her next comment.

"I don't typically talk about people to other people."

That has to be a lie. Everyone wants information. Most people are willing to wield information like an assassin's blade.

"Right, right -- about people to other people." She clutches the journal to her chest. How can she have gotten so glib and careless?

Oh for...sometimes he wondered why he bothered with her. She was so damn stuck in her own world. It made him want to shake some damn sense into that over-poofed head of hers.

"Let me be more precise; I don't tell other people what I find out. Tends to make you less trustworthy to others. And using what I know only extends to vampires, or saving lives."

She remembered watching him fight and nodded. He was like a Peacekeeper without loyalties.

"Very precise. I do appreciate precision."

Her knuckles were still white on the journal's cover.

"You should do fine, then. Just remember to keep the as something no one would associate with you."

He'll stand, noting the clenched fingers, but saying nothing about them.

"All set?"

"Yes. Thank you. I must go, now."

There isn't anything pressing, just a keen internal sense that she might have somehow stepped over a Malnosso boundary and could be held liable for that by Them.

"Good Day, Mister Bliss."

"Take care, Ms. Trinkett."

The only reply he'll get are the hollow echoes of high heels clacking on the polished wooden floor.

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Third Dispatch. I have Advice. Written.

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