The graveyard shift

[ParanoidAndroid]

After a brief change of clothes (and face), Henry takes Jordan hardware shopping. Namely, shovels. Then to a more tasteful location for a late-night snack; Truck-stop sandwiches, store-bought chips. Junk food of the gods. He insists on paying this time, knowing that evening out his debt to Jordan would require a few meals like this.

He eats in relative silence; 'Relative silence', in his case, meaning 'total silence'. "I have a an idea," he says between two bites. "Going to call in some back-up." The tone does leave some room for objections, but not many. Exiting the store they'd taken over for lunch purposes, he makes a short call on the payphone.

Returning to the table, he says, simply, "New Guardian in town. We have..." he looks at his watch, "45 minutes to meet her at the graveyard." He bites into his sandwich with renewed vigor. Mmmm, eggs, onions and garlic.

[Sherrinford]

Jordan chomped on his ham and swill...swiss sandwich and nodded.

"It's good to hear that you're getting more help in town, Henry. And thanks for dinner."

Finding Starling...he'd try through the records, first. Otherwise a divination using Starling's blood to boost sympathy. That was the problem in divination magic. He wondered if Starling had used his name long enough to reduce the Shadow potential...if he used the name on everything, for everything...

"Henry, did you find any mail or something with Starling's true name...a diploma, a trophy, a slutty greeting card? And do we even have the roughest idea when he would have been interred?"

[ParanoidAndroid]

Henry, taking another bite from his cold turkey sandwich (extra pickles), nods. "It is. I could split myself in twenty with everything that needs doing in this town." Actually, that wasn't such a bad idea. "My pleasure. I still owe you a few coffees." There's a small smile at the corner of his mouth as he says it. No, he hasn't forgotten.

Taking a drink of water to wash down the taste (pickles definitely weren't made for him), he adds, "There wasn't any mail at the place. Everything was cleaner than an op room." A moment of silence. "There was a name on a picture, though. Ryan Pratt. Either a real name, or a very good fake. It's worth a shot." He hesitates a moment, choosing his words carefully. "If Starling is there, we might need to take a look at him, see what we can get from him." He takes a furtive look around, to make sure they really are alone. "Or what's left of him," he adds in a very quiet tone.

[West]

The two men make small talk until it's time to leave.

Scene Ends.