Laser beams we're about to awesome all your dreams
Raising a single brow at Jack’s analysis about his ability to deal in information, Wessex hums to herself and then shrugs lightly. “Well a dock worker seemed sure that you would know how to get what I need, so -” so here she is, and if it’s a dead end, then she’ll go elsewhere. It’s as simple as that. “I’m Wessex,” the demigod adds when prompted, flashing a polite expression. Noticeably lacking is her surname, because at this point, she’s fairly certain it isn’t possible to remain anonymous anymore. Only one big, bad, blonde Wessex running about. And no matter where the Captain falls on the political spectrum, she offers him a quick, firm handshake, before they find themselves at building she recognizes.
Doesn’t look like much has changed in the Hanged Man since Wessex was last there - though it has been longer than she’d care to admit. Something something Sunjata and loyalty to the Krai and the Vlad. “Whiskey. On the rocks, please.”
When drinks are in hand and her money changes hands, the Wraith settles into the wall behind her and takes a sip. “I’m looking for someone with Air Magic who won’t be against letting me bite them.” Which is to say, someone who isn't choking on the Old Gods' dicks.
Doesn’t look like much has changed in the Hanged Man since Wessex was last there - though it has been longer than she’d care to admit. Something something Sunjata and loyalty to the Krai and the Vlad. “Whiskey. On the rocks, please.”
When drinks are in hand and her money changes hands, the Wraith settles into the wall behind her and takes a sip. “I’m looking for someone with Air Magic who won’t be against letting me bite them.” Which is to say, someone who isn't choking on the Old Gods' dicks.
WESSEX
