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Neve slipped quietly into Dock Town that evening. She needed to feel at home. It was almost dusk. A good time to check in on the central markets. People bustling to buy and hurry home after work. Good for rumors. Good for leads.
"Aye. Gallus, yeah?" an elf stall worker called in hushed whispers. She was hunched over her wares, picking her nails inconspicuously as the rain pattered around her awning.
Neve folded her arms quaintly, peering suspiciously through the veil beneath her brim. "I might be. Who's asking?"
"Serilla Tagun. No one important. That's just me. Got someone you might wanna knows 'bout. Lurking the market all suspicious-like."
Neve picked up one of the trinkets on display. A notebook. Tea stained papers, lots of charm, nice leather cover. A good fit for a hand purse or pocket. She was always running out of paper...
Sliding a few gold pieces to Serilla- far more than the humble notebook's worth- she thumbed through it casually. "What's the word, then?"
Serilla tried to give the detective back her change, but the silence of holding out her hand was just long enough to be uncomfortable. She finally conceded and added it to her till. Her pale blue eyes scanned the murky street before leaning over her stall again. "Tall man. Not from here. Make just wasn't right. Definitely didn't belong down here in Dock Town; Some noble fop touring from elsewhere, I bet. Didn't get a good look at him, though he's got more gold on his robes than every shopkeep here probably makes in a week. Kept bouncin' from stall to stall but never bought nothin'. Went towards the docks, leaving my stall. Polie shopped up near the Snake Nest thought him odd, too."
Neve inconspicuously scanned the street. No one right off the bat seemed to catch her eye based on that description, but maybe this mysterious, gilded window shopper was still in town. "I'll let you know what I find out."
She paced herself, blending in with the crowd. Buying something where it counted. Theories rolled through her as she kept the trail. A Venatori spy, sizing up vendors perhaps? A shifty new competitor? Maybe this man was just some out of place noble. Too soon to make assumptions...
Her questions, however, came to an abrupt halt as she rounded the corner. Standing by the elevator down to the docks, Neve found her man. Tall, sporting more gold than common sense, frantically flipping through a small stack of papers, quill in his mouth, and brow furrowed sharp enough to cut bread.
"Emmrich..." Neve sauntered over to her colleague. She couldn't help but laugh. Of course he would be so out of place someone would raise the alarm.
The senior mage nearly lept out of his skin, flustered as his umbrella slid back on his shoulders. "Neve! Hello!" He greeted warmly despite his obvious dishevelled state.
"You might want to work on your stall side manners next time you're here, y'know," she suggested through a stifled chuckle, "The vendors thought you were a crook."
His hazel eyes flashed with offense and embarrassment. "I am no such thing!"
Neve stood under the overhang beside him, stuffing her new notebook neatly into her robe. "What are you doing, exactly? Nobody comes to a market to take notes. Not for good reasons, anyway." She prodded.
Emmrich turned sheepish, a lopsided smile cresting his aged visage as he averted his gaze. "Well it's just..." He let a frustrated sigh slip, "I'm trying to find an appropriate gift for Rook... We've been together nearly a month and he's so very excited about it."
"Of course Rook's excited. Aren't you his first real relationship? He's probably more afraid of doing right by you than you are him," she comforted.
"I suppose you're right, Neve. Always so astute." Emmrich looked like defeat in funeral finery. He glanced to her with all the desperation of an old dog begging through a butchershop window. "Do you have any suggestions? I fear nothing feels... Worthy of him."
Damn a good romance. Lovesick wasn't even the half of it, if she had to describe his face. Neve glossed over the notes in his hands. A list of vendors and their "most likely to appeal to Rook" item. None seemed just right. Crossed out. Question marks. A list of absolutely nots. She huffed; a kind laugh. She was sympathetic. Both of them were so disgustingly head over heels for each other and this was just another piece of evidence towards it. She admired the love tangling between the two Necromancers. It wasn't a blaze. It wasn't messy. Fast, sure, but the world may or may not be about to end. Who could blame the ivy for climbing such a delicate lattice even if the house is condemned tomorrow?
"Didn't Vorgoth mention Rook loves shiny stones, once?" She finally asked.
Emmrich blinked, curious. "Well, of course. Called him something akin to a magpie, really. Green and blue gems of the semi-precious variety, especially!"
Neve smiled at him, patting his arm. "Come on," she tutted the older gentleman sweetly, "Ashur knows a woman I think could have Rook all starry-eyed in minutes. Maybe just not quite as starry as he is for you. I don't think anyone could beat that."