Who: Carolina Vane & Azalea Cerelia What: An encounter during Carolina's shift. Where: The Duckling. When: A little earlier than 8pm, Saturday. Rating: G. Status: Complete
The tenements were a Thieves Guild stronghold, out of which operated a labyrinthine assemblage of valuable resources. And of these resources a considerable percentage had been summarily decimated. The statistics were being updated by the second. Azalea's communicator flashed incessantly throughout the day as crippling losses came down to data. She could take these data and spread them out into colorful charts; she could use them to model the behavior of Guild revenue with respect to the relevant factors. Ceteris paribus, she could suppose, how much will it take to crawl our way out of this mess? But, whatever she did, the immediate conclusion was unchanging.
Shit had hit the fan.
Not that it was anything that couldn't be fixed in due time. Problems were only solutions in progress; Azalea kept herself chipper. Though she spent the day at her mother's store, much was accomplished through effective use of the ECN. Encrypted messages were sent to and fro, delegating tasks, brokering deals, pulling strings from out of thin air to keep the Guild's investments afloat. Between that and looking after her injured father, she had no time to attend to anything else. The visit from Mag had been a moment's respite. Even in personal correspondence, Lea was as succinct and efficient as possible.
But some items on the agenda could not be accomplished from one screen to another. And so, when evening came, Azalea found herself settling into a barstool at the Duckling. She waved the bartender over and was pleasantly surprised by whom she saw. "Carolina," she said warmly. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"