"The kid. The one you had me bloody well stalk across--look, quit poking that damn toy already!"
For a supposedly "benevolent" spirit, January could be embarrassingly impatient. Sato gave a pointed sigh--"I liked you better as a poltergeist, Ian-kun"--and put away the amusing little gadget. There'd time enough to play later.
Now, there was work to do.
She was cute, the Baku decided, watching the slightly human figure on the other side of the street. The bright scarf reminded Sato, charmingly, of holiday bonbons.
"I don't see why you couldn't just call her," Jan grumbled. "You've got her number."
And more besides. Indeed Sato had everything from Deborah Anne Thomas' birth date to a copy of her credit report. So far the data proved to be largely...ordinary. Alarmingly so. All the facts showed "Dev" to be a regular, fresh mortal girl (admitted with a bent towards improved behavior).
And yet a god and a demon had spoken on the girl's behalf. Plus, there was Alex's considerable interest in the little thing...
"I did not call because I did not want to risk her hanging up. In which case I would then have to seek her out and be pushy--"
"Rather than hunt her down for an ambush?"
"What did I promise to do then next time you used that tone?" Sato inquired pleasantly.
The Lars only snorted. "Whatever. Go pounce. The area's clean; if she's got protection, it's nothing hostile. Don't touch her, though, if you want to avoid leaving evidence. I'll keep watch."
"Such a sweet boy." She patted his cheek, enjoying the irritated flinch. What Ian lacked in manners he often made up in sheer entertainment value. Sato had lived long enough to appreciate fun more than etiquette.
Briskly, she crossed the street, eyes on the multicolored patch ahead. Her own trappings had been dialed down for the occasion: a wine-dark sweater, skinny jeans, and haute boots. She looked just a little too put together to be a student, a little too "flush" to be as young as she looked, and overall just a little too foreign to ignore.