#flockofpan

Makeda Adere, exhausted and slightly disheartened at having her case dismissed, stormed into her office with her tattered brief case in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. Taking care to leave the door slightly ajar should the district attorney drop by unannounced, as he was known to do, she took refuge in her office, placing her brief case beside the ornate oak desk and pinching the bridge of her nose as she repeatedly reminded herself to breathe. Anger would do nothing to solve her problems. While it could often be channeled into something productive, it caused most to act impulsively. 

Challenges were usually welcomed with open arms by the experienced attorney, but this one was beginning to wear on her nerves, despite only being in the position for two months. Corruption was a concept and reality she was all too familiar with, having come from a place where the government had the courts in their pockets. That kind of corruption she could easily manipulate. It was no secret the Sudanese government officials were behind much of the courts ruling, usually swaying it in their or their friends’ favor. It was that knowledge that clued Makeda into who to rub elbows with when she wanted something. Here in Gotham, however, the corruption was nebulous, usually involving a mob boss. Here, she was an outsider, and no one wanted to give her the time of day- they just expected her to maintain status quo. Status quo, however, denied her power and ambition, and that was something she couldn’t accept. 

As she sat down and thumbed through the case she had recently presented to the DA, a voice interrupted her thoughts, which had only become repetitive. Peering over the case file, she saw a man, tall in stature and dressed impeccably well, standing in the doorway to her office.

Rather than pry into his cryptic statement, though her eyebrow quirked upward, she closed the file and placed it on top of the ever-growing pile to her left as she rose to her feet. 

✦ the first five names on their contacts list?

okay I am just going to go by most frequently used contacts or whatever..in now particular order tho)

Meloni Thawne (Mel)Axel Walker (Wanker)Lisa Snart (Lise)Sam Scudder (Sammy)James Jesse (Jim Jam)

Glancing up at Shiloh she blinked once or twice. Even with her hearing Rumple just couldn't quite believe what she had just heard. “He... what? But...” Eyes flickering away towards a set of special Fae charms the crime lord had requested from her for certain reasons she shook her head slowly.

“He had you though, and actually seemed to be getting happy again. At least as much as that utter morose and somber man could be. He... how?” For what ever reason Rumple was just having issues with the concept. Pan, Crane, Father Crane, the crime lord who had made a Deal with her providing her with information, one of the very few humans in Gotham who know who and what she actually was... Gone. Dead. No more.

Jaw twitching as she heard about the events leading up to Pan's death one hand started to slowly tap at the glass counter of her store. Mistaken identity by the police, they thought that he'd picked up the fear gas and mask once more. Confused and frightened one rookie officer had fired a shot. Unfortunately it had only taken that one shot. Proven wrong afterwards that he had in fact not picked up mask and gas once more the rookie had been placed on leave while an investigation of the shooting happened. 

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Some times even Rumple wondered if she was entirely sane. The Fae woman knew full well that she was in the Conventry's territory, knew full well they had no sense of humor, and knew that every other week they wanted their money. All nice and orderly. Mouthing off to them never went well, others had discovered this in the past but sometimes she just couldn't help herself. It wasn't entirely her fault, the knock on the door waking her up from a deep sleep. Leg hurting with no real time to attend to it, dreams that had not been comforting at all. It had been a rather bad start to the day, but normally it wouldn't have been a big deal. If she had been able to resist the urge to grin at the Coventry man and taunt him.

 “Cute little warlock, I wonder what your momma will have you do when you actually grow up... or are you gona get stuck lurking about taking small little payments from businesses that really don't hardly matter at all? Maybe just gona be a little baby witchy for the rest of your life.”

The comment had made the mans eyes flash with anger and suddenly she found herself being back handed hard enough for her head to hit the alleyway wall. Of course she could have dodged it, but she had learned long ago that sometimes one just had to take a beating in order to keep things from getting worse. Besides, all things had a Price and she had mouthed off. The mans repayment in turn for his sudden strike would come in turn.

Another few hard strikes as the Conventry man growled. “Fucking bitch, learn to shut the fuck up and pay us our money! Next time I'll really hurt you.” A punch hitting her stomach then a kick against her ribs as she sank to the ground. Without thinking about it suddenly one sharp and long stiletto dagger was in her hand, but it went unnoticed by her attacker as he looked up to suddenly see another man stepping into the alleyway. Spitting on the ground the Conventry man reached down taking a envelope of money before giving her one last kick as she gasped out. 

“Baby witchy can't even offer a decent threat.” Giving her an angry look he shook his head and quickly left. “Crazy bitch, and lucky... if that stranger hadn't shown up...” Voice an angry mutter he went the opposite way as Father Crane quickly slipping out of the alleyway.

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It had been a bit of a whim opening up a cafe when she ended up in New Orleans, but somehow it seemed appropriate. If ever there was a place with enough foot traffic at night, not to mention enough of a supernatural community to keep her interested, it was this city. Open only at night from eight in the evening to four in the morning she'd already gotten a bit of a reputation. On one hand the menu was quite limited, a particular noodle soup albeit a delicious one, and then what ever she might have on hand. However it was becoming known that if you brought the ingredients and made a request, she'd cook it with no questions asked.

In addition to this no one ever cheated her, those that attempted... well call it a string of bad luck, one that followed them to either their death or repayment. The rules were simple really, no cheating her, offer respect, and no fighting in the cafe. All were welcomed, so long as respect was offered while in her cafe. There were rumors as well that certain special patrons and clients had managed to obtain different relics or information from her, and whispers that she knew quite a few people on all sides of the fence. Whatever the truth, the cafe had became a neutral ground that had a surprisingly welcoming atmosphere and Deals of one sort or another being made every single evening.

Stepping outside into the alleyway for a moment to dump some trash the Fae woman was humming to herself, to one with the ears it would sound old and whispered of the Forest. The cafe was a simple place, a long bar that wrapped around the kitchen with chairs. A couple of small tables against the wall. A wide door that had sliding doors expertly crafted out of wood and fitted perfectly so they easily moved and also helped to block sound from outside. The kitchen was small, but perfectly taken care of without even a single spot of rust showing. Oddly enough almost all the pieces that could be made out of wood, in fact were and were also seemingly hand crafted.

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Three different kinds of horse races in and close to the city... well technically four if you counted the quick little one offs people did to prove they had a horse that had enough worth to get into even the smallest “proper” race. However only three that were of any real value, and all three influenced if not in fact controlled by the Coventry. Small ones between three riders at the bottom, middle ones between nine riders in the middle, and the major one twelve riders. All multiples of three of course, the Coventry had a thing for threes. Rule of three and all that, now if only the forgetful ingrates actually properly understood such things or remembered them fully. Not that Ms. Gold followed such, but then she was hardly human and operated under her own rules.

This particular race was one of the middle ones which meant it was held on a proper track if not one as grand as the major races. Cane held lightly in her right hand, eyes focused with a faintly amused smile on her face Rumple had moved forward before the announcers even started to call off which horses there were to observe the track. The names didn't matter to her so much as positions. A bad luck charm there, a good luck charm here, a horse that was overly tired in one spot next to a well fed and slept steed that was ready for the race. A multitude of tricks both magical and non used by the Coventry and she was learning each one. The last two races she'd predicted the winner perfectly, not that she'd use that skill in a race not held by the Coventry as it would no longer work.

A finger moved pacing out positions silently as she tilted her head a bit listening to horse names and positions. Turning she blinked in honest surprise seeing Father Crane before grinning a bit. The man seemed to have a few people close by and was engaged in a rather heated conversation with one of them. From the bit of research Rumple had done about his pub it seemed likely to be his chef. Slipping up next to him the Fae woman tilted her head a bit looking up while touching ever so gently at his lower arm with her cane to get his attention.  This particular day she was dressed in a woman's business suit dark green in color with a white blouse under it perfectly tailored to her figure while her cane had what looked like an ivory carved handle and a dark wood.