That seems to get Corliss's attention. She leans forward and watches you intently. "The old lick lies. Bouchard told you this? Did he claim to see me himself?"
You shake your head. "He told me one of his boys did. I didn't get a name; he didn't seem interested in me pressing any further."
She hastily scribbles out a memo beneath her letterhead and tri-folds it. "I'm going to have to request a meeting with Bouchard myself. Thank you for telling me this."
A Knock At The Door
A sharp knock comes from the door and Corliss bids you to open it. A tall man slips into the room and stands to your left, straightening his jacket. You recognize him as one of Corliss's ghouls.
"Yes, Gregory?" Corliss asks. "What is so important that it cannot wait with the rest of the cretins outside?"
"Apologies, mistress, but Alisha Grey has arrived and she insists on seeing you. She refuses to take no for an answer."
Corliss curses under her breath—the stress of her position is clearly weighing on her. "She'll want to know how I intend to deal with the attack on her exhibition," she mutters to herself. "Agad the Imperishable, you're dismissed for the evening; I have other matters to attend to. And for God's sake, try to avoid being accosted by Anarchs again. Maybe stay home and read a book." She slams an open palm down on her desk. "No more crises!"
You pat the gun in your shoulder holster. "I'm taking the situation seriously. Don't worry about me; I'll be careful."
"You'd better be," Corliss snips and dismisses both you and her servant. "Send Ms. Grey in when you leave."
Back On The Street