Ziggy focused her sights on the smoldering end her cigarette, contemplative. It seemed the ghost’s intentions for the evening involved more than drinking and discussing the state of his being.<br/><br/>While this newfound energy stretching her company’s physique left a hole in the middle of their conversation, she imagined Count Graves was more talkative as time passed. If nothing else, she’d been provided with a name, and that offered erudition for the time she was wasting. With luck, she might in the future have a reason to bring it up to interested parties.<br/><br/>The information given was forfeit.<br/><br/>This underground of meta beings operated on a bartering system as old as the one powering her unique brand of magic, and when something was sought after, there needed to be an exchange. Maybe not one of equivalence, but it certainly needed to be more than an empty promise. Ziggy could give the Count assistance because she had nothing better to do, but that didn’t make her services free. The cost was his privacy. Anonymity died when the world moved from analog to digital.<br/><br/>Finishing the last of her diet coke, the caster placed the emptied can on the counter to free her hand. She pocketed it, rummaged, and produced her smartphone.<br/><br/>Sliding over the screen, she did something for a moment before putting the phone back in her pocket, satisfied.<br/><br/>“Sure, Boss.<i>Assistant.</i>Whatever you wanna call it.”<br/><br/>Sucking sharply at the filter, Ziggy’s cigarette bobbed with each word shared between them. “Where exactly are you hopin’ to find these people you’re lookin’ for? If they ain’ downtown, I wouldn’ even know where to look. Fangs usually head uptown to the clubs and furs tend to head to the docks where the casino is. Ghouls go where the dead go.”<br/><br/>The woman’s face contorted as her distaste proved apparent on her pinched features.<br/><br/>“But it’d help if you had names, yeah? Bet I could find a Facebook profile or a Linkedin if you can give me that much. The rest’d be easy.”<br/><br/>Hopping down from the stool, Ziggy continued to be short. There was no widening or stretching or anything fantastical or monstrous changing that fact. Just a petite frame in an outlandish suit.<br/><br/>“So, real quick… but do we need to walk? Can you get around without hoofin’ it?”<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="7082" data-username="@Lurktastic" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/7082/">@Lurktastic</a>