Ah, how things can change so quickly, aye?<br/><br/>Millicent simply stared, her features showing no expression as the man the boy called "Kell" completely ignored her offered handshake. Few refused such a gesture in this day and age, especially gents. Certainly he was distracted and obviously a popular man here, however, this was uncommon and left not only a sour taste in her mouth, but also a very large suspicion that he wished to not share who he truly was with her.<br/><br/>That was fine. She would find out, one way or another. Just business, nothing persnoal; this was the nature of her work.<br/><br/>The man that spoke, in the company of another, both she watched as they sat at a table, waiting on this Kell individual. To be invited to a table was nothing new for her, at times she was invited for much more, it was the nature of men. She typically did not find herself needing to share a table nor conversation with others, however, this town, this tavern, held so much in the way of chaotic aura from so many that she simply had to weed it out. She had no choice.<br/><br/>As she picked up her mug of tea and began to make way towards the table, Kell beating her to it and sitting already, she paused. It was not polite to intervene or intrude, especially when men were at a round table discussing matters they considered business; even if it was loitering.<br/><br/>During this pause, two other individuals had entered and sat; a woman of her own age it appeared, beautifully poised as she watched Millicent, and a man that seemed as though he was more or less in tow. A date, perhaps? Or a meeting of the minds? Both, especially the woman, caught her offguard with the scent of death.<br/><br/>Millicent groaned, gazing up, her eyes clouding over briefly as she gave a loud thought above, "how am I to collect when death is surrounding this town?!" She was confused, and it showed upon her expression as her head lowered in an almost defeated stance; she assumed the worst now, that almost everyone was suspect, would need filtered out, and she would be collecting more souls than she, or even her Maker had sent her for.<br/><br/>She reminded herself with a heavy sigh, she was here primarily for one. Her orders were one. Whether man or woman, she did not know, but ONE had to go; for it fueled the disaster taking place outside the gates, and also within them silently.<br/><br/>She definately did not get paid well enough for this; and reminded herself as well that it was for 'the good of mankind and the human race'.<br/><br/>Had this been a time in the future, after her turning by the bite, after her being thrown from the Heavens themselves, she would have handled this situation much differently. She simply would not have handled it.<br/><br/>Today, this time, she had no choice.<br/><br/>She again opened her eyes and blinked slowly at the couple that had just entered, they now lost in conversation; and made her move.<br/><br/>Mug in hand, she continued to the table she was invited to, eyes taking in each individual as she stood to the right of Kell, slightly behind him. This was her time for mental notes and a quick recon.<br/><br/>Kell, refusing touch. Check. A man that was louder than his counterpartner, they travelled in a pair. Staring at this man, Millicent's head tilted to the left in remembering the face now. This man made a comment in a nearby town; Millicent had been there a short time, and these two showed. He had made the comment regarding a baby piglet, as she had been coddling a wounded one at the old man's wagon; this man was more brass than dangerous, she thought then, and now. The other man, held her stare the longest.<br/><br/>Something was wrong, very wrong, with this man.<br/><br/>Have you ever had this sense? Just seeing someone or bumping into them, where your mind tells you, 'something's off here'? They just don't fit in. This man did not, yet oh how he tried.<br/><br/>Millicent now steps forward beside Kell, as work is work, and she was on a non-stop shift until she took the soul she needed. Time to find out if she found it here or needed to hunt this forsaken place longer. Gently, she places the mug down on the table and clears her throat. "sorry to intrude, aye?", she offers in a polite tone, then makes her move.<br/><br/>There's always two in a crowd; one that owns the room, takes control, is like a magnet. Then the other, the corner sitter, the starer and wisher they could be the room magnet.<br/><br/>At this table, Millicent quickly finds the chain of command, she's known it already by the stature, seating posture and the way that each holds their heads. Kell owns this table, period. The pear eater, he's the quiet one.<br/><br/>In situations like this, it's best to go with the middle man; and to her advantage, for he already invited her, as well as bothered to offer further eye contact and even a head nudge in her direction when the pair sat.<br/><br/>She choose him as her liason of sorts. And of course, he was sitting on the other side of the table, which meant she had to shuffle on over. Popping on her tiptoes, she slides behind Kell again, kicking with her heel the hem of her cotehardie back and away from her feet as it clings to the back of the man's chair, leaning down slightly as she passes him to take a deep sniff of his scent. His odors are primarily telling her he needs a wash, and she smells wood; the sweat at the nape of his neck shows possibly that he is overheated or worried. Undoubtedly he has something he hides. She does not touch him at this time, that would be rude, yes?<br/><br/>Passing Kell, the quiet man is next. Keep in mind, she COULD have simply went the other way and avoided them all to sit, and chose not to. One would understand she needs to at least get a feel for these beings, and the best way to get a man to babble and to try to touch them after being shunned is to make the scene a bit too close for comfort.<br/><br/>The quiet man, with his pretty pear skin curled before him, he has a familiar scent. She grasps the back of his chair, nudging her frame between his own chair and that of another empty chair behind his own, taking her time to proceed to the last man. Leaning down once again slightly, she inhales deeply, and her eyes snap open, again clouding to a pale grey. His aura is not what she felt it would be, he is an outcast. Undoubtedly, even under the subtle scents of manly sweat, leather and cloth, and a too woodsy and yet rustic undertone of something, even under the scent of his fruit and linguring drink, this man is dead.<br/><br/>She coughs loudly, trying to right her senses, for she had never met another of her kind that had been thrown down, and she was still not positive of his nature and if this was the case. She had met many others of a pure essence, and they were all able to detect each other immediately; as well as the mark.<br/><br/>If he were truly one of her kind, there would be a mark upon the body he dwelled. A mark, if he were thrown down, that would be the opposite of her own.<br/><br/>Shaking her head to get into the proper mindset, she mutters, 'excuse me', and continues to the third man that invited her. Millicent simply stares at this man, pulling the empty chair and unceremoniously sitting down. The billowed sleeves of her dress cover her pale hands as she reaches across the table and grasps her tea mug, pulling it before her, eyes peering over the rim at Kell and the dark man, as she has judged him. "I did not mean to interrupt, please...continue".<br/><br/>Her thoughts whirl, not wholly paying attention to their chatter. She is worried now. If the dark man is the soul she is to collect, which she is unsure of at this time, and if he is indeed a Fallen, she is in for trouble.<br/><br/>It isn't that they are 'invincable', it is a matter of morals in taking this type of soul.<br/><br/>IF this is the soul she is to collect, which undoubtedly there are many here that need taken; yet if this is the main she was sent for, she would be waiting for his death of body. And she needed to keep it business, always business. For when things get personal, that's when morals come in with a hint of value and then that emotional turmoil that only humans and those touched by them embrace.<br/><br/>It was going to be a long night, indeed.