<strong>Name:</strong>Peregrine<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Near the Reception Hall, Civic Festhall, Sigil<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Mid-morning<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>A Most Urgent Matter<br/><br/>It was a curse, sometimes, having good hearing. So much of Perrin wanted to turn on her coils again at the very mention of the so-called great entropy of the planes. Now<em>there</em>was an opening if ever she had heard one, just her size and begging to have her sink her fangs into. Then again, you had to be careful about who you talked philosophy to in Sigil. Some people's arguments were more… pointed than others, and for some reason Perrin seemed to bring out that quality in people more than most did.<br/><br/>Folly indeed. Well, discretion and valour and all that. All the more so when it came to shady looking characters on business that was uncomfortably close to things she herself had been involved in in the past. And anyhow, how often was she handed an excuse to meddle in someone else's business?<br/><br/>Back in the reception hall. It probably wouldn't be<em>too</em>hard to find Harmony, she suspected. The Modron blended in about as well as Perrin herself did, and even if she wasn't present in the Festhall itself this day someone would have an idea of where she had headed off to. Hopefully.<br/><br/>When she had spotted a face she recognised and asked, however, she had received nothing more than an "I think I saw her back towards the sensoriums?"<br/><br/>"Oh yes, thank you ever so much for your help," she snipped back at the pixie.<br/><br/>She received an affronted look for her trouble. "You're the one who apparently can't find a Modron off Mechanus. If you need your hand held that much she probably has a schedule filed with Cuatha."<br/><br/>Perrin opened her mouth to retort then closed it again, wrinkling her nose. Why did the world just keep begging her to get bogged down this morning? "Oh, go sneeze on your own dust, bite size. I do not have time for you."<br/><br/>The tip of her tail vibrated in irritation as she slid up the hall, back towards the first wing of sensoria. What was it with today? Death of a thousand cuts as everything vied for her attention. Of course, she wasn't the only one. A<em>different</em>demanding presence had taken up Cuatha's attention in Perrin's absence — at this rate the Society was going to be doomed to poor risk management for the rest of eternity — and one important enough that she actually abandoned her seat, at least for a little while, instead of finding someone to foist the man off onto.<br/><br/>Or maybe she was just bored. Either way it was hard to resist the opportunity to corner her before she was sucked back into her role as shepherd for the throng that infested the reception. She hesitated just long enough to nearly let Cuatha disappear from sight before making up her mind, then undulated after the pair.<br/><br/>Just in time to pass a bundle of rags abandoning its spot and follow along behind the retreating elf. Someone with the same idea as Peregrine? Well, perhaps it was that her mind was on stalkers what with Harmony and all, or elsewise that it was in fact an<em>armed</em>bundle of rags, but either way she found herself accelerating to a healthy clip. A moment later and she had drawn up parallel, changing her gait to take up only a third of the corridor to avoid tossing either of the bipeds into the wall as she kept pace.<br/><br/>She never had managed to kick all of her finishing, not when dealing with people who could make her stay with the Society uncomfortable at any rate. "Lady Cuatha! A moment of your time?" Her politeness did not extend, however, to actually waiting for a response. "I simply must at the very least schedule a time to talk to you about<em>risk</em>. I have been considering the figures — " One hand went down to half produce her abacus and clicked a few beads for emphasis. " — and I have some absolutely fascinating ideas on how to prevent fatalities and other failed field expeditions from being an excessive drain on our balance sheet." A pause. "Also, that scraggly thing is following you. The one with the knife."<br/><br/>Another pause as the pixie's words came back to her. Well, they had been sarcastic but why the hell not? Even a rogue Modron might not shed all their habits. "And, just a thought, but by any chance has Harmony — our new Modron if you recall — filed a schedule with you?"