<div align="center">(http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x370/ChaneeDawn/Edith.jpg)</div><br/><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Name:</strong> Edith Geir<br/><strong>Scion of:</strong> Freya<br/><strong>Location:</strong> O’Bryan’s Nine Irish Brothers (Irish Pub)<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong> Maxwell Garamonde<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> This (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=38025488)<br/><strong>Time of day:</strong> Mid-Afternoon</div><hr/><br/>Giving the man a slight nod of her head, Edith then slid her empty glass to a bartender the man giving a nod and went about refilling the pint. Watching Maxwell carefully, she then observed the cane. It was finely crafted and seemed relatively thin that little bit of info had Edith glancing back at Maxwell as he casually reclined against the bar, he was putting weight on his apparently leg and he wasn't the only one with a keen observation.<br/><br/>"First off... What kind of steel and who made it? It is obviously well made and you take very good care of it, but I wonder how many you have fooled with it? How many simply thought that it wasn't a cane?"<br/><br/>Tilting her head, she was sure that the man was surprised, Edith's father before passing taught her how to recognize a weapon and she used that to her advantage whenever the moment was needed. "Just know this Garamonde, I don't trust easily and if I suspect the littlest thing well... Lets just say it won't end pretty. Now then where would you like to talk?" It was a risk but she was running out of resources and allies, there were very few people she trusted and even then she hardly called them for help.