<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f2/Beardycox.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Avery Burnham<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Law Dogs (1)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 12th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Babel’s Tower Bar<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Bella, Ginny, Solomon (nearby); OPEN<br/><hr/><br/>“Breakfast would be lovely, miss, thank you,” Avery had replied to Bella’s gracious offer, slipping into the seat she’d indicated.  He tried to picture the woman next him with her friendly smile and charming laugh hidden in some dark alcove, sneaking drops of poison into another woman’s cup in order to steal the opening show.  The image was more comical than convincing.  It turned his thoughts in another direction though, back to what she’d said about having heritage in the east.  He wondered idly if that perhaps was the source of his client’s lurid fantasizing, people having all sorts of strange ideas about the orient and easterners’ supposed fondness for underhanded tricks and poisoning in particular.<br/><br/>That thought embarrassed him somewhat in truth.  Avery was a proud Englishman of course.  He had little doubt that there was a superior people on this planet and that he was of it, but he was not as convinced by the arguments of racialists as some in this country.  He’d met too many unique people, particularly in his time overseas, to see any real value in placing much stock on skin color as a evaluator of character or ability.  The Chinese in particular had long fascinated him as a culture ever since his time stationed overseas.  There had been much to like about it, much worthy of learning from, and even now his respect remained, despite the shabby way the Chinese were largely treated in this country.<br/><br/>“When I said east, I meant east by New York, mainly,” he clarified with a smile, feeling some need to explain.  “I thought perhaps you may have spent some time being formally schooled there.  Your voice seems…too refined to be untrained, if I may say so.”  Placing his hat atop the counter and folding his hands over the brim, Avery continued in a conversational tone.  “What brings you to Gomorra, may I ask?  I’m not ashamed to say I came seeking my fortune like most, I suppose.  It has eluded me so far, but then it’s only been a month.  Did you come to town with Mr. Solomon?  He was certainly very fortunate to have you here adding a touch of class to his opening …although I seem to recall some other lady was supposed to perform, although I can’t imagine she would have been anymo-”<br/><br/>A sharp elbow in the ribs chose that moment to cut into the conversation.  Avery glanced up to discover it was attached to a certain Miss Virginia Whatelely, an irritatingly sweet smile on her face as she beamed down at them.  He had thought she might give him a bit more time to make an introduction.  He had barely exchanged names with Ms. Capri at this point.  How was he supposed to learn anything if he couldn’t at least have a proper conversation with the woman? “Oh.  How to do you do?  Think nothing of it.  It is so terribly crowded, after all,” he noted dryly, glancing around at the sea of new faces she’d somehow brought along in tow.  “Avery Burnham, so pleased to meet you Miss Whateley.  I’d heard your name of course and hoped we might meet sometime…although I’d assumed it might be at a later date, for some reason.”  The last line added somewhat pointedly.<br/>