<strong>Medea<br/>Quincy's, Brooklyn<br/>Early morning</strong><br/><br/>I slowly bring my hand up, transferring one of the crystal sphere's into it's pouch, while the other remains in hand.  It's a simple trick, and the tilt of my head and smile distract her as I speak, drawing her attention away from my hand so that the disappearing orb goes unnoticed.  "I'm afraid I don't," I reply, my West Coast accent unmistakable.  "I may like to make his acquaintance.  People with names like that know secrets, and secrets are valuable."  I find her appreciation flattering; but then, I-as-Medea always get looks like that.<br/><br/>But hope does spring eternal.<br/><br/>I roll the sphere from my palm to the back of my hand, letting it slide down my arm before twisting my arm and rolling it back to my palm, then up to my fingertips, where I balance it perfectly.  I allow her to walk around me, keeping an eye on her reflection inside the orb in case she should try to assault me from behind.  My other hand sneaks a tiny vial of dark green liquid, which gets tucked between thumb and palm.  I wave my hand back and forth, sliding the orb easily from wrist to palm to back of hand to wrist and in reverse order, timing it to the beat of a not quite calm heart.  The movement will distract, pull at the eyes, and when I slow the orb, so will the heartbeat slow, relaxing the person I'm dealing with.<br/><br/>It's a minor trick, but a very valuable one.<br/><br/>"I<em> am called Medea.  I'm visiting your lovely city, and as a result, I've less knowledge of the ins-and-outs of the society of criminals and victims.  In San Francisco, such places as the cabaret belong to their society at night, places where they can plan and plot and hide their dealings from the sight of police and vigilante.</em>"  I start to slow the orb down, just a little, enough to draw her attention back to it.  "<em>Such people are notoriously weak willed, and the weak willed are terribly easy to manipulate.  You aren't weak willed, though; I can see it in your lovely eyes.</em>"  The rhythm of my voice is calibrated to help ease her concerns, help her trust me.  Not nearly as simple a trick; her body language speaks of paranoia, and a deep thread of something dangerous.  The line of tension in her shoulders, the new dust on her talons, the gait with which she arrives back to look me in the face.<br/><br/>That thread may not be a weakness, but it is definitely something I need to be wary of.  "<em>So tell me, my lovely huntress, do we play a game of 'trust me if you dare', or would you like to ruin my expensive dress?</em>"  I switch the orb between my hands now, rolling it from the back of one hand to my mid-arm and up the other back of my hand before switching hands, the orb forever sliding from right to left it seems, even as I switch my hands.  The tiny vial remains hidden in my left hand, the potent sleeping draught enough to put out the healthiest of people.  I let the orb speed up, letting the calm I created dissipate and bringing her attention back up.<br/><br/>She is a lovely woman, a little younger than I am; and smart too, her eyes are keen and bright even with the mild influences I'm gently giving her.  "<em>I'm not much of a fighter, I'll admit, at least outside the bedroom.  I am a more subtle sort of creature, drawing secrets and twisting minds until they're quite happily living under my booted heel, returning what they steal from those less powerful than they are.</em>"  The mob is just another business to me, and any business can be controlled if you seize it behind the head like the poisonous snake it is.