Rain follows, thinking for a moment. "Ah, well, we've sorted through some of the stuff from last time. Nothing too important, but we got some of the things that Clo. Cloxe. The thaumaturge wants." And pretty much everyone knows who The Thaumaturge is. Something-something-something, all in Old Realm. Good at his craft, but batty-er than a cave full of the flying pests.<br/><br/>"Oh, and word in the city is that the Demon Tiger of the hills was seen during the mill fire." Rain pauses thinking. "There's... also... OH! Yes! That collar you had was something impressive. Minor artifact."<br/><br/>Brass is off in the back of the safe house, alternating between tending to a wound that would be fatal to any mortal, (If it were any worse you could see right through her right side) and muttering sulpherously. There's a bit of blood on her lips, and in her red hair, but at least she's made an attempt to clean up.<br/><br/>The (slightly) taller woman's silken clothes are quickly mending up, which tells you that she probably got into the fight an hour or so ago. She sways, rising, muscles tensing, a few a bit more visible than you'd like. "Hey. Found a snoop around here. Took care of it. And you were right, somebody's preparing for something big. Firedust." She punctuates that last word by letting a small handful of the powder spill from her hand (into a bag. The stuff's too expensive to just waste.)