Evening Visit

[evillurks]

The ordinarily spartan apartment is showing the signs of being inhabited by a man of limited mobility. It is not that The Shadow isn't capable of going up the hall to sleep in the bedroom, it's simply that he can't be bothered. Ever since leaving the Clinics, around the clock, his life has centered around the sofa and coffee table, and the kitchen. He is too fastidious not to put his dirty dishes in the sink, but papers have accumulated around his living room workstation until it forms a small disaster area. The PINpoint is central to the chaos, reading glasses tossed haphazardly beside it. Pens and pencils are scattered on the table and floor.

The Shadow himself is dressed in t-shirt and slacks, and looks comparatively put together apart from being sans shoes. He is attempting to gather the papers into some semblance of order as Myra arrives.

Comments

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

While he is organizing papers, Myra arrives, looking a bit ragged but otherwise presentable. She's just moved as much of her apartment as possible, so her hair is a bit astray from its usual perfection, but little else appears out of place. Still, it only seems to take a few stray hairs to make her look a bit tired.

Still, she's smiling as she PINpoints to the apartment, holding the PINpoint in one hand, and the tea cake in the other.

"Of course I managed to bring it along. Home is where the tea is." She takes stock of the apartment and raises an eyebrow, more out of curiosity than anything else. "Any, uh, success on your front?" It's hard to tell with all the papers around.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"It's more work not working than work is." The Shadow leans down to hastily gather papers and pencils off the floor, and the resulting wheezing is a horrible sound, but he seems to ignore it. He does use his right arm more than his left to spare his shoulder, at least.

"Home is where the tea is. You should have that on a plaque." When he straightens he takes in her appearance, but with his work spread all over he feels somehow equally disheveled. At the very least they are a tired mess together. "You look..." And there he stops, unuttered tactlessness frozen by what sense of manners he still has.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra lowers her eyes, self consciously trying to fix her hair, her immediate deductions leading her to that conclusion.

"I should have taken a moment before I came over." She tucks a few hairs behind an ear and looks down at one of the piles of papers. "I just moved my apartment. I'm not technically running from The Bureau anymore, but they're...not entirely one of the good guys either, now." She pauses for a moment, before looking up and facing the kitchen. "I'll get the water started. I'll be right back to help."

The wheezing has her almost as concerned as the day The Shadow called her to the clinic. He's at least keeping to the apartment, to the best that she can tell, but she imagines that leaning over is to an extent, on a long list of things the clinic doctors would prefer he refrain from. Nothing would stop him though, so she headed for the kitchen.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The Shadow eyes the general mess and shaeks his head. "So should I." It hardly bothers him if her hair is out of place, but he feels some sympathy for her because he has a vague idea of what she's just been through.

As she moves for the kitchen he begins to stand in protest, then realizes the time can be better spent in straightening up. She folded his clothes. He should hardly be bothered by her making herself at home in his kitchen.

Myra is met with a similarly sleek environment there, the appliances vaguely futuristic to her eye. A mysterious box almost as large as a radio shares counter space with the more familiar toaster. His coffeemaker is clearly the most used thing in the room, although there are a few dirty dishes piled neatly in the sink. The Shadow tends to be very tidy, except in the midst of working. His teakettle and stove are blessedly ordinary in their function, if modern in design.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Modern or not, she likes the designs quite a bit. They appear futuristic and efficient, and she could imagine nothing less in the kitchen of The Shadow.

The kitchen of The Shadow. She pauses for a moment, to indulge in a hidden smile at the concept and then quickly busies herself, getting the teakettle filled and on the stove. It only takes two cupboard doors to find his tea cups, and she sets them on the counter next to the tea cake before returning to the living room and picking up some of the stray writing utensils. Uncertain how his work is organized, she's not about to touch his papers.

"How's Vincent?"

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

It is only one kitchen, in one of three apartments he keeps, scattered across town and each under a different name. There is no question that it is this one that most strongly reflects his personality, however. Robbed of the roles of both Lamont Cranston and Kent Allard by age and circumstance, he has molded the fictional James Rettigue into his general-use alias, and that role has become his current default identity. The other two apartments he keeps look like they could belong to anyone at all.

The papers are very quickly shuffled into stacks, the work of his hands swift and efficient. The reading glasses are back on, and he looks very businesslike as long as he's sorting his work, but she can hear a very soft wheeze with his every breath. He has learned to tune out the sound, having been assured it will die away within a week or so. "I sent Green to see him, finally. I've been having agents act as his aides while he recovers."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"That's good to hear." She smiles at the knowledge that Metody has helped Harry. She is hoping the next time she sees him, he might be well enough to get around without his cane.

Soon a seat and the coffee table are free and Myra moves the chair across the rug so that she can sit on it while The Shadow will have his sofa.

"If you ever want me to stop by his place, let me know. I'll have more time from now on. If you need me, so long as The Chief hasn't made first claim, I'm there." Before he can get much of a reply in, she walks off towards the kitchen to make the tea.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The sofa is looking somewhat more used than when she saw it last, the cushions squashed and a blanket folded across the back showing that he has likely been sleeping there to avoid ever being far from his work. Truly, he has been extremely busy, although he has been physically resting as much as that work allows him to.

"I'd been meaning to get them together sooner..." He pauses to peer at a page, then glances up at her offer. Her swift departure makes him frown, but he is nearly finished tidying. The papers form a couple of neat stacks at one end of the coffee table, leaving ample space for their tea. He folds the glasses and sets them neatly on top, partly to anchor a few writing utensils from rolling off the top of the heap. His PINpoint is kept within easy reach, though, in case any urgent messages should come in. His agents are at greater risk now than usual, taking up the slack for him. It's a situation that irks at him, but even if he felt physically capable otherwise, that wheeze destroys his stealth.

When she returns his expression has softened subtly, and he seems slightly more at ease. The shift between working and social persona is subtle, but it is there. He has a sneaking suspicion she is making the tea because she thinks he shouldn't be up and around, but for the sake of a peaceful evening he refrains from protesting, at least for the moment.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra performs the little formalities of an abbreviated tea ceremony and smiles as she sits down. It was a different one compared to the last time they had tea.

"I've been doing that ceremony for almost two weeks while I was working for Tam Sook. He had me placed in this smal,l underground parlor owned by Lady Tsu." She pokes at a tea leaf in her cup quietly with a small spoon. "I don't think I've ever served so much tea on such a short time before."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The Shadow shifts to the edge of the sofa to take his tea, stirring it gently before settling back with it. Shoulder supported by the cushions, long legs stretched out beneath the table, he finds himself relaxing in a manner he hasn't since before his lung collapsed. "I could just say 'Report', but I'm not sure it's my place to demand to be filled in on what's been going on since you left the Clinics..."

Blue eyes fix on hers, intense, but very mildly bemused. He is not demanding the information, but he fully expects to get it anyway.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra smiles as she watches him relax. At least he seemed inclined to physically take it easy.

"That you could." She sips from her tea a bit early, but doesn't seem to care. "I think you have a right to know though, because it affects my availability for working with you. The tea parlor was really just a way to keep me out of trouble while the search was going on." She looks at the light brew in her cup and shrugs. "All I did was help Tam Sook rout out a couple of businesspeople that thought they could take over Chinatown. It was almost a joke, how easy it was. But it kept me below ground, while The Chief did some legwork and found out why The Bureau had suddenly accused me of treason." Her entire statement is delivered rather blandly until she speaks the final word, and in that single term, it's blatantly obvious her feelings on the matter.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The dishes in the sink are yet another sign that he has been doing very little physically, but his work has kept him from the sleep and mental relaxation the doctors have advised. He is trying, very hard, to behave himself. He left the clinics with grave warnings about his ability to recover from this, and for that reason he has been making every effort to stifle his usual restlessness. It cannot last.

At the moment he's tired, however, and that Myra is safe and sound in his living room has given him a moment of immense relief. He likes the sound of her working for him. Not his alternate. Him. It has a wonderful ring to it.

The last word recieves a frown, but he answers slowly, swirling his cup and watching the leaves in the bottom. "It was only a matter of time before your strange absences made someone suspicious, and now I'm feeding you information you shouldn't, technically, have." He glances up briefly, taking in her expression at a glance. "I'm not about to give you up, but... is it my fault?" There is no guilt in his tone, but he does feel a certain amount of responsibility for her, as an agent.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"No, no it's not." Her voice is very calm, assured, and supportive. "It's...mostly mine to be honest. I handled the situation poorly, and, since I hadn't been at The Bureau quite as often, between Ming and the trouble she caused, I was set up to react that way." She feels manipulated again, one of her most hated situations that seems to come back to haunt her.

"The one who set the whole thing up, knew I'd been favoring assignments with The Shadow recently, so they put me in a situation where I felt impossibly cornered, forced to choose..." She sets her cup down with a small clink. "The fact of the matter is that I wasn't cornered. The Chief would have worked with the situation, but I made a shotgun decision." She shrugs and picks the cup back up. "Now I'm dealing with the consequences. I don't think even he expected me to react so brashly. It would explain why he kept me out of things instead of letting me in on his investigation."

Hindsight is 20/20. She sips at her tea again.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"Hm. Well aren't you just a loose cannon." One eyebrow arches and he takes a first sip of his tea, but this is unlikely to hide the fact that he's smirking. He's been worried, but now that it's all sorted out he feels the freedom to be amused at her expense.

"I did try to convey to him that he'd damn well better sort it out. But we both should have seen it coming. At least now that you've been set up once, they should look on it with suspicion if someone tries it again." His gaze grows thoughtful. "You made it sound like you're officially my agent. Has this been discussed with him?" While he knows his alternate has first claim, the old Tiger feels possessive now that she's been restored to him.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

She doesn't seem amused, but she does little to show it besides pinch her eyebrows together in a stifled frown as she drinks.

"He made the point that I couldn't effectively spread myself between you, him and The Bureau, and that one of them would have to take a back seat to the other two." She shifts in her seat and lowers her eyes, trying to keep the displeased sparkle from being too noticeable. "He told me that I had to keep up with The Bureau, but to what extent I chose my allegiances, was my discretion. I think it goes without saying, I picked you, and him. I'm only keeping ties with The Bureau now, so that The Chief can let them have a direct line to him through me. Plus we can keep tabs on them easier if I'm still there, even if my clearance is kaput."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

Distance makes all the difference, but at least his moment of amusement seems to have passed.

"The work you've started on is more important than anything they can imagine." He nods, his approval over her decision showing in the glimmer of his eyes. "We'll have to see how it works, but it sounds like a convenient arrangement. I'll try to make sure my demands on you aren't excessive, but I know you'll be wanting a lot of information from me, and through Vincent. So will my alternate." Never mind that The Shadow himself has his hands in Myra's world, his own, and that of his now-deceased alternate posing as Khan. All this on top of recovering from a collapsed lung is a substantial workload. Fortunately he's had little to demand his attention outside his own city for the past few days. Everything else has been waiting quietly in the background, for now.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

He once asked Myra if she would have worked for him if he'd gotten to her first, and she recalls this question now as she sips her tea. Somewhere, in some parallel world, he did, and she's certain now, she would have become a full-time agent at the drop of his hat.

"Information, and also, I know there's...plenty of cultural differences here, but if you need anything taken care of here, let me know. It's not like I'll be recognized, and the records of any fingerprints I leave, will be outdated. I have more freedom outside of the Bureau now, and I've just about given up on the whole thing of trying not to overexpose myself to the future. Already our histories are diverging, your Myra was never branded a traitor and she didn't leave The Bureau, am I right?"

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

There are myriad multiverses, and infinite possibilities, but the worlds in which that happened are probably very close parallels indeed.

The frown has not quite left his features, rendering the impassive face grave and tired. "No, she wasn't, and didn't. It never occurred to me to be grateful for that." He sighs, with a wheeze that sounds like a death rattle. "On the other hand it's altered the situation for the better, at least from our perspective."

He sips his tea thoughtfully. "I don't know what else you and Vincent might have discussed off the immediate topic..." His piercing gaze meets hers briefly, an acknowledgement that he knew they'd end up discussing things outside business. "But if you intend to do any work in my world, you may want to play tourist through the city first, to familiarize yourself. The geography hasn't changed much, but the rest..." The beringed hand lifts briefly, the motion lethargic thanks to the shoulder injury, but he indicates the strange sleek modernity of their surroundings. "It's a different world. I assume you've already worked out the year."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"That it has." Myra nods as the tea cup sits balanced in her lap.

"I have." She traces the rim with a fingertip. "I've done some research on the styles, and I'll take a look into some of the cultural norms before I set foot on the streets. It won't take long, but I don't want to walk around gawking like Margo at everything." A faint smile plays across her face. "Who knows, I might be able to instill some of that old-fashioned dedication in the younger agents if they see someone setting the example." Maybe it's not quite as off-business as it first appeared. This is not mere curiosity that's provoked the topic of discussion.

"I'll learn. I've adapted to the Nexus, I think I should be able to handle a future New York." Besides getting her out of The Chief's hat (heaven knows she'll be bored out of her mind between what few assignments she gets from him), it'll help her feel like she's trying to repay The Shadow for his help back home, and allow her to see how his world has developed. Immersion in this future, could allow her to gain that hindsight perspective that could help improve things in her own New York's future.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

((I'm terribly sorry, I haven't been able to get the keyboard much this evening.))

That she has guessed the year, he knows, means she may have a good guess at his age as well. It's not a thought he wishes to entertain long, but he'd rather have her sort that out for herself than have her ask him, so it's just as well.

He is always content to talk of business, as he has nothing else, even now.
There is another drawn-out wheeze, which was intended to only be a sigh. The noise of his own breathing annoys him, but it can't be helped. "You're not just talking about odd jobs. You're talking about living in two worlds at once. That may entail some complications..." He is thinking aloud, as he tends to assume she'll weigh the factors for herself. "Are you going to be needing a base of operations here?"

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

((No worries.))

It's helped her understand how he can look as old as he does, especially after seeing him in the Nexus Clinic. It was after that incident, that she'd really sat down and thought about his age, but upon settling that it was even older than she'd originally estimated, it made little difference in things. She's learning to tune out the sound of his wheezing, hoping that it will leave him soon enough that he can resume his activities.

"I realize this. I may need a temporary residence for certain situations, but I don't see a reason to set up a permanent location. I'll be far more difficult to track down if I minimize my footprint here." In other words, she's willing to spend her downtime during cases in her own world, to help keep her whereabouts more secret. It'll allow her own Shadow to keep in touch with her better as well, since he has yet to request a PINpoint.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

That he is possessed of such physical skill into his nineties should be impressive enough to offset that, at least a little, but his age weighs on his mind more than it does his body. It's become a strain to adapt to so many cultural shifts over so many decades, and that strain itself is sometimes telling.

The wheezing is a horrible and nearly constant sound, and one that has prevented him meditating properly. Every time he tries deep breathing it sends him into coughing spasms, and even barring that he can't focus with the noise of it. On the other hand, apart from the obvious stiffness of his left shoulder, which has been there ever since he was shot, he seems physically capable enough. He's perfectly mobile, and there's a subtle restlessness underlying his movements.

"...Understood. I want to be sure you know your way around our time, but I'm sure I can find a use for you here." Especially now, because he trusts her to physically handle herself better than he does some of his newer agents, and that could be very advantageous while he's down for the count. His gaze grows all the more intense as he ponders that, although it does not seem to be focused on anything in the room. "Do you have any current missions on the board?"

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"No, I don't. I was only told to settle in at the new apartment, and to lay low. Vincent was going to be bringing over a few things for me later tonight, so the rest of the day would just be getting the studio set up." The Shadow had apparently found the place in a hurry for her, as it wasn't in the best neighborhood either, but it would allow her to keep her profile to a minimum. She hoped he would let her search for a more roomy place once things started to calm down some. "I don't think he would disapprove of exploring someplace else for a while to keep me out of The Bureau's cross hairs." It would bring a new level to the term 'keep low'.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

"Downright invisible." He agrees with a touch of amusement, but it passes across his features in a brief flash. "I'm... indisposed, obviously." Into that single word is thrown all the venom he would usually reserve for the most despicable of criminals, but infirmity itself is by far the most terrible enemy he has ever faced. "And I will be for a while yet." He takes another sip, then leans forward to set down the cup and reach for some papers.

"It's not that I don't trust the younger agents, there are some that have proven just as useful as any you know of, but putting them to work doing my job as well as theirs has my network stretched thin, and..." He pauses to cough a few times, wincing as the air whistles out of his lungs. This does not stop him putting on his spectacles and rifling through the stack of papers. "I know you're capable of the riskier work." His voice rasps as he recovers.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra watches him as he sorts through his papers, trying to keep from wincing at the sound of his rasp. He sounds horrible, but she's not going to say anything, so long as he doesn't try to go out in costume with that wheeze.

"Anything I can do to help improve the situation, I'm there." She finishes her tea and offers to top off The Shadow's cup before filling her own. "Just..." She muses for a moment. "What about Burbank?" Her 'new' voice will need to be identified to the contact man should she need to use the standard methods of contact.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

He sounds like a dying man, but from the way he does not let it stop him in his movements, he may sound worse than he actually feels. The sound is precisely what will keep him off the streets for a proper recovery time, at least. It may be a blessing in disguise.

The Shadow hesitates, papers in each hand. "Burbanks." He frowns in thought. On the one hand, it might be awkward to introduce her as a young Myra from another world and give the lengthy explanation he's already gone over with Harry. on the other hand, Harry and Burbank are the only agents left around who would know she's supposed to be a dead woman. "He-They're already set up for PINpoint communication, but..." The wheezing sigh has a gravelly sound to it, half a growl of frustration. "I suppose I'll have to make an explanation. If you'd prefer to go by another name, I'd understand, but Vincent already knows, and no one else is likely to think there's anything out of the ordinary about you."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"Right, you mentioned there were two of them..." Myra watches his hands move about the papers in a graceful fashion. "I'll pick a pseudonym, it'll save complications If you don't mind, I might even take a page from your book, and just construct a whole new person. I have a blank slate to work from, I might as well use it. 'Myra' will just be another call sign here, instead of an identity."

Cranston, Allard, Rettigue...a whole host of others. The Shadow had no identifying name beyond just that moniker he was known by, and it had served him very well from what she could see. It would behoove her to follow his example, especially someplace where she was a dead woman.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

He has made use of both entirely fictional persons, such as Clarendon and Rettigue, as well as playing the role of men who truly exist such as Cranston. The first course is certainly an easier one, at least in the short run. The world has become a more complex one, and identities are not so easily forged, but as always he adapts. "That's fine, but let me know what it is. We might need to get you some identification." There is a hint of relief in his tone. Harry Vincent is better informed than Burbank is, in regards to the Nexus, and he's content to keep it that way.

"I'll still need to let them know there's a 'new recruit'." Again there is a trace of amusement, and he hands her a slim folder. Within are news clippings, typed sheets, and a few handwritten notes all regarding a drug ring. Some of the information is less obviously pertinent, but The Shadow has drawn out those obscure clues and made notes for his own sake. "We'd better familiarize you some with modern weaponry, too. Even the police carry .45's these days."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"Different tools for a different time..." Myra accepts the folder and starts to look through it. "I'll need a gun permit, ID...what about a Helen?" She keeps her eyes on the page. "Helen ...Menz. I imagine the Burbanks might be a bit surprised at any familiarity I have with the system. So even the cops carry those big ol' smoke wago..." She catchers herself using her own period slang and corrects herself. "Those guns? I took down a kid in the alternate world with his switchblades, are those still common too?"

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The anachronism amuses him, but he's not above slipping into old slang every now and again. "Some things remain classics. There've been a few minor improvements, but the police are using what I've used for decades precisely because they're good." He reaches for the tea and takes a long swallow, still recovering from the coughing. "There are bigger and more dangerous guns, but they're also harder to carry and aim. A blade, on the other hand, will always be an easily concealed and handy weapon. They're around."

As she reads, he rolls the name around in his mind. "Menz. You'll need a birthdate." After a moment of rummaging in his pockets he finds a very ordinary, battered leather wallet, and tosses it to the table before her. The ID just inside is for one James Rettigue, aged seventy-four. If she adds two decades she'll have the more correct number, but his intention is simply to let her have a look at the information he'll need to put on it. He is not about to directly ask her weight or her age.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra opens the wallet and looks at the ID, running her hand over the flexible plastic with an almost curious look. She flips it over, and then looks back at the front, noting the birth date and the information she'll need to supply. The only time she ever makes a fuss over her age or weight, is to make the people asking embarrassed. Enough years of supplying said personal statistics and she considers the information little more embarrassing than revealing her eye color.

"We'll say 1958 for the year, I don't much care about the month or the day. As for guns..." Myra reaches to the holster at the small of her back and pulls out a small, gunmetal black Walther PPK .380. In one smooth motion, she removes the clip and clears the chamber before setting it on the table next to the teakettle. It's a smaller caliber, but it's certainly still in circulation, and reliable. "I'll need a permit for a concealed carry. I don't have a badge any more, and here I'm a nobody. The last thing I need is to be arrested for something like that."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

He notes the examination, and sighs inwardly. He's aware she'll need some more practical experience in his world to keep from looking over things like modern stoplights and microwaves as if they were fascinating new creations. On the other hand he can see that one thorough look is all she needs for anything before accepting it as familiar, which means she'll adapt quickly enough to suit his needs.

The gun is picked up and glanced over briefly, but it is only a cursory inspection. "You may want to come up with a rough backstory, for practical purposes. It shouldn't come up right away, though." He writes the new name and year of birth on a scrap of paper, not entirely trusting his memory in the midst of so many trains of thought. "Are you up for... stealth work?" He's not entirely certain how to put that, but it is the aspect of what he does he's having the hardest time compensating for. Not that he intends for her to borrow his cloak, of course.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra would make for a rather short Shadow anyways, but she wouldn't be the first woman to abscond with his cloak and hat...

The gun is very well cared for, clean, and lubricated. It has a few scrapes here and there from occasionally rough handling, but it's otherwise in pristine shape. Compared to his automatics, if feels like a feather in his hands, but with the right aim, it more than makes up for the lesser firepower. Besides, it's elegantly easy for her to conceal on her person.

"Certainly." The answer to his inquiry is quick. She makes a mental note to purchase some softer soled shoes, as her usually quiet, Chinese slippers would be horribly out of place in any setting that would need 'Helen'. Already, she's setting together a rough back story for the new identity in the back of her mind, while she's committing his file on the drug ring to memory.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

That's the sort of mental image The Shadow refuses to entertain, even if it did make a pulp cover once before.

He might suggest a larger caliber, later, but he knows all too well how attached one can get to what's been proven a reliable weapon in battle after battle. There was another man from a more modern year in the Nexus with whom he had just such a conversation, and was surprised to find him using very nearly the same model .45's he's relied on for fifty years. it was a reassuring revelation.

"My network has served me well, but there's always information I find too risky to send them after." He frowns, and his displeasure at having to send even someone as well trusted as her is clear. "I don't want to put you into excessive danger, but the kids I have working undercover can't seem to get at the higher eschelons. I've worked out their base of operations, but I hesitate to send anyone else to scope the place out."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra would just look frumpy anyways.

For the first time in their conversation, Myra pauses, looks up at The Shadow, and blinks with a mildly surprised look on her face. It's not the gravity of it, but the level of work that he's asking her to perform that has given her pause. Something he would normally set his agents to the side for, and do himself, he is asking her to perform.

"If you have a layout of any sort of their base, it'll help me get around more efficiently." The surprise on her face is gone now, replaced by a grave determination. This is the true Agent Reldon...or Agent Menz as she will soon be called. The light-heartedness is gone, packed away to leave only the training and efficiency of a Bureau agent. "I can keep an eye out for anything new. Who and what are your targets?"

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

That he is displeased at having to send out anyone to do this work is abundantly clear. His scowl only increases by the moment. He has been sorting through the papers all this time, drawing out other necessary scraps of information and gathering them in his left hand, but he pauses as she completes her questions. "I think they're about to move their base, which they do frequently to dodge detection. If I can just find where they're planning to move it to in advance, I can tip off the police and let them handle the mess." Under better circumstances, of course, he would be the one to rout them himself with a proper cordon of agents. That option has been dismissed. He is willing to let the police handle the shoot-out that's likely to ensue, but not willing to throw his agents into that fight if he can't be there to personally back them up. "Some will escape, and lie low for a while, and start up again later, but I should be on my feet again by then."

The Shadow scowls at the papers in hand so fiercely it is almost a surprise they do not burst into flame. From where she sits, Myra can see pasted together descriptions of several men, with photographs paperclipped to the edges. He has yet to hand them over, however. "I found them once. I can find them again. I shouldn't send you to do my dirty work. It... will just have to wait..." He begins a sigh that sends him coughing, and nearly drops the papers.

It isn't the injuries that's the worst pain of this situation, for him.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra can do little else besides watch with a grave look upon her face, and catches herself feeling something almost kin to pity at the sight of The Shadow. He deserved every ounce of this victory, and here he was being forced to hand it over. It would feel like a failure, and to Myra's knowledge, The Shadow never failed.

As his coughs start to subside, she pours a little more tea into his cup, but not enough to chance spilling if he decides to drink and another fit seizes him.

She sets the teakettle down, and her hand lays on her gun, picking it up along with her magazine, and holding them in her hands. Once he finishes coughing, she speaks.

"Whatever needs to get done, Chief, you just say the word." Quietly, without any sort of ceremony she puts the slide back into the gun and holsters it. There is no hidden meaning behind the action, she's simply busying her hands for a moment. "If it suits you, once they're on the run we can try to keep on their tails until you're set."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

With an ending sound that is nearly a snarl, he thrusts the pages at her. The coughing has left him slightly paler from pain, and he's quick to reach for his refilled cup. The Shadow settles back in his seat wearily, with all the air of a man defeated.

"No..." He takes a swallow of tea, wheezing as he recovers. "No. This is more important than my ego." His tone shows a hint of bitterness, but it's quick to fade. In the grander scheme of things, he is overcoming his pride for the sake of the work, which he recognizes as bigger than himself. There is no failure here, even if he may see it as such.

"It's just spy work, but it's... very risky spywork. I need you to listen, and use a recording device." She may be quite impressed when she sees how tiny recording devices have become. "Just collect as much information as you can, hopefully some of it about the move. I'll get it into the hands of the police. But... it's not an easy place to get into, and things could go sour." In the pages he's given her are profiles of several men, two of whom seem to have pre-existing police records, and photos of a warehouse district from above, as if taken by plane. There is a sheet of thin plastic overlaying the photos, with various notes drawn on them, mapping out the probable interior layout. Evidently he's not quite sure which of three buildings it is, and has had to make educated guesses at the insides. Being unable to visit firsthand has robbed him of the thoroughness of research he'd like.

The Shadow watches her from over his tea, still catching his breath. His expression is almost sullen, and the dim interior lighting throws stark shadows across his features. He is a brooding, unhappy figure.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

She nods as she takes the pages, and puts the names with the faces, and takes in the notes on each individual. Once she finishes, she moves on to the map, nodding as The Shadow speaks. Spy work is what she lives for after all, and while this mission has hazards she knows she's never dealt with before, it's still a facet of her forte. She won't be so easily concealed behind a mask, she'll need to summon every skill at stealth at her command, but she's had to sneak through small, cramped, lit underground passages many times without being detected, she hopes she's up for the challenge of a warehouse.

"Does there seem to be any specific head of power here? Or are they all about on the same tier?" Status might have a bearing on the amount of people around them, and also the types of conversation she can try to capture.

Myra notes the dark features and feels a small pit open in her stomach. She's never seen him in such a mood, and it's rather unnerving, though she doesn't betray the feeling as she watches him.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The Shadow has a significant temper, although his agents are rarely exposed to it. Frequent meditation and the mellowing effects of time have dampened it greatly, to the point where it is usually no more than a flash of the eyes.
His damaged lung has deprived him of his daily meditations for more than a week now, and that which keeps him from the tempering practice is an additional source of frustration in itself. The situation has him enraged, in fact, but a long moment of brooding quiet over his tea seems to help him regain some of his usual composure.

"No, not that can be easily gotten at. The head of power is overseas, and that's a game for a later date." His tone is level now, with an effort. "They're all more or less the same authority, the ones you've got dossiers on there. There's a lot of levels, like a pyramid scheme, but illegal on every tier instead of just the top." She may not know what a pyramid scheme is, of course, or at least not by that term.

"Do you want to speak to the kids working the lower level, to give you a better idea of what you're up against? We have a day or two of leeway."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

The imagery of a pyramid gets her close enough to the concept behind the term.

"It would be helpful, yes." It would help her connect more with the generation also. She has no idea what kind of logic this age has brought with it, and it would help her figure out how someone might react to discovering her, dictating her own action in the situation. "It would help establish the Menz identity as well, but I would like to hear from them what the organization is like."

A day or two. She's getting a clearer picture of how quickly she needs to learn about this world and adjust. Her exploration on the new streets of New York will need to be faster and more efficient than some wandering shopping trip. Talking to the kids will help her significantly with the culture as well.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

Their thoughts are moving very much along the same lines, and he finds himself making a mental list of the myriad things she needs to learn. Automatic transmission. Microwave ovens. ATMs... These pieces of technology have evolved gradually over the years, for him. He can't even remember the specific dates when some of them became a part of daily life. It's a struggle to work out what she is and isn't familiar with, even for him.

As if reading her thoughts, and with The Shadow one can never be quite sure that isn't the case, he gives a wheezing sigh and shakes his head. "I know it's too much too fast." He sips his tea and makes a further effort to bury the irritation that has been building for days. "I need to get out of the apartment. I don't think I realized until tonight how much it's driving me mad. I don't care if I have to pretend to be a feeble old man, I need an outing. If you're free tomorrow, I can give you some kind of whirlwind tour and lesson, and I'll arrange a meeting for you. Ms. Menz." He manages the faintest of smirks at that. Simply thinking of getting outside relieves some of the pressure of his frustration.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

It would be a good opportunity to free him from the walls of the apartment, hopefully without any incident. A walk shouldn't hurt him, she hopes.

"A walk and some air should be good for both of us." She shifts, the thought making her realize the apartment feels just a touch stuffy at the moment, most likely from drinking the hot tea. She hasn't seen daylight herself for a couple weeks again, as she's mostly been moving at night to help avoid any trackers while she's been moving out of her apartment. "It'll give me time to do some research and a quick trip to the Nexus so I don't look too out of place."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

It may be a slower walk than he'd like, and more riding in cabs or possibly driving himself, but it will put them both free of four walls.

The clausterphobia of the place she's sensing just may in some way be coming from him. It's a very spacious place, but the huge picture window that overlooks the city is of the sort that doesn't open, and the blinds are drawn for the night. No space is big enough to contain him comfortably for long, when he's used to moving freely about the city and from one apartment to another. The Shadow is feeling very thoroughly caged, and with restless mental powers, what The Shadow feels tends to rub off on those around him.

"Oh yes." He looks her over appraisingly. "Jeans would be fine, or slacks... or a dress, but it'd have to be a modern one. And you don't want to see how short the skirts go these days." In so many ways he has moved with the times, but that comment marks him as a very old-fashioned man indeed. "What time, tomorrow?" Should she look closely, although he tends to discourage that, he has not slept for a while. At least half a night's sleep might be in order for them both, first.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

"How does 9AM sound?" Most shops open around then back home, she imagines they either open earlier or never close. Myra would probably love the novelty of a 24hr Corner Convenience store. She does the math and it's not too late, it allows at least a good night's sleep and then some if one went to bed promptly. Making a quick hop to the Nexus would hopefully only eat up a few precious hours of sleep, but she'd learned the stores there hardly ever closed, and the library was always open.

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

The Shadow has not gone to be promptly since he was ten years old, but his injury has been forcing him to catch sleep at fairly regular intervals. There is nothing like mild oxygen deprivation for wearing one out. He nods, and reaches for the PINpoint as it softly beeps. His earlier fit of anger has passed, or at least been forcibly stifled, and he seems himself again. "I'll be ready, and you can come here. If anyone asks, I'll say you're a niece or something..." His tone is mildly distracted as he reads the text across the PINpoint's screen, but once he has read it he merely puts the device aside again. Burbank's informational reports come in fits and spurts, feeding him in pieces what would ordinarily be saved for a batch report over the phone.

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

Myra nods and as he picks up the PINpoint, she fetches her emptied cup, leaving the remainder of the teapot for The Shadow to finish. She washes the cup and then puts it back in its cupboard before picking up her teacake and watching him from just inside the kitchen area.

"I'll only be keeping us up later, and I have some errands to run." She gives a small smile as she returns to the coffee table and picks up her own PINpoint. "I'll message you in the morning, right before I come over."

[evillurks.livejournal.com]

((I'm sorry, I quite literally fell offline and it wouldn't let me back on, last night.))

He notes her bustling about in preparation to leave with mixed feelings. It's been so good to just visit, to speak to someone outside his own mind and sort out a detail that's been preying on his mind. On the other hand, it's been a while since he slept, at least by his body's current demands. His work is not quite wrapped up for the evening yet, either.

"You know my hours." He waves a hand, and smiles very faintly. "But good night, and I'll see you in the morning, Miss Menz."

[myra-reldon.livejournal.com]

((No worries, I had not anticipated being away from the computer tonight.))

"I'll be seeing you in the morning, Chief." With a gentle smile, she activated the PINpoint and returned home long enough to drop of her teacake.