Monroe set her knife and fork down on her empty plate, side by side. It did wonders, having hit the spot, and her energy renewed.

"No," her head shook, "but I think finding Meredith first will be the easier task. We know she works at the haberdashery, works with that guard she struck down's sister there. She cannot hide in a town that knows her well. I saw how the people smiled at her when she walked past, while you and I were given polite greetings." She downed the rest of her drink, feeling the slight touch of a buzz. It would be several more drinks before she became sloppy, and Monroe only went so far at one place in all of Altalusia.

The Knoll. Home, where she could not wait to return to but had her own personal doubts she had to work through before setting foot back in Astenvale.

"There's a connection to all of this." Monroe's voice trailed, brows furrowing with thought.

After a moment, she pushed back her chair and stood.

"You finished your drink?"
 
“I know where she is.” Which wasn’t true – but near enough.

Looked to the drink like that might excuse him speaking further. He was finished alright. Onegulped the two mouthfuls and near coughed some of it back up. But it held, and so would he. Pressed thumbnail to top of his fingers – sensation delayed, skin numbed. Far as drinking went, this was the shallow end. But sometimes numb was enough.

No one could hide. Not forever. Sometimes it took a day, sometimes it took three months. But people weren’t that difficult to find.

Wondered why she didn’t kill the guard and blame all this bullshit on Monroe and Trevor. Seemed the thing to do. What he would’ve done, had he been Meredith. But he wasn’t even that good at being Trevor some days – so what the fuck did he know?

Sleeve wiped the foam from his lip and brought the smoke back to his nose. Tongue clicked. Had to be fire.

“Come on.”

Ass up, fists opening and closing. Aware enough.
 
Her brows shot up with surprise and impress, but there was little to do other than following the man that claimed he knew where Meredith was. The woman had lead them to the scene of the crime and had ran from it all the same, yet another thing that did not add up.

Trevor was an odd sort, but capable enough that he didn't get on her nerves. She was loathe to think them both similar.

"I have to ask," she piped up once they were a few minutes into their walk, dodging and weaving through the crowded market still going on as if one of their best and prized merchants was not dead, "just how you think you know where Meredith is?"

Had he seen something? Something he did not disclose to Monroe? Perhaps the idea flared a little uproar within her at the idea of him not trusting her, but Monroe had to admit she would of been guilty of the same thing. Had done so many a time, in order to keep from engaging with others.
 
Bobbed and weaved with confidence of people who knew where they were going. But if one paid attention, they’d also notice, they weren’t exactly moving in a straight line. Because he never really knew – it just felt right. But these days – it’s hard to know what came from knowing, and what he affected by doing.

The only thing he knew is that they were getting closer. Because each step felt correct compared to the one before.

“People are…” Her question was reasonable. Just not one he’d answer. “Easy to find.”

Just like he knew it was another left up ahead. Yellow would tell him when to stop. Never questioned. Just worked with it. Explaining it felt…uncomfortable.

Luckily, he was full of shit.

“Got a nose for these things.”
 
Monroe rolled her eyes, but it had been a mistake to take her eyes off of him for even a fraction of a second. His route was not as straight cut as she would have moved. There was no grace like a serpentine path, but the jagged and frantic steps as if he were forgetting where he was going every few feet or so.

But she did not question him. Oddly, he reminded her of the way her Dusker Knight worked. Saskia could get lost in the shadows, but they always led her true.

She pursed her lips, letting Trevor take the lead.

They turned the corner down a street of shoppes and the postal services, a lady stepping out from the latter with a large yellow box. "I will see you home for supper!" She called back into the shop, pausing at the door before stepping onto the street before Monroe and Trevor.

"How should we approach this? Block her exits? Pull her away for questioning?" She drawled, as if merely throwing out ideas for the sake of trying to decipher what was going on. Trevor didn't really elaborate on where they were going, or what he was looking for.
 
A fucking post office?

If he’d twonked a guy half to death and set a house on fire, he’d be well on his way out of the city. Out of the North. Ilica even. Really depends on who got knocked. But the pull had led him here. It wasn’t his job to always understand. He only needed to act on the sign given or let it go. And he wasn’t letting this one go.

Wasn’t sure if barging in was the play. Animals, even lil’ ones, got dangerous when cornered. Made a scene. And the problem with public spaces was the public. He couldn’t risk someone helping Meredith get away cause they’d known her for years. What was the word of a bum and some random angry girl worth compared to that?

„I think we just grab her...“ Outside. But the word never made it out.

The door opened and he knew who they were here to see. Wasn't a Meredith opening the door. It was one of the Evans brothers. Always found the name funny – none of them were related, and the original brothers had died back in the siege of Garth, some ten years back. But the name stuck.

Couldn't recall the fucker's name, only that he'd always pull a blade out of thin air, or his ass. Never could nail it down. Meant the tall brownhair was likely armed still. Gotten some salt at the temple since last Trevor'd seen the man – guess business was good. Fucker was still alive, after all.

„Evans!“ Called out just to know he wasn't seeing things. Fingers twitching at the belt told him enough. „A word.“

Didn't bother showing he was unarmed. Was never his hands people worried about.

Wasn't sure the other man remembered him.

If they had Meredith, this wasn't going to be clean.

„He's quick with a knife.“ Quiet, so only Monroe could hear.
 
Monroe bumped into Trevor by accident, a scowl crossing her expression when she thought he would have kept walking, but instead he called out a name. She noted the recognition he used in his voice, and Monroe loomed closely to get a better read of the situation.

"He's quick with a knife." Her hand smoothly palmed one of her daggers, transferring it to her opposite hand before going to unsheathe another dagger from it's hold.

Evans stepped into both Trevor and Monroe's line of vision. He had an ugly scowl on his face seeing Trevor, and Monroe could see the thoughts tumbling around in his head as Evans tried to piece together who the fuck Trevor even was. Monroe was still figuring that one out herself.

"Can I help you?" Words spoken on a tone that held no warmth. No recognition from him, then, but instantly on the defensive.

His eyes moved past Trevor, looking to Monroe who had schooled her face into something unreadable by those that did not know her. Her casual posture was not a show of not being prepared, but a nonchalant stance that readied her to throw her dagger from behind Trevor, aimed to incapacitate instead of kill.

"Do you remember which hand he favours?" Monroe asked, her face barely moving as she murmured softly. If she knew, then she could prepare. Find the angle to pull off the perfect trajectory to the point that would render Evans unable to be so quick with a knife.
 
Trevor remembered the fucker throwing a knife with his bare foot once. And as he elbowed Monroe with his left, he wasn't sure it made a difference – but the guy did always eat lefthanded.

Jerry? Johnny? Trevor knew it was one of those common J ones – but it had been some time. Not like it mattered, they weren’t here to reminisce – they were here for Meredith. Not like he could play it off as a mistake. Evans only meant one thing, this far North.

“We’re here for the girl.” Didn’t explain who. The other guy knew.

And a smile as he wondered.

“Thump still with you?” The only Evans whose name he bothered remembering.
 
Monroe moved, a casual pace that had her leaning against the other side of the door frame where she could conceal the dagger in her hand.

"What girl?" He huffed, and as his hand moved towards underneath his cloak, Monroe snorted. It distracted him, making the Evans man stare at her with confusion. "There's many girls, why don'tya be more spa-cif—"

He paused, eyes now darting back to Trevor.

"I don... don't know who you are talking about." His hand curled, and Monroe heaved a short and shallow sigh before whipping her dagger through the air. All she needed was his breath, which she yielded from him as his eyes flicked to his left where Monroe's dagger stuck into the wooden post beside him. With her hand now free, she balled it into a fist and held that breath. Her body ached, borrowing the element of air for this purpose.

"Honestly, you're a shit liar." Monroe rolled her wrist, as if she was pulling on a string that was his air. She wound it once more for the right effect. "Drop it."

The Knight sounded as if she were speaking to a pup, once still in need of training.

The knife he had reached for clattered to the floor.
 
Squinted at how easily the knife dropped. Wasn't like the guy to knife the ground instead of your throat. But then he noticed it, the hitch in breath. Monroe was shroudshitting again. Guess that meant the situation was under control. Evans wasn't gonna run off without his breath. Wasn't sure how he'd answer any questions either – but eh, at least he stop with the twitchy bullshit. Win some, lose some.

Moved over to step on the dropped knife. Tried to pull out the knife Monroe had dug into the post, but couldn't. Gave another tug. Stubborn. Ahhh. Suppose it liked where it was.

Looked to „Jimmy?“ and squinted at the guy, but no response came. Right, not a Jimmy.

„Meredith. Hoof. Hook. Thump.“ Any one would do really.

„If I'm the nice one here, you're fucked.“ Laughed, because shit was funny. „So I'd talk, once she lets you.“

Nodded to Monroe.

Not how he would've handled it, but fuck it – it was handled.
 
"Go on, don't be shy. Drop the other knife I know you have."

Because one would never do. Even Monroe had some smaller blades hidden on her person. She watched as the man turned red in the face, struggling for breath but still moved to take out the blade hidden in his boot. Only when Trevor secured it did Monroe ease on releasing her hold on the shroud. It was best to give back the air slowly, as if releasing pressure, but she was in the mood to let the man splutter and gasp before being able to compose himself.

It gave Monroe and Trevor time to step further into the post office.

There was no attendant behind the desk, but a curtain sectioned off the front room to whatever backroom awaited.

"We only wish to talk to Meredith. Ensure she is alright after the incident this morning." The Knight spoke, her voice a level of calmness that was honed to not give away anything else. "We have a suspect to track down, and she is our guide." It was best to resort to maintaining an alliance with the vegetarian, even if Monroe's suspicions of her was weighing heavier with doubt.

"Incident... the fire? She said a firewielder and a man torched the place..." He stared between them too, stared at Monroe the longest when he began to wonder if she was the firewielder or not.
 
Man and a firewield..? Oh. Oh!

Spirited away the second knife. Looked real sharp – if it wasn't coated with whateverthefuck, could've made a fine fishknife.

Sure, Monroe was a firepoker and a firechoker – suppose that counted as wielding from the right angle. Words were funny like that. So Meredith had chosen to blame it on them after all. Fair enough. Least she had a good head on her shoulders. Wasn't sure hiding out with...a Jessie? Naah, not a Jessie. The Evans were not known for nice shit, so he was surprised. He sure as shit wouldn't hide with 'em. But, maybe, one of 'em was sweet on Meredith. Maybe this guy.

„She's safe – Grump over here won't do any shroudshit on her.“ Thought about Tapaning the... Jeremy?... right in the temple, but he was Meredithsized. Would only piss the fucker off.

„And I don't care what the job is.“ Nodded to the other guy. „So long as no one else gets hurt.“
 
„She's safe – Grump over here won't do any shroudshit on her.“

"Hey!" Monroe warned, scowling at him, but could do nothing more than that for the man was speaking truths. It was... a long time since she heard someone make a jest of her being a grump.

"We need to make sure Meredith is alright. So, please, show us where she is?" Monroe sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.

The Evans Something looked between the two, appalled and rightly so, and shook his head after a moment of debating internally. "Fuckers..." He muttered, turning around and disappearing behind the curtain of cloth. Monroe looked to Trevor and shrugged, sweeping an arm to the side for him to go first.

"After you."

She curled a fist around her knife stuck in the post and pulled it free.

The man, half nameless, led them down a narrow hall that smelled of old parchment and potent ink. There was barely any light, perhaps some shroudweaving done to replicate light without the destruction a small flame could do if overturned, but onwards Monroe and Trevor followed the weaponless man. At long last, they reached a room out the back.

Meredith, eyes wide with alarm, jolted from the bed the moment she spied Trevor and Monroe.

"They're here!" She cried out, eyes looking to the hall behind them all.

And down the hall, near the curtain they had come through, Monroe heard it.

Hooves.

"It's a fucking satyr." She snarled, and gave chase.
 
Fucking Monroe....all muscle, no patience. Satya knew he wasn't letting the hooffucker get away, so he acted quicker than thought. Small missteps turned advantage for the knight. He'd have to trust her to catch up to Hoof. Cause he wasn't leaving Meredith now that they'd finally caught up.

Door to the post office might find itself slammed too hard, struggling to open. Hoof pressed onto the curtain could slip, buying seconds, buying steps. All it really took was a couple moments stacked and then Monroe could anchor them with the same shroudshit she'd already pulled on...Jason?

His own ass leaned on the wall, not letting the two out of his sight.

Monroe could handle this. The alternative was just killing the guy, and he'd rather do that when there was no one else around.

„Take your seats.“ Wasn't really a request.
 
Monroe moved quickly, her feet falling with sureness as she gave chase.

Quick and nimble, she was gaining on the satyr whom only ran into impediments on their way to escape. Lastly, the door leading to the street seemed to be stuck, thus trapping the guilty where they stood.

Daggers held in each hand, Monroe considered her options.

The Knightly thing to do was to give them a chance to surrender, but it had been a long while since she donned her armour. She could throw a blade into the hand braced against the wooden door, stubbornly stuck in it's place and would not relent to opening.

She loosed one either way, watching it slice through air and space before sticking into the wooden door with an audible thump.

Monroe stared, the threat of her second dagger already poised. This was his chance to surrender.

"She told me to do it! Honest, honest! Please, I beg of you!" The satyr cowered before her, but the fucking thing had run from her. What says they wouldn't do the same again, given the chance?

Monroe reached for the shroud, feeling it's waning connection as her own exhaustion was catching up to her. She was near spent, having fought against the fire for too long. "Get down on the floor." And by the fucking moons was she glad to see the idiot do as she says without delay. Perhaps it was the stern scowl she seemed to perpetually wear.

Meanwhile, Meredith sat frozen and stared at Trevor.

"You've got it all wrong, you know? I am innocent. She won't see it that way. It was her, with the fire. The Knight burned the entire house down to hide her tracks." There was something different to her voice. Sing-song, almost. Sweet.
 
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