Jibril, looking at Charles almost apologetically, says "I do not think that a short visit will do us any harm if the madam believes it would be of value. Enshallah, we will still be back to the Church before the others - they are travelling all the way to Harlem and back, after all. It would be a better use of our time than simply waiting," he continues, seeing the worry on Charles' face grow even deeper. "And think we can safely assume the this Medical Board will be less dangerous than our previous stop, no? I promise I will make no rash decisions while we are there, masbut?"
Charles sighs, perches his spectacles back upon the bridge of his nose, and looks out the window as if he expects knife-wielding butchers to leap out of thin air.
"Very well", he says, crestfallen. He gathers his notes and makes his way out of the cab, following behind Miriam and Jibril. As he departs from the vehicle, he continually looks about, his eyes wide with fear. The wind whips and blows some strands of his thin, white air frantically, heightening his frenzied and wild look...
*Miriam sweeps into the lobby, trying to look entirely like she belongs there. She scans about for a desk... or even better a sign pointing toward the archives or file room or some such.*
Charles follows Miriam, fumbling his notepad and nearly dropping it. He manages to catch it before it hits the floor, but that action spills out several score papers, which spread all over the smooth floor as if they have minds of their own. Charles drops to his knees and begins scuttling along, nabbing papers here and there as he can.
He smiles sheepishly, apologetically, to Miriam...
Jibril feels a bit badly for the older man, and helps him gather his papers back together. As they rise and follow Miriam, Jibril figures he hould at least try to take Charles' mind of the event of the past two days a little. "Abi, you run a shop, is that right? Is that what you have always done?"
"Abi" = "my father," the equivalent of "sir" when speaking to someone older than oneself.
Jibril feels a bit badly for the older man, and helps him gather his papers back together. As they rise and follow Miriam, Jibril figures he hould at least try to take Charles' mind of the event of the past two days a little. "Abi, you run a shop, is that right? Is that what you have always done?"
Charles thanks Jibril several times while they are picking up the papers and seems slightly taken aback when the young artist asks about him - not out of any sense of privacy, but rather out of surprise! 'Who in the world would want to know anything about me?!?', he wonders, incrediously...
"Ah...em, yes, I do run a shop and have done so since I retired from the Army. I was in the military for several years and worked primarily as a translator... I seem to have an affinity for languages, cultures, history and research - those blend well in the eyes of the Army for those 'posts abroad', as they say." Charles grins slightly, but he seems terribly awkward while talking about himself.
Jibril nods, smiling a little. "I take it, then, that al-Fohs'ha* is one of the languages to which you have an affinity? I noticed you face turn red when I sulted that dog of an importer, Emerson. I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was anyone there who would understand me...I was not trying to offend you, you understand, yes?"
Jibril nods, smiling a little. "I take it, then, that al-Fohs'ha* is one of the languages to which you have an affinity? I noticed you face turn red when I sulted that dog of an importer, Emerson. I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was anyone there who would understand me...I was not trying to offend you, you understand, yes?"
Charles nods, "It is, although I must admit that my use of it has waxed over the years. I am a bit rusty. Your company has renewed my passion for it however! I simply must begin speaking it again!"
OOC: Sounds like it is time for you to give me a few private lessons, Maerdwyn! Interested? If so - head over to the OOC thread and begin teaching!
The three men walk down a short alley into a 20 foot square court. The only doors from the court are those of Ju-Ju House and the back door to a abandoned shop.
Crumbling tenements surround the court and many windows overlook the place. The Ju-Ju House shop-front consists of a display window and a glass door. Both are curtained. The display window contains pieces of African art.
As you enter, you see that the shop itself is only a mere fifteen by twenty feet and it has a oppressive uneasy feel. The place is dirty, dusty, and piled with African tribal artifacts and bric-a-brac-devil mask, leather drums, stuffed model giraffes, carved wildebeasts, ivory warthogs, dull hand weapons intended for display, and so on.
There are two other people in the shop as you enter. A young black man sits in a chair by the door. A dirty old hat is placed over his face as he leans back in the chair. He looks to be asleep. Over behind a shop counter is a old balding black man in a brown suit with a tie and vest. He smiles as you enter and says. "Welcome gentlemen, come in from the cold.". At Uly's request for help he turns his attention to him. "Yes Sir, how can I help you?"
William walks around and look for the knife. After a few moments he finds it hanging on a wall. As he picks it up and tests it, I is apparent that the blade is very dull and the weapon itself is only ment for display.
Father O'Malley shivers as he steps in the shop. The cold perhaps? Looking around he can tell that certain fetishes in the shop are traditional components of African ritual magic.
Jack:
Jack scans the room looking for anything out of the ordinary. As he walks around he feels something under his foot. Bending down he finds a bloody human tooth. The blood is still fresh.
