undergrounds | Dear Eliza [for Clara, Aradia, Liam, and Mab]

"That would be wonderful!" What luck for her and Aradia. "That should narrow our line of searching quite a bit! Hopefully it's a place where he sticks out like a sore thumb."

Maybe he even still has his sweater! It sounds too cute to throw away.

Clara took the note after a moment's pause to concentrate enough to hold the note. When she opens it and reads the address, the way her nose scrunched up at the location said it all: It was in a place she was not comfortable with for some reason but she still looked optimistic. It wasn't too far from safe territory so if anything happened, they could phase back for safety. She showed it to Aradia in hopes of getting her opinion on the place since the vampires there didn't exactly try to hide its nests.

Either way these ghosts are on the case. Electrical appliances and people who like being warm, fear for yourselves.

She peers over Clara's shoulder while the latter holds the note - it's easier that way, with how bad her manifesting is and oh, she knows that patch of town. Or she knows it's reputation back when she was alive, since she's not entirely sure how much has changed. Clara gets a wince, and the sight of Aradia struggling to come up with something positive about the location for the sake of a possibly-still-listening Faust. "At least we're safer then most would be?"

Ghosts don't have blood, so clearly they'll be useless to vampires and therefor not worth notice. It'd make sense, even if vampires are also one of the few things perfectly capable of seeing them. Welp.

Normally she'd immediately dash off now that she has a goal, but that feels... awkward, in a situation like this. So instead she waits, picking through words in her head for what to say, eventually settling on an awkward smile for Faust. "I can't really promise we'll find him, but... hopefully we will! Or at least find something to help, at least. The address definitely helps though."

"Thank you again," said Faust, who thankfully could not hear Clara's comments about sweaters. "Truly." And if he did get his hands on that shrinking, shirking relative of Eliza's, why, God help him.

Should Clara and Aradia head over to the address, they'd find a run-down apartment building in Islington, which looked as though it housed perhaps seven occupants at a maximum. The shrubbery looked like it was dying -- if, that is, it wasn't already dead. The mailbox was overstuffed, but when a woman came out of the front door, she shoved a letter or two into one of the slots.

"Keep telling them that weird German guy doesn't live here any more. Ought to just march down Bachman myself and shove these in his face. No respect for people's time."

Confident that a warm and welcoming and totally non-traumatising family reunion between the uncle and nephew-in-law is close at hand, off she and Aradia went.

It didn't take long for them to track the address down and she almost wishes it wasn't that easy. This place gave Clara the spooks thanks to its appearance and its location, making her leery as she and Aradia made their way to the apartment complex. It has seen better days. Maybe when the dinosaurs still roamed the earth, perhaps.

Before she can ask Aradia if she sees anything of interest, Clara jumped at the sudden appearance of the angry woman bursting out of the front door. She composes herself long enough to catch snippets of the angry rant and of course it won't be that easy for them.

"Bachman..." She tried to recall where, or who, that is and it is coming up a blank for her. Maybe the letters will be of interest to them, possibly overdue bills or not. "Aradia-- Do you know where or what Bachman is?"

Aradia, meanwhile, stays relatively chipper on the way through Islington. There's rarely an excuse for her to venture this far past the Thames, so there's a fair share of wide-eyed staring and random observation - how some buildings feel like they're barely standing, idle musings on the few signs of obvious vampire-dom around, that sort of thing. It's best to make the most of the situation, right?

Her prattling trails off when they arrive, as the woman's arrival startles her just as much as it does Clara. The all-too-familiar sound of a lamppost's light dying across the street is proof of that, even if Aradia herself scrambles to maintain visual composure, damnit not again. Oops. "Doesn't ring a bell, honestly. Maybe the letters could help?"

Now's not the time to regret sleeping through highschool classes. Or have considerations for privacy, apparently, if her immediate darting over to the mailbox is any indication. If her hands co-operate long enough, she's got ideas of prying out a letter or two to see the address. "O-or one of us could try talking to that lady, maybe she's one of the ones who can hear...?"

One or two of the letters were addressed to an M. Heinemann, though these were battered and one of them had an angry screed written on them in spidery script about how the old guy had moved, so why did they keep delivering his letters to her address? She'd told them again and again that he'd gone and it escaped her why they couldn't just --

"Well, I say," said a mustachioed, red-headed man with a camera about his neck. He was dressed in what looked like safari clothes, with a pair of binoculars around his neck. "Ghosts! After all this time searching, and the end up on my front doorstep! So to speak. Ha ha!"

He had a rather large, gleaming pair of teeth that did not look entirely real.

This is not what she expected at all; someone spotting them while they were here. Oh! Why? How? Who?

Clara looks at Aradia with an apologetic look on her face as if to say, I'm sorry for anything that may happen next here. I really am sorry for it.

"Um-- Hello there." She gives a polite smile, a bit nervous but doing her best to come across as affable. Might as well try her best to be friendly to the person who can apparently see them. Judging from his teeth he could be just a really old vampire considering where they are. Maybe. He could also be a witch with poor dental hygiene.

What she's definitely hoping from him is that he's around these parts and they can get information for Faust's missing relative. "I'm Clara and this is my friend. We're, ah, looking for someone who used to be here. We mean no harm. Isn't that so?"

On one hand, the stranger looks completely harmless. On the other, he also looks completely ridiculous.

Aradia looks up from the letters, staring in disbelief at the newcomer and biting back her first idea for a reply for Clara's sake. She doubts he's as friendly as Clara wants to believe, truth be told, as people who go out searching for ghosts usually don't mean well - but with an outfit like that it's hard for her to take him seriously. Who'd even dress like that if they wanted to trick people, honestly.

But if Clara wanted to ask him questions, then... it couldn't hurt to play along. It might even work out in their favour. "And I'm Aradia. We're just trying to find some stuff out, really, but it's pretty hard for ghosts like us."

There's a pause, as Aradia considers what the man said and winces when something occurs to her. "Sorry if this was your mailbox or something. I should've asked first."

"Find stuff out?" This seemed to give the stranger pause. "Would you say that you're on an expedition?"

From the eager way he leaned forward, bushy moustache twitching, he hoped that this was indeed the case. "No harm done, Aradia my girl! You can call me Cedric! Cedric Boysenberry, Esq.! This is not my mailbox! Although it might -- no, no. I say, since we're both here in the neighborhood, and we're both explorers of a sort, perhaps I could help you out! What is it that you're investigating, pray tell?"

Thank goodness it isn't his mailbox. She didn't want her to get in trouble in vampire territory. The information she'll find there will no doubt give them a little clue about the man they're looking for. Better than nothing, right?

Definitely after this. It's a good thing we're intangible, Clara can't help but think as she 'hops' back when he moves closer. No worry of awkward contact oh no.

"Um-- We're simply looking for an acquaintance of ours. There's urgent news that concerns him that we need to tell him." What she's doing isn't lying to a man. Oh no. It's telling the truth in a rather obscure and vague way. That's the truth, friend. It's the only possible way to keep a straight face without looking guilty. "It seems he isn't here anymore though! Looks like he forgot to send us his address when he moved."

How he knows two lady ghosts and how he's expected to inform them of his move is a little bit of a stretch but anything is possible when someone is (un)dead.

Aradia can't quite fight down a giggle at Clara's creative usage of the truth, though she can't really blame her. Telling the outright truth in a situation like this would probably end poorly, especially given how little information the two actually have. But perhaps, what's worse is the younger ghost's shock is quickly giving way to enthusiasm again, barely caring when Cedric cheerfully invades their personal space. It is still somewhat of an adventure, and she did miss exploring things... oh dear.

"We don't know where to start other then here, unfortunately! So I guess that kind of makes it an expedition?" And there goes the beginnings of a grin, as her tension slowly bleeds away. Shenanigans: Aradia's one true weakness. "But if you know anything that'd help, it'd really be appreciated. Er, Mr. Cedric. Sir."

The man's name gets awkwardly tacked on as an afterthought, Aradia growing distracted over trying to maintain her part of the conversation while hopefully staying tangible enough to hold the letters - which is harder then it looks, especially after the lonely month she had in July. Manifesting was never her strong point.

"Goodness gracious! Any clues, then? I assume those letters are for your friend?" Cedric was getting excited now (he was always excited) at the thought of lending a hand to two ghost ladies in need.

"Why, I haven't been in the area long, but I could surely help you two look!" Windfall from an old departed aunt, perhaps? Either way, Cedric seemed willing to help. His binoculars jangled about his neck as if in agreement.

There are times she can be honest. There are also times she can be just like anyone else: Sneaky when she needs to be, effective when the time is right. Thank goodness luck is on their side today.

"They are! We thought it'll give us a clue to where he is now. They eeem to be only bills and notices." She thinks. Clara looks over at Aradia for clarification over her statement but she believes there's a good chance it's overdue bills and final notices. She's seen that angry red ink and stamp across the paper many times when still dealing with utility rates in her apartment.

At the very least the papers should give them his full name. That'll give them an idea of Mrs. Eliza's possible name itself if he's from her father's side.

"If it isn't too much of a bother to you sir-- Have you seen him? He would have been noticeable in this part of town. Germanic features. Around in his... mid to late 50s or so." A guess from what she remembers of the picture of Eliza when she was in Faust's office, adding a few years here and there.

Dear Eliza [for Clara, Aradia, Liam, and Mab]

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