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Westminster -- CLOSED TO FAOLAN

Lancelot is getting somewhat used to Night Council work, little by little. He's getting used to travelling to Westminster, checking in, reading reports and generally investigating things that are not quite mundane.

He's also getting used to Faolan. Faolan is a strange sort of person, varying on days between a surly sort of grumpiness and casual friendliness. Lancelot can't quite work out what to make of the man, and he suspects Faolan can't quite work out what to make of him in turn. So much as he insists that he is not used to things or feels he doesn't belong, Lancelot... well, Lancelot isn't exactly in a much better position. He's still learning, but he's learning quickly. He's already been promoted, after all, much to his own surprise. No, Faolan... Faolan is withdrawn, and perhaps the reality of it is that he's a hunter. Hunters are not, exactly, people who work in groups. Perhaps he just needs a little coaxing?

So it is that Lancelot arrives early, waiting outside for Faolan with two cups of coffee from a place up the road and two pastries. Something to help him wake up and perhaps bribe him into conversation.

b) Police & Guardian work -- OPEN

Adjusting to life as both a Community Support Officer and a Night Council Guardian has been easy enough in one aspect: both roles are investigative, and both roles are about upholding the law and protecting people.

So it is that on some days he can be found out and about Richmond and the surrounding areas, neatly dressed in his police uniform and fielding questions from tourists and generally lost people. It's especially busy at the moment with the rugby world cup, and they have a lot of drunks to carefully handle and crowd control to do, but Lancelot doesn't mind it. He's polite and easy going, but he's more than able to handle himself when necessary.

Of course, on the days he isn't there -- or even late at night after work -- Lancelot has his other job to think of. Dressed down into tidy, smart clothing in place of his uniform he heads out back and forth from Westminster investigating Night Council business. From the smallest lead to the biggest problem he does his best to keep on top of things. Moving on troublemakers, carefully dissuading people being too open with their magic or looking into bigger crimes. Lancelot has a good sense for danger, and he's both quick on his feet and strong. Much to the annoyance of people he's looking to apprehend.

c) Crime Scene -- OPEN

Lancelot has made it before the police, for which he's glad. It gives him time to find out what he needs and get away again, cover up as much evidence of non-human action as he can.

Which may prove difficult.

As he crouches down and studies the body the pallor of it finally sinks in. About as pale as you can get, and aside from the damage produced by the fight something else nags at him until he carefully reaches out and pushes aside her hair.

She's been bitten.

The question then is if she's already been turned, or if she's just been drained. Lancelot belatedly realises he's not sure if there's any way you can tell at this point. Vampires are dead, so he can't check for a heartbeat. Is there another test for vampirism?

He supposes he'll have to add it to his list of things to read up on.

d) Off Duty Coffee Shop-- OPEN

When Lancelot isn't running between jobs he still has another responsibility, of course. Lily. His white Samoyed is slowly getting more and more confident around people, and so he does his best to make sure he always has time to take her out and about to meet new people. The parks around London, the high streets in various places and along the river -- she's a very well travelled dog in that respect.

He's sitting outside despite the cloudy weather, eyeing the sky warily as he sips his coffee and Lily laps some water from a bowl. She looks up sharply as someone walks near and flicks her ears, trying to decide if she needs to alert Lancelot before he looks up and around himself.

"Don't worry, she won't bite. She's probably more afraid of you."

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Kenzi. Lancelot recognises that name from the list, the other name Sylvia hadn't been sure about. Well, he supposes this confirms this is the Nancy that's in the Shadow Coven with Abigail. He lets Lily go and she surges forward, fusses by Nancy's side as she sits down.

"You aren't worried it might happen again?" he prompts, frowning a little in concern. "I understand your relief, but... if it was done for a reason there may be a person out there you should be wary of. Your friend is only looking out for you."

As she speaks, Nancy makes sure to keep a hand on Lily, petting her and scratching under her chin just so.

"I hadn't thought of that," Nancy has to admit, frowning. "I try to keep my nose clean, as much as I can." Which was getting harder and harder every day now. "I was hoping it was just a one-off thing... But I can't think of anyone who'd have wanted to curse me in the first place." Anyone who's secrets she had wouldn't want to risk her spilling them now, would they?

She presses her lips together. "I know you are." Friend. He was her friend. Well, he'd bought her food and drinks, so she supposed that did make them friends. Funny, a hooker and a cop.

"I don't want revenge."

"And I am glad to hear it. Revenge has a habit of beginning a cycle that will not end. Yet all the same... I do think it is worth looking into it, just in case. If nothing else, it might help prevent the same thing happening to someone else.

"Has your friend Kenzi found anything?"

Any clue at all might hold hope, even the smallest thing. Lancelot isn't entirely sure if he has enough knowledge or resources to help, but... Well, he could try.

"I hate to admit it," she says, leaning back in her chair, "but you may have a point. As far as I know, she hasn't found anything. We don't really have anywhere to start." Redbright didn't know she existed, which would have been her first thought. Redbright knew her as Emma, the drunk from Abby's party. But that was it.

When the waiter stops by, Nancy orders herself a small espresso.

"Well," Lancelot begins, taking a thoughtful sip of his coffee. "The first thing, I suppose, is to work out who might not be entirely happy with you. Think back on who you've interacted with in the last couple of months. Don't focus on if the issue would be big enough to warrant such a thing, after all... if it was a big thing to you, then you'd have thought of it by now. It may seem more of an issue to them than to you."

He settles himself comfortably, thinking, eyes a little distant.

"Could it be a... client?" he ventures, delicately as he can.

Nancy considers. No one knows she's attached to Shadow Coven, or even Circle Midnight, other than those that are in on it. And the fae that had tried to help her with the curse. Eames would never have done such a thing to her. Nor Fagin, for all he stood to lose.

Yes, she robbed a dead vampire, but she was dead. It couldn't have been that.

"No clients- they've got too much to lose, and my job requires a lot of discretion.

"The only person I can think of- doesn't even know my real name."

"Would someone need your name for such a thing?"

He tilts his head questioningly, hesitates a moment -- fingers playing around his cup of coffee.

"Forgive me if the question is foolish, I have no personal experience in this, but... might there not be another way to tie such a curse to you? A personal item, or some-such?"

Although he supposes she would notice if something had gone missing, but -- perhaps something smaller? A cup she had touched, a lock of hair?

She considers this. "No- no, you're absolutely right." Which meant that it could be Redbright. Honestly, she was almost hoping it was. That way, at least, she could pin the woman to the wall for being a hypocrite. There was no way that curse was any sort of light magic. forcing someone into anything wasn't alright. And she knew that perhaps better than anyone else.

She sighs dramatically. "Fuck."

He winces sympathetically as she swears, lets out a slow sigh.

"If there's anything I can do to help..." he begins, "I will. Although it may be best if you... think a while, first. Crimes are more likely to be people you know, in my experience, than strangers. It is possible it was random, bad luck, but... not very likely."

"I don't think there's anything you can do," she said honestly. "I don't want you getting more involved than you have to be. I know there's already a lot of grey area, between the two of us." With her being a prostitute. And him not giving her a verbal warning, but giving her one all the same.

"But I appreciate it." The waiter stopped by with her coffee, and she thanked him with a small smile, accepting it. Pausing her petting of Lily, she reached into her purse and, once the waiter's back was turned, pulled out a flask and started diluting her coffee with vodka.

Lancelot lofts an eyebrow as she starts pouring vodka into her coffee, opts to say nothing rather than question if that is wise. Not a battle for today, at any rate.

"Grey areas don't bother me," he says instead, "my life is one big grey area, a little won't be in the way. Besides which, I'm an officer of the law and you have been wronged. It's my duty to try, if I can, to see that put to rights."

Considering their previous conversation? She's pleased he says nothing, and she caps her flask, placing it back in her purse in order to better give Lily the attention she deserves.

"Supernaturally wronged," she pointed out, though she isn't sure why. "so it's a bit more-" she makes a vague gesture, before picking up her coffee. "But your support is outstanding. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. You're a good friend, Lance."

He tilts his head at that, as if only partially agreeing -- ready to protest somewhat.

"Actually," he says, "supernatural wrongs are part of my jurisdiction too. Which means I can help, if you wanted me to. Although I'd understand if you didn't."

Shrugging a little he toys with his coffee, smile a touch rueful.

"I try not to flash my badge more than necessary, since... Well, people get nervous. Although personally I don't think I'm that frightening..."

He tilts his head playfully, smile twitching up to something more playful.

"Are they?" Nancy gave him a curious look, pausing in petting Lily for just a moment before she resumed once more.

"I completely understand. It's not you that's frightening, however, it's certainly this big fluffy pup," she looks endearingly at Lily.

"That's very true. She's a two-time heavyweight champion, and regularly eats criminals."

Lily, alleged heavyweight champion and eater of law breakers, fusses to push her face into Nancy's lap -- one paw lifting to rest on the edge of her chair as if she might clamber up any moment right onto the chair with her.

"But... it does mean I do have the resources to help."

"That's right, you do," Nancy agreed to the happy pup. "No, you stay down, you'll push me out of the seat, otherwise, and we can't have that, can we?" She didn't pause in her petting of Lily at all. "Yes, you stay down, you danger dog."

Taking one hand away from Lily, she picked up her coffee cup.

"Yes, but I do run in vastly different circles from you, even in our community."

"And how do you know what circles I run in?"

After all, Lancelot has never explicitly admitted he's Daybreak. He tilts his head curiously at her, sips his coffee thoughtfully.

"The law is somewhat above circles, though. It's illegal to kill someone like yourself regardless of coven, for example. Illegal for anyone to be turned by a were without permission. The laws are meant to protect people, not to punish."

She gives him a plain look. "You're a cop, and I run with the criminals." Almost immediately, her face falls and she places a hand out towards him. "I meant social circles. Not Circles." Though those, she figured, were also vastly different. She tended to assume that all supernatural beings were Daybreak, until proven otherwise. Not that she had anything against individual members of Daybreak.

She'd only wanted peace and safety.

"I know," she said. "Thank goodness for that. Only good thing that came from Barnet." She'd been there, trying to save the dying, regardless of their coven.

"You're assuming quite a bit about my social circles," Lancelot quips, and he jerks an eyebrow at her in amusement -- hands rubbing around his coffee cup idly. "I knew what you meant, but I think you'd equally be a little surprised about some of the trouble I've been in. What do you know about me?"

He tilts his head, curious, then offers her a tiny smile since he already knows the answer. She knows very little, she's never asked after all.

"You know I have a dog, that I know enough about less mundane things to recognise the terms you use, and that by day I work for the metropolitan police. I suppose I should be flattered that you assume I'm entirely innocent of getting in any trouble, but... you'd be wrong."

"Well, uhm-" She swallows, going for her coffee as she rolls her shoulders. He was right, she knew next to nothing about him, and he knew far, far too much about her.

And that was unacceptable. She was supposed to be hardly known, a shadow amidst all the other players in their worlds. But here was a cop that did know too much about her. Her hand on Lily stilled as she looked at him carefully.

But the hand only stilled for a moment. "People like me don't make a habit of being cops."

Lancelot studies her a moment intensely, considering her. Considering her sudden caution and how to approach this. He could continue to keep things to himself, with the risk that she thinks him hiding it all purposefully, or he could tell her and risk that she flees and never speaks to him again.

He tilts his head, spreads one hand flat on the handle between them -- palm down, carefully drawing her attention.

"I can tell you if you want to know," he says finally, "to keep things fair between us. Things aren't a secret for me on purpose, you simply didn't ask before. That, and there's a degree of plausible deniability you'd lose."

Lancelot flies a wry smile at that. She's already guessed he isn't her faction, after all. If he was then he'd have had no reason not to tell her, and she might have seen him day to day. The question is how to tell her without causing her to accuse him of something underhand.

Nancy draws her lower lip up in a pout as she looks at his hand carefully.

"Now it sounds surreptitious." Because with the idea of her losing plausible deniability, didn't that mean something sinister was going on? she pursed her lips, looking at him carefully. Was she over-reading this entire situation?

"Well what else is there? You're a cop, you've got a dog, don't like giving out verbal warnings to pretty girls trying to make a few pounds. Can't imagine anything worth hiding from that, even if you don't mean to be."

He takes a breath, lets it out slowly and offers a slight wince and tilt of his head. Yes and no... She's obviously missed his slight hint about supernatural policing. He supposes he'll have to out with it. So Lancelot sips a bit of his coffee, puts on his best poker face.

"Well, there is the fact that I'm a Guardian for the Night Council. I told you supernatural things are my jurisdiction too, after all. Although before you panic, try and remember you haven't told me anything illegal you've done and I have offered to help you. Twice, actually."

Lancelot jerks an eyebrow, slightly amused, and internally braces himself as he sips his coffee again.

"No, just that I'm a whore." She exhaled over thin-lips. "Don't think that's legal." She needed to learn to shut up at key moments, rather than allow herself a few cutting remarks instead.

"Night Council Guardian." Wonderful. "I figured you just happened to investigate supernatural crimes." And now she was sitting in front of him. Great.

At least she hadn't said a damn thing about Shadow Coven.

Lancelot wrinkles his nose and decides to just... leave that. It's awkwardly technical and the law is a little stupid, and besides all that Nancy doesn't really care. He knows that. She's just getting a word in.

"I do investigate them! Just... officially? Rather than unofficially."

He shrugs helplessly, rests his mug on the table.

"I take my job seriously, but... to me it's no different than being a community officer for the police. The community is just different. I've no doubt plenty of people think Guardians frightening, perhaps sometimes they are, but I'd rather people trust me enough to report a crime than run from me and leave me to find their body later."

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