13774/Calling All Foxes

Calling All Foxes
Date of Scene:	08 January 2023
Location:	Mercy's Garage
Synopsis:	A new business arrangement starts over a chicken dinner.
Cast of Characters:	Mercy Thompson, Cecily Winters

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Mercy Thompson has posed:
    The holidays are always hard on Mercy. People don't take care of their cars, work gets harder. Then there's that whole mess with 'family obligations' as it were. She's felt as if her life became work for the last month and a half and other parts of her life have suffered. Not the least of which is having been too tired to do maintenance on her guns and she wasn't aware how low her ammo supplies were getting.
    Being a small business owner herself she likes to support the 'little guys' as it were. Also she can't just trust anyone with her father's old rifle. The pistols she is less attached too, but still. That's what led to Mercy doing some online looking. She doesn't want to make a trip to Montana again so soon and deal with that. That's how she appening upon Kitsune Firearms. Mercy isn't versed on Japanese stuff as much but she's always curious and figured she give it a shot. Pulling out her cell she starts to dial up the number listed on the website.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Kitsune Arms isn't particularly well advertised. There's no web banners. No television ads. It's word of mouth. A spot in the yellow pages. And, while there's no brick and mortar location on Google Maps, it does show up in local listings for gunsmiths in NYC. The website itself? Sleek and modern. Bare bones, but professional. Like a steel-and-glass skyscraper. A stylized white fox logo with multiple tails in white over a black background. Services offered include repair, modification, upgrade, and ammunition services. 'New' guns aren't for sale, though. Prices negotiable.

    But the number is clear and easy to find as is an email address and a bird app handle. The phone rings a couple of times before a female voice on the other end answers. "Kitsune Arms, Ms. Winters speaking."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "Hello there. My name is Mercy and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?" She casually drums on the table but all her attention is focused on the receiver using her skills to see if she can hear anything important on the background. "I have an old weapon I need to get it professionally serviced and wouldn't mind buying ammo and getting some empty casings to make my own as well."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Curiously enough, there's no sound in the background. No traffic. No voices. No TV. If anything, it has the audio qualities of an office room. Compact, four walls. Brick maybe? The woman on the other side listens intently herself, "Mmhm. Mmhm. An antique? Well I'm always happy to get my hands on such things. Ammunition and brass are a non-issue as well. Do you have a place where you store the weapon? I generally prefer to bring them back to my workshop but face-to-face connections with first-time clients are my go-to. I'm sure you understand with my line of work and dealing with firearms and destructive devices." Her voice is steady and even, tone neutral. Professional and not patronizing.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "The gun in question was made in the late 60s, so it is not technically an antique I think. Not by the law anyway." She debate the options and says, "Well I have a shop that is under my home and you can always meet me here if you like. I wasn't going to just mail my gun to someone I never met either. I would like to buy ammo at the least. I didn't see an address or place of business listed." Mercy has the shop closed to be able to take some much needed time to rest.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The other side of the line is still bereft of ambient noise. "Address?" she asks. "I can bring an order form for ammunition as well as view your licenses." She lets that hang in the air for a moment, then adds, "We can talk over any discrepancies." As if she's implying that if Mercy doesn't /have/ paperwork, things are still... negotiable. "Depending on your location it could be a half an hour to an hour. No fees for the visitation or appraisal. Does that sound satisfactory, Mercy?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy offers, "I'm in Harlem. You can find me at Mercy's Garage. Just a bit north of Central Park really." Far as some of the paperwork for her guns, that's a bit harder to manage. "They're licensed as I can be. Obviously I don't have an original bill of sale on a gun that old." She nods her head and says, "I'll be here all day and so you can just ring the service bell. I may be in the back tinkering."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Harlem?" there's the sound of typing. Likely checking for Mercy's Garage and a map to get there, and the like. "I can be there in twenty. Is that satisfactory?" comes the question and then the sound of a chair rolling. She's standing up from her desk, most likely. "We can talk more details when I'm there. Thank you for contacting Kitsune Arms."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "That's fine. I'll see you then. Thank you for the quick reply. Goodbye." She'll hang up politely and then Mercy goes to see about going and clearing a table in the main garage some and spread out a cloth to put the guns on. Using the one she uses when she cleans the weapons. She just knows most of her things need a bit more then a normal cleaning. She can kill twenty minutes easily.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    What's more valuable than gold in New York City? Parking. The twenty minutes have almost come and gone, and a nondescript grey sedan is pulling into the lot in front of the garage. It's not even a new model, it's a good five years old. Maybe on purpose. No sense in drawing attention to oneself, at least, moreso than one truly can avoid. Because when the door opens, the first thing out is fluff. And then the woman who it's all attached to.

    Nine tails and sleek office lady look with a shoulder-holster and a chest rig, Cecily steps out of her car and leans in to grab the black messenger bag sitting on the passenger seat. Her sleeves are rolled up, forearms bare, and shooter's gloves wrapping up her hands. The fox woman gives the lot, the house, and the garage front a long scan with her eyes before she starts towards the door--and promptly rings the service bell.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Fortunately with Mercy owning a garage there is parking for the business so it shouldn't be too hard to find a place THIS time. Mercy hears the sedan as it pulls up, she's good at recognizing the sounds of motors and identifying them. Mercy finishes up what she is doing and not rushing to the door. So sadly she misses the floofy reveal of the tails at first.
    The store looks closed for the most part, seeing as she doesn't want the woman to leave Mercy goes and starts to open one of the garage bays up after hearing the bell. She is very curious about the smell of fox, and feels her hackles raise a bit. That territorial side of herself trying to assert itself. Then she sees the woman in question. "Well I guess I know where the name comes from."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Fox might be the prevailing scent, but there's so much more, too. Cecily is a mixed bouquet. Fox. Tea and honey. Books and gunpowder. Polish, grease, and metal. But strangely, the tea and honey seem to be at war with the scent of fox for the strongest of the scents. "Mmm?" she asks, hearing the comment. "Ah, the Kitsune part of Kitsune Arms, yes?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at her tails, which seem to be wiggling and waving of their own accord.

    "I'm Cecily, or Ms. Winters. Owner and sole employee of Kitsune Arms. And you must be Mercy of Mercy's Garage?" she asks. She's just as neutral and cordial as she was over the phone. Business-like, which matches her attire to a T. "So you have a..." she ponders the word. "...classic rifle you'd like serviced, and to make an order of ammunition or at least brass, yes?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "Least that's what I assume is how you got the name." Mercy will hold back on her own instincts but those with a keen nose will know she is maybe not quite human. A hand is offered, "Mercy Thompson. Nice to meet you. Feel free to step in." Motioning to the open garage bay. "I can leave the door open or close it as you feel most comfortable, Cecily." She gives a nod and says, "got it in one on the name."
    There is an old car in one of the bays, a VW bug. One of the work tables is covered with the rifle, a few automatic pistols as well. "Appreciate you stopping by so fast."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Oh it's accurate," Cecily states. "I'm also a security consultant," she adds, stepping in when invited. There's a casual gesture to the door, "Go ahead and close it. Keep the chill out," she nods, moving to approach the table. "A quick visit is no trouble at all. Gunsmithing is more of my favorite hobby, but not my largest source of... work. So I am more than happy to leap at the opportunity to work on something like this. But you have to imagine there are some who would... well..." she gives a lopsided smile.

    "Let us just say a house call like this is also a good chance for a.. what do they call it.. vibe check? So that before any contracts are signed and work is done, we both feel confident about what's going on here," she says, eyes focusing on the table and the firearms. "Ah, that is a beauty..." she states, looking primarily at the rifle. "Defintely not an antique, but absolutely a classic... heavy, too. Do a lot of hunting upstate?" she asks. It's a loaded question.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy will roll down the bay door once they are both inside. "I prefer hot to cold almost any day of the week. Why I keep the space heaters going." As she motions to the one in the corner where she has one. Mercy tries to not let the tails distract her but that's a lot of tails. "How long does it take to brush all that?!" Then she realizes she voiced that and shakes her head. "Sorry sorry. Not why you are here"
    Mercy motions to the table and says, "They're unloaded of course and you can look if you want to. I have been known to hunt," grinning wide. Though usually on four legs. "I've had to use it for home security more then once too." Mercy offers and says, "Grew up in bear country. This belonged to my foster father and I inherited it."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Maybe Cecily notices the looks, and the question definitely gets her attention. "They are very warm and soft," she states, as if trying to tempt Mercy into touching them, or something. "And it takes a good half hour or so after I've bathed. I can dry them -very- quickly, though," she adds. At the self-correction, though, she shrugs. "You are not paying for my time, Mercy. Building rapport is all a part of this process. As you can imagine, I don't simply sell ammunition to someone off of the street from the back of a van. If we're to have me service your weapon and provide you with munitions, then building a working relationship is a healthy thing, wouldn't you agree?" she asks.

    She steps closer to the guns and takes her time to verify for herself that they are, indeed, unloaded. The rifle, though, is the focal point of her visit--and her attention. "This? For home defense? In the middle of the city?" she asks. "...I trust you were aiming at a brick wall at the same time? This would blow through an average human and the wall behind them otherwise..." she tsks softly. There's a hint of admonishment there, but her specifying 'average human' is also, perhaps.. telling.

    "So what would you like done to these? Simple cleaning and maintenance? Going over them to make sure no parts need replacing? Upgrading optics?" she turns the rifle over and over in practiced hands. "...this would definitely stop a bear... among other things..."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy feels better that Cecily is not just selling to people 'off the books' or too carelessly. She touches her own hair braids, "I mostly just go with what is easy and don't have a 'style routine' as it were. I can only imagine how much it takes to keep that walking shampoo and conditioner you have attached." She is starting to relax but can't stop keeping a very keen eye on the woman right now. "Well in the wild open there aren't so many brick walls. And some things are tougher then a brick wall. But I like the rifle and it's saved my life more then once." The rifle shows some real use and wear, but also clearly is cared fore. There's a chip on the shoulder stock from where it may have been dropped or possibly even as a club once. The stock is tapped and wood glue used to try and stop the crack from spreading.
    "The rifle needs the main attention. The hammer is feeling like it sticks a bit more and I don't trust myself to take it apart like I do my pistols. The pistols are doing alright, but they could always use a full clean from a professional. I shoot semi regularly, and keep them up. A woman running a shop alone can't be too careful." She shakes her head and admits, "no fancy optics. I trust my eyes, they are better then most things. Iron sights or basic scopes are fine for me." She sets down a few bullets. "Here's what I have been using for the various guns." Letting the sit on the table between them.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Ah that would do it. Much better in the open country than here in the city.. especially if you don't want to wake the neigbors with a bullet through the window... awkward, that.." Cecily says off-hand as she looks the rifle's stock over. "This is a stopgap..." she frowns at the bandaging done, and then examines the hammer closer. "Right then... tell you what..." she lays the rifle down and gives the pistols a once-over. Basic cleaning job? She doesn't need to run a full diagnostic on them right now.

    "You take the day off, I'll get the pistols cleaned up before the end of the night so you've got your home defense sorted out because the rifle is going to take longer..." she gestures to it. "I can machine a new hammer for you and get that installed, and replace the stock entirely. Reinforce it some, give it a metal core. You know, make it more sturdy and give it some extra heft if you're using it to crack skulls... The more you shoot with it like this, the more likely it's going to crack more, and you don't want this splintering when it's trying to take some recoil."

    Then she collects the rounds in her hand and looks them over, "I can get you the brass for these or sell you some hand-loads, though obviously the latter will take longer, too. But what do you think then? Rifle of yours is well loved, but it'll definitely look brand new when I get it back to you. Does that sound okay to you?" she asks, tone softening a little. She's clearly one who understands sentimental value.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy motions to the shop around them, "I'm already closed. If you want to and got your tools here you are free to use this space. Long as you don't mind me watching you. Also I'm not totally defenseless." She considers the rest about the rifle modifications. "Try to not make it too heavy please. That rifle is about as big as I want to go. I can handle the kickback, the weight I would worry about making it harder to aim." She taps a finger in thought, "Though I'm sure I can adjust. I always tell my customers to listen to the experts. I should do the same."
    "I got a way to pack the powder and seat the slug. Just need about twenty shots of each caliber to use for some home cooked rounds I use at special times." Mercy reaches out and will motion to near the trigger guard where there's some engraved initials. "Just don't remove that please. I am not ready to loose that." Clearly an owner's initials and it isn't M.T. either. "How much do can you estimate the cost?"

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "I do have my cleaning kit, and that isn't a long process. The rifle, however, will reqire my shop," she states. "So if you would prefer I stay here, I can do this on-site. Though I might ask you to buy me lunch for the trouble," she gives a small, half-smirk to Mercy. Then she opens up her book bag and pulls out a clipboard with a form on it. "Fill this out for the ammunition you need, or at least the brass. I can bring those when I bring the rifle back to you." At the request for the initials, she looks down at the rifle's trigger.

    "Replacing the stock won't affect the trigger guard, and the hammer is a different component. It won't go anywhere. I'll make sure to polish up the moving parts and give it a protective coating so it'll last longer, too," she states, nodding. At the question of price, she purses her lips and looks everything over. "...about five hundred even, plus lunch. The heavy lifting is going to be the rifle, plus simply time and labor. Does that sound fair?" she folds her arms under the sizable shelf of her chest, her tails waving slowly behind her. "I can have it done in a couple of days, on top of that, extra if you need it by tomorrow."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy grins and says, "I can buy you lunch that's fine. Any dietary restrictions I should know about? Also I'm a fair baker and can always provide you home made cookies." With that Mercy will take the clipboard and pull a pen from her pocket to start working on it.
    "I can do five hundred and yes I realize that is an estimate not a quote." Having had to do that herself more then a few times. She notices the arm cross and manages to hide any jealousy, she's used to women looking more attractive to her. The tails are far more impressive anyway. "No rush job. I rather it be done right then it be done fast. Even if it bills me an hour or two more."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    There's a lot to like on Cecily. The fluffy bits. The eyes. She's certainly... eerily beautiful, one might say. Unnatural? Maybe it's a kitsune thing, even if she's not a 'true kitsune'. "No restrictions, and it doesn't have to be expensive. What's your favorite?" she asks, then nods to the door. "My kit is in my trunk, I'll need to grab it." The bookbag might just be for paperwork and stuff, but sharp ears can tell there's something heavier and metallic inside, too. A secondary firearm? The scent of powder and brass on the woman isn't just lingering on her, it's coming from the bag too.

    "And more that I'm asking if it's 'high priority'. As I said, my other job is a security consultant. And there are times where I am needed, on short notice, to be places. That means weapon work, which is... as stated... a little more of a hobby than a primary source of income... needs to be paused." Then she rolls her eyes, "..thankfully interruptions tend to not take too long. Usually..." her tail-tips flick with some degree of annoyance.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "You can go out the bay door if you want. That door there will get you to the office which also will get you to the parking lot if you want to keep the heat in." Mercy nods to the door in question. "There's a great place that does rotisserie chicken not far from here with spicy rice and sides. The best of which is the spinach if you ask me. I could order us something from there and have it brought here."
    Mercy shakes her head, "Things are calm right now. No great evils or angry customers kicking in my door lately. Long as it isn't more then a week I am sure it should be fine. Especially since the rifle should be needed for a bit." The full moon is a good ways off after all.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Thanks kindly," Cecily states, nodding. Then she laughs softly, "...no great evils that we're aware of..." she winks. "Not yet anyway. Had a pretty peaceful New Year's Eve, too, surprisingly..." she muses. "How about you order up, and I'll have what you're having, and I'll be right back?" she suggests, and then heads out. Her tails are the last thing seen as they fluff and floof and wave, and out to her car she goes. The fox is really only gone for a few minutes, though, as she returns with a utility bag that's full of tools and has various pouches and mesh pockets on the outside for cleaners and sprays and lubricants and everything a girl could need to field-strip and repair just about any modern firearm.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy shudders a bit. "Last one was really obvious." Her shop made the news around a few months ago. "If you're not a big eater you may want a smaller then my order. My faster mother always complained about me having two hollow legs." She will head for the office to get on the phone and call the order in while Cecily goes to get her things and can begin working. Shouldn't take Mercy long, she clearly orders from here from time to time. She opens the register and pulls out some cash to pay for the food after writing a note to herself about that.
    Mercy is likely walking back into the main shop after Cecily is already back at the table. "Need me to find a chair for you or something? I got coveralls you can borrow .... no. I don't think you can. They're front fasten and your tails wouldn't fit. Sorry."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Chair, yes please. Coveralls, no thank you," Cecily says simply. She's already laying out a soft mat to put on the table, for the guns, and a series of cloths. She's switched out her shooting gloves for something better used for cleaning solvents. "I'm fine with the same sized order you're having," she states, hoping that was the case. "I haven't had breakfast yet either, actually... just my usual cup of tea and I was out the door. You actually just barely caught me getting back to my office."

    Without even waiting for a seat, though, she's already in the process of dismantling one of the guns. She's... fast, though. Her hands don't quite move quickly enough to be out of normal perception, but it's almost like trying to focus on a single blade as a ceiling fan spins overhead. The gun is in pieces and she's already setting up the process of applying cleaning solvent on everything. "I do appreciate the business as well, you would likely not be surprised how few legitimate people actually attempt to solicit my services..."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy has a high stool she uses when she has to clean out smaller parts of oil and grease on some engine parts. She gets a clean cloth and drapes it on the seat for Cecily, "There you go. No back, but that may be a good thing." Nodding to all that tail in question. "I got a kettle upstairs, I hate coffee but enjoy tea myself. I can bring us down a pot maybe."
    The guns show signs of use and regular use at that. They get cleaned as well, but it's possible that Mercy didn't get all the blood off at least one of the pistols from when she was in a serious fight. "Sorry to hear that. I try to support businesses like the one I run too. Sadly your car is way too new and also didn't look to be German make. Which is my personal field." She settles on the opposite side to watch Cecily work for a bit. Studying the grace of the woman's hands and her skill.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "What kind of tea do you have? I'm a fan of green, myself, but I'll give anything a go..." Cecily speaks a bit absently. She's getting into the 'zone', as it were. Her ears are perked up and facing forward and even her tails seem to have gone still. She doesn't even shift positions much when she scoots her bottom up onto the stool. "Thank you," she does say politely, and works. It's not even just a matter of some level of enhanced speed, it's also practice and care. Her hands move with the comfort and experience of someone that's been doing this for years, with or without metahuman.. enhancements.

    "I've got others to take care of the car. I actually try to drive it as little as possible," she explains, still a bit absently, as she's already in the process of applying gun oil and letting the parts 'rest' for everything to get properly coated. She hasn't moved on to the second pistol just yet, but she's definitely working through the first one very quickly. "Owning a car in this city is more trouble than it's worth, but house calls do require a little more... class than hopping a cab..." she laughs.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "A few types, my favorite is a blend of orange and cinnamon. Pretty sure I got some jasmine tea s well." Mercy gets focusing on the work and tries to just watch and not be a bother to the woman work. "I'll be back, as I go and get the kettle to bring it down and a couple of mugs. I will keep it in the office. Though now I'm thinking it be easier if you did this in my home." Though she isn't ready to have this woman into her home. "Maybe next time or something." She notes the woman's ears and points up. "I'll be above you some. So if you hear something up there, that'll be me." Then she heads for the exit.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Cinnamon orange, please," Cecily comments almost immediately. "...there is a cinnamon orange that comes out of Seattle that is.. exquisite... by the way. If you have not tried it, I can order some for you to try..." she states, holding the pistol's slide at an angle, watching as the oil slowly but surely seeps into the metal-on-metal surfaces. "Would it be easier in your home? All I need is a table," she muses. "...though I do appreciate the invitation. Eating would likely be easier too, when it arrives. But. I digress. Thank you, in advance, for the tea."

    Nothing in Cecily's body language would suggest that she's agitated or bothered by the other woman hovering and watching her work, though. She comes off as so focused that she's either not noticing it, or she's used to 'distractions' and has learned to work around them. Not that field-stripping a machine pistol is a difficult endeavor.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy plugs in the kettle as she sets the bottles of tea leaves and her bags near there. "I'll give it a check. I go out to Washington from time to time." She sets it to get the water hot and says, "Nothing personal but I also just met you. And want to know you better before I have you in my home." Doing her best to be polite and clear. "Food will be here in ten or fifteen and the tea will be ready in about three." Mercy needs to do something with her hands and stop herself from starting to pace around Cecily, so she picks up a cloth and starts to clean some tools.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "This is why I prefer to work out of doors, my home office is also my workshop," Cecily explains, empathizing with Mercy's desire to shield her home from strangers. "Guests are a very rare thing," she then adds as she starts to take apart the next gun. "I should be done with the machine pistols before the food gets here, then," she explains. She's efficient. Everything is pieced out, everything is examined for damage, and then meticulously cleaned until the solvent-soaked cloths no longer come off of the parts with black smudges. Of course, for a sensitive nose, that stuff smells acrid and terrible.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "I have a cat. She'll likely claim your tails as her bed and you'd be there so long I'd have to charge you rent," answer Mercy. "Feel free to use the sink if you want to. I'll warn the soap has abrasives in it. I need that to try and get my hands clean after work. Not that there's a real point in that." She hears the little beep-beep from the electric kettle and goes to get the tea to steep. She puts the mug down on the table by Cecily's left arm. "I'd let it steep a few minutes. I can make more if you like it."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "I'm wearing gloves for a reason," Cecily says quietly, then laughs. "...I will not be vanquished by a mere feline... I am made of much tougher stuff than that.." she says, stoic, and... playful? The fox must not be ALL 'srs bzns' all the time. Just. Usually. By now, the second gun is cleaned and she's applying the lubricating oil to it. Not something one can just 'superspeed' through, honestly. It has to come out, and flow, and coat. As the tea mug lands near her, though, she breathes deep, much preferring that to the acrid stench of gun cleaner. "...thank you kindly, Mercy."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "This feline is fearless. And has no tail so she'll be very envious." Mercy doing her best to make the cute stray she adopted sound like some fearsome beast, even if her tone is light and amused. "Not a problem. I'll let you finish up. I'm sure the delivery guy will be here soon. They always seem to hurry here when I add cookies to the tip." Mercy is holding her own mug as she heads for the office where they can sit and eat on the short table and chairs in there.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "She can borrow my fluff for a brief time," Cecily states simple, watching the oil seep into the grooves of the mechanism she's holding. "Right, you did mention cookies..." she sounds amused, her tails waving a little faster. "What kind?" she asks, genuinely curious. It's not like she's going anywhere unless she props stuff up awkwardly so the fluid runs in a certain direction. For the moment, her hands are full.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "Ginger snaps, real ginger mind you." Mercy answers as she stands in the office door to wait and watch. She starts to sip at her tea some after using a finger to stir it around some. "I brought down the batch I made the other night to have as a dessert."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Ears lift, "Ginger snaps?" she asks. "...perhaps a recipe exchange can be in order? I have some chocolate chip cookies I've made before..." she says with a smile, leaning back a little. "This is almost done," she nods to the gun parts. "Just a little more and I'll reassemble them. We can do lunch, and I'll have you sign off on handing the rifle over to me. Does that sound good?"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "Sure. I'm not a chef who has to guard her recipes." Mercy nods her head and admits. "Yeah I would feel better with a paperwork trail between us on the rifle if you're taking it home to work on. Hmm?!" She will suddenly turn to the empty lot. "Food is here," announcing before the driver can pull up having heard the engine about a block away. The tea is set down as she picks up the money and gets ready to open the front door and meet the young man stepping out.
    "Got your food right here Ms Tee. Bigger then normal. You must be hungry." Mercy says, "Thanks Jerome. You're taking your right turns too hard. It's wearing unevenly," she comments on the car behind him. "I got your money and here's three cookies for you too." As they do the swap there in the lot. "You're the best Ms Tee! Hey when you gonna do another concept car. My pal AJ saw that one in front of Lux you did. Said it was like nothing they ever seen!" Mercy laughs some, "oh not for a bit I hope. They're a lot of work. Drive safe and get your brakes looked at soon." They part way and soon the smell of chicken, and spices, and home cooked food fills the office.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Cecily's ears might've picked up the approaching vehicle, but her focus is still on the weapons in front of her. All other considerations beyond threat detection aren't focused on heavily. The lengthy conversation, though, is impossible to not hear. She can't help but smile at the casual chatter, the conversation between a regular and someone seen often. A nice rapport, if not potentially a friendship even. And by the time Mercy is coming back inside, Cecily is finishing off the guns with a little polish and putting them back together. "...just in time?" she asks, breathing in deep the smell of the food. Her gloves come off and she picks up the tea cup she was given, likely sufficiently cool and steeped by now. "We'll eat and sort out the forms, then."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "Seems to be about perfect," agrees Mercy as she carries the food to the low coffee table in the waiting area and moves the magazines aside to keep them clean. "So pull up a chair and dig in if you like." Mercy starts to set out the pile of chicken, looks like they each got a small bird and an extra breast and pair of legs. There's a few tubs of various sides as promised as well. Lastly there's a small Tupperware contain with about a dozen ginger snaps inside of it.. "Hopefully this is enough."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    A quick washing up session is taken, before Cecily brings her tea into the other room and has a seat. She's careful with her tails, not sitting on them or leaning back into them. So lush and fluffy. "You weren't kidding when you said it was a lot of food. This should take care of missing breakfast, and put me on track for a small dinner," she chuckles. "...thank you very much, Mercy. It's been a pleasure doing business with you so far. And I don't forsee that sentiment changing." She settles in, gets comfortable, and gets ready for lunch.