Owner	Pose
Qira Quest	The fun thing about the Bar With No Name... it can be anywhere, and changes locations frequently. Tonight, the entry to the bar looks like any other dingy doorway in one of the neighborhoods on Avenue C that hasn't quite managed to get touched by the gentrification efforts yet. To those in the know, however, its the entry to a very particular place. One where you could feasibly arrange for anything you might want through shady characters of all stripes. The interior still looks like any dive bar found across America, nothing much that looks special about it. There's something about the bartender, though. Something.. off. And the clientele tend to be some colorful characters. Costumed henchmen on a night off, mercenaries, the occasional supervillain (mostly D listers), and assorted shady individuals. And then there's Qira. She looks too young to be in a bar, let alone a 'wretched hive of scum and villainy', at least from a distance. Short, trim, with some very long and almost startlingly white hair, and strange yellow-green eyes. On closer inspection, there's the sort of hard cast to her features and eyes that suggests she's perhaps not so out of place as she appears. Unlike the henchmen, she wears no costume, just a layered look of black on black with some subtle gold embroidered accents here and there. There's music playing from the jukebox, people chatting at booths and tables, arguing over pool games, playing darts, there may even be a few people on the dance floor. Qira, however, sits in one of the tattered booths and sips on something that could be water or could be something else.
Daimon Hellstrom	Does Daimon Hellstrom fit in among the Bar With No Name's crowd? Really, does Daimon Hellstrom fit in much of anywhere? He's wearing a black suit with a red shirt, no tie, collar button undone. He could be any number of Maggia types or Hand-adjacent Yakuza that might turn up in a spot like this... but he definitely has a different energy to him than those folk would. There's something sharp about him, something dangerous -- the demonic is usually pretty difficult to land a finger on, at least directly. Daimon approaches the booth, hands in his pockets, strolling casually like he's just out for a walk around the block. "Quest?" he asks, looking right at Qira. He must have been told what to look for, and she IS pretty distinct.
Qira Quest	Taking a sip of her drink, Qira glances up at Daimon when he approaches, looking him over and giving a small nod of respect. "You must be the potential emplyer a mutual acquaintance mentioned." She motions to the booth across from her and tilts her head towards the bar, "No waitstaff, if you want a drink you have to order from the bar." Settling back in the booth, she gives him a more thorough once-over, her hands resting easily on the tabletop as she watches him with those strange eyes. "I hear you're looking for someone that can do occasional errands for you. Item retrieval, target tracing, surveillance. That sort of thing. Maybe something more after a period of acclimation?"
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon has the kind of calm, unbothered air about him that almost certainly drives most people insane if they spend too long in his company. One can tell right from the jump that he's an insufferable jerk. He might have the manners to get through a business meeting, but he's definitely a jerk. "Daimon Hellstrom," he says, taking a seat at the bar. He doesn't offer a handshake. "And yes, I'm in the market for someone who can do things like that. Mostly item retrieval or playing courier with dangerous artifacts."
Qira Quest	It's alright, Qira is used to insufferable jerks, she's learned to be unflappable in the face of it, drives them nuts when they can't get a reaction from her. Such as right now, when she's just impassively watching him while occasionally sipping from the glass in front of her. She almost doesn't even seem to blink, just staring at him. Nodding to the introduction, she doesn't bother to reiterate her own name. "I've done worse for less. I was told you tend to be generous in compensation for people that do good work. I'm definitely interested in the work. Do you have anything in mind in the immediate sense, or am I just being put on retainer and waiting until you have something for me?"
Daimon Hellstrom	"I do tend to be generous in compensation," Daimon says. He wags is eyebrows once. His hands rest on the tabletop, and he's studying Qira as much as she's studying him. He has unnatural eyes of his own, though not as glaringly so. His irises are a deep, dark red. Not a color usually associated with regular humans. "Right now, just retainer. But first, let me ask you something." Daimon pauses a moment, considering Qira. "I'm not about to ask you to kiss and tell. But I'd like to know what kind of item retrieval and that sort of thing you've successfully performed in the past. Give me a sense of what you're used to."
Qira Quest	If she understands the innuendo, there's no indication of it, just a short nod to indicate that she heard him. She's sitting almost preternaturally still, only the slight rise and fall of her chest even indicating that she's breathing. Watching him, meeting his strange gaze with her own, neither of them having 'human' eyes. Lifting a brow at his requestion ask her something, she gives another short nod. Ah, he wants references. "I was created and raised by the League of Assassins, I have been a full operative from the ages of 9 to 16. We parted ways forcibly, and my creator continued to use me for all manner of missions. Item retrieval, protection, assassination... whatever would net him the most money. Then he died, so here I am."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon isn't trying to find buttons in Qira to push. Not yet, anyway. He's still just watching her. He's not as still as her, not as eerie, but he definitely comes across like someone who wouldn't flinch at dealing with the League of Assassins. "'Then someone died, so here I am'... that's the story of most of us, isn't it?" Daimon allows himself a small chuckle and a tiny, crooked half-smile. "Do you have much experience around magical artifacts? I know that the League of Assassins has at least some level of mysticism involved, but there's mysticism and then there's hardcore magic."
Qira Quest	She lifts a shrug, "He was my creator. I exist because of him. But he's dead. So now I must find my own way." It doesn't seem to bother her one way or another, she's simply stating facts. THen again, the League doesn't raise people to be emotional, they raise them to be deadly. Her lack of ties make her a perfect candidate. As to the question of magical items, she gives a nod, "I have been briefed and trained in the handling and care of magical, cursed, or otherwise mystically dangerous items. I was a favored courier for my creator, thanks to my genetic enhancements."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon lifts a brow at the words 'genetic enhancements.' He nods his head once, and lifts his hands up to lace his fingers together. "Good. I can tell just from looking at you that you're not one who likes sitting and listening to people talk about themselves, so I'll be quick. I'm the son of Satan. Well. One of the many archdemons who the human race has amalgamated into the idea of Satan." Daimon shrugs his shoulders. These things happen. "There are a lot of artifacts out there that people shouldn't fuck with. So I take them out of their hands, the same way that you'd want to take a loaded gun out of the hands of a toddler. Since most people screwing around with demonic power amounts to the same thing."
Qira Quest	Qira lifts a brow right back at him, she's certain she mentioned that she was created, not birthed. In either case, she gives a quick nod, appreciating his brevity in giving a bit of background. The mention of being the son of a major archdemon warrants a full blink, eyes slowly closing, then opening again. She doesn't say anything, however, letting him continue. Giving a small nod, her lips twitch faintly as she mutters, "I understand. I've had similar experiences with non-magical items that are dangerous and find their way into the hands of people that should never have them." Qira lets out a breath, "I can guarantee to treat these items with the proper caution and respect they deserve."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon waves a hand lazily. "Any portals to Hell that get accidentally opened, which I have to close, are coming out of your pay." It's pretty much impossible to tell if the man is joking or not. "Any questions? Bear in mind that most of the time, you'll be dealing with... well, idiots who don't quite realize what they're holding. People who think Satanism is just an excuse for orgies." Daimon sneers just a bit at that. "It'll be pretty rare that you actually need to harm anyone."
Qira Quest	"Since I can't open portals, if any are opened, I would hazard they came about because of whatever item I'm retrieving for you. I'm a courier, not a magical dead zone." Qira's tone doesn't give away if she's joking or not, and she continues to look straight at him. Is she teasing him? Being serious? Is this what it's like to be on the receiving end of that? "I know how to disable and knock out people as much as how to kill. I can't promise they'll feel *no* pain, but if you don't want them dead, then it's a waste of my time to kill them." She pauses, then nods, "I know there are items that can possess someone, or rather, vessels holding beings that can possess someone. I presume you have a means of me from becoming a casualty of the items you wish retrieved?"
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon just chuckles at the 'magical dead zone' comment. He doesn't press on the topic -- he knows just as much about receiving the deadpan treatment as he does about giving it. Spend too much time with demons, you get exposed to every kind of societal weird habit. "Honestly, most of the time, you shouldn't even have to knock anyone out. Just break in and get out, or maybe flex a little intimidation. Which I have faith you can do." Daimon gives Qira that crooked little half-smile again. "But, yes. I'm not just going to send you to pick up the Wand of Watoomb or something without preparing you. Whatever the pickup is, I'll make sure you have the necessary intel and whatever warding I can provide to help you out. Fair warning, I might end up having to draw some runes on you, but don't worry, they'll wash off after a few showers."
Qira Quest	"If we're being honest, I should rarely come into contact with people at all. I am trained in all manner of stealth, if I run into someone, then something has likely gone wrong." Qira lifts a small shrug before lifting her glass for another sip. She lands those strange eyes on him again and watches. "Hm. Can they be made permanent? If I'm going to continue to work for you, I would think it would save time overall to have the wards permanently etched on me, then simply imbue them when necessary. Unless the drawing is part of the ritual, I suppose," Qira doesn't seem bothered either way, but it seems if she can save him the trouble, then all the better.
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon nods along to Qira's talk of stealth. He clearly doesn't have any problems with that modus operandi. "It depends on the ward, really," he says, with another wag of his hand. "And what's being warded against. It'd be a waste to tattoo you with something that you're only really ever going to need once to protect against one specific circumstance. And sometimes the rune is mostly just the focus of the ritual, so the painting of it is part of the process." Daimon rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "Magic is one of those things where the rules change with every situation. It's not as predictable as math or geometry. In fact, it tends to break both of those."
Qira Quest	Nodding, Qira purses up her lips before shrugging, "I had an idea that you might say that, but it was worth asking about. Is there anything else you think I should know going in? Also, do we have a designated drop spot or meeting place after an item has been retrieved?" Generally such things are handled through dead drops and pre-arranged meetings, but the former may not be feasible with these objects, and not everyone can keep their schedule cleared. She lets out a breath and shakes her head, "Magic is arguably useful, but often not worth the risk. I prefer to rely on myself and my abilities, but I do understand the need for occasional protection or warding against certain things. In either case, we can deal with it as it arises."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon considers the question of a drop spot. "Unless otherwise specified, my mansion in Fire Lake, Massachusetts. Just... call ahead. Ring the doorbell. That kind of thing. There are enough magical wards and protective measures that if you try to creep in, you might get caught up in some of it. Neither of us need the hassle." He smiles at her. "Anything you need, you let me know. If you need fashion tips on how to fit in amongst the 'do what thou wilt' set, whatever, I'm on hand to help."
Qira Quest	Qira nods and pulls out a burner phone, tossing it on the table with a small rattle, "Go ahead and put in the number you want me to use. And let me know if it's one I can text or if vocal confirmation is needed." She lifts her glass for another swallow and blinks at him once more. That slow, measured closing then opening of her eyes. "What I wear will likely vary from mission to mission, but I will let you know if I need anything in particular. What I could use right now is cash for a room. Somewhere cheap is fine, one of those long-term motels where I can pay cash, they don't question not having id, that sort of thing."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon types in the number. "You can text. If I don't answer, I might be in another dimension, but I'll get back to you ASAP." Daimon passes the burner phone back. "That's it?" he asks. "You're good on food, clothing, essentials? I mean, those seedy motels above the happy-ending massage parlors don't exactly restock your shampoo."
Qira Quest	"Understood. I'll try to give at least a few hours' warning on incoming, to give you time to prepare or finish whatever tasks you need to," Qira takes the phone, checking the number before tucking it away again. She looks at him and adds, "If there's ever a time where you feel something requires more expertise, I'm also open to learning." Lifting a brow at him, she shrugs, "I don't exist. I wasn't born, I have no birth certificate, no social security number. The name I go by was given by my creator, and I took his surname after his death for lack of better options. But there is no record anywhere of me. I've learned to be self-sufficient. If it weren't still cold as balls out there, I wouldn't even ask for the cash."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon nods. "Likewise, if you ever want to just increase your general familiarity with the occult... you're looking at the best man to ask." That little crooked half smile again, and he says: "You look way too young to know how cold balls are." He's just fucking with her. "But even girls who don't exist still need food. If that ever becomes an issue and you want to play on Easy Mode, let me know."
Qira Quest	"I'm always willing to learn a new skill or add to my knowledge base. The more I know the better prepared I can be." And the more deadly, too. Qira snorts softly and lifts a brow at him, "I look too young for damn near everything, yet here I am. Funny how that works." Her brows furrow briefly, "Easy Mode?" Someone has never played a video game.
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon waves a hand as if to silently say 'don't worry about it' regarding the Easy Mode thing. "Let's say, hypothetically, you catch a bullet or whatever and you'd rather /not/ go steal a freshly cooling pie from a windowsill, or rather not shoplift a shirt without a bullet hole in it from American Apparel. Just let me know. I'll wire you the money."
Qira Quest	"Mmm, if I catch a bullet, I'll be down for a few days. I've gone longer without food. It's not that I'm entirely without funds, but I do have to be careful of my spending, and the expense of a roof and a bed is more than I care to take on just now," Qira lifts a small shrug. She tugs lightly at the black clothing, "Besides, that's why I wear black. Doesn't really show the blood. Anyone that tells you red hides the blood is bullshitting you. Stains the clothes, turns it a darker red. Black is the only thing where it doesn't make it obvious."
Daimon Hellstrom	"And here I just thought it was that it goes with everything," Daimon says. "Anyway. If you need a place to stay tonight, I could give you a lift back to the mansion. Might be good to give you a sense of what you might be encountering along the way. Then I can send you off with enough cash to go stay in the most no-tell motel your heart desires."
Qira Quest	"That I wouldn't know about." Again, it's hard to tell when she's teasing and she actually has no idea. Lifting a brow at his offer, she considers it for a long moment, then gives a nod, "Alright, but I'll follow you on my bike. If I leave it here, it'll be in pieces by the morning." Qira lifts the glass to finish her drink, then sets it aside and slides out of the booth and up to her feet. "Ready?"
Daimon Hellstrom	"Ready," Daimon says. He doesn't offer Qira a hand or anything. He's definitely not that type of guy, even when he's offering to put a woman up for the night. "Let's head out to your bike and I'll shunt us all over. I mean, Christ, can you imagine driving here from Massachusetts? Four or five hours, minimum."
Qira Quest	"Alright," Qira doesn't question the 'shunting' even though it sounds terrible. Nor does she seems like she expected any sort of hand up or assistance. She'd likely end up just staring at him quizzically. Instead, she leads the way out the door and towards where her bike is parked. "I imagine that you'll be sending me all over. How else did you think I would get to places?" There's the faintest note of humor creeping into her tone.
Daimon Hellstrom	"You know portals come pretty early on in sorcery training, right?" Daimon says, matching her faint note for faint note.