Scene #4297: Burning the Midnight Oil

Owner	Pose
Ferham	Midnight Oil Detective Agency. It sounded like to Fer like some kind of gaudy human fable, like the tortoise and the hare, or the mouse and the lion. From where Ferham was standing however, as she looked down the street at the dark and dingy San Francisco street, was something more like the 'homeless man and the crackpipe'. She would right past winos and whoever was around, despite her appearance--that of some sort of curvaceous and high-tech robot lady as she headed around the man's business--trying to see if he was still around, or open. If there were no open doors, she'd arrange a call from a cellular phone's sim-card she had picked up a few days ago, just for practical reasons such as this. Another perk of being a robot, you essentially /were/ a computer already, so all you needed in terms of help were added hardware...
John Rizzo	True to the agency's name, there hangs in the window a sign, affixed to a suction cup, which proudly proclaims the place to be open. A black Dodge Polara is parked outside. One can only imagine the kind of milage that thing must have, as it's clearly outdated compared to the subcompacts that seem so popular in this world. As the streetlight above her flickers, the robot can see a sign, sffixed to the window by a suction cup, which proudly proclaims the agency to be OPEN. Seems like the name isn't just for show. The building itself is a sturdy thing of brick and mortar, evidently two stories yet lacking windows on the second floor. The front door, should she try it, is unlocked.
Ferham	Ferham folds her wings behind her back as she opens the door and casually steps inside--the sound of her high-heeled, thigh-high boots making a 'click-clack' noise against the floor, which might make the resident private dick perhaps expect a different kind of woman. However what he gets is a battle-hardened, high-performance cryogenic and flight-equipped valkyrie robot lady, the kind your mother warned you about. "Hello there, I hear you're someone who might be able to help me with a supernatural related problem," Ferham stands there, stopping short of his desk with her hand on her hip, looking improbably tall--she was 6'0 without the boots, in truth, but right now she's more 6'5" and definitely leggy. Her voice was deep, feminine, almost a purr.
John Rizzo	Rizzo looks Ferham up and down as she enters. "What you heard was that I'm on the nut," he says matter-of-factly. Those grey eyes harden, the ginger-haired man not bothering to get up from the office chair. If roles are to be played, he's the no-nonsense, hardboiled gumshoe here to set the femme fatale to facts. His voice by contrast is gravelly, gruff. "I don't know about supernatural problems, but if you need something found I'm the right gee. Take a seat. Tell me what's going on."
Ferham	"You're... on the nut?" Ferham raised her brows and leaned back just a bit, staring down at him. She wasn't quite sure how to take his slang, she figured it meant something else. "Are you sure? you look pretty supernatural, for a red-haired genetic mutant," Ferham smirked a little, hands on her hips as she took another step back--just to turn to her side. "I might have something you could help me with--there has been a string of incidents surrounding a certain item, I need to get ahold of it for study," Ferham had done the catburglar thing before, even robbed a museum at one point with Miss Clokwerk, wherever she was now. "Thank you," she seemed surprised by his politeness, either way. She wasn't sure if she was going to be able to rely on this guy, but... while she was here might as well see what he could do. She leaned back in the chair, letting it creak, her wings out of the way and crossing her legs. "I had heard you could help me, can you?"
John Rizzo	Rizzo gives an amused huff at Ferham's choice of words. Supernatural? "Not from where I'm sitting, sister. This ugly mug's all natural--joint effort between Italy and Ireland." He listens to her description, nodding. That's a lot of lady sitting in his chair--six foot five by the looks of it, and nothing but trouble. He opens a drawer and retrieves a notepad, as well as a pen. Clicking it and setting it to the paper, he inclines his head towards her. "Maybe. We're just chinning right now. You tell me abnout this dingus and why it's important, and we'll see if you made a trip for biscuits."
Ferham	Ferham wasn't usually big on picking on humans for their genetic anomalies, but something about Rizzo seemed to provoke the cattiness from her. "I see," she nodded, then seemed to stare at him a little, not really getting a lot of the slang he spoke of, especially not the film noir tyoe that Rizzo was able to flex with ease. "I'm Ferham, and you're... Rizzo, I presume?" she nodded a little. "The object in question, I assume you mean, is small, about the size of a pen or a marker," she tilted her head a little, watching the man. What was so odd about him? Nothing was outwardly strange, besides his red hair and speech pattern, probably nothing... She uncrossed and crossed her legs, mostly without thinking about it. Lots of legs was right, lots of trouble too, that was Ferham alright. "It's been linked to a series of disturbances around here, of an unnatural nature, I was wondering if you could help me," she nodded. "I can compensate you of course, you probably know the area better than I do, and your... special skills would be of big help," she smiled a little. Uh oh.
John Rizzo	"Disturbances of an unnatural nature," says the private detective skeptically. "Right." Either he doesn't believe in ghost stories, or he doesn't believe she's being truthful. "Yeah, I'm Rizzo. Guilty as charged. Nice to meet you. Now, hear this. There's some things you wanna be wise to before I take this case. First of all, I'm not a badge, and I'm not a replacement for one. My 'special skills' are legwork, determination, an eye for details, and patience in spades. I'm not muscle, and I'm not a crook. I'm letting you know this now, because if you're looking to hire me thinking I'm the bargain-bin button man, you're gonna be disappointed." "That said. If you're still interested." A pause, and he rests his hands upon the table. "If this thing is on God's green earth, I can find it for you, and I can get it to you before any of your meathead friends--which I presume is the unspoken period in all this--can do any more squabbling over it. /Are/ you interested?"
Ferham	She listened until he had informed her of the details, then nodded. "I realize you're not the police, that is exactly why I am here--I don't believe in paid for policing, anyway, disgusting habit of some law enforcement," Ferham sounded like she hated it form her tone just then, too. "Meathead friends?" she sounded just a bit offended at that, but was silent for a few more moments before nodding. "Well, yes, I am interested," if Rizzo could read her emotions, which she did have--he might be able to tell what sets her off and what doesn't. Though it was unsure if he had an 'aura' or the like, at least one like what he was used to. "As for your concerns about muscle, no, I'm not looking for a mercenary, if there was any need, I could take care of myself, I am a robot, you understand," she raised a brow at him, as if curious if he understood. "I hope you're okay with that, but if it helps you feel better, I very much identify as female," she looked amused again.
John Rizzo	"I understand the robot bit," he says honestly. "The other thing's your business, sweetheart." "Now I'm gonna give you the five Ws, and I want you to be as detailed as you can. Don't leave anything out, even if it seems like it's peanuts. Everything you give me I can use to track it down. Private work's a slog sometimes, so the more I have to go on, the less legwork I have to do, which means you get your dingus faster. Capisce?" He doesn't wait for an answer before he continues. Preparing himself to write, he pretends to focus on the paper. Activating his power of Auspex, he begins gathering details, hoping to use his gift to separate truth from fiction. "I want to know why this thing is so important to you and why you wanna study it, for starters. I want to know where the last place it was seen is. I want to know what exactly these incidents are, and I want to know when the first one happened. And finally, I want to know who was involved in these incidents."
Ferham	"Oh, I see," she waited until he was done laying out his questions. "First, I've interest in the object, it might worthwhile to study, to see what sort of abilities it has," this seemed to be true, at least, from what she was saying. "The last place was... somewhere in this city, as far as I can tell, the incidents themselves are strange, irrational behavior surrounding it, in each case, that's why it's known--they say it was stolen from someone wealthy," she shrugged. "As for the first incident, I'm not sure, nor am I aware was involved exactly--one was a wealthy socialite, they got into a fight with their husband and there was an assault case, from there I lost the whereabouts of it," she seemed to be telling the truth, mostly, though what she conjectured didn't come across as definitive. "You seem to be very cautious, you're afraid of going in on bad information? Or just worried about having to hurt someone?" she watched his expression.
John Rizzo	"Bad information," he says with definitive certainty, looking up for a moment from his writing. "Got any names? Newspaper articles? Maybe a name of this thing you're looking for. People don't /usually/ go ballistic over things without special names, but the world's a different place every day." He continues writing. "I need something concrete. Something I can find on the internet, or something I can get at with old fashioned legwork. You have anything like that for me?" There's always Dementation and its insight, of course. But that's a last resort, for a few reasons, most of them to do with convenience and time. And, of course, telepathy, but he's not even sure if that'd work on a robot. He's getting emotional cues, though... who knows?
Ferham	"It's a personal item, I believe it's a tube of lipstick, however I am not sure who it belonged to or their name," Ferham shook her head, this came across as true. "I'm not sure exactly what it's power is, or why it's been causing these disturbances, but I've dealt with objects like this before," she still had that gold vase chilling out in some warehouse somewhere too, in the multiverse. He can sense emotions from her though, she seems to be just about as complicated in that area as a person, even if she's not giving off an aura, at least not like he's used to. "I hope that's sufficient..." she looked like she might be moving to stand, un-crossing those rather fetching legs of her's. "Are you sure you're alright? you seem... troubled by something," she stood up, now towering over the man and his desk, looking down at him.
John Rizzo	Rizzo's expression hardens. "Nothing a stiff drink doesn't usually fix." His eyes seem as though they've seen a thousand stories unfold, or perhaps the same story over and over. "And nothing I didn't bring on myself. Don't worry over it, Miss Ferham." With a roll of his neck to pop out a kink, he opens the drawer again and pulls out a blank form. Scribbling upon it, he writes down a description of the job as he explains it back to her. "I'll find this thing for you and get it back to you on the swift. Then you can study it or whatever it is you want. These are my working hours, this is my hourly rate." He slides the form over to Ferham for her perusal, after he fills out a few areas indicating the costs associated. "This is a private lay," he explains. "I don't have one of those fancy databases like the blues do. I've got a computer, and I've got public information. I don't have all the same permissions they do, either, so it can take a while. If you're okay with that, and if the price is right, sign on the dotted line and I'm on the case." Notably, his hours are after sundown.
Ferham	"Huh, I see," she seems to take the man's word for it, either way, she didn't feel threatened by the haggard tall man, nodding to him. "It's alright, I understand," she felt a momentary pang of sympathy for the human, which he might be able to detect, as she looked away, then looked down at his form. "Private lay, huh?" she paused briefly, as she filled out his bank account payment information on a slip of paper on his desk, so he could get paid whenever he wanted. She'd authorize the transaction wirelessly. "Sounds.. intriguing," she said slowly, before leaning back up from the table. She turned to head back out towards the door, unless he stopped her. "I look forward to working together," her voice was not as purring now, more neutral.
John Rizzo	Rizzo eyes the information dubiously. Either she's taking him for a ride, or she really, really wants this thing. And judging by how vague she's been about the details, it could very well be both. "I'll get on it right away, then. I'll let you know of any unexpected charges." He pulls out a rolodex and begins rifling through it, hoping to find something within from previous experience that might help him out. Failing all that, it's the Eyes of Chaos. He looks up at the robot. "Take care of yourself. Paper said it's gonna rain cats and dogs tonight."
Ferham	"Unexpected charges, alright," she repeated to him, blinking a little as she watched the man go about his office work for a moment, before stopping at the door at his comment. "Raining cats and... nevermind," she shook her head. Again he balked her with his nonsensical slang. Ferham guessed she sort of had it coming, coming to a human detective like this. Still, there was something odd about him, she could feel it. Something that gnawed at him, but she didn't know what. She wanted to find out.