Open The Slups Crime Cartographer

Brows raised as the sable studied the drawing. It was impressive, to say the least - especially if the todd's claims were anything to be believed that he could create floor plans for just about anywhere in the city. Good quality and, if he was trusted, highly accurate. He might need to test that to be sure, but if he was as good as he said...well, there may be no shortage of work from the MAUL agent.

He sniffed, studying the sketchbook a short while longer as he scratched his whiskers. "Oooh I see." he chuckled. "Well, I s'ppose I know a few beasts who know beasts, might be able to find somethin' interesting if you have a beast in mind, but it ain't exactly my area. Any building you say?" he jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Wha' about the ships? they count or only what's on land wi' four walls?"
 
Ivo nose twitched a bit at the question, his good ear slightly falling to the side. It wasn't that he couldn't get onto the ships and map them. In fact, he did so before, even back when he was still running with maws. This however was never as worth it. Amount of obligations and hooks he had to spend to get onto a ship was quite extensive. After all, the only thing a city planner has to check on the ship is the quality of any construction goods coming in. That wasn't enough to let him visit any ship.

"Ships ye say? Aye, I could do that. Jus, it ain't cheap. Those need me extra work y'know?" He slowly yet surely spoke, looking down and closing his eyes for a moment to think. All while taking back his sketchbook and closing it with a soft thud. His ear twitched at an unexpected faint noise from a distance... Poor Falun. He thought, trying not to focus on whatever Marianna was subjecting her brother to. Instead, he once again looked at the beast in front of him.

"Lemmie tell ya this. ships cost a hook. A strong one. A secret that, gives ya power over t'beast. Somethin' so deep 'r dark that they would do anythin' to make sure it stays a secret. Of course, t' more influential targets t' more important of a ship I can do fer ya."
 
Matisse digested the information in silence for a few moments, nodding in understanding as his tailtip twitched. It was good to know the limitations and experience of this beast - as well as the cost. He noted the vagueness surrounding the concept of a hook and appreciated the creativity it might offer: what he was willing to offer was stymied, of course, by MAUL regulations. That wasn't to say, of course, that he didn't possess plenty which which he could provide down the line, and negotiations were always so much more enjoyable with a beast who had a sensible head on their shoulders.

"I getcha," the sable replied, idly scratching his stomach as he nodded. "Ships're doable then? good good, tha's pretty interesting. The bigger or more difficult the buildin' the better the information 'as to be. I'd ask what sort of fings I'd need to bring to you, but s'ppose that's my judgement, eh?" He chuckled, knocking back more of the putrid swill these locals called paletable in the area, and set the tankard down.

"You must be able t' get all over this city the way I see it." Amusement flickered in grey eyes as he regarded Ivo with curiosity. "You 'appen to know all sorts've beasts or got a bunch've keys or what? Way I figger it most beasts'd be arrested or outright killed for tresspass, wouldn't they?"
 
That was a red flag for the red fox. Such question, while friendly at a glance, was not something that would appear often. Especially as this one did seem to catch a drift in Ivo’s line of work and in general sounded smart enough to know this wasn’t a good question. Ivo, of course, was used to lying about his profession. Thus after twitching his nose for a second he responded in pretty regular manner.


“I have ma ways. Jus’ like ya said. Knowin’ beasts who know beats… it goes a long way.” That was his response. But his gaze was now sharper. This was dangerous beast, and something told Ivo it would be for the best to play it as safe as possible. “Sooo, ya wanna know somethin’? Hate ta stop now but y’know, time is money an’ all that shmuck.”
 
The todd was clearly reserved, too intelligent to relax his guard around a nosy commoner. Good. Ivo was showing all the signs of being the exact sort of beast Matisse could do good business with. Still, for now Matisse was going to have to think on which of the more serious targets he could use floor plans for. For now, he supposed it prudent to offer something to work with.

The sable chuckled, picking something from his fangs with a sharp claw. "Aaaah, trade secrets I suppose, right? How things stay your business, I 'magine. Alright, well...I could probably do with knowin' a little more about a friend's workplace, actually. Kitchens and scullery 'round the back of a nice place in the Trenches: not partic'ly well-guarded, but not the sort've place a beast like meself can wander into without a reason, know what I mean?" He tapped the sketchbook. "If you can do that, be very grateful indeed. As fer payment, well...Problem is information's only 'portant if you have something to do with it, right? I know a few beasts here 'n there but I ain't so sure it'd be worth your time. What'd the cost be? A Fogey officer's secrets? an innkeeper's tax fiddles? where my mate doin' paperwork for Justice goes on 'is little holidays?"
 
Ivo was still slightly at edge after previous question. Now, with such quick backing out, it seemed even more so as a test. Ivo did NOT liked being tested. At least he'd known better than to be offended and act as such. Still, he listened very carefully from now on, digesting each word many times in order to get the most from this beast. He leaned in, his attention now almost fully taken by the sable in front of him. His request seemed normal enough, but his mistake was to list his options. Fogey Officer's secrets? Tax Fiddles? Those were in their own league above the hearsays and eavesdropped words. But then came the one thing that made Ivo's maw go agape ever so slightly. Mate doin' paperwork for Justice. That didn't sound like a thing a commoner would share openly. Not one who was also asking for a map of a workplace. This beast must've been much more than they've chose to speak of.

The stakes were high, and Ivo knew it as he spoke, slightly faster than before. He aimed to go high, see where the limit was now. "Hmm, If I were t' ask ya 'bout Justice. I could use a secret, a good one, fer someone workin' at archives. That, or equivalent is me price. Not big, but not small either." He then paused for a second, considering he might have spoken too hastily and continued in more controlled, casual tone. "Naturally, I need a name fer that workplace. Maybe it ain't that costly if it ain't too big. Just name it and I'll think."
 
The sable's nose wrinkled, something between distaste and amusement hovering upon his handsome features. He leaned in a little closer, voice dropping somewhat as he spoke.

"Well, see, 'e was a mate of mine when we was a bit younger. Bit rough 'round the edges but good type, you know? Well, turns out he can read an' write - never told me - and got 'isself started as a cleaner for the offices for Justice. Well I don't know how he pulls it but next thing I know he's a clerk for the office and gettin' all these airs an' graces. Won't associate wi' scum like me, you know? Name's Buxton now, though I knew 'im as Siltback. Reckon it's time I got a bit even with him, so if you need any papers signed or somethin' looked at in an archive...well, doubt he's allowed all too far but there must be something I can make him get for you.”
 
Ivo pondered for a moment what was said. Already knowing past and current name of this beast as well as their apparent sudden rise to power was something... but not enough to justify his work. Not yet. Besides, Ivo felt as if the sable was trying to dodge the answer, instead trying to assure this little thing was enough. Especially words: '...there must be something I can make him get for you.' felt like trying to negotiate with the system Ivo set. He did ask for name of the workplace to gauge the price, now instead hearing the name of the beast he was in need of secrets and hooks to utilize them.

But, there was a way out that would be most beneficial to Ivo. One that made him grim slightly, showing off his fangs.

"Well... Am still neenin' name of workplace ye wan' me t' give ye plans of. What ya said is intriguin'. If ye can pass a paper from me and gettem t' sign it... That would do. If not, I s'pose I need t' hear sum more 'bout 'em."
 
The sable's face creased in friendly relief to hear Ivo agree: it was good to do business. "Papers'll be no problem," he chuckled, "only need one paw unbroken for writin', eh? I'll make him sign it as part of the drubbin'" Of course curiosity nagged at him to know more about the nature of the documents this intriguing vulpine would want passed through, but he elected not to pursue it for now. Such matters were inconsequential compared to the value of a new colleague in his network.

"Now I ain't say it's a workplace as such, but a fancier house in the Trenches" Matisse continued. "Scullery an' kitchens. I can give you the address in your liddle book there if you'll let me, or draw it at least - ain't much of a writer." He grinned at Ivo. "'Long as you don't mind my scribblin' in the middle of your pretty drawin's, else I'll have to give the directions verbal-like."
 
Ivo was very apprehensive to the idea. It wasn't bad, as he would be able to easily manage figuring out where it was anyways. Perks of having great memory to such things, especially if this fellow tried to swindle them. The main issue was that this beast had way too brutal approach to his liking. To outsmart was better than to intimidate when it came to holding ropes. And since that was Ivo's goal, he decided to curb the enthusiasm.

Pulling out a loose piece of paper from between the pages of his sketchbook, Ivo passed it to the sable with wary look along one of his pencils. "Go on. Show me whatcha after. Jus, tell me ya can get that signature without gettin' 'em to read too much or breakin' 'em."
 
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