This man...was steadily becoming annoying.

Of course she knew how those tales ended. She never forgot things. But her point had been that Jensen's constant badgering made it less likely for her to listen when real danger was around. Sure, she still tried to pay attention in case one of those instances was real, but didn't part of the responsibility fall on the handler to not over-react? It seemed to be a two way street to her.

"And what makes you so certain I'm trusting? Just because I don't feel that it's in your nature to cause someone harm? You may scam someone or something of the like, but there is a difference between that and being dangerous. You could perhaps have the ability to cause harm, but not the nature. As for the rest of the world, the likelyhood something would happen while I'm at the bookstore is no higher than the auction. Life is full of chances. I'm not going to sit in fear of the 'could-happen's." She remarked with a deep sigh. She considered just continuing on to her apartment, but that would allow her companion to have some form of victory. Plus, it would also show him where she lived. Neither of which seemed preferable at the moment.

"As for the 'whys', perhaps part of my rebellion is increasing his scrutiny. But I don't have many other options for the time being. My cage can't get much smaller than it already is, and something is bound to snap eventually." Thankfully, they had reached the bookstore, and she nodded to the man at the front desk. "Afternoon Mr. Koreander."

"Afternoon Evelyn. There are a few new first editions upstairs in the cabinet this week if you're interested. No Doyle though." The old man looked curiously at David, pushing his glasses up his nose and scrutinizing him.

"Thanks, I'll take a look. If my companion doesn't behave himself, feel free to toss him out." Evelyn said with a lighthearted hop up the stairs, moving up towards the second story with a determined gait.

It was, undeniably, the most that Evelyn had said that night about herself. The lady was quick to go into long theories and explanations of his own behaviors, picking apart the smallest details about him to tell him what he already knew about himself. However, once he turned the tables and did the same thing to her, Pidge balked. She didn’t like having the spotlight turned on her actions any more than David did. Or at least she did not like someone telling her that her rebellion was foolish. Pidge probably wanted him to confirm that her having a bodyguard was foolishness. Instead he was saying that she was the problem. “No, I’m saying that you are too trusting because you are. Because nothing has happened to you, you’ve become complacent, satisfying yourself with the thought that you are safe. Can you really be sure that I will bring you no harm? Or is it just the threat of Watson that keeps me from doing so?”

Evelyn had been correct in saying that it was within his capabilities to hurt her, but had been wrong about it being in his nature. He had a glimpse into a dark future, one in which he took pride in his role as champion in pit fighting. In that dream he wasn’t armed with anything more than his mutation, but that was more than lethal enough. A person’s nature could change drastically when the right moment arises. David shook his head no, knowing full well that he did have a damaging nature. So far there hadn’t been any reason why he should hurt her. “You must not have read the paper a few months ago. A lady and a little girl were brutally assaulted whilst leaving a library. Now if they were killed when leaving a place that doesn’t make money off their books, how is a bookstore any safer?” It was an extreme example of course, but one that had really happened. The story had happened in a city in New York state, which was probably why it didn’t make a difference to the people of New York City. In the New York Times it had been just the smallest of blurbs.

“Let’s say that something does snap. You’re betting that you’ll be given a bit more leash when that happens,” David said. Perhaps it was just his habit of looking out for the worst possibility, but he was already thinking of other outcomes. “Or you might end up not being allowed out of your home at all. I’d say that if you can drop such a pretty penny on a desk, and since your parents are the ones paying for the bodyguard, that you don’t necessarily need to have a job to spend your hours in. Your mum and da might very well decide that if you can’t be trusted with a bodyguard outside the home, that you would have to be confined to inside it.” Before she could argue about her mutation keeping that from happening, David continued on. “Homes use to be built with a confined area for unmentionables, children with physical or mental defects that were hidden away from the outside world. Such children would be forgotten by society.”

They had arrived at the bookstore without any incident other than a debate. Certainly better than him being shot at. You didn’t need to be experienced in reading people to know Evelyn had been here more than a few times. He had never stepped foot into this shop, so he had no clue who the man with the glasses was. Also Mr. Koreander knew not only Evelyn’s name but what she would be looking for as well. David gave the man a polite smile. He wasn’t going to cause any trouble to the book man. “I don’t reckon you would have a copy of Heliodorus of Emesa’s Aethiopica?”

Evelyn was beginning to feel annoyed with the conversation and the direction it had taken. David was quite insistent that she was too trusting, and it was going to get her into trouble. The sad thing was, he may be right. It was easy to deny things that were obviously not true, but his points were partially valid. That irked her. Usually, she was the only perceptive one in the conversation, and David was beginning to dig into her territory. "Maybe I'm a bit complacent, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong about you in particular. Unless you want me to be wrong. What, are you going to beat me up to prove your point? Send me home with my tail between my legs? 'Watson' can give me a little space, I'm not completely helpless." She squinted at him and tried not to let her irritation show.

She rolled her eyes at the next story, and crossed her arms in front of her chest, exhaling through her nose. "That's the point: a bookstore isn't any safer. Neither is a car, or a sidewalk, or just minding my own business in an auction. Stuff can happen anytime, and having someone hover and try to keep an eye on every shadow and creaking floorboard isn't going to teach me how to deal with danger. So, you got a dangerous edge. Why are you so insistent to prove that and why are you trying so hard to prove I'm naive?" He was so irritating.

But he kept going. He starting pointing out what could happen if she pushed too hard and her parents decided to try to force her to stay at home. It was like she was twelve again and she had to worry about being grounded. She liked to think she was beyond that point. "I'll take my chances. If my parents think they can lock me up and throw away the key they have another thing coming. Trying to pretend a problem doesn't exist won't make it go away." This trip was starting to look less worthwhile and more troublesome. She wondered if she could just ditch him somewhere and find her way home from there. It could be possible, but the second story didn't have any good escapes and her friend was fairly clever and might guess what she would try. It was rare someone matched wits with her.

And she was glad for that.

In the bookstore, Mr. Koreander mused over his question for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "I don't believe I do sir, but I know the antique shop down the way has a few pieces and the title sounds familiar. You might luck out there." Evelyn could hear the voices drift up the stairs as she approached the display case, and scanned the titles facing her. There was an older edition of The Great Gatsby, and a few more titles and were too faded to read.

David chuckled and shook his head no. The capability to harm Evelyn did exist, and given that she had figured out so much about him in such a brief period of time, it wouldn’t be unwise to knock her memories of him out. Most of his actions were born out of self preservation. Those that weren’t were of equally selfish reasons. Occasionally, when that annoying part of him known as a conscience spoke up, he did think of others. You probably could argue that it was selfishly motivated if you bought into the entire karma thing. “I don’t think that’s wise. Watson wouldn’t like it for one. Secondly I did tell you that my parents did raise me to be a gentleman. Wouldn’t be proper of me to lay a finger on you now would it?”

The rest of her rant he was willing to ignore. It struck him as just an attempt to win him over to her point of view on the entire situation. Honestly, David couldn’t care less. Her life’s problems were of no concern to him, provided that her bodyguard didn’t hunt him down for her actions. She would have made a perfect mark for one of his crimes. She was wealthy, which was always a good thing when you’re looking to wring a profit out of someone. It was always easier for him to sweet talk a lass into doing things for him than trying to win over a man. Men often needed action, women were satisfied with words. Her commenting on his accent just furthered his belief that American women were fascinated by an Englishman. Only problem was that she had figured out his game, and he had yet to persuade her otherwise. Pity, for he always did enjoy the chance to spend time with an attractive young woman.

Pidge left him on the lower level of the bookstore to hunt for some new novel. He didn’t worry himself much over it for right now. Of course he would have to catch up to her in a little bit, just as a security measure against the bodyguard he was sure was drawing closer. The man would most likely check in at the bookstore. It seemed to be a common haunt for the girl, and it had been a straight forward path from the auction house to here. “Sorry, but I’m not interested in the collection of antique books. The idea of them is to read them, not keep them on a shelf for their monetary value.” With a polite smile to excuse himself he headed up to where his captor was.

Mr. Koreander simply shrugged at David's sentiments. While he understood a passion for reading, there was also something to the collectivity and history to be considered. Patron's like Evelyn seemed to be fond of this fact, and sought out particularly significant works to purchase. While she read a great deal, she also bought a bit more to keep out of Sentimentality. "Monetary value is not the only reason for owning a rare book you know." She mused once the echoes heard her companion approach. She skimmed the shelves a bit more, gazing at the glass and ignore the echoes that bounced back, particularly the ones about herself. It wasn't super reflective, so it didn't annoy her yet.

"A book, especially an old one, shows little traces of other eras and history. A dedication to a family member, hundreds of years old but still relevant... Antiques are interesting that way, even books. I suppose that's the fun part of the auction. You get to see little traces of time." She turned from she shelf, and shrugged at her companion. She wandered a little more through the shelves, then finding nothing of particular interest, Evelyn wandered back downstairs.

She gave a smile to the store owner and a thank you before pushing the door back open and heading out to the street. Some of the fun of this adventure had been stolen, and she figured there was nothing left to do but head home. Jensen would probably be here soon and perhaps it would be best to get back to her apartment before a confrontation between David and her bodyguard resulted. As much as she wanted to hope David wouldn't follow her, that seemed unlikely considering how obnoxiously stubborn he had turned out to be.

Next time, she was kidnapping someone more obedient.

The echoes listened for footsteps, while wandering distantly and waiting for any trouble. Traffic was slow, and there were no hints her bodyguard was on the trail yet. Perhaps he had more trouble loading the desk after all. Or Mr. Koreander could have called him. That was also likely and had happened before. Not that she minded, really. She respected the elderly man and knew he was looking out for her. She didn't understand what the differences was though, why Jensen's protection bothered her over the bookstore owners. Perhaps it was because she wanted to feel like Jensen though she could take care of herself. It hurt a little that he didn't. A stranger, they could make that mistake. But he had known her since a child and she still waited for the day to be treated like an adult.

“What is the point though of having something that is so fragile for a bit of family history?” David asked Evelyn, switching which one of his hands carried his jacket, “You’re also facing something that can’t be displayed easily for something so small. Some of us here in New York don’t have a luscious studio to showcase our first editions.” History didn’t interest David as much, at least not the anthropological aspect of it. He didn’t question why people gave a book to someone, or who had held onto that antique sword. What he wanted to know was why this strategy had succeeded, why Custard had failed, how boundary lines had changed throughout the years. “Best to look for something smaller I’d say. Smaller, easier to display, and less prone to degrading.”

Not that he was much to boast on that last point. Maps were as likely to fall apart as books, if not more so. Books were a luxury when they first were printed oh so many years ago. People were more likely to keep them as a treasure than a map. Maps were folded up, rolled, crumpled, torn, and used more frequently. A book’s spine can only be broken once, but a map could be ripped many more times. At least with his antique of choice you could place it in a frame for ease of display and to keep it safe and secure. “Besides, it was more than just holding onto something for history or monetary purposes. Why would you want a piece of literature that you cannot read without fear of destroying it? Old books loose their glue, pages can rot.”

If her intention had been to purchase anything then this stop into the bookstore had been fruitless. Likewise, if Evelyn had been trying to get away from David, she had been better off with other plans. However if she had been trying to get a little more freedom from her golden cage then she h ad been wildly successful. David hurried out behind Pidge. For now he was going to stay close to her. Even without holding onto his arm he was still her captive. Until he could convince her to go back to the auction house or her home, he needed to stay close to her. Problem was that Pidge didn’t seem to view either as a viable option this evening.

Sledge's remark had been simple enough, but the sentence was revealing in it's own way. His regard towards the books and their anthropological value sent the echoes chattering, and Evelyn casually considered what they said. [Family history, considered invaluable by companion. Fragile objects considered too much work, too risky. Would prefer something with value and long term protectability. That seemed like a simple enough assessment. He was a cautious man, not so much a gambler but someone who like to take calculated risks. He ran on the wrong side of the law when he was quite certain he could get away with it. He would probably bet only if he knew he'd come out on top. Life was about getting by with intelligence, so perhaps he was someone who needed to outsmart others to survive. His disregard of family suggested maybe he had a bad or perhaps non-existent relationship with his own.

"You don't hold much value in the past. I take it yours isn't one you care to hold onto. You may get by with a job or two that's unstable, but I take it your someone who'd prefer knowing where the future was holding and don't like unnecessary risks. Risks like letting a young woman walk home alone, in case something should befall her and you'd be to blame." Evelyn said slowly, glancing at the man next to her. She pushed her hair from her face and considered. "You fight to put yourself in positions where you hold the upper hand. But that says maybe you've been somewhere where the upper hand was not so easily gained. You've fought to get where you are, whether that's physically or just with your intellect. Since it took so much to get ahead, looking back would be a waste..." The echoes searched for a moment, then she continued.

"And yet... you can't stop yourself from those all too human tendencies to find value in things. You just hold onto something smaller. Something smaller, not prone to degrading... I take it that would be something like the ring you wear around your neck?" It was something difficult to catch, only when he looked a certain way or his shirt pressed against the object against his chest. Without the jacket he had been stuffed underneath, her echoes could pick up more. "Something as subtle as being a gentleman even should you cross the line of the law. Everyone has something they value. I just happen to enjoy books, amongst other things."

She paused at a street corner, considering which direction to go. The apartment would be to the left, but there was a coffee shop along the way she could stop in. At least she'd have something tangible for her efforts to escape. Deciding, she started that direction, and continued speaking after giving him a moment to consider her analysis and prove her wrong, should he wish to try so.

"But let's talk about books, shall we. You're under the assumption that there is nothing one could read in a book beyond the words. There are hundreds of stories in antiques beyond what is directly in front of you. I read books, not just for the stories the authors planned to tell, but for the ones they didn't. Surely you're smart enough to realize that not everything is what meets the eye?" She smirked slightly and kept walking towards the cafe gradually coming into view.

"I found a rare edition of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes several months ago. The pages were worn, the spine was cracked, certainly. But they were worn in the upper left corner only, not one had been folded over, and great care was shown although it was evident the title was well read. There was the musty smell of the antique shop and old paper, but also the lightest aroma of a woman's perfume. The book had been a gift, from the owners father, and by the wear she had read the novel perhaps hundreds of times before it was sold. It may not be a long story, but those little details fascinate me." She remarked.

“I do put value in the past, but it does me no good to know why Uncle Jack gave little Lucy that copy of A Child’s Garden of Verses. It was their own personal affair, and why would it make any difference to anyone? You learn a little bit of their family history, but it is theirs. History is valuable when the information you get from it can be put to use.” Probably why the only history that held much interest for David was the one had applications to life. Learning how this country came to be came in handy for becoming an official citizen, one he managed to get a travel visa that would pass close inspection. Studying the history of war and battles allowed him to plan tactics. “Dinnit you find it annoying in school when they insisted on teaching you a subject you found absolute rubbish? You look as though you wouldn’t be much for PT.”

That bit was a shot in the dark. Call it cliché, but often if people were bookish, which it was safe to say that Pidge was, they weren’t much for intense physical activity. Add to that her less than amazing social graces. Those that did enjoy physical sports didn’t want to bother with someone who wasn’t personable. She wouldn’t be the kind that you would want to be on a team. As she had said, he was in fact, not fond of uncalculated risks. If he was going to state something about this girl who was practically a stranger to him, he was going to go with what his instincts told him.

Her instincts were telling her that he was a fighter. “When you’re a smaller guy like meself you have to assert yourself. Some blokes just need a little more inspiration to take the cotton out of their ears.” He said it casually, as if she had asked him what he thought about the evening news reporters. Just because he was a fighter didn’t mean that David was a professional of it. His method of fighting was unrefined, filled with using his elbows, punches, kicking, whatever it took to give him a bit of room. “Intellectually, it’s not a matter of being challenged. I have a tendency to draw in idiots.”

She mentioned the ring that he wore around his neck, and he raised an eyebrow at her. The ring hung there all the time, and he forgot about it more often than not. It did have meaning, though not the one that people were so quick to give it in England. “So you caught that did you? Care to puzzle out the importance of it? After all, you do seem to be fond of putting meaning to otherwise meaningless trinkets.”

"See, that's just it though. I don't think you really value history so much as what history can do for you. You said it yourself. 'History is valuable when the information you get from it can be put to use.' Maybe it's someone else's history, but I put value in that. I value the information itself, not what can be done with it. The stories of the past, no matter how trifle, matter to me. I don't read a book because I think it will necessarily do something for me. I read because I enjoy the story." she shrugged her shoulders, doubting he would really understand or even listen to what she was saying. He was headstrong, determined that his way of thinking was right.

Then again, so was she.

She shook her head, and then chuckled slightly at the man's remark. "I didn't attend public school beyond the point the Playbacks started. While I didn't much care for any of the more physically oriented subjects, I never really regarded them as 'rubbish'. It was tedious, and I was terrible at it, but if I had learned things then I wouldn't be so lacking in physical strength now, would I? Sometimes, the things that are annoying are beneficial in the long run. Haven't you been trying to convince me that ditching my handler was a bad thing? That's something else that is annoying in the present. Time will show if it could have been beneficial as well." She shrugged. The cafe was getting closer, and she debated stopping or continuing on for home.

He seemed surprised that she mentioned the ring, which told her it was something he rarely removed. It was like it was a part of him, and someone commenting on it was almost like they'd commented on the color of his hair. She shrugged at his question.

"Likely old, you don't acknowledge it much, not like someone who would wear a ring of a close companion or a significant other. If it was someone important who gave it to you, the separation is probably old enough it's more of a reminder, or a comfort item. Comfort item seems less likely, you don't mess with it like most people would. Piece of your past maybe, life you left behind?" She shrugged. There wasn't a lot to go off of without seeing the ring and knowing what it looked like. She was shooting in the dark, which she had a feeling he would be rather happy about. People seemed to like putting a know it all in their place.

"By that logic, time will also say iffin ditching your handler is in fact, a bad, bad idea," he pointed out, a wicked grin on his face. It was as if he found joy in her admitting that there was even a remote possibility that she had been wrong. Indeed he did, but he had smiled because she had slipped and implied that his earlier observation was correct. Surely she had been enjoying putting him in his place earlier, it must bother her that she had just turned the tables on herself, and he had caught it. If it didn’t, David was going to make sure that it did.

The ring around his neck was proving to be an interesting distraction from whatever it was that they had been doing. With his free hand David untied his tie, undid the top button, and fished out the thin chain that held the object of question. “Alright, so it’s important to me, but it has no importance?” David asked. He needed a minute to puzzle out what exactly Pidge had decided. Sounded to him like she had said it had no emotional attachment to it. A missed shot. The ring actually did mean something to him, and he enjoyed having some one try to add new meaning to it. “I’ll tell you this much, you were right about it being old. That alone means that it has to be part of me history doesn’t it? Could hardly have flown over without having a change of clothes, and seeing as it’s old enough for me to forget about, it had to ‘ave been on me.”

It was a simple gold band, unadorned by any design or gem. The band was thicker than one that you would normally see worn on a finger, and even with it being trapped underneath his shirt while he had been sweltering, the gold was not tarnished. He might forget that it was there, but the ring was obviously cared for. Then again you could hardly expect him to let a single piece of clothing, or in this case, a single accessory be seen in less than immaculate condition. “They say that a ring is a promise. This one’s hardly any different. Might help you if you stop thinking of me in a logical sense. Forget about what your, what was the term you used? Playbacks?… are telling you. To be honest, whatever they are I ‘ave serious doubts in them.”

Evelyn was visibly miffed at his smug response to her statement. Admitting that ditching Jensen might have been a bad idea was hard enough without him rubbing her nose in it. In fact, being stuck with this companion was half the reason for her regretting it so much. The auction could have been twice as enjoyable as dealing her quick tongued companion. There was no winning a conversation with him. He was a wordsmith through and through. It didn't matter what she said, he was finding ways to twist it anyway.

She kept walking past the coffeehouse. Home was looking like the better option at this point.

The ring was revealed, a good quality gold that hadn't tarnished, plain. The level of care didn't help reveal much. It just put her back at her previous assumption that it had meaning, but that meaning was very sentimental and old. She sighed and pushed her hair from her face, giving a shake of her head. "Playbacks are different from the Echoes. The playbacks are what makes my memory flawless. The echoes are what analyze things like your rings. They aren't perfect, and you can have doubts in them if you want. All they do is observe, and try to find conclusions based on those observations.

"Tell me: You learn to watch for people's tells, read their body language and act on it. Are you assumptions correct all the time? People may typically glance one direction or the other when they remember or when they lie, but another person knows these eye cues and can force themselves to act otherwise." She crossed her arms and took a left, the apartment building within sight. A limo was parked outside, and Jensen was leaning up against the door, tapping his foot impatiently on the sidewalk. She sighed, and turned towards David.

"But you know what? You win this round. I don't know what your ring means, and I probably should have just stayed at the auction with my bodyguard. Feel better?" Her hands went to her hips, and she heard a stern cough behind her. She didn't turn, but her mouth curled into a deeper frown in response.

“Now hold on a minute,” David said, aware that he had pressed one of Pidge’s buttons a little too hard. She may have been irked with the conversation that they were having, but he was finding it to be entertaining. He needed a challenge every now and then, and as of late his marks had proven to be easier to play than a triangle. Knowing that Pidge had a body guard that was armed was enough of a deterrent to keep David from trying to liberate some funds from her, but he still wanted to see what he could get out of her. “Playbacks? Echos? You’ve lost me. What is it that you do?” Common tactic for him whenever things started going sour. People generally were able to open up more when the subject had become about them. Additionally he really needed to have some understanding of how the girl’s powers worked. He managed to find a way to turn the bank investigation off of him by using the psychometric powers to cast doubt. A person may be able to see into the past, but that did not mean that they were going to be able to comprehend the sight of his powers in action.

Young Miss Evelyn questioned his ability to predict how people would act. Now it was his turn to be miffed. If he wasn’t good at it, real good, how would he be out walking the streets this night? Police would have had enough evidence that they could have held him in jail for more than just the night it took Charlie to get bail together when he was a kid. Had that been the case he probably wouldn’t have discovered his powers in the first place. Saying as much though would admit more to Pidge than he cared to divulge. His job might not be the most honorable, but David took pride in what he did, and he knew that he was good at it. “I thought that I wasn’t one to take risks,” was all that he said in response. It was neither an admitance nor a denial of what he did.

The bodyguard approached them, looking none to please with either of them. David gave Watson a broad smile, and glanced at Pidge. She wasn’t happy with him, and the proximity of her bodyguard had sunk her into a deeper funk. His gaze softened and David took pity on her. Time to use that wicked mind and silver tongue of his for some good. “Evening. Hope you don’t mind my borrowing Ms. Evelyn. We got on the subject of British literature.” At this point David turned his attention to Pidge, continuing a conversation that had not really existed. “You may be fond of Doyle, but my preference will always be for Mr. Tolkien.” It was a hint for Pidge about the meaning behind the gold ring that hung around his neck, and a subtle hint as to what he wanted her to play along with. If her observational powers and capabilities of assumption were as good as she boasted she should pick up on how he was trying to take the heat off. Once more he turned towards the bodyguard. “Thank you. I haven’t had such a good debate since Bradford. Would it be alright if we continued? Ms. Evelyn did seem interested in Yorkshire life.”

Evelyn paused as David requested, and glanced at him as he spoke up. She put a hand on her hip and rubbed her forehead, still a bit frustrated by him, but somewhat baited by the remark he put forth. "It's a little bit complicated. The echoes were my first power. It's pretty much like having a bunch of voices in my head telling me details about my surroundings. Body language, posture, behavior... Information, really. Playbacks are something that came later. I don't forget, and those memories replay themselves. Information 'echoes'. Memories 'playback'." She shrugged the information off as being nothing particularly interesting. She tried not to go into too much detail. She was always skittish talking about her powers, especially when she didn't know someone that well. If she said too much, he'd probably point it out anyway. Then again, maybe he wouldn't. He was an odd mixture of gentleman and conman; sometimes polite, sometimes a little more undermining.

David's comment to her statement about reading people had a little challenge to it. He seemed to think his methods were flawless, and it was true, he didn't like to take risks. He liked a bet he could win. But every game had it's risks. 75% were good odds, but 25% of the time you'd still loose. Statistics made things random. It was hard to count on any odds.

Then things shifted in an odd way. David started talking to Jensen, and the bodyguard was politely listening. Annoyed, certainly, but he wasn't grabbing her by the arm and dragging her off like he might have if she were younger. As an adult, he was giving her more room, but he still cast a big shadow standing behind her; figuratively speaking.

"She knows better than to wander off with strangers, whether or not she is engaged by the conversation. While I'm sure your conversation was invigorating, I'm afraid it's behavior that shouldn't be encouraged." He glanced at Evelyn and she toed the ground in disgruntlement. The echoes, however, caught the reference, and noted the slight engraving on the inside of the ring she didn't get a good look at earlier in the conversation. He was wearing the 'one ring'.... that was certainly off from what the echoes previously started to guess.

"Tolkien's works are certainly engaging, but I appreciate the quick wit and cleverness that come with a good mystery novel." She said. Jensen looked irritated by the question, but sighed, and nodded his head towards the cafe.

"I need to finish a few things, you can talk at the cafe. Stay. Out. Of. Trouble." He firmly remarked, then turned and started back towards the limo. Evelyn sighed and grumbled, rubbing her forehead and glaring slightly at David.

"Haven't we debated enough about 'literature' for one day?" She remarked, but this time there was almost a slight smile hidden in the end of the statement. She wouldn't admit his irritating conversation had been a little fun. She was annoyed, but it had been a long time since someone kept her on her toes mentally.

There had been more to smooth talking to Watson than getting Pidge to cheer up a little. He had a thing about being shot at, and Pidge had told him that her bodyguard had good aim. At this distance even the most inaccurate person with a firearm could get a killing shot without hassle. “Understandable sir. Shall we say that I’m mostly to blame? Had I known that she was already being accompanied I wouldn’t have suggested leaving the auction house to begin with.” When trying to make someone feel as though they got things right, make it seem as though you were in the wrong. It could be a risky move in this situation, since it was implying that David had been the one who had lead Evelyn astray, and not the other way around. His intention was that by saying things that way, Watson would think that David had no clue the mess that he was in. Being polite and looking a little surprised could, and his experience, often translated to naivety and innocence.

The two were granted a few minutes to themselves to let them wrap up their conversation. For Evelyn it meant that she had been allowed more freedom, for David, no bullet to his head. On the whole he thought he was getting the better end of the deal. He slapped the back of his neck with a flat palm, as though to squash a mosquito that had bitten him. A sign for his gang that meant they were being bugged. Speak with caution. “Say what you will about the man, but Tolkien knew how to give his audience what they wanted. I still say that Doyle was too stiff necked. Then again he was a physician. Had to show off his knowledge.”

He had had enough of talking about literature, though technically they had not talked about it. What David wanted to do was converse with Evelyn in a way that should her bodyguard listen in to the conversation nothing would be compromised. The last thing he needed was someone who was hired to protect think catch on that he was less than honest. Having Pidge think that he was a conman (technically speaking she was correct), was bad enough. She wasn’t any concern on her own, but with an armed guard she did have a little bit of danger to her. “Now I believe that you had some questions about Bradford. Why don’t you answer some of my questions on New York in exchange?”

David was clever, certainly, but she could have guessed that just from a brief encounter. The more they talked, the more he proved he was able to think on his feet. Admitting he was in the wrong to Jensen had been risky, but Jensen's problem at the moment was with Evelyn, so it was a smart maneuver. As the bodyguard leaned up against the limo, Evelyn moved forward and yanked the door of the cafe open. She frowned at his statement, the echoes quickly piecing together the hidden meanings.

"There was a bit more to Doyle than what met the eye though. He may have been known for his detective tales, but some of his writing he had the most pride in was left un-appreciated. Tolken eventually got the recognition for his work, even the earlier pieces. Doyle is rarely known for anything other than Sherlock Holmes." The subtle messages were there. Evelyn felt under appreciated, and she wanted to be recognized for her abilities. She could do a lot with her powers if someone gave her the chance. While she adored the Sherlock Holmes stories, she wondered what Doyle could have accomplished if his audience hadn't forever tied his name to the tales.

"I could answer a question or two about New York, but I'm not sure how exciting you'd find the information." That was a bit harder to word. She wasn't sure she could compare herself to the bustling city, but it would be an interesting attempt. She stepped up to the counter, ordered herself a latte and while she paid she continued. "The museums and more artistic venues are worth looking into, not just the typical tourist attractions though." Saying she liked art was an understatement. Art was as much a part of her as her mutation was.