>> <”Yes sir. Thank you. The cook is my big brother and my family does own this restaurant. Is there anything else I can get you sir? Anything at all?”>

<"Perhaps that fried green tea ice cream,"> Slate replied, with a small, amused smile for the younger teenager's obvious enthusiasm. Part of that smile may have been for what the corners of his eyes were seeing: raised feline eyebrows, and a magically hovering tea cup.

>> “Please tell me that was just incongruent crap.”

That small smile of his may have upgraded to a slightly satisfied smirk.

>> “No. It’s awesome! Do you speak French too?”

<"But of course,"> Slate replied, with a humble nod of his head, and a perfectly gentlemanly French accent. <"And you?">

Trying to keep his grin contained to his eyes, Slate faced the queen again. "As you can see," he understated, "the language barrier in Egypt will not be a problem. <Not in the least,>" he added, in a dialect fairly local to where she would soon be going. Presuming, of course, that he still had the cat mutant's attention.

The tea finally found it’s way to Sara’s mouth and her eye brows retained their normal shape just before Johnny asked abut French. Then the eye brow quirked up again and Sara nearly choked. “You speak French.”

Johnny beamed again and held his thumb and forfinger up. <”A little.”> Johnny said back in French before turning to his feline. “I’m in my third year in high school.” Then changing languages again he nodded to Slate. <”I’ll be right back with the ice cream.”>

Sara slid her cup back down to the table and she sighed. Kicking herself for not knowing that fact about Johnny.

"As you can see, the language barrier in Egypt will not be a problem. <Not in the least,>"

Sara’s attention returned to Slate, after she watched Johnny walk away. She knew he could probably keep his mouth shut, but it still worried her knowing he held some of the information he did. “I suppose not.” She tilted her head and picked up another gem from the box. Wondering exactly how hard these things were to squeeze out when they passed through you. “I’ll make your delivery.” Sara said, as she held the gem closer for further inspection. “I just have one more question. Can I keep some of these?”

It was curious to watch the feline's reaction to all this; in particular, it seemed to surprise her that their young waiter was studying the French language. If choking on her tea was any indication of surprise, that is. Curious. She must think herself very close to the boy, to be taken aback by a gap in her knowledge. The Dragon Inn had certainly been the right place to look for her. He might have to come here again, in the future, to keep up his own ties to her through Johnny.

That, and the food really was quite good, once it stopped disobeying him. Slate polished off the last of his white rice as the boy went to get his green tea ice cream.

>> “I’ll make your delivery. I just have one more question. Can I keep some of these?”

Slate looked back to the cat feline. His baby blue eyes were measuring. When his reply came, it was after a clear moment of hesitance. "I am sorry, but I will only be providing you with enough to gems to complete this commission; any spares you may have afterwards, I must ask you to return. The more often this aspect of the gems is used--particularly, the more often it is used by mutants in New York City--the more chance there is for it to be traced back to the man I am protecting. I hope you understand."

Furthermore, he hoped that was not some manner of deal-breaker. He did indeed intend to watch how these gems were distributed carefully. On the common market, set in rings and earrings, it was unlikely that they would be ingested; even more unlikely that a person intelligent enough to swallow a piece of jewelry would then try to speak a foreign language, link said speaking to the gem, and succeed in tracing it back from store to middle man to primary dealer to Kabal to Dragon Speak. There was little risk there. Allowing a feline who knew their use to carry them around the city where their source was hidden? He could not imagine that being a good idea. Not until he had properly dealt with the problem at its source, in any case, and he was still gathering the resources to do that.

(*Eye brow raises.* could Johnny now be under Slate’s protection? If so, this could make for some interesting future plotting… I already have ideas.)

It was disappointing to be told she couldn’t keep one of two of those gems when she was finished. They would make some job she was hired to do, so much easier. People don’t realize the power of language until they are stuck somewhere without it. Learning to adapt can be made much more simpler when you can be told how to do so, rather than a guessing game filled with hard knock lessons and endless charades. However, Sara could respect the boy’s wishes and she agreed with his reasoning.

She would have to just take the chance she could with the gems to remember as many simple words as she could. Would they even allow her to do that? She glanced over her finger tips holding a sapphire, and into Slate’s eyes. “I understand. When I return from the delivery, you will have every gem given back to you. Be honest with me Slate, and I will be honest with you. I know better than to crap where I eat.” Lovely analogy but very true. Sara lived a less than honest life but when it came to getting the essentials in life, like food, drink, and cell phone, she knew to make friends. To be nice. That and she needed the money. Speaking of witch. “Before we seal things completely, exactly how much is this commission?”

Sara set the gem down just as Johnny reappeared in the door way with Slate’s ice cream. The younger boy set the ice cream down and disappeared out of the room again, though his foot steps didn’t go nearly as far as Sara would have liked to hear them go. He was on the other side of the door frame again.

Sara glanced over Slate’s shoulder then sighed in defeat. She chose to gnaw on the rest of her shrim rather than chew him out in front of her business.

((ooc: Oh noes, the cat is plotting! Run Johnny, run!))

>> “I understand. When I return from the delivery, you will have every gem given back to you. Be honest with me Slate, and I will be honest with you. I know better than to crap where I eat.”

Baby blue eyes blinked. What a peculiar phrasing. However, he believed he understood the point; he ducked his head into a small bow. "Dishonesty has its place and time, but that is usually not at a contracting table. You can be assured that I have been honest with you, and that I appreciate that the favor has been returned."

>> “Before we seal things completely, exactly how much is this commission?”

Slate gave a grateful nod to the bearer of his ice cream, which did indeed look as intriguing as had been described to him in the past: a round ball of lightly tanned batter, with the nearly neon tint of green from the chilled ice cream inside seeping its own color through from inside. Fried ice cream. The process of its cooking slightly baffled him, yet here it was, sitting on a white plate in front of him. Perhaps the next time he returned, he could request to watch its creation. He picked up the provided spoon, and tapped lightly at its side.

Despite his urge to study this strange culinary phenomenon further, however, it would be more polite to answer her question, first. "The commission is for a three day assignment; the larger parts of the first and third day will simply be travel time. On the second day, you will meet with the dealer in the afternoon at his shop; the meeting should take approximately one hour. If I understand correctly, most of that time will involve him being in the backroom, examining the gems for himself. If he is pleased with their quality--which I am fairly confident that he will be--than you may leave the gems with him. Airfare, hotels, and meals will be billed to me; your commission will be 15,000 US dollars, untaxed. Does that sound agreeable?" The teenager inquired reasonably. Considering that worked out to 5,000 per day--or, to look at it another way, 15,000 for a one hour meeting--he thought the amount was quite reasonable. It was no where near what a true Kabal employee would make, but it was not a disagreeable amount of pocket change, either. "The money will be paid upon completion of the commission, in whatever form you desire; cash, check, or wire."

His spoon dug delicately into the side of the ice cream ball, cutting easily through the crust. The green color really was quite bright. With the air of a true scientist, he put the first bite into his mouth.

...Hmm.

He blinked across the table at the dessert-less feline. "Would you like to try some of this? It is quite interesting. I like it." No doubt the boy listening at the doorframe would be pleased to hear as much.

Slate spoke of her honesty, but to be honest, he was still under her own test. Time would only tell, if Slate was truly being honest. So far the trip seemed too good to be true, and Sara was very leery of such things. It’s why her and Luke had so much trouble getting along.

The briefing on what was going go on for the three days of the mission, went on, and Sara kept quiet. She’d finished every last one of her shrimp, using nothing but the tips of her chop sticks, that tapped together now and then, just so she could make sure she had them lined up between her fingers right.

“That sounds fine to me, except for one thing.” For Sara it was the rest of the down payment her and Ayesac needed. Their safe house could be paid for with one bulk sum. Then it was a matter of affording repairs, and improvements. If things kept up, then the repairs and improvements should be well within their budget. “I’ll need to be paid in cash, and I ask for one third of the cash, the day before I take off.” Sara said simply. It was a common practice of hers now. Commissioners thought it was funny to skip out on paying her if she did the job, before she had the cash. One third ensured Sara that they were indeed serious about her work, and that they were assured that Sara would have enough cash incentive to finish the job. “The rest can be paid when I return.”

"Would you like to try some of this? It is quite interesting. I like it."

On the other side of the door frame, Johnny grinned and gave his older brother, the cook, a thumbs up.

Sara shook her head. The chop sticks waved lightly between her paw like digits. Forgotten but till there, because she’s started picking at her rice, again. “So we have a who, a where, a how much. When am I to take off? So I can have time to get my personal affairs in order.”

“That sounds fine to me, except for one thing. I’ll need to be paid in cash, and I ask for one third of the cash, the day before I take off. The rest can be paid when I return.”

Slate gave another nod. "Agreed, on both counts; cash will be no issue, and the one-third up front does sound reasonable." Even if she ran off with the $5,000 and the box of gems, it would be no crippling loss. A clear inconvenience, but not a crippling loss. His impression of the queen had so far been quite favorable; the fact that he knew where to find her, and at least one person she held more than a casual interest in, were further reassurances. She was not acting like a woman who intended petty betrayal. Either that, or she was acting very carelessly.

She was apparently not in the mood for ice cream, or did not like sharing with others. He could not say he was disappointed. The fried ice cream was indeed good. He had no objections to finishing it himself.

>> “So we have a who, a where, a how much. When am I to take off? So I can have time to get my personal affairs in order.”

"At your earliest convenience. I would prefer you to take off by the end of the week, but we could arrange a later date, should that be truly necessary. Similarly, we could arrange the flight for this evening, if you were truly so eager." Slate caught up another piece of tan batter and ridiculous green coloring on his spoon. "You may feel free to take a few days to get your affairs in order, of course. You will be meeting the dealer in his own town, so he is being flexible on the exact date."

The reason Sara didn’t take the ice cream. Well, she read somewhere that cats were supposed to be lactose intolerant. While Sara’s healing factor had kept her from ever experiencing a stomach ache, beyond being hungry, she limited her dairy intake just because she wasn’t sure. Now for her to drink milk, it had to be chocolate…. Not that chocolate had anything good for her cat side, but it did calm the feline PMS. Ayesac would never survive if the world ran out of chocolate.

“I have a previous engagement tomorrow evening.” Sara replied. “I can take the flight the day after tomorrow.” Sara finished off her egg rolls and continued in on her rice. “I hope I don’t scare the pants off of your dealer.” Her words were sincere despite the fact she had a small smirk on her lips.

>> “I have a previous engagement tomorrow evening. I can take the flight the day after tomorrow.”

"That will be entirely fine," Slate agreed, his tone somewhat distracted. This ice cream was quite good. It required proper focus to enjoy, and perhaps a return visit to the Dragon Inn. Personally, he had a previous engagement for the following evening as well, though it had been pushed from his mind by more important items days ago: the charity ball. He was to be meeting Calley and Katrina there, if he remembered to do so.
Slate finished the ice cream as the queen finished her egg rolls.

>> “I hope I don’t scare the pants off of your dealer.”

"Heh," Slate could not help but agree. "I believe I will give him some forewarning, in that regard. Do not worry about the usual prejudice--his son is a mutant, as well, if less overt than yourself. It is why he is so receptive to the idea of a meeting, I believe."

Slate's food had been properly conquered, the cat commissioned, and his just desserts eaten with a spoon. That meant, quite unfortunately, that this dinner meeting was at an end. Unfortunate? Yes, he did believe that was what this feeling was. Curious. He could not say why.

"I fear I have some business to attend to, after this." Slate began, slipping the gem box back into his pocket as he stood, shrugging into his coat. He offered his hand across the table. "It has been a pleasure meeting with you, Miss Sara. I hope this commission is to your satisfaction, so that we may have work for you again, in the future. I will have the details of your flight arrangements sent to you--would this location be your preferred place of correspondence, or would elsewhere suit you better?" It occurred to him that the feline might benefit from having a P.O. Box she could check, without needing to tie herself to an address; it was a stray thought, though, to be picked up at a later date. If she found this commission satisfying, and if he was satisfied with her completion of it.

On his way towards the door to the front room, he turned back for a moment. "I have heard," Slate said simply, "that cats were once worshipped, in Egypt. Please have an enjoyable trip, Miss Sara."

It was odd sharing a joke about her looks, but at the same time, comforting to know her looks shouldn’t be that big of deal. She was helping a mutant family here and possibly making another connection of her own. Even if this was over seas.

At least their meeting was coming to a close and when Slate extended his hand, Sara took Slate’s hand when he offered it, lightly in her own. “May this be the beginning of a good partnership. Good luck with the rest of today’s business.”

"I have heard, that cats were once worshipped, in Egypt. Please have an enjoyable trip, Miss Sara.”

Sara’s head tilted as she watched Slate towards the front. “Indeed.”

Johnny scooted into the back room from around the corner. He collected the bill then sorted through the tip and waited till Slate was well out of ear shot, out the door before he spoke. “He can afford to his own air travel for you, he has a mutant who makes gems, and his tips aren’t full of pocket change, but he’s only giving you 15,000. Miss. Sara,” Johnny pocked the feline. “He got you cheep.”

(Mission takes place in Egypt)