With the plethora of transportation options available on London, it didn't take long for Vincent and Tommy to end up back in SoHo. They were dropped off a few blocks away from where they wanted to end up, so they could choose how best to make their approach to the Blue Pyramid. As they approached the area from a distance on foot, they found there were several cafes and eateries on the street that would serve as suitable vantage points for observing the establishment.

Moretti had fallen silent during the ride into Soho. He'd become comfortable enough around Cotton that he didn't always feel the need to fill the quiet with conversation. As the car navigated the London streets, he pretended to be briefly enthralled with the sights of the city in an effort to conceal the troubling thoughts that tumbled through his mind.

The mirror. Silently, he prayed he never had to lay eyes on the accursed thing again. He hated it for the horror it had inflicted upon him.

Within its images, he had found hope.

Which was a damnable lie. It had to be. Since seeing the pictures that had swirled within the glass, he'd struggled to regain his sense of identity. Of who he truly was. Who he wasn't was someone who would grow old, who would become acquainted with the grace and wisdom of advancing years. Who would be surrounded by the warmth of people who cared for him. Who he was was a career criminal. A disposable asset whose only value rested in his skills, in what he could accomplish, whether working for Joe Masseria or traveling across the globe with the Elias family. With Joe, his only sense of accomplishment came from knowing that his mother and sister would be kept safe and cared for. Here, he had the satisfaction of pursuing justice for Jackson, one of the few people in his life who had seen him as something more than a thug.

He sighed audibly. He couldn't waste his thinking on illusions. He had to focus on who he knew himself to be. There was work to be done, work he felt certain he was pursuing on borrowed time.

When they reached Soho proper, Moretti pointed out a small cafe with a handful or tables arranged in front, any of which would provide a good view of the Blue Pyramid's facade. "How about here?" he asked Cotton. Managing a smile, he added, "I'm betting that you'll be able to pick out Zubaida if you see her again."

Tommy chuckled at Vincent's jibe.
"I'm sure I'm not the only one. Wouldn't be surprised if half the men sat out here were jilted lovers pining for another glimpse of the gal.".

Waving down a waiter the pair slid into a pair of seats overlooking the street toward the Blue Pyramid. "Mind if we take this table? We'll take a couple of coffee's when you are ready.".

Adjusting his chair to give a better view Tommy thought back to Milly.
"You know, I don't quite know where my feelings are at right now. With what we've faced, well, it just makes everything seem turbulent. You know what I mean?".
He grinned.
"Zubaida is real fine looking gal. Who wouldn't want to fall in to bed with her?
But our Irish freind; shes sharp. She's got this spark in her eye that I kinda like and," he shrugged "I guess seeing her get hit last night made me want to protect her. Weird aint it? So which way my feelings are leadin'? Who knows!".

Scanning the facade of the Blue Pyramid the reporter watched windows above. Were the curtains closed or open to let in light? He couldn't help but study every face that veered near their mark;futile a task as that was in a place like this.

Leaning back to soak in the sounds of busy London he glanced at his freind.
"How about you Vinny? You got a fling back in New York? Good lookin' tough guy like you must have plenty of admirers.".

Moretti took a sip of coffee when it arrived, hoping that the dark liquid would somehow revive him further.

He chuckled softly. "Well, if you're asking if I have women in my life, I do. My mother and my little sister, Emily. Neither of them is shy about sharing their opinions on how I live my life. A couple of dear friends of mine, Anthony and Mary DeLuca, are almost like another set of parents to me. Family in all but blood. Mary's of the mind that I need to stop traveling, settle down, start a family. Trust me. She tells me every time I see her." He shook his head. "I'm joking about it a little, but the truth is, it's nice. Having people that stick their noses in your business because they care. Even if it does get on your nerves once in a while."

He took a cigarette from his case and lit it with a match, then took another drink of coffee. "Now if you're talking about romance, that's a different story." He frowned as he took a drag on his cigarette. "The truth is, in my...line of work, you meet a lot of women. Many of them are charming, clever, beautiful. But most of them...what they're really drawn to is the life you're involved in and what they think they can gain from it. Money. Power. Thrills, even. It's like they're more drawn to what they believe about you, rather than who you really are, if that makes sense."

He tapped his ashes into the ashtray on the table. "So, if you want distractions, there's plenty. If you want something real...that's in a lot shorter supply."

"But here's the thing, Tommy. I've been on my own since I was sixteen years old. I've lived in the same flat in Harlem for seven years. When I'm in New York I've got certain things I like to do, places I like to go. I keep my place the way I want it kept." He grinned and laughed. "I'm like an old man, paisan! Stuck in my ways. And I'm telling you, no woman in her right mind would be able to put up with me. I'd drive her to drink."

"Sure, I get lonely once in a while, but for the most part, I'm settled with being a bachelor." He smirked. "Just don't tell my mother."

As he spoke, Moretti kept watch on the Blue Pyramid, looking for a woman who resembled Zubaida, or anything unusual that drew his attention.

11:43, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 90 using 1d100 with rolls of 90.  Spot Hidden.

And doesn't notice a thing. ;)

The smoke of Vincent's cigarette curled lazily from his stub as Tommy listened to his friends story.
"Yeah-it's nice being part of something. I used to think it was like that in the newsroom back at The Times. People stuck their noses in because they cared. But I'm not sure I was right, especially for the older guys.
Once someone makes editor they reckon they have it made. They ain't asking after your health for your own good, it's because they wanna know where the next story is coming from.".

He sighed. There were some good guys back in New York. Mostly the younger crowd he'd knocked around with since graduating. He wondered if Jonsey had managed to finish his under-cover expose' on policing, or if Lettie was still championing her equal rights stuff.
Across the road some kid bumped in to a business man outside the Pyramid. For a moment it looked like something would kick off, until the youngster scurried away under threat of a clipped ear. False alarm.

"I guess that's one of the things that drew me to this case. Wanting to make my own story, my own name. But being with the doc and you guys, it's more than that. It's nice to be part of a family.". He grinned. "What the hell does Paisan mean anyway?".

With a glance at his watch he added more seriously; "And any plans if Zubi dosnt show? She might not even be working.".

Glancing around the reporter checked to see if there were any abandoned newspapers knocking around too.

18:14, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 53 using 1d100 with rolls of 53.  Vs spot hidden 60.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:15, Tue 04 Oct 2016.

Moretti grinned at Cotton's question. "Paisan is a term used among Sicilians. Well, all Italians really. It basically means 'brother'. It's a term used for a trusted friend. A compatriot."

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and picked up his coffee cup, casting another glance at the Blue Pyramid. "If we don't see her go in, we pay the Blue Pyramid a lunch visit. I say we play the love sick customer card, with you playing the infatuated customer. We approach it like you're about to leave the country and are desperate to see this dancer one more time before you go. Take her to dinner, find out if there's anything real there. We need to start a conversation with a food server or bus boy, ply them with a sad story and some cash. We might get lucky and get some information on how to find her."

He took a sip of his coffeee. "If we strike out, I think we should take a walk around Soho. See if we run across any shops that deal in occult books, items associated with Ancient Egypt. Not a tourist spot. A place that appears like it might be frequented by locals. Have a look around. Ask a few careful questions. See if we run across anything that points to the Brotherhood."

Luck rolls from both of you please.

15:07, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 35 using 1d100 with rolls of 35.  Luck - Luck 75%

01:16, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 75 using 1d100 with rolls of 75.  Luck vs a number I've not checked yet

Turns out that number was 60.

This message was last edited by the GM at 03:00, Thu 06 Oct 2016.

From down the street, they could make out a woman resembling Zubaida. As she came closer to their position, and therefore the Blue Pyramid, they were increasingly certain it was her.