The nameless opossum snuggles David and frets, very quietly.

Then: here is Veron, appearing out of nowhere and pretending like that did not at all happen.

"Right, places that might get things dropped on them have been warned, and my soul walking out and about means I can go handle it in the Plane of Shadow while having a way to get back," he says, without any preamble. He is not looking at David. Or at his soul. Harry, though, Harry is safe to look at. Harry has all of his clothes on.

He totally does! He's nice like that.

"Excellent! Let's get going, then, the club isn't too far from here but we might as well get there as soon as possible."

"Yeah," he agrees. Then, at last, he looks to the souls. "Uh, are you two coming, or..." He waves awkwardly at them. "... Sticking around for important soul business that I probably don't want the particulars of?"

  His soul makes a little possum shrug. "If you get into trouble I'll notice and can go help. I'll be more helpful as an inside soul than out and about. So, no rush to go for me, up to David."

"... Also, you're a possum now?"

  "I'm very talented!"

"... Okay."

"Oh, I'm coming along," David says, getting up and stretching. "Harry has a severe problem with emotional regulation when it comes to Johnny Marcone and his associates, especially the one we're visiting. I don't want him committing any unnecessary property damage."

"Thanks, Mom," Harry grouses. 

"No one wants us to go there," David says sardonically. "Get your coat."

"I can also avoid being all sneaky if you'd think I'd help," says Veron. "I am unlikely to cause unnecessary property damage. Necessary property damage is more of a hit or miss, but I'm hard to piss off. Last time it took an Archdevil."

  From David's shoulder, his soul adds, "We did cause a lot of property damage, though."

"I thought we didn't do too bad, that time."

  "No, we partially destabilized the entire level of Cania and broke its hopelessness metaphysical thing, possibly forever. It is now possible that the entire thing will slide right off the rest of Hell and split off into being something less evil. At some point. If the good guys work at it."

"Oh," says Veron, not really knowing what else to say to that. He'd say 'oops,' except he doesn't really regret it, and it wasn't really an accident.

  His soul gives a little happy purr and snuggles David.

"Congratulations," David comments, heading for the door. "He mostly just ends up burning down buildings."

  "Thanks!" she chirps, brightly. "It's okay, sometimes things really do need to get burned down. When appropriate."

"So uh, sneak or no sneak...?" asks Veron, a little disturbed by his soul being so cavalier about burning things.

"I'd say sneak, if you don't mind. If it goes bad, it's nice to have a hidden ally in reserve."

"Sure," he shrugs. To the car!

To the car.

David drives fast, even in the heavy snow. They make it to the place in record time.

There's no big sign over the door; that'd be tacky. Indeed, it's difficult to tell what the place even is, from its exterior. David swipes a card and walks in, Harry following behind. The room is full of exercise equipment and a small number of extremely wealthy-looking men and women using said equipment, each accompanied by a personal trainer. The personal trainers range from beautiful twenty-year-old girls in excessively tight tank tops to beautiful twenty-year-old boys in excessively tight exercise shorts.

(Harry looks around in disgust. Well, mostly disgust.)

Veron does not walk in through the front door. He eyes the building thoughtfully, then walks around to the side of it and disappears.

His soul stays nestled around David's shoulders, hidden under his jacket and perfectly still and quiet, golden eyes closed.

To all outside appearances, it's just Harry and David.

A female trainer bounces over to them. "Hi! I'm Jennifer! How can I help you gentlemen today?"

"You can tell us where to find Demeter," Harry growls.

"Miss Demeter is actually out right now," the girl apologizes. "But I can take down a name and number, and you can leave a message for when she gets back?"

"Listen," Harry begins angrily.

"What my brother means to say," David interjects smoothly, "is of course we'll leave a message. The message is from the brothers Dresden, and it is that she's most likely going to be dead this time tomorrow, and if she would prefer to survive, she should stop pretending to be on vacation and let us up. Please."

The personal trainer has some difficulty processing this. "Let me consult my manager," she eventually chirps.

"By all means."

She pulls out a PDA and texts someone. She receives an immediate response, reads it, and pastes a smile on her face. 

"Please follow me, sirs," she says brightly, and leads them to the elevator. 

Ms. Demeter turns out to be a severe-looking woman in her early forties. 

"Dresden," she says thinly. "And Dresden."

"Sorry for the veiled death threat," Harry says.

She shrugs minutely. "I'll consider it on-the-job training for my receptionist. What can I do for you?" Before either Dresden can respond, she holds up her hand. "Allow me to rephrase. What can I do to most quickly get rid of you?"

"We're looking for Marcone."

She sighs. "A very popular activity lately. Why exactly would I help you find him? Your opinion of my employer is well-known."

"Believe it or not, I want to help him."

"You're right. I don't believe you."

Meanwhile, in the lobby...

A fat man in a decently tailored suit comes through the door, flanked by four men who could be charitably referred to as "goons".

"Hello, sirs!" chirps Jennifer, hurrying over. "How can I help you?"

"We're here for Demeter," the fat man sneers. "You can get out of our way."

Jennifer's brittle smile returns. "Miss Demeter is actually-"

The lead goon elbows her out of the way as the crew makes its way to the elevator. 

There's no need for both Veron and his soul to follow Harry and David. It doesn't make much sense to him to not be able to hear what's going on near his soul, and if he consults his True Name bullshit for its opinion, it agrees with him. Cheating: it sure is convenient. He instead spends his time investigating the place. He spots the goons on their way to the elevator.

Well, that sure is ominous, isn't it.

He invisibly slides into the elevator after them, shifting incorporeal when necessary to avoid detection in the cramped space. He coats several darts with a sleeping poison as he waits for his moment. These guys do not look very competent.

Unfortunately for them, Veron is. Four thugs and a fat man in a suit, in an enclosed space with a rogue that fought his way out of Hell? Yeah, there was only one way this was going to go.

When the elevator reaches the appropriate floor, the doors open to reveal an empty compartment.

In Demeter's office, there is a man sitting in a chair that had been empty a minute before. Shadows swirl at his feet. He is calm and assured and certain of being the most dangerous man in the room.

"Perhaps you'll believe me," he says pleasantly. He snaps his fingers, and an inky shadow pools from the floor to deposit four unconscious goons and one bound and disarmed man in a suit.

"My apology, for entering uninvited." He motions casually to the bound man and his unconscious friends. "I presume you don't mind."

Demeter twitches with surprise, then straightens herself back out.

"I don't mind, no," she says drily. She takes a look at the assembled men. "Ah. Torelli." She sighs. "It probably sounds petty, but I'd rather hoped the first lieutenant who tried to strongarm me would at least be a competent one. From the binds, I assume he's still alive?"

"I didn't see any reason to get blood on your nice carpet, and thought you might have some questions for him. It only seemed polite to oblige." He smiles pleasantly. "Call me an insurance policy. They," he points a thumb to the Dresdens, "are with me. I apologize for their manners, I'm on a bit of a time crunch, you see. I need to find Marcone as quickly as possible."

Ms. Demeter appears to do some calculations inside her head.

Then she sighs again. "I don't have the Goddamn resources for this. You want to make my job easier? Do it. Just promise me, Dresden- Harry. Promise me you actually want to help John."

"I'm not going to lie to you," Harry says. "But I swear that I will try to help him. I swear it on my power and my name."

She nods once, scribbles an address on a sheet of paper, and slides it to Harry. "Now please leave. Shadow-man, thank you for taking care of Torelli. I have a long talk with him planned."

The shadow-man nods politely, "I'll leave you to it."

Then he is swallowed by a dark shadow and disappears.

  David's snuggle companion giggles silently.

"Lovely speaking with you, Helen," David says. Ms. Demeter's face sours, even as Harry drags his brother from the room and, more generally, the establishment.

They enter the car. Once they're buckled, Harry clears his throat awkwardly. "Veron?"