"...You're not Albert, are you? You could have said as fucking much. I am trying to help your company, by delivering a letter to Mr Albert Henson, of the prototyping division, from Danny No-Last-Name in Bristol, and you are making this absurdly difficult."

"I am Mr. Albert fucking Henson, young lady, and I don't appreciate that tone. Whoever gave you that packet is either some sort of charlatan or some sort of idiot. I don't have any informants called Danny, and there are already established channels for this sort of thing. How am I to know that whatever information is in there isn't worse than useless - misleading, a waste of time? How much did he pay you to do this? I don't doubt at all that those bastards at Windward would consider a pound to distract and vex me and my team for half an hour to be well worth the money."

"I am merely the messenger here. Whether the information is good, bad, I have no clue. Important enough to risk getting caught putting it on a military delivery flight, but who knows, maybe confusing you is worth that risk. Maybe you are god's gift to boating. Who knows! Not me. ...and goddamnit, Danny was a cheapskate. --And I am going to be telling him that."

"I harbor some doubt you will even be able to find him again from the sound of this story. Good day, bird-witch."

Ooh, she's going to track this Danny down. Do not underestimate the tenacity of a pissed off Lunar, random dockworker. Do not underestimate it!

And track Albert Henderson down, if this is some double layered bamboozlement so he can get out of paying for his intel. Or if he informs anyone of this transaction.

But screw this for a game of soldiers, she's turning back into a bird and leaving.

Nobody stops her from doing that.

Where to next?

...she's used a lot of Essense, so she should probably rest up. Maybe a pub. Get a drink, some food and a place to sleep, find someone to sleep with, and maybe actually sleep.

Well, there are plenty of pubs and plenty of food and plenty of guys and plenty of beds.

The next morning is announced by the clattering of construction starting back up again.

Well, time to head back to the post office, and see if there are any more freelance jobs, or if a position has opened up for her.

(And hey, if she ends up sent back to Cardiff, revenge will be quick!)

The bureaucracy moves slowly, but it moves. If she wants to officially join the UDF as a witch associate (courier) she is invited to take the General Skills Test at the London Assembly Yards.

Freelance work running up north on a longer and better-paying flight than Cardiff was is available, though.

So the first thing would require knowing where London is, so that's going to have to go on the backburner. She'll get around to it. Eventually.

More freelance work would be good though! She can probably do a longer flight. And another city to explore -- and potentially cause chaos in -- would be fun. ...She of course doesn't mention the chaos part.

Well, she could always ask for directions to London.

Worcester is a fairly long flight. She gets a loaded up heavy 'wing and a partner to fly with again. This one barely acknowledges her.

She could, but freelance flying is working out pretty great so far. And she gets transportation to these cities while doing it.

She can probably make Worcester. The last flight didn't dip into her Essence reserves that much. She says hello to the quiet person, to be polite.

"Hi. Let's just get this over with, yeah? Course is fifteen, match my speed."

"No worries!"

Eh, they can't all be social.

Her grumpy fellow witch is happy to lead the way over pastoral farms and small towns, all the way up to a city on a river which seems to be a fair bit smaller than Bristol was, and also more compact, not running along the river and shore. Still probably counts as a city and not a large town, but it's a lot closer to the line.

They pass a pair of middle-aged witches flying actual brooms, who wave politely as they whoosh past.

She waves back.

Even small cities will probably have something to do. She'll find something.

Well, there's always bars. There are some around here, as in any city. The biggest building in town is the Worcester Small Arms & Ammunition Factory & Store. There's also a fancy botanical garden sort of thing, which seems to have some kind of party going on.

How fancily dressed are the people in the gardens? Does it look like she could sneak in and not look completely out of place?

Not courtroom gown fancy, but pretty fancy. About like that boat guy who's probably rich-ish was dressed. She could probably do with a change of clothes.

Should she be saving Essence, and not using it for no good reason? Yes. Is she going to do that?

No.

She uses Changing Plumage Mastery, and changes into a fancy green dress in an approximation of the local style. --with a fancy, dance like twirl to make it a stunt, instead of flashing people.

She heads towards whatever looks most entrance like.

The obvious display of magic attracts attention, but not particularly lasting attention.

The big trellis archway is the most entrance-like entrance. There's a short line - they seem to be selling tickets.

She has some money on her, and courier-ing seems relatively steady so far.

She'll wait in line and find out the price from the ticket-seller. If it's too much she can just leave and go be overdressed in a pub or something.

The sign says it's a celebration of the newly completed Worcester-Birmingham railway! Fine food and wine, specially decorated garden, live music by half an orchestra, exotic fruit, and a display of fireworks (generously provided by Worcester Small Arms & Ammunition) for later. The whole works. The cost is about three days of staying in an inn and eating and drinking fairly well, or a bit more if she wants a round trip to Birmingham later. She can well afford it, especially if courier work stays steady.

And it'll be a fine opportunity to find out what a railway is! She pays the money and heads in.