"Did Boreas tip you off, pay you, or otherwise involve you in his plan? Do you know, or suspect, why the Mindflayers spared you?"

"I had - Okay okay I had some idea that something was gonna happen, but I wouldn't have sicced mindflayers on them! If he tipped me off he did it so sneaky-like even I didn't notice. I think I just got lucky, I shot one and one of the jars of honey broke, they kind of - swarmed it - then I ran for it and hid in a sewer pipe for a day."

"Hell. Mindflayers are bad news. Are you sure they were mindflayers?"

"I mean, splitting headache when one looked at you, the fucking weird thought that it'd be so nice and comfy to stop resisting, purple heads with tentacle mouths? Yes. It was mindflayers."

"How many?"

"Uh... Six? Maybe ten? Not much more than that. I wasn't really in a state to stop and count."

"This was May 6, right? Because the drop was for the seventh."

"Right."

"So thirty-seven days ago now, six to ten mindflayers, at least, in the bowels of New Winchester... Which may not end up being our problem, precisely, but they are rather a problem for everyone at some point."

"Are we reassured that he's telling the truth and don't need the circle? I have a last question, but I'm fine to drop it assuming the answer matches my expectations."

"Is is straining? Couple more sanity checks and I can be done."

"Expends 'mana', which exists here but was a lot more abundant back home. It will take me about an hour to recover ten second's worth, unless and until I work out a better method."

A slight raising of one eyebrow and a sharp nod. She steps into the circle. "Blues, work with us here and you'll be fine. Were you telling the truth the whole time?"

"Yes! I- Yes."

"Are you going to keep being honest on the topic of mindflayers? No lies of omission, no fancy wordplay, just- Honesty."

"Yes."

Rusty Rose says, "Good. Okay, you can drop it."

"Are there any questions you're hoping you aren't asked, and what are they?"

He freezes, frowns, then deflates slightly and grinds out, "Yes. 'Is there something you did someone'd want to kill you for.' I've been skimming the red honey."

Rusty Rose's eyes narrow, then she shakes her head and makes a cutting motion in the Dire Lady's direction.

"Not a good move. Not at all. Cost of doing business, to an extent but we'll be going over the details," this word comes out sharp and threatening, "later, out of Ms. Dire's relatively limited attention."

"Yes, Rusty Rose."

Teysa nods, and the circle's light cuts out.

"Well, it sounds like you have discussions it would make no sense to have in my hearing. I can think of ways an outsider might be handy for passing messages about the mind flayers, if you don't like the channels you have already. But that can, presumably, wait."

"Yes, we've got a lot of work to do now. The Gentlemen can handle a bunch of overgrown brainjackers if we have warning, there's ways and ways, and we don't want the Establishment rooting around New Winchester's basement, so I'd consider it a favor if you keep this to yourself, hm? Not that you'd get taken seriously easily at any rate."

"Naturally. Well, I'm sure you can find me. And we can talk about other services I can provide another time. Shall I leave with the Officer?"

"Not quite yet. You've in all likelihood saved my Lady a lot of headaches, so. What'cha need? Sovs? Bed?" An eyebrow-raised glance to the thrulls. "Warm meat?"

"Well, I certainly saved you some cash by asking my own questions, and I won't refuse a cut. Five percent of what he skimmed in honey would seem fair. But my most urgent needs are recommendations for trustworthy lodgings, and a tailor who can match the cut of my robes in less gaudy materials. It hides my bad leg, and I don't fancy having to fight off every idiot who decides that I must be an easy mark."

"There's a lovely little cheesemonger who owes the Gentlemen a favor. I'll call it in for you. Tailors, well, we certainly have brisk business with a family that does good work, but you'll have to pay somehow - materials are not free. Let's head back up for now, then?"

The Ambiguous Officer, waiting at attention, silently looks at her with a slightly expectant expression as they approach.

"This outfit was, if you can believe it, even gaudier when I landed. I'll have no trouble paying for materials. Point me and the Officer in the right direction, then?"

They receive an escort to a conspicuously respectable (for the area) single-story wooden building. Fresh-painted walls and polished brass trim and clean glass windows. The sign just says Felters. The interior's mannikins and displays speak of understated luxury, meticulously kept. It almost seems holy, the way passers-by regard it.

A salesman in an understated suit sees their escort flash a hand sign, and then coolly asks Teysa, "What are you looking for today, madam? Felters clothier is, I assure you, utterly professional."

"I am a new arrival from very far away, and I need new clothes that make me look neither rich nor weak. These robes are cut to distract the eye away from my bad foot, so I don't look weak, but even after I removed most of the gold, ivory, and ebony accents, they're still too gaudy. I'll be a target if I keep them, and I can repel attacks but I'd rather not have to prove it too frequently."

Felters is quick, diligent, and professional. They take a look at the materials on offer, show off a few garments to get an idea of her taste, and then rapidly assemble an appropriate wardrobe, from nightwear to a formal coat. One to wear now, the remainder for pickup tomorrow after adjusting for her measurements. The Ambiguous Officer seems to be getting pretty bored and antsy at this point.

"Sorry, dear Officer, I'd forgotten how long this takes when the tailor doesn't already have your measurements. Shall we do shooting lessons now?"

"Well, I did already show you the basics, but more practice never hurts. Getting on to dinnertime, though."

"Ah, so it is. I assume you were expecting to go somewhere with me, since you didn't beg off while I was here?"

"Guard duty is sacred. But I suppose we're even now, then?"

"Close enough to call it good, at least. Thank you. I suppose I should go find that cheese store for my dinner, and my rooms over it."

The cheese store exists! An enforcer will introduce her and have a quiet conversation.

The Anxious Cheesemonger who minds it mutters about his trade constantly between bouts of how, uh, how very glad he is to pat the Gentlemen's back and put the past behind him. She's welcome to stay a while. Modify the rooms or lock them. Whatever she wants. He's not using any of it. Here's a chaucherie board.

"Thank you kindly. I suspect I will be a very unusual lodger, as you might have guessed from my escorts" - she gestures at her pair of thrulls - "But I will do my best not to be a troublesome one. Let me know if there's any favours you think I might do for you."