Gaggle of Geese

They had taken a cab to the south eastern corner of Central Park. It was quicker, less stressful, and it saved them having to find parking. Now they were seemingly leisurely strolling along the pathways around The Pond. This time of year the masses of tourists were gone, and this time of day the lunch crowd was beginning to thin, and IC could simply enjoy the crisp autumn...pardon...fall air, the sight of the colourful leaves clinging to the trees soon to flutter down. She steered toward an empty bench overlooking the water and sat.
        Valentina couldn't sit, but she forced herself to do it anyway. In a place like this, it was easier if you could run quickly, if you needed to run. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but it kept her alive, most of the time.

Lunch Meeting

"Wolfe seems legit," Valentina said, keeping her eyes from the camera embedded in the wall. "Arrogant and cocky, but more or less legit."
        "Legit in what sense?" IC asked as she leaned back in her chair. "As in he's got the brawns to punch Sleep out of a tight spot? Or as in he's got the special skill set needed for this particular predicament Sleep finds himself in?"

Tit for Tat‏

"I told you you'd come back, cherie." Sandrine sat on the couch opposite him as though her body were water. "What can I do for you?" Her eyes were full of suggestion but no promises.
        Wolfe took his bijou coat off and sat opposite from the woman. "I'm on the clock, Krásná. No fun, tonight."

Party Tricks‏

Mr. Wolfe doesn't say much. He usually doesn't have much to say. Actions speak louder, and his is a lifetime devoted to action. It's been a long time since he's seen home. And even longer since he's run with his own kind. But sitting here at a table in a coffee shop downtown, is a creature that isn't kin but kind. She smells like something he should know, but Mr. Wolfe just can't pin her down. Perhaps the strange woman was a part of the Old Country, another story taken away to exist in a strange land? Or perhaps she's something new, recently born to smell ancient?
        Whatever she was... she smelled good.

Dead Hooker

"Good evening, Mr Sleep," IC greeted her client as she sailed into the office and placed her coat over the backrest of a chair and her purse on the table. "What might be the emergency?" She did not check if Ms Ash had followed her or not, she simply expected the woman to be where she would need her, anywhere, anytime.
        John Sleep fiddled with a mahogany stick and glanced around nervously. The shadows under his eyes were deep, as were the creases in his suit. He looked more like a shabby shoe salesman than a man of means, but his current status as the latter was a relatively new acquisition.

Acquisition

The bar was quiet for a Friday night in New York City. Maybe if it hadn't been down in some out of the way, hole in the wall, it would have attracted customers. Since it was, the only people who went there were people who liked peace and anonymity and were willing to pay for it.
       Valentina Ash liked it because there was less likelihood of being stabbed, shot at or otherwise murdered. It was too inconvenient to be bothered with stuff like that. She sipped her drink and looked toward the doorway, waiting for her meeting to happen.