The room is dark, crooked and narrow, an old hall caught in the vise of tall and aged stone. At the end, candles provide dim crescents of light for a stage. A bat stands at the center of attention, an inky tangle of hair pouring down to obscure her glittering brown eyes as she demurely lowers her chin. Though, after her performance one could hardly imagine her as innocent. She smiles as the last few notes flow from her lips to the crowd below, her wings held out behind her in what could very well be a bow.

A shiga sits at one of the booths, shunning the open tables closer to the dance floor. A deep hood covers his features, but one scaley paw taps a blunt index claw on the tabletop in time to the last few beats of music. As the last notes echo away, he brings his paws together in three soft claps.

Brishen smiles faintly, and for a moment it appears she is content to drink in the shadowed applause of the crowd. Then, as she catches sight of someone familiar, she smiles even more and steps out of the candlelight. It is quite some time before she seats herself next to the shiga, her long and oddly scandalous dress replaced for sturdier, darker attire. She even has a beret.

Several empty glasses sit on the table in front of the reptile, whose downcast eyes are hidden under his cowl. Without looking up, he hisses, "A beautiful performance, madame."

Brishen furls her wings neatly, then leans over to murmur to the shiga. "Thank you." She grins impishly. "I've been here before. The owner pays well, though I'd rather not know how he pays well."

"Well, I can see why you chose this meeting spot, then," replies the Wooden Shekel. He sits up to lean forward, resting his arms on the table. "Now, down to business. I have some interesting news."

Brishen raises a brow. "Oh?"

"Have you ever heard of House Trione?" asks the lizard.

Brishen nods, tucking a lock of hair under her beret. It has odd hints of auburn and her fur does seem a little darker, though it could very well be the light. "I have."

The Wooden Shekel nods. "Good, that'll simplify things. I'm sure you already know that House Trione wasn't fond of the Sabaoth. You may not have known that, in the day, one Senya Trione, daughter of Jethro, the clan head, was planning on going in (flimsy) disguise to catch the Sabaoth's eye. She was to be added to the Sabaoth's harem, and from there, she could act as a spy."

"Undercover work, as it were," hisses the lizard, somewhat bemusedly.

Brishen leans forward slightly. "I have heard of this as well. I do not believe it went well for her."

The reptile nods. "Indeed it didn't. She was discovered, there was this nasty business with horrib larvae, and suffice it to say, she is no longer among us." He wrinkles his snout. "Babelite executions… eeugh… "

Brishen smirks faintly. "It's not the most pleasant thing to be well-known for, but it does have its benefits."

"I can, unfortunately, imagine." The lizard claps his paws together, and rests his chin on his knuckles. "Now, here's the part you might be interested in. Your cousin knew Senya as a child. Brief acquaintance, I think, mostly passing clan dealings. As it would turn out, however, while Bryanna was in service to the Sabaoth, she recognized Senya. It's no coincidence that Senya died shortly thereafter."

The lizard sniffs distastefully. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the popular 'Ear for an ear, wing for a wing' philosophy of your own people. For the loss of a daughter, House Trione was probably not pleased, and if this information were to reach them, it's more than likely something… bad would happen to your cousin."

Brishen stretches, smiling incongruously. Perhaps, to an observer, a young singer down on her luck enough to be here has found an agent. Her voice does not match her countenance, however. "Interesting. Very." She fixes her eyes on the shiga, or, rather the dark place under the shiga's hood. "I suspect that knowledge may find its way to the right ears, someday."

The shiga holds up a single index finger. "Before that happens, there are implications to consider. You have to decide what you want to accomplish. While there's the chance, and I don't condone this, that your cousin's wings are 'permenantly clipped', so to speak, there's a chance that House Trione would settle for an underling if Bryanna is considered too powerful to risk."

Brishen smiles thinly. She almost, but not quite waves a finger. "Ah – I didn't say I would use it, only that it may in time become useful. I know the consequences."

"Mm, very well then. I just thought you'd best be advised." The reptile searches the glasses on the table for any more drink he might have missed. "While we're at it, be advised also that while Bryanna could be considered a one-time supporter of the Sabaoth, I don't think Prince Boghaz would do much of anything if he were to get this information."

Brishen furrows her brow slightly. "I imagine there are many in the Palace who once supported the Sabaoth, but have found reasons to support the new regime."

"Exactly," replies the Wooden Shekel. "So be careful with who this gets out to. Whatever you do with it, you might want to do fast, because the informant I spoke with seemed eager to talk. It seems he was snubbed for a position, and didn't like your cousin in the first place. He demanded a gold for this information, and seems to expect that his divulging it will result in major trouble for Bryanna. If it doesn't happen, he might seek to tell others, despite my warnings that he doesn't."

Brishen twirls an errant lock of hair about a finger. "I see." The corners of her mouth draw down into the slightest of frowns. "I know who I shall hand this knowledge. How, will require some work. I do not want it known where it came from, if I decide to use it."

The Wooden Shekel leans back again, crossing his arms. "Good. The less involvement I have, the better."

"Who did you have in mind to approach?" he asks, after a few seconds pause.

Somewhere, deep down in Bree's thoughts, a clear voice whispers. If you do this you may as well have killed her yourself. Can you l – For now, Brishen decides not to listen. Instead, she smiles. "You don't want to know that."

The reptile shrugs. "You're right, but I'm asking anyway."

Brishen shakes her head slightly. "No." She furrows her brow, then shakes her head again. "No. Not now. If I decide to act on what you've told me, then you'll know."

"Very well. It's your perogative," hisses the Wooden Shekel. "If I have any more to report, I'll get in touch."

Brishen blinks a few times, then nods. She takes a deep breath. "All right. You've given me a lot to consider."

Brishen almost forgets to nudge a small packet towards the shiga, under the table. It has a familiar shape to it and two shekels inside. Almost.

The hood nods. "And I hope you consider it very carefully." The Wooden Shekel leans on one elbow to reach under the table with the his wall-ward hand, accepting the packet. The paw that comes up again is empty, and the packet seems to be gone, though there's another crease in his cloak. The other paw drops a tenner on the table for his bar tab. It goes 'tink' as it rolls against one of his glasses.

Brishen stands, stretching, then brushes a lock of hair from her eyes. "I will. It's a very tempting offer." There is the suggestion of tears in her eyes, but she seems not to notice them. Perhaps, from where the shiga stands they are merely a trick of dim and unreliable light.

"Your voice is too lovely to not share with a larger audience, my dear," hisses the cloaked reptile, hefting himself to his feet. He lets his cape gather around his shoulders, so it envelopes him completely. The hood is tilted in such a manner as to suggest he's looking directly at Brishen's face. He's silent for a brief moment. "… If you decide on that contract, you'll… uh, know where to find me."

Brishen's wings rustle faintly as she turns towards a small door, tucked in a dusty corner near the stage. "I will." She takes a few steps from the shiga, pauses for the space of a few hearbeats, then continues on, quickly. She doesn't look back.

The reptile watches Brishen go. He stands there for a little while more, as if contemplating, then wearily departs through the main exit of the club.