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(2/2)
Carrollo and the other guard are chatting, so you wait until you can speak to your boss yourself, sitting down as well.
Is Galahad waiting to be released for the day as well? He shrugs. <span class="mu-b">"No, not really. I'm always on call."</span> The cat mews in response to his petting, turning over and showing its belly. Ultimately, the small animal falls asleep, but Galahad doesn't mind. He's just above average for a man, assuming you're judging his height correctly when he's seated and in armor. He seems to live in it, so you wouldn't be surprised if he was fused to it like an exoskeleton. Despite this, it's pristine, reminding you how high-end Summoning Management Group actually is.
What does he do around here? Problem solving? <span class="mu-b">"Euphemistically, yes. I am member number two of our first Patrol. We subdue or eliminate demons that cannot be negotiated with. The other member is, of course, Pallas."</span> He gestures to his ally, who is finishing up the debrief and nods to Carrollo. When that happens, he stands up to follow her. <span class="mu-b">"Excuse me,"</span> he stands to leave and then nods to you himself. <span class="mu-b">"Good luck."</span>
As soon as he stands up, Carrollo sits down, letting her neck relax and her posture sag as she sank into the cushion. A moment and a deep breath later, she looks at you two intensely. "Good news and bad news. Bad news is that you're going to have to help pick up Price's slack. The good news is that I'm too tired to grill you." She throws a token across the way to you. "That's one of our default rooms for guests, people who can't find anything, or who are between residences. It's yours until you get an apartment or whatever. We have complimentary hygiene products in the closet at the head of the hall, just don't abuse it." She stands up, still looking depressed, running her fingers through her hair. "You've got the rest of the day off, and tomorrow to settle in properly and meet everyone else. I'm going to Sarpino's," she says, and leaves, picking up her purse.
<span class="mu-r">"Italian joint,"</span> Beatrice informs you, putting on the glasses she wore in her digital presentation. <span class="mu-r">"So I've got a couple of suggestions. We have <span class="mu-s">Long Haul</span>, a top-end barbecue joint, an Americana safe spot that goes by <span class="mu-s">Grace's on Eighth</span>, Hispanic cuisine at <span class="mu-s">Los Sabores</span>, and <span class="mu-s">Restored Tradition</span> for Cantonese."</span>
What about Sarpino's? Beatrice's expression of confusion wards against it. <span class="mu-r">"Maybe not the best idea to visit your boss while she's drowning her sorrows..."</span>
>>A couple of suggestions for a meal.
>Long Haul seems like one of the local options.
>Los Sabores is in a different tradition but still local.
>You're looking for comfort food- Americana.
>You're *really* looking for comfort food: Cantonese it is.
>These all sound way too... safe. You're looking for somewhere the locals ACTUALLY go.
>You insist on going to Sarpino's.
>[Write-In.]
