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Initial thoughts on Mihail Ionescu. You don't trust him. You don't trust anyone with a goatee beard, especially when it's paired with such a smug smile. You can only trust that he's as competent as Major Ionescu says, but you shudder to imagine what kind of speciality he might bring to the table. Stealing things, breaking things, and getting in trouble, you assume.
“Well friend, I assume you want to get this done as quickly as possible,” Mihail says as you're leaving the hovel, offering you his hand. Being the better man, you take it and shake. “Nice grip. I can really feel the seething anger,” he jeers, “Yes, you want to get this over with. Well, you're in luck – so do I. The sooner we can get our property back, the better.”
“Young Master Ionescu,” Elle says, her tone carefully neutral, “It may help if you tell us what we're looking for.”
“No titles please, Mihail is fine,” the dark-haired man insists, “And, ah... I don't think I should say. These are Galsean secrets, you understand?”
“You want us to get something for you,” Elle replies with a grimace, “But you won't tell us what it is?”
“Merely a joke, Miss, merely a joke!” he laughs, “It is a small icon, I say about two hands high, and made of gold. Very valuable, yes? Like a human figure, but with many arms. That's all I can say. You will know it when you see it, I'm sure.”
Throughout the whole conversation, Ariel studies the Galsean man in silence. She argued for playing along with the Major before, but now you wonder if she might be having some second thoughts.
If there is one advantage to having Mihail with you, it's that he can lead you through the settlement maze without a second thought. You suspect that he'd be able to navigate the winding streets with his eyes closed and his ears plugged. It seems like no more than a few minutes before you arrive back at the checkpoint gates. This, you're sure, is where you part.
Undeterred, Mihail swaggers over to the guard and leans as close as the barred gate allows. Whispering something in the guard's ear, he steps back as the gate swings open. The guard turns away, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he awkwardly stares into the distance. Grinning from ear to ear, Mihail leaves the settlement with just one pause – to dig out a woollen hat from his coat pocket and pull it down over his black hair.
“We must be discrete, right friends?” he remarks, making a tiny adjustment to his hat, “We wouldn't want the good people to get frightened, knowing there was a dirty Galsean walking in their midst.”
“We're the only ones who know,” Ariel muses, “Does that mean we're the only ones who should be frightened?”
Mihail just laughs.
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