The Handover

<Tyra> 4» The appointed time and place. West and Minister, ground level of Paxia. Two in the morning, the late night wanderers just starting to shift into motion as more sensible people haul out. It's rather chilly, the rain having fallen off and on from the cloudy sky. Tyra's leaning against the side of an auto carriage, waiting patiently.
<Tyra> 4» She's garbed in yet another rather different getup than what people may be used to seeing her in. First of all is the long overcoat covering most of her up coupled with the fedora resting on top of her head. Her hair has been bound up entirely, a great deal possibly under the hat. Under the jacket would be street clothes, black slacks and a shirt and such.
*Tyra spares a glance around, lighting up a cigarette with a gesture from a gloved hand. Some things are a bit too useful to dump, it seems. Her facial features seem different, the hour or so of work disguising herself showing. Her black hair has gone auburn when no one was looking apparently, as well.
<Mina‘Haplo> [ A minute passes before Tyraline’s contact shows up. Michael Vickers looks quite different when taken away from the glitz and glam of a ballroom. Instead of his handsome dress uniform, he is instead wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and matching trousers, with a long high-collared coat, buttoned up to the throat. He wears a fedora, worn at such an angle that his blonde curls are barely visible. He carries a briefcase in his left hand. ]
*The_Slayer is the Night. She is essentially invisible, absorbed on a perch high above, perhaps next to some conveniently gothic stone Gargoyles. She is staring down with Tyra in perfect vantage, ready to swoop down the moment something goes wrong. She's a killer of her word.
*Tyra doesn't immediately react to Michael, waiting for a few moments before shifting her stance ever slightly so an eye can peer out past the brim of her hat and bangs to look at Michael. "Evenin', sir."
<Mina‘Haplo> ["Evenin’." He mumbles in reply. "S'dark out, nuh?" He says in a put-upon accent. He doesn't look directly at her, but he slows his walk. ]
*Tyra gives a slight shrug, blowing out a plume of smoke into the cold air. "Whatcha expect this time of night, eh? Got the present?"
<Mina‘Haplo> [ "That I do." He said. "How’s Summers going?" ]
<Tyra> Swimmingly. Pretty warm and all.
<Mina‘Haplo> ["Good, good." Michael sets the briefcase down, taking out a cigarette and lighter of his own. Within a few seconds it’s lit up, and he's smoking gently… Before he mumbles in Elvish, "{Getting this was harder than expected.}" ]
*Tyra rolls her eyes, swapping over as well. "{Oh, now you show you know this. How much harder?}"
<Mina‘Haplo> [ "{Some twit broke into the Vickers building and screwed around with a government lock. I had to use every contact and favour I had to stop the government spooks from basically rushing the place and taking everything then and there. As it stands, I’ve managed to sort it out for the most part.}"]
*Tyra shakes her head. "{If your company wasn't folding, I'd say you'd need to overhaul your security.}"
<Mina‘Haplo> "{It isn’t mine anymore, is it?}" Mutters Michael. "{Anyway, there is some good news out of this. After a chat with some 'friends', I've ensured that providing your lot take precautions, they won't suspect what happened at all. They'll just think you made a superior design in your own time.}" He quietly slid the briefcase to Tyra with his foot. "{Documents. Also, some newfangled hard data cards. That's just about everything.}"
<Mina‘Haplo> []*
*Tyra simply gives a slight nod, not picking up the briefcase just yet as it’s slid next to her own feet. "{I'm sure Dee can handle that. Anything else?}"
<Mina‘Haplo> ["{No, that’s about it.}" Said Michael, taking a drag from his cigarette. "{What about on your side? Anything else you need from me?}"]
*Tyra shakes her head. "{Unless there's more trouble on the horizon besides the whole sudden switch in technological superiority, can't think of anything. How soon until you're back on the front?}"
<Mina‘Haplo> ["{A little over two weeks now.}" He snickers, taking another puff, before switching back to good ol’ Paxian. "My mother's a wreck about the whole thing."]
<Tyra> Don't blame her.
<Mina‘Haplo> ["Yeah, I don’t either. But, well, if I die, I die, and this is the path I've chosen." He tosses his cigarette onto the ground, and steps on it. "I… Hm, no. Nevermind." ]
*Tyra tilts her head slightly. "Mm?"
*The_Slayer might actually be passing the time by playing a lunatic mental game of 'will he won't he' and overactively imagining the myriad of ways she can swoop down on him the moment something goes wrong.
<Mina‘Haplo> ["My mother’s… Ah, not taking my father's death well at all." He said, waving his hand in a shrugging-off motion. "She's starting to go… Well, a little haywire at this point, truth be told. I'm starting to wonder whether or not I should stay."]
*Tyra considers that for a moment, taking another drag from her cigarette. "Probably."
<Mina‘Haplo> [Michael was silent for a moment or two, then he nodded. "I’ll have to think about it. In the meantime, I should be off. If anything does occur, you can contact me. Otherwise, try to get in touch with my sister. I took the liberty of putting the contact details with the other things." He said, and started to turn.]
*Tyra raises an eyebrow at that, glancing at the briefcase. "Your sis, huh? I'll keep that in mind. Have a safe trip."
<Mina`Haplo> ["Yeah, I will. You have a good year now." He said, turning away and walking at a casual pace down a street. He turns his head as he goes. "You know, you look good with auburn." ]
*Tyra rolls her eyes. "Keep walking, playboy." She reaches down to pick up the briefcase, opening the passenger side door of the carriage to put it in.
*Tyra does eventually hop into her car and speed off. SUCCESS (?).

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