Artemis holds the card in her hand, turning it over one way or the other, lost in thought. She seems remarkably pensive for her previous bravado in opening the box and card without regard.
Clio's question breaks into her thoughts though and she looks up. 'Huh? Oh, right um.' She looks over the card for a proper examination this time. 'Card's nothing remarkable. Handwriting suggests the person writing isn't particularly educated or at least not a frequent writer. Daring Sun as a name means Hellsguard, so Thanalan's looking most likely.'
She looks over to the box, and the soft yellow thing inside. 'Yellow, won at the Gold Saucer, soft, "go great with the rest"... We're dealing with a collector of the plush variety here.'
Which meant it was most likely a child's present. At least, she kinda hoped it was a child. Which is a bold judgement call to make with her collection of stuffed animals back in her office.
And with that she comes to a decision. 'Nope. I cannot, in good conscience, leave this up to the Brass Blades, even though I don't think the most morally bankrupt of them would accept a plushy as a spoil. For today, everyone here is a Postmoogle. We need to track this person down and as the Gods themselves are our witness, put this in their hands.'
She crosses her arms and looks deep in thought. 'Best people to ask are Momodi or Wymond. They know everyone in this city between them.'
Clio's question breaks into her thoughts though and she looks up. 'Huh? Oh, right um.' She looks over the card for a proper examination this time. 'Card's nothing remarkable. Handwriting suggests the person writing isn't particularly educated or at least not a frequent writer. Daring Sun as a name means Hellsguard, so Thanalan's looking most likely.'
She looks over to the box, and the soft yellow thing inside. 'Yellow, won at the Gold Saucer, soft, "go great with the rest"... We're dealing with a collector of the plush variety here.'
Which meant it was most likely a child's present. At least, she kinda hoped it was a child. Which is a bold judgement call to make with her collection of stuffed animals back in her office.
And with that she comes to a decision. 'Nope. I cannot, in good conscience, leave this up to the Brass Blades, even though I don't think the most morally bankrupt of them would accept a plushy as a spoil. For today, everyone here is a Postmoogle. We need to track this person down and as the Gods themselves are our witness, put this in their hands.'
She crosses her arms and looks deep in thought. 'Best people to ask are Momodi or Wymond. They know everyone in this city between them.'
