The boy gave her an unrestrained smile as he dug into his meal with gusto. His guardians(?) chastising him for his poor manners. Sierra smiled back and went about her way. As she did, the bell rang... The ambassador swaggered into what to him, was a lil' crap hole excuse for a pub. Although years of diplomatic experience mentally corrected him, it wasn't shitty, it was "dingy", maybe even "quaint" if he was feeling generous. Which was something he was willing to be these days. Years of getting everything his way mellowed out the ol' hellraiser. He ignored the light ring of a bell which marked his entrance, as did anyone who deemed to see who the newcomer was. They were more surprised to realize who it was who's just entered the establishment. It wasn't often that someone of his standing would make an appearance at a place like Peccavi's Cafe. The cafe was known more for being a relatively family friendly affair with a side of dangerous seedy underbelly that most "normal" patrons were happy, no, eager to ignore in favor of the affordably priced class that the area generally lacked. Besides, it added to the thrill of being there. But here was something, or rather someone, harder to just ignore. Someone who made all of the "normal" and even some of the "abnormal" patrons wish they were somewhere else. It wasn't simply the way he looked or how he liked to carry himself. Both of which were rather prominent and hard to miss. It wasn't even because the ambassador was well, an ambassador. A well known one in fact. It had more to do with WHY he was such a well known ambassador. Indeed, he wasn't simply famous. He had achieved the level of fame commonly referred to as "infamous". Tattoos showing through clothes that could abolish poverty, the ambassador of United Spain & Portugal to the U.S. of A was a key participant to the Michigan Massacre. Ramirez Dosaz was a player of the public world stage. Not the shadowy behind-the-scenes clandestiny or mundane criminal activity that Peccavi's Cafe normally caters to. Hell, the fact that he wasn't using an agent or obsfocuting his identity meant that for whatever reason he came here, it PROBABLY wasn't a matter of conspiracy. Which put the "abnormal" at ease as far as the significance of his went, but nobody was still comfortable with this tiger in their wolf's den. None of this, Ramirez cared one bloody lick about. He scanned the cafe, he knew who was he was looking for, and the little twat had best not be lat- ah, there he is. In front of the bird serving him coffee. Ramirez made his way boldly toward the little merchant of curiosities, who was already clearing a place for the ambassador. "A bottle of Johnny Blue for my mate and I 'ere, lass" he said, groping the waitress' ass a little longer and more familiarly than was kosher. Sierra took it in stride. "Of course", she returned with a bow. "Might I suggest something from our Black Menu, the selection there would go especially well with your drink". "It's alright lass, I won't be 'ere long, but give yerself a big tip. I'll leave the size up to yer discretion". "Very good sir", Sierra gave another bow and went to fill the ambassador's order. Turning to the merchant, the ambassador finally deemed to greet him. "Oi, Kaufmann". "Hello ambassador, so what can I do for you today?". "A simple matter for the likes o' you", carefully, almost reverently, the ambassador took out a small package, wrapped in silk, and placed it on the table with a small 'clink'. He motioned for Kaufmann to proceed. Proceed with what? He was wordless. But presumed that Kaufmann would know the procedures better than himself. To which the small businessman did. Seeing how cautiously the former member of the villain group, the United, treated the package, Kurio Kaufmann took his own precautions. Putting on protective gloves and subtly activating multiple wards, he unwrapped the silk package, which he noted, not only had protective spells cast upon it, but was wrapped in an impossibly asymmetric manner of cloth origami. And within the silk wrappings, was a little iron box, etched with runes. Well, that explained the "clink". Kurio looked up, in the time it took him to unwrap the package, Ramirez was already well on his way with a third of his Blue Label. "Smooth stuff", the ambassador chimed in with a smile. He did not offer Kaufmann a glass. He wanted the man to keep a clear head. Kurio gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and returned his attention to the little iron box before him. He opened it carefully and took an involuntary sharp breath at seeing what was inside. He couldn't close the lid fast enough. Ramirez leaned in, but not too closely, since the box was between them. "So, what's yer appraisal then?". "Well, you seem to know what it is. So what do you want me to confirm?". "Is it the real deal?". "Oh yes", Kurio leaned back. He dabbed away a bit of sweat he just noticed and helped himself to some of the Blue Label. He felt a little more relaxed now. The tension earlier was from not knowing what was inside the package, yet being spurned by instinct not to find out. Now that he knew what was inside, he could suppress his instinct and allow his reason and knowledge to keep him safe. "It's the real deal alright". "Really? 'cause it didn't seem like you looked at it too long enough t' find out". "Don't worry, I looked long enough. Besides, you know where to find me if I'm wrong". Ramirez mulled over that for awhile, perhaps a longer while than he should. "It's just, I'll be presentin' this to m' ma'am". Ramirez let that hang for a bit. By "ma'am" he meant the Queen of United Spain & Portugal. He wanted to give Kurio a little time for that to click in his head. "You sure about this?" Kurio nodded, "I'm sure". Well he BETTER be sure, Kurio thought to himself. Which he was, but still, the Queen of U.S.P. was not someone you wanted to disappoint. The architect behind the Michigan Massacre, she's pretty much up there as far as heavy hitters go. This was serious business, and well, Kurio IS a damn good businessman so... "Here, let me wrap this up for you", Kaufmann said, taking back the package and carefully but deftly restoring it's protective spells. "And I'll add in this chain for added security". Ramirez grinned, "Sure sure, ever the opportunist are we?". Kurio returned the grin and gave some bullshit salesman line about how the chain was totally necessary or that he's not making anything off of this or it's a living or whatever. It's the same salesman small talk that always goes on after a successful sale. They bullshitted for another few minutes before Ramirez abruptly stood up to take his leave. The Ambassador took back his package and threw a thick wad of cash at Kurio to pay for services rendered and to cover the drinks. He also gave Sierra a sizeable tip on the way out. "So what was in the box Mr. Kaufmann?", Sierra asked innocently whilst clearing up the table. "Fragment of a unicorn horn. Nasty nasty business there. No good ever comes of unicorns you know. Hey, did you know that-" and so Kurio rambled on while Sierra just smiled and nodded, ignoring him as usual. Unicorns eh? Like that nice unicorn boy at tabl- eh? She looked at where the boy from earlier was and only saw the boy's guardians(?) sitting there, very very still. But I could have sworn he was just there... Sierra sighed. Well, there goes her tip.