“Filming is paused, a contestant is missing, and Vladislaus Straud has not appeared!” Simeon roared, as he burst onto the Magic HQ rooftop. “We have risked everything and we have nothing to show for it!”
L. Faba took one look at Simeon’s furious expression and went back to reading the paper.
“Missing, probably dead,” Morgyn sighed, helping themselves to another plate before signaling to one of the attendants.
“Do you have any of those little salmon croquettes? I just love a finger food.”
“That is precisely my point!” Simeon seethed. “Some set of befouled creatures have already taken steps and yet here we sit.” When no one responded, he conjured a ball of magic, holding it aloft. “Am I the only one concerned with the whereabouts and activities of Vladislaus Straud?”
The waitstaff gasped and began to whisper. L. Faba set her paper down in huff. “Leave us!”
Plates, cups, and serving dishes clattered as the staff quickly made their way through the portal door.
“Damn it, Simeon! Do you know how much magic it takes to hold open a portal to the finest restaurant in San Myshuno?”
Simeon straightened and glared at her.
“A lot! It costs a lot and you are ruining it!” she hissed.
As Simeon and L. Faba continued eye each other angrily, Morgyn rose from their chair, delicately dabbing at their mouth with a napkin. “Simeon is wound entirely too tight, but clearly one of the groups vying for The Owl is…what are the kids calling it? Coming in hot. I have plans in town, I’ll meet with our contacts and get a status update.”
“You propose to go out at a time like this?” Simeon jeered, voice dripping with criticism. “When our power is needed to—”
“Give it a rest, Simeon,” L. Faba sighed, reaching again for her paper. “We all know Morgyn needs his little diversions. Why don’t you work on something useful. Like getting an update from those witches you love so dearly and their hunt for the God of Death.”
Simeon looked put out. “Even if they found whatever vicious creature he has surely taken up residence in, what would you have me do?”
“Kill him,” L. Faba muttered with a roll of her eyes. “And save me the headache.”
Simeon looked decidedly uncomfortable.