Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own the 'verse. Kudos to those who do. Some characters are mine, but what the hell.

This is my first try at fanfic here, so please comment. Criticism is good, guidance is better. :)

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“A jewelry box?”

“Yeah. This dame’s all bent out of shape about it. Says she’s going to file a complaint with the federales as well as one with the Elders. Je suis étonné qu'elle ne m'a pas remis ma tête, dong ma?

“Mais oui.” There was silence for a moment. “What’s missing?”

“Pearls.”

“Pearls?”

“Mais oui. Four black strands.”

“I'm surprised you're still breathing. Anything else.?”

“Aside from a few lesser gemstones, not much. Imperative I see the Elders before the wave comes through from this dame. She’s even lost the jewelry box.” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’ve got other jobs in the bin; I don’t need this kind of mark on me, comprende?”

“Complètement. Coordinates are being sent. Bonne chance.”

“Patch me through to the Old Dealer?”

“Patching.”

She clicked off the com for a moment, trying hard not to take note of the numerous eyes boring a hole through her skull.

Suddenly the com buzzed to life: “Fantôme Gris, this is the Old Dealer. I understand you have troubles?” The voice was as she remembered it, full of warmth and focus, but there was a tell in it that something was amiss. It seemed more cautious, more worn. What has been going on since I left? she thought.

“There’s trouble with a client, Old Dealer. Is this line secure?”

“As it can be. Things have been changing rapidly in a short span.”

Alliance trouble, she thought. That didn’t take long.

“I need an audience. A private one. Is there any way I can speak with la premier de marchand de nouvelles?” She got a few quizzical looks and a poke in the back from what she believed was a gun barrel, but still maintained her composure.

“He is unavailable, but an audience can be granted. Follow th