((OOC: This thread is prior to the events of The Acrid Scent Of Fire))

"Dreary place. Can't see why you got me up for it, boy."

The weather at Godric's Hollow was arguably worse than Donegal County, Ireland, where Ainbheartach O'Doherty had been awoken be his son an hour before.

"Hiring this...woman," Martin could never define the person they were meeting a lady, "requires a more face to face encounter than otherwise." The two men stood in the shady unseen side of the the old graveyard, out of sight from the community beyond the old church.

"And it still requires me out of bed?" Ainbheartach scoffed. "I would have rather tasked that 'Fox' character with this."

"That way it's two wands against one. And she'll be cheaper than Mr. Fox, much cheaper. He would be too much to send on this venture."

"But still, this woman is an unknown. How can you be so sure she can be trusted? Where did you even find her?"

"Trusted, no," Martin said. "Easily controlled, yes. You notice things, father, in less than reputible areas. This woman is an unknown with a problem, one that could be easily used against her."

Ainbheartach looked sideways at his son. His mind was not what it was the morning after one of his legendary nightcaps.

"She's desperate. You know how capable desperate people are."

A wicked smile appeared on the ruddy face framed with whitening hair. "Oh. I like that."

Of course you do father.

In the second time in 48 hours (or was that 72?) Dotty found herself heading face first for the ground. Only this time not from picking the wallet of the wrong shwarma buying customer[1] but from being flung from a triple decker purple bus as it slammed on the breaks at her stop.

She recovered much better this time, although the same fate would not befall her complementary hot chocolate at a surcharge of 13 sickles extra to her ticket price.

She brushed herself off as the Knight Bus went off again, temporarily displacing a fountain in the middle of the Godric's Hollow square before it zoomed away with a crack. Already not caring for the lost hot chocolate dribbling away in the snow, Dotty rustled around her clothes for the paper she believed to be her fortune and no, it wasn't lotto numbers.

After a late night pub blackout (typical for Dotty on a Tuesday) she had found this mysterious paper in her possession, an offer for a job, a job requiring skills Dotty believed she had to arrogantly superb levels. Though few believed it Dotty could be unnoticed and sneak into places she shouldn't with the same stone that brained two birds. Dotty didn't question why she was given this advanced notice to meet at a graveyard in the vicinity of a 'Godric's Hollow' or even wondered if there would be an audition process for the gig (she had learned the exact definition of a 'casting couch' was not what she thought it was after trying out for a play once when she was in New York).

All Dotty cared about was easy money, as the bus fare and hot chocolate had dipped heavily into her funds, said funds deposited in the bank of 'You Don't Want to Know Where It's Been and Don't Smell It Either, Friskers Prosecuted By a Punch to the Face.' It was a good bank for Dotty as she didn't have to bother with the correct ATM card for withdrawal.

It took her minutes later than the scheduled meeting time to find the spot to meet, as she'd never been here before. During her time in the country Dotty didn't know how to go anywhere unless by the Knight Bus or escort from one of her friends. Eventually she found the meeting spot and two old fogies on the unseen side of the churchyard.

"Hey!" she called, waving the paper. "Youse the guys behind this?"

1.	Hey, hey, hey, Come Out and Play - Jan 25

At the arrival of the woman Martin could feel the mixed reactions from his father. On one hand Ainbheartach's elitist class found her shabby and dreadful but along with that was a more raw, animalistic observation fueled with dark humor. As they watched her round the church the old man muttered "She looks desperate enough. Though can you be sure she's up for the job?"

"Regardless of her abilities we only need a small window of opportunity for one of the elves. She's mainly a distraction." Martin protectively clutched his briefcase. It was a lot foggier than he expected at this time in the morning and it was all localized around the graveyard. Martin would not appear afraid in front of his father but had he been alone in his meeting he might have been nervous.

"Yes," he replied to the woman's question. "We are the gentlemen with an opportunity. We are willing to pay you quite at deal if you can complete a job."

"First question, how are you adapt at foreign locales?"

Dotty wasn't too sure what to make of the suits. They were both suits but of the posh businessman kind, especially the older and scruffy one with layers of rich fabrics, cravats, and sideburns that gave the impression he was a fancy settee pillow that had been ripped open with parts of the stuffing leaking out.

Still, the allure of money overwrote any smart questions Dotty should be having in this kind of situation. "Adapt to foreign? Well, I'm doing a good job so far. You guys are foreign."

Mind you, the transatlantic transplanting into another Western English speaking country did not fulfill most of the requirements of foreign. There was only the madding cycle of what fries, crisps, chips, cookies, biscuits, and dumplings were supposed to mean over here, all backwards.

"I can travel if that's what you're implying." Maybe she could squeeze accommodations out of these blokes as well. "Where am I traveling and what am I doing?"

A look was traded with father and son, a signal from Martin pertaining the message of her main value is the disposability as he continued to settle the parameters at a quick pace.

"The portkey that will be arranged for you to use will take you to Russia." With Martin's years of testing legal loopholes in the ministry getting such a portkey without tipping off the Dept. of Magical Transportation would be no problem. "The portkey will bring you in the vicinity of the Halls of Russian Magical History. You slip in, slip out with a certain object, and get rewarded at a rendezvous point."

He hoped she didn't ask about how she would get out of the country afterwards but from what Martin had observed of her the money  alone was enough to distract her from where a more skilled thief would take notice.

"Russia?" Freakin' more cold, thoughts of tropical trips dashed in the process. While Dotty was slow on the uptake, if she noticed at all, the brief clarity of her mind driving her agitation was starting to notice more things about the offer provided by these two old prudes.

"What am I looking for, the czar's prize vodka potato? I can't get your thing if you don't tell-slash-show me what it is," she said, stating the punctuation.