Demelza sat outside the small cafe, one leg crossed over the other as she lit a long, white cigarette. Exhaling a whisp of thin, grey smoke, she looked over her shoulder and bit her bottom lip. The last few weeks had been tricky; the stolen dagger had put a lot of unwanted heat on her shoulders, and as for her magic? Well, it was volatile to say the least. Simple tasks had turned into explosions; broken plates, smashed glasses, snapped shelves. Demelza had become increasingly nervous, and if there was one thing Demelza Boskonovitch oozed, it was confidence.

And so imagine her relief when Demelza was sent a letter. They knew about the dagger, and she could only blame it on idle gossip and secrets within Knockturn Alley. They'd offered her a price, and although she knew it could be a trap, she wanted rid of the thing and rid of the spotlight. This thing was dangerous, and even though Demelza had snatched cursed items before, nothing seemed quite like the dagger. All the Magpie wanted was a good price, and a new dress. Money and clothes were always the two things that put a smile back on her wicked little face.

Demelza had replied to the letter within the hour; she named the cafe, a small place in Victoria. It was busy enough for people to pass the witch on by without much suspicion, but quiet enough to slip the dagger under the table. She'd written in the note that she'd be wearing a pair of black sunglasses, and what a pair they were. Large, oval and black, Demelza looked like any other fashion-conscious west London muggle. Blending in was one of her many talents. But spotting a trap when she was nervous? Well, that was where Demelza has failed.

In a more perfect world, Jonas thought, he would have been recruited for MI-6 as soon as he'd been cast out of magical society.  Keeping appropriate theme music from playing in his head was a near impossibility as he strolled down the street, but at least it provided a nice backdrop for the legions of evil villains that he imagined could be potentially hiding behind the bus stops and rubbish bins that lined the sidewalk.

Unfortunately, he knew, the reality was likely to be far less exciting than his imagined life as a secret agent.  The cafe that Ms Boskonovitch had chosen was small, public, and close enough to the Victoria Tube stop that it would be simple to disappear onto the Underground after the exchange.  He still kept a careful eye out as he approached the cafe, scanning passerby from behind dark sunglasses.  Even though he doubted that his soon-to-be-made acquaintance or any potential accomplices would risk hexing him in such a public place, he'd much rather be alert than dead.

Once he approached the cafe, the target of his visit was easy enough to spot.  She fit Aileen Reid's profile as well as anyone could have - about average height, blond, with gaudy black glasses that would have looked natural on any Muggle with too much money to spend.  Jonas paused to regard her for a moment, and then scanned the rest of the area for anyone who looked like they were keeping watch.  From what he could tell, no one was paying any attention to him; Demelza Boskonovitch looked to be alone.  Smiling crookedly, he started across the street, taking his hands out of his pockets as he approached the woman's table.

"The black crow flies at midnight," he said cheerfully as he pulled out an unoccupied chair.  Keeping his hands within sight, he lowered himself carefully into it.  There was no reason to make the woman jumpy than she likely already was by letting her think that he was planning to hex her. 

"Doctor Livingston, innit?" he asked good-naturedly as he settled into the chair, setting his hands on the table.  "Glad you could make it.  You have a nice trip to the Nile?"

As soon as she heard his voice, Demelza gave a sigh of relief, as if fourteen thousand tonnes had been lifted from her dainty shoulders. She turned her head towards the figure, and despite never seeing the man before in her entire life, she gave him a warm smile. To any passer-by they could be colleagues, close friends, even romantically involved. Demelza was all about putting on a false pretence, after all, it was her job. Nobody who mattered truly knew about Demelza being the true face behind the Magpie thief, and even though they had their suspicions, there was no concrete evidence.

"The Nile was just, divine," she spoke, her cold voice ringing with clarity and unfamiliarity. Haughty as ever, Demelza didn't remove her sunglasses and crossed one leg over the other as he took his position in the chair opposite her. Demelza glanced at his countenance once more, and had no sense of recognition. Despite her infamous reputation within the wizarding underworld, she was suprised that she'd never crossed paths with the presumed artefact dealer before. After all, he clearly had a distinct lack of morals since he traded with professional thieves, but, who was Demelza to judge?

Behind her sunglasses, there was something mysteriously attractive about Demelza; was it her scarlet lipstick, or her pale, alabaster skin? Was it the way she daintily carried her black clutch bag, or the way that one gloved hand gently placed a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear? Demelza could bewitch even the coldest of folk with her unconvetional appearance, and hell, did she know it.
"What price are we talking?" she said immediately, her voice less welcoming and more hushed. It was time to get down to business.

Jonas regarded the woman thoughtfully as he settled into the seat, eyes hidden by his sunglasses.  Up close, she wasn't what he would call conventionally pretty, but there was a cool confidence to her; she had no problem settling into the act without letting it ruffle her. 

Between the black bag and her own much more gaudy glasses, Boskonovitch looked the part of any Muggle woman.  She seemed comfortable enough in the role that Jonas would have taken her for a half-blood at best, which posed its own set of problems.  Disappearing onto the Underground would be a bloody hell of a lot more complicated if the witch he was dodging out on was equally comfortable in the mundane world.

"Dunno," Jonas replied cheerfully, completely ignoring her meaning as he flashed Demelza a lopsided smile.  "Hadn't had a chance to look at the menu yet, but I'd hope that the prices here aren't too rich, or I'm going to be down the river.  Did you want a drink?" he offered generously, glancing back over his shoulder as if searching for a waiter.  "You don't reckon they have anything a bit stronger here, do you?  I'd hate to ask and then get stuck with tea."

Demelza gently took a cigarette from her clutch and placed it between her lips, using a metal Muggle lighter to ignite the long and thin stick of tobacco. Exhaling gently, she hated having to use Muggle apparatus instead of her wand, but when in the company of so many non-wizarding folk in central London, she had little choice. A long thin stream of grey smoke left her scarlet lips, and she perched it in her fingers, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in her seat.

She rolled her eyes as the buyer ignored her question; he was obviously wanting to keep the element of secrecy constant, and although she respected his stealth, Demelza wanted to make the deal there and then. As he suggested some alcohol, she twisted her mouth in thought, and then thought a glass of wine would probably calm her nerves and let her settle into the role easier.
"Sure, a drink would be splendid," she replied in her cold tone, revealing next to nothing of her emotions behind the dark glasses. "This place does a divine bottle of sauvignon blanc."

Demelza was a sucker for a glass of el vino, and she figured that it could provide a warm-up for the night out she faced with Melanthe. Hopefully the dagger sat in her bag would fetch a hellish price, and Demelza almost smiled as she thought of the prospect of her day to come; she would be richer, and be getting ready for a night on the tiles. Divine.

Jonas sighed inwardly at the drink choice as he signaled for a waiter.  He didn't have high hopes for a place like this having anything decent, but even mass-produced lager was usually better than wine.  Unfortunately, he had offered, and now he was stuck with the woman's choice.

It took a moment to get the server's attention, but he finally stopped alongside their table, bringing a pair of menus in offering.

"Oh, nothing to eat," Jonas assured him, watching Demelza out of the corner of his eye as he flashed the waiter a crooked grin.  "Miss Boskonovitch wanted to try your sauvignon, so we'll take a bottle of that.  Two glasses, but that'll be it."

He waited until the man was gone before settling back in the chair, stretching his bad leg out under the table.  "So, the dagger," he said, raising an eyebrow at Demelza.  "How much did you want to pay me to take it off your hands?"

Demelza gave a forced, false smile at the waiter that reeked of snobbery, and she turned her attention back to the stranger. Crossing one leg over the other as she arranged her large oval sunglasses, she ignored the waiter as he returned, placing down the glasses and filling them accordingly. As soon as the bottle was pulled away, Demelza took a sip, her lips pursing for a moment.
"Not bad," she muttered, shrugging. She'd always been a sucker for wine.

"Don't reverse the negotiations, I aren't here for a chit-chat," Demelza spat the words like poison in her hushed breath, frowning a little. "I asked how much you're offering." The thief hated having questions reversed on her, and now was no different. She could easily go to Knockturn and get rid of this thing but she preferred to do things anonymously and in private; the more secretive the better. A few knew of Demelza's dodgy dealings but hardly anyone knew the full extent.

Her attitude had changed within seconds; she'd gone from charming to forceful, and that was the secret behind Demelza Boskonovitch. She knew how to tempt in the gazelle before it was feeding time.

The red-haired man flashed her a crooked smile as he picked up his glass.  "Yeah, I heard you," he agreed cheerfully.  "And I bought you a drink, didn't I?  Reckon that ought to be something; that bottle's got to be at least twenty quid."

It was unfortunately extremely entertaining how quickly the woman's attitude had shifted.  Jonas wondered how much of it was temper and how much was that the stolen goods were making her jumpy.  He hadn't exactly been discreet in his search for the missing dagger, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the increase in chatter on the streets had gotten back to the thief.  He had to be careful not to push her too far.  If he tried his luck too much, she could very well rabbit.

Jonas gave the young woman a friendly smile as he set the glass of wine back on the table.  "Look," he said affably.  "I'm sure you're in a bind, Miss Boskonovitch.  Far as I can dig up from their files, you don't have a record with DoMLE, and it's a shame if one heist gone wrong puts you on the Aurors' radar, innit?"

From what he could tell, the young woman sitting in front of him must have been a very good thief.  It would have taken someone with talent to break into Aileen Reid's home, and her lack of other convictions meant that she was skilled enough not to get caught.  But the one thing that could ruin her perfect record was suspicion being thrown her way; once the Aurors started taking a hard look at her, any future thievery would become that much harder.

The reasoning made perfect sense to the private investigator.  He just had to hope that it had a sobering effect on his snappy thief.

"So let's keep 'em out of it.  You give me the dagger, I'll return it to the proper owner, and we all go on our merry ways," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her.  "No reports, no Aurors, no one gets in trouble.  Fair all around, yeah?"

"This isn't a dinner date, sweetheart," she muttered viciously, leaning back in her chair and scowling at the man from across the table. "I don't need your financial flattery right now." If Demelza was at all attracted to the man in question, she'd have taken a very different stance, but in short, he was beginning to extremely annoy her. She wanted to get up, leave, and try and flog the dagger at a slashed price in Knockturn, but she needed a good price. The temptation of money was just too much for her.

"As far as you can look-up?" Demelza said, raising her eyebrows. Something was wrong. He'd been researching her. All that the Ministry had on Demelza was her involvement in the break-in at Gringotts, but she'd managed to keep out of the heat. This guy, however, she just couldn't quite trust. Instinctively she gripped her wand in her purse, but twisted her mouth in distress. There was no way she could hex this man in such a public area and escape. The Ministry would lock her up without question.

As he offered a negotation, Demelza squirmed. Tearing off her sunglasses, she finally revealed a pair of very beautiful, very enchanting but very scared eyes. Things were going bad. Very bad. How on earth had this man found her?
"I-I can't just give it up like that," she said, shaking her head. "If you were to get any Aurors involved, you'd go down for entrapment. You're no Ministry official, and what your doing is highly illegal." The stammering in her voice began to wane as she attempted to frighten the man; she couldn't just give up the dagger like that. Not without a price. "I want money. Money I earned."

Jonas kept his hands in sight on the table, leaning back in his chair, as he watched the woman with an air of friendly amusement.  He watched her hand go to her purse, could guess what was hidden there and what she was capable of doing with it, but he stayed where he was, waiting to see what her next move would be. 

This was the part he was taking a risk on.  For all he knew, Boskonovitch was crazy enough to just pull out her wand, hex him and be done with it, but nothing he'd discovered about the young woman suggested that she was that reckless.  Using magic to curse a bloke in front of a street full of Muggles would call the Ministry onto her trail more quickly than anything he could do, and she had to know it.

The moment passed and his opposite thankfully flinched.  Jonas waited politely as she recovered, his eyebrows rising as she brought up the potential illegality of his own actions. 

The private investigator tilted his head to the side, rubbing his chin as he thoughtfully considered her words.  "Yeah, it might well be illegal," he admitted at last, giving a rueful shrug.  "I might even get a month or two in Azkaban for it."  He flashed her a crooked smile.  "Not as long as I'd get if I went around breaking into the private studies of Hogwarts professors, though, so I reckon I can manage."

The fact that the thief wanted money was hardly a surprise.  He might as well have expected that the sky was blue, or that American beer was going to taste like water.  But here was an opportunity to give the young woman a graceful exit.  Jonas might want the dagger back, and he certainly didn't intend to get extorted just to accomplish his goal, but there was no reason to humiliate her in the process.

"Well, how much do you reckon is fair then?" he asked, flashing her a friendly smile.  "Figure it ought to cover the cost of the spellwork, maybe a couple of hours of your time...you want me to pay you for the mileage for getting to Professor Reid's house, Miss Boskonovitch, or did you apparate there?"

"Azkaban..." Demelza muttered, glancing down in worry. She was cornered, and what annoyed her even more was the fact that she'd allowed it to happen. Demelza was a master thief, a criminal - getting caught just was not an option. The thought of exposing herself fully to the Ministry and the threat of Azkaban was all too much for Demelza. A prison sentence? An end to her life of stolen riches and affulent hedonism? This man was threatening her sheer existence.

Demelza wanted nothing more than to grip her wand and 'confringo' this man into the next week, but alas, there were too many Muggles. The last thing she wanted as a squad of Aurors on her tail, a highly-publicised trial and a lengthy stint in Azkaban. Consorting with criminals and countless heists would be bad enough; Demelza wasn't sure if murder was another sin she wanted under her belt.

She snarled instinctively at his sarcasm and frowned, tapping the table nervously.
"Fifty galleons, just give me that and I can leave," she spat the words like poison, disgusted at her own price being compromised by this moron. She was ready to get the bloody dagger and finish him off with it the way her day had been. First, Demelza's magic had been out of control, and now, she was one sentence away from her life of crime ending. Demelza knew there was a reason she should've stayed in bed.

It had been a long time since he'd last needed to convert galleons to normal currency in his head, but he gave it a go anyhow.  Either way, fifty galleons was a sizable sum, and while he was fairly certain that Reid would pay it in order to get the dagger back, the request seemed a little ridiculous.  He also hadn't come prepared with that amount of money, and considering that no teller machine would be able to give him anything but bank notes, he'd have to troop all the way back to Diagon to deliver on the demand.

"Alright," he agreed cheerfully, not dropping his friendly expression for a moment.  "Or rather, I'd love to, but I haven't that much on me.  Would you be willing to settle for half that, or do you want to leave me your Gringotts account number so that I can have the rest transferred on to you?"