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Constantine had much to discuss with Lindon. Too many case files open and frankly having the Archive on hand was useful. It was a shallow way to look at it but there were answers that needed to be had and anyone not using tools at their disposal was a fool. He pulled the kettle back around and poured himself another cup of Assam letting Lindon pick out what he will. John was quick to point out, "Not… that one. Those are the ashed of the man I exorcised last week. That's not actually the Lapsang. I'd have brought things to you but with any luck we'll have someone who might be able to assist us." He paused lifting his cup and mused, "If the lad finds the building." Which was to say warded in such a way by the previous occupant that you needed to be actively looking for it or you'd never find the building much less a door.
Ha. Your ward doesn't deter Mr. Ramsey — in fact, he notices that something is actively steering him away from the building… and then he follows that mysterious sense of… disruption in the world's language right to your doorstep, walks up and rings the bell.
*Bzzz-zzzz-zzzt*
Lindon has reached a certain level of acceptance that, to some in the mystical community, he is an asset to be utilized. One does enjoy feeling needed. He's more of a Ceylon man, but Assam will do in a pinch. Lindon eyes the tin of ashes askance. Why do you keep the ashes? You don't actually cast spells with them, do you? Isn't that…?" Macabre? Unlucky? In poor taste? Lindon's not even sure where to start.
When there's a buzzing at the door, he says, I'll get it. He opens the door and offers Mr. Ramsey an awkwardly amiable smile. "Hello, are you here to see John? I'm Lindon, Lindon Mills." He stands aside so the man can come in. The thing about Lindon is he's tall. He tries not to loom, but there it is.
Constantine was an ass. That was his defining trait, but sometimes the world needed one. He let Lindon get the door while he examined a flat map of the globe wherein there were still quite a profound amount of pink parts on the map and eastern Europe has in recent times become a bit of a jigsaw puzzle. "Sometimes. I have a fairly standing rule: You try to kill me, you become a ritual component upon expiration." It was a genuine wonder if he was joking or not. "Tomorrow is Day of All Souls and he owes me a favour." More plausible. Still, at the end of the day Necromancers didn't work in lemonade and baked goods. The bell made that horrible sound that needed fixing and lo' there was the new intern? Assistant? Scribe in audition? Well it was Doug either way. "That the new chap, Lindon? Bring him in."
The kid is only average height — a little stocky. He's wearing a tweed suit, glasses, spotted bowtie, carrying a briefcase, with his hair combed business-style. "Good afternoon. Yes, I'm the translator he hired." Doug looks up at Lindon and says, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lindon. Call me Doug." He waits to be let inside. Then he walks in, and says, "I've taken the liberty of bringing a contract for Mr. Constantine to sign, along with a breakdown for my standard rates. I think the rates I charge are pretty fair for the services I provide—It's tooting my own horn a bit," He walks into the room and sets his briefcase down on the table, "But I'm one of the best translators in the world." He extends a hand. "Mr. Constantine, I'm Douglas Ramsey, the translator you called in for a consult?"
"There's a new chap?" Lindon says as he glances to John. He peers at the man. New chap for what exactly? Is something he's afraid to ask. His expression clears as he says, "Ah, a translator. Great." He follows after Douglas, teacup in hand, and he eyes the ashes again. Somehow, he likes Constantine and enjoys his company, but those little reminders of what a Necromancer he is get a little unnerving. "Would you like tea, Mr. Ramsey?" he asks. "I can get you a cup."
Constantine pointed to Doug with the end of his stylus. "Yes. That one." As if that answered it for Lindon or should. He did, for the sake of proper business etiquette walk over and accept the contract first skimming it over. He was adept at reading scores of languages himself, the problem was that required a dedication of time, and he could leverage Lindon but Lindon was still a person and also not his artifice. "I'll be honest most contracts I like my fist tank with." Brown eyes went back to Doug and asked plain holding the contract up pinched in his fingers, "What's your definition of 'confidentiality?', Doug?"
"It means that as long as I don't have to be involved in a crime my employer can count on my silence about his business, Mr. Constantine." Doug says. "Things happen, and I'm not naive, but I would prefer not to be involved in anything where people are going to get hurt or killed. Strong emphasis on the preferred." Doug shrugs, once. "But we don't always get everything that we want. I reserve the right to *not* do something I feel is morally wrong."
Lindon fixes the cup of tea and offers it to Douglas, just setting it beside him since the man's hands are occupied with paperwork. "Those seem like fair terms, John," he says offhand-like. Lindon's helping! He's a helper. He starts to say something else, but he holds his tongue. It's none of his business what Constantine intends to do with the linguist that might require these kinds of terms.
Constantine set his tea down and gave Doug a nod as the contract hit the worktable covering the map. Did he ready the contract? He was a Demonologist. Yes he read the damn contract! His soul was in enough debt without skimming through the EULA and missing critical things that say 'and will be forthcoming with the soul of an innocent on every new moon to Kali'. Finally the pen flipped around in his digits and scribbled on the bottom of it. "Good enough…" and sign page two on the line, "for me. Besides, you don't want to give away your morality mate. It's not unlike taking out a second mortgage; You'll never square it up in this lifetime. I honestly respect this. You a God fearing man, Doug?" There was a direct question if there ever was one. Not that many weren't after meeting Jesse, but that's neither here nor there." Looking back to Lindon he passed the contract and asked, "Look that over quick? Thought we'd get a fresh set of eyes on some of the things we've found and see if the translations hold water."