Xaviers!

Sam is a bundle of energy in the van on the ride over, her frame's tension obvious under her uniform. Every so often she gives Miriam a sharp look.

"Okay... I'm confused. Was I not supposed to tell her?" Tosh asked.

"It's fine," Sam says.

Though the feathers on her shoulders standing on end seem to imply it isn't. Or perhaps that's just nerves.

"Oh yeah, absolutely fine. Say, Sam, is this whole... thing you got going on there inspired by your new girlfriend?" Miriam asks nonchalantly, gesturing at Sam's feathers with her fingers.

"I think you know where that's from," Sam says as she regards Miriam, her bearing and demeanor mirroring some of the things Miriam has seen in the deeper parts of Sam's head.

"Yeah and you should probably shove it back down where it came from." she needles, assuming Sam is probably more likely to do the opposite of what she suggests at this point. And really, after always being the one to give into questionable impulses she's kind of glad to see Sam on the verge of screwing something up for once and she's dieing to see where that is going.

"Okay. Here's a thought. Maybe someone who doesn't represent Finn's eternal grudge against the gods should be the first one in," Tosh suggested.

"What, you think he's just going to be reasonable and have a nice chat with you?"

"No, but he might not go into an immediate warrior hate-rage."

"Yeah, why be reasonable about this. Kick his door down, right?" she says and it's borderline impossible to tell whether she's being sarcastic or not. All Sam can pick from her is that she does care about Will, in some weird way.

"He's an ancient warrior king who stuck a bloody dagger into Will's door."

"And a shop that might have innocent customers inside probably isn't the place to unleash your inner war goddess, or whatever is happening here."

"Oh I can make them leave, don't worry." she says in a tone that sounds more smug than reassuring.

"I'd argue, but that's... actually a pretty good idea."

"You want to call the shots? Fine. I'll be here when it all goes pear-shaped."

Tosh sighed. "I'm not trying to 'call the shots' Sam. I'm just... trying to keep public acts of violence off the table. And right now I'm not sure you're thinking clearly."

Miriam seems vaguely amused by the whole situation, finally showing some emotion other than aloof resting-bitchface.

"You said the guy thinks she's some kinda war goddess in training, right? And immortal? Maybe this is exactly the kind of act she should be putting on to stop him in his tracks." she says, running a finger along one of the feathers sprouting from Sam's shoulders with a bit of feigned curiosity.

"Did I say you could touch me?"

"I don't know what your problem with each other is. But whatever it is, put it aside okay? It isn't going to help Will."

After a look of realization crossed his face. "And, okay, neither will me getting bent out of shape over mystical n... stuff."

"Wow, touchy." Miriam says but pulls her hand away. "Tosh is right, we should keep that pointed in a direction that is less 'me'."

"I am more than happy to point myself in a more useful direction."

"Okay Sam, how about you get him focused on you while I snoop around back with my handy Will-detector?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." Miriam says, turning her attention to the window, eyes glazing over as she tries to feel out the immediate neighbourhood to see if she can find the shop the moment it comes into her (not all that impressive) range of maybe two blocks.

As the GPS says they approached the shop, Miriam might be able to find the shop -- it didn't feel particularly weird or out of the ordinary, nor had she ever met the butcher before, so a positive identification was rather difficult.

She mostly skims the surface thoughts of nearby people, looking for, well, meat-buying thoughts so she can start planting suggestions. Maybe something else for dinner would be healthier. Or the idea of a forgotten wallet. Or a stove left on from making tea this morning. Anything that might make people leave the shop so deploying their Sam-shaped mental bomb has less chance of catching any innocent bystanders. Her own sense of urgency working it's way into her suggestions to make them drive their point home. Leave. Now.

In Miriam's experience, most people were stupid, and easily manipulated. Most of these unimportant figures quickly figured out they had better places to be, and the passengers of the van could see quite a few people walking away from the back street that housed the shop -- like herding sheep.

Sam barely waits for Tosh to pull to a stop before she hits the pavement, striding with purpose towards the butcher shop.

"This is why I never want to be a team leader. It's like herding suicidal cats," Tosh sighed as he got out of the vehicle. "Just... keep her from pecking anyone's eyes out," he added before making a bee line for the rear of the shop, scanner at the ready.

"As if I she's going to listen to a damn thing I say anyway." Miriam mutters once Tosh has left. As much as she'd want Sam to screw up enough for her to rub the red-head's face in it, she doesn't much care to witness a reenactment of a telepath letting loose on everybody in range due to losing somebody important. Of course, she also doesn't quite realize by how much Sam's range exceeds her own.

The butcher's shop was empty, and their man -- Finn? Roland? Whatever he called himself -- was behind the counter in a white apron, reorganizing some of his stock while waiting for the evening rush.

"Afraid you've only got one customer to deal with," she says as she walks in.

"Welcome to my...." he began, trailing off when he looked up and saw who was entering his shop.

"I'm sorry, miss, are you lost? I think the comic convention is at the ExCeL."

"I think I'm right where I need to be, Mister Sackville."

"Or should I say Finn, if we're being honest?"

He paused and looked at her.

"You could say a lot of things, if we're being honest. Whatever makes your most comfortable," he said, after a pause. "And you would prefer..."

"I would prefer you tell me where my friend is, and I would hope that he's unharmed."

"That was your dagger you left in his door, wasn't it?"

"It was my dagger, yes. The message was given and received."

"Did you give the boy in the states that courtesy?"

"Does it matter?"

"I don't recall child murder being a particular highlight of Finn McCool's legend."

"These are dark times we're living in. Legends don't always reflect the full truth, either."