Xaviers!

Dressed in a different outfit this time, a long black dress more apropos to a dinner party than business, the apparition of Erica appeared and 'seated' herself in one of the chairs outside the holding cells. The cat who ate the canary would not have had a better grin than Erica did at that moment. "Hello, Isolde, dear. I see you have new company."

"Oh yes," she chuckles. "Have you met?"

Erica considers Roland for a long moment. "It is possible, but I meet so many people in my line of work." She's perfectly visible to him, even if she's still not showing up on security cameras. "You wouldn't believe who I ran into just recently."

"If it's that sister of yours, she still owes me money."

"She owes me more than money, but no, I ran into a card-carrying member of the Light & Life."

"Must we call them that? It sounds like a sports beverage."

"You would rather I refer to them as those assholes that chased you across France?"

"It's what I refer to them as."

"Yes, but you lack a certain poetry in your soul, my dear," Erica says, inclining her head. "I thought you would like to know though. As soon as he realizes you are here, he will attempt to put an end to you."

"Mmm, do you think he would risk it? Wouldn't that be interesting?"

"He's got you under lock and key, my dear. Even without his books, he's still an opponent of formidable knowledge. He knows how to kill your kind."

"But my kind hosts here don't seem to go in for that."

"More's the pity, I suppose," she says. She looks in Roland's direction, "And how did you get here? Bite one of the students and then walk in the front gate like a fool?"

"I came here by van, I believe. Nothing more, nothing less."

"How frighteningly normal," she says, peering closer at him, "I have offered to get my associate here out of her cell, but she has refused for reasons that only make sense to herself. I could extend the same offer to you as well."

"Oh, but I think you two would have... disagreements."

"What offer would that be? I will confess, I don't particularly fancy the idea of being held here against my will indefinitely, for no reason I can discern."

"I deal in contracts," she says, flicking one hand. A piece of parchment unrolls from the hands, the letters still shifting around. The letters themselves appear to be cycling through a variety of world alphabets. "For a later favor, I could see fit to use my abilities to set you free."

"A favor to be named later? I'm afraid you've mistaken me for a fool of some description.

I will have to decline your...generous offer."

She shrugs, flipping the scroll back up into nothing, "So make a counter offer. I'm a reasonable woman."

"How about you will have my general esteem, a hearty handshake, and a smile."

"What did I tell you? He thinks he's the hero in this story."

Erica laughed in Roland's face, "I never work for so little." She turned back to Isolde, "Ah, heroes. I've worked with a few of those over time. Often lacking in sense until the last possible moment."

"They never do tell what happens to the hero after the story, unless it's a "and one day they will rise again" moment.

One day."

"Many that don't get put into holes somewhere or pushed off into a lake to sail to an island end up coming to me, seeking a taste of that old glory. Many I've helped, though the price for my help goes up as they have less to offer. Unlike a normal market, it pays to be an early adopter when they come to me."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"She's a raven fancier," she chuckles.

"I'm fairly sure there are laws against that now, but you do you."

Erica's eyes flash purple for a moment and Isolde can feel her muscles begin to lock up, "My name's not important. I'm a business woman. Have been for quite some time. I have a diverse range of interests. I've bargained with the high and mighty and the low alike, using my powers to help give them that little something extra they need. I've been at this job for longer than this beast has been insufferable," she gestures at Isolde as the magic continues to grab hold of her, "and quite possibly for as long as you've been spitting in the Tuatha's face... Finn."

"I'm fairly sure that won't fit on a business card," Roland said, not backing down. "Am I supposed to be impressed that you know one of my names? You might as well call me Bio, while you're at it."

Isolde gets a manic grin as she manages to hit home on Erica. Her joints pop and her frame wavers as she struggles against the spell.

"What she means... is that there was a time when she was squatting in a bog in Ireland... slathered in woad with pretty black feathers in her hair..."

Erica ignores Isolde, though the magic continues worming its way against her resistance, "If I had to keep business cards for every name I've used, I wouldn't have room for my books." Her own form wavers slightly, "There's something to be said for a certain level of anonymity. I'll call you whatever you like... no charge."

"You can call me bored with this conversation. I'm afraid that, in my advanced age, I have less patience for those who speak in riddles and winding words."

"Fair enough," Erica says, giving Isolde one last venomous look and the magic binding her muscles tries to slam her into the back wall of the cell before releasing her. As the magic dissipates, so does the apparition of Erica. All that's left is an echo in Isolde's head, "I hope that doddering mage fills you full of silver, you ignorant bitch."

The most audible thing after Isolde slams against the wall and slides down to the floor... is laughter.

"...oh, I love it when she visits."

"I'm afraid I'm missing the joke."

"She always has to feel like she's better than me."

"She's certainly more mobile than either of us at the moment."

"She either still hasn't figured out why I'm here, or she's looking to cut a side deal."