Hawke & Johnson, C.N.M (1.7)

   Em’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The feather hat in his hand changed to a fancy pipe and he assumed a professional scowl and loud, serious voice. “…but I think that the problem in the Parkinson case is quite simple really.”
   Hawke made cutting motions at Em which were rewarded with a raised eyebrow and wave of the pipe while he continued. “When dealing with the Other World one should always consider…”
   Hawke and Johnson both turned their attention to the open office door as the figure stepped into view. A charming, young female figure with pale brown upswept hair and wide green eyes.

   Liel paused at the doorway where she had heard someone talking. It looked as though she had found the necromancers’ assistants. Two young men met her gaze as though they were shocked at being interrupted. One was tall, thin and fair, and had his mouth open as though he were in the middle of saying something. The other sat behind a desk and was stocky and dark.
   “Excuse me,” she said in a subdued voice. “I wish to speak to the necromancers.”
   The dark one recovered first and rose to come around the desk. “Theo Hawke, m’lady, at your service. Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea?”
   Liel demurely sat in the offered chair. “You are his son? It is urgent that I speak to one of the necromancers at once.”
   The two young men leaned against the desk with their arms crossed and smiled at one another.
   “You want to tell her?” the dark one asked of the other.
   The fair one replied, “No, please, go ahead. You’ve done so well already.”
   Hawke fixed Liel with his gaze for a moment. “We are the necromancers. This is my partner Em Johnson.”
   “M’lady,” Em said with an elaborate and formal bow.
   Liel took a moment to digest this information. “Tea would be quite nice.”
   With another flourish Em produced a delicate cup and saucer with steaming tea. “I hope it is to your liking, m’lady. It’s a charming blend that I discovered while in the Isles of Green. Perhaps a touch of sugar or milk for you?”
   She shook her head. “No, thank you.” She rested the tea in her lap with a suspicious glance that said she didn’t trust the magical brew.
   Hawke pulled his chair around the desk to sit across from her.  “How can we be of service to you, m’lady?”
   Liel took a steadying breath before she began to explain.

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