Jingling Baby [Claudia, Sigurd]

When she'd gotten a request from her favorite mercenary, Claudia had smiled ever so slightly. It was so rare that he would ask something of her; but she supposed it said something about the good business that they did. Tragically, Claudia's connections were not quite so all-encompassing as they had been during her first life, when the Duvalier Group had held the whole world in its vice grip. But, Trestrellas certainly had money with which to turn the wheels.

Claudia, after all, still knew who to contact. She could still simply say, "Claudia Duvalier sent me your way," and that in itself made waves. She used that sparingly of course; wouldn't want to go making too many waves now.

But that was how she'd acquired a thick manila envelope full of the requested information for her very favorite mercenary. And now, she could simply lean back in her office chair, watching the ocean through the floor to ceiling windows of her office with a glass of rum in hand while she waited.

This life as Francesca really was quite lovely.

He hates South America. Anyone with an ounce of evil could sink their greedy claws into this land, and for some reason, the world simply allows it. Being a mercenary, he knows what goes on around these parts, and at times, he wishes he could erase his memory and connections. Praying for a better life is senseless though. It's just his intrusive thoughts that usually come when he's particularly focused on an annoying task, the question asking why he's even doing something he finds silly. However, money is money, and he has something for this woman that she'll probably enjoy, whether she finds it a small gift or not.

He appeared in her office like he usually does whenever she requires him, without much of a word, his armor clinking, no one stopping him from simply opening her door and walking in. His helmet shifted, his eyes on her. Taking steps closer, he stood before her desk and investigating. Seeing the envelope, he understood that everything he needs is but an armlength away.

"Miss Cambronne."

"Mister Sigurd."

A smile crept across Claudia's face, a bit more genuine, and a bit more playful, than she ever might have worn in her previous life. This woman's little idiosyncrasies had bled into her own behavior, Claudia was noticing, but that was likely for the best. It simply made the disguise more convincing, after all. She gestured toward the folder on the table with the glass in her hand, before taking another sip of the rum within it.

"I've pulled a lot of strings to get you that information, you know. But it's all very real. I had some of the boys over at Myriad run a lot of checks, and we spent a pretty penny on some of this from a few less than reputable sources. I'm sure if anyone can put it to use, you can."

Honestly, a lot of the information within was so specific, or so mundane, that Claudia doubted most people could have used it for anything productive. But Sigurd was not the average hired gun, and she was plenty confident that whatever she'd provided, he'd be glad to have.