Madeye is staring intently into space, his cellphone pressed up against his ear. A slight frown furrows his brow. The office still has a thick layer of dust for the most part, but a metre square patch has been cleaned. A computer has been set up, and a desk lamp. It is clear that electricity has been fully restored from the light drifting in from the foyer.
Suddenly Madeye’s face explodes into life, the knuckles gripping the phone whitening. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’D RATHER EAT YOUR OWN MOTHERS ROTTING CARCASS THAN …”. His voice trails off, resigned. “Well, if that is your attitude, madam, I bid you good day”.
He shoves the cellphone at the desk in disgust. After initial early gains, his search has certainly become less fruitful. Having found people to report some of the bigger, trickier halls he had now hit a wall lacking correspondents for RBC and TVRC to name but two. He is going to have to post an adverisement.
Madeye grimaces and retrieves the cellphone, dialling a number from a scrap of paper. Putting the phone to his ear, he waits, the ringing tone clearly audible some distance away. “Oh, hi. Vampire Midnight Post? Can I speak to Saavik please? She’s not available? Perhaps you can help me I want to post a job advertisement.”
“Yes - it’s for the Ravenblack Grimoire - we need people to cover some of the halls … oh, it’s a periodical … “ Madeye’s eyebrows shoot up. “Have I thought of advertising in my own publication? Oh very funny. Are you going to take the booking or not? … You need some details? Sure … no it doesn’t pay, it’s a prestige post”.
Madeye looks at the small phone in dismay as it emits a raucus laughing noise. After about 30 seconds the noise abates enough for the conversation to continue. “Yeah - ok - maybe scratch that last bit …. OK - you will post it when you get round to it? Thanks”. Jerk! he mutters as he hangs up.
He leans back for a moment, pondering once again the question of the smaller “boutique” halls. So far he has got nowhere with any of them, their exclusive nature making them hard to penetrate. The residents of this city could really be tight lipped when they put their mind to it. He shrugs. They were always going to be the icing on the cake, not the main event. He could live without them.