Olliver
Legacy Name: Olliver

“Cosette, doll,” he said gruffly. “I can’t keep this case. It’s in too deep. You might have to go to the Council.”

“But, if I do that, won’t they find Carole?” Cosette asked.

“Maybe. Probably. But it has to be done. This is too dangerous,” he replied.

“Please. Please Mister Tramp,” she begged. “This is so much, I can’t go to the Council, they’ll find out about my husband’s... habit. I can’t have that. Please.”

“Too bad,” Tramp said. He began to walk away, leaving Cosette snivelling in the street.

“Hey,” Tramp heard a whisper from the shadow. “Hey Mister, hey. Come over here. I gotta talk to you.”

Tramp looked around. At first he saw nothing, and then a bush quivered, as if someone was hiding in it. ‘Well,’ he thought to himself, ‘I guess this night couldn’t get too much weirder than talking to a bush outside of Carole’s bakery.’

“What do you want? Who are you?” He asked.

“Name’s Ollie. You’re investigating the stiff, right mister? I got information.”

“Oh yeah?” Replied Tramp, “for how much? Ten bucks and you’ll tell me all you know, I’m sure. Look, kid, I’m not dumb.”

“No, Mister, you ain’t. That’s why I waited for you,” said the bush. “Not the cops. They ain’t smart at all. Come on Mister, I ain’t got much time.”

“Please, Tramp, listen to him,” pleaded Cosette, who had followed him despite what he’d said. “He might know something. Here, please, give him what he asks for.” She handed Tramp a bag of coins.

“Fine, kid,” Tramp said, tossing the coins at the bush, “tell us what you know. And make it good.”

A clinking noise came from the bush as the person hiding there- Tramp figured it must be a street urchin, judging from the voice- stuffed the coins away.

“Alright Mister, glad to do business with you,” said the urchin. “Look, a couple nights ago I saw a feller stumbling out of the bakery there, looked like he was coming down from a dream. Ya see a lot of that around here, ain’t much that looks quite like it. Anyways, I was gonna go ask him for a coin, you know, for me dinner. But before I could get to him, some lady followed him out of the shop.”

“They were friends, you could see it. Maybe more than friends, she got awful close to him, rubbing his arm and all that. Anyways, she had a bag on herself. A big ‘un, she could hardly carry it. But she gave it to him. And then gave him another bottle. I dunno what it was, but he looked real glad to get it. She patted his arm and went back inside, leavin’ him alone in the street. An’ he started walkin’.”

“So’s I followed him, as any reliable businessman would. Heard the bag clinking real good as he walked. He walked all the way to the Taphouse, he did. Went inside, with the bag. I peeped in a window, ‘cause Mikky likes me real well but always gives me a smack upside the head whenever I go in. Anyways, I saw him sitting with a dillema and some mechanical bug. They argued a bit, but took the bag from him before they left. He looked real upset but he followed ‘em out to the street.”

“But they’d disappeared real good once he came out. He looked around, trying to see if anyone was following, but of course he didn’t see me as I’m real good at hiding. He pulled the extra bottle out of his pocket. Looked a lot like a Dreammaker’s bottle, not that I would know. Well, he took it, he took the dream right there. I seen him do it. He looked real woozy, stumbled down the street.”

“Now, I got no idea where he’s gone after that, ain’t worth my time following a dreamer. So that’s what I got for you, Mister.”

Tramp looked at the bush thoughtfully, “Did you recognize the lady that gave him the bag?”

“No Mister,” replied the bush. “It were a kora, though.”

And Tramp’s suspicions were confirmed.