The Charlottesville Union Station was built in the 1800s to jointly serve the cross-section of railways that meet in the area. There were renovations made in the 1915, and have been several plans to upgrade it into a full-fledged transportation hub.
But all of those plans have had major impediments of one type or another- whether financial or even environmental concerns. What is unknown to the mundanes is that it is a locus of ley lines running across the rail lines. In the end, the Warden was able to redirect mundane attention to getting the Downtown Transit Center completed.
However, the station does still serve as an intermodal transportation nexus, and the privately developed Wild Wing Cafe is one of the reasons why. Where transportation was not enough to keep the supernatural in line, a good wing served in its stead.
Though there are still supernatural disturbances, for the most part it’s treated as a neutral place to meet, greet and plan…
“I love this place.” David said as he led the way into the station and into the Cafe. “There are few truly decent buildings of age and grandeur here, or anywhere in America, really. Although a hundred and thirty years is still young.” Being a knight of a Faerie court gave him perspective on these things. And the time he spent in Faerie—his own age was somewhat murky.
“We’ve got some solid information here” he patted the dossier. I was glancing at it a bit while heading over here. “At least, solid by the standards of he whom has subcontracted us to this task.”
“I’d like to lay some groundwork, if we can, before talking to Mr. Wallace.” David added. “Just to make sure he is not, ah, treating us like a mushroom.”
Nick deftly slipped the dossier out of David’s grip and popped it open on a tabletop. “Sure, sure,” he said, sitting down and poring over it. “Planning is good, but one must know what one is planning for. What’s Wallace involved in? With whom? Why is his daughter involved? And why do I think this has something to do with our missing constable of the local weirdness?”
Monk regarded David and Nick from behind her mountainous plate of Mile High Ultimate Nachos. Her face had a slightly greenish tint to it, as the heat from her meal made her blush. She jerked a nod in Nick’s direction, apparently agreeing with his assessment.
“Yeah, I’d like to know more about this chippie we’re looking for,” she admitted. “How do we even know that she was actually kidnapped? I mean, if she has daddy issues, she might be in on this.”
She crunched down on a heavily-laden nacho, sending a cornucopia of food products flying. “What exactly do we know about him? Who’d want to wring him for dough?”
“It may have to do with the recent, ah, troubles.” David winced inside, The Troubles were something his homeland was very familiar with. Faerie on both sides of that conflict, too. “With the Warden gone, there hasn’t been much of a central authority. An attack of opportunity, perhaps.”
He reached for a nacho. “You know, you Americans invented these things. But of course the Irish perfected it, by using fried potatoes instead of these corn chips.” He smiled slightly.
“Yeah, and in the grand tradition of Irish cuisine, you lot boiled the flavor out of them,” Monk smirked back.
“I’ve got not-so friends amongst the Winters. They love gossip, especially when someone’s getting hosed. I can ask around. See if his name comes up.”
She downed the rest of her glass, “But I think we need to know more about her first. What she’s into. Or who’s into her, if you catch my drift.”
“And I’ll make some more mundane inquiries to the same effect,” Nick said, “About Wallace and his daughter. Where shall we meet after? Somewhere that we can do more investigating? Perhaps Wallace’s place? Or the daughter’s? Ah, yes, I think that could be informative.”
Meet at the daughter’s place, after our own individual investigations and…” he patted the folder nearby “study?”
He grabbed another gooey section of nachos and crunched down upon them with gusto.
Monk nodded, holding her empty pint against her chest like a talisman. “Daughter’s place, first,” she said. “See if there’s anything that’d show who she was in bed with.”
She extended her pint, “But I think I’m going to need another drink. Or two. Sobriety doesn’t sound like it’s in my best interests tonight.”
Nick gave Monk an odd look at this, but didn’t directly address the comment.
“All righty then. I’ll see you both late tonight at Miss W’s place, let’s say at 11pm. It should be dark enough then that we won’t be seen prying about.” He finished off his section of nachos and paid his half of the tab.