Her storefront was, by all outside appearances, a dingy little thing. It was one amongst a few that lined the brick faced buildings in the Western District, just across from the large towering warehouses filled to the brim of shipping supplies, crates, containers, and, with the right connections, a myriad of illicit goods. 'The Edge of the Circle', however, was almost unassuming with it's peeling burgundy paint and darkly tinted windows. She had few patrons. Or at least, few that wandered in accidentally off the streets to browse the store shelves filled with trinkets and odds and ends that promised tokens of good luck in love and finance and whatever else the naive could possibly purchase. It was a front, really, for the far more real magic that took place in the workshop at the back, magic that currently had Serafina irritatedly frustrated. A soft sigh left her lips as she leaned against the door frame of her store - staring out at the bright afternoon sun. Her fingers idly toyed with the edges of her dark ebony locks, her mind wholly elsewhere as she contemplated her latest mythical conundrum. She hardly noticed the ethereal figure that stepped into the shop from the back entrance, the man striding up to her only to drop dramatically to one knee in front of her.
"My Lady, I've found him."
Her gaze sharply focused upon the world around her as Serafina's attention shifted to the spector before her.
"He's a thief, I've been watching him for several days. He's headed this way." The man stepped up to the window Serafina stood in front of to point to a young fellow outside of the window. "Look, him. I have heard people call him Tip."
A small frown crossed Serafina's lips as she followed the ghosts' finger. Thievery was hardly the avenue that she had wanted to pursue. Still, the money on the line for completing this job was...more than Serafina had ever seen within her lifetime. It would afford her the very lifestyle she had dreamed of. Really, it couldn't be helped. She waved away the life forms that she alone could see, even if they remained just in her periphery, watching the witch's every move. Serafina opened the door to her shop, only to step out into the chilled afternoon air. God, she hated outsourcing help like this. It was always best when her patrons set this sort of thing up themselves. A deceptively innocent simper crossed the young girl's sweetheart lips as she crossed the street, fully intending to cut the man off from whatever other business he might have had within the Western side.
serafina dubois