[ So, on the one hand, easily the most 'her' thing that Jessica has done since arriving in this steampunk hellhole. On the other hand... family that was still alive, just felt like fucking off somewhere you weren't? Probably her least favorite kind of case.

Which might be why Jessica is currently looking for clues in this bar, at the bottom of a shot glass. ]

Testing. One, two, three. Alpha bravo -- uh. Whatever comes after that.

[ There's a touch of hesitation in the mental 'voice' that's coming through your amulet, because fucking really? Hasn't she had enough mind games to last her a lifetime? But then the hesitation vanishes, because if there's one thing Jessica won't tolerate in herself for any length of time it's fear. ]

Look, can anyone hear me or not? Because if this thing is broken, or the welcome party was just messing with me, that would be just my luck.

Special delivery.

[ Flat. So very flat. Jessica shrugs to set down the crates she was carrying (four of them, improvisationally strung together with rope and borne on her upper back) somewhat heavily on the ground, because she's tired of carrying them and she's so very done with this job -- hired muscle will never be her favorite thing -- but she probably could've stood to be more careful, because whoops the topmost crate just slipped its makeshift leash and now it's falling and --

-- popping open, scattering flowers all over the street. ]

...Technically this still counts as delivering them. I mean, everything's right here.