Taxes? Caleb found himself slightly thrown off by this assumption. "Oh, I'm not a tax auditor," he chuckled, amused. "Though it seems you could use an accountant." He followed her gaze over to the stacks of multi-colored spreadsheets, remembering the nightmare of being assigned desk work when he'd first started at his precinct - typing up incident reports all day - and how draining it had been. Doing one's own taxes sounded about as equally hellish.

"I'm far more interested in the work you do here - and who it's typically for - rather than the specifics of your financials. You're the blacksmith responsible for all of this?" He waved a hand idly at the display cases housing various cutlery and utility tool samples. He sauntered over to one of the cases as he finished speaking, Comet trailing dutifully after him, leaning over slightly to peer more closely at a particularly impressive Chef's knife. The blade was a well-forged combination of polished stainless and carbon steel, ending in a beautiful hand-carved full tang wooden hilt.

He turned back to Aurelie, unable to suppress his sincere admiration. "Do you take commissions?" He asked, partly because it was his job to get to the bottom of whether or not this was a Rocket front, and partly because he could really use a new utility knife.

Putting on a Front[break]Aurelie Lefevre

[break]

My, she is impressive, Caleb noted as Aurelie explained the difference between a common blacksmith and her preferred label of bladesmith. It was clear that this woman carried a great deal of pride in her craft, and had been doing this sort of work for many years - perhaps most of her life. As she spoke, Caleb tried to get a sense of whether or not she was lying to him: perhaps not outright, but by omission. When she listed those that made up her recent customer base, he looked for any signs of deception - a twitching at the corner of the mouth or a suddenly averted gaze. Nothing. Everything about her manner of speech was calm and collected, as natural as if she were speaking to a friend and not a private investigator. Perhaps she'll be able to call me a friend, after this, Caleb mused. If she's clean, of course.

"You've certainly answered many of them," He replied, watching as her smile faded ever-so-slightly. She doesn't want to be further questioned, he guessed. That could mean she was hiding something after all, or it could mean she was as frustrated as any business owner might be with an unexpected visit at the start of an already busy day.

Time for a different tactic. 

"But say I wanted to commission something...different," Caleb continued, standing upright again, and moving away from the display cases and closer to the woman before him. He lowered his tone somewhat, and glanced at the door, as if checking to make sure nobody else was about to enter. He held out his hands, gesturing slightly as he theorized, taking on a slightly conspiratorial air. "Say I was...someone who needed to protect myself. Or, someone in a dangerous line of work. Say I was looking for a not just any old utility blade - " He met Aurelie's visible eye, scrutinizing every detail of her fine-featured face as he gazed at her. He wondered vaguely what was beneath the eyepatch she wore, and how she had received the injury.

" - But a weapon." Caleb finished quietly. His smile turned wolfish, with just a hint of a predatory glint to his cold blue-grey eyes. "Would you make a weapon for me, Bladesmith?"

Putting on a Front[break]Aurelie Lefevre

[break]

Time seemed to stand still as Caleb watched with intrigue as, for the first time since they’d begun speaking to one another, Aurelie’s general demeanor towards him had changed from polite indifference - a conversation between strangers - to something akin to recognition. It was in the slight widening of her visible eye, the way her brow furrowed nearly imperceptibly, a flash of shock, and then, strangest of all, the upturning of her mouth into an amused smile. A knowing smile. A smile that seemed to suggest an inside joke that Caleb was clearly the subject of, and yet, frustratingly outside of its meaning.

Whatever it was that she had just realized about him, however, it was something she seemed disinterested in sharing.

She’s lying by omission after all. But not about her business.

Attempting to hide from the uncomfortable scrutiny he now seemed to be under, Caleb shifted his body away from Aurelie, turning to look at the corridor that led to the bladesmith’s workshop. As she spoke, explaining her reasoning for turning down a weapons commission, Caleb attempted to untangle his mind from the mystery of why Aurelie might know him and focus once more on their conversation. Her tone was calm and her perspective logical: not wanting to be liable for injuries and crimes was a perfectly reasonable thing for a craftswoman such as herself to weigh when deciding what to create out of iron and steel and other such potentially dangerous materials. When she brought up Pokémon, however, Caleb’s chest tightened with a sudden disquiet.

”Perhaps Pokémon are stronger than knives and swords,” he murmured softly as she concluded her circuitous speech. ”But I myself favored blades once, precisely because I did not always enjoy forcing my Pokémon to act against others in violent ways.” He left his statement deliberately vague, but when he finally turned back to her again, he made no effort to mask the remnants of the grief he’d felt when he’d fled Kanto several years ago.

A weighty silence hung between them, then, until finally, Caleb exhaled softly; he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. ”In any case,” he continued. ”If one did not want a specific Pokémon tied to a crime for practical reasons - perhaps burn marks could be used to identify the culprit, if a suspect was known to keep a fire Pokémon - one might prefer to use a knife or a sword to commit a crime. I have seen such injuries - such deaths - in the field, Miss Lefevre. Someone is making weapons, even if it’s not you. Anything you might be able to tell me about that would be most appreciated.”

Putting on a Front[break]Aurelie Lefevre

[break]

When a somewhat discouraged expression came over Aurelie’s face at the thought of a fellow bladesmith such as herself supplying weapons to criminals - and at worst, murderers - Caleb felt the sudden urge to reassure her that things were not as bleak as he’d made them out to be. Remember why you are here, he chastised himself. If she’s the one supplying weapons then of course she will do her very best to appear put out by such reports. As the conversation had continued, however, sincere doubts had begun to creep into Caleb’s overall perception of Aurelie Lefevre. He’d entered her forge with far more certainty that she could be the person who had been supplying weapons to Rocket criminals recently; now, he felt torn between wanting to befriend her and feeling as if there were other secrets to be unearthed here, unexpected ones, ones he - frustratingly - could not fathom the contents of.

At her mention of his own interest in blades, he smiled somewhat wryly and shrugged, already prepared to embellish upon the half-lie he had already told. ”As I said, I have favored blades in the past - primarily for self defense - precisely because I am the sort of person who uses Pokémon as a last resort during combat with other humans.” Flashes of memories from the not-so-distant past invaded his mind then - torture chambers with permanent blood stains on the ground, the way it had felt to sink a sharp knife into a man’s chest (far more brute strength was required to kill a man by stabbing them than one might expect), and the look in Ambrose’s eyes when Caleb had –

Something tugged at his arm. Caleb snapped out of his reverie and looked down to see Comet staring up at him with a curious sort of expression. Everything okay? the Lucario’s dark eyes seemed to ask. He’d been so engrossed in his conversation with Aurelie that he’d forgotten the Pokémon had even accompanied him into the shop.

Caleb smiled sheepishly and continued addressing the woman before him, ”A tour of your forge would be most welcome. I admit, I am curious to see behind the curtain, so to speak. How does an artist such as yourself create such fine pieces?” He waved a hand in front of the nearest display case. ”Such knowledge would be kept with the utmost respect for your craft, of course. And who knows, I may commission something from you after all.”

Putting on a Front[break]Aurelie Lefevre

[break]

"Crystal clear," Caleb murmured appreciatively when Aurelie asked if she'd been clear enough during her tour. So clear, in fact, that Caleb really was starting to think that this woman had nothing illegal to hide; after all, she had been more than candid in her explanations of her process, and his scrutiny of the forge room had turned up nothing overly suspicious. It was a beautiful working space, he'd noted - not because it was shiny and clean, but precisely because it was not. It was the sort of beauty one finds in a well-loved, well-oiled machine, the signs of constant use a testament to how deeply someone favors it. It was the sort of beauty found in calloused hands that toiled all day to put food on the table; the sort of beauty present in the most fundamental of elements: fire, metal, and wood. This was Aurelie's domain, and when she walked within it, she glowed. She didn't forge blades because she felt she had to, or because she needed to, but because she wanted to. It truly was an art for her.

"Only one question," Caleb smiled, as Comet sidled up to him, finished with his own sweep of the forge. "How much to commission a utility blade? Something an officer such as myself might use from time to time - hopefully not for self defense, but just in case. But more often for things like cutting through a tough material in a pinch. Maybe something where the blade can be hidden if needed - pocket knife or switchblade style? For safety of course, and transport." His casual, if sincere, tone of voice seemed to suggest that the interrogation part of his visit was officially over. Now he was merely a customer.

"Truth be told, Miss Lefevre," He continued. "You have impressed me, and I apologize for taking up so much of your time. The safety of Hoenn is of my utmost concern, but an investigation is never a pleasant thing for a business owner - and craftswoman - to have to endure. All the same, I appreciate your cooperation. It seems there is nothing amiss here." He briefly flashed her a pointed look, as if to suggest, last chance to come clean about anything I may have missed, but he didn't overdo it. She had been quite accommodating indeed.

Putting on a Front[break]Aurelie Lefevre

[break]