Ahh, alcohol. It was his best friend right at the moment, and he had managed to scrape together enough coin by doing some odd jobs that he could easily do. His client was only paying enough for him to stay at the hotel but not enough for drink, and he needed that more than anything. He was still nursing a broken heart after his lover skipped town. He wasn't about to chase her down, either. Fuck it. He was tired of traveling and if she didn't want him, then he didn't want her either. But that wasn't all true, he did want her... He wanted her as much as he wanted the ale he was quaffing at the moment in the common room of the hotel.

He had managed to get enough money to drink and sat at the bar. He had a huge grin as he ordered a big glass of spirits to warm him. Menachem glanced at the smaller guy next to him.

"You look rough." He picked up the glass and had a big gulp of it then sighed happily.

He tapped the bar for a refill of his ale. This would be his third glass in ten minutes. "My lady left," he muttered. "She probably got sick of looking at my ugly face and took off." He sighed as the next tankard was set before him.

Menachem snorted. "For the better. Women are the worst. She knew what you looked like when she got with you. Probably found another man and skipped town with him. I was never the kind to let them have much power over me. After a rather nasty encounter, I pretty much washed my hands of them. You should too, ah.. " He took another deep swig. He fingers wrapped at the bar as he thought.

"What is your name anyway? We can be brothers in arms against awful women." Maybe he was a little too happy about getting to drink himself stupid.

"Marcus Tillman. Private Eye," he muttered. "She was a courtesan, so it makes sense that she would skip town with another man. Pah, women. Don't know what they want. They say they want something and then the moment they get it..." He slammed his palm on the counter. "Gone, in an instant. Women, pah!" He drained a quarter of the tankard of its contents. "What about you, what's your name?"

Hearing his profession, he perked up. He nodded in agreement to what the other said before finally speaking up. "Really? well it's very nice to meet you, don't worry about selfish women." He shook his hand without giving the man a chance to refuse. "Menachem Meijer. I have just the greatest respect for private detectives. When the rest of the world turned their back on me, it was one who believed me and saved my life. Let be buy your next drink!"

"Well, alright then," said Marcus as they shook hands. "Saved your life, you say? That ust have been a better PI than me," he chuckled at his barb to himself.

Menachem chuckled with him but patted his shoulder with a firm hand. "He was smarter than the police. But I like the idea of there being men who are willing to do things outside the regular justice system to find the truth. Since that's what you guys care about most. Well that and money I'm sure." He grinned as he nearly finished his first large mug. "What's your best case, if I might ask?"

"I am working on solving a disappearance involving the Carrington family. That is my best case so far. I am fairly certain I know who is behind the disappearance of Olivia Carrington's fiance. But the case is deeper than I thought it would be. Thanks for the next round, by the way." He took a drink and set the mug down. "People seem to come to me for disappearing acts."

Menachem rose his brow. "Disappearance you say? Hmm.. I do recall they were mentioned in the paper very recently. I hope this is more of a case of cold feet than something more grisly. You must be good at your job though if you are doing something so difficult. After all, it is so easy to make people disappear, living or dead." He ordered another mug and grinned. "How often does it end up just being someone just running off?"