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Shayla Fagan
Having failed to find any of the captains she usually dealt with at the dock, she was unable to purchase food for her dinner. however it was not a total loss she made the connection she had gone to meet and now had a little side job for extra cash. When she walked into The Harlequin she was surprised to see a German half in the bag being rather boisterous. Shouldn't he be at the Kraut place down the way? She thought as she approached, and did something she had no idea why she did. Reaching for the complete strangers arm she said "Sir. You may want to quiet it down before you get tossed out on your ear. The gentleman that owns this place does not take kindly to disruptive people."

Gerulf puts the Brandy into one of his inner breast pockets and downs four large mugs of some very poor tasting but very strong Irish beer. He is pretty far gone when a lovely lady takes his arm.

"Ach, Ich entschuldige mich! Wo sind meine Manieren?"

He pauses for a moment. English, not German. he thinks to himself.

"I am so sorry. I wurde carried avei, ja. It ist mine zunächst time here in Amerikha. So many troubles back home in der Faterland." He almost falls off his stool when he says this. He rights himself and spills his beer on his coat. He shakes it off by flapping it several times, accidentally flashing his pistol to the bartender and lady. He sits back down and finishes what's left of his beer.

He then turns to the bartender and says "Zis remeints me of a vitz... a joke! A Englander unt an angry Deutshlander valk into a bar, ja? Ze bartender says to ze Englander Ve don't serve Sour Krout. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Gerulf heard something behind him. Something about a stolen cigarette. He reaches into his jacket for his own cigarette case and turns around to give the complaining man one of his (his usually being reserved for ladies but in the spirit of being friendly...). When he turns around he sees one of the other patrons holding a gun on him. He seems to sober up immediately

"Ah, a Mauser model C98, 7.63×25mm 10 round internal magazine effective to 200 meters... I believe you call zem Broomhandels, ja? Because of ze grip. Your's looks to be ze 9mm variant though... I prefer ze 7.63... An interestink choice for someone not from ze Faterland, Mr...?"

The last part trailed off, waiting for a reply.

Gerulf looks at the man a moment, putting his cigarette case away after replacing the other man's lost cigarette.

"Vell, I had come in here to trinken, but if you happen to kennen anywhere a man might be able to rent a shop, I haff need of somewhere to set up mine business, Herr Seamus."

Sharp man. Gerulf thought to himself as he shook Seamus' hand and introduced himself.

"Gerulf. Gerulf Albrecht Schreck." He turned to the bartender and ordered another beer and joined his new friend at his booth.

"So, vas ist it I can help you vith? Are you, or vielleicht your associates, looking for anythink in particular?" He takes out his pipe and begins cleaning it.

Gerulf looked at Mr. O'Connor with one of those s**t eating grins. "Nine. Ze apology ist mine. I vas beink laut." He pauses momentarily to pack his pipe. "I can assure you Herr O'Connor zat mine merchandise is of high kvality. I do nicht sell cheap Spanish or Chinese counterfeits. Nie vould I do such a sink." He lights his pipe. " Regarding a shop, I am not requiring ze funds. I do require a space, jedoch. As for my merchandise I do have some working salesman replicas of the appliances I may offer in mine car..."

Gerulf puffs on his pipe and takes intermittent sips of beer. He thinks carefully about this question. "Wie ich schon sagte, zer are many troubles in ze Faterland in zees times. Nicht to mention zat ze authorities are intent on leavink Deutschland vithaut teeth." He takes another puff on his pipe, followed by a long drag, a grim look crossing his face momentarily. The glow from his pipe giving him an eerie look. After a few brief moments of silence a smile returns to Gerulf's face. "Shall vie look at my merchandise?"

The men walk out to Gerulf's car, which he parked about a block away from the bar on a quiet side street. It is a deep crimson four-door sedan with a creme canvas roof. While it looks like it may have once comfortably seated four there was now a large trunk where the back seat should be. Gerulf walks over to it and politely opens the passenger side door before kneeling on the driver's side and opens the trunk. Inside a false bottom, under some mechanic's tools, are four different pistols, three submachine guns, a rifle, and a scale replica of a Danish Madsen light machine gun.

Gerulf takes a puff of his pipe and explains: "Ze pistols are a Luger P08, a Colt M1911, Nagant M1895, unt a Webley Revolver. Ze maschinenpistolen are MP18. a Thompson, unt a PPD-40. Ze rifle ist a Kar-98, unt ze model zere, vell let's just say it has bigger brothers back at mine vearhousen..."