"Annette Wagner. I'm, um..." Annette paused, her train of thought stalling as she shook Edith's hand. She wanted to be honest here, but how honest? Saying she was some random woman with a child who Alexander Thorne had put up in the room next to him out of some weird sign of generosity might be a plus for Alexander, but it also wasn't really...sane. If she was as magical as her age and appearance led Annette to believe she was then introducing herself as an Alchemist might not go over poorly.
But she'd never done that before. It felt strange.
"I'm of the n-non partying variety myself. Guess I'm an, um, old s-soul?" She smiled a bit stronger and stepped inside, going back to David and her mug of ambrosia. Maybe she should move David to his bedroom before he made an indent in the couch. "The two bedrooms just to the r-right her are mine and my son's, but anything else is fair game."
World's Cutest Direwolf
"I imagine when you have a rich guy from Vegas entertaining a bunch of rich kids from Paris, things are gonna get a little wild by normal-person standards," Terry said drily. "So, uh, Edith," he had to make conversation somehow and it seemed a bit unfriendly to jump right into business, "whaddya do when you're not avoiding parties?"
The Wildest of Ronins
Leon ignored Tim's pointed look at the moment. They could discuss the paint brush after he had been patched up and had some sleep. For now since Jarl just came down to tell them the Doctor was here, he gave a sigh of relief. "Well that's good."
He glanced down at the talking paintbrush, and guessing it could only talk on direct skin contact, ripped his already torn up shirt apart even more, to wrap it cloth, so he could carry it without it messing with his head again. He got back to his feet and headed back upstairs.
Click Click Boom Boom
Cephalopod Lothario
Alexander
Who was he?
Well, that was easy.
"I'm Alexander Thorne." He declared with a smirk. "I run a casino in Las Vegas, I pedal all manner of vice, and I do, truly, have a degree in journalism."
He leaned back, shrugging, the picture of cocky ease.
"But you know I'm not here for some supernatural tabloid rag. No. I came here to stop an old Norse god from unleashing Fimbulwinter on my city."
The last was delivered with more than a hint of anger.
"My turn. How did a woman like you end up working as a catacomb guard?"
edited 22nd Aug '17 8:49:33 AM by DrTentacles
Anne and Terry
"These days? I mostly enjoy a nice, cosy retirement." Edith shrugged. "I invested some money when I was young that paid off over time, so I'm comfortable enough to pursue some hobbies of mine. Archaeology, history, magical history, things of that nature. Quite boring, really, but the company you found was worth it."
She caught David out the corner of her eye and then returned to Anne. "Oh, I'm sorry, is madame more appropriate?" Subtext: 'is the father still in the picture?'
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alex
"Because it pays." Delilah knocked back another shot herself. "Actually, that's not the whole story. I'm technically sort of a government fugitive, so I mostly do odd bodyguard jobs for cash, and most of the people who can afford that have more money than sense. So I wasn't there because of the motley crew of minor powers, I was there for all the bored rich people trying to make their days a little less boring."
She tapped her glass and looked at Alex again. "How about you, then. What do you want here in the City of Lights?"
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
As little French as she could speak properly, Annette did know the difference between honorifics. She grimaced into her coffee before pushing an awkward response up from her throat. "Mademoiselle is alright. Or Frau. I think I'd prefer Frau. I'm...not in t-touch with David's father."
Please don't dig on that, please please please.
Cephalopod Lothario
Wizards Three
When the wizards returned upstairs, the old man had set up a makeshift clinic on the coffee table—covering it with a white sheet, needle, thread, a dark amber bottle of iodine, and other tools of the trade. Fortune's hand was spread out in front of him, illuminated by a candle he'd brought over. She was clearly uncomfortable, still dressed in her tattered black dress, her brows furrowed, looking anywhere else but her slashed hand as the old doctor's needle and threat darted across her skin.
When the wizards emerged from the stairs, she seemed to welcome the distraction, raised her other hand, and giving them a deceptively non-nonchalant wave. The old man's grip on her wrist tightened, she hissed with pain.
"Paysan!"
The old man didn't react, intent on his work. Fortune's dark lips curled into a sneer.
"Our doctor isn't all that social. Or polite. Did you take care of De Goff?"
Rollo rose, ignoring the Fortune and the Doctor, instead walking over to Tim and Leon, raising an eyebrow.
Shall I take him to the Council now? was the unspoken question.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alexander
"A fugitive? Exciting. Though, in all honesty, it sounds a bit lonely. Should I be worried for my safety?" Alexander quipped, giving Deliah another once-over. Well, that made his own stance with the law easier to justify. It also furthered his interest in the woman.
"As for what I want, I'm a man of simple tastes. I'm in Paris. I want to enjoy the sights with my friends and family. Meet interesting people. Visit the Louve and the Moulin Rougue—or is that closed down? Find some ancient magical artifacts, drink the finest wines and liquors, go to bed with the most charming people, and maybe, just maybe, steal this Samson Ibn Khalid's fortune."
Alexander chuckled, raising his glass.
"Simple things. So, what are your plans for the future?"
edited 22nd Aug '17 12:22:43 PM by DrTentacles
Just a harmless giant from a foreign land.
Tim gave him an almost unperceptible nod. "We have done what we could do. The rest is in his hands." After a moment he noted. "I will write a letter in regards to his cooperation. It might provide some help."
"You can reply to this Message!"
Anne and Terry
"Frau it is, then." Edith nodded at Anne, apparently having caught the cue even if she hadn't said it out loud. "He seems knackered," she added, like she was trying to ease the mood.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alex
"I don't see why you should be. I don't do hits. I did enough of that in my old government job. And for the record, the Moulin Rouge is still open."
Delilah scratched her chin, like she was mulling the question over. "The next job, I suppose, until I've saved enough money to get out of France for good."
"And you, monsieur Thorne? Where are you going?"
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
World's Cutest Direwolf
"You know, new city, new country, all that excitement is bound to tire a kid that age," Terry chuckled. "Heck, the excitement we've had is enough to wear out adults, which is my smooth segue into asking if I can get you a coffee?" Ugh, it would be so much easier to keep a conversation going if I thought either of them was comfortable talking about their weird magic stuff. Weird magic stuff is great! You can talk about it for ages! Man, masquerades are such bullshit.
edited 22nd Aug '17 2:40:00 PM by rikalous
The Wildest of Ronins
Leon arced an eyebrow at Fortune's complaint about lack of bedside manner. She wasn't exactly the most affable individual herself. Though he wisely choose not to voice this statement.
"As long as he's good at his job, I don't particularly care if he's got poor bedside manner. And since I doubt Wizard De Normandie would get us a poor doctor, he almost certainly is good at his job. As for De Goff, he's a sad pitiful man who had absolutely no god damn clue what he was doing. But no he's not 'taken care of'. He is however set to be shipped off to his trial."
Leon stuffed the wrapped paintbrush in his pocket as he sat himself at the table to wait for the Doctor to finish with Fortune's hand so that he could start stitching up the gash in his side.
Click Click Boom Boom
Cephalopod Lothario
Wizards Three
Rollo gave a grim, but satisfied nod.
"I'll see to the rest. You've earned your damn sleep, now."
The old warden moved past Tim, limping down the stairs, each step a heavy thump.
On the couch, Fortune's sneer faded, replaced by a brief, conflicted expression, her black eyes far-off. She'd claimed she'd join with Leon out of a desire for revenge for the murder of her friends, but had been obviously unsettled at how calm Leon and Jarl had been about the prospect of executing him. She hadn't joined them for his interrogation, either.
Her conflicted look was brief—after a moment, her face settled back into her usual smooth, haughty air, head tilted bird-like at Leon.
"A trial. How boring. Did the connard explain why he double-crossed my friends?" ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alexander
"The next job, you say? If you're looking for an...ah...opening, I promise I'm much more entertaining than most pretty, bored, rich kids."
He looked down blearily at the bottle of whiskey, noting with displeasure that it was nearly empty. Pulling aside a passing young man, he asked for a refill while he considered Delilah's question—giving his new servant a kiss on the hand as payment. It was the little things that made life worthwhile.
"Anyway, I'm going for the top, of course. Well, the top, by means of Vegas. It's my city, and I'm not going to let my kin take it after everything I've gone through for it."
He grinned, his head light.
"I'm running low on questions. Want to spar when I get tired of playing host?"
edited 22nd Aug '17 10:17:10 PM by DrTentacles
The Wildest of Ronins
"Well..." Leon glances at the doctor. Fortune already knew about the paintbrush, but this doctor presumably didn't. While he suspected Rollo wouldn't call in someone who wasn't mostly trust worthy, it still seemed silly to spread the info too widely. The fact that he currently had a magical artifact that was both sensitive enough and powerful enough to send assassins out without even an intentional command, probably shouldn't be spread around any further then it had to be. The fact that they were at least part Fae certainly didn't make Leon trust them anymore.
"...I'll explain in the morning." he finally said, figuring it was as polite as he could get to saying 'not while this doctor who doesn't need to know is in earshot' without explicitly saying that.
Click Click Boom Boom
Cephalopod Lothario
Wizard's Three
Fortune's face flushed with anger, her expression hardening into a glare at Leon's evasion.
"Ah, so you'll be making all the decisions now, is that so? Feeding what scraps of information you see fit, when you see fit? It's true what they say about wizards."
She scoffs, shaking her head, looking down at the doctor as though urging him to hurry up. The old man adjusted his glasses in response to the glare, wrapping a white strip of gauze around her hand.
"If you tear your stitches, I will not mend them." The old man gurgled, tying off the gauze, and letting Fortune go.
"Thank you." Fortune hissed in reply, standing up, and stalking over to Leon, jabbing out a clawed finger. "Living room. We are not waiting until morning."
It was at that exact moment that the clock struck midnight. Midnight. That was important. Right?
Ah.
Both Leon and Fortune's glamored party-clothed vanished.
Fortune was left in her undergarments, and Leon was left in...whatever he was wearing underneath.
Fortune's black eyes widened, an expression of supreme embarrassment replacing the anger, and her cheeks darkening for an entirely different reason.
Tim and Jarl were probably never going to let either of them live this down.
edited 23rd Aug '17 11:59:26 AM by DrTentacles
Just a harmless giant from a foreign land.
Tim simply went quiet for a moment. Then, without a word, he went to the table, refilled his glass of alcohol and left the room in a gust of parental long suffering.
"You can reply to this Message!"
The Wildest of Ronins
"What? No. That's not what I'm doing. I mean when sure. But I'm not planning on giving you the bare minimal of information."
Leon was too tired for this shit, and while his main intention was just not letting the doctor overhear about the paintbrush or what else the group has been up to, he did kind of want to wait til tomorrow to talk about it. At the very least if Fortune wasn't happy with the explanation De Goff would be long gone and out of her reach at that point.
Of course Fortune wasn't quite done. "How bout after I get stitched up first? If you hadn't noti..."
He froze as both his and Fortune's clothes melted off their bodies. Fortunately the brief turn to ectoplasm cushioned the paintbrush's fall out of his now dissolved pocket. Unfortunately it did nothing to hide modesty before it soon began evaporating, revealing his plain grey boxers. He wasn't kidding earlier about keeping his more colorful stuff at home and only bringing the cheap stuff on the trip in case of damages.
"...ced I'm still..." he trailed off flushing rapidly at viewing Fortune in just her undergarments. He whipped his head to the side rapidly. He cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking again.
"I still have an open wound afterall."
Click Click Boom Boom
Jarl
Jarl tried, bless him. He tried so very hard, tried every trick he'd learned from his days as a Warden apprentice, to his days as a mercenary, to his days as a Knight. He tried every technique he'd learned to keep a straight face.
But he couldn't help but bust out laughing. Earnest, knee-slapping laughter in a rumbling, pleasant baritone that seemed to echo Kris Kringle just a little bit.
"I'm sorry, it's just-" he stopped halfway through his sentence because he could barely breathe. His ribs stung, and he wasn't sure if it was residual tired pain or laughter, but it didn't stop him.
"You guys might wanna find something more private than the living room."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alex
"Think I'm a little drunk for a spar. I'll pass." She turned the glass over in her hands a couple of seconds before putting it down. "I might just take you up on the job offer, though. Just be warned - I don't come cheap, but that's only because I'm worth every cent. I'd give you my referral sheet, but I don't think the rich kids are going to sign it after having a run-in with the extras from The Walking Dead."
"One caveat, though - this is business." She pointed her glass at Alex, going from 'pleasantly tipsy' to 'stone cold sober' in about five seconds. "While I'm not above flirting, that's where it begins and ends. I can't guard you if my head's in the clouds, so if you have to point the come-hither at someone, I'd rather it wasn't me. Deal?"
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Anne and Terry
"That depends. Is it pitch-black and in a comically large mug? If so, yes, absolutely." Edith grinned.
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
World's Cutest Direwolf
"Damn right it's black, we're all people of quality here. None of this coffee-flavored milk nonsense," Terry said as he went to go fill the largest mug he could find.
Just a harmless giant from a foreign land.
Tim, rubbing the bridge of his nose, entered Rollo's library in search for a quiet spot. He was tired, he had a headache and felt simply weary of all the crazy. He had cast a spell he had never even contemplated before. He had dealt with a Warlock and even so they were only getting toward their goal at a maddeningly slow pace.
He had decided that dealing with a semi-nude Changeling and Warden was simply not something that was His Problem anymore.
He wanted to go home, to get into bed with the woman he loved and simply sleep for a week. Was that too much too ask?
Probably he told himself as he hung up his jacket over the chair, sat down at the table and sipped the whiskey in his glass. Still, he needed to calm himself, relax his mind before he slept or he would spend the entire night be a tossing and turning mess.
He figured Rollo couldn't be any more annoyed with him than he was anyway, so smoking a cigar in the library wouldn't really hurt anything. And he knew a spell to clean the air out of the smoke, the side effect of living with a smell sensitive woman.
Closing his eyes, he slowly savored another sip as he pulled the cigar case from his jacket, the one Kat had left as a present for him. He needed that now, needed the reminder of her as his heart ached.
A soft smile on his lips, he twist the case open and pulled the cig...wait...that was not a cigar.
It was two sheets of paper wrapped around a length of plastic. Confusion slowed his comprehension as he took the first sheet, recognizing a letter to Kat from a 'Doctor Copeland' reminding her of a need to refresh her 'implant', dated from months ago.
The second one was a handwritten note, simply saying 'Oops?' in Kats handwriting, followed by a smiley drawing.
With trembling fingers, Tim finally gave the length of plastic a closer look and noting - almost clinically detached - the faded '+' it displayed on one hand before it escaped his grip and fell to the ground.
Oh.
edited 23rd Aug '17 2:01:33 PM by 3of4
"You can reply to this Message!"
Annette breathed a little sigh of relief. No, she was not going to judge somebody purely by their taste in coffee, but it was something they had in common. If nothing else. Maybe she should let Terry do the talking here since he seemed far more capable of being friendly than she. Scooting over on the couch to where David was curled she shook his shoulder very lightly and whispered softly to him. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, gave a nod, and started to groggily stand up. Annette stood next to him for support.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm g-going to get my son to bed," she said softly, giving David's hair an affectionate tussle. He burrowed into her side. "I'll be right b-back in a moment."
The bedroom David was in was one with two twin beds and a little cupboard for clothes, but otherwise it was sparse and white like the rest of the room. Annette still thought it was excessive to have separate bedrooms in a single suite (especially with only two people) but it did give some degree of personal space that was nice. The bed David had claimed was the only spot of color in the room: his pajamas strewn across the unmade sheets and a stuffed Siamese cat laying on the pillow.
He walked over to the bed from Annette's side, picked up the cat, and without changing out of his clothes collapsed onto the bed face-down.
Annette sighed and closed the door behind them. She wanted to talk to him about everything that had happened today. Jacqueline, Samson, the alarms going off, running away from danger, that mysterious jerk-ass cab driver...but the words wouldn't come to her. Instead she moved to his side, pulled the plush, white comforter over his shoulders, and kissed him on the hair. "Ich habe dich lieb, David. Träum schön."
"I love you too, mom." David mumbled, muffled both from the pillow and his sleepiness, but Annette smiled nonetheless. She clicked off the lamp next to the bedside and started walking towards the door, hesitating before she opened it.
With David nearly asleep and the room quiet and nobody looking at her, she squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath.
Breathe, Annie. What should you do? Prepare potions? Something to fight? Is that enough? You know nothing about fighting somebody like this. Nothing at all. You just had luck on your side. It won't be there forever. You might have to hurt somebody. Or worse. But you don't have a way to.
Who can you talk to about something like that...?
edited 23rd Aug '17 9:34:40 PM by KeiranGold
Cephalopod Lothario
Wizards Three
Fortune's hands quickly went to cover herself, face dark with embarrassment, staring intently at the ground.
"Je—Toi—Nous—" She stumbled, anger gone, all thoughts of De Goff banished behind modesty. "Yes. Get your stitches."
She glared at Jarl, turning on him with the affronted grace of a water-soaked cat, his laughter turning him into a lightning rod for her to vent.
"Nothing from you, le chien!" She hissed, stalking out of the room.
The doctor motioned Leon over, expression dry.
"That saves me the trouble of picking fiber out of your gash. The High Sidhe are always troublesome. As are their children." ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alexander
Damn, I just got rejected. Am I losing my touch? Did I catch a disease? Have I been spending too much time around Leon?
Alexander inhaled, taking a moment to process Delilah's words. In his befuddled, and slightly manic state, they didn't entirely seem to register. Seriously, what was it with his luck in the past year? Was this because of Reinette?
He coughed, face slightly flushed.
"Just a second, I choked on my drink. Trying to untangle business and pleasure triggers my gag reflex."
He blinked, his eyes actually watering, dabbing at them with a tissue and taking another drink.
"Ah. There we go. The burn of whiskey replaces the sting of rejection. We have a deal, Miss Delilah. You guard my body, I begin to mend the hole in my heart you just punctured."
Kicking his feet off the table, he stood with a flourish, looking over at the table with the pretty hotel receptionist.
"I have some keen suspicions where to start. Um. Shake on it for now? I'm not sure if I'm capable of writing a contract."
The Wildest of Ronins
Leon just ignored Jarl's laughter as best he could. Engaging with him on it wouldn't solve anything. Besides, even if he wasn't happy about the situation, he knew that this was in fact probably hilarious if it hadn't been happening to him. Instead, he quickly switched seats to the one besides the doctor positioning himself so that the gash was readily visible, and finally removing the gauze and hand that had been applying pressure this whole time in the process.
"Half my scars are from Sidhe trying to kill me, so kind of preaching to the choir there, doc."
Click Click Boom Boom
Jarl
Jarl's laughter quieted down, then completely stopped when he heard the doctor's words. He turned to the doctor, eyes narrowed. "She's High Sidhe?"
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Anne and Terry
Edith practically snatched the mug out of Terry's hands when he returned with it. She just about managed to mumble out a "much better" before she took a comically large chug of the coffee mug, putting it aside on the table, hands folded.
"You've been asking me a lot of questions so far, mister Talbot. I'd like to ask some in return about you."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Alex
Delilah was all too happy to shake on it. She couldn't help herself, however, but giggle a little at his theatrics. "Look at it this way: you want me to be clear in the head when my job involves taking a bullet for you, right?"
Apparently he wouldn't have to wait long before the string of rejection passed, though. Before he'd even managed to get a word in edgewise, the receptionist reached up and kissed him, toying with the buttons on his shirt, apparently relishing a chance to unwind.
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.
World's Cutest Direwolf
Terry spread his hands and leaned back against a counter. "Knock yourself out. I was running out of smalltalk anyway."
Alex
"It's quite simple, actually. I can, if I concentrate, see...flashes. Glimpses. Usually I can only see as much as four or five seconds ahead, and only things I have in my field of view. If someone is sitting behind me in a belltower with a high powered rifle I won't see a thing, but if someone is trying to pull a gun out in front of me, I'll see it coming a mile away."
She raised her own shot glass and knocked the whole thing back in one go, shaking her head afterwards. "My turn, then. You're not really a journalist. Who are you?"
Still not embarrassing enough to stan billionaires or tech companies.