Edge Town-City of Light

"I concur. I'd really not want to set foot inside a building with that many computers. We're here to conduct an investigation, not to put people out of business. Otherwise, he might need to send some kind of special inquiry. Or maybe ask if we can meet the tech guy in his home."

"I'd prefer a neutral place if we go this route." Tim pointed out, having to consider the possibility that meeting the man was going to go awry and then not wanting to be inside a Threshold.

"Let's chat with the artist first, and then if that doesn't pan out try to have a talk with the tech mogul. Inviting either of them to accorded neutral group is an attractive option, but I can't help but feel like they might be more forthcoming in their own homes. So as long as we get an invite in, it should be fine?"

Alexander

Alexander's eyes hardened, his hand reaching for a weapon that wasn't there as the arms dealer entered. He stopped the motion half-way, recognizing the man on description, at least.

The gun runner. I didn't properly lock the door because I was trying to set Ms Wagner at east. And he's punctual. Lovely.

He stood, accepting the kiss graciously—he was Italian, after all, sizing up the two guests. The man was flamboyant and gratingly confident, while the woman was nervous about something. Either could be a threat.

More pressingly, this was blatantly illegal in front of a civilian, and two children. One of whom was his sister. He returned the man's smile, his own expression full of bantering warmth.

"Punctuality is admirable. However, I was entertaining company."

He reached out, offering a handshake.

"Alexander Thorne—though you're already aware. It's a pleasure. I'll be happy to continue this after I finish with my current guests."

Aiden slide off the couch, sitting down by Bethany and giving her a sly grin.

"Hey. Little B. Do you know what time it is?"

Bethany kicked her feet, looking away from Aiden, Annette, David, or anyone else who might be able to see her face. Her voice was half-playful, half-defiant, with just a slight edge of petulance.

"No."

edited 13th Mar '17 6:39:19 PM by DrTentacles

Annette almost jumped right out of her skin at the sound of the door opening, her hand going for her purse and the other potions inside it, but remembered she had used her only weapon-type one already. David noted that her reaction was almost identical to Alexander's own but nothing. Instead both of them looked at the strange fellow and his assumed assistant as they came up and began chatting with Alexander like neither Annette or David existed. What on earth was going on now? A business meeting? That suitcases sounded heavy.

Money doesn't sound heavy. Maybe it's in gold bars? He did say he was from Vegas...gaudiness might not be outside his purview. Or is it drugs?

She swallowed and tried to make it look like she wasn't paying rapt attention to any of this. Her eyes landed on the assistant—Jackie—and her rather cute outfit. Not quite what she'd peg a drug-runner to look like but then again Annette didn't know any drug-runners. Probably, anyway.

Wizards Three

Since its now late evening, and social visits after dinner without prior notice are generally frowned upon, the Wizards return to Rollo's apartment to rest the night, and visit Monsoon in the morning. The college students are busy with finals, exhaustion mingling with excitement as the holidays approach, and have thus secluded themselves in their room. Rollo, however, is out of his top-floor laboratory, giving them a chance to go over their findings over dinner.

Another night passes, and with sunrise, the wizards once again pile into Tim's old car and head to Batignolles. Located away from the city center, the neighborhood has a famous history of arts and cultures, the home of many famous Parisian cafes, the painter Manet, and adjacent to the infamous Moulin Rouge. It's settled with age—no longer as bohemian or trendy, but remains the home of many wealthy socialites or patrons of the arts.

Monsoon's apartment is smaller than Rollo's, an outward-facing studio loft on the upper floor of one of the many complexes. The rent is still probably more than all of the wizards could afford combined. A red door, emblazoned with the number 328, is the only indication that a famous artist lives there.

Upon their knock, they hear the sound of footsteps, and the door opens a crack, a dark-skinned woman in her thirties with soft brown eyes staring through.

"Bonjour? Puis-je vous aider?"

edited 14th Mar '17 12:28:48 PM by DrTentacles

"Whoof," Terry said, patting his chest. "Nearly gave me a heart attack. Man knows how to make an entrance, huh?" Odd to see someone Alex knew professionally bust in unannounced like that. He'd have expected this guy to be more wary of, well, reactions like Alex and Anne had just had, except with more weapon in them.

Catching Bethany's comment, her turned to grin at her. "Betcha could make a pretty good guess, though."

Furry Crime Potions

"Oh, pardon." The dapper gentleman stepped back, a hand covering his mouth. "I do apologize, I can see how that introduction was somewhat...awkward." He shook Alex' hand. "I am Roberto de Neuville, at your service." He inclined his head to Jackie, twirling one side of his moustache. "Jacqueline, my assistant. She does not talk much." He turned his head to Bethany with a smile. "Your brother has business that needs to be handled, little one. I'm sure he would rather you not be present."

True to the boss' word, all Jackie did in response was make a slight wave once the heavy suitcase was on the table, going to stand somewhere in the corner of the room where people hopefully weren't paying too much attention. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jarl

"Bonjour." Jarl smiles and inclines his head, continuing in French. "We're looking for Celestine Travere. Is she in the residence at the moment?"

Terry, being a contrary little shit, immediately began quietly paying attention to Jackie. After all, Alex would presumably be handling the negotiations with Roberto, so he might as well keep an eye on the assistant in case she did anything interesting.

Wizards Three

The woman's eyes were curious, with just a slight hint of mistrust. She looked back in the room, a quick, nervous flick of her eyes, then returned her gaze to Jarl, the door half-open. Closer, now, the wizards would notice deep, ugly scratches near the doorknob—the kind that came from a heavy tool of some sort.

Her voice remained soft and even, though, as she replied to Jarl.

"I'm Samira, her girlfriend. If this about a commission or event, Celes isn't taking any new ones right now."

edited 14th Mar '17 3:26:14 PM by DrTentacles

"Actually," Jarl continued, noting the scratches on the door for later, "we're researching the ancestries of some people during World War 2. My great-grandfather was in Paris during the conflict, and through some research, I've found out your partner's grandmother may have met him. I was hoping to ask her some questions about that."

So far, so good. Technically, he wasn't lying. He gestured to Tim and Leon. "These two have been assisting me in my research. They've got some questions of their own, as well."

Just to lay on the charm, Tjalfe decided to plant himself in front of the door, looking at Samirah, tail wagging and tongue lying out of his mouth. "And my friend here could probably use some water, if you have it," he noted, patting Tjalfe gently on the head.

Samira opened the door further, enough that more than a slit was visible. The deep tool marks and splinters were also visible on the other side of the doorframe—as though someone, recently, had pried the door open with force. A delighted smile formed on Samira's face, sudden as a ray of light breaking through clouds, and she knelt down, ruffling the wolf's head.

"Oh. What a beautiful animal! What's it's name?"

She blushed, looking back up, realizing that she hadn't answered Jarl's question yet, her face one again wary and serious. No. Not just wary. Tired—dark circles had formed under her eyes, and there was a constant aura of tension in the way she kept looking behind.

"That's very interesting. And far from the usual reason people visit us. Before I decide on if I will bother my dear, I must ask—how are you with dealing with extremely difficult people?"

Tim, barely, managed to contain a snorting laugh.

"Tjalfe," Jarl replied. "Apologies if the name's a bit difficult to pronounce - we're foreign."

Jarl snorted. "Difficult people?" He leaned in conspiratorially, fake-whispering in French whilst pointing a thumb at Tim and Leon. "Between these two? I have extensive experience in dealing with difficult people."

Tim, as the bigger man, decided to say nothing. For now.

Samira nodded, appearing to make a decision, then swapped to English.

"Tjalfe. That's a wonderful name. All of you, come in. I warn you, our house is a mess—it's been a difficult week."

The door opened fully, and they were able to crowd into the studio apartment. It was, indeed, a mess. The massive picture windows that overlooked the street below were covered with black-out curtains, giving the room a cave-like quality. Broken knick-knacks and furniture sat in garbage bags next to the door, while more bare spots on the rug hinted at where they had been. The walls were home to an impressive art collection—photos, paintings, and sketches that ran through a gambit of styles and periods, but several were clearly and recently damaged, thrown to the ground, spattered with paint, or slashed to ribbons.

Samira lead them through the tiny kitchen to the barely larger living room, and waved at them to sit on the couches. In the corner of the room, a destroyed easel swayed as though about to collapse, paint splattered liberally on the floor below it.

Samira gave a tired sigh, then walked to the couch facing the party. On the table on front of it were a pile of empty coffee mugs and used plates. Pushing past them, she stopped in front of the pile of blankets on the couch, and gave it a hard prod.

"Celes. We have company. And you're going to talk to them, cherie."

The pile of blankets stirred, a pale face emerging from them.

"Fuck off."

_____________________________________________________________________________

Alexander

"In that case, it's a pleasure to meet you both. Would either of you you care for drinks?" Alexander replied, giving the man a warmer smile than before.

On the couch, Bethany kicked her feet petulantly.

"I'm old enough! I sat through the entire boring conversation with that Duchesse! And I was good! I'm not even tired! I stay up this late all the time."

Aiden cracked a grin, grey eyes somewhere between amused and annoyed.

"Do you even know how long you've been up?"

Bethany continued to avoid eye contact, caught between not wanting to go to bed, and wanting to appear adult in front of David.

"Doesn't matter. I'm not tired."

Alexander gave the man an apologetic nod, moving back to Bethany's side.

"It is actually rather late. And there's a lot of Paris to see tomorrow that you don't want to be tired for."

He reached out with a single finger as Bethany squirmed to avoid his gaze, a grin on the edge of her lips, and touched her gently on the nose.

"Impress our guests. Say your goodnights, and get ready for bed. If you're quick, I'll have time to read you stories about Paris."

Bethany finally met his eyes, her own wide and blue, pouting. She saw that he was serious, though, and gave a sigh of defeat.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiine. Promise you'll be there fast."

Alexander nodded. Bethany's gaze stayed locked on his—and Alexander was surprised to see a slight note of fear in them.

"Promise."

He reached out, and gave her a hug,

"I promise."

He stood, and Aiden remained by Bethany's side, quiet, as Alexander returned to finally do business.

"My apologies. Family. How about we adjourn to the dining room?"

edited 14th Mar '17 9:29:20 PM by DrTentacles

Annette smiled a tiny, soft smile at Bethany and Alexander's interaction.

...aw, that was genuinely sweet. He's a kind big brother.

And still a vampire. Maybe a drug lord vampire!

Shut up brain.

David sat up a little straighter, his eyes landing on Jackie in the corner. His gaze was more focused than usual.

Leon didn't speak French, and he certainly didn't magically learn the entire language overnight, because unlike some people, he actually had to study languages and practice them. Still, he got the distinct feeling Jarl had said unkind things about them in that faux whisper. He let it go without comment for the time being however.

Instead he was far more interested in the obvious signs of breaking and entering. Either they were really big slobs, or this was fairly recent. Which made him wonder just how recent, and this almost certainly wasn't a coincidence. One of the last links to the Poisoners having their homes ransacked a mere day or two before they could get there, coupled with the cop already knowing who they were, reeked of there being an information leak somewhere. Hopefully not on the council's end, but the council has had its issues in recent memory. Still, those were questions for later.

"Thank you for your time, and switching to English." He smiled as amicably as he could, even when the actual person they came to see's only response was Fuck off. Though if that was more towards her girlfriend, or towards the wizard three, was somewhat hard to tell.

Alex, Anne, Terry

Jackie shuffled uncomfortably when David focused his gaze on her. As soon as Alex made mention of a dining room, she turned around to pick up the suitcase again, with another loud huff.

"A drink would be most welcome." Roberto smiled and nodded. "If one of you would lead the way, ''s'il vous plaît. I'm not familiar with this particular high society hotel. Then, we can conduct business. Hopefully before we all get too drunk, yes?"

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jarl

Jarl looked around, his eyes slightly narrowed. He was also seeing more and more signs of a possible breaking and entering. Quietly, he scratched Tjalfe behind the ears and then leaned down to whisper something in the lupine's ear, before approaching the pile of blankets in the center of what looked more and more like a Compulsive Artist's Hell.

Well, maybe a friendly animal could score two for two on the charm today. Tjalfe moved forward to sniff at the blanket pile while Jarl stepped forward, still smiling.

"Mademoiselle Travere. I've been conducting some ancestry research on a family member of mine and believe he may have met one of yours. Do you have a moment to talk about your great-grandmother?"

edited 15th Mar '17 5:35:52 AM by math792d

Wizards Three

The pile of blankets sat up further, falling back around Celes's head to unveil of a wild bird's nest of brown curls. Much like Samira, Celes didn't look like she'd been sleeping all that much. Of course, that was to be expected of eccentric artist. The red circles around the woman's eyes, however, hinted at more than usual insomnia.

"I see, Mr Danish. That's very interesting—Samira, why did you think that I'd care?"

Samira sighed, a mix of obvious affection, and deep annoyance, walking over to the disaster of the kitchen and starting to make tea.

"Cherie. You need to talk to someone. Even the couch is tired of your attitude. Be pleasant for an hour."

Celes's mouth twisted, clearly sullen—but it was hard to argue with the clear note of concern in Samira's voice.

"Fine. Whatever. Tell me about your darling ancestor. Make it quick and simple."

edited 15th Mar '17 3:55:20 PM by DrTentacles

Tim, without a word, pulled a notebook from his bag and clicked a pen on, deciding to play the support to Jarls interview.

Jarl was going to do the talking, Tim was going to be taking notes, which left Leon with nothing. He could try to stand around and look pretty but between the smashed nose and the facial scars, that was a task failed before it even began. He shifted from foot to foot for a moment, before sort of wandering off. Both to look at the artwork, and to see just how bad the apparent ransacking had been.

"Right." Jarl cleared his throat while Tjalfe walked forward hesitantly and say in front of Celes. Could lupine diplomacy strike again?

"My great-grandfather was a member of the Danish resistance during the German occupation. He came here to Paris sometime in 1942. We don't know how he managed to travel here, or much of anything about his stay here. But he did mention having met your great grandmother here. Did she have any contact with resistance members that you know of?"

Wizards Three

Celes leaned forward, looking at Tjalfe with a flat, unimpressed gaze. Either not a dog person, or just playing hard to get. Still, at Jarl's request, her frown and prickles were a little less intense—her great-grandmother was a point of interest.

"That's not a question. You're just trying to set me at ease."

She pointed at a print, high on the wall, unmarked by the damage to the apartment. It was a black-and-white photograph of a mural painted on brick, a jackboot on Marianne, the lady liberty of France's face.

"Elvire's most famous work. She was the reason I became a painter."

_____________________________________________________________________________

A Dog, an Alchemist, and a Blond Little Girl.

Alexander lead Roberto into an adjoining room, the living area still visible through the open door, and waved at the dining table within. excitement in his chest. Childish of him, perhaps, but he always got excited around new weapons.

"Excellent. So, what do you have more me?"

In the common room, Bethany stood, eyes sleepy, and gave a small curtsy to Annette, clearly trying to abide by her promise of good behavior to Alexander. Her voice was picture of small-child grace.

"Goodnight, Misses Wagner."

She looked at David, bit her lower lip, hesitant for a moment.

"Goodnight, David. I hope we can see each other again!"

The unfamiliar additions taken care of, her graceful affect shattered, and she went through the rest of her goodbyes at breakneck speed.

"Night Terry! Night Alexander! Night everyone else."

And with that, she turned to go.

No sooner than her blonde head had vanished out the door, followed by Aiden, than Liliane appeared in the doorway, having changed in her extended bathroom visit. Pajamas. Technically. Though slightly more scandalous than the word implied. The midriff baring tank-top was definitely not standard. She grinned through the door.

"I heard unfamiliar voices, and didn't want to miss the fun. Besides, you can't leave without saying goodbye."

edited 21st Mar '17 11:11:37 PM by DrTentacles

Terry couldn't help smiling at Bethany's...Bethanyness. Damn that kid was adorable. And it was nice to see her making friends with someone her age who probably wasn't secretly a monster.

Man it was going to be terrifying once she got old enough they had to worry about her accidentally sexmurdering someone and turning into a succubus.

In response to Liliane's entrance - and dammit Liliane please don't try to seduce the alchemist lady with the sexy jammies, not tonight - he said, "These are Roberto de Neuville and his assistant Jacqueline, here to do business with your brother."

edited 22nd Mar '17 1:42:09 AM by rikalous