| White Bishop to E4 | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 6 2014, 12:25 AM (167 Views) | |
| Andrew Cutting | Dec 6 2014, 12:25 AM Post #1 |
![]()
Toreador Primogen
|
Nora had been brought into the upper floors of the Cutting Building, a long way past the limit of most, but of course no-one got here that wasn't invited by the master of the Tower. Not the Prince, not the Archbishop, not the Baron. Once you went past the 80th floor you were in Andrew's domain and his power here was absolute, only those carefully selected people in Andrew's employ were allowed to remain here long term and though it saw its fair share of short term visitors few managed more than one meeting. Had she known this, or the amount of trouble to which Andrew went to keep riff-raff like her out she might have appreciated the fact that she was her more, though probably not. From the moment she had stepped out of the elevator with the Russian she was being watched, whether by the actual eyes of Andrew's employees or by one of the thousands of hidden cameras which left no angle unseen it mattered not. Within moments her image was being compared with police records, census data and other less official sources to determine an identity, an identity which in this case was rather difficult to find since Nora had not entered the country legally or with the knowledge of anyone but her own circle of friends - but of course Andrew did not know any of this. The surroundings were instantly distinctive; modernity made manifest in polished basalt, marble and fine lacquered wood, the whole place looked so ruinously expensive that it was hard to believe that the entirety of the top floors of the building had had the same treatment. Fine art, including no fewer than four pieces which are listed as missing by art collectors, lined the walls as though the place were a gallery and at the end of this corridor was a reception area with a broad desk behind which three women sat, supervised by another dressed in an expensive red dress. She looked at the Russian as he approached with an expression of pained respect mingled with caution, but this was soon overridden by the look of outright disdain which crossed her face when she saw Nora. When compared with the women at the desk Nora looked like some sort of reprobate filth who had been scraped off the street, which had she resisted would possibly have been the case. The lead secretary pressed a button under the desk and a door to the side was opened by a suited man on the other side who ushered Nora through; at this point Vasili left her as she was taken through to Andrew's receiving room. "Good evening young lady, please, take a seat." Andrew was waiting for her sitting in a comfortable wing backed chair, facing away from the fire behind him which framed him in a dull orange glow and was the sole source of light in the room. There was a low wooden table in front of him which had a small folder on it, the contents of which could not be seen, however it was clear he had been reading it shortly before her arrival. At his words the suited man pulled up a chair to face Andrew's which was of the same design as his, he then withdrew from the room altogether leaving the Toreador alone with the young Gangrel. "I apologise for the nature of the gentleman I sent to invite you here, had I known you and he had a history I would have chosen someone else, since most who have a history with him tend to end up rather the worse for wear. In any case you're here now and in one piece...please, would you kindly take a seat." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Dec 28 2014, 12:20 PM Post #2 |
![]()
I am Jack's Inflamed Sense of Rage
|
The nasty looks she was getting as she was dragged passed onlookers and passerby was enough to tell her where she was, as little as she had been paying attention up until this point. As if the wealth this place reeked of wasn't a dead fuckin' giveaway, only Capes and their bottomless bank accounts flaunted this kind of mad money for the rest of an impoverished and bankrupt city to cower beneath. For this all to still be standing spoke volumes on this 'boss man' she was being brought to. He had to have some significant power to still be in this position and not overthrown by the overwhelming masses of thugs and homeless that roamed the streets below his Ivory Tower. Fuckin' typical. That, and the outright disgusted looks she was getting from the people she assumed to be working here was enough to tell her under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be welcome here. That also spoke volumes on the people this man chose to employ, for surely no one was really all that comfortable with Vasili stalking around here and surely breaking shit. And people. He'd broken plenty of both in the short time she'd known him in London. Nora taunted the dumb bitch behind the desk with a glare that promised a face full of venom. If that dumb cunt knew what the fuck she was staring at. The Viper found herself reeling in the doorway alone now, looking around her before entering to see Vasilil's hulking figure taking up over half of the hallway as he skulked down the corridor and off to whatever rock he lived under surely. The last thing she was expecting to hear in Detroit was a proper British accent, but she'd heard stranger things in stranger places... Nora hesitated as she drew closer, still wordless as she studied this unnamed gentleman of the house closely, her gaze flitting cautiously between him and his man servant who'd provided her a place to sit. Was this a trap? Would the chair eat her if she sat in it and spit out her bones? What if this dude was Freddy Krueger? ...more importantly, what if this was just a fucking chair? The paranoia was strong, but she bit the bullet and slowly took a seat, her eyes never leaving him as she slowly took a seat. She was still defensive, despite his apologies for the altercation he apparently already knew about. Jesus Christ, did he know her middle name and favorite fuck position too? Shit. The door being closed behind her was a little unsettling, but this wasn't the first time she'd found herself locked in a room, alone and outnumbered by a vampire that was much older and more financed than she. He seemed pleasant enough, this bloke. Anyone could be pleasant though. "Vasili Stomalkov is many things, but grateful is not one of them. He's lucky to be alive." She left that statement where it was; if this man knew so much about her, he'd have to know her track record in London politics. No one really knew which pies she had her fingers in though. Besides Espen. Vasili would never know that it was her bargaining and another boon owed to the Prince that kept his head on his shoulders as he tore through the North and destroyed everything that was in his path. So fuckin' appreciative he was. Fucking ape. Nora still hadn't relaxed, but she sat back in the chair and crossed her legs at the knee, arms folded neatly beneath her bust as she continued to study this man. "Unless you want four more just like me on your doorstep, I'd kindly appreciate my phone call," As if she was speaking to an officer through the bars the of drunk tank, a wry smirk quirked her lips. In all reality, it wasn't an outlandish request considering he'd just had her black bagged off the street, minus the black bag. |
![]() |
|
| Andrew Cutting | Dec 28 2014, 01:22 PM Post #3 |
![]()
Toreador Primogen
|
Andrew smiled a soft yet barbed smile; much like the man himself its manner hid the sharp edges beneath - this was the kind of calculated smile which had seen centuries of use and which would likely see centuries more. It took the phrase 'If looks could kill' in a whole new direction - if looks could kill then this one would be the quiet and unexpected blade through your throat from a man you had supposed your friend. Nora's proselytizing on the subject of Stomalkov was noted, he received a lot of it from people who had encountered him, whether before or after he began his employment with Andrew - it did not however discourage him in any way from continuing to employ the Zveri. In his estimation it was far better to have the mad dog on a leash, working where he could keep an eye on him, than roaming free - tonight was proof, if Vasili had been roaming the city freely then Nora would probably be a stain on the pavement and that was something that would be most unfortunate. Generally speaking of course Andrew, like most members of the Camarilla's higher echelons, had a very low opinion of the Zveri - they were dangerous, barbaric mongrels with no true lineage who posed a danger to the Masquerade when left unchecked. However unlike many Andrew was possessed of sufficient foresight to realise an excellent opportunity when he saw one; monstrous though the Zveri were their traits could be used for his own benefit if they could be properly harnessed. It was the same foresight which kept Vasili in his employ which had now drawn him to bring Nora here, into his domain. Like Vasili she was from a clan he considered lowly, indeed of all the clans who had a substantial showing in the Camarilla it was the Gangrel which he held in the lowest esteem - at least the Brujah had the good manners to wash every now and again, and could draw their heritage from a long line of great deeds. The Gangrel were akin to vermin in social terms, vermin unfortunately blessed with rather particular disciplines which made them somewhat more than just a nuisance. Even so Nora, though sullen and defiant, was at least showing a degree of good sense. Besides her attitude was understandable given the manner in which she had come to be here and Andrew had frankly expected worse of her. Others he'd brought in in the past had protest innocence of imagined crimes, or thrown every swear word under the sun at him, a few had even broken down and confessed to crimes which Andrew knew nothing about. This city had no Sheriff at this time, unofficially Matachelli did most of his own muscle work himself, so it often confused the lower orders of society as to precisely what Andrew's role was. Perhaps it was a result of her own common sense, or perhaps it was the result of a long history of being dragged in for questioning, it mattered not ultimately, but Nora was clearly experienced in dealing with potential interrogators. Fortunately for her Andrew had no interest in doing any such thing to her, so he responded in polite but somewhat bored tones. "Your concern regarding my staff and myself is noted, however I am quite sure you realise that four friends of yours would be quite incapable of retrieving you from this place. Therefore do not think me particularly concerned by the statement. Additionally I am not a police officer, nor a lawyer and nor am I in this instance an interrogator so I am hardly compelled to give you a phone call." He bridged his fingers in front of his face and looked at Nora directly, his eyes flashed brightly with the strength of his Auspex as he read her as thoroughly as he could; then he smiled again, more plainly this time, "This said I am not inclined to deny you a phone call, call it a gesture of good will and good faith - you may tell your friends that you have been called here on business, for we have much of that to discuss. There is a phone on the cabinet beside the fire." He gestured over to a finely carved wooden cabinet which stood beside the fireplace which housed a wide assortment of bottles and decanters with varying liquids of all kinds and colours; sure enough on top was an old fashioned ring dial phone. "Dial zero nine to make an external call, take your time." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Dec 28 2014, 02:11 PM Post #4 |
![]()
I am Jack's Inflamed Sense of Rage
|
Pfft, hardly compelled? Really? "I could honestly care less about you and yours; you've made it quite clear that I'm here whether I like it or not, however," Nora paused and uncrossed her legs, her hands falling in her lap along with the mask she'd been wearing since they'd entered Capetown. Her true visage surely didn't help her here, but she could care less. Masquerading wasn't on her to-do list this evening, nor was she going to play by all of his rules. While he claimed to not be holding her captive, she found the current situation she was in to be quite the opposite. Fucking Camarilla and their stupid fucking games. If she had a dollar for everytime she'd been dragged into somebody's lavishly decorated office, she'd be retired in fucking Bora Bora by now, "I had to leave my child injured no thanks to you and your dog, and I'd like to make sure he's alright." She could have said much more, but she didn't bother wasting her time. He didn't care about her any more than she cared about him. He could be as cordial and accommodating as he wanted, that didn't change the fact that he was, in fact, the judge, jury, and executioner. Seeing as there was only one of her locked in on the top floor of a skyscraper turned fucking fortress with him and the entirety of his staff, she was on her own up here. It was obvious he hadn't convinced her of much, even as she stood she half expected to get shanked in the knee or something. She crossed the room towards the cabinet he'd gestured towards, and did as he instructed, lifting her sleeve to find Sullivan's number temporarily tattooed with permanent marker to her wrist. Maybe tossing the phone Vinnie tried to give her wasn't such a good idea. Dialing, she leaned against the cabinet and watched Andrew carefully as she listened to the dial tone and waited for an answer. The fire's ember glow gave the scales on her face and wrists a rather nice sheen, her sharp, icy eyes following his every move. If he thought she was the mouse in this situation, he'd be sorely mistaken. Once she'd touched base with Sullivan, she dropped the phone receiver back into it's cradle and slithered back to her seat silently. Once she was settled in once more, she spoke, "Please, enlighten me on all this business I apparently have with a man I've never met." |
![]() |
|
| Andrew Cutting | Dec 28 2014, 02:43 PM Post #5 |
![]()
Toreador Primogen
|
Now she disappointed him; he had hoped she would at least remain somewhat polite, he did not like to be spoken to in this manner but once again he had to remind himself of the circumstances in which she had been brought to him. Even so his patience for such things was limited, he hoped to remain cordial and would continue to remain polite and would do so as long as he could. That here childe was injured did not concern him in the slightest, if the childe in question was of pure blood then he would recover soon enough; physical injury was transitory it was hardly permanent or serious for kindred. Allowing her to finish her phonecall, which he heard the entirety of of course, he waited for her to take a seat before continuing. "Has it not occurred to you that you might have something to offer? Even to a man you have never met. You are I'm sure a resourceful individual who is not afraid to get her hands dirty and I have heard much to speak for your reputation. You are useful to whomever's purpose you serve, whether it is your own or someone else's, in this case I would like to offer you a chance to serve my purposes and in exchange I can offer you payment is any form you desire." Andrew leaned forward and opened the folder on the table, it contained numerous written documents including a photograph of her at the top; "I see that you have certain habits which it may be beneficial to break and I see that you have a desire to know more of just what kindred are capable of. I can facilitate. Or if you prefer I can provide material wealth. Regardless of the method of payment you should know that the quantity will be dependent upon your performance, and of course the risk involved. I am no miser and nor am I unsympathetic to those who work with me." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Dec 28 2014, 06:13 PM Post #6 |
![]()
I am Jack's Inflamed Sense of Rage
|
Nora's standoffish behavior faltered as he spoke, an elegantly raised brow and tilted chin as the words kept coming and confusing the fuck out of her. She didn't even know this man's name, let alone how the fuck he knew about her, and he'd yanked her off the street to not only compliment her versatility but offer her work? What the flying fuck? This dude was either a very risky Wallstreet player or a fucking psychopath. Maybe both. As appealing and too good to be true as this all sounded, she couldn't get over the fact that this wealthy businessman had already weighed the value of her stock and had a plan in mind before even meeting her. "Who are you?" The tone of her voice wasn't so defensive anymore as it was overwhelmed and bewildered. This was a first. Never in her unlife had she been dragged into Camarilla territory to practically be handed the keys to the city. Whoever he was, he had to have influence. The more she took of her surroundings that he'd created for himself, the more she could see this. He had money, and lots of it, and with money came power. The furniture was handcrafted and upholstered in the finest materials she'd ever sat upon, everything looked cultured and refined, much like himself. And he wanted her to do his dirty work? There had to be a catch. Nora sucked in a breath and composed herself, her posture no longer stiff and uncertain. She'd relaxed, her edges softened some, but she was still having a hard time coming to terms with what he'd just put in front of her. She looked between his chiseled features and the manilla folder laid open on the table with pursed lips, "Did my Sire put you up to this?" she asked carefully, wondering where he could have obtained so much information about her from. Her Beast was still unconvinced, on edge, and anxious. It didn't like how much this man knew about her, when as far as the Camarilla were concerned, she had perished in the earthquake that rocked Camden...along with Sullivan and the goddamn pink tied fuck. "What do you know about me?" Her tone was no longer confused, it was paranoid. |
![]() |
|
| Andrew Cutting | Dec 28 2014, 09:10 PM Post #7 |
![]()
Toreador Primogen
|
"I shall address your concerns in order I think; I am Sir Andrew Cutting, Keeper of Elysium for Detroit and Toreador Primogen. I am also the representative of the Cutting Family in the United States; I will of course forgive you if the last part goes over your head given that your allegiance lies not with the Camarilla but the Anarchs, insofar as it lies anywhere." He remained polite, his tone still edged with boredom as though he had had this very same conversation many, many times before and knew precisely what she was going to say and do. "Though I am sure you will doubt it greatly your sire and I have never, to my knowledge, met. Nor do we correspond or do business. In point of fact with regards to your sire you may or may not be pleased to know that I in fact know very little beyond a solid suspicion on his name. As for what I know about you, that is all in that file which you may take away with you if you wish. But to save you the reading I shall summarise." "I know that you are Nora Penvellyn, a Gangrel quite peculiarly accomplished in her disciplines given your estimated age. You are the former Baron of London, presumed dead by the Camarilla and Anarchs in London. Your presence in Detroit came to my attention two weeks ago when you were spotted by one of my employees in the presence of certain other individuals of interest of course it took some time to confirm your identity, however beyond myself and a few of my employees no-one within the Camarilla knows who you are or why you're here, and frankly I doubt they'd care. Detroit's Camarilla are a great deal more pragmatic than London's and are quite removed from their affairs as I'm sure you'll understand given our relative remoteness." "You need not be concerned, I mean neither you nor your friends any ill will - it is merely my job to know these things. If you were to enter my employ then you would serve a certain primary purpose and you would be richly rewarded in, as I said, a manner of your choosing." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Jan 1 2015, 07:05 PM Post #8 |
![]()
I am Jack's Inflamed Sense of Rage
|
"I am Sir Andrew Cutting, Keeper of Elysium for Detroit and Toreador Primogen. I am also the representative of the Cutting Family in the United States; I will of course forgive you if the last part goes over your head," Ooo, look at you with all your fancy fuckin' titles. Of course you're a Cutting. The name rang a bell very clearly in the back of her mind, "It doesn't, actually. I don't know much about your family, but I do know they exist, and they have a fairly broad reach. While my Sire failed to break me in the Camarilla manner of speaking, he did educate me. Much more than others, apparently." This was no lie, as it was now, it astounded her how many of her kin were uninformed, unaware, and simply uninterested in the world that surrounded them. It was teeming with monsters of both man and nature's creation, and if there was anything more astounding than this, nobody seemed all that interested in knowing more about it. Speaking of... "In point of fact with regards to your Sire you may or may not be pleased to know that I in fact know very little beyond a solid suspicion on his name." "That makes two of us," Nora said wryly, not entirely sure how much she believed him, but brushing it off nonetheless. She never expected anyone to be true to their word anymore. He had a big talk, and surely a big walk to match. People like that could afford to lie. Many of them actually made quite a bit of money off of it from what she'd learned of Camarilla politics. Not that Anarchs didn't lie too...but they normally picked the stupidest shit possible to lie about. She listened to him continue to ramble on with her whereabouts, regurgitated information that was fairly ambiguous and bland of any dirty details. He assured her no one else in the Camarilla knew she was here, but that didn't sate her anxiety, especially when he said he doubted they'd care. They sure as fuck would if that fucking Justicar caught wind of her presence here and rolled in unannounced. Surely they were prepared for something like that, but she didn't expect him to protect her, even if she was part of his 'employ'. "It's not you or anyone here in Detroit that I'm worried about. I'm worried for you. You don't want what we ran from in London here." She said this with a docile tone, not raising alarm or drawing much attention to it other than the subtle warning that lay in her words. It was true. The havoc they'd narrowly escaped wasn't something she wished on anyone. The need to constantly look over her shoulder now was exhausting. What she knew was supposed to be buried below Camden. She watched him for a moment of pause. His entire demeanor seemed hardly entertained at best, not at all interested and waiting to discuss more business. The hand she'd come to rest her chin on fell back into her lap as she straightened up and sucked in a breath, "I'm assuming this 'primary purpose' involves these," she held her hands, fingers splayed. They were her most valuable weapon, these hands. She decided to elaborate on the whole 'peculiarly accomplished' thing, "My Sire is a rather old and elusive creature. He served as Primogen in London and Paris for quite some time before he went under the radar again. Our bloodline is short. I'm the black sheep of the family, but I'm the last of his surviving childer. He's invested a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into me," the potency of the blood that ran through her veins was only boasted by all the blood he'd bound her with while he trained her. Of course the bond had long since been broken now, but she came out of it much more accomplished than most, that was for sure. "Last we knew though, my habits can't be easily broken. I'm also curious about what you're willing to facilitate." |
![]() |
|
| Andrew Cutting | Jan 1 2015, 08:16 PM Post #9 |
![]()
Toreador Primogen
|
He was aware of some of the events in London which should have chased her from Britain here, aware enough anyway; London after all was the capital of the country in which the Family had their powerbase and their roots there ran deeper than most knew or suspected. The Cuttings had traded in many things during their long history, but the most valuable commodity they had was information - Andrew himself had laid the foundations of the mortal intelligence community in Britain and America and his fingers continued to pull many strings in both; but for kindred affairs it was his own and the Family's network upon which he relied. That made Nora even more valuable to him; what she knew made it even more important that he bring her under his employ and to an extent his protection; she was a valuable asset in her own right as a source of intelligence as much as a tool and though he had brought here with the intention of employing her as an instrument of his will now he saw her value as an intelligence asset. Before this however he would have to set to work 'refining' her; he looked at her closely, studying her manner and appearance and noted how much of a mess she was, or at least appeared to be. He would need to clean her up if he was to safely employ her, trust the information she gave and effectively protect her; he could not rely upon her for her own safety in the state she was in right now and by this he was not referring the marks her Beast had laid upon her alone; he could smell as much as sense the drugs which formed such a key part of her diet. She was too young to understand the true nature and power of the drugs she was taking, nor the role they had played in his and indeed in human history. Drugs had been used to subvert and destroy entire civilisations - the western powers had used them as a means of subjugation, as a catalyst for the accumulation of wealth and as a hand with which to control what they had seen as lesser races. That she was under their power showed that she had fallen victim to the system he had helped to create and perpetuate. He did not generalise of course, not all who took drugs were slaves but he could tell by the quantities involved here that she was - perhaps not a slave to any person or cause, but a slave to her addiction nonetheless. "I can assure you, I have concerns worthy of a far greater degree of fear than what you could bring me from London and I say that with confidence, not arrogance." He continued to watch her, examining her with every sense at his disposal - he knew this was Elysium, but as the Keeper he was entitled to a degree of license in ensuring that the laws and customs were maintained here and while he doubted that she would do anything to break those laws and violate Elysium he still wanted to keep and eye on her while she was here. "Habits can be changed; I will not lie and say that it shall be easy for it shall not, but it is possible - even habits such as yours. But you have yet to ask precisely what I want from you; the answer to that is simple, information. I wish for you to give me information and to collect information that only one in your position can." "I genuinely mean no ill towards the Anarchs of this city, they have maintained the Masquerade and the peace even through the hardest times and they have always been prepared to work with the Camarilla. While I would of course prefer that they be brought under the welcoming embrace of the Camarilla I accept that it is not in many of their natures to bow to an authority beyond their own. But I need to know what the Anarchs of Detroit are doing and planned, for their own sake as much as mine; the maintenance of the Masquerade and the stability of kindred society within this city are my primary concerns here but I cannot ensure either without an insight into what the Anarchs are doing. In short I need you to relay news of the activities of two men in particular, the Baron, Jean-Claude Deveaux, and the man who brought you here, Vincent Tadeu." "Politically they are the two most powerful Anarchs in Detroit and they are also the most enigmatic for the Camarilla; they guard their secrets well but nonetheless they are secrets I need to know. Of course I must be fair and say that I understand you may not wish to do this so I will offer you this; you need not share any information with me that you feel will lead to harm befalling them. I will pay you for the information you give me, but I will not punish you for the information you withhold, unless of course said information relates to something which could directly endanger the kindred of this city." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Jan 1 2015, 10:26 PM Post #10 |
![]()
I am Jack's Inflamed Sense of Rage
|
Information? "That's it?" She said out loud, again finding herself overwhelmed by the offer being made to her. She could feel his judgy eyes getting judgy all over her as he looked down his nose upon her, but she let him, and surprisingly without giving him any nasty looks in return like she had with his staff. She'd yet to really understand what exactly it was that he found so goddamn special about her, but if he saw something, she'd roll with it, if only to find a direction to go in this city. "I've only met the Baron once, but Vinnie and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now. I didn't come here willingly...so..." She let that conversation fizzle out and die before she continued speaking again. It wasn't something she was particularly fond of looking back on, and it always pissed her off just thinking about it, so she didn't. "I guess I'll put our differences aside. What exactly are you wanting to know about? I mean, dude's resourceful as fuck," She said, sitting back in her seat and crossing her legs again, "I'm sure you're aware of what he's capable of moving and bringing in. Between him and Vasili, they had my whole crew trained and geared up for heavy fire within two weeks. We were getting ready to face down the Sabbat infestation that was growing in the East before shit really hit the fan with the--" Nora cut herself off again and shook her head, ignoring her Beast's anxious pacing in her chest as she continued to bring up this sensitive subject. "As far as Skeletor goes though, he's onto something with the Sword. We raided a nest a couple nights ago trying to follow-up on some rumors about a Methuselah..." The word seemed to physically make her uncomfortable, and it was obvious she didn't like speaking about it. "Anyways, beyond that, I don't know much. The only reason I was there in the first place was Evangelos, and even then, I wasn't quite sure why he was there. Like I said, I'm not exactly on the friendliest of terms with the Anarchs as of late. It's more my doing then theirs, though." She was ready to blow this joint, and it was beginning to show in the ancy mannerisms and nervous itches needing scratched. She sighed and leaned forward, "Consider me 'hired'," she said finally, "We can discuss form of payment at our next meeting, if that's alright with you?" She smoothed her hands over her lap and moved to stand beside the chair; Jesus fuck, this one was hitting her quick. She felt the tremors coming in ripples on the way up here, and now they were crashing and washing over her in waves. She needed to feed, calm the fuck down, and collect herself so she could really process all of this. Some might have judged how quickly she jumped on board, but what did she have to lose? He said himself, she could pick and choose what she told him. She wasn't outing anyway or doing anyone dirty if she was sharing was common knowledge? It wasn't like Vinnie really involved her in any of his personal business dealings anyways, and if anything were going on that put more than them in immediate danger...it probably be publicly blasted anyways...so why the fuck not? It was an easy way to find a powerful ally, and he was willing to break her of the one thing that held her back? Fuck yeah, she was sold. Who wouldn't be? "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I was hungry before I got dragged here. I've been staying in the park Vasili picked me up at... just send him my way next time you want talk. I'll be more agreeable next time." With that, she smirked. "May I see myself out?" |
![]() |
|
| Andrew Cutting | Jan 1 2015, 11:04 PM Post #11 |
![]()
Toreador Primogen
|
"I can give you a better alternative; given your poor relationship with Mr Stomalkov at this time I will give you a means of contacting me directly. There will of course be plenty of time to remedy this situation between yourself and Vasili, but I do not feel altogether comfortable relying upon him not to try and rip you limb from limb, I feel he was only able to restrain himself tonight because I had given him very specific instructions and because he did not know what I wanted with you. I do not think I can rely upon this again." Andrew reached over to the low side table next to his own chair and then to a hidden drawer just beneath its surface, from this he drew out a smart looking touch screen phone - not the newest model nor the best - but then giving Nora an expensive phone which was brand new might give those around her cause to be somewhat suspicious. He handed it to the Gangrel with the same careful and self assured manner he had maintained throughout their meeting; "I am listed under contacts as 'Supplies' you may change it to something else if you wish, however I do not want my name to be used, ever. A precaution for your safety as much as mine I am sure you will agree Ms Penvellyn. In the meantime I want you to meet with Deveaux, and to find out what Tadeu intends with regards to this business surrounding the Methuselah. You may not be on good terms with him, but given your past relationship I am quite sure you will be able to get the information out of him." "You are free to walk yourself out, I hardly think it appropriate to treat you like a child." |
![]() |
|
| Nora Penvellyn | Jan 1 2015, 11:31 PM Post #12 |
![]()
I am Jack's Inflamed Sense of Rage
|
"I thank you, kindly" The British really came out in that sentence, as she stepped towards him to take the phone and tuck it into the inside breast pocket of her jacket. "I suppose I'll call you once I know more." Given everything he'd said about Vasili, it seemed to open fresh wounds, still not entirely understanding the hatred the Bear had fostered for her. She brushed it off her shoulders though, giving Andrew a silent salute and crossing back to the door from which she'd come. She hovered for a moment though, but said nothing as she opened the door and just as quickly shut it behind her. Making her way back down to the main floor, she stepped back out into the brisk Detroit night and was pleasantly surprised with how good of timing she made with dodging that bullet. For some reason she was convinced she wouldn't see the light of night for nights on end. Instead she now had an employer and a job to do. But first... she had to feed and find her pack. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Downtown (Camarilla) · Next Topic » |
| Theme: GothicNew | Track Topic · E-mail Topic |
7:15 PM Jul 11
|







7:15 PM Jul 11