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In Vino Veritas (Andrew Cutting, Giovanni, Open); The grand opening of Detroit's hottest new wine bar and restaurant!
Topic Started: Jan 30 2015, 01:54 AM (155 Views)
Rachel Milliner
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Months of construction, details, hiring, firing, and media buzz had finally led to a most highly anticipated event for both Kindred and kine alike. The place was immaculate, its staff likewise in new black slacks and black polo shirts bearing the Veritas logo, a cluster of white grapes. The kitchen staff were in full swing with their prep work, knives sharp and tongues sharper. But their rowdy merriment quieted a bit when Rachel walked out of her office and came through for a brief word.

For the first time in living memory, she was dressed to the nines. A smart red cocktail dress hugged her petite frame, with a skinny black belt cinched around her waist and a plunging neckline that showed off the *ahem* assets she normally hid. A sturdy but stylish pair of black heels accompanied the look, as well as a sheer black shrug that toned down the firey smolder of the dress. Her dark mahogany hair was styled in a modest arrangement at the back of her neck, showing off the diamond stud earrings her father had given her for a birthday a few years ago. Her makeup was likewise smoke and velvet, just the right touches here and there without making it look like she'd slathered war paint on. But what made Rachel striking wasn't just the red silk hugging her athletic little figure; it was sheer and utter confidence.

"Showtime, ladies and gentlemen," she called with the faintest hint of a smile at the expected whistles from the line cooks. Jack Saunders was running her kitchen tonight, an old friend she'd trust with just about anything. He nodded silently to her before running through the rest of his checklist. Rachel envied him quite a bit, even with the insane rush she knew would come once those doors opened. The kitchen was a world, a system she knew and liked. It was as comfortable as an old pair of sneakers, as was the aching back and feet at the end of the night. Well, she might still get those thanks to the damn heels. With a smooth click of said shoes, she left the kitchen in Jack's hands and went to the front of the house.

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The floor staff was primed, menus and wine lists tucked into their arms while the hostess, a tall leggy redhead in a tight little green dress, stood at the ready with the books full. Rachel caught her attention briefly, and asked if she'd seen Sir Andrew yet. She'd called him ahead of time to invite him to attend the ribbon cutting tonight, but she wasn't sure he'd make it on time. The sidewalk outside was packed as far as the eye could see, with hungry clients and press alike. The Mayor was out there with his wife and a few of his staff, she knew, and had a prime table waiting. So were the well-deserving men who worked at the Squad 3 Fire Station, also VIP's in a show of civic appreciation.

Rachel was in full-on duck mode- calm on the surface, with her feet paddling like mad underneath. A million details still strung through her head as she gave a few last-minute instructions to her sommelier, and the guard who would be posted outside the Kindred lounge downstairs. Short though she was, she might as well have been ten feet tall with her poise, a captain at the helm of a ship's maiden voyage. A lot could go wrong, but chances were slim.

Her heart raced with a vicious thrill, but her face was the picture of calm. It was almost time...
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
Andrew was precisely on time for the opening; he lived in the same building after all so what sort of man would he be to be late to a function in his own home. This was Elysium and he was its keeper; none had yet challenged his ability to do so, partially because the sort of Elysium he maintained was one which most enjoyed - a tastefully decorated hospitable place with good food for kine and appropriate dining for Kindred. This venue wasn't the only part of Elysium open to the public but it was the newest and one of its finest; plus he had played a significant part in bankrolling the project so of course he had a vested interest in its success.

Tonight he was dressed in an exquisitely tailored bespoke suit, with a fine linen shirt and deep crimson tie with matching pocket handkerchief, beyond this his only adornment was a single plain ring worn on his right middle finger which held the Cutting family crest engraved upon it. He stepped into the restaurant and wine lounge with his usual grace and confidence, followed by a young Haitian-American woman in black velvet and an aging man who looked as though he was in his late sixties, with his shock of white hair and carefully trimmed beard. Both were business contacts, the Haitian was the Toreador Primogen of Mobile, Alabama while the older man was a wealthy Ventrue from Boston who invested money in Andrew's various business interests. The pair wouldn't be with him for the whole evening, but given that their presence in the city coincided with this grand opening it would have been rude not to invite them to attend; he had high hopes for Ms. Milliner and her work here after all and if she lived up to expectations here then she would not only make a good impression on Andrew, but also his two contacts and that could only mean better business.

As he arrived he took note that the Matre'd had noticed his arrival and had sent word via another staff member to alert Rachel thus. He hoped to meet her and introduce his contacts before proceeding too far into the social scene here.
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Rachel Milliner
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Rachel didn't waste time once she learned that Sir Andrew had arrived. She strode towards him and his companions with as much grace as one might expect from a woman not used to wearing heels. In other words, very carefully. Her manner was confident, warm, and professional as ever as she greeted the investor with a smile.

"Sir Andrew, good evening. It seems like only yesterday we were discussing building plans."

Although her attention was centered on Sir Andrew and his companions, one could still see the wheels turning behind her mossy green eyes. She was an expert multitasker, and always watching and listening out her peripherals to the last-minute touches her staff were making. After all, she prided herself on knowing everything that was going on in her place at all times. The main room was chic but comfortable, with an inviting warmth that was neither casual nor formal, but a relaxing place in the middle. Rachel had obsessively ironed out the details with interior designers and decorators, even sourcing art students from the University to contribute floor tiles.

In one corner was a small raised platform with a baby grand, the player she'd hired settling himself with a glass of pinot noir and an empty tip jar. He was dressed simply in a white button-down and slacks, lending further to the casual-chic atmosphere. Personally, Rachel envied him his outfit a little. Good as it looked on her, the dress and heels made her feel like a chicken that had been plucked and trussed.
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Peyton Pepper
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Peyton this evening.


As many had received word of the opening of a delicate new wine bar and restaurant in town there was sure to be expected a lot of people. While Peyton usually wasn't such a fan of such big events she did arrive pretty early to see what the fuss was about this place. Especially going alone to evening as this felt awkward. She had always been taught a young woman could not show up on her own. All these fixed dates by her parents to make sure she couldn't be seen alone had been so pathetic. But now she understood sort of what they meant. It felt so strange to be here. No one to talk to.

Her black high heels were clicking beneath her. A dark navy blue dress was wrapped around her curvaceous body. It hugged her close and tight as if it was painted upon her. Her lips had a dark red colour which made them pop up as if she was going to pout. The redhead looked like she could fit in easily but her demeanour was less confident than her kissable lips and swaying hips. Her shoulders were low and her greyish blue eyes were flying across the place. The venue was amazing. It had a warm and cosy feeling. While she looked around she played with the ring on her finger. Everything was finished picture perfect. It made her smile. Her index finger went up to her lips to brush them briefly before letting her fingers comb through her hair. Was someone going to lead them around or were they allowed to discover the place on their own? The man before her got greeted by a woman in a ravishing red dress. It suited her well.

Carefully Peyton passed them by so not to stand in their direct space as she didn't want to eavesdrop into the conversation. Meanwhile glancing around the dak room. This looked promising and would surely become a new hotspot in Detroit. Which might even get a frequent visit from the redhead as she liked a good wine every now and then.
Edited by Peyton Pepper, Jan 31 2015, 03:22 PM.
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Andrew Cutting
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"Ms Milliner, allow me to introduce you to Franciose Du-Claire; a good friend and colleague from Alabama." Andrew motioned to the beautiful Haitian woman politely and she smiled a soft but predatory smile which could only come from her nature as a Kindred. He then turned to the older man who stepped forward to politely kiss the back of Rachel's hand; he said nothing but he didn't need to he had a certain presence about him that spoke of mingled confidence and authority. "This is Henry R. Eden. A man of some considerable standing in Boston and one of my principle investors. He has quite particular tastes if you follow me, do your best to accommodate them would you kindly?" Andrew himself was polite and suave; it would seem that Mr Eden would require a little of Rachel's time ensuring his tastes were met in the Kindred lounge downstairs. For his part Andrew took Franciose gently by the hand and led her over to the table where the mayor was seated.
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Rachel Milliner
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Rachel gave her attention to each in turn, addressing Ms. Du-Claire first. "Ms. Du-Claire, it's a pleasure to have you with us." She caught the faint glint of something in the beautiful woman's eyes, like a lioness looking over a steak. Thankfully, Rachel wasn't planning on winding up on the menu. Besides, now that she'd had the Don's blood, she was technically spoken for.

The older gentleman kissed her hand lightly in a display of old-fashioned charm that made her smile. "Always a pleasure to meet a fellow Bostonian, Mr. Eden. If you would allow me to show you to our private lounge, we have some rare selections I think you'll enjoy." Rachel gently slipped her arm through Mr. Eden's, and led him past the two guards at the door, down a short flight of carpeted stairs. The lounge was laid out in tasteful modern furniture and decor, in shades of black, white, grey, and polished wood. A few racks of bottled wine and vitae alike were on display (neatly labeled of course, to avoid mishaps). Behind a small mahogany bar stood a distinguished-looking, middle-aged man in formal black attire. Carson had been a butler for decades before becoming a vampire, and now was Veritas' other sommelier.

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Rachel escorted Mr. Eden to a comfortable spot, but didn't move to sit herself. Much as she was curious about Sir Andrew's colleagues, she was still technically working, and had to keep things running smoothly tonight. But that wouldn't stop her from making sure her new clients were satisfied. "We have a particularly choice bottle from the Loire valley, which Carson assures me is excellent. Notes of lavender, spice, and honey. Should I have him pour you a sample?" Rachel's smile was genuine and warm. After all, she was pleased with the way things were going so far. Already she could detect the faint scent of lamb shank and mushroom risotto in the air, which meant the kitchen was running like a well-oiled machine. Above all, she wanted both her living and dead customers happy tonight.
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Andrew Cutting
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Eden seemed quite pleased with the respect he was shown, both by Andrew and his hostess; seeming quite content for Rachel to accompany him to the lounge downstairs he took his seat graciously and quickly took a look around, clearly enjoying his surroundings. "If you would be so kind, thank you Ms Miliner." His voice was crisp, yet comforting, somewhat like one a doting grandfather might use when addressing his favoured grandchildren, yet with none of the patronising tones that adults so often had for those younger than themselves. It was the kind of voice which could make literally anything sound calm and reasonable, no matter what it was; spoken in a true upper class Boston accent which made it clear he was a man of both excellent breeding and education. "But before I taste I should inquire as to the nature of the source; my digestion is rather selective unfortunately, something which has not improved with age I fear." He gave her a smile like clear honey and placed gentle pressure on the back of her hand with his as they parted, an old fashioned gesture of good faith from a time when a man was judged entirely upon his manner.



The mayor seemed quite well disposed to meeting with Du-Claire which made matters simpler for Andrew; he was hoping to convince the man to invest a relatively small sum of money in a business venture in Alabama which she would be heading and if he took well to her it made the whole process a lot easier. Naturally Du-Claire was as eager as the mayor seemed to be to discuss brass tacks and while she and Andrew took a seat she began discussing the latest political developments; though he doubted if Du-Claire really supported, much less cared about many of the causes which the mayor discussed she was rather excellent at playing the part of one who did. Clearly like himself Du-Claire was someone who kept abreast of current affairs to the degree that they could pass themselves off as a knowledgeable supporter of any side of the debate they needed to at the given moment. For his part the mayor seemed quite happy to go along with it; after all here was a beautiful and exotic woman with her Haitian Creole accent and Afro-Caribbean good looks, who also displayed the signs of both wealth and an excellent education. In short she was the ideal sort of person he liked to have lobbying for his favour since it was just as likely that come election time he would receive a small contribution towards his campaign.

For Andrew however there was little to do at this point but wait; he had enough respect and knowledge of Du-Claire to know that he could trust her to see to business without his input, after all it would be rude of him to openly try to micromanage her when they were technically equals - better not to sour the relationship. Besides, he had the mayor wrapped around his little finger and knew the man inside out, he didn't need to analyse him as he fell for the clever social manipulations played by his associate; after all he knew the playbook off by heart and had seen the mayor's reactions to most every tactic. So he took the time to look around the place as it was in the flesh. He'd seen the pictures and plans of course, but it was a different thing entirely to sit within a venue and experience it first hand, to drink in the vibrant conversation and the upper class atmosphere that remained unbroken throughout. The guests tonight were suitably wealthy and respectable, with the number of social climbers present well within acceptable proportions to the numbers of top dogs; he was pleased to see just how many important people he recognised, truly it had been a stroke of luck when Rachel had first approached him about opening this place.
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Rachel Milliner
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Rachel kind of liked Mr. Eden's comfortable, warm demeanor. Like a kind old grandfather, except this one could eat you. Mind you, she wasn't judging, but she was mindful of both who and what she was dealing with. And since she'd never gotten to meet her own grandpa, the girl was kind of regretting that she wouldn't be able to stay and converse with him longer. Also, his accent reminded her of Boston, and added to the feeling of nostalgia.

"Of course, Mr. Eden. Mr. Carson has more details on the donors, I believe." Rachel signaled Carson to pour a small sample glass of the vitae, but he was already doing so. No doubt he already knew precisely where the blood had come from, too. She liked that the old butler could anticipate needs at the drop of a pin. Made her own job so much easier. "Unfortunately, I should go check on things upstairs. But if there's anything else you require, please don't hesitate to ask." She returned his smile with a bright one of her own, and not the fake one she usually put on for customers. No, this one was genuine, and reached her eyes.

Leaving Mr. Eden in Carson's capable hands, Rachel made her way back up the steps to the main floor, thanking her lucky stars she didn't trip on the heels and faceplant. The pleasant experience with Mr. Eden gave her some confidence that the evening would be a success, and so she would her way through the seats and tables back towards the kitchen. Her head chef had things well in hand, she had no doubt, but there were a couple of green busboys and one prep cook that had been nervous all day. So she passed through the porthole-windowed double doors that led to the kitchen, into the heat and smells and glorious noise that made her feel instantly calm.

And that's when Rico, one of the new busboys, skidded to a halt with a bin full of clean plates, narrowly missing crashing into her. But a couple of the plates crashed to the floor and shattered in the process, which sent the poor guy into a stammering, sweating frenzy of picking up the pieces. Rachel smiled and took the bin from him, setting it on a nearby counter. "Come with me a sec," she said, leading him into the tiny hallway that opened into the locker area. Standing opposite him, she said, "Breathe and count. One, two three...One, two three." After a minute or two of the breathing exercise, Rachel patted him on the shoulder. "Do that anytime you get flustered, just slow down. Alright?"

Rico stared after her, flabbergasted but grateful that the boss hadn't fired him on the spot. Rachel went right on with her checks, shouting a few loving insults at the cookies behind the line while they whistled after her and called her Mamacita. She chuckled and shook her head, reluctantly sailing back out the double doors to the floor. In a perfect world, she would stay back there all the time. But tonight, she had to oversee everything and flounce around shaking hands and taking pictures.
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