[ scene ] the town bishop is an extortionist

[damnmartyr]

Ida isn't thrilled about this meeting, but it's been put off long enough. Part of her would have preferred meeting at the man's home, so that she could inspect every corner and atmosphere and pick it apart and judge him by it, see his other children, see evidence of this matriarch

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[thestormineed]

He's not; Lo's right, her new father does look rather like a hitman. Director Aloysius Martel stands easily three inches over six foot, all in colours a little too dark to pick out at a casual glance and a long coat. His hair is the most quickly defining feature; long, and stark white. It's in a french plait presently (something he tolerated Lo insisting on letting her do, though search him for why), and has a tendency to catch the light.

He's just got off his cell, looks like, and crosses to meet her when he catches a glimpse (Lo has pictures). Martel moves like somebody who has never been harmless, will never seem harmless, but operates with a veneer of polished civility that's deeply ingrained. "Miss Wingates - Aloysius Martel." American, traces of something else, low.

[damnmartyr]

She doesn't look surprised, merely raising her eyebrows in a mild, if polite, expression.

"Mr. Martel," she returns, offering her hand - not quite girly but not trying to mimic some kind of masculine posturing, either. She doesn't exude anything, at the moment - she's thin, but not tiny, beautiful but not fragile, strong but not dangerous.

For the moment she simply is.

[thestormineed]

"Martel is fine." He's long since grown out of his dislike for his given name, but he's been going by his surname alone since he was much younger than she is. His handshake is politely firm; he's strong (he looks it) without apparently feeling an immediate need to be obnoxious.

Introductions made, Martel's come to this cafe often enough to have a usual table and a server who already knows what he'll want, so he'll offer her a seat first and shrug off his coat. (He picked up all sorts of interesting habits when his work more directly involved the nexus. He misses that time, some days.)

[damnmartyr]

Because her jacket is serving as more of a dress than anything she doesn't take hers off, but sits down a bit primly and orders a coffee and a scone. It's early still in Gotham.

"I'm sorry for the lateness of this meeting," she says. "I'm afraid I still don't know exactly how Lourdes met you all."

She's not sorry, and she's not afraid at all, but Martel will... probably pick up on that, hi.