Log Dump
Hellfire Clubhouse - Hidden Basement (#3409RC)
One by one (for the world should be thankful there aren't /two/ of each), the pieces comprising the White Court arrive, weaving their way through the tunnels of the Hellfire Clubhouse to the Hidden Basement (yes, I had to use capital letters). Minds of unfriendly pawns are masked to their presence, though electronic records will no doubt later reveal the activity. But for now, they assemble in relative anonymity. The White King and Queen arrive separately, taking their seats with the barest of polite exchanges and awaiting the settling of the room.
Sabitha is an early arrival. She prefers to watch as others enter, one by one, than to be watched. She stands along the wall of the room, with stick-straight posture and hands that twine loosely together in front of her. For her part, she's chosen businesswear. In white, of course, a skirted suit.
For this particular meeting, Travis has replaced his traditional black with a lighter shade of clothing, still closer to grey than white, but, hey, points for the effort. The cloak-and-dagger of the secret entrance isn't lost on him; in fact, it's rather amusing, and a smirk appears as he makes his way down the steps, disappearing as he approaches the room and enters. Not first, not last. He glances around the room, his eyes settling on Sabby, although he offers just a polite nod before crossing the room and settling into his seat.
Percy has a talent for sprawling languid across furniture with casual elegance that is almost feline, no matter the indignity inflicted on him by his chosen costume; court's finery is lounged in, after he drops into his bishop's chair, as effortlessly as though it were a business suit or, for that matter, a dressing gown. The younger Talhurst scion also sports a light tan. His legs crossed and attention on his manicured nails. Wholly, apparently: as of yet, he spares no eye contact for anybody.
While Tyanna is here on time, she's rarely early for anything. Dressed in loose black pants, a white sleeveless lace blouse, and boots, she heads into the room and starts for her chair. She nods politely first to the White King and Queen, then to Sabby before settling down. A glance is given the man in the bishop's chair, but her attention is now more focused on her hair, which is back to it's normal black with vibrant red streaks. Her eyes are also their normal bright red.
Once the rustling has quieted and the silence from the thrones has drawn most of the looks of the curious, Emma stands, flicking a glance to the winged gentleman at her side before tipping her chin up in arrogant stubbornness. "Thank you for attending. Most of you know each other from the normal Circle meetings, but I thought it was time that we showed each other all of our strengths and weaknesses" (Percy is tipped a bemused look) "since we are now facing increasing pressures from not only outside the Circle, but from within." The White Queen leans forward onto steepled fingers and pulls her gaze around the faces presented.
Sabitha barely looks at Travis as he enters and nods. Her eyes slide over him, past him, and onto the next person. Spending attention on Travis is, at the moment, entirely too tiring. Tyanna's nod is met with a bit more attention, a brief nod of her own, and then... there's Percy. Her eyes /do/ linger there, fixing tightly somewhere near the top of his head, while her expression remains entirely blank, outside of a tightness at the corners of eyes and lips. And then, finally, she looks at Emma, and her hands tighten together.
Percy cants his head slightly to one side, propped up on one hand. He smirks faintly at Emma in answer to her bemusement, a gleam in amber eyes. Shame? Thanks, but he'll pass. It might be noted that Sabitha's glance, more than that of any other, is studiously avoided.
Tyanna flashes a tiny smile as Emma starts talking, but she quickly composes her face into one of interest as she props her chin up on her hand, elbow resting on the arm of her chair. The new Knight gets a quick look, but no more as she refocuses on her Queen.
Travis notes Sabby's response, apparantly she's had more forewarning than he. Though he's should have expected asmuch as to see her here. For now, though, he lets his gaze circle the room, hovering just briefly on each occupant, recalling the faces he knows, making note of the ones he doesn't, and trying to fill in the pieces in between. Then his attention returns to Emma.
"So," Emma continues, nodding toward the few Pawns standing at attention along the wall. A name, and the services offered, and another, and then "Alison Pellegrani, the computer savant responsible for the MRA database. We've been able to retrieve 43 viable names for our purposes." A small pause to allow Mouse to make her acknowledging gesture, and Emma's eye's slide to Sabitha, holding on her measuringly. "Sabitha Melcross. Our contact within Senator Williams office." And then she moves on. Williams. Not Shaw. "There have been additions to our ranked pieces as well. Tessa Lesair has realigned herself with the White King as his knight, and I've taken on Travis Reed's services in that capacity for myself."
Sabitha remains where she is, silent, steadfast, tense, and watching Emma. Her own gaze stays firmly away from any other familiar faces. Not so much as a glance at Travis upon his introduction, or a nod to the others at her own.
Percy's glance flicks from face to face as introductions are made. Including Sabitha's, eyes drawn inexorably for a moment as her name is spoken, but it is not long before they slide on to Tessa and then Travis.
Tyanna's gaze flicks over Mouse, and Sabby once again. The other Pawns get a sparing glance, and then her gaze settles on Tessa for a moment, flashing her a small grin, and then she has an opportunity to get a better look at Travis.
Travis gives a nod around the table as his name is introduced. Not that it's really necessary--most people probably know which are the newer faces, but then he's not entirely in the passive mode, noting in particular the mention of the other Knight, letting his gaze linger there a moment longer. Important bit to note.
The rest of the positions are named off, including, "Tyanna Fiske, Rook. She resides at the Sigma Iota Nu mansion, and oversees the training of my students." Most there have an inkling of the existence and function of the Hellions. "And Percy Talhurst, of Geotal. Bishop. He will coordinate all information brought into the Court unless arrangements have been made to report to me directly." Another pause and glance to Warren, who tips his head and waves her on. Emma straightens and inhales slowly, looking down at the desk in front of her as she spins out, "I have begun to fear as of late that Sebastian's judgment is once again showing signs of... erraticness. You will recall that this was a reason for his initial...enforced sabbatical." Blue eyes flick up and bore into various members of the court. "He has introduced a viper into our midst, and instilled her as Black Queen. Jean Grey. Noted activist and incorrigible do gooder."
And now Sabby /does/ look at Percy again, long and hard and with a quiet twist of a humorless smile curling at her lips. Don't worry about Percy Talhurt, indeed. Her gaze lingers there for a moment, even once Emma's moved on, although new bits of information are tucked away with what might be interest, or possibly shock, if she had room left for either.
On being identified, Percy waggles the fingers of one hand - the one not being used as a prop for his head - in an idle imitation of a wave. On hearing the news of the Black Queen's appointment, dark brows arch, eyes steady as they rest on the White Queen.
Tyanna arches an eyebrow at the mention of Jean Grey. While discipline does keep her from jumping up or shouting 'what??', whoever is sitting next to her will notice a rise in the room's temperature before she gets hold of herself. The hand under her chin tightens, and she has to take a deep breath and force it loose.
For all the response in the room, Travis doesn't seem to react to the mention of Jean. For him, there's little change in /that/ interaction. It's always been Emma vs. Jean. Only now in a more official capacity. The others' reactions, though, say quite a bit in their silence, and he neatly files that away.
"If you do not understand the implications, allow me to spell them out." Emma edges out from her chair and around the corner of the desk. "Jean Grey is closely linked with Xavier's group of self-righteous, law-abiding interlopers. They are not the type to be bought and sold, or intimidated easily." Emma should know. She dated one for a year. -.- "And Sebastian has now waltzed her into the Monarch's role. He is playing a game, and he just made it that much more dangerous for us. We are going to have to find out /what/ that game /is/, and neutralize the threat before we can move on to final stages of production on the prototypes." Well, the older members of the Court know what she's talking about.
Sabitha is not, we might note, an older member, and confusion finds its way onto her face before she sweeps it away again. Her hands shift, smoothing down over her skirt and then sliding behind her back to touch the wall behind her, seeking the bracing comfort of the solid surface.
Percy lets his hand drop from his cheek, lacing his fingers together to steeple two in front of his mouth, though he remains poised for listening.
Tyanna smirks a little at the description of Xavier's people. She lived with them long enough to know that it's all true. She shifts position just a little, leaning back in her chair and letting her arm fall along the armrest. Her gaze sweeps the room, but doesn't linger on anyone before it returns to Emma.
Prototypes. Well, Travis hasn't been around long enough to know, so he awaits further explanation with a mental note to investigate. For now, it's just absorbing information. Maybe later, he'll have something to contribute, but at the moment, he's still feeling the meeting and its attendees out.
Emma drums her fingers on the desktop at her side and monitors the thoughts of the various members, noting hesitations and eagerness alike. "You are all capable, and I do not need to tell you how to be of most benefit. Bring us information, brings us ideas, bring us your resources. We do not intend on letting foolish and petty bickering bring about the Circle's downfall, but we need your support to ensure our anonymity. Now. Is there any other business?"
Sabitha is silent. And, one might suppose, from the twitch of fingers against the wall behind her back and the quiet reshuffling of her weight, anxious to leave.
Percy shakes his head slowly, aware that any facetious suggestion that they all adjourn to the nearest karaoke bar would not be worth the resultant getting smacked around.
Tyanna gives a brief shake of her head, unable to think of anything. Settling even farther back in her chair might indicate she's going to stick around, though.
Travis sits motionless in his chair, watching the others' responses. It's no hard trick to see who leads the meetings, although he'll have to check up to see if they are typically more dialog or dictation. After a moment, he too offers a headshake of declining.
We thought Percy /liked/ getting smacked around. ;) When no one shows any signs of speaking, Emma nods her dismissal, stopping "Percy. Travis. A moment please," as the group stirs and files out.
Context, darling. It's all about /context/. Percy, as addressed, stays sprawled in his chair, lifting his head; his glance is lit with curiosity.
Sabitha glances briefly at the pair, and then takes her leave with quick, sharp steps that don't hesitate in the least.
Travis nods toward Emma, not changing position other than a glance toward the door as the room begins to empty, watching the various occupants take their exit.
Emma scoots back onto the desk top, facing the pair she'd called out, and ignoring Warren's watchful eyes on her back, as well as Tyanna's continued presence. It is an assumption she doesn't particularly mind. "How much additional information do you have on those on the list?" she begins without preamble, addressing Travis.
"That would depend on the individuals," Travis replies. "Oddly enough, there's a few that are entirely clean, despite their recent associations. And a few of the recent additions that are not as casual as it appears; at least if their investment histories of the past three years are any indicator."
Percy continues to watch in silence, thumb's brush thoughtful against his lower lip. Perhaps this date should be marked on the calendar.
Tyanna sticks around mostly for the fact that she needs to have a word with Emma than anything else, wrapping a red lock of hair around one finger. One must maintain the image of the ever watchful bodyguard.
Emma nods, eyes focused and bright in the intensity of her thoughts. "Fine. There are a few more names I want you to add to that list. Ryan Bach, attorney, working for Stagram & Wolf. And, obviously, Jean Grey. /She/ is your top priority. I want to know what the hell she's doing in Sebastian's pocket, even if she claims to not be in his bed. Turn whatever information you find out on the others over to Percy. Percy, pet, you /do/ look enchanting."
"Ryan /Bach/?" Percy asks, sitting up abruptly straight, eyes widening. "I live to entertain you, my Queen. What's this about Bach, now?"
Travis gives a brief nod toward toward Percy, eyes widening slightly a touch at his response. "Is there something I should know in advance of this Ryan Bach?" he queries, open-ended, glancing between the two.
Emma slides her attention to Percy. "I'm not sure. Percival? You know this Bach? Oh, by the way, Travis, dear. He's a mutant. Telepathic and empathic suppression, at the very least. Scared the hell out of me. Return the favor please?"
Percy stares at Emma for a moment and then lets out a hooting laugh. "My God, really? Fuck me sideways," he snorts into more laughter, springing out of his chair to straighten his period costume with absent fingers, "I only tried to shag the bastard about five /hundred/ times at school -- if I'd've had that angle ... well, never mind."
"Consider it done," Travis nods toward Emma. At Percy's response, even Travis can't suppress a bemused smile from crossing his face. "Are you looking for information on the firm itself, or merely the employee?" he asks, turning his attention back to Emma.
"The employee mostly, but you know the drill. If you come across something interesting..." Emma replies, her attention still focused on Percy. Her head tips to the side, her eyes narrowing as she actually parses Percy-speak down into "/Why/? Thrill of the chase, one that got away, and all that?"
Percy blinks at her as though this question is completely puzzling. "Well," he says slowly, "at first it was delicious fun flustering him, and /then/ ... it kind of snowballed from there, poor harassed darling." He sighs wistfully, mouth curved into a slight smirk. "Ran into him not that long ago, actually. Didn't try and shag him. There's only so much disappointment a man can /take/, you know."
Travis just sits back, listening through this vein of conversation. Personalities are everything in this business.
Emma's eyes twitch thoughtfully, but thankfully, she doesn't voice the thought that affected them so. "What are your impressions of him, then? Travis has a list of people that I'd like you to review with him. I want your opinions of the ones you know, and I want you to meet the ones you don't." She stops and slides off to amble close to the two men. "You'll do that for me, won't you pet?" she purrs, giving Percy a familiar and practiced empathic ear scratch.
Percy arches his eyebrows at her, amusement reflected in the amber eyes. "Of course," he answers, head tilting ever-so-slightly. "At Travis's convenience, of course." He cants a sideways appraising look at the Queen's Knight. "My impressions of Ryan," he murmurs. "God, I don't know. Quiet. Clever. Mastered the art of speaking without saying anything. And as aforementioned, extremely difficult to pull." The wry grin flashes across Percy's tanned face.
"Perhaps later today or this week, failing that," Travis nods. "I tend not to carry my notes around on my person, for obvious reasons." He pauses a moment. "I'm sure you'll have insights as to his habits. I'll be glad to glean from them. His position within his firm?" he says, glancing back toward Emma. "Does he carry much influence there?"
Emma glances over to Travis and shifts to shrug. "I don't know. I just know Sebastian is involved with him, and the current turn of events makes me... twitchy. Tyanna," she lists her voice to call the Rooks attention. "You have a Black counterpart, did you know. Sal Harper."
Tyanna looks up from her seemingly inattentive state at the sound of her name. There's a quick nod. "So I've been told. I haven't had the chance to meet her yet, though it surprises me that Shaw would take a woman as his Rook."
Percy nods to Travis in response. "Excellent. We'll be in touch, then." He covers the side of his face with one hand, smiling slightly. "Ah. Ms. Harper," he says dryly. "So delightful." Isn't he pleasantly full of editorials today?
Travis slips back into listening mode, now that that is done. Much to be learned about the opposite players still, despite the investigations.
"He has little problem with women as subordinates," Emma growls quietly, shooting a querying look at Percy. Just how much interaction has Percy had with the opposite court? Clearly, she needs a debrief. Among other things. But this conversation is brought to a close by the rise of the White King from his throne. "I want a summarization of your joint conclusions by Wednesday," Emma finalizes, straightening herself and offering the pair a heavy-lidded smile. She turns to follow Warren from the room, a hand reaching out to summon Tyanna to her side.
Tyanna rises gracefully from her seat, her face virtually expressionless. Sliding around the table, she joins Emma on the opposite side, holding the door open for her and motioning for a Pawn on the other side to keep it open until the room is empty.
"Well, that leaves us," Travis says, nodding toward Percy. "Is your schedule free this evening? We can compare notes. Perhaps over dinner or drinks, once we've had some time to regroup?"
Percy nods. "Very well," Percy answers, nodding back with a rueful smile as he adds, "This evening works well. I just need a nap while I continue to readjust from Damascus time. Shall we say, around seven o'clock?"
Emma steps through a portal that emerges in mid-air before her.
"Seven it is, then," Travis says, pushing his chair back from the table. "Be thinking of restaurants then. I'm not picky, so long as it's quiet quiet and we can talk undisturbed." With that, he heads through the door, barely glancing at the pawn holding it.
"Brushing his conscious thoughts aside gently, Emma inserts a request swathed in heavy layers of desire. << Do stop by before you leave, if you have the time. I would adore another demonstration. >>"
Percy enters the previously determined restaurant at a brisk stride; all briskness and high energy compacted into a navy blue suit and expensive shoes, running on too much caffeine and not enough sleep. The place is quiet and classy, with a fancy bar, at which he perches now to order a soda for yet another dose of caffeine. Best to be as efficient as possible for this meeting, after all.
Travis slips into the restaurant, glancing around, slightly disappointed to find the other already there. He slips his name to the maitre'd, and after a few motions toward the bar, he makes his way over, slipping into seat next to Percy. "Good evening, Mr. Talhurst," he says, motioning the bartender over and pointing toward one of the bottles on the far wall.
Percy shifts on the bar-stool to award the Queen's Knight his full attention, amused appraisal in the lingering glance that he awards him. "Good evening to you too, Mr. Reed." He flashes a brief, wry grin, and adds in a tone that suggests great personal suffering, "I'll have you know that I abandoned a gorgeous girl in full harem getup to make this meeting."
"I try to limit mixing business and pleasure," Travis shrugs. "Else I'd have said to bring her along." His drink arrives, and he sips at the tumble a moment. "We could just go for appetizers or even drinks, though, if you think you could recapture the moment," he adds wryly.
"Nah," Percy says, shaking his head. "The poor darling could use the rest, no matter how welcome my attentions. Besides, I'm here now. Might as well make the best of it." He awards Travis a playful smirk around the straw in his dark liquid as he takes a sip, following this with, "Ever worn veils?"
"Well, hile I may not have the feminine charms down, I have been told my company can be enjoyable--at least on a few rare occasions," Travis smirks over his glass. "Veils?"
Percy grins back at him. "Well, you know, just checking," he says cheerfully. "I've been known to prove susceptible to the, ah, masculine charms as well, really." Not that the conversation of the White Court about one Ryan Bach left much doubt in that area, really. The expression Percy wears is not /quite/ a leer, no matter how much Travis may deserve one. "But I think we have business to attend to, first of all."
"Ah yes," Travis nods. "Business. Indeed we do. So ... Ryan Bach, shall we start there?" he asks, voice lowering as the maitre'd approaches. Taking his drink, he slips off the stool, giving the man a nod, then turning back to Percy. "Other than his apparant, ah, asexuality, is there anything you can tell me of his school days?"
Percy's mouth twists into a rueful expression. "Mmm." He sips his drink. "I'm afraid that I was rather fixated on the sex thing at the time. Blighter owes me a geometric proof about platypi and penguins if I remember rightly." He draws a thoughtful thumb over his lower lip before adding, "He used to hang about with Dick Kennedy, though. Quiet sort. Would hardly have remembered him if he'd've just shagged me the first time and got it over with, probably."
"Do you have your yearbooks I might look at sometime?" Travis asks abruptly. Because there has to be some logical connection, regardless of whether or not he spells it out. "Water to start. And the wine list...."
Percy nods. "All my things from Oxford and Eton are in boxes under my bed. I'll send them to you," he says, something of the sprawl to his seated posture at their table as he lazily affirms Travis's request for water and wine list with a nod.
"Much appreciated," Travis says, as he unfolds his napkin into his lap. He unzips his jacket, sliding a manila folder across the table. "These are the names I thought we would discuss tonight, namely because they are the ones I've discovered some support for our 'cause,'" he trails off, letting a bit of irony creep into the term. "Jack Daniels. Other than the fact that the poor man's parents should have been shot, he leaves little cause for sympathy. Has absorbed three local businesses in the last month, and after severing their employees for redundancy, dropped their client save for a handful. There's a bit of financial blackmail involved now, although I've got some ways to go to discover the reasons behind the selected targets. Red or White," he asks, flipping open the proffered menu, then shooing the busboy away.
First things first. "Something red, I think," Percy says, frowning down at the folder as he draws light fingers over it. "Hmm. Efficient enough, I suppose ... And blackmailing people, too, you say. What a monumentally /pleasant/ sort."
"Well, in this case, I'm certain the psychologists would accedit it to his parentage," Travis comments, finger sliding down the list. "In this case, I might be inclined to agree with them. Australian sounds nice tonight, hmm? I hear their steak is good as well."
Percy snorts delicately. "There's only so much you can get away with, from having a silly name. Take it from a man whose thoughtful parents dubbed him /Percival Randolph/ ... steak, I think," he adds, with a decisive air.
"Percival has a certain ring to it," Travis shrugs. He beckons their waiter, reading off the selection for the wine, then proceeding with his order. "Medium-rare, for me," he says, snapping the menus shut and handing them over.
"Medium-rare for me as well. And a naked baked potato with butter on the side, please," Percy says, not an eyelash batted nor a bad joke offered about nude potatoes and recreational butter usage, because he's on his best behavior. For the moment. "It doesn't make for bad opera, I'll give it that much," he adds to Travis, amber eyes lit with mild amusement. "You have a good, solid, decent name, yourself. One a man could make whatever he wanted of, I suspect."
Travis lifts an eyebrow at that, allowing a slight smirk at whatever private joke he might be thinking of. "There is much in a name," is all he finally concludes. "It's a name I've made use of, I'll admit."
Percy cocks an amused eyebrow in response, taking an idle swig of water. "I'm sure you have. So ... dear Mr. Daniels' surely exorbitant psychotherapy bills aside ..." He draws an idle finger down the list of names Travis has assembled, smiling slightly at one or two if only for the scansion. "Have you any other favorites?"
"Whichever one I'm working on at the moment would probably be the proper answer," Travis notes, waiting as the waiter pours the wine for him to taste. A quick nod, and the glass is filled. "You might check out Mrs. Johnson on the third page. Her bridge circle would certainly be aghast if they knew about /those/ investments."
Percy flips obediently to the third page and runs a finger over the text, brows arching and mouth curving into a smirk as he processes the information. "My /word/, what a naughty girl. Coal in her stockings come Christmas, to be certain."
"That could probably be arranged," Travis says, sipping at his wine before setting it back on the table. "I have a few items on the big red guy, so he's in my pocket now."
Percy flashes Travis a bright grin. "Oh, /excellent/," he answers, eyes gleaming. "You are positively delicious, Mr. Reed."
"You be careful now," Travis smirks. "Or those compliments might go straight to my head. Decent enough wine," he says, sipping at it again. "So tell me about yourself, then. You're on Page Four, by the way," he adds, humor slipping through, as there is no Page Four.
"Who, me?" Percy answers, the cherubic flutter of dark lashes coupled with the splay of innocent fingers across his chest. "Let's see. I'm a self-proclaimed sybaritic sex fiend and accomplished linguist. How about you?"
"Ah, yes, but I'm looking for more than what I could find in a 45-second Google Search, my dear Percival," Travis quips. "But for me, I'm an information dealer, or at least that's my preference. Gather from the careless, sell to the rich. Though, other jobs befall me on occasion, particlarly in recent days."
Percy chuckles softly. "But wouldn't giving you more than Google could number me as one of the careless? Not that I've ever particularly minded /that/ classification, come to think of it. I'm better with specific questions, I'm afraid." He cants his head slightly to one side, regarding Travis curiously. "Good work if you can get it, I imagine."
"Ah, you're quick. I like you already. I'll have to do the grill then," Travis nods. "Work is work, though. It pays, well these days, so it's hard to complain." He glances up as their steaks appear, giving a quick nod as it is set in front of him.
Percy's grin is broad and amused, amber eyes gleaming appreciatively beneath the sly dip of dark lashes, even as steak-knife and fork are wielded with a certain vigor. "I get paid quite a bit and complain a great deal more, but I suppose it's just a sign of my weakness of character," he confides cheerfully.
Travis lifts his own knife and fork, hovering over the steak a moment. "Well then, Mr. Talhurst, here's to a very long and productive relationship."