Realistic or Modern Summoning Trouble [Closed]

[Fable]

Tarmagon
(Sorry for the crazy long delay!)

Esme continued to look at Kyle as he answered her question, though he mentioned he had hoped to avoid the topic. She undid the the braid slowly to avoid causing any odd tangles from the effort. When he mentioned he had name dropped Alexei Mikhailov she frowned slightly. While it was stupid to have their seats spilt up because some other group was being catered too, dropping the name of someone in the mafia was just something that called for trouble.

"I don't want to lecture you or anything," Esme said with some hesitance when he returned from changing his clothes. "That's probably something you shouldn't do. Y'know, name drop someone in the mafia. We don't know anything about the guy Alexei Mikhailov, his temperament, personality, and if he's going to consider your usage of his name as a 'favor' which you're going to owe him for."

A soft sigh escaped her as she flopped back down on the bed to stare up at the tall ceiling of the suite. "There's clearly a cost to invoking the mafia. Pretty clear with having to order an expensive flowers to just set up a meeting. Just, don't do something like that again, promise?" She was asking him to promise to not utilize the mafia in such a way out of concern for him. She wasn't sure if Kyle would owe something for using the man's name and she'd rather not risk increasing any possible 'debt' in using such a tactic.

"A social climber wouldn't have ruined anything. Hell, you should have let me talk to him. I'm sure my sailor's mouth would have gone over really well in scaring him into submission. You wouldn't believe a little acting can do. Liz once got into some celebrity party on words, body language, and some creative lying alone. She tried to get me to go with her and even called me after she got into the party to gloat. Of course that got her kicked out cause she was loud and someone overheard her."

Esme turned he head to glance back over at Kyle. "I'm done lecturing now and I don't want to spend the rest of the evening brooding." She got up and finally went to go change into her casual sleeping clothes, just a tank top with sleeping pants. She was careful with the dress, still anxious about spending so much money, enough money that could have gotten her out of financial debt due to school loans.

After washing her face she returned to the main area. It was late, but she wasn't exactly tired right now. "Want to watch a movie?" she asked as she made her way over to the couch in the room that sat before a large flatscreen TV. She wasn't sure they'd find something in English as she grabbed the remove and experimentally pushed buttons trying to figure things out. Apparently she could order movies in English at least which is what she planned to do.

Purely out of ironic humor she selected The Godfather. It wasn't exactly a top movie for her, in fact she barely had ever watched even the first one. "This should be interesting," she commented with a smirk as she sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to her.

 

[Tarmagon]

Kyle kept his face carefully neutral as Esme delivered her mild rebuke to his handling of the situation at the Ballet. This was her world, and her quest, and he would do his best to support it. He rather doubted that the ambitious leech would have been easily swayed by Esme's command of invective, for he had seen the man's like on his own world. They relished the petty power that they did have, and getting upset with them tended to gratify them far, far more than it made them capitulate. He said none of that however, merely nodding as Esme finished.

"It shall be as you say," he said, moving to the couch and settling down. He was amazed and gratified when Esme chose to lean against him once she had started the movie. "And while I am a bit tired from the day, I'll should be able to survive a movie with your company."

Kyle was a bit confused by Esme's choice of movie, though the information he had absorbed let him know that it was supposed to be about a supposedly fictional group similar to the ones they were about to meet with. What he hadn't counted on was the way in which the movie started to disturb him. This was far too close to what he was all too familiar with, and as the movie progressed, he found himself getting more and more uncomfortable with the movie. Finally, he had to reach out and hit the 'pause' button.

"Esme," he said carefully, "Could we perhaps find another movie to watch? This one is reminding me very forcibly of the machinations of the Court back home. I'll finish it with you if you wish, but I am not enjoying it."

There was no response, and Kyle looked down, concern on his face that quickly transformed into a tender smile. Esme was still leaning into his shoulder, but she was fast asleep. He had been so disturbed by the movie that he hadn't felt the slight increase in pressure as she had fallen asleep. Moving slowly, he switched off the TV using the remote, then turned towards Esme, bring careful to support her. One arm went around her shoulders, and he slipped the other under her legs as gently as he could. Once he was certain of his grip, Kyle stood smoothly, lifting Esme and cradling her to his chest. She made a soft sound of protest, but she didn't wake, and Kyle walked slowly to the bed, moving as though he carried the most precious treasure of the entire world in his arms.

"Rest now ashke," he whispered as he moved. "Stars light your dreams."

When he arrived at the bed, Kyle discovered that it was impossible to turn down the covers without use of his hands, so he tapped the barest trickle of his Power to pull back the comforter and sheet. Sighing in relief as Esme remained asleep, Kyle went to one knee, lowering Esme into the embrace of the bed. She immediately turned, twisting into a posture that still bemused Kyle. How could she sleep like that? Shaking his head, Kyle carefully pulled the covers up over Esme's shoulders, tucking her in. He looked at the couch, then remembered Esme's declaration. No wall, no couch. Taking a deep breath, Kyle moved about the room, turning off the lights, then moved to his side of the bed.

As Kyle moved to pull down the covers on his side, he glanced at Esme and felt his throat constrict as his heart raced. Her hair had spread, framing Esme's face with a gentle warmth. Her features, relaxed in sleep, had none of the worry that seemed to weigh on her more and more with each passing day. Kyle reached out, his hand moving in a caress that never actually touched that beautiful face, but still traced its every line.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. "I live for the day that I might tell you this and you believe me without doubt."

Kyle leaned forward, brushing a feather light kiss on Esme's forehead, then settling into bed a chaste distance away. Turning out the light he composed himself for sleep, keenly aware of Esme's presence, and her trust in him. He would be worthy. As sleep claimed him, Kyle's body betrayed him, one hand drifting to Esme's own outflung hand, the fingertips just barely twining with hers. Before he could recall the traitorous hand, sleep bore him away, into a land of dreams filled with love and laughter and totally devoid of any dark undertones.

Fable (Virtuous demon is trying, but he just had to hold her hand.)

 

[Fable]

Tarmagon
(Got coffee, will write.)

The morning inevitably arrived and the sun filtered through the small gaps where the curtains couldn't block the growing light the room naturally increased in light as well. The pitch darkness of the room gave way to the glow of the sun. It wasn't enough to disturb Esme from her slumber though. She was a nocturnal creature thanks to working at a bar and was more inclined to sleep despite the change in luminescence.

Eventually Esme's internal alarm clock went off and her mind starting registering the waking world around her. She frowned to herself wanting to sleep a bit longer as she was warm and comfortable in the bed. Each second that ticked by though she was more awake and after a solid thirty seconds she stopped resisting the pull to wakefulness. She let out a small yawn and began to stretch out her limbs, only one of her hands was entangled in something warm.

A quick experimental squeeze confirmed that she was grasping a hand and it wasn't her own. Her eyes snapped opened and her cheeks burned as she realized she was holding Kyle's hand. Her mind whirled trying to pieces things together. She didn't remember crawling into bed which most likely meant Esme had fallen asleep during the movie. When she had dozed off she hadn't a clue, she remembered the movie certain point and then things got muddled.

She swallowed nervously. It wasn't that she disliked holding Kyle's hand. It was warm and actually comforting. The problem was she really, really need to listen to her bladder now that she was fully awake and how to extract herself from his grasp without waking him. Very slowly and gently she first released her grasp on his hand and then slowly pulled her hand free of his and prayed she didn't disrupt his sleep.

Esme even went as far as to hold her breath during the process, though such a thing was ultimately silly. It took a minute or two to extract her hand and once down she carefully slid out of bed and tip toed to the bathroom. She finished her business there and also quickly brushed her teeth since she was already up. Before she ventured back into the main area though she debated on what to do; order breakfast and get on with the day or curl up back in bed with Kyle.

While she was more inclined to just go back to bed, she'd end up just laying there awake awkwardly not know what to do with herself and probably staring at Kyle. Breakfast then. She crept out of the bathroom and went to get the hotel menu. Using the phone to order the food would probably wake up Kyle, but she had to at least try. She tried not to talk too loudly when she ordered the food for them, but she couldn't exactly whisper otherwise they'd either not hear her of misunderstand her.

Kyle drifted along, not quite awake, not quite asleep, just existing. He was aware of the touch of Esme’s fingers, of the warmth that filled him from that tenuous contact, so he was immediately aware when she began to stir. He wanted to cling as she began to extract her hand, but he reluctantly allowed Esme to reclaim her hand. He started to drift closer and closer to wakefulness, as the sounds of Esme taking care of her morning needs pulled on him. Finally, as Esme ordered breakfast, Kyle completed his trip to wakefulness.

“Good morning ashke,” he said as Esme finished her order. “How did you sleep?”

Esme's eyes glanced over at Kyle as he spoke. "S-Sorry if I woke you," she quickly apologized, for some reason feeling flustered. "I slept fine, though I'm going to guess I fell asleep during the movie and you had to carry... me to bed." She was more embarrassed about falling asleep than having to be carried to the bed, though imagining Kyle carrying her flustered here and her hand was reminded of the warmth of being on contact with his.

"I ordered breakfast," she changed the subject.

“It was no trouble ashke,” Kyle replied with a slow smile. “I wasn’t a huge fan of the movie, so ending it early to tuck you in was no burden at all. If you’ll pardon me while I attend to the morning’s needs, we can enjoy your breakfast choices together.”

"I don't like that movie much myself, obviously," she tried to joke. Esme didn't comment further as Kyle went to tend to his needs which during that time breakfast was delivered to the room and set upon the small table intended for dining. Her eyes drifted over to the flowers and she remember today was the day they went to a mafia hosted party. She wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting. If they would just ask for more money or if she had to answer questions where if she answered incorrectly they'd find themselves in deep trouble.

Esme let out a sigh as she tried to shake her worrisome thoughts. She told herself it was too late to back out now. It would be more troublesome to try and back out and perhaps even insulting to do so the day of. So she sat down at the table and made herself eat even as her stomach clenched anxiously with nerves.

Kyle joined Esme at the table, helping himself from the selection she had ordered. He couldn't help but notice the look she cast at the flowers, or the apparent nerves as she ate with no evidence of enjoying the meal.

"Ashke," he said quietly, "We have chosen this path, and I am beside you. If you wouldn't mind staying in today, I have an idea for some protections for us that won't require our constant attention to maintain. And after we work that out... maybe just sit together?"

"Actually, " Kyle said with a smile, "That is what I have in mind, at least to an extent. After all, there are limits to all things, even magic."

Kyle set to work on enhancing their clothing to function like protective kevlar. Esme mostly took on the role of a 'magic student' since she wasn't exactly sure if she'd be able to guarantee her efforts to making her dress for that evening altered properly. She mostly experimented on her casual clothes and left their outfits for the party in Kyle's experienced hands. She wasn't exactly sure how kevlar worked so another part of her day she spent reading things like Wikipedia to get an idea.

While the changes would allow them more protection, it wasn't flawless. Wherever the enchanted fabric wasn't covering was exposed and vulnerable, but the same could be said of anyone just wearing a kevlar vest. So at least if anyone tried to shoot them they'd probably go for the chest rather than the head. The fact that Esme had to think of such things disturbed her as months ago she was just worried about getting her essays completed on time and having the money to pay for school and to support herself.

During this Esme also went ahead and preemptively packed her things. Just in case. If something went wrong at the party it was best to be prepared. Though really thinking about it, if something went wrong could they even return to their hotel room to grab their things? Well, it was still better to pack if they did have a chance to come grab their stuff, at least that is what Esme told herself. There was only some much someone in this situation could plan for after all.

Time passed and soon it was time to start getting ready for the party itself. Esme decided to go with the classic KISS advice; keep it simple stupid. She didn't do much with her hair other than make sure it was tangle free. She'd never been one for makeup outside of the basics - foundation, eyeliner, massacre - so she didn't do too much to alter this approach to her makeup for the evening. She went with a go-to smokey eye-shadow; one she'd worn plenty of times when working at the bar. Even her dress for this party was kept simple, though there was something a bit more daring in the one that had been chosen for this evening.

While she'd opted for a black dress in hopes of just being able to blend in a bit - as ca black dress was a classic fashion piece - the front of the neckline was fairly low. Not so low as to exposed her vertically from neck to navel, but in a low cut that wasn't something she'd normally wear. It was still fairly modest in other ways, such as a long loose skirt and sleeves. She kept the simple black heels low too since the last thing she wanted was to stumble on her own feet.

Spoiler: dress

"Bond villainess 2.0," Esme joked at she stepped out of the bathroom.

 

[Tarmagon]

Kyle was pleased when Esme accepted his suggestion that they remain in for the day so he could work on some protections for them. The concept of 'Kevlar' had caught his attention, and he was fairly certain that he could replicate the effect in any type of clothing so long as there was enough surface area to spread the impact. So, after eating a hearty breakfast, worrying the whole while about Esme, Kyle set to work. Esme watched, noting the subtle changes he made to the cloth, even going so far as to work at replicating the effect in her casual outfits. Kyle looked over the changes she made, nodding.

"You picked up on the idea quite well," he said with a smile. "And so long as you have a 'coin' in your 'magic purse', you won't have to pay attention to keep the spell running. It will only really take Power when it's deflecting a strike."

While Esme had been working on her everyday clothes, Kyle had imbued their wardrobe for the evening with the same effect, taking time to make the outfits stab resistant as well. He noted that Esme took the time to pack up her suitcases before going to change into her evening attire, so he took a moment to do the same. He didn't like the idea of just anyone coming and messing with their belongings, so after careful consideration, he placed several Wards over their combined luggage. If anyone messed with it, he and Esme would know immediately, and would have the option to allow what was happening, or to trigger the more active portions of the Wards. In deference to Esme's sensibilities, he limited the active Wards to a stunning blast, or as the ultimate last resort, a spell that would completely immolate all of their luggage, leaving the would be thief with nothing save a pile of ashes. Just as he finished his work, Esme emerged from the bathroom, wearing a black dress, simple makeup, and sensible shoes should they have to move quickly.


"Bond villainess 2.0," Esme joked.

"Beautiful villainess perhaps," Kyle said, smiling warmly. "Give me a few minutes to change into my 'Trusted Lieutenant's' uniform my Lady."

Kyle grabbed the clothing he had prepared, slipping into the bathroom to change. He had noticed the outfit in one of the ubiquitous fashion magazines that seemed to adorn every horizontal surface of the hotel, and decided he liked it. He didn't feel like he was in a noose wearing the 'mandarin collared' suit. Also, the large buttons down the front made perfect places to conceal fully charged moonstones, giving Kyle a rather significant reserve of energy should he need it. He had decided to add the cane that he had carried to the Gala to the ensemble, thinking that it was not a bad thing to be armed when entering unknown territory. He emerged from the bathroom, clad in his evenings finery, and moved to place the clothes he had changed out of into his suitcase.

"I've Warded our luggage," he said, turning to Esme. Great good goddess but she was lovely. "If anyone messes with it, we'll know and can trigger the active portions of the Wards if we choose. There are two levels of protection. The first is a simple stun. Whomever is messing with our things will be knocked out for a couple of hours at least. The second is the complete destruction of everything inside the Wards. It would mean we are running with only the clothes on our backs, but there would be nothing for anyone to use to find us, either mundanely or magically."

Esme had paled slightly as Kyle detailed the effects they could trigger, but she nodded firmly when he had finished. Kyle strode forward, taking Esme;s hands in his, gazing into her worried eyes and smiling gently.

"A precaution only," he said softly. "And now, I'm going to make you uncomfortable, but you need to hear this. We may indeed be heading into the unknown, but we are together. You are strong, smart, and beautiful. I am handsome, cunning, and willing to aid or defend you to my last breath if need be. These fools don't know who they're messing with. And now, I'd really like to kiss you."

Without giving Esme a chance to protest, Kyle leaned down and kissed her gently, doing his best to reassure her without words that no matter what was thrown at them, they would find a way to persevere. Long before Kyle was ready for the kiss to end, an insistent ring from the room phone drew his attention. Reluctantly stepping away from Esme, Kyle moved over to lift the receiver.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Jenkins, your driver has arrived and is waiting for you," a female voice said.

"Thank you," Kyle replied. "We are on our way."

Kyle hung up the receiver and turned to Esme, taking in the look of apprehension on her face. He smiled slightly, then picked up her outer wrap and helped her into it before grabbing his coat and cane.

"It's time," he said. "Let's go see what we shall see."

Kyle and Esme made their way quickly to the lobby, where they were met with something of a surprise. Agasha was their, but he was dressed in a finely tailored tuxedo, and was accompanied by a young woman in a chauffer's uniform. Kyle raised one eyebrow, and Agasha gave them something of an apologetic grin.

"Good evening," Agasha said. "For tonight, Anya will be our driver, and I shall do my humble best to explain what you may expect this evening. Don't worry, Mr. Mikhailov is quite pleased with the way you have deported yourselves in the face of the obstacles placed before you, as well as your generosity where those in positions of service were involved. He looks forward to meeting you in person. Anything further can be discussed in the limousine. If you would?"

At Agasha's words, the young woman, Anya, darted out the door to open the rat door of a very familiar limo. With a bow, Agasha gestured for Kyle and Esme to precede him, climbing in only after they had settled themselves comfortably. Anya shut the door, then they were off, the limo weaving deftly through traffic, carrying them into the unknown future.

Spoiler: Suit

Fable (Dapper demon is dapper, and would like to give his lady a kiss before they go to beard the lion in its den.)

 

[Fable]

Tarmagon
(And on this day, over a year later; I post.)

Esme - while worried - was relieved that their luggage had been taken care of by Kyle. While it would royally suck for them to potentially lose everything due to someone being sneaky and tampering with their things it was something to cover their tracks. Those were just material things anyway. She just hoped no one would do something stupid while they were gone, but this was the mafia they were dealing with here. They had probably been under observation for an unknown period of time; at minimum from the time she played the code to get an introduction for a meeting.

Her thoughts were pulled back into the present as Kyle spoke and she let out a small soft laugh at he complimented himself. Well, he wasn't wrong about being handsome and cunning. Esme's eyes widened as he brought up his desire to kiss her and before her brain had a chance to register his words she saw him close the distance between them followed by the soft and gentle sensation of his lips. Her eyes fluttered closed instinctively and she returned the kiss.

Unfortunately this moment was interrupted by the ringing phone. The noise shattered the momentary serenity and bliss causing Esme to half pout-half frown while she narrowed her eyes at the phone. It wasn't a mystery about what the phone call was regarding so she simply nodded and accepted his assistance in putting on the outer wrap. She grabbed the small clutch purse that held her passport, some local currency, and some makeup in case she had to fix something while out. Esme had opted to leaver her phone behind because the last thing she needed was a phone call in the middle of a meeting with a mafioso.

Esme's brow furrowed as the woman who would be their driver and she wondered if Agasha was involved with the Russian Mafia himself. She let out a resigned sigh as the thought of 'go figure' crossed her mind. She was nervous as she slid into the waiting limo, but for some reason she didn't think she was feeling anxious enough. She was encouraging herself to just 'rip off the bandaid' and get this over and done with. Backing out now after everything was something she refused to do at this point. Too late to back out now as they said.

"This party is a formal affair with celebrities, politicians, and of course powerful criminal lords. I highly suggest keeping any sarcastic comments to yourself. You might mistakenly offense someone's spouse which would only make you a troublesome guest. Upset the wrong person and the consequences could be harsh. As you both have been invited to the party you are of course welcome and encourage to enjoy the evening."

"Mr. Mikhailov will split his time between playing as a party host and then having... closed door meetings throughout the evening. Do not approach him yourself, when it is time for your meeting you'll be escorted to the office to conduct business. As long as you are respectful during the meeting things should go smoothly, but don't try and press your luck. In terms of negotiating power Mr. Mikhailov is the only in control."
( This post alright? ;-; )

 

[Tarmagon]

Kyle managed not to frown at Agasha's word, but his brows did draw together as the man who had been their driver explained how their evening could be expected to go. His eyes, which had been warm despite the unexpected events, now turned into flecks of frozen ice. Agasha noticed the change in Kyle's demeanor, drawing back slightly.

"There is perhaps a problem?" the Russian asked, one eyebrow up.

"Not yet," Kyle replied coolly in English, then switched to Russian. "Although I am getting tired of tests, veiled threats, and not so veiled arrogance. Yes, you have information we wish to acquire, and my companion is doing her best to play by your rules, as uncomfortable with them as she is. I, on the other hand, while not enjoying such maneuvering, was raised in an environment where such things were a matter of course. I am remaining polite for her sake, but do not mistake politeness for weakness. That would be, uncomfortable for all parties involved. Unlike my companion, I care not for politicians, crime bosses or celebrities. I will not offer insult knowingly, but neither shall I ACCEPT insults from those who believe themselves my betters."

Kyle shrugged at their erstwhile driver, the tension fading quickly from his shoulders.

"Despite your deception," he continued in English once more, "You were polite, informative, and friendly. I rather think that the time you spent with us made it clear that we don't go out of our way to be insulting. We have... cultural differences that can lead to misunderstandings, but those are generally repairable unless someone refuses to accept those differences. One should hope that such individuals such as you have named have managed to recognize that. And as for negotiating, Mr. Mikhailov will name his price, and we shall decide if it is a price we are comfortable with paying. If not, then we try to find common ground. If we cannot, then we leave disappointed."

Agasha frowned in turn, looking like he wanted to dispute Kyle's last statement, but Kyle held up one finger, smiling wryly.

"For the sake of my companion, do not threaten his wrath should we choose not to pay his price," Kyle said equably. "In that matter, it is we who have the power. He knows who we seek. That should suffice."

Agasha studied Kyle for a moment, then shrugged as well.

"That is true," he said, settling back into the comfortable cushions and taking up a drink from the small bar. "We have a ride of about half an hour remaining. Would either of you care for a drink?"

Fable (Demon is starting to get a bit disgruntled by all of the vague threats and arrogance, but he's behaving. For now. For Esme.)

 

[Fable]

Tarmagon
(New modem! ISP not constantly rejecting modem connection! They were being stupid about us buying our own modem and not renting theirs.)

Esme could only remain silently awkward as Kyle's body language became obviously less friendly and he switched to the native tongue of Agasha. She wasn't surprised about the deception behind Agasha somehow being involved with the mafia. It was slightly unnerving having someone so close without knowing they were probably just there to keep watch on them. Were they really that suspicious? Probably. They were unknowns who suddenly wanted an audience with a criminal overlord.

When Kyle's body released the tension she let out a small breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "You should probably do all the talking," she tried to joke. Kyle could speak the local language and wasn't someone anyone would look to fuck around with. Though she could pull a mean face if she really needed too. After working at a bar a girl needed to learn the way to tell someone to fuck off without saying it directly. How well that would work with a bunch of mafiaso... chances were slim.

"I'll skip on the drinks," Esme refused Agasha's offer. She needed a clear head right now and as much as a drink would help take the tension out of her muscles it might make her a bit too relaxed. That would be potentially very bad when she needed to be on non-passive-aggressive behavior.

Esme moved her hand to lightly grasp one of Kyle's as casually as she could muster, though such an act was still a bit strange for her which made her feel slightly anxious. There wasn't much conversation for the remainder of the ride. Esme's goal was to meet the head honcho, so asking Agasha would be a fruitless endeavor to try and glean any additional information. She could ask what the host looked like, but would they get a truthful answer?

It was not time to see how things went from here. Either they got what they came for or they left empty handed. Worst case they make enemies with the Russian mafia. That last outcome was the most extreme possibility. Hell, maybe they somehow end up making friends with the mafia? That would be fucking hilarious!

Soon the bright lights of Mikhailov's estate were visible. It was a large mansion in the middle of nowhere and anyone could see from a certain distance there was some sort of party being hosted. There were cars being parked by valets, people were lingering outside on balconies; it was bursting with life in the pitch blackness. Their car slowed the closer they got as there was a line of cars waiting to drop off their fare or have the valet park the car for the guests.

When their vehicle stopped and the door was opened for Kyle and Esme to exit Agasha bid them a friendly farewell, remaining in the car as it proceeded forward so the next in line could proceed. Being right outside the building the music could be heard. This wasn't like a bar, the music was pop or rock but classical and most likely from a small live orchestra. "Into the dragon's lair we go," Esme muttered, thought she suspected Kyle would have been able to hear her comment.

At the door were some very large men in black suit that were clearly armed. Next to these security guards was a leaner, younger man who was checking invitations with a small blacklight. That was one way to detect fakes, a hidden watermark. Esme offered their invitation to the man who swiftly checked for the hidden mark and then set their invitation aside as he welcomed them. He gave them quick directions to where the food, drinks, table, and bathrooms were located before wishing them a pleasant evening.

Esme had noted that their invitation had been set aside with a smaller stack of invitations that had been handed over. Perhaps that was the pile for those who were set up with meetings for this evening. "Wonder how long we're going to be stuck waiting," she sighed. Esme didn't want to have to be here longer than necessary. The less time there were there the less time she had to screw things up.

 

[Tarmagon]

Kyle could feel the tension coming off of Esme as he spoke to Agasha, but she also relaxed when he did.

"You should probably do all the talking," she said, most likely because his fluency with Russian had grown far out of proportion to the amount of time he had spent learning it. Magic did convey a few advantages after all. "I'll skip on the drinks."

Kyle could actually feel Esme's need for the calming effect of the drink, but also knew that she was determined to remain clear-headed for their upcoming meeting. He didn't say anything, didn't give any outward sign of how proud of her he was. but when one of her hands stole oh so casually into his, he gave a gentle squeeze before letting Esme dictate the clasp. Meanwhile...

"I shall join you," Kyle said, reaching out with his unencumbered hand to accept the proffered drink. A brief discussion with his body made certain that the alcohol wouldn't effect him, allowing him to pass the time with Agasha in meaningless pleasantries. He carefully avoided anything even close to the upcoming party and potential meeting, keeping things inconsequential, mostly about particular landmarks they passed. Soon enough they were in open countryside, and the little conversation died away to nothing. Fortunately, before the silence could become awkward, a large estate appeared ahead, brilliantly illuminated and obviously the site of a party in full swing.

They pulled up to the foyer, Agasha bid they a polite farewell, remaining in the car as Kyle and Esme exited. Kyle was amused by Esme's muttered comment, barely audible over the sounds of classical music drifting out of the mansion. As they approached the door, which was flanked by a pair of dark suited and obviously armed guards, a slender young man accepted their invitation from Esme, shining an odd light upon it, which caused a hidden mark to glow. Nodding, the man bid them welcome as he set their invitation aside. Kyle did notice that there were two different piles, and theirs went into the significantly smaller. Intriguing.

"Wonder how long we're going to be stuck waiting," Esme sighed as they followed the young man's directions towards the tables.

"As long as required," Kyle replied. "No more, and no less."

Kyle took note of the other party goers as they moved through the throng of people. Everyone was well dressed, that was a given, but not all of them exuded the same air. Some of the more attractive ones were at the centers of their own small groups, and seemed to think that the admiration they were receiving was their just dues. Others watched those around them with cold, calculating eyes, seeming to judge everyone they beheld for some personal value to them. Some carried themselves will ill concealed boredom, going through the motions of socializing, but obviously wishing they were elsewhere. In short, this was a typical court function. People attended because it was required, or because they saw an advantage to be gained. Illicit deals would be made over glasses of wine and whiskey, power would be exchanged, lives would be altered, or perhaps destroyed on a whim. Just the kind of thing Kyle hated. However, just because a game was despised, that didn't preclude one from learning the rules out of self-defense.

"Esme," Kyle whispered, bending so close that his breath brushed gently against her ear as he spoke. "I have been to this type of event on my world. I'm going to seem different for a bit. Please know that it is all an act. I'm still me, I promise."

Straightening, Kyle looked around the room again, a haughty expression settling over his features. It almost seemed as though he were clad in a suit of armor, made up of indifference and judgement. Everywhere his eyes fell, they evaluated, analysed, categorized. He belonged here, and everyone else was here for him to decide how to best utilize. The guards discretely stationed about the room were beneath his notice. They were there to serve a purpose, as were the staff circulating around with drinks, or whatever was requested of them. His stride changed as well, becoming, inexorable. People began to drift out of his path as he led Esme towards a table that was currently unoccupied. A sharp glance and a twitch of his head towards the table to one of the attentive serves resulted in chairs being pulled away just as they arrived. Nodding his approval, Kyle seated Esme, then gestured towards her, causing the server to turn his attention to her.

"May I offer you a drink ma'am?" the young man said politely. "Sir?"

Fable (Court Demon has entered the building. He may not like the game, but he knows the rules well.)

 

[Fable]

Tarmagon

Esme stood at the bar and ordered a glass of water which was promptly poured and given to her in a fancy glass. It was when she took a sip of the beverage that Kyle leaned over to whisper into her ear which sent pleasant chills down her spine. She might've choked on her drink had he done that a nanosecond earlier. Instead her sip turned into a gulp and she nervously cleared her throat.

She turned to look at him as the mask and act went into place; the warm Kyle replaced with an apathetic stranger. He looked at everything and everyone as though they were all beneath him and gave way as he lead them to a table for their use. She seated herself and set down her glass of water and when asked if she wanted a drink she politely declined. The server turned to Kyle awaiting for a drink order before they would leave the table and carry on their duty.

"So this is your Sir Stick-Up-His-Ass persona huh?" Esme asked, trying to see if she'd get him to crack even just the slightest. This party wasn't her type of a good time and so if she was going to be stuck here for an undetermined amount of time she was going to make her own fun. "Can't say I'm a fan. I prefer Lord Amber," she added thinking back to the time they had a pillow fight. They were going to have to have a rematch on that subject.

(Sorry it's short. I was debating if I wanted to carry on till the meeting or give our pair a chance to have some fun and interact a bit before.)

 

[Tarmagon]

"So this is your Sir Stick-Up-His-Ass persona huh?" Esme asked,. "Can't say I'm a fan. I prefer Lord Amber."

Kyle kept his impassive face on, but his voice was its normal, warm tone when he spoke.

"Sir Stick-Up-His-Ass?" he asked. "I have to wonder when the human race became so fixated on putting things in their posteriors. Head up the ass, foot up the ass, stick up the ass, corncob out the ass. And don't get me started on what I've seen on your 'Internet'. It's no wonder that proctologists are in such high demand these days. It's a wonder that your species even remembers how to procreate given this strange fixation. I will have you know that my 'ass' remains inviolate, and it shall continue to remain so."

Esme had chosen a poor time to take a sip, or perhaps Kyle had timed it perfectly because that was not the reaction she was expecting. The straight face he kept while saying it didn't help either. Esme let out a small cough as she nearly spit out of her drink from wanting to burst out laughing, instead only partially inhaling the liquid down the wrong tube and her lungs were now angry for the invasion.

It took her a few moments to regain her composure. "I am not even going to ask what you were looking into on the internet nor am I going to make a comment about that last line either."

"That is probably for the best," Kyle said in a dry voice. "And no matter how innocent the request, your 'Internet' seems hell-bent on serving up... well, I have seen some things that even the most twisted member of House Calinathra would shudder to see. However, that has little bearing on where we are, or why we are here."

Kyle took a moment to read the room again, his eyes sweeping over the gathered people. Most of them would have been at home in a High Court function on his world. He noted that occasionally someone would be approached by one of the guard types, and would follow them out through a small side door. Sometimes the person would return, sometimes not. Interesting.

"This really does remind me of my own world," Kyle said, leaning close so that it would seem to anyone watching that he was conferring with Esme. "There are just things that seem to transcend species."

He indicated a lavishly dressed couple with a tilt of his chin. The woman was wearing a much more daring dress than Esme, and the man's suit would have paid for the rent on their apartment for a year. They were surveying the room with predator's eyes, as as Esme watched, the woman strode towards a young couple who were obviously together and also obviously uncomfortable.

"They are hunting," Kyle said. "She will tempt those two into a 'fun evening' with promises of new experiences. Her husband will seduce the younger woman, and she will work her wiles on the young man. They will use the other couple, possibly use them up, then go hunting again."

Kyle indicated another couple with a flick of his eyes, then indicated the one right beside them.

"The first couple are married, but unhappily so," he said. "See how she stands a little turned away from her husband? How her eyes wander? Now, the other two are not married, but are in a business relationship. She is... hmm, not a mistress. No, she is a hetaera. A business professional in every sense of the word, not just in matters of the bedroom. Indeed, I would imagine that is a very small part of their relationship. Um, are you alright?"

Fable (Informative demon is perhaps too informative?"

 

[Fable]

Tarmagon

Kyle had a point about the internet providing results of a vulgar nature; rule 34 and all was very much true. Sometimes it felt like the internet was more of a curse than a blessing. Sure, you could get great access to information, but the downside of that was the information could still be very wrong or you might end up with computer virus, or down so very scary rabbit holes to site's that shouldn't exist.

When he said that this reminded him of his own world Esme tilted her head slightly and then gave a small shrug. "Some things are a universal truth." She noticed his gaze wandering and followed to where he was looking, listening as he spoke about the people he observed. It was stuff that were in over-the-top dramas that Liz loved to watch. Stupid daytime dramas Liz would record on the DVR to laugh at the absurdity of the story and wondering what trope would come next. Lover in a coma? Cheating scandal? Liz would make drinking games from their predictability.

It was one thing to watch an awful daytime soap opera. Witnessing this happening in current time with actual people and not terrible actors made her feel somewhat sick in her gut. When Kyle asked if she was alright she managed a weak smile, "Just hope your stern face is enough to keep those kind of people away. Last thing I want to deal with is someone pushing for a ménage à trois. I can't exactly throw a drink on them or cuss them out here like I could at a bar. Also, what is a hetaera? From context it sounds like an escort?"

"A hetaera is..." Kyle began, then paused, obviously thinking. "A, companion, partner, mentor, and provider of, comfort and release. They are more than a simple escort, though they may fulfill that function. They could host a party, help you run a business, or nearly anything. The closest thing to a proper hetaera I have found in your modern culture would perhaps be a geisha? Well educated, professional, compassionate, but ultimately without emotional connection and therefore able to interpret their partners actual needs rather than their wants and desires."

Esme quirked a brow when he compared a geisha to a 'hetaera'. She wasn't sure if he was aware geishas didn't include sexual partner in their list of skills. Honestly, Esme wasn't really the type of woman to get offended by someone with that type of job if it was their choice. It wasn't a job she'd ever take for herself, but she had some respect for those women who had the confidence and ability to have such a position since she was certain it wasn't easy in the slightest. Hell, as a bartender Esme would sometimes snap at people who would bitch about their drink being wrong when it was a simple matter that they were too weak to handle something like a rum and coke.

She sighed a bit as the pressure of feeling very much out of place increased. "I hope we get our meeting sooner rather than later. Though I have a feeling we'd still have to stick around afterwards for some stupid etiquette reason," Esme complained. "Also, you may not want to compare a hetaera to a geisha. You might trigger a SJW."

Esme was trying to joke because if she didn't she worried she'd sink into the growing nervous pit in her stomach. There were a few people who looked as though they wanted to approach the duo to socialize. She was certain there were probably curious glances and whispers as others tried to figure out who they were since they weren't famous or listed on a Forbes Most Rich list. The server had come back a few times to fulfill any new requests they had for food or drinks and took away any discarded dishes.

Two hours had come and gone and then at last they were approached by a very large and stern looking man who was probably pure muscle on steroids. "Mr. Mikhailov will see you now." That was all the man said as he only waited long enough for Esme and Kyle to stand before turning his back towards them and leading them through the throng of guests. They left the main room which was being used for entertainment and led up two flights of ornate stairs which were heavily guarded.

After a trek down a long hallway they were brought to a large wooden door where there were more guards. These guards silently went to pat them both down from top to bottom which made Esme stressed and uncomfortable. She endured it however because otherwise she might end up getting both of them into trouble. She just closed her eyes tightly and her body tensed waiting for the pat down to end. She trusted Kyle would intercede if hands wandered into inappropriate areas.

It was over in a matter of seconds, but to Esme even that was much too long. However, she had managed to endure it and let out a breath she had been holding when they were given the clear to enter the office to meet the mysterious mafiaso Alexei Mikhailov.

Alexei Mikhailov was half-leaning against a large wooden desk, not even looking at them but rather at some papers in his hands. The room was a large office has dark wood floors, paneled walls which featured large abstract paintings. There was a fireplace with a low burning fire making the office a bit warmer than the hallway they had just come through. Large bookcases were filled completely with a variety of books; from vintage first editions to more modern hardbacks.

The man himself stood at least six feet in height with styled salt and pepper hair with a full, lush beard that was clearly well kept. He wore a simple black business suit, though the jacket was neatly resting upon the back of the highback office chair.

When Esme and Kyle were both within the room the door closed behind them smoothly leaving the trio to discuss their business in private. "Please, have a seat. Would you care for a drink?" He set the papers face down on his desk and turned towards them, a hand extending outward towards the two plush leather chairs that sat opposite of his own at the desk. Esme's throat was feeling dry despite having stuck with water for the evening. Asking for water from a mafia boss seemed almost... insulting though.

"Do you have any Kvass?" she inquired, having done a bit of reading about the more popular alcoholic beverages of the country. This one was supposedly low in alcoholic content and even could be considered non-alcoholic depending on who you asked. The request was met with a small smile and nod as he went to pour a glass for Esme as he was expecting to being the host. He would also fulfill any drink request made by Kyle.

"You'll have to excuse me for not joining you in a drink," he said as he sat down across from them. "I only drink for good business deals. A... celebration of an agreement." The older gentleman, who was probably old enough to be Esme's father, leaned back into the chair casually. "Now then, introductions, yes? It is only polite after all."

Esme took an experimental sip of her drink, hoping that it didn't taste like shit and make her want to gag or spit it out. It wouldn't leave a good impression. It wasn't that bad at all. "I'm <insert faux name here because fuck I forgot their aliases! It's been a year!> and this is <insert Kyle's faux name here!>"

"Forgive me if I offend, but I assume you are new money? You see I am usually well informed about my guests, but you two are mysterious. I do not care much for mysterious people. Bad experiences you understand. So, I will be clear here that I do not care about who you are unless you are here to cause my business trouble. As such I do not appreciate pseudonyms because they usually come with trouble."

Esme's eyes glanced over to Kyle. He didn't believe them which meant he probably had some information about them. Honestly, things like fake IDs were something the criminal underground sold as goods so she wouldn't she shocked if somehow this mafia boss had done his due diligence and traced their travels as far back as possible. Or maybe he was bluffing? She didn't want to take the chance that he wasn't hinting at knowing there was something off and then having the meeting ruined by it.

"First names only then. I'm Esme and this is Kyle," she said looking directly into the man's brown eyes. Esme chanted in her head to not look away as much as her nerves were screaming. A few seconds later he was laughing softly and the tense atmosphere decreased greatly.

"That will do. For now. Now, what exactly do you come to me for?"

"You have someone under your employment. I'm not certain of his name that he goes by within your business. However, he has some information that I need."

"You'll have to be more specific. I have many employees."

(Stopped here for Kyle.)

 

[Tarmagon]

"I hope we get our meeting sooner rather than later. Though I have a feeling we'd still have to stick around afterwards for some stupid etiquette reason," Esme complained. "Also, you may not want to compare a hetaera to a geisha. You might trigger a SJW."

"A what?" Kyle asked, a brief look of confusion crossing his face before the mask of indifference settled over it once more. "Ah, never mind. Whatever that is, I shall try not to 'trigger' one."

The conversation lapsed at that point, Esme's nerves obviously bothering her. A few, monosyllabic answers were the best Kyle could pry out of her for the next couple of hours. After one or two futile attempts to calm her nerves, Kyle settled into 'protector' mode, keeping the curious or interested at bay with cold stares, aloof indifference, and the occasional word. Esme spoke to the attentive staff more than she did to Kyle, but she abstained from strong drink, instead choosing to stick to various waters. Kyle made no outward sign, but inside he was smiling. He knew that she wanted a drink to settle her nerves, but also knew she had to be ready to bargain with whomever finally dealt with their request, so she was taking the hard route.

As the end of the second hour approached, even Kyle's monumental patience was starting to feel strained, though he let none of his irritation show. He noted the approach of one of the guard types with mild disinterest, though inside he was glad that the waiting game was nearly over.

"Mr. Mikhailov will see you now." the blocky man said, waiting only long enough to make certain they had risen and were following before leading them away from the gathering and up a couple of flights of rather ornate stairs, which were in stark contrast to the obvious guards stationed at regular intervals along them. Away from the gathering, their faces were stern, even unfriendly, and they made no attempts to disguise who and what they were. Kyle's willpower was put to the test as two toughs stepped forward, running their hands over his and Esme's bodies, searching for weapons. Only their bored expressions and businesslike demeanor saved them from a quick and violent ending. The man examining Kyle took his cane, examining it closely and trying the top to check for hidden blades or releases. Kyle kept his face impassive, knowing that his touch was the only thing that would free the hidden blade. Protocol apparently satisfied, the two of them were ushered into a large room that looked more like a private library than an office.

The man waiting to meet them was distinguished looking, wearing a dark suit sans jacket, and leaning comfortably on a large desk. Everything in this room cried 'age and wealth', though not in an extravagant fashion. It was designed to display without ostentation, and achieved its purpose admirably. It rather reminded Kyle of his own library, right down to the fire in the hearth. Kyle listened as the gentleman, who must be the mysterious Alexei Mikhailov, made polite if stilted introductions. Esme requested a drink Kyle had never heard of, but he declined the polite offer with a small shake of his head. When the topic of their assumed identifies came up, things turned serious.

"First names only then. I'm Esme and this is Kyle," she said looking directly into the man's brown eyes. Esme chanted in her head to not look away as much as her nerves were screaming. A few seconds later he was laughing softly and the tense atmosphere decreased greatly.

"That will do. For now. Now, what exactly do you come to me for?"

"You have someone under your employment. I'm not certain of his name that he goes by within your business. However, he has some information that I need."

"You'll have to be more specific. I have many employees."

"I believe that he is using his real name," Kyle said, his voice even. "We seek an audience with the one known as Le'cin'der."

The mafia boss had an excellent poker face, though Kyle did notice a slight tightening around his eyes for just a moment before the urbane mask reasserted itself. Interesting.

"That name is not widely known," Alexei said, his voice neutral. "And I would very much like to know how YOU know it."

"We have been in touch with one of his, countrymen," Kyle said, choosing his words carefully. "She was assisting my companion with a delicate matter, and Le'cin'der was mentioned as perhaps being able to provide some information that she could not. It was she who gave us the means to seek you out, informing us that, due to Le'cin'der's reclusive and eccentric nature, our best chance to speak to him lay through your auspices. We are not 'new money' nor law enforcement, nor reporters. We are simply seeking answers that only one such as he may provide."

Fable (Short, but I didn't want to step on any upcoming plot devices.)

 

[Fable]

Tarmagon

Esme didn't think Kyle was going to just directly say the old demon's name. Her eyes widened and her body stiffened because she didn't know what to expect the moment their motive was revealed. It was pretty obvious this was not a common a request because they knew a very secretive name to a secretive demon. If the mafia boss was perturbed he didn't show it. His demeanor didn't change at all despite the name drop from Kyle. That was even more concerning to Esme.

"One of his countrymen," the elder man said out loud, though it wasn't a question. Just a repeated statement. Alexei Mikhailov's body language remained casual, but there was a bit of an edge. His eyes were sharp and unwavering as he regarding them from his seated position. There was a long silence that was unsettling Esme and she wanted to fidget, to bounce a leg or fidget with her fingers to direct her anxiety that she felt inside.

"There are very few who are aware of who exactly this person you seek is. Those that do know of him have never been so bold as to request access to him. You'll have to pardon my suspicion of you because of this. I hope you will excuse the bluntness of this request, but I must inquire what exactly you know about him. He specializes in certain things and if it is just information you seek and you believe he is the only one who can provide this then you should be aware of his uniqueness."

Esme didn't want to ramble about what Ardyr'e had mentioned about Le'cin'der. So, she went with the most basic and direct answer she could give to let this man know that they knew exactly what Le'cin'der was.

"He isn't human."

The older gentleman blinked slowly as he pondered on Esme's answer. "Well then, you are indeed knowledgeable about him in that aspect. Which means there are now only two outcomes for you. One allows you to live and the other, well, we cannot have you sharing what you know." It was clear what he was inferring on the second outcome. His eyes even slid over to Kyle to gauge his reaction. Now everything they said and did was being watched even more closely. If Kyle went to this wasn't going to end well for any of them.

"This means you are looking for something very special if you believe only he has answers. Only those touched with lunacy wouldn't exhaust other options before seeking him out. For the right price and if he agrees we can arrange a meeting. As you said, he is eccentric and if he does not feel inclined to speak with you there isn't nothing to be done. I will pass a message to him on your behalf when your payment is received."

"Pass the message first. I would rather know that a meeting will happen rather than just pay for an expensive message to be sent out and rejected," Esme sternly replied. She wasn't going to be conned into paying for a meeting that might not even happen.

Alexei Mikhailov laughed. He actually laughed. Not in an offensive way, but rather one showing he was amused. "Clever girl. Very well, message first. What do you want to send t him?"

Esme's mind stuttered to a halt. What the hell was she going to send to this old ass demon to entice him to meet? She sure as hell wasn't going to bring up Ardyr'e's name because her gut said that would more likely make him run away. She had a few ideas, things like sending a grimoire to a notebook with a scrawled mess of her life story. The issue was she didn't trust this mafia boss to not use whatever she was going to use as something to gain over her or Kyle. She needed something simple, that Alexei Mikhailov wouldn't understand, and that would pique Le'cin'der's interest. The only thing she could think of was the fake House name her father had gone by. If this old kook demon had been around a while and was so informed he surely knew about it, right?

"Dar'ange."

(Stopping here before it gets too long. XD)

 

[Tarmagon]

Kyle's only outward sign at the mobster's casual threat was a slight narrowing of his eyes. Inwardly, he wanted nothing more than to destroy the arrogant human who tossed around threats of death as though they were an everyday occurrence. For Mikhailov perhaps they were. As Mikhailov continued to speak with Esme, Kyle turned his attention to the room they were in, assessing possible threat paths and exits.

"Why must it always be threats?" he asked in Russian. "We were told of your, compatriot, and the knowledge does no pass with us. It was given to us by one of his ilk... and I see that you do not care whether or not you make an enemy of one of his kind. Interesting."

Kyle gathered up a small portion of his Power, concentrating it, then letting it expand away from him in an invisible wave. He kept his senses open, observing how the gentle wave interacted with the world around him. The part that crossed Mikhailov simply vanished, absorbed into a protective shield whose outline was ever so briefly visible to Kyle's inner eye. Strong, anti-magic. The work of a member of N'varin most likely. The outer walls of the building reflected the wave back on itself, revealing the presence of strong wards against external magical attack. Kyle nodded to himself, since similar wards were woven into the very walls of the Keep back home. Against the witches of this world, this place would be a magical fortress. Speaking of witches, Kyle was rather surprised to note a pair of voids somewhere below them. He noted them, then one of his eyebrows raised in mild surprise as a pair of questing Power bubbles rose up as if in response to his own. Kyle thought of sidestepping those seeking waves, but instantly decided not to, noting the relative power of the Seeking, and adjusting his own shields to mimic a moderately skilled, but human, witch.

"He is protected from direct magic," Kyle said in English to Esme, not trying to conceal his words from the mobster. "Indeed, there are wards upon the outer walls of this entire mansion. As such, he does not fear any possible repercussions from the one who sent us here. There are also two more witches of at least moderate skill within the building, though I cannot know if that is coincidence or whether our host has them on retainer to deal with troublemakers."

Kyle's words had elicited a single raised eyebrow, and he shrugged slightly.

"I like to know things," he said. "Especially in a situation where I might have to, object to the course of events. Remember our discussion when we started this Esme. We are not there, and I hope we do not arrive there."

Fable (Nothing that a skilled, human witch could not have done with advanced preparation. Nothing to reveal demonic origins, yet.)

 

[Fable]

Tarmagon

The mobster boss didn't react in the slightest to Kyle's magical pocking and prodding of his person and vicinity. If he felt anything at all from the probe he didn't express it. He had a soft smirk and a small shrug of his shoulders though as Kyle commented about the threats and making enemies. This was a man who had seen and experienced much in his lifetime and this might perhaps not be the first time the man had dealt with those from Kyle's realm. He was clearly not an ignorant man in regards to magic, demons, and witches.

Esme turned to Kyle when he announced there was magical protection. Honestly, she wasn't surprised the slightest. This was a man who employed a powerful demon. Her gaze turned back to Mikhailov who didn't bother to raise a brow at Kyle.

"Oh, I like to know things as well and cannot fault you for such." He turned his gaze onto Esme and held out his hand, which Esme thought was to shake. Instead the man smoothly brought the back of her hand to his lips and gave it a small polite kiss, his eyes stuck on Kyle though trying to read the demon's reaction. Any way Kyle would react would bring the man simple amusement.

"I shall pass your message along to him. You will be contacted to inform you on whether or not he decides to entertain a meeting with you. You should have your reply sometime tomorrow evening. It was a pleasure," he finished, long already having released Esme's hand and moving to the door to open it for them, raising a hand to indicate for them to exit. Esme didn't hesitate or bother to bid the man a farewell.

They were led back to the party and once back into the noise of the crowd Esme turned to Kyle, "Well, I'm ready to get the fuck outta here." Her only reason for being here was for this meeting and now with that done she wanted out of this place. She grabbed Kyle's hand and while she wasn't exactly rushing through the throng of partgoers she was clearly making a move to leave the party and mansion.

As they stood outside waiting for their ride back to the city and hotel she pursed her lips slightly, "Should we even bother finding another driver since ours obviously works for the mafia?" It was more a question to herself than to Kyle. It was probably better to just leave Agasha as he was, telling him to take a long walk off a short pier was pointless now. Hell, their next driver had the same chance of working for Mikhailov as well.

It was soon that Agasha appeared in the familiar car to drive them back to the city and hotel. He kept to simple pleasantries since it was revealed openly who he answered to. He was doing his best to respect a wide boundary that had appeared from that and was sticking to professionalism. Esme on the other hand took off her fancy shoes after she plopped down into the back of the car. "No more stiff Kyle for the rest of the evening," she said with a small smirk trying to do something to lighten the mood and also take her mind off her own anxieties.

 

[Tarmagon]

Kyle was interested in the mobster's lack of reaction save perhaps a slight amusement. Obviously this man thought he was invulnerable to any threat they might pose. For now, Kyle had no intentions to disabuse the man of his perceived protections, merely deciding that a little more research into this modern world was called for at his earliest convenience. When they were summarily dismissed and the mobster bent over Esme's hand to kiss it, Kyle kept his face impassive, knowing that any reaction could and would be used as a weapon against them. He was a trifle surprised that they were being let out of the building. Admittedly they would be in a known location, but having them out of his immediate sphere of influence would make any, drastic action much more difficult.

As they were escorted out, Kyle tapped in to a small amount of the power stored in his moonstones, using it to erase any trace of himself or Esme that they had left behind them in the mansion. No one would be trying any kind of sympathetic magic on them if he had anything to say about it. Agasha himself, rather than Anya, drove them back to their hotel. Agasha seemed to be maintaining an air of professionalism, keeping his conversation limited to light pleasantries rather than touch upon anything related to the evening. Esme had stripped off her heels as soon as they were in the car, obvio0usly glad to be rid of them for the moment.

"No more stiff Kyle for the rest of the evening," she said with a small smirk.

"Stiff?" Kyle asked with a grin, deliberately misunderstanding her statement. "Whatever gave you the impression I was stiff? I'm actually quite flexible. Although I suppose that I wouldn't say no to a backrub. Tell you what... I'll trade one of my foot massages for a backrub when we get back to the room. Deal?"

Kyle watched Esme's face carefully, hoping that she understood that he was trying to lighten the mood. He would never force his attention or presence on her in any way, but he had to admit, deep down in his core, that a part of him hoped she would respond to his flirtatious teasing in kind. He so wanted her to be able to relax around him, to believe that she was worthy of flirtation, affection. He wasn't worried, more like concerned, about the forces that the mob boss could bring to bear. While he was certain of his ability to protect himself from anything he saw coming, the possibility that the attack would target Esme chilled his soul. They might be fighting for their lives tomorrow, so... Kyle actually wasn't certain. He would prepare as best he could, strike without warning or mercy if he must, but for now, he would just enjoy being with Esme.

Fable (Kyle casts 'flirtation' in an attempt to distract Esme.)