Alain blew through the Silver Mark from the staircase door right by 'Lanta, dressed in a wifebeater and charcoal slacks with a black tie draped loosely over his shoulders, and looking very perplexed. He found his ankle holster on the chair by the fire and crouched to put it on, taking the revolver tucked into his belt and holstering it there instead. Then he straightened, looked around, petted Jean distractedly, and worried his lip. Bright blue eyes cut over to 'Lanta. "Would a tie be too much, you think?"

He'd only made her leap out of her skin when he came breezing in, since she had been engrossed in the horror novel she'd picked up earlier that afternoon. She'd just gotten to a rather scary scene, too--wasn't that always the way? Funny how when faced with demons, she didn't bat an eyelash, but when faced with text, she was terrified. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" She huffed, with her hand over her heart, as she watched her Boss. "What're you on about?"

"I'm meeting Count Longden in a few hours, and I need to look good." He paused, and added, "But relaxed. Best I can tell, it's going to be dinner, wine, cigars and business at his place."

"Relaxed...but ready for business and manly bonding?" She laughed, leaning back on her stool. She held onto the bar and let her eyes look over him. "What are our options?"

"A lot of shirts, a lot of ties, and the full greyscale of slacks and jackets." He flicked a glance to the 'lunchbreak' sign, even though it was way past lunchtime. "You want to take a look?"

"Well, it looks like you can use a hand, Alain." She giggled, pointing to his current attire. "It's just like opening night." She smiled, both with warmth and humor, as she slipped down to her feet.

"I should invest in a valet," he admitted with a resigned sigh as he trudged up the stairs, fiddling with the tie. "I hope he doesn't notice the gun - and if he does, that he doesn't mind. He ought to understand, as a businessman." He grinned over his shoulder at 'Lanta as they reach his room. "He's a vampire after all."

"Vampire?" She wrinkled her nose, brushing some hair behind her ear. Normally, she'd be blushing up a storm while following a fella to his room. Or, at least glowing. But this was Alain, her Boss, and he was more of a protector figure, now. "Who is this bloke, again?" She'd never had the pleasure of meeting the Count.

"A noble of some kind and a CEO - and also my second-largest source of security funding, but you didn't hear that." He opened up his closet and stepped back to examine his shirts. He had a lot of them, though they were almost all solid colors.

"Hear what?" She looked over to him, dark green eyes round and open, full of youth and not much else. Was she kidding? If she was, she hid her smile well as she peered into his closet to investigate, one finger tapping her lower lip. "So...a Count. Is he a Wowser? No. Probably not, huh, considering he's a vampire.." She reached to touch a navy shirt, then shook her head.

"A Wowser?" Because Alain was boring, he moved to grab a white shirt.

"Real straight-laced. Conservative type." She half-smiled, shaking her head and pushing his hand away. "Some sheilas used to call me that in school." She almost laughed at that, but it came out as more of a snort. "Mmm...so, he's rich and likes blood. I think this un." She said, pinching a scarlet colored shirt sleeve.

"I don't know much about him, but if I had to go out on a limb? Tasteful decadence." And he picked up the scarlet shirt, and grinned. "Which is what makes this shirt... perfect." He unbuttoned it, slipped into it, and buttoned it back up pretty quickly. "Jacket?" He straightened his shirt a little, adjusting his collar.

She giggled at his description, before taking a bow. "Locke must be wearing off on me. Now the tricky part, right?" She went back to looking in his closet, leaving him to button-up. "Black is the obvious choice, but let's have a Captain Hook."

"You pick up Cockney from him, too?" He frowned into the closet, and looked in the mirror, seeing how the red went with the dark grey slacks he was wearing. "Dark grey or black..."

"What's Cockney?" She blinked, turning around towards him. "Dark grey! I think it makes a better statement! It's...kind of a variation on the classic. It's more modern!"

"Cockney rhyming." He picked out a jacket to match his slacks and adjusted it. "It's more confident, and I'll take it off the moment I'm inside, anyway." He smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror.

"I...? Oh. The Captain Hook thing? We use it a bit in Banesmeath. Never heard 'Cockney' before, though." She stood off to the side, considering him now that he was clothed properly. "You need a little adjustment, still. C'mere."

He grinned and moved over to her. "Think we'll still strike a deal if I don't put out for him tonight?"

She giggled, giving him a nudge in the ribs. "Well, you are pretty charming, so ya should be alright. It could sweeten the pot, though." She reached up, to ubutton and fan his collar out a little. "Gotta keep you from looking stiff."

"Can't have that - I've got to look every inch the ambitious but open-minded young entrepeneur." He spread his arms. "Do I look the part now?"

"Hm." She paused, looking him over critically, then leaned in. She changed the buttoning on his jacket, repeated the review, then opted for a different buttoning pattern. When she stepped back, again, she smiled. "Almost perfect! Muss your hair some, though."

He was pretty good at that - rubbed his hair vigorously a few seconds and plucked at the bangs some. He looked back at the mirror. "There we go."

"Clah, Alain!" She exclaimed from behind him, having also consulted the mirror. "Now you just have to worry about him being envious!"
"He's the one with a small harem, while I'm well on my way down bachelor road." He said it with a grin, though, and turned away from the mirror, mussing her hair playfully as he passed by on his way out of the bedroom. "Thanks for your help, 'Lanta."

She almost asked, too, though her expression at his words was curious enough. It changed when she was suddenly forced to blow brown bits of hair out of her face. "All in a day's work, Boss."

He hurried down the stairs and jogged lightly towards the door. "Wish me luck!" And out he went.

A perplexed laugh, and then she was downstairs, too, looking over to Jean. "Alright. Time to get this place ready." Jean wagged his tail and barked his agreement.

(Adapted from a scene played on AIM with the help of the lovely and talented Lanta-mun.)

It took a great deal of effort to bring Alain's thoughts under control and narrow his focus to his business with the count Longden. His troubles with Cassie and their "break," his business with a trio of demonic lawyers, managing the task of building Esperance - each one fought for dominance, but with effort, the detective sidelined them and frowned instead on the notes in his lap, as the carriage rattled over cobbled streets towards Longden's castle.

He'd never owned a carriage before, and he didn't plan to now. The coachman also was not in his employ, but they would be his for the evening as the result of a called favor. He had other means of transportation, a few, actually, but roaring up to a castle in a Mustang or an old British motorcycle did not strike him as classy. The carriage and coachman were on loan from one of the people in this city who owed him a debt, and they would have to do.

It would have been easier to silence his thoughts on other matters with the aid of a cigarette, but he thought it unwise to go into this man's house smelling like he'd just smoked - especially if it were anything less than a fine cigar.

You're colder than this, Alain. Keep it together, and keep your mind in the game.

By the time the carriage arrived at the castle, he felt ready. In fact, the notes had been organized and tucked away, in favor of a duplicate of them in a large but thin black book - and that book itself was shut. He could allow himself to soak in the sights as they approached, and even remembered to be let out instead of opening the door himself.

With his feet on solid ground, he took a moment to have a better look at this place, and try - from the architecture of it, the decor within, and the manner of his servants - to get a better handle on Talomar Longden.

He followed Charles, and found easy to size the man up - in the sense that there was very little one could tell about him just by looking. He was cool and confident, precise and polite, what every aristocrat would treasure in a valet.

"A cigar, please," he replied. It was a half-truth, as he hadn't in the last few years been a guest anywhere fancy enough where he felt a cigar would have been an appropriate option with a drink. This, however, felt fitting.

He recalled what it took to reel the Count in during their last meeting, that they kept it strictly business and outright avoided most of the usual small talk. Now with the offer of a cigar and a drink, he could not be entirely sure what the tone would be, except that Talomar would set it. It's only fair, he thought to himself. I was able to exercise a degree of control by selecting the time and place of our first meeting; now it is Monsieur Longden's turn.

Sharp blue eyes scanned the interior to get a better feel for the Count's tastes, though from the poise of Charles Dukette he could perhaps deduce that Talomar was a man who demanded perfection.

Alain nodded his head to Charles in parting, teeth clenched around the cigar. He took several slow, easy puffs as he explored the library, taking in his surroundings, bright blue eyes flickering over various titles. There's something to be said for a man who's well-read...

He located an ashtray and set the cigar down on the edge. A glance cut at the door, and he lifted the glass for a sniff, and a sip to taste on the palate; he smiled to himself, and drifted back towards the books.

One volume in particular caught his eye. He checked again to see if anyone was watching, and pulled it from the shelf to open and cradle in his hand.

Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable...

((EDIT - Edited to change present tense to past tense - oops!))

"Bonsoir, Comte Longden!" He smiled, shaking his hand, and looked down at the book indicated. The accent that comes out when he speaks French is, as ever, incredibly difficult to place.

"Yes... angels and demons seem to be on everyone's mind lately." His smile took an enigmatic turn, but still he lifted his glass to Longden's toast. "To an excellent evening, and still greater deeds."

The glass lifted, he sipped it and breathed a quiet sigh. It gave him a moment to think, to size up the Count and get as much of a handle on his mood as possible. He nodded his head towards the thin black book.

"The deeds are detailed as much as their circumstances permit in those pages, as well as my future plans. Things have taken a... rather unexpected turn, though one I do not think you will be displeased with."

Alain considered everything - soaked in every detail, and assumed each one was intentional. He followed the Count, looking appreciatively at the heads mounted on the wall, and wondered briefly if the Count himself hunted, or if this was the work of a ghillie or a gamekeeper.

An inappropriate question, so he kept it to himself, though he did invite conversation by the length of time his bright blue eyes lingered on an especially impressive stag. He counted the points, twelve, and turned his attention elsewhere.

Charles Dukette was indeed skilled at hiding in plain sight. On his second pass Alain picked him out, but did not give him any more attention, respecting the valet's desire to stay in the background.

He sat where indicated, and placed the black book out of the way. "It is more than satisfactory - and I can appreciate the need for privacy. It would be a disaster if the words here escaped the castle walls."

He sipped his water and smiled as he set the glass back down, ice chips rattling - he was just cold enough for his dark and dangerous work to amuse him, to an extent. "So which would you prefer to hear about first over a fine meal - the arrests, intimidation by the Sisters, or the deadly 'accidents'?"

He finished his soup at about the same pace as the count and had two rolls with it as well. He knew his own appetite (his stomach was likely home to a black hole) and knew better than to indulge it completely, as well as to practice the poised etiquette his mother taught him years ago.

"Everything is excellent," he said after two slices of the pheasant. "Your servants are always just out of sight, your chefs deserve all my compliments... You run a very tight ship here, Monsieur Longden."

The napkin is lifted to dab at his mouth, then deposited in his lap again. "I have a growing network of informants in this city - many of them criminals themselves, others among them just very good listeners. My first step was to use them in order to identify problem areas and violent criminals at large - rapists, murderers, armed robbers, and generally upstart gangs. I have been able to coordinate with the Watch, and they made a large number of arrests... arrests that have declined recently only because the problems themselves have not persisted. For once, I believe at least some forms of crime in this city are on the decline.

"There have been many, of course, that the Watch has been unable to get the evidence to arrest, or sometimes Watch members are paid off to let them go free... Those names have been sent enclosed in anonymous 'love letters' to the Scathachian Sisters, who have their own unique methods of intimidating them away from their criminal lives.

"...Sometimes, they get a bit carried away, and we end up with bodies. The same happens when certain, ah... other zealots on our payroll deliver justice to names on the list that would otherwise remain unscathed. Those too good or well-connected to capture, too defiant to intimidate. But members of the Watch have been encouraged to write these deaths off as freak accidents."

The detective actually chuckled. "It's a terrifying time to be a petty criminal in RhyDin, I'm sure... And I believe the next logical step is organized crime, which presents a more complex problem."

The hidden door opened again almost immediately.

Another ?man? emerged from the passage way, this one just slightly tall than the other. Whereas the other had hair of platinum, his hair was back. His face had a chiseled look that seemed incapable of humor.

The door closed behind him and there he remained, arms folded across his chest. He seemed almost oblivious that there were four others in the room.

"A very tight ship indeed."

The Count leaned back and wiped his lips and fingers with the linen napkin from his lap. ?I never take chances, Monsieur D?Mourir, especially when it concerns my assets and investments.?

He gave a brief nod to Dupres and Salvatore. ?Good evening, gentlemen. May I present Monsieur D?Mourir, whom I have mentioned to you on several occasions. He has just been explaining to me how he has a growing network of informants and has even used our dear Scathachian Sisters to rid our city of the ?street rats? that have been a plague on our beloved city. In fact, he says that it?s actually a terrifying time to be a petty criminal in RhyDin.?

He took a long sip of his wine and then looked at Alain, ?These are my two senior associates who have been working in the shadows.? He pointed to the first to enter, standing at the door between the Club Room and the Library. ?This is Lord Stefan Salvatore, Master Vampire of the city of Suceava and the surrounding areas within Romania. He?s served as a captain in several campaigns involving power and control, and he has quite a reputation for administering punishment. I can always count on him to do the dirty work that sometimes happens in business negotiations.?

Talomar then gave a nod over his shoulder. ?This is the Lord David Dupres, Master Vampire of the city of Svilengrad Karlovo. He can be remarkably ruthless. I?m trying to teach him patience, but it?s definitely not his strong suit. Nevertheless, his shortcomings are often just what?s needed in sticky situations.?

Count Longden then pushed his plate aside and leaned forward towards Alain. His voice was dark, ?Monsieur D?Mourir, it?s not the petty criminals that I care about and that I?m paying for. I really don?t give a f*** if they are terrified. I can accomplish that any night of the week and it won?t cost me a cent.? Talomar was sensing that his Second and Third were getting anxious to bring unholy hell down upon his guest, and he wasn?t ready for that ? yet.

?Let me be very clear. The people I?m paying you to bring down are the ones whom if I were to do it myself, it could be messy . . . people grow suspicious, ask questions, it?s bad for my business. In other words, I?m paying you to do something about the ?complex problems? as you call them. Yes, the organized crime. The slavers who are blatantly indiscreet in what they do. And those who bring wide scale destruction on a regular basis. Those are the ones I?m willing to pay you whatever it takes to bring them down. Unless you have a bunch of those names in that black book that you?ve brought, I?m not really happy about my return on investment thus far.

?Make me happy, Monsieur D?Mourir. You make me happy, and my payments will make you happy. It?s all very simple.?

Lord Stefan stood there, watching the conversation taking place, waiting for the mental command of Master Longden to bring this meeting to an abrupt end. It would be easy for a detective to suddenly disappear from the realm, and he was sure it would not be the first time such a thing happened. Would the Count permit the kill, or would there be ?dungeon work? first. It was difficult to say which Stefan preferred more ? each had their own rewards.

He glanced over at Lord Dupres and sensed he was thinking along the same lines. Neither of them saw the need for this man to be in the Count?s employ.

They waited to be used.

From the day Alain arrived in RhyDin, even when he was a two-bit smuggler, he began building a network of contacts - informants and allies that could be bribed, blackmailed, or otherwise persuaded to give him what he needed. It wasn't just his instincts or his stubborn streak that always got the job done - it was a matter of knowing the right people.

He accepted the cigar with a faint smile and lit it. Tara - the Count had hit the nail right on the head. The ex-wife seemed to like him a great deal, and while he was wary of indulging it, he was only too happy to put her high opinion of him to good use.

The subtle threat of violence from the two henchmen did not escape Alain's attention, but he smoked and enjoyed himself as if the atmosphere had never even been dangerously tense, which was only moments ago. Tracking killers and dealing with dangerous men so much in his line of work, Alain swore he could smell it when a man's fingers itched for a hilt or a trigger.

"Dessert sounds delightful," he replied to Talomar. "I'm glad fruit's finally coming back in season - you can get anything in RhyDin, but sometimes food from offworld just isn't the same." He was not a gentleman of leisure himself, but he knew the behavior too well from his family, so he directed the conversation towards business assets. "Do you own any orchards yourself?"

Alain tucked the check away into the black book and smiled pleasantly as he stood. "It was a wonderful evening, Monsieur Longden - I shall have to treat you next time." However much he'd prefer control of the environment upon their next meeting, he did not go into it any further than that subtle remark.

His mind wanted to work out the numbers already given Talomar's check, but he reminded himself he was not technically out of the woods yet. "Thank you for dinner... Enjoy the rest of your night."

He smiled, and exited past Mr. Dukette.