marc.

[Marc de Vogue] He had been told to seek Lukas out. The young aristocrat was not to sure of what to expect. A full moon, leader of the sept's ahrouns and Lady Katherines alpha. Marc had a high opinion of himself, but he also knew what he was not, which is a warrior. A part of him wonders exactly what a full moon could use him for, toher then target practice. Another part of him were set to make the best of it. It would be an interesting meeting at least.

The sleek silver bullet of a car pulls up next to the loft and the tall kinsman gets out, moving to the door to ring the bell. Despite the worried thoughts, there is a notable self-confidence and ease to his steps. At 6'4, the lean young kin made a strong impression, with clear blue-green eyes and blonde hair.

He rings the bell of the door and waits, his lower lip caught between his teeth in a thoughtful expression. A glance to the car, and then his focus is back on the door where it should be.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The Loft isn't really a packhouse, and Lukas doesn't live here. He comes here frequently nonetheless -- mainly to make use of the rumpus room upstairs and the enormous pool downstairs. It's the latter today. More laps than he can count, steady, tireless. He's getting better: he can tell. Faster. His form more perfect. His muscles ache less the next day. He's almost catching up to Sinclair.

Lukas is in the kitchen now, though, his thick hair still dripping onto the shoulders of his swim robe, his skin smelling faintly of poolwater. He should take a shower, but he's hungry now. He's fixing himself a sandwich when the doorbell rings. The Ahroun doesn't even look up as he yells, "Should I get that, Lucille, or have you got it?'

The reply is unintelligible, coming from some distant corner of the Loft. Lukas finishes spreading pesto sauce on his toast, sets the butterknife down, and leaves wet footprints all the way to the front door.

Which swings suddenly open as Lukas opens it from within. It's a rare thing for Lukas to meet someone eye to eye, but this he does with Marc. They're of a height. That's where the similarity ends. The kin is lean, elegant, fair. The Garou is robust, powerful, dark.

Also, he's in swim trunks. And a swim robe. This is probably not how Marc envisioned himself meeting "Lady Katherine's" Alpha, and the supposed warmaster of the Sept: with the Ahroun half-naked and dripping visibly -- if sporadically -- on Lady Katherine's hardwood floor. He looks at Marc, recognizes his breeding, and makes the immediate assumption: "I'm afraid you'll have to come back later if you're looking for Kate. She's not here at the moment."

[Marc de Vogue] It is something of a surprise for the kin as well. Since coming here, he had rarely seen someone that could meet his gaze evenly, eye to eye instead of looking up at him. It makes his brows raise just slightly, but his lips curve up in a smile.
“I see, but pardon me monsieur, I am looking for a man named Lukas.”

The rage coming from the man before Marc is as strong as any as the kin has encountered in the city. It sets his nerves on fire, but the kinsman's reaction is not to step back or shrink from it. On the contrary, it seems to stiffen his back just a little, eyes widening just slightly and makes him draw in slow, controlled breaths, exhaling slowly.

He lets his gaze drop down, and then rise up again, taking in the Ahroun before him from top to toe and back, and he doesnt even try to hide the slight added upturn to his lips. If it is because of appreciation of the man before him, or because he is dressed in trunks, robe and dripping water? Well that is for Lukas to decide for himself.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "That's me," the ice-eyed creature replies. "Which makes you Marc de Vogue. Kate mentioned you. Come on in."

He steps back from the door. If he's put off by Marc's once-over, he doesn't mention it. More likely he's not put off. Possibly such things don't even register as important anymore. Rage burns a lot of things away.

He shuts the door after the kinsman is inside, locking it, gesturing the guest toward the kitchen. "I'm fixing myself a sandwich. I'm sure Kate won't mind if you helped yourself. There's bread in the box, turkey and seven kinds of vegetables in the fridge."

If Marc's been here before, he'll remember its vast minimalism: the pale woods, the glass, the smooth tile and bare concrete. The kitchen is a modern thing of sleek fixtures and bright lights. They gleam off Wyrmbreaker's black hair, and sheen off the shoulders of his cotton-lined swim robe. In a few efficient gestures he finishes his sandwich, puts the top on, slices it diagonally and transfers both halves to a plate.

Then he takes it and leans back against the counter, relaxed, owning the air around him with his sheer presence. His eyes are level and steady; piercing in their color, but not in their intensity. Not right now, anyway.

"So, Kate mentioned you're looking to contribute to the cause. Would you mind if I asked what your skills are; your profession?"

[Marc de Vogue] He nods, watching Lukas closely. So Kate had told him Marc would seek him out. An idle thought, wondering what else she had told her alpha. Not that it mattered much now. He followed the other to the kitchen. He remembers the place well enough since his last visit, and his attention is full on the Ahroun in front of him.
“Merci, but I am not hungry.”

He does however take position to lean against the counter opposite from Lukas, gaze on the man. Even with his rage, with what Lukas is, the kin still meets that gaze evenly. Lukas might suspect the kin could be strong-willed enough, or perhaps just bold enough to do so even if that gaze held sharpness or anger.
“Oui... I told her that I wanted to help if I could. As for what I can help with?”

He gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, then tilts his head a little.
“I am afraid my experience of battle stretches to quail hunting, and fencing class at Oxford. My talents lie elsewhere.”
He falls quiet for a moment, thoughtful expression passing his features.

“I am trained to manipulate, to charm and to gather information, as well as sway people to my cause, whatever that may be. I do not know how much use it would be against the...”
He makes a motion of his hand.
“The fallen tribe, but against their kin or human influences, I might be of use.”

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] A quick grin passes over Lukas's face, momentarily illuminating and lightening those features that are better termed harsh; stern; proud. "I wouldn't expect you to fight," he says, laughing. "Glory and death are my job, and to be frank, my job isn't enough to turn the tide. The age of the warrior and the conqueror is over. We can't just burn them down and expect them to give up.

"Kate's probably told you about the Hive in the north. She probably hasn't told you that a few years ago, this Sept managed to kill their Hive Elder. Tore the beating heart right out of their center. Three, four years later, you'd never even know it'd happened. Their hold over Elk Grove is stronger than ever. Killing one Dancer, no matter how powerful, does nothing. His infrastructure, his powerbase, his allies and his contacts, all that amorphous social, political and economic power he held -- they stayed right there, passing on to the next Dancer to wear his crown.

"We can't ignore the human world this time. Our last assault up there succeeded as well as it did because the kinfolk pulled strings and shut the Wyrm down legally while we tore them apart physically. That's how we need to fight this war. We need to fight them hand to hand, but we also need to infiltrate and erode the power base of the Wyrm's influences, and we need to secure victory through social, legal and economic channels after the dust has settled.

"That's your job. So tell me, as specifically as you can: what sort of information can you gather for me? What strings might you be able to pull? And what social spheres are you most comfortable in -- high society-type dealings?"

[Marc de Vogue] In truth, Kate had told him none of this, so the kin listens, attention fixed on the dark creature before him, explaining what had happened, and what needed to happen this time around. It is clear the young aristocrat is intrigued, possibly as much by the Ahrouns seeming understanding of intrigue and politics, as his grasp of tactics. He had no doubt the other was destined for a glorious and bloody death. It was what they did best after all. Fighting and dying.

Once the question swings back to Mar, the kin takes his time before responding.
“I am best dealing with those removed from street level... Bureaucrats, civil servants and high society, if there is such a thing here.”

The kinsmans smile seems to explain his doubts that there would be such a thing as high society in the States. And for one raised in a Silver Fang court in the old country? Perhaps that was true.

“I know how to deal with such people, to make them do as needed, including sharing information normally kept secret. You would be surprised how easily some people become relaxed with a lover or a confidant with a willing ear. I can also blend in quite well if needed. While appearing as a fop with his nose in the air tends to make people underestimate you, I do know the value of getting dirty in order to breach circles that would not favor a higher class of people.”

Marc suddenly pushes from his perch, moving towards the breadbox.
“I think I will have a sandwich after all.”

His gaze alternating between Lukas and the food as he starts to prepare it for himself.
“Can I get you another?”
A nod to the bread as he makes a sandwich with turkey and cheese for himself.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] Another quick flicker of humor. "Oh, there's high society here. On the east coast there's blood and politics and the age of your name all twisted in, but out here it's mostly just money. That doesn't make it any less treacherous."

A shake of his head -- he still has half his sandwich left. While Marc makes himself one, Lukas eats his, lounging leonine and unspeakably, animalistically confident against the counter. When the last bite is gone, he sets the plate down, going to snag his iPhone off a basket for keys and phones and other accoutrements of modern life. Scrolling through his contacts list, he begins to jot down numbers and names.

"I'm going to give you the contact information of my mate and two of my kin. Dani&+269;ka is talented with computers and science. Jesmond is a nurse by profession, and she knows quite a bit about the occult as well. Ray is a corporate shark, plain and simple. He's not very happy with me right now -- private business involving a girl -- but I think he's still devoted to the cause.

"They all played pivotal roles in securing the Church a few months ago. I think they might be organizing some basic survival- and skill-training right now, which they'll probably be happy to include you on. I'm also going to give you the information for one of your fellow kinsmen, a William Talbot, who has ties in business, and a kinswoman of some repute in this area. Her name's Imogen Slaughter. She's Fianna by blood, Fenrir by mateship, but it's best to consider her on terms of her considerable sway in law enforcement. Forensics, to be specific."

The tip of the pen taps for a moment. Then he adds another name.

"This is a Galliard of my tribe." Mila, he writes, and then a phone number. "She's managed to eke out a reasonably successful career in music. She might be able to introduce you to the wheelers and dealers of society in this city."

He tears the slip of paper free, passes it to Marc.

"Get in touch with them. Reinforce each other's networks. We'll need them sooner or later, and in the meantime -- work on bolstering our holdings: Hill House, the Brotherhood, the Church." He thinks for another moment. "Ray's been looking into Whole Heart Farms, too. They were delivering tainted food to the Elk Grove Community Center before we shut them down and turned the center over to the Church. Whole Heart Farms is still out there, though, and we don't know enough about them to act on them yet."

[Marc de Vogue] Marc busies himself with his sandwich, eating it and listening. When Lukas mentions Ray, his brows raise slightly, and there is an almost amused smile.
“Yes, I have heard of Ray. I take it he was not happy that you removed his access to his playmate, the Fianna metis?”

A slight shake of his head. At least the Shadow Lord seemed to be keeping track of his kin, but surprisingly, it seemed as if the Silver fang kinsman had some inside information regarding that as well.

He takes the offered note after having listened to the instructions, nodding.
“It sounds as if we have everything needed to secure a hold of influences to counter whatever the others use, by that description alone.”

The sandwich finished, Marc glances over the note, then pockets it. He will transfer it to his phone later.
“I will reach out to them. See where I can put myself to best use.”
His gaze resting on the Ahroun, considering him, or perhaps his instructions.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The Ahroun's black eyebrows flick up faintly. "People talk," he remarks.

And, "That's certainly the hope. Though I won't turn anyone away. Redundancy isn't a bad thing when it comes to influence."

He nods, then, dusting the last crumbs off his hand against the smooth shell of his swim robe. "Good. I'm going to be involved with shaping the Garou of the Sept up over the next few weeks. When that's out of the way, I might call the kin together to see where we stand on Whole Heart Farms and other human-world issues. If that happens, I'll be sure you know."

He holds his hand out, then. This is the first time they'll shake hands: at the end of their meeting rather than at the beginning. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance," Lukas says.

[Marc de Vogue] “They do, if you know how to listen.”
The only thing the young kinsmand did better then making people give over their secrets? Was making Garou do the same. He is well aware of the weapon that his blood and presence can have on the shifters, and trained to use it.

“I look forward to it. It was... an interesting pleasure meeting you Lukas. Surprisingly so.”
He takes the offered hand. He cannot match the others strength, but he does not shy from the grip or the touch, firm in the late handshake.


“I will be available, if you have need to reach me. Lady Katherine has my number.”

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] The truth is, Lukas's grip is firm and warm, but not crushing. There's no evident attempt to dominate there; to subjugate or to break. It's a handshake. That's all.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says, and releases the other's hand. "I'm going to go do a few more laps. I'm sure Kate won't mind if you stick around and have another sandwich." A quirking smile, "Or play her Playstation 3 upstairs.

"If you're taking off, though, I'll see you later."

[Marc de Vogue] ”I think I will remain for a while, if you do not mind. I have no pressing business to attend tonight. Perhaps the Lady herself will grace us with her presence.”
The kin’s lips curve up in a small smile.
“I think I will help myself to a drink. Do you want one?”

Said as he turns to the fridge to search out a bottle fo water if there is one, or possibly some toher chilled non-alcoholic beverage for himself.

[Lukas Wyrmbreaker] "Water," he replies. There are indeed bottles in there. There are always bottles of water in the fridge; Kate doesn't drink from the tap. Ever. Lukas holds his hands up, motioning for Marc to toss the bottle. When he does, the Ahroun catches it solidly, then tips it in a small salute.

"Catch you after the swim," he says, and turns to head back into the pool room.