[Lukas] At 8pm, Cecil finds Lukas finishing his dinner in the common room. The scent of herb-rubbed rack of lamb lingers in the air. There are a few ribs scattered on the plate; a few uneaten potatoes. Every scrap of meat has been devoured.
His knife and fork are at 4 o'clock on the plate. He wipes his mouth and his fingers as he sees the kinsman coming up the stairs; folds his napkin once and tosses it over the plate.
"Cecil Smith, I presume?" When Lukas stands, he is quite tall; six four, easily. His hair is black and his eyes the sharp, pale blue of a rare diamond. He holds his hand out to shake, his manners and mannerisms flawless, effortless. If not for the rage crackling around him like a lightning storm, it would be hard to identify him as one of Gaia's half-breed children. "Lukáš Wyrmbreaker. Thank you for coming."
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil Smith. Not a man that sticks out in a crowd, in dark discreet clothing, light enough that he doesn't seem over dressed for such a hot summer day. He's not a terribly tall man, in his 40's, broad shouldered and slightly rangy with lean muscle. He moves down the stairs and approaches with a quiet practised confidence. An hand is shaken firmly. But he doesn't speak a greeting, merely nods and looks up at the man through his sunglasses. A quirk of lips in some semblance of a smile the closest to a pleasantry the man gives him.*
[Lukas] "Please," Lukas gestures Cecil to the sectional, around the bend and at right angles to where he retakes his seat.
"Agnessa mentioned she's rooming with you. I understand from her that you're mute. I apologize; I know nothing of sign language. I will try to keep my questions yes/no, but -- " he leans sideways to the end table, picking a notebook computer up by the corner and opening it on his lap, " -- you're welcome to type your answers if you want."
He opens up a simple ASCII text editor -- Notepad or the sort -- and passes the notebook over. It's a Thinkpad, thin and light, subdued and squared-edged, professional.
"Anyhow," settling back, "I saw from your note on the bulletin board that you're a 'professional cleaner' of inconvenient messes. I suppose as such your services are in great demand. Are you Garou exclusive?" He waits for a yes/no. "Do you accept contracts from other tribes, as a rule?"
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil sits and removes the shades, sweeping the room with brown eyes that seem to absorb the details of everything they light upon. No apology or reaction to the mention of him being mute, or Lukas's regret over not knowing how to sign.* mm. *He nods, though to what it is rather unclear, accepting the notepad computer and letting his fingers fly over the keys, his eyes flicking around every few seconds. Ever alert, our old kin. Perhaps how he's come to be so old.* I am exclusive to garou when the demand is high enough. Free to tribe of course. Others pay a fee. Silverfangs do not benefit from my services. *The computer is swivelled, and suddenly Lukas is the object of that scrutinizing gaze.*
[Lukas] A short laugh, surprisingly easy. "What's wrong with Silver Fangs?"
And, "What's your fee?"
[Cecil Smith] Non Lords pay $1000/ garou related crime scene OR $500 and an official favor owed to my warder for the privileged. Non nation prices begin at $5000 per room and go up. I will not work with or for Silverfangs. I will disobey an order to do so. *Het types, jaw set as he meets Lukas' eyes briefly in momentary challenge, before swivelling the computer back, and looking away respectfully.*
[Lukas] This time the laugh is a little quieter, little more than a huff. "I wasn't about to order you to do so. I was asking you what was wrong with Silver Fangs."
[Lukas] "In other words," Lukas adds a moment later, "why won't you work for Silver Fangs?"
[Cecil Smith] A strange question. They are unfit leaders. Weak figureheads. Mental infirmity and emotional instability. Rage for no reason and to no end. Better question is WHY assist them? Also, Having ones tongue cut out can make for an awful grudge. I would prefer to stay under radar, yes? *The curt hint of a smile, there and then gone again.*
[Lukas] Lukas listens until the end, but it's when Cecil mentions tongue cut out that his eyebrows twitch upward faintly, then settle.
"I see," is all he says on that matter. "All right; I'll be sure not to refer you to Silver Fang clientele. Now, as far as I know, you have no preexisting warder, guardian, mate or Garou companion in this city. Therefore, until further notice, I am your warder. But since you're apparently going to be generating favors for me, if you would like any of those favors passed on to you, you're welcome to suggest it to you."
Lukas waits a beat for questions, comments, before he continues.
"Agnessa also mentioned that some weeks back you were approached by three Garou -- Marcus, my packmate, Wahya, and Charlie -- about a cleanup job. Apparently both you and Agnessa were injured in that job, and neither of you were offered healing. What more can you tell me about this?"
[Cecil Smith] *Fingers fly over keys, even as Cecil scans the room once more.* Agnessa and I were to assist on a scouting mission of a street that had an altar of some sort, now suddenly ignored by Chicago. The garou were Marcus Two Ravens, Charlie, and Wahya. There was no shadowlord representation but for Nessa and myself. Possessed humans began streaming from buildings and attacking. I took a brick to the head, and a pipe to the spine. Nessa was attacked as well. We killed several of these humans, my specialized van unfortunately destroyed in the process. The garou passed into the umbra and left us as they dealt, presumably, with a spirit threat. Nessa passed out. I Limped van to dump, disposed of bodies in van and van itself. We take taxi to home. No other correspondence.
[Lukas] "I see." There's little reaction other than a faint knitting of the brow. Though perhaps a Shadow Lord kin would not see the difference -- "Were you asked to participate, or ordered?"
And, "Were either of you compensated in any way?"
[Cecil Smith] Asked. Yes. Triarii covered the cost of the clean up. I will be sending them a bill for the van as well. We will discuss that at length, mr. Ortega and I, should it be refused.
[Lukas] "Hang on; who are Mr. Ortega and Triarii?"
[Cecil Smith] Hector Ruiz Ortega. Glasswalker kin. Triarii is glasswalker company. I was on retainer following an earlier job that they payed for. *He stops typing and fishes out a card, offering it between two fingers. It is Hectors.*
[Lukas] "How were they involved? Did one of the Garou call them as well?"
[Cecil Smith] First job, Curata grim heart referred me to them for payment. I agreed to a temporary retainer.
[Lukas] "So in essence, you're now a contract operative for 'Triarii', rather than an independent cleanup man. Is that correct?"
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil raises a greying eyebrow and frowns* No. I have signed no contracts, nor committed myself to that company beyond the services I have already done for them.
[Lukas] "Do you anticipate signing on with them?"
[Cecil Smith] No. I prefer not to be an acknowledged employee of any corporation. It is a loose end that would need tied up were I to wish for anonymity later. I remain independent.
[Lukas] Lukas nods, seeming at last satisfied. Thus far, this 'meeting' must seem more like an interrogation.
"I ask these things," he says, "largely so I know how to frame our future interactions. I'm glad to have a kin of your skills in this city, and I have no wish to hoard you to myself. Even so, it is more convenient for me if you remained an independent agent, beholden to none but yourself -- and the tribe, naturally.
"I expect you've read the note I sent to you and the other kin of Thunder. I've made it known that all services requested of a Shadow Lord kin must come through me, but in practice, this is merely to prevent a Garou of another tribe bullying one of mine into doing something. If you're willing, there's no need to come to me for permission each and every time.
"That said, I do want to be informed if a Garou of another tribe requests your services. And I definitely want to know if you feel in any way threatened, bullied, or taken advantage of. I also expect the Tribe to be properly compensated, whether directly to you or through myself. If that fails to occur, let me know."
Lukas taps his fingers against his thigh for a moment, thinking. Then:
"In what happened with you, Nessa, Marcus, Wahya and Charlie, I feel that you and Nessa were somewhat unnecessarily endangered. Cleanup should be called after the battle, not before. I'm also quite certain the Tribe received no compensation, personal or otherwise. Am I right?"
[Cecil Smith] *He nods gruffly. The lack of healing was something of a stickling point for the older kin.*
[Lukas] "All right. I'll be speaking to the Garou involved. If anything of the sort happens again, notify me immediately."
There are no promises of reparations, of vengeance or retribution, or vindication. But then, Cecil is a Shadow Lord kin; has been one for forty some-odd years. Perhaps he doesn't expect anything.
Lukas adds, "Is there anything else I should know about that incident or any other?"
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil considers. Smooths his chin stubble a moment before shaking his head No. A curt smile.*
[Lukas] "Then," Lukas stands, "thank you for coming by on short notice, Cecil. I'm glad to make your acquaintance."
[Cecil Smith] *Cecil nods, his sunglasses unfolded carefully and put on his nose. He looks around the room once more, surveys Lukas a long moment, then raises his hand in a gesture of farewell. And he's off, striding with purpose toward the stairs. With the quickness of his departure, one might well get the impression he doesn't care for the brotherhood.*
celebration.
9 years ago