Long hard road

"I believe the Gray Lady once held official decree. That was several Princes ago, though. She's... deteriorated, since then."

Bergman continues to stare at Lillian, rather awkwardly.

"The Illuminous prefers that we pretend, to the court, that we are neutral. Unaligned, if you will. I hear rumours of our number infiltrating the other covenants, but only the Illuminous could comment on the veracity of these..."

"I see what you mean. Perhaps it is best I cover myself nonetheless and present myself. Intruding upon the territory of someone so venerable..."

Venerable. Sounded like he meant old and unstable.

"...is just never a good idea. Would it be in your knowledge how to reach her?" he pauses for a moment, tapping his lip. A human motion that he rehearsed, part of his Coil.

In the moment of pause he follows his gaze to Lililian, almost expecting her to have something in her face by the way he looked at her.

"Does my protege's presence disturb you?"

"Shall I step outside?" Lillian tries not to wilt under scrutiny and attention, maintaining her rod straight posture but unable to keep eye contact with the two Kindred.

"Oh, no." Bergman answers, sharply averting his gaze. "I'm simply curious. I've heard whispers of her abilities. I may have a proposition for you in the near future, but that is not mine to make at this juncture."

Bergman gets up and wanders over to his stuffed shelves. A tentative finger rests upon one of hundreds of spiral notepads. He plucks it out and squints at it. You catch a glimpse. It's all ciphered.

"Aha. Yes. It's said that the Gray Lady will treat with those who leave offerings." Bergman snaps the book shut, stuffing it back into the heaving bookcase.

"If you wish to reach her, I would advise you to leave her tribute at this address."

Bergman hands you a scrap of paper with a shakily scrawled address on it. He looks up, darkly, the pompous jollity gone from his crackling voice. "One of the kine should do. I'm told prospectives bleed on their offerings. So that she might track them down to parlay."

"Fascinating. I will do as you suggest." Anasztaz says, pocking the scrap of paper and bowing with both hands clasped before him.

"Now, before I depart, the matter of paying back for all this...?"

"Well... we've already mentioned the examination. I also require some surveillance done. I'll have to give you the details closer to the time of the task. Other than that, all I ask is for a favour owed. I'll be in touch." Bergman leers, turning his head towards the grainy monitor.

"You have mentioned it already, yes. I will come back to you on that, shortly." Anasztaz says, standing and throwing a glance to Lillian.

"Let's depart now, then. We have a fair bit of work ahead of us just to get started." he adds while keeping his gaze on her.

With that he helps himself out as far as he can, letting Victor open the cage and main door for him on the way.

"Ring a cab, please. We will go out for dinner. What do you fancy?"

"Sweet Georgia Brown, if it's your treat. Lillian had flipped the phone out from her purse, quickly hitting redial and calling for the cab. As soon as she'd finished talking she drops the phone back in to her purse, staring awkwardly out at the empty street and averting her gaze from Anasztaz.

"It is. We have much to talk. Tell me, do you have friends you'd rather do without?" Anasztaz asks, having trouble concealing a bit of a grin.

"This matter will take a lot of subtlety, and I am still somewhat out of my element. I will require your service on it."

"There's always someone looking to get protection money from my business or run me down but no one in particular. You can throw a rock and hit ten different people worthy of being six feet under in Detroit these days, er, nights. Whatever." Lillian crosses her arms, standing about awkwardly.

"All the better." Anasztaz says, but he leaves it at that. He knew the place could be under surveillance, and he didn't want to hint whoever might be eavesdropping of what he'd have to do.

When the cab arrives he boards it and as usual lets Lillian give the directions. He looks down at his old wrist-watch. It was one of the only pieces of garment that he wore that flat out looked masculine, even the suit on him looked dandy.

"1045 Brush Street." Lillian climbs in beside Anasztaz, clasping her hands on her knees and looking down. She isn't dressed for this, but had been dying to go since she heard about it.

The cab moves towards downtown Detroit, stopping in front of a plantation style house with a front porch. Men and women in designer clothes move inside, greeted by an honest-to-god house hostess. Lillian pays up the cab driver and hops out, quite aware she might just get turned away.

Anasztaz pays and steps out of the cab, removing the creases from his suit with the palm of his hand. He raises his head and takes a voluntary whiff of the evening's air. Here it was laden with food, but the soft scent beneath was unequivocal. Sticky and sweet decay.

"Table for two, please." he says as he reaches the host, trying to eclipse Lillian with his own slim frame. Futile, somewhat. But the effect was enough to grant him front-and-center as he let him own figurative sweet and sticky lure do what lacking a reservation had done.

Anasztaz rolled 9 dice to "Awe" 7,8,1,10,1,10,2,8,2,6,4 (4 successes)

"Hrm." the man clear his throat, looking at the ledger in an attempt to keep his eyes off him. "Did you have a reservation, Sir? We are quite busy tonight."

"I didn't have time to ring it in advance." Anasztaz says, shrugging nonchalantly. "I am sure you can accommodate us nonetheless?"

Anasztaz rolled 7 dice to "Manipulation + Persuasion" (no rerolls) (1s substracted) 3,7,6,6,2,4,10 (1 successes)

Not quite definite, but enough to make him give it a second look. He runs through the ledger once more and looks behind him to see how things looked, but people were piling up. That the persuasive stranger was with someone dressed hardly for the venue made the decision harder...

Anasztaz rolled 13 dice to "Entrancement" 7,5,1,2,5,10,7,2,8,7,1,4,1,1 (2 successes)
Host rolled 3 dice to "Resist" 4,10,5,4 (1 successes)

"You are making people wait. Perhaps it is best you sit us promptly so you can tend to them?" he asks, forcing his own lure further. It wasn't an easy contest, perhaps he was out of it from such long sleep.

"Right this way." he says, sighing, moving them to a small table that had just been readied. Someone would have to wait in the lobby.

"Nifty." Lillian sits down at the table after pulling out her own chair. She looks around, appreciating the ambience.

"Doesn't offer much privacy for discussion." Thank God. She sets to looking at the menu, taking note of the drink selection first.

"On the contrary. Places like these are a haven for isolation. Were we being actively pursued, you can see how complicated it'd be for them to follow." Anasztaz says, looking at the carte and overpriced food with some sort of disdain playing in his face just briefly before it fades.

"Corporate executives meet in place like this to discuss grimmer matters. It is solitude in numbers. You just have to be subtle."

"Subtle.." Lillian looks up in time to see the waiter arrive and decides to make the most of the situation. She pauses at the menu, eager to test her boundaries with her new handler.

"Mm. Yes. A bottle of the Argyle Pinot Noir, the soup of the day and the deep fried lobster tails and a side of fried okra." Soul food at corporate prices, Detroit was pretending it wasn't in death throes. She looks over at Anasztaz as the waiter does, just as curious as to what he will order but in an entirely different way.

"I'll just have another cup. Not much of an appetite unfortunately." Anasztaz says, flashing another rehearsed smile that trailed until the waiter left.

"This is a treat, a small token of appreciation in advance. I need you to find a suitable candidate for me. Someone simple, someone boring, someone who hasn't had much attention."

He puts the napkin down on his lap, playing his part.

"I will take care of it once you have found someone suitable for me."

"Maybe I'll pay a visit to my old home." Lillian shrugs and leans back, meeting the gaze of anyone who would try to look at her and look down at her like she was a whore. If she was in New York, she might have just come off as eccentric. She keeps her eyes away from Anasztaz no matter what though, never risking a glance.

"Make it someone's special if you want. I don't care either way. Just make sure the candidate is not sickly, vice-ridden and otherwise unhealthy. We want to offer the position to a good candidate. Yes?" Anasztaz says, motioning to Lillian when the waiter asks whether they want to sample the wine.

"It is not an easy choice, but the requirements are simple to understand. Surely you can make out on your own the traits we'd favor. Needless to say, time is of the essence too."

"I'll get on it tomorrow." Lillian dismisses the offer to sample the wine with a wave of her hand.

"I'll try it along side the food, thanks." As soon as the waiter is out of earshot she shakes her head. "They never let the bottle breathe, just trying to appeal to foodies trying to look sophisticated." She looks over quickly at Anasztaz, clearing her throat.

"Trivial. My apologies."

"I didn't think of you the kind to either know or care. Interesting." Anasztaz says, noticing she was more sophisticated than her grunge looks would otherwise indicate.

"Is that lack of care you wear a mask? Or have the youth changed so since the last time I cared to try and notice it?"

"I'm not young. I only look young." Lillian seems determined to leave it at that, turning her head back to look for the waiter. Not spotting her food coming any time soon she relaxes back down.

"That is a fair point. You have watched over me for a long while, after all. Before that I know you were with our employer for a long time as well." Anasztaz acknowledges. How easy was to just assume mortals were as young as they looked.

He pours some of the wine in his cup and rolls it on the bottom, catching the scent. Sweet and pungent rot.

"But the point remains. Is this part of your cycle of reinvention? Remember. I am your judge now."

"Is it not part of your task to observe and diagnose, rather than asking outright?" Lillian continues her deflection, nearly squirming in her eagerness for the food to arrive and give her an excuse to break from this conversation.

"Part of knowing an individual is to see what they think of themselves. You're not the kind to talk about it on your own, that much I can tell." Anasztaz says, leaning back and flashing a creasing a strange smirk at her. She had guts, and a problem with discipline. Not a good combination.

"I haven't had the chance to know you, and now that we're in this together I guess I need the crash course."