The House Always Wins [Micha]

The Greektown casino looms over you. The flashing lights and obnoxious sounds poke at your beast while people pass you by along the sidewalk. From here you see row upon row of garish slot machines spewing noise and multicoloured light across the slack faces of kine sat on their ass as they feed the Regent's machine.

Spoiler:

You hear the gypsy cab drift off. As your senses adjust to the audiovisual chaos, you notice a few things. Firstly the casino interior is adorned with many reflective surfaces. Secondly the cameras, half orbs set into the ceiling. Seems like it would be hard for kindred to slip in unnoticed. Thirdly the sharp-dressed pitboss who glances furtively in your direction before making his way towards you, ear glued to a tiny cellphone.

The Mekhet was glad she'd had a chance to don her brunette wig before she entered the Kindred proof casino.

"Good evening, sir." She extended a silk encased hand towards the pit boss.
"Micha Chappelle."

The Pit Boss smiles warmly at you as he hangs up his phone. He's tall and confident, with the courtesy of a concierge, although his manner seems rushed.

"Evening there, Miss Chappelle. Welcome to the Greektown Casino. The proprietor's expecting you, so if you'd like to come with me..."

Polite. Micha had expected a lot of things, but polite was not one of them. It made her wonder at the ghouls' duties.

"Of course. Please, lead the way."

The Mekhet fell in step behind the employee, keen on seeing what other surprises were in store tonight.

The pit-boss leads you past the slots and check-in through a bustling dining area. You notice a burly bouncer tailing you as you're taken through a set of double doors through a steamy kitchen. Two chefs argue with each other in Greek, goaded on by a fat Texan. Past the kitchen, a narrow stairwell, through an unlit room containing a bank of monitors surveyed by a small man to whom your beasts react. The bouncer stays in the monitor room, while the pit-boss operates a small elevator at the end of an institutional-grey corridor lined with maintenance closets and anonymous looking rooms.

The elevator ascends with a churning, mechanical din before stopping at a cinderblock corridor with a low ceiling. You're led to an office at the end. The turk sits behind a large desk before a laptop, slightly dishevelled. He doesn't stand as you enter. The pit-boss is gone. He looks up from his laptop at Micha.

Elevator security is optimum here, Micha wonders. She is curious about it, glancing around for signs of observation or defense in place.

"Good evening." Micha greets, moving to a comfortable speaking distance and remaining standing. "Thank you for receiving me. I am Micha Chappelle, childe of Elder Lord Notary Ezra Rosietto, childe of Alder Lady Notary Mariel Versailles, childe of Alder Earl Erland Aderres; of the Mekhet; Lady Notary of the First Estate. I come with my brother Mr. Alexander McCairn and our Torpid brother, former Priscus and Master of Elysium of St. Louis. I entreat you for permission to reside in your Domain with our herd and blood bound associates.

I would be humbled to offer my investigative skills honed as a former sheriff to assist with the territory. I would be pleased to be able to offer blood tax for the privilege of residing in your Domain."

She nods respectfully.

Alexander stood silently stock still in his white suit. He didn't actively try to hide but far too many years of practice meant that he managed to almost fade into the background, especially when paired with his beautiful attention grabbing sister. Instead he watched, his deep dark eyes noting all before them. He saw the players in the casino as they passed and noted each one carefully. He considered the games that they played and the control they had lost.

Passing through the kitchen he memorised, unthinkingly, the arguement, he might translate it later if he was bored. He stands silent in the lift, counting the seconds silently to try and work out how many floors they had ascended and follows his sister down the hallway. He bows stifly to the man behind the desk as his sister speaks.

He regards the pair of you, in the dim light of bank upon bank of monitors displaying parts of the casino with crystal clarity. That is, with the exception of a few vaguely people-shaped blurs standing post. The Regent appears middle-aged, with frown-lines and a receding hairline complementing a jowly face.

"Yes, the Seneschal's man told me as much. You two are blooded? I see. I am the Baron Mansur. You may address me as such. You seek citizenship in my Barony."

The incurious question is warped into more of a statement, which hangs in the air for a second. He gazes to his right, out over the skyline, then turns to face the pair of you.

"Under Seneschal Al-Misri's advisement, I am prepared to offer you provisional residency on conditions of my choosing. I intend to allow you to remain under a grace period, in which I advise you keep a clear calender, on condition of a somewhat specific piece of red rent which I desire. Should you weather this grace period, and procure rent for me, I shall grant you full rights."

His eyes settle on Alexander.

"Is he released?" he asks, idly.

[Micha roll Presence+Expression, Everyone roll Wits+Composure]

"We are grateful for the provisional residency, Regent. May we inquire as to the specific rent?"

" The childe that my Sire's co sanginous sister Embraced last week is under our tuteledge. His education will be continuing fluidly."

Spoiler:

Micha notices that the Baron's reflection is conspicuously absent in the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Greektown, while her own reflection is a hunched smear. Mansur's expression sours.

"You may not. Not at this time. I was referring to him."

He gestures towards Alexander, curtly. You hear an abrupt buzz cut through the humming hardware that fills the office.

[Micha roll Int+Occult at -1]

Spoiler:

The Mekhet noted the reflections silently. She glanced towards her silent companion for a moment, pausing in case he would wish to speak.