The address Thomas had given to the Keeper lead her to an average two story walk up apartment building in an area of the main Domain of Sacramento in an average neighborhood away from the glitz of the downtown bars and clubs but still with the charm of the city. There are a few neighborhood bars, a lot of cafes and other signs that it's the type of area full of young professionals, people who have yet to make connections to the world. Standing outside the building, leaning against a wall next to the entrance and reading a book with his left hand is Thomas.

It was on schedule. Martha seemed to look like she knew where she was going. Limping badly along, making full use of her cane, Martha tries to dodge between pedestrians and wandering commuters. Smiling meekly to herself...pausing occasionally to let someone go ahead of her, or stop to observe a shop window or a passing automobile...Martha pays close attention to a careful highway safety drill when crossing the road too.

As she approached it is possible for Thomas to more clearly see Martha is dressed very modestly in her usual a calf length black gymslip, black school blazer (absent of any insignia upon the breast pocket), school style satchel and straw boater hat. A neatly knotted gents standard issue red necktie and a crisp white blouse. Neat white socks (probably kneesocks, but it's hard to tell due to the length of her tunic) peek from the hem of her gymslip - sensible black shoes round out the look. Approaching Thomas she offers a very friendly smile, a swift look at the title of the book and a brief hint of a curtsy. “Good evening, sir! I hope you are feeling better! I hope I am not too late, or kept you waiting long!”

Thomas looks up from the book, F. Scott Fitzgerald's 'The Great Gatsby', with a friendly and engaging smile towards the keeper."Nope, not at all." He slides the book under his right arm and holds it against his body to keep it from falling to the ground. His left hand fishes into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys that he uses to unlock the front door, which he holds open for Martha. "My place is down stairs on the basement level" he says as he offers his left arm to help her get down the stairs.

Smiling, Martha nods. Happy, she looks around the street...as if worried about something, then - after helping close the door behind her - she gently accepts the offered arm...sniffing the air ahead, perhaps on some instinct, she pouts a little...gets her cane ready and holds closer to Thomas, her pout turning apologetic as she limps badly down the steps...her leg rigid at the knee and uneven in step from the hip . "Thank you, sir." she offers meekly at the assisstance, all wide eyed and...very humble."you are kind." Martha looks about the stairs and is paying attention to scents and aromas and decor within.

He laughs slightly and smiles at the petite woman "Nah just a guy who the United States Government, showing it's lack of wisdom, once declared me a gentleman." His words betray a self-deprecating sense of humor rather a lack of faith in his own nature, as does the grin that his smile becomes. Thomas leads Martha down the stairs and to an apartment door, breaking their arm lock for a moment to slide a key into the door's lock and then open it. He holds the door open for Martha. It opens into the main common/living room of the place. The inside of the apartment looks clean and rather Spartan, there is a small kitchen and dinning room off to the right, and a closed door off to the left of the main room. The main room itself contains a table with three chairs around it, a small sofa, a couple of bookshelves that look full and a small flat screen TV with a simple DVD player next to it.

Martha, hearing his reply about kindness makes a deduction, nods to herself...smiles to Thomas, meekly...almost submissive:"You were an officer in the Federal armed forces, sir? Might I please ask: under whom did you serve, sir?"she asks, sounding sincerely impressed and interested. Martha had made full use of his help down the stairs..her looks around is careful, not not judgemental...as if assessing the layout for hazards to her activity. Nothing in it seems to alarm her, rubs at her lame hip as she hooks her cane under an arm, listening to anything Thomas has to say.

"I'm not young but the Federals and Confederates were a little before my time." There is more than enough space in the living room for Martha to look around if she wishes to. Most of the books on the shelves are either Occult related, mostly about ghosts and hauntings, or history related. There are also DVDs, most of which are related to those same fields, with most of them being documentaries or movies about World War 2. "I was in the Army and it's pretty easy to guess when." He laughs.

 "I do beg your pardon, sir...I meant no offence." Sincere in her apology, Martha falls very quiet as she hobbles about looking at the book titles, nodding to herself meekly, her leg dragging. Frowning to herself and rubbing harder and harder at her lame leg, she studies the titles in a stoney silence. After just less than eight minutes of careful and silent scrutiny of the books on the Second World War the college uniform clad creature turns and primly executes a respectful curtsy to Thomas. "I am here to help you, sir, and therefore at your command." she offers very carefully and respectfully.

 "No offense taken at all, Martha. I served as an Officer in the United States Army during the Second World War." He moved towards the Keeper and offered to assist to a comfortable seat on the sofa if she wished it.

Martha smiles meekly and allows herself to be led to the sofa, taking the offered seat with as much grace as she can muster. Wide eyed and obedient. Resting her cane by her side and smoothing out her ankle length gymslip, she fiddles, some how, with her lame knee to enable it bend it out of the way, tucking her lame leg under her working limb to create a demure posture. Smiles meekly to Thomas. "I should be interested to know your rank, sir...if I may ask...and...your theatre of operations. Though I shall understand if you decline from answering...I am merely curious and oughten be indulged, sir."

Thomas thought for a second, the good thing about being in the Shadows was that nobody really took an interest in you. Everything about Martha screamed helpless but Thomas knew that she was not only a Kindred but also a Shadow and thus the furthest thing from helpless. A helpless Shadow does not earn the position of Keeper. The decision he has to make with her, as he moves over to grab the .45; the cleaning kit and a few rags, is - can she be trusted. As he returns and places the disassembled weapon on a table in front of the sofa and takes a seat himself, he decides to take a chance. "I started off as a Second Lieutenant, got promoted to First Lieutenant and ended the War as a Captain. I served in the First Infantry Division in the European Theater of Operations."

Hearing this tiny Martha nods, struggles to her feet, leaving her cane for a moment, she nods and presents a neatly executed curtsy to Capt. Thomas O'Conner. "An honour, Captain. Thank you." She waits to be invited to sit again.

Thomas just has a pleasant laugh, "As you were, Ms. Villiers, as you were. You can also call me Thomas, it's been a long time since I've been called Captain O'Connor." As he gets everything sorted out on the table he looks at Martha with a friendly smith. "So what about yourself, Ms. Villiers, tell me something about you."

"Thank you, Captain!" Her English voice filled with respectful glee, Martha retakes her seat, performing the same bashful trick with her knee as before. As she talks, Martha takes off her blazer, neatly folding it at her side, and rolls up the sleeves of her white cotton blouse - and begins to look over the parts of the disassembled 1911 on the table in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, tiny Martha begins to gingerly pick up each part of the 1911 in turn and inspects each part very carefully with apparent inexpertise: but attentive care all the same. "Well, sir: I enjoy reading as much as you do it seems!" she giggles happily. "I always have enjoyed reading...and playing the piano!"

"Oh, forgot something." Thomas gets up and moves over to what looks to be a hamper in next to the apartment's bathroom, he pulls a couple of beat up old shirts and large OD blanket out of bin, and returns with them. He puts one of the shirts and the blanket on where he'd been siting on the sofa and then hands Martha one of the shirts. "The cleaning oils are impossible to get out, I'd recommend you put this on over what you're wearing and then we'll use the blanket to cover our legs. I would really hate for your pretty outfit to be ruined by a fool like me." He smiles at the young woman before slipping the other shirt on over what he was wearing.

Martha smiles...she clearly liked the idea of his words, nodding in agreement, she obediently does as she is told. "Thank you kindly, sir! You are no fool, I can see that!" she giggles merrily,"But...you should know, sir, I fully intend to do all I can for you this evening...I should feel most upset if I am not put to even the most menial task that might help you in some way!" a sincere nod and bashful smile as she adjusts her boater hat to put on the spare work clothes.

The blanket is adjusted over the two Mekhet on the sofa and Thomas begins to separate the individual pieces of the weapon and explaining what each of them were and their function. Mainly he asks Martha to hold the items while he does the actual cleaning but a couple of times he holds the part and lets his fellow Shadow have a chance to work her cleaning magic. Eventually he even talks about something unrelated to the weapon. "So how are you enjoying the new job?"

Martha falls very quiet as she sees her offer of wider help isn't remarked upon. Making her own judgement about that, Martha instead listens very attentively to the explanations and insights offered by Thomas about the 1911. Not once does she interupt. She has very nimble fingers and equally strong hands - certainly those of a pianist - and she seems only too happy to put them to work on Thomas' behalf.

As he raises the issue of the duty she smiles, nodding happily. "Ah! It was an unexpected assignment, sir! I cannot fathom why the Prince selected me above others for the role. But, regardless of his intentions and motives - which it is not appropriate for me to speculate upon: it is a role and office I hope I shall fulfill with careful dilligence! I have no wish to fail the Prince; the other Officers of Court...my fellow Kindred...nor, for that matter, myself! However, to answer you, sir: I am enjoying it very well though, thank you for asking!" she pauses to reflect a moment, asking, with some obvious worry; "Why, sir: do you feel I should be doing something in the role I am currently neglecting?"

 "I honestly think you're doing a great job and it's certainly a role that you have the personality for. I am glad to see that you are enjoying it." The woman was friendly, welcoming, fashionable and eager to please, in short - to Thomas - she was an ideal Keeper of Elysium. "It's nice to be greeted by a smiling face whenever I stop in to Avalon."

Martha seems pleased by this assessment and smiles merrily."Thank you, sir! Your own Requiem and activities must keep you busy too, sir, I dare say! Do you occupy your evenings with any activity beyond all others, might I ask?"she smiles happily, and waits further command regarding the weapon or other household tasks.

Thomas thought about his evenings and nights, most of which were rather boring compared to the nights of the Bypass fight and the Blood Hunt. "A little bit of everything, whatever happens to tickle my fancy. I guess my nights will be a little bit busier now that I'm the clan Whip."

Martha nods at this, wide eyed as she takes in the information and gives it thought."I see...goodness, well: congratulations on that role, sir! I certainly hope I never have to be punished by you, sir!"She rubs hard at her knee joint, looking at the parts of the weapon, then Thomas...then looks around the Haven. Trying to see if she can be useful in anyway.

Thomas laughs "I'm afraid that you have the wrong idea about the role, it's mainly to keep members of the clan working towards goals that will benefit us all and present as united a voice as possible on issues. Any whipping to be done by myself would be completely in an unofficial and personal capacity. Besides I thought that in this city a whipping was pretty much how they welcomed the new members of the Domain and not a punishment." He grins at the joke.

Martha is too staggered by her foolish error; his laugh and the possible thought of the 'new comer whipping ritual' - part of her could imagine the ritual...she'd heard of the Asylum club and other places like it nearby...it seemed: almost plausable. Martha rubs hard at her lame knee, watching Thomas wide eyed. "But...but...goodness...truly? No one has whipped me yet... surely you are teasing me, sir!"

Thomas looks at Martha and gives her a friendly smile. "Only teasing of course, I'm sure that such things take place over at Asylum but I am not really part of that whole scene and have no intention of whipping anyone, especially not a person I consider a friend." He lets the remark hold in the air for a second. "I was merely making a joke at both the popularity of certain activities and the often misunderstood position of Whip. In fact if you have any concerns about the Clan please feel free to express them to me."

Martha, pleased at his comments, rubs at her knee and nods happily...smiles too. "Thankfully, I have no concerns for the moment, sir." she looks, all eager, about the room again, then asks;"Is there any other way in which I can be helpful, sir...once we have re-assembled your firearm at least!"she asks, all cheery.

"Well once the weapon is fully cleaned and re-assembled you will have fulfilled our agreement and I'm managing well enough in other areas that I wouldn't need to trouble you anymore." If most of the other women he knew had said something like that he might have made the assumption that they were making a pass at him. However this was Martha and she seemed to have been transferred to this time from Victorian or Edwardian London, so the offer of assistance probably was just an offer of assistance. The Mekhet wondered why that somewhat disappointed him as he spoke again. "You're more than welcome to stay for awhile and talk or gossip if you don't have any other plans tonight."

Martha blinked a bit, listening to the reply...as if sulking as she hears she is no longer needed; then brightening up as she hears she can stay and talk! All smiles, she nods eagerly, clapping her hands in glee; "That sounds a very splendid thing, Captain! Very splendid, most delightful! I should welcome your company, sir! I look forward to conversation!"

Martha smiles. Rubs hard at her lame knee and awaits to follow instructions, to the letter, and to obey commands...