The interior of the Avalon is warm, quiet and still...the lighting subdued.

Tiny Martha was loitering near The Stairs in the foyer of the Avalon.

She stood there, alternating her attention from her book, "Chaos" by James Gleick, and The Stairs. She isn't far into the book, but its pages are festooned with slips of paper crammed with annontations.

She had made an effort with her appearance tonight. Twin tails in very neat bunches. Short red ribbons to tie each up. Her straw boater neatly brushes, her school gymslip is long and newly ironed and hides her legs to mid calf. To judge by her socks, she's probably wearing white kneesocks too. A satchel at her side and black blazer is worn too...a red neck tie neat with a crisp white blouse.

Minty toothpaste and newly applied lavender soap from her earlier bath. Her cane is held under one arm as she waits and reads.

Dillon can be heard plodding down the stairs at a measured pace, promptly on time. As he comes into view, he is still fiddling with a sleeve button on his suit, a variation of color from his court appearance. Instead of black and white, the blazer and slacks are sort of a deep bronze with a wine colored shirt and silver tie.

As he gets close to the last step, his lips are moving, as though he has song on his mind that's nearly bursting out. He looks up in pleasant surprise to see Martha there rather than her office. It said much about her.

Waiting until she turns her eyes up from the pages, he grins earnestly while he admires her choice of old-fashioned style. "Herald Villiers, you look magnificent! I hope I haven't kept you waiting long?"

Martha smiled warmly. His footsteps had her early attentions. She smiles again, much more meekly now, as his kind words. "Magnificent? Goodness me, sir! Such kind words! Might I say you look very dapper this evening too..and, no, sir...I haven't waited long. You are prompt, very noteworthy!" she folded her book closed, marking the page carefully, placing it into her satchel and getting her cane ready to use. "I do hope the evening finds you well, sir!" she asks, all eager and seemingly sincere. Her gestures are gentle, her tone of voice excited, but never loud.

"Getting better by the minute." He says with friendly mirth and another offer of his escorting arm. "I rarely have 'business calls' this enjoyable."

Martha smiles, his good nature is well received by her own friendly jollity, she limps slightly closer, clearly trying hard to hide her limp, and accepts the escorting arm. To her it is a well practiced action. A smile is offered with a shy giggle. With a gentle wave of her cane, to point out her office, she adds, "You are too kind, sir, but very gentlemanly, thank you! Shall we talk in my chamber, sir?"

"Certainly, ma'am." Once linked, Dillon heads in the direction of Martha's office. Only after they're en route does he consider the possibility that he should stick to calling her 'Herald Villiers.' She was the Prince's voice, after all. Even 'ma'am' could be considered too informal... But this being a private meeting, perhaps she'd let it slide.

He is careful to match speed, walking leisurely. As they reach the door, he would be quick to test the doorknob first, figuring even if the door had a lock she would leave in unbarred while she was in such close vicinity. If successful, he opens the door and remains outside for little Martha to enter first. Dillon Connery had been a Southern Gentleman even before he was a Yankee Soldier, and he made sure this stayed with him through the Embrace and all his years.

Martha's certainly happy with the manners on show so far. Nodding respectfully as she enters, smiles and gestures to beckon Dillon inside.

Her chamber is decorated with two prints. A modern, if large, photo of a ballerina in a tutu holding a ballet pose against a dark background and a large framed copy of John Waterhouse's 'Lady of Shalot.'

There is a tall Chinese screen erected in one corner of the room which conceals that part of her chamber. A fire extinguisher, a desk which is piled high with neatly stacked notes, books and school style notebooks. All look well used. Two book cases are against one wall. Both half full with pre-owned books. They look, at first glance, to resemble more textbook than fiction. There's a cheap looking laptop and printer too. A few chairs and a couch. A coat rack and a seat opposite her busy looking desk. The place, though busy with clutter, is clean and has the aroma of lavender.

Tiny Martha waves her hand in a friendly gesture. Inviting you to sit where you wish. "I regret I can offer you no vampiric refreshment, sir...but I can offer some ginger ale or tonic water, if you prefer..." she smiles meekly and rests hard on her cane. "Please be seated, sir!" she waits for Dillon to sit or remain standing before she says or does anything else.

Dillon smiles at the offer, but declines with an offhand "I'm fine, thank you, Herald Villiers." He picks a spot on the couch, perhaps an end close to Martha's desk, or generally in the middle of the room, to give her the option of sitting anywhere else and still maintain comfortable conversing distance. He remains leaned on his elbows for a moment, waiting to see if she will sit or not. "I do appreciate your hospitality though, ma'am." Crap, he did it again. "In some of the domains I have served, the Herald was nearly inaccessible as the Prince."

Martha stays standing for the moment, still leaning on her cane. But her eyes track Dillon's movement with interest. She smiles happily as she listens, smiling even more as he makes favourable remarks. Tiny Martha rubs hard at her crippled hip for a moment. "I see. Well, it is not my intention to be a recluse! I am interested, sir, in how many, and which, Domains you have had experience of...as a Courtier, that is. I am also interested, sir, in any questions you may have...and also, I should wish to hear a little about your travels, sir...and your work." a happy smile. Her hands and eyes are busy, the rest of her seems mostly at rest.

Dillon makes a serious show of checking his watch, saying in a low voice "Let's see, we still got.... seven hours?" He looks up through his eyebrows for a moment before his face splits into the iconic grin. "Kidding! Let's see. I have been involved -officially- most often with Chicago, Boston, New York, Atlanta, and many of the other prominent cities in the Eastern U.S." Then, as a quick explanation, adding a flop of his hand to assure later elaboration. "Gangrel, I forgot to mention. My Sire Adonia and I moved around a lot for many years. I settled in the Chicago area for... eh... thirty years or so?" At this, he finally leans back, trying not to look awkward sitting while his host stood. Maybe whatever ailed her leg made sitting uncomfortable, so he doesn't bring it up. The name Adonia puts a seriousness on his face that catches even him off guard a little. He's quiet for a moment as he remembers her, a bit of a wistful look in his eye. It isn't painful, however, so one could safely assume that she is still well.

"That's my most important recent history." Dillon says, pointing a finger up and wagging it slightly. "I served the Chicago Primogen as one of their Hounds. We worked closely with the Sanctum's local Inquisitor at the time, and he got me involved with the Church." The smile returns. "The rest of my escapades might be less relevant at the moment. But if you're ever curious about the 'old west' or the American Civil War, I'm an open book." He skips World War II; he'd spoken with mirth, and there was nothing mirthful about his experience there. He figures Martha may feel the same way, as it nearly ripped what he assumes is her home continent apart.

Martha listens, chuckles merrily at his joke and nodding often. As Dillon gets to mention of Chicago she begins to hobble over to the couch and begins to sit. She smiles, but her stiff leg clearly creates trouble, she offers a shy smile of apology and quickly brushes out her long gymslip to neaten up once sat down. Smiling once more, as if to assure that she meant no mischief by standing. "Most impressive, sir! The Old West, eh? Goodness me! That does sound most interesting! I should very much love to hear about your escapades in the Civil War too, sir! That is to say, if you can tolerate the endless questions I have about the War! You see, sir, and please forgive me if this sounds obscene: but I have made a personal study of the War and its operations!" her eyes are bright with sincere interest and enthusiasm. "Might I ask, please, which unit and formation you served with?" she leans close, rubbing hard at her stiff knee as she talks. All bright and eager.

“Nothing obscene about knowledge or study.” Dillon says with a smile and a wave of his hand to perish the thought. “Especially of wars. I've been a student for as long as I've existed.”

"Let's see..." He rubs at his jaw with a thumb and forefinger and looks up. Glancing back down, he offers a quick smile. "Mortal memories, you know how they can be. Eh... The First Regiment North Carolina Union Volunteers were officially formed in 1862. A bunch of men, young and old, who believed in the words of another man campaigning for the Senate in Illinois, that a house divided against itself could not stand.” His lopsided grin turns more jovial. “I always make it sound more romantic than it was. I mostly remember being scared to death pretty much the whole time.” He is trying hard not to sound like some sort of old battle-sage. He thought that would sound condescending coming from a hundred and a half year old vampire that looked like a young man of twenty or so.

Martha rubs at her stiff knee and seems entranced by the brief recollection and the tales it seems to promise, "Goodness me, sir!" she seems impressed. "I daresay you gave a good account of yourself! I should think any sane man encountering combat has every right to be fearful. I should wish, if I may, to talk about your service in more depth at another time!" she adds a humble and respectful nod to Dillon. "North Carolina, eh? Hmm...well, sir...California is a fair jaunt from there. I should be asking what your immediate plans are now you are in Sacramento!" a happy smile now as she rubs harder at her leg. "I perceive you to be a man of courage, determination and resource...not to say intelligence. Such a collection of traits would prepare you well for the Requiem...so, might I hear, please, sir, of your longer term plans, objects and schemes?" she leans closer, as if to encourage the idea that he can confide in her.

Dillon easily maintains the friendly grin, so much about Martha, her eagerness, kind words, and disposition just made him wanna keep smiling. "Ah, thank you, ma'am-- Herald Villiers." He says to the praise, a bit bashfully. He does a quick search for words, staring off to one of the prints on the wall for a moment before looking back. The look in his eyes is thoughtful. "Well, to be honest, word reached me a few years ago-- whispers, really-- of some major upheaval in this Domain. Many Elders of influence destroyed in one night, a new group stepping up to take charge, and the like. It reminded me of something I helped with in New York in the sixties."

The Gangrel's hand on the couch arm had been lightly tracing circles on the upholstery as he spoke. He flips the hand over, gesturing vaguely. "Whether or not there's a nugget of truth to those whispers, I thought it would be good to head up this way and offer my assistance in getting back on track." Here, his mouth screws up in an odd frown, remembering something. "I was delayed, and now that I'm here the situation looks well in hand. But I'd still like to find a solid niche to fill nonetheless. And well, most of my closest contacts in Chicago have moved on." He leaves it unsaid that he feels no pull to go back just now. That much was apparent.

Martha nods, rubs hard at her leg as she listens. "I see, sir...I see. Yes, the destruction took place. I confess I am interested to hear that news of it travelled far. One tends to think of our cities and Domains as citadels...isolated bastions...rather than chain links in a series of fortresses..." she smiles. She too is finding it very easy to converse. "I do so wish you would drink a ginger ale with me, sir! Can we do so as we talk, please? It seems...civillised to do so, and I see you as a very civillised gentleman! Or, perhaps you would join me in a card game? Nothing serious, sir, or intended for either of us to be victorious...only a simple hand of whist or some such parlour game!" She makes and effort to begin to stand, reaching for her cane as she does so, smiling to Dillon.

"Well, if you insist!" He says with a cheesy grin that suggests he'd be happy to join her if she insisted or not. Dillon is obviously enjoying the interaction. He springs up and reaches out to offer Martha a hand, should she require it. "I'd be delighted." Her mannerisms are having an effect on Dillon, at times the accent of a Southern Beau begins to creep back into his speech.

His grin seems to have infected Martha with some delight. Martha lets Dillon help her to her feet; though she is very bashful about it.

Nodding excitedly, she hobbles over to her desk, gets two glass tumblers from a draw and a bottle of ginger ale and pours a hearty share for Dillon and one for herself two. She smiles as she limps heaviliy back, still trying hard to walk with grace though. She offers the glass to Dillon with a smile and small, but respectful, curtsy. The tiny creature pauses to shift Blood around...to take on the Blush of Life. After her inner work is done, she raises her glass in a genial toast to Dillon; "To your good health and prosperity, sir!"

Dillon mimics both the Blush and the toast, adding "To charming new acquaintances."

After a measured drink and swallow, he resumes smiling. Ginger Ale just added to the warm feeling of reminiscence, and he has to concentrate pretty hard to say something significant. Though, of course, he does it with a smile. "But yes, a few words slip out of cities to be caught in information webs. One of the contacts from Chicago I mentioned, a Mister Corbin Blackthorne, has an impressive network that he let's me in on from time to time, that's all."

Bashfully, she replies to his toast with a cheery raise of the glass. Clearly enjoying the evening so far. Martha sips at her ginger ale again, "I see! Goodness me, sir! Such a valuable friend to have! This Mr Blackthorne sounds most interesting! If he ever travels far from Chicago, I should be eager to encounter him.", she keeps quiet on the other questions she had about Mr Blackthorne. They could wait. She rubs at her lame leg a moment as she thinks, smiling and sipping at her drink. She hopes she won't let the silence go on too long, but she did need time to think for a moment. She adds, all cheerily, "Well, sir...you truly are a fascinating gentleman!" all wide eyed, she studies Dillon again, rubbing at her leg again.

"Might I ask, please: do you play any sports? Engage in many pass-times? Myself, sir, I enjoy reading and study..." she limps over to her bookcases, smiling as she gestures to them in a playful way, sipping at her ginger ale before adding, "I also enjoy playing the piano...though I pretend to no great skill."

"Well, I'm a great admirer of literature and music, but I'm not well learned." He says with a humbleness in his smile, reducing it to the point where his teeth weren't showing. "About as learned as one can be with the internet and a car radio as constant companions. Though, thanks to those, I enjoy much more creative exploits than I did before they were invented." He follows the gesture to the bookcase, visually skimming through some of the titles. He'd adjusted to modern times fairly well, but sometimes he felt stretched - one foot in 1860, and the other in a new millenium.

The books look no older than 30 years. Almost all of them are second-hand and look all subject to the same page marking and annotating treatment as the ones on her desk. The are arranged on the shelves in categories: a mix of scholarly studies on withcraft and magic, anthropology, sociology, postmodernist theory and activity in the Arts, history and some books on the Internet, science and Blues and Rock music styles of piano playing. She watches his scrutiny. "Ah, I only have obtained these, sir, since I arrived in the Domain. I have travelled light, you see, sir. It is a shame my old books are so far away...but, the chance to build a new library and collection is one I embrace and welcome!" she smiles and tries a limping, skipping, step back to the bottle of ginger ale. Limping back she offers more to Dillon with a happy smile. "Perhaps you and I could go book hunting together?" she asks with a smile and wide eyes.

Dillon finishes the drink, holding out the small glass when offered a pour. "I think I would truly enjoy that." His smile widens at her eagerness to begin building a new collection. "I think it would be a good hobby to take up, myself, once my residence is more permanent."

As she fills both their glasses, she offers a wide smile and another toast; "Ah! Another worthy project to raise a glass to and a project we may collaborate upon!"