Dicky pulls up to the address Taylor McCoy was so eager to give.

Certainly a nice facility, shame to only be able to see it at night. Dicky checks to see if Taylor is... on the job.

The front of the building says "McCoy Pool and Spa," and remarkably even at such a late hour there are still over a handful of cars in the parking lot. Immediately upon entering a friendly young receptionist greets Dicky from her desk. Her flawless long red hair with black highlights is pulled back into a ponytail, and the nametag on her blouse reads: "Tammy." She stands and in doing so shows her full perfectly slender figure; a impeccable white smile is across her face.

"Welcome to McCoy Pool and Spa, I'm Tammy!" She giggles, apparently not in the least bit deterred from repeating this greeting all day. "Do you have an appointment, or would you like to make one?"

Huh, tranny? Probably. Somebody did good work though.

"Nice to meet you Tammy. I'm Mister Richard DeBruyn, friend of the management, partial owner. I'm going to be taking a quick tour of the establishment if you don't mind."

Tammy blinks, a visibly confused look on her face. "Umm...Mr. McCoy didn't say anything about you. Are you sure you are who you think you are?" She giggles that high-pitched annoying giggle again. "The good news though is that Ms. McCoy is in now, and I could page her down here. Would you like that?"

Course she didn't. "Not a problem. I'm here to see Mr McCoy anyway. Could you page her?"

"Sure thing! I'll page Mr. McCoy right now."

After waiting a few minutes in the waiting room, Dicky finally sees the door marked "Employees Only" open and the androgynous Galloi walk out. He/she is dressed in casual business attire, looking perfect as ever, and is carrying a clipboard with some papers attached to it. Taylor's attention is entirely on the clipboard, and after a few moments of consideration he/she pulls out a pen and writes something down. Only after that does Taylor look up to acknowledge Dicky. "Richard, it's good to see you stopped by. How are you?"

Dicky's in no rush. "Little hungry. But fine." He holds up one hand and gestures around him. "I like your place. Nice setup, understated. Great staff."

"How's business?" Given the cars outside, clearly fairly good.

Tammy smiles and giggles from behind her reception desk, having overheard the 'great staff' comment. Taylor gives her a smile, although his/hers is predatory in nature -- she picks up on the look and her smile fades slightly before she goes back to her duties. "Business is good so far, we just opened a few days ago. Between the connections I made from running the spa out of my basement and the people all these new beauty school grads have, it was easy to get a decent customer base."

Opening the 'employees only' door for Dicky, Taylor gestures for him to follow in back. "Would you like to move this conversation to my private office, away from the eyes and ears of the customers?"

"Certainly, let's not bore the customers with business." Dicky grabs the door and motions for Taylor to lead the way. After all, Taylor
knows the way.

"So, the party was a delightful mess, wasn't it?" Dicky rumbles wryly.

Delightful mess? More like divine judgment.

Taylor takes the hint that he/she should lead the way, finding the obvious overcareful action to be nothing more than silly paranoia. Hell, if he/she were going to get revenge it certainly wouldn't be at the place with his/her name on the door! Inside Taylor's head, he/she laughed at this whole scenario.

"Right this way." McCoy led Dicky down a wide corridor passing a few doors before finally stopping at the end of a hallway in font of a more expensive looking door than the rest. At about eye-level on the left hand side of the door mounted on the wall was a sign that read: "Taylor McCoy: Owner." He/she pulled out a ring of keys and opened the door's deadbolt. "I suppose I'll go in first." Taylor said with jest in his voice and a laugh; it was a light jab but one worth taking.

The interior of the office is very nice. Several wall-sized paintings adorn the wall, with a large painting of a beautiful mid-afternoon landscape painted unto the wall directly behind his/her desk. The sun's positioning was just so that when Taylor sat in the large leather chair, his/her blond hair would seem to blend in with the painted sun's rays. There were two leather seats across from the desk, and a few filing cabinets against the wall as well.

"This is my office, not too shabby if I say so myself." Taylor says as he/she sits behind the desk.

If Taylor was making a joke about his nameplate, Dicky doesn't get it. He follows his way in as Taylor takes his seat.

Taylor McCoy, self styled Sun God? Angel? Dicky's opinion of the man slips just a little further. "You have an eye for Luxury, Taylor." It sounds a lot like a compliment. Dicky takes a moment to look over one of the more understated pieces.

"I was hoping to talk to you about the Movement," Dicky begins. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

"Luxury sells, Dicky. But, yes, feel free to take a seat." Taylor's hand gestures toward the chairs opposite of his/her desk."So, what is it about the Movement you would like to talk about?"

"Well, since I'm new to the city I don't know it very well yet. I was hoping you can lend me some insight into what we do here, how we operate." Maybe get a few forgotten factoids about our elected leadership from their least favorite contemporary. Maybe understand why Taylor sticks with it.

Taylor McCoy remains seated upright in his/her chair without any sign of slouching or reclining backward; he/she seems to prefer keeping his/her head centered in the painted sun against the wall. Taylor didn't want to tell the full story, but that was because he/she didn't want to reveal what little he/she knew. "I came to the city roughly three or four months before you did, almost immediately after the Lost Nights. In the chaos that came after the disaster the Movement assembled and I found myself among many others who arrived after those Nights. The court directly thereafter, held by Prince Clarke, was our first meeting and we elected a temporary Prefect until we could meet more officially; that man was Jack Bennett." Taylor paused, thinking back to Jack for a moment.

Oh how I miss you now Jack...

"Honestly, at the time Jack did not seem to want the position that much at the time but he accepted it anyway. Soon thereafter we organized a meeting and that night we all became acquainted with one another, preformed the chain, and elected Jack Bennett into the position officially. We also had a vote for Myrmidon, and I won by a small-majority."

Attempting to think of something else to say, Taylor drew a blank. For the first time, the Galloi actually mentally verbalized the thought that perhaps it was best that Jack was no longer Prefect -- the man didn't do anything for the movement. Shit, there isn't much else to say but history. We didn't even have a cause...

"That is our history, and beside that we never did anything more. We lacked a strong leader to unite us under a single cause; Jack Bennett was ineffective and not meant to be a leader. His lack of effort and commitment to the movement set us back in the eyes of our peers. In short, Jack was lucky Clarke gave him the little mercy that he did." Taylor's voice and face was without expression, although it could easily be guessed that this was not a topic Taylor was happy to talk about.

Sorry Jack...

Dicky regards Taylor with a doubtful look. Is that truly how he feels?

"Still. Is there any law less universally ignored amongst our people than the prohibition of our multiplication? Strange the crime that made us all is so readily punishable by death in this domain."

Dicky doesn't linger on the topic, gauging Taylor's reaction only fleetingly. "I would think that the first order of business is the most primitive. To ensure the well being and property of our members are protected against the callous danger of uncertain circumstance." Those are a lot of big words coming from little Dicky, is he being seditious?

For now Taylor ignores the first comment about the second tradition; this was not the time or place to discuss the philosophy of kindred laws. The former Myrmidon follows Dicky's choice to not linger on the topic. Moving unto the next point, "Right now I'm only aware of our holdings of the Sterling Hotel and this establishment we're in now. I can assure you that this asset is safe, and as for the Sterling that is not my place to say."

Is Taylor playing dumb, or really not getting what Dicky's saying? The 'Uncertain Circumstance' isn't bad luck, it's a very specific person.

"You say we don't have a cause? I don't understand. What do you mean by that?"

"Allow me to be blunt, Richard." Taylor's expression from the other side of the desk no longer bears any sign of friendliness. "Under Jack Bennett we were not unified in the least bit, the Movement was an inept laughingstock. I was taken from my position of Myrmidon, and replaced by a fool by the votes of other fools."

Now was the time to show his/her fangs. Dicky was an impressionable lad, a bit skittish but certainly not a moron. He'd understand McCoy meant business.

"As for help toward this burden, you and Michael will receive nothing more than a description of the attire you are expected to provide me with. You dug yourselves a hole at court that could have been avoided and I will not assist someone who dug their own grave just to lay in it."

Bitter? Hell yes I am.

"HAHAHA," Dicky isn't exactly sure what brought on that little outburst, but he openly snickers. "Excuse me? As far as I'm concerned you kicked yourself out of your position. The way you were behaving that night? Hiding secrets, overreacting to criticism, making personal attacks, who was gonna vote for you?" If Dicky hadn't have talked to Rosuto, this exchange might have surprised him. Dicky's attitude grows calmer, more detached. Maybe he IS dead weight after all.

Taylor McCoy's slowly rising temper actually cools down from hearing Dicky's laughter. The Galloi had expected excuses by this point, and the fact that he would laugh only proved he was also beyond seeing the error of their ways. Replacing the look of stern humorlessness on his/her face with one of a smirk Taylor chuckles just slightly under his/her breath.

"Richard, unless there is any other business you would like to conduct I do believe the exit is right behind you." Taylor lifts his/her arm off the desk and extends it forward with the forefinger pointed to the door they entered through. Again, Taylor laughs in a very condescending fashion.

"Yea, I do. We just started talking seriously. I think you need to man up and admit you screwed yourself over. You started out the night probably first pick for Prefect." Dicky doesn't budge yet, leaning back in the seat. This is it, the last overture. Does Taylor belong on their team?

"If you want a position, we're going to need you to be a team player. That means supporting the team, means not hiding stuff, means letting shit go. Sometimes," hint, hint, Mr Digs-your-own-grave, "that means taking the fall for the team's mistake."

"My team is still the Carthians, Richard." Taylor laughs again, his/her perfect white teeth seeming just as blinding as the painted sun on the wall. "You mistake my choice to not assist you and Michael for not being a team player. Think of my position on this as a contentious objector."

"You see man, that's your problem," noting Taylor's Freudian slip, "you're not a conscientious objector, you're a contentious objector. And this isn't even about the costume crap, although it's basically a symptom of your bigger problem getting along with people you don't like. Also, it's super petty of you. It's like you don't seem to want to contribute unless you're showing someone up, you don't seem to be able to articulate what our purpose is. You think you're hiding behind this like, unreadable veneer or- but then you talk and it's like, passive aggressive," Dicky starts counting on fingers, "condescending, spiteful, it sounds like you basically hate everybody."

Taylor let Dicky finish his little speech in full, and when he finally finished the humored expression on Taylor's face did not fade in the least bit. "I like what you said about not contributing unless in an attempt to one-up someone. And I'd hope you wouldn't find it petty, passive aggressive, condescending, or spiteful of me to decline to contribute to the debt imposed on you both," That perfect grin widened to the point where it was entirely inhuman, showing Taylor still had the Nosferatu blood in him/her. "...I'd hate to show someone up with any contribution I could make."

He/she stood up from the desk now to full height. "But like you said, Richard, this isn't about costume crap. This is about you coming here to point fingers and make a feeble attempt to make me conform to a regime that I do not agree with." Taylor laughed again, although this time it was only a chuckle of exhaustion. "Richard, I don't hate any of you. Do not mistake my distaste for hatred."

Smarmy, self assured, and completely unwilling to bring himself to have a serious conversation on an even playing field. Taylor's a lost cause. "Regime? You're kidding me, Arnoud is a placeholder and Lenny barely has an agenda. You can play victim all you want Taylor. I'm sorry you don't seem to understand why I came here."

"But thank you for having me anyway. You afforded me your time, and it's been more than gracious. I want to wish you the best with your business."

"I will see you around."

"Goodbye Richard, have a good remainder of the evening." Taylor sounds sincere in saying this, and despite their disagreements Taylor extends his/her hand outward to shake.

Dicky shakes Taylor's hand without hesitation. He makes his own way out.