(1408) Dillon, Thomas, Dog, Harold, and Ashley

[Ashley Cohen]

Ashley's beast stirred with fear over Dillon's proximity. This time, though, she fought the instinctual urge to use the sanguine voice upon him. She survived that ride once, and did not care to take a trip down that alley again. Besides, out of all in attendance, he was the only one which she had business to discuss.

"I barely know either... Mrs. Marvel. Whoever that is..." Ashley grinned, toying with the sash for a moment. Then shit took a turn for the weird...

Ashley remained silent, giving them their moment. Her eyes fell to Thomas , before quickly shifting to Dillon to catch his reaction. She was pleasantly surprised by the quick turn around before someone came in and exploited the situation.

A soft smile traced her lips over Dog's antics, even as her beast cringed with fear over his presence. Ashley couldn't help but play along...

"Do you take me for someone who likes sloppy seconds?" Ashley said playfully...

"And...I wouldn't have pegged you for the "shitty-thirds" type..." Ashley gave a helpless shrug.

Ashley's eyes left them for a moment, as another approached. Harold was hard not to notice, it was as if his massive form drew glances from gravity alone. She gave him a respectful curtsy, as he was another piece of the puzzle that was falling into place tonight...

"Ashley."

Velma's outfit caught Ashley's attention. If Ashley did not have better things to do, then she would have wasted time fucking with the Daeva. The Harpy's costume gave Ashley a fair idea of what she might look like if she got flensed, something Ashley intimately knew Velma could survive through...

Dog deals 2 Aggravated Damage to Thomas from that BURN

[Dillon Connery]

Chrisie

When Martha, in the guise of the White Queen, descends upon them, Dillon nearly loses his stony composure. His eyes are smiling brightly at her, at any rate. He meets her nod with one of his own across the way, following her movements for a few seconds until other things, arrivals and events, draw his attention.

"Hey, there's another red sash," he says, lifting a free hand in greeting and genuine appreciation for Daniella Sage and her show of deference. "Reckon that's some sort of team thing, then?"

Or just an excuse to draw attention to the women's hips, and everything on display there?

Dillon has to admit-- it works.

When Swamp thing shambles over-- that was a neat show-- and reveals himself, quite dramatically, to be a Sanctified Priest... things get very interesting very fast. He doesn't have much time to react, before Dog and Ashley make what they will of the situation.

Duality. The sub-theme of the evening.

Maybe the man's gesture is a bit over the top, for the middle of a Costume Court. And Dog's words are positively hilarious, as usual. But at the same time, he feels a stab to his pride at how quickly an apparently pious man is openly mocked for his conviction. Dillon is caught between the Gangrel wanting to spare a predatory chuckle to both of the Kindred at his sides, and the Bishop wanting to knock both of their fool heads together.

The Reeve in him wins out, lifting his free hand again. This time, in a casual halting gesture that will hopefully stay the Hound from exposing himself. "Sorry, Dog: No one's getting serviced here, tonight. Not in public, anyway."

Hazel eyes glance dryly between Dog and Ashley, obviously trying not to smile again. "You both need your mouths washed out with soap."

A subtle hint to the Rule of Elysium, before he accepts the volumes from the penitent man. "Stand, Brother Galilei. That's not necessary, here.

"This is not my Court, it is his," Dillon nods respectfully toward Asa , "and we are all here as his guests, by virtue of his hospitality and generosity."

Hopefully, Thomas would get the hint that he didn't mean to run straight to the Prince and do the same thing, either. The books are tucked carefully into a cargo pocket. If they are indeed genuine, Dillon certainly does appreciate the offer. Though, for once, he is privately grateful that the Testament of Longinus is not overly lengthy in its entirety. Else it could get awkward carrying the volumes around all night.

He spares a glance of recognition to Harold, both the Kindred and his character, as the man threatens to crowd them. Dillon's about to need his elbow room. "Kingpin. Nice pick."

Not that he minds Ashley's proximity, half-naked as she is.

Dillon answers the nod from Velma Star with a wink, and a deliberate glance down to her attire an back to her eyes. Just in case she can't guess where his mind went, he silently mouths the word Asylum.

Seems she enjoyed the form fitting latex suit he'd once placed her in enough to get another one. In a more appropriate red, too.

He still has the birdcage.

[Dog]

If Dog was an eye-roller, he'd roll his eyes at Ashley.

Shitty thirds? He'd take half-dead hundredths.

As it was, his expression drooped into a disappointed glower as it became evident that this wasn't what it seemed. Or, that the option wasn't going to be had.

And here he'd been thinking maybe Court wasn't so bad.

He stayed silent, not replying to Ashley --obviously the Priscus was butt-sniffin'-- and instead entertained himself by wondering how many times he'd have to claw the mound of talking lard to get to vital organs.

[Thomas Galilei]

Mockery . . . such is the price of public piety. Thomas isn't surprised, but it doesn't stop him from getting angry. And then he gets angry that's he's angry at all; if his pride is offended, he must have pride to offend. Some holy man . . . A proud short-tempered laughing stock--it was not the impression he'd hoped to make on the Bishop, the Prince, the Kindred whom he would be devoted to serve.

He stands, clenching his jaw, consciously keeping his hands from balling into fists.

Thomas pours proverbs on his passion, like buckets of water onto a fire:

Better a patient man than a warrior, one who controls his temper than one who takes a city.

Rudeness is a weak man's notion of strength.

You can roll in the mud with a pig, but you'll both get dirty--and the pig will like it.

None of it helps. Thomas realizes he's been staring overlong. He manages a strained smile. "I'm afraid I'd do a bad job of it anyway. I'll say a prayer though"--Thomas glances about the room--"the night is yet young, and there are many others . . . " He places special emphasis on the last sentence, saying it as much to himself as to Dog and Ashley. "Patience is a virtue."

Thomas bows to the Bishop, a look of silent apology painted on his face for putting the man in that position. Thomas was still getting used to a life where Sanctified were not the majority. "You are every bit deserving of your fine reputation. It's been my honor to meet you."

Thomas hopes that his deference sat well with at least one there, but decides that he'd have done the very same if he'd known ahead of time that every eye would scorn, pity, or mock him. Of that, at least, he's proud--there's that word again--but in a good way.

[Ashley Cohen]

Ashley nodded softly to Dillon's suggestion, giving a devilish grin and when Harold spoke up she figured it was as good as time as any. "There is that..." Ashley's eye shifted to Thomas. Something about him sparked her curiosity, yet she could not put a finger on exactly what.

"Poacher getting kine hooked on blood." Ashley's eyes moved off of Thomas to Harold. Almost everything was conjecture, but it did not matter. If it turned out to be anything else, it was well enough in her power to make what she was saying a reality. Ashley did not want it to come to that, though...

"We will proceed as you deem necessary." Ashley's eyes made their way back to Dillon, seeking approval. She figured he may want to proceed in a certain way or provide additional bodies for the task.

Ashley did not bother looking at Dog, doing him the courtesy of leaving out the part where it started in South Sacramento. She couldn't help but like him...

[Dog]

When it finally caught up that they were going to talk about many things that he found completely uninteresting, Dog slid away.

It could have interested him, if any of that were going down in his territory.

But there wouldn't be any howling at the moon about it in Court. Maybe some laughing.

Dog rejoins the main thread

[Dillon Connery]

Dillon nods his appreciation for Tommy Gal's words, and spares an encouraging smile for how well he'd handled himself. It's little more than the wry pull of one side of the Bishop's mouth, but expressive enough to convey his meaning. "You might track down Sister Josephine Sterling, when you get the chance, and put your heads together. She seems very well-learned, and of a mind to get a ball rolling in the right direction. I haven't seen her arrive yet, but I'll get her contact information to you if she doesn't show up this evening."

Two Sanctified in town in addition to Dillon himself. And both with a cool head on their shoulders? Dare he hope?

He would like to see Josephine show up, and in costume. Just as a curiosity as to who or what she might pick.

That same appreciative, approving half smile pulls again at Big Harry's compliment. Considering the common denominator among his cars, his preferred animal shapes, and the majority of his wardrobe, he sure hoped black suited him. Though, what it meant to all the Emo, neo-Goth punks that stand around holding up walls and brooding these nights, he isn't sure. He just knows he'd been doing it since before John Cash was even thought about.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, he spots Tee Bird and her pale little friend from the Ash a Stupid Neonate Night, a few weeks ago. The Black Widow outfit is perfect for her, he thinks. And immediately, he can't help but think about The Punisher and Natasha Romanov in an animated flick, earlier this year. Before he can help it, and maybe due in no small part to her playful wink, he imagines playfully recreating some of the fight scenes. And: Domino! X-Force! Admittedly, something that isn't a movie yet, but should be. Jag LittleFox

It's a discussion that he's had with more than one of his comic-head friends, so even he knows about that one. Here, Dillon attempts to silently get Martha's attention with a wide-eyed glance, then repeatedly point his eyes to Domino over and over, before grinning. It's amusing, that both costumes have their fair amount of convenience for the women. Tracy, who wouldn't have to dye or hide her fiery locks, and the albino, who doesn't have to paint her skin with a character that most people would. Genius. Chrisie

Every added Beast makes the hellhound within him stretch its shoulders in meticulous preparation for violence. Three growls, right behind each ear, and over his head. Sometimes, he can swear to feeling its snorting, angry breath tousle his hair.

It's even more distracting than the tight suit wrapped over Black Widow and Domino's backsides, so the Reeve misses part of whatever the rotund Mister Thorne and petite Miss Cohen are talking about. An eyebrow arches in curiosity. "Poacher, eh?

"We get those from time to time." More accurately, since bottom feeding Kindred are so prevalent, it's more accurate to say 'we catch one that's too stupid to keep his head down, from time to time', but that's semantics. "How's that going?"

Here, he notices that Dog has slipped back into the crowd, and nearly smiles again. This grim and dark Frank Castle thing isn't so easy, for someone who grins as much as he does.

[Thomas Galilei]

Sterling . . . Thomas makes a mental note. He can see the demands on the Bishop's attention, Bishops being important secular political figures as well as spiritual leaders. Thomas doesn't envy him the burden of publicity.

He thinks to tell him that Martha Villiers asked him to hold midnight mass, thinks to ask the Bishop's blessing, but decides that it's a topic better left for another day. Probably the Bishop already knows, anyway. Not to mention, Thomas has a hard time making what people always called "small talk."

Thomas smiles, less practiced at conjuring one than many gathered there . . . maybe all of them. He wonders how he might say "goodbye." He tries a few ways in his head:

If ever you are in need of my services, you need only ask . . . No, that was obvious. It would be the same as saying: you're my boss, so boss me around as you see fit.

It's been very nice to meet you . . . No, he'd said that already.

I can see you're busy and important and . . . No, that might earn him a pellet from the aerosoft gun.

He could just smile and back away . . . No, he'd waited too long. People liked to say things when parting company, lots of things, to forestall their departures indefinitely. "Bishop . . ." Thomas curls his bottom lip under, nods, starts to back away. "Goodbye." He goes with the direct approach.

"Ms. Cohen," he says before returning to the crowd.

Smooth, he tells himself, smooth as braille.