Man in Black III

[Asa]

See the predator in his natural habitat...

The whimsical thought almost made Asa smiled as he discovered Robert Cross and added the vaguely British voice-over of a National Geographic television special. If they still had those. And what would said Society have to say about the predators that walked upright? That could identify one another with a single glance or heard word that sparked an inferno of hatred burning with wet, crimson flames?

This one, with more reason to hate than most.

Where other Kindred merely existed, this one been extended a measure of trust... and then disappeared. It wasn't often Asa came to The Man in Black -- an act of prudence for an immortal whose face might appear on the walls if the establishment were in the habit of hanging photos of nights long gone. With Alessandra's words about the Brood, he was willing to take the chance. To see how widespread their influence might be, or what neighboring area they might be infesting.

Instead, he found things as they always were. With the addition of the Burger King of Haunts (flame broiled).

With the weather at ninety degrees at dusk, Asa had opted for jeans and a dark purple on grey plaid with sleeves half rolled. There wasn't anyone here he needed to impress nor did he want to look like he was arrived to call in markers. Suit or no, he did exchange several nods and glances with other patrons as he descended the steps after soothing his Beast from the unpleasant surprise Robert Cross had presented. He moved slowly towards the bar; if Cross hadn't seen him, he'd rather make the man aware of his presence rather than have him turn around and be surprised.

"Straight Jack, pour two."

An old ritual. Asa tapped the second glass with his own before taking a swallow, toasting The Man In Black himself. Homage paid, he leaned against the bar to watch how far Silk Suit got with the little thief.

Shame Stamford left. I bet this guy would have paid good money to lick her heels after she'd whipped him.

Pick a Sphere! Asa probably has Allies, Status, or both.

[Yumyumcrow]

Radzinsky cringed and appeared to shrink into his suit. He sighed, looking at his drink. Snatching the glass he turned his face toward Cross, almost perfectly fitting the image of Igor himself. His mouth quirked as if independently trying to ascertain if it should grin or grimace.

"Sanchez and Tombs. Well... Shit. We probably need to get a table..."

The hunchback might have added something more but his sixth sense paranoia told him that another figure had appeared at the bar. Or maybe it was the rich voice.

Radzinksy scuttled around Asa like a verminous insect.

[Robert Cross]

Cross is too focused on his play to notice the Prince of the Domain enter the room. It's not until Asa places his order that the Burned Man realizes who is standing down the bar from him. Still, he does not look. Does not need to. Any member of the Damned in this city would know that voice.

Best to keep his eyes on the prize as it were. And so he does. Literally. Finally looking Radzinsky in the face.

Cross is not impressed.

"Yes. A table sounds good," he replies, following the hunchback away from the bar. Passing right by Asa, who gets a respectful inclination of the head from Cross. One criminal greeting another. Everything in him tells the Burned Man to flee, to get the fuck out of the Man in Black. But his mission is too important.

Perhaps, if he gets his hands on this book, he'll give it to the Prince as a gift.

[Tuesday]

"Why yes, I'm wearing cloths. Thank you for noticing." Hazels. They wanted to roll. But nope. She smiles instead. "Books. Dude. Adages?" a pause. "Dooo you know any?"

Tongue picks at a tooth, "Dude, you walked up to me and called me a blackwidow. Not cool. And generally, poppin' out assumptions anywhere. Bad."

Now she rolls her eyes. "Dude. Not judgmental? Cha-right. You assumptions. Wondering. Judgy."

Voice. Attention grabbing, only because of the drawled manner.

Tall?
Dark?
Hansom?
Drawl?
Purple?

Yep, yep, yep.

Fuck.

"I hang out at other places...?" seriously, dude can't be that slow can he? "What about you? Where you do stand around and pretend not to judge anyone while, totally judging everyone?"

Oh look, the baconator and the hunchback are getting a table. Who'da thought?

[Asa]

Asa watches the disfigured man slip away, followed by Robert. It looked like nothing so much as a cat cornering a rodent or lizard. His neck moved, but the rest of him did not. He was a large enough man that most found it impossible to 'accidentally' bump into him and fewer still tried to forcibly move him. And in a place like this --much like Asylum-- who moved for who spoke volumes. His chin dipped in a barely-there nod at Robert's acknowledgment before turning back to the conversation at the bar.

"If you'll pardon the interruption, I think there's a difference between making assumptions about yourself or the, ah, things around you." Asa paused to take another swallow of the whiskey. Or course either might not pardon the interruption, but much like surrendering personal space few objected to his attention. "...And making assumptions about people."

He offered a friendly smile to the man wielding assumptions like a bad parody of Sherlock Holmes doing deductions, then glanced over at the young woman to include her.

"For example, I missed the beginning of the conversation but not many people would take kindly to a stranger calling them 'lonely' when, in fact, they might simply be waiting for someone."

The smile turned into a small grin as he wondered if the man would be pedantic enough to take the easy out of claiming 'lonely' could mean 'alone' rather than the more negative connotation, or if he had the humility and wit to turn the description upon himself.

"You'd probably have gotten much further if, instead of judging those clothes, you had," Asa leaned forward and fixed the girl in his gaze, "Told her how eclectic you found her jacket and asked her what made her choose it."

[Yumyumcrow]

The hunchback finds a table in a little alcove. Shadows crowd around it. A wall lamp offers baroque illumination. Radzinsky seems to shrivel into his seat, almost glaring through the greasy fringe flopping over his face. His nose wrinkles. He rubs, then squeezes it. Perhaps he hasn't identified Cross as the source of the stink.

"Sanchez and Tombs did not show. I had another buyer pull out all of a sudden. So. Lucky you."

He toyed with the drink Cross had bought him, and leaned closer.

RADZINSKY
The Alchemist Sellout and Shard

Status 2 (Academics)
Subterfuge 1

Given this is turning toward plot, I'm moving our conversation back to the Vampire Venue

[West]

Cross and Radzinsky exit MIB to find somewhere private to talk.

[Tuesday]

She sucks a breath through her nose and turns her hazels up to the sky.

'Fate save me from idiots.' but never fools.

Which answered, by the undisputed king of Sacramento excusing his interruption.

"Dude. You just called me a lonely black widow. Whatever this is." hand raises, gesturing to all of him, "Might work with drunk chicks, or sorority chicks, or high school chicks, whatever it is you wanna bang. But. Just no." Tuesday all smiles. "You might think you're charming, and those aforementioned drunk chicks slash whatever you want to bang might think so to. But their drunk. Or too young to know better. If you want to try for charming. Stop doing all of this." once more gesturing to all of him. "And start doing more of that." finger points quite plainly at Miller. Knowing that right now, within these hallowed halls, she's save to do so, and if he finds her amusing, then maybe she'll be okay outside of the property lines too.

Not that she was really threatened by Miller, because she was an awesome unicorn, but all her dealings outside of mag-y stuff would take a huge fucking nosedive if he didn't like her. Which mean she'd have to dump Robin, find another name that wasn't Ryan. Hell, she should set up Ryan properly too.

Sigh. Why did she make more work for herself?