(2102) Jacque's Orbit

[Jacque]

Jacque rose, waiting for Milton to break off to him as the Prince had suggested.

Continued from (2102)Formal Court...

[Milton]

Milton approaches Jacque, stopping at a polite distance. He's thankful for his fellow Lord's lack of a detectable Beast.

"Good evening, Priscus Jacque," a stiff bow is offered. "Her Grace directed me to you for acknowledgement and education on the laws of her domain."

He manages a weak smile. "I am in your hands." God help me.

[Jacque]

"Mister Northbridge, welcome." He gestured to a nearby seat, "Please, join me."

Eyes linger over the bland man as his beast agged on with anger and malice, "I apologize that I did not intervene before any minor faux pas occurred, but it seems others had engaged in conversation and it would have been rather uncouth of me to interject." His hand flips over in an afterthought, "Some Keepers of Elysia do well in collating new faces to their Prisci, but in the absence of one here..." he shrugged, trailing off mid sentence. "Well, these things sometimes happen. It matters more what you do once you're properly introduced to Her Laws." Ah yes, the subject of Mettle again.

He looked over his cousin's suit, trying to glean what little information he can from the attire. Another Lawyer? Again? Hmm, it could just be the formal attire requirement. Who knows, but that leads us to our first question anyway, "So, what business brings you to Sacramento?"

[Milton]

“With pleasure,” Milton takes the seat offered by Jacque, careful to unbutton his suit jacket before sitting. He smooths his tie when settled, picks a speck of lint off his left pant leg. Every gesture is precise, methodical. Were he still living, he might’ve sighed. But he is dead and the whole operation occurs in unbreathing silence. In moments like this, Milton’s primness borders on the perverse, even the disturbing. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t bother to blink as he returns Jacque’s regard. He notes the Priscus’ good looks with equal parts approval and envy, glad that the face of the clan is so well appointed and jealous of Jacque’s good fortune.

“Oh there’s no need for apologies, Priscus. You could not have intervened,” he flicks a glance at Edward, as if measuring him for a length of rope, back again to Jacque. “Mr. Heinrich moved quickly.” Too quickly.

The information about the keeper is absorbed with an understanding nod. Another valuable data point. “Indeed they do. I am lucky Her Grace was kind enough to direct me to you before I further embarrassed myself.” Instead of ripping my head off...A Gangrel prince—will wonders never cease?

On to the matter at hand, What, sir, brings you to our fair domain? Milton appreciates the direct approach in this instance: “Business, precisely,” Milton replies with a slight smile. He produces a card—nice stock, handsomely embossed; all of the standard contact information appears under the header Northbridge Consulting.

“I’m in finance. Largely internal audits—stress tests, if you will,” a slight wave of the hand as if to dismiss this information as unimportant, perfunctory. “Always as an outside consultant. I’ve grown quite the client base out here. Large enough to demand my presence on the ground, as it were...” he trails off with a little shrug, the rest should be quite obvious.

There could be more. There most certainly is. But Milton sees no reason to elaborate at present.

[Jacque]

A simple nod was his reply to dismissing the apology. There was little to gain on dwelling on the subject.

Jacque affirmed, "Yes you are," not as a warning of some imminent threat, but to echo the subtle submissiveness in Milton's statement to any lingering ears. They were always waiting for the big crash.

He accepted the card and flipped it over in his hands, taking in the detail and quality of the card, "Finance is it? Sounds well enough," He hummed in thought as he pocketed the card in his vest, "Where was your presence required prior to here?" He leaned back in his chair with a flit of his hand, "More importantly, is there risk of any following baggage that should be made known?"

While receiving responses to his queries, Jacque pulls a folded piece of parchment from his vest and holds it.

[Milton]

Jacque's affirmation of Milton's luck and the Prince's magnanimity is met with a solemn nod of assent.

Milton had been close, very close, to the edge there, and the Priscus has just confirmed it. Mr. Heinrich led him down a dangerous path. Milton will not forget. Nor will he forgive. He makes a mental note to look very closely at the Succubus' position in the city: financial, political, and otherwise. A little project to keep you busy, my boy...

His card accepted, Milton folds his hands in his lap. "It is, Priscus," he replies innocuously. "You seem like an individual who minds his resources. Should you ever need my services, especially on delicate matters, I'd be happy to assist." Milton would love to get a look at this Lord's books.

"Previous to this, I was in Boston. A fine city with a long history for Kine and Kindred alike." He pauses with a fond smile. It is unclear whether he is reliving happy memories or expressing relief at his departure. "My sire is...no longer with us. And, business being what it is, I decided to make the move out West."

Baggage? "Oh no. No dirty laundry for me. My clients have more than enough to keep me busy." Milton: disappointing childe of a failed and torpid sire, disappointing scion of a once-proud, now-failed, family. Who would be looking for him?

[Jacque]

"You could say that," he responded with a wry grin. "I'll keep that in mind. I can appreciate the value from another viewpoint on investments and securities." Potential value at least.

"As good a reason as any, Mister Northbridge." He smiled at the declaration of no threats to follow. It was nice to possibly have a fellow Lord without drama trailing behind in his wake. "Excellent to hear."

He methodically unfolded the parchment and passed it over to Milton, "Please read that carefully and let me know if you have any questions. I imagine you may wish to outline what you would have done differently this evening upon knowing Her Grace's Laws." A little demonstration of cognition never hurt anyone.

[Milton]

"Very good," Milton seems pleased in his own, muted sort of way. If the Priscus takes him up on his offer, that's more information for him to access and process. If not, he's done his due diligence concerning the leader of his Clan in the city.

He watches intently as the paper is unfolded, offered. Milton accepts the writ of the Prince's Will with something approaching reverence. In any event, he is very careful with the parchment as he intently reads the document provided him. The longer he stares, unblinking, at the Laws of the Domain, the tighter the line of his lips. His focus is evident.

When he is done, Milton begins to methodically fold the parchment again. He continues this work as he returns his gaze to the Jacque. "Well, Priscus, had I been privy to Her Grace's laws, I would have sought you out before all else and avoided troubling Her Grace directly with news of my arrival." But he had not been privy. Further, he had been waylaid, led into a breach of etiquette. The thought awakens his Beast. Milton can almost hear its serpentine hiss.

"This will not happen again though, I assure you. I will commit Her Grace's laws to memory." At this point, the parchment has been folded into a much smaller square than its original state. Tight, neat, compact. It is resting on his knee and Milton pats it for emphasis before depositing the paper in his pocket.

"A question concerning Her Grace's prohibitions: I have several clients in...public service. I will likely find myself in government buildings on occasion for that reason. Nothing untoward will occur of course," that would be bad for business, "but I want to verify with you that such pursuits are permitted..." He trails off, giving the Priscus space to answer.

[Jacque]

Jacque nods with a pleased demeanor as evidenced by the smile on his face. There was a game in the shadows afoot, and his fellow Lord poised himself well with the astute answer, "I'm certain that it will not," he affirmed with a dismissive wave of his hand.

A fair question, "Her Grace's prohibitions are with interference and supernatural disturbance to those agencies. Building alliances, contacts and rapport is welcome, even recommended so long as you do so in a manner that protects the First."

Steely eyes briefly scanned the room before returning to rest on Milton, "Are there any other bullets that need clarification?" His tone was welcoming and non-critical. Now was the time to ask, after all.

[Milton]

No ban on making money in the halls of power? "That is very reassuring, Priscus. My activities are most mundane." Cut throat, certainly. Possibly evil, definitely amoral. But in the end, eminently mundane.

Milton's eyes follow Jacque's gaze. Sweep the room, catch briefly again on the chess set.

"Oh, I see some further areas of inquiry," most bearing on the formalized power granted to the role of Priscus, and the limits of that power. A very interesting facet of the Domain's Laws, and one that could be of use to Milton. "But nothing pressing. Call it an abiding interest in the obvious nuance and intelligence of Her Grace's dicta. Perhaps we can arrange to meet outside of court to discuss the finer points? I would not want to keep you from your duties." Or broach delicate topics in public.

A pause. Milton's blasé regard returns fully to Jacques: "The chess board, just there," he indicates it with a slight nod in its direction. "Is it ever played in court?"