Exchange Rate

[Milton]

The Sawyer is the preferred hotel of the political and consulting classes of Sacramento. On any given night, visiting politicians, lobbyists, and business dignitaries can be found in the lobby, at the bar, on their way to their rooms to sleep and dream of tomorrow's deals and conquests.

Accordingly, Milton is familiar with the establishment. He's taken a few meetings in the hotel's various rooms and closely attended to their differing amenities. It's why he'd chosen it for his rendezvous with Quinn. Further, it's how he knew to book this room in particular.

The furnishings are modern, but understated. A wall of windows provides a view of downtown Sacramento that almost makes the city's skyline seem impressive. It's no Boston, of course, but still a sight to behold. Most importantly, it is a suite with separate living and sleeping quarters. An essential feature, given that Milton has arranged for...refreshments this evening. Refreshments currently at rest in said boudoir.

The living room, where the meeting proper will take place, boasts a large couch and two, comfortable chairs. A ridiculously oversized TV, currently turned off and looking like a giant, black mirror, is mounted on one wall. Across from it is hung a large piece of abstract art, which Milton does not attempt to understand.

Instead, he stands at the window, motionless, looking out at the streets below. Waiting on his guest.

Quinn Durant pisces

[Quinn Durant]

Quinn arrived via car service as taking her hog out in this outfit would cause car accidents when her skirt rode up to obscene heights. The Kine couldn't only take so much, after all. Quinn's driver rushed around to get the door but Quinn herself opened it, and when he offered a hand Quinn ignored it and instead slipped a fifty into his empty, upturned hand, and walked off without a look or a word. She didn't want to be someone's illicit thrill for the night in their spank bank. She ignored the appreciative looks as she breezed into the lobby looking fresh and crisp in business casual for summer. Her outfit tailored to her petite form. Her hair was half up and half down, enough to keep her hair back from her face, and down her back. She didn't bother to blush just for a quick walk from the car to the room.

A short elevator ride and a walk down a long dimly lit hall and her she gently rapped on the door with the backside of her hand, letting her knuckles announce her arrival for Milton. She waited politely for him to either answer said door, or tell her verbally to come in. Either way got it done. This was business, but it was more personal for the Shadow Priscus than the Lord. Quinn had been here before, and felt comfortable enough at the location. In fact, she had come here with Mr. Heinrich for Punch Bowl Social. Kindred circles tended to entwine in the strangest of ways.

[Milton]

Milton's ever-watchful eyes note the arrival of the car in front of the hotel. Summoning the powers of his blood, he enhances his vision just in time to watch the vehicle's door open from the interior, despite the efforts of the chauffeur. Its occupant avoids taking the driver's outstretched hand, instead depositing a generous tip.

It's like Milton's right there. His supernaturally extended sight takes in every detail. And he knows, immediately, that Quinn has arrived. Even at a distance, the first glimpse of her pale hand confirms it. That she is very careful not to touch the driver is interesting to Milton. Another detail about this woman who he both resents and begrudgingly respects. Another data point to be analyzed at a later date. He does understand the avoidance, from his own perspective. Mortals are such messy creatures. He also finds himself avoiding contact, unless it is on his own terms.

The Lord tracks her progress to the hotel entrance and then allows his vision to return to its normal parameters. Steps back from the window, fussing briefly with his tie. He's opted for a more casual look this evening, eschewing a suit jacket. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, indicating both a desire to work and a less formal attitude.

Only a few seconds after Quinn knocks, the door opens. Milton is there, standing to the side, an arm extended, inviting her to enter immediately.

"Good evening, Ms. Durant," he greets her, avoiding titles while anyone in the hall might hear them. "Please, come in." Her masked beast is a welcome respite from the usual pressures of his own interior monster.

"Thank you for coming this evening. I trust you are well?" After she makes her entrance, Milton will promptly shut and lock the door.

[Quinn Durant]

Quinn's eyebrows lifted a touch at how quick that turn around was. Interesting. He looked more casual this evening. He had chosen a lavender shirt, which Quinn actually felt looked good on the Lord. As did the Purple tie in Elysium. Well. Looks like he found his color, she mused to herself as she looked him over. "Good evening, Mr. Northbridge, I find that color pleasing on you." she said softly in salutations.

She slipped past the opening of the door and entered the suite. Her gaze immediately taking in the well appointed room. Understated elegance, but there was nothing understated about that view. It drew Quinn to the windows immediately. The full moon was rising, and its silvery beams struggled with the electric light for dominance as a few silvery streaks of moonlight filtered in. Quinn stretched her fingers out and let the light play over them. "You are welcome Mr. Northbridge, and I am well, thank you for asking." She tore her gaze from the view and regarded him a moment. Watching him, watch her. "How have you been? Are you settling in alright?"

She kept her interest polite, but thorough. She would like to hear his perspective. What it's been like for him now that he's been here a few months now. Quinn of course had never been busier. Her schedule filling up entirely a month in advance these nights. If her clan wasn't keeping her hopping, her allies were, and the domain investigations were taking precedence. Her calendar of networking, busier than a beaver before the first frost.

You had to give her credit though, she played the game with relentless determination towards her goals.

[Milton]

Milton follows her a little way into the room, but stops to linger on one side of the bedroom door, which is currently closed.

"It's my pleasure, Priscus," assuming her title now that they are in private. "I'm glad we have the chance to discuss your arrangements further. And, If I may add, to become better acquainted. I fear we might have misunderstood one another ever so slightly at our last meeting. Precisely because we did not know each other in a manner sufficient for an open discussion. I hope to remedy that, to some small degree, tonight."

He pauses, "But, before we settle in, I have a gift for you." He gestures for her to join him by the door, the handle of which he turns very carefully. By the time she's come close, the door is cracked, just enough for Quinn to see the darkened interior. A slash of light from the open door falls across the bed, illuminating the form of a sleeping woman. She is on top of the comforter, which is undisturbed, fully clothed in a rather dowdy Chanel ensemble. Even her sensible shoes, stationed neatly at the foot of the bed, are Chanel. She is clearly a woman of means, of a certain age and class. Probably in her early sixties, likely attractive in her youth. Now, fading though stately.

Milton closes the door again once Quinn has had a look. Not all the way, careful not to latch it. For easy access later.

"Mrs. Grenier," he says softly. "One of my preferred clients. Her and I had a meeting earlier this evening and the poor dear became very tired. She will not wake until morning, with only the most pleasant memories of her meeting with her financial advisor. She will be charmed, if slightly embarrassed, at his gallantry, allowing her to rest in the room he'd booked for their appointment." As he speaks, Milton begins to smile. By the time he's finished his explanation, he is grinning. His bloodless lips and natural understatement make the gesture of mirth into something a little more...perverse.

"Would you care to pay her a visit now, Priscus?" He asks. "Or perhaps you would like to wait until later?"

[Quinn Durant]

Quinn's beast lurched as she moved closer to Milton. Whispering its evil wrath in her ear seductively, she felt her lips purse ever so slightly, at his words, nodding a bit to them. This close Quinn could smell the starch used in his crisp shirt. His beast kept her from him, even as hers reacted to his. "Well....if we both have our way Mr. Northbridge I'm sure we will remedy that." Her gaze followed his into the bedroom. At what awaited her. She turned to regard Milton, this close she had to tilt her chin almost straight up to look him in the face, meeting his gaze directly and without fear.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "You certainly have outdone yourself, Mr. Northbridge." Her words practically a purr of pleasure. "I will accept your gift." She paused a moment, knowing the look of predatory hunger had filled her features. She shuddered slightly, and looked back to the awaiting princess waiting for a kiss. "Would you like to join me?" Quinn's smile was purely predatory now, that part of her that was human, wasn't the one pulling the strings in that moment. Something far far darker inside of the Shadow looked out from that beautiful face. The first darkness, and the last, she didn't bother to hide it. Reveling in that shared monstrosity. Dropping the pretense entirely of being anything other than what she is. Kindred.

Perhaps, if Quinn hadn't been so taxed with the investigation, she could have politely declined this moment, but she could not. She caved to that velvet voice in the back of her mind. She let it seduce her into the invitation, very sincerely given, by Mr. Northbridge. She not only took him up on it, but enthusiastically as it were. Her demons coming out to dance with his....

[Milton]

Ah, there it is... Milton can't help but enjoy watching Quinn let down her guard. He thinks often of his own nature, tries his hardest to reconcile himself to it, while hanging onto the mores and boundaries that will prevent him from giving everything up to the Beast. He is a monster, yes. But a polite monster. An intelligent monster. A monster that is interested in more than just blood and death and darkness.

Still: a monster. As are all Kindred. And to see that fact reflected back at him in the form of this lovely Shadow's smile is a delight. He returns that smile, obviously pleased with the effect his offering has had on the Priscus.

"Oh, no, thank you. I would not want to...take away from your own enjoyment. All I ask is that you leave her in a state to vacate the room under her own power in the morning." Milton could always eat more, but this is his gift to Quinn. He will not intrude or partake. And there's something else: feeding with another thrills him, but what if he, they, cannot stop? What if Mrs. Grenier dies? That would not do. Too much of a mess to clean up. And a vacancy in his herd to deal with. Imprudent.

Milton steps away from the door, further into the living room, then turns to face Quinn again: "Do take your time, Priscus. I am the patient sort. You'll find me here whenever you finish." He settles into a chair and primly crosses his legs, his eyes fixed on Quinn. There is something almost flirtatious in his look.

Feel free to narrate Quinn's meal or simply fade to black! Milton will be waiting in the living room when Quinn has finished. =)

[Quinn Durant]

Quinn was not put off at all by his refusal. She pouted cutely at him, sticking out her lower lip slightly, and fluttering her long dark lashes at him. “Awww. For another time then, a raincheck if you will.” She said softly, watching him, with that dark look in her eyes. Oh they understood each other perfectly.


While she watched Milton retreat, she smiled a bit more, knowingly in fact. She did not shut those doors, oh no, how utterly rude. She pushed them all the way open. Leaving the Lord ample opportunity to watch from his perch in that chair. She closed her eyes briefly as that beautiful face turned to profile, drawn by the prey sleeping on the bed. Quinn listened to the sound of her breathing and heartbeat. The literal rhythm of the Kine’s life and Mr. Northbridge was putting it into her hands.


She opened her eyes once more, and slowly backed into the bedroom watching Milton with a small smile. One fingertip trailed the bed from the foot of it, all the way up to where the woman slept. Quinn finally tore her gaze from Milton’s to the sleeping Kine. Sitting down, indenting the side of the bed with her weight.
She lifted the woman’s wrist and placed a chaste kiss on it, before two things happened at once. Quinn’s gaze found Milton’s as her fangs found the Kine’s wrist. He knew the moment blood hit Quinn’s tongue. Her gaze unfocused, and she moaned softly in her throat as the lifeblood of her present hit her tongue. Sliding back down her throat.


She drank slowly, savoring every swallow literally pushed into her mouth by Mrs. Grenier’s heartbeat. Ecstasy filled Quinn. This was the sweetest moment, the moment when her senses reeled, the moment of tasting the thing they would all kill for, they all yearned for, desired above anything else: Drinking blood. These moments of bliss were worth everything they paid for them and more. She gave herself completely to that moment. Her throat working as she drank, even as the euphoria gripped her, she listened for that heartbeat. When it began to quicken ever so slightly, Quinn stopped drinking, the tip of her tongue flicking out to seal the wound, licking the last bit of blood that oozed out of her wrist lovingly.


She took enough to be sated, but not enough to cause any harm. Exactly as the parameters called for. She took an unsteady and unneeded breath to center herself back in the present. That animalistic gleam in her eye returned to the normal warm dark honey they always had. The person underneath the beast returned. She stood and entered the living room, closing the double doors gently behind herself. Leaning back for a moment as Quinn’s mind shifted to what it was supposed to be on: Business. Of course she was in a much much different mood then when she first walked in. Which Quinn guessed was the entire point of this gift.


Quinn leaned off those doors and sat across from Mr. Northbridge on the couch. Her arms outstretched along the back as she claimed her space. One cafe au lait leg going over the other. “Now….where were we? Oh yes…. You were having some second thoughts about my offer and want to explore those terms further?”

[Milton]

The vagaries of carnal attraction do not hold much sway over Milton. Even before his embrace, the Lord found such matters of little interest. Perhaps, in today's parlance, he would most closely identify with the term 'asexual.' But, when he was breathing, Milton simply considered himself above such pursuits. He had more important concerns. The demands of the flesh were little more than a distraction.

And now, with his flesh cold and dead, he finds relief in the fact that such expectations are no longer leveraged against him. True, some Kindred insist on playing out games of seduction, attraction, even copulation. Milton would like to think such activities are a means to an end: one way to handle the hunt. But he is sure that some of the undead continue to replay those patterns as a futile echo of their mortal days. A fact that he finds most distasteful.

Quinn's performance is something quite different, however. She is reveling in their shared nature, inviting him to watch her in the act most central to their existence as Kindred. It is intimate. Exciting. And slightly unnerving, given Milton's staid predilections. Still, he cannot look away. Does not want to.

When the Shadow finds Milton's eyes with her own and begins to drink, it takes all of his control not to jump from his seat and join her. His own Beast strains against the will of the Man. And yet, the struggle is not exactly unpleasant. There's something about this situation, this triangulation of desire (Quinn, Mrs. Grenier, Milton), that yields a frisson of enjoyment. When Quinn's eyes go unfocused and she enters the full swoon of the Kiss, Milton can almost taste the blood on his own lips.

The moment stretches. And then it's over.

Quinn stands, returns to his company, looking sated. Mrs. Grenier, Milton is happy to note, is quite alive and still sleeping deeply. His eyes only linger on his client for a moment before returning to the Priscus as the doors are closed. There's something different about his look now: an edge, a primal element that is not normally there. It makes him appear a touch more...animated. Even without recourse to the blush.

Upon sitting, Quinn returns to the question of business and Milton is thankful. He does not trust himself to address what just happened between them. It is better to allow such events to pass in silence.

"You surmise correctly," he answers. "I have had time to think over our previous meeting and have decided that I am amenable to your offer of a Major Boon." He pauses, as if considering his next step. That bland smile touches his lips, but there's a shadow of predation on his features as well. Perhaps it is a hold over from the events of a few minutes before.

"In the spirit of full disclosure, however, I want to point out that it is commonly accepted that one manner of fulfilling the terms of such a boon is instruction in a new discipline, at least at a novice level. As an authority on the matter recently reminded me." He does not say who, exactly. Not yet.

"However, I am in no hurry," he adds quickly. "Time is not a factor in our decisions, as you surely know. So, I propose the following terms: grant me the Major Boon and I will get to work immediately on the task at hand. With an estate as large as yours, the work will take some time. In that interval, I assume we will become better acquainted, more familiar. And you will see that my interest in your family's...abilities is driven by a desire for knowledge, for better understanding of our shared condition. When my work is complete, we can broach the topic again. On that night, I am sure you will be satisfied with my endeavors on your behalf, and with my intentions..."

He stops there, watching Quinn closely, curious as to how she will take is proposition.

[Quinn Durant]

Quinn listened thoughtfully, looking pretty relaxed in her physical pose, she thought for a moments in silence and nodded slowly.

"I am agreeable to the terms of the boon being exhausted with the teaching of Auspex at a novice level, as long as we are agreed that it is completing the boon and it is held as fulfilled after you demonstrate mastery of the novice level." She paused a moment. "Are we agreed?"
Quinn always looked for the loop holes in everything, but she was quite amenable to the terms.
Quinn didn't comment on his tacit mention of a 'authority' on the matter.

Quinn's smile returned, and she watched Milton a moment happy for a much much more expedient negotiation, and she had a good inkling of whom she owed for this....ease. A certain someone who greased the wheels. She would have to think of an appropriate gift of some sort. Kindred were impossible to shop for. They either could have or would have bought something for themselves, or think you are an asshole.

"Thank you, by the way. For sharing your stable with me. It is a gesture I almost forgot existed. The Dragons do not have such customs, but what they lack in decorum they certainly make up for in knowledge." If you had the balls to reach for it.