Shooting for Stars

[Fractured]

Trip frowns slightly. if there were few Carthians in Sacramento, his responsibility to the local Movement would be greater than that to which he had become accustomed. His association with his Covenant was more a matter of convenience than any personal commitment to ideals. Having been repeatedly spurned by the Invictus of Los Angeles to join their esteemed ranks, Trip became the enemy of those who wouldn't be his friends. As years went by, he found that he enjoyed their company, if not the rhetoric of their grandstanders, as well as the fact that they asked little of him, though he still nursed a grievous injustice in his heart over his rejection by the 'high-class' bloodsuckers. But even if he was publicly found to be unworthy of the Invictus, they were not so lofty as to overlook his talents when they were useful, and over the years, several bargains had been struck. Trip decides this evening is shaping up to be another. "Its a classic mistake to forget one's friends upon finding good fortune," he agrees thoughtfully. He nods as she explains her affiliation with the press, the Ventrue's insistence on the importance of truth answered. It wasn't exactly celebrity, but it was some fame, more than Trip had ever enjoyed, anyway. "Ah, that's it," he says, nodding amiably, "How noble of you, to grace the citizens of the city with your no-doubt keen insights, despite your lofty status, Miss Donovan." There is not a shred of that statement that doesn't sound absolutely genuine. He lowers his voice to be sure that what he says next is only between the two of them. "You are absolutely right, the truth can be expensive. However, I am willing to offer it at a discount," the Mekhet grins. "As I am new to your city, and must prove my value. I have talents for finding it, and am willing to share, Miss Donovan. Simply name your game, and I'm certain we can reach an arrangement that is more than fair. For instance, I could use stronger drink than they serve here, as my journey from Los Angeles was...unexpected, but wouldn't presume to go looking for any before the city has approved of my presence officially." It wasn't that the road had been entirely unfavorable, but Trip had learned the difference between survival and Final Death could be as little as a bite to eat.

[Fractured]

Trip smiles, "Guilty, Miss Donovan. Though I rarely find someone as worthy of it as yourself. Oh, there I go again!" He laughs guiltily, but there's a twinkle in the Mekhet's eyes that he is not the least bit sorry. The name 'Maskelyne' rings a bell, but only vaguely, as he heard it from some vamp or other and not read it in Variety. "Yes, I look forward to making Miss Maskelyne's acquaintance," he says, nodding thoughtfully, and then his eager smile returns. "I specialize in the discreet, non-violent acquisition of sensitive information," he says quietly, but quite proudly, for a stalker and garbage-picker. "You'll find few better. For instance," he says, then whispers, "did you know that Soulja Boy is also a line-dancing drag queen? He goes by Shania, and I could tell you what cabaret he performs in on Thursday nights." Trip laughs. "But I won't, of course...unless you really want to know. Ah..." Trip sees no benefit to concealing his ignoble ejection from the City of Angels; surely, any Kindred she would think to ask could tell her why he had been banished. "I outsourced a small job i was given from on high to a very close relative, but hadn't realized she was plotting with my enemies. I knew she was upset, of course, but I thought she'd get over it. She did not. I became the scapegoat of my employer's dissatisfaction, and rightly so. It was a miscalculation which I have learned from, but at a high cost, sadly."

[Fractured]

"Undoubtedly, Miss Donovan," Trip grins widely, "my luck has already turned." He removes a business card from a slim, gold-plated case which declared him as a representative of Five Star Talent, an organization which doesn't actually exist and probably wouldn't have hired Trip if they did. For less than twenty dollars, Kinko's would have been just as happy to print a batch declaring him Sex Lord in Charge of Ice Cream Waffles, but subtlety was the key to helping young starlets delude themselves into thinking the skinny Mekhet was their ticket to fame. He slides it across the table with two fingers, leaving it just over the border of Ariana's side of the table. The evening had gone exceptionally well, he thought; a potential job with the Harpy was sure to lead Trip to further opportunities. "I look forward to hearing from you. I'd certainly appreciate the contact information for Mister Greyson as well as Miss Maskelyne."