multiversallogs | he said leave the politics to mad men.

The Hellsing Guild Hall is not a place Jack has spent a great deal of time. Though he travels in many of the same circles as Sir Hellsing and is quite familiar with her organization from their shared time in Bete Noire, he has somehow, in the ten months he's been in Baedal, never found occasion to visit.

Now that he's here, he wishes he wasn't. The building is a familiar brand of elaborate windows and imposing masonry, and the interior is no better, dark wood paneling paired with clean white stone. They could put a recessed atrium in the center and a portrait of his father over the mantel and he'd feel right at home.

Today, however, he's here to see a princess, and one doesn't slight royalty. (He should know.) He's on time and dressed to his usual standards of formality, suit and tie. With any luck, the trip will be well worth the trouble.

"Jack Benjamin, here to see Princess Nuala," he informs the receptionist in the lobby. "Will you tell her I've arrived?"

In the methodology of Integra and Nuala's combined matriarchal might, there's always been a certain 'divide and conquer' philosophy; Integra is the iron fist, and Nuala is the velvet glove. It's almost relaxing to settle back into a pattern that was - admittedly - still forming when they first worked together, and Jack slides neatly into that puzzle between them, an unspoken responsibility of Nuala's to handle.

It helps that she's inclined to be fond of him, though she operates on the personal philosophy that her emotions may guide her, now and then, but never dictate a course. The fact that she's genuinely pleased to see him, when he's shown up to her office, is not mutually exclusive from the fact she expects them both to be seeking to (in the ugliest term) exploit an alliance accordingly.

They could be very useful to one another, and if they are working in tandem towards similar goals, so much the better.

"Major Benjamin," she greets him warmly, offering her hand as she rises; the office is much like the rest of the building in style, though perhaps not all Hellsing offices contain a settee and soft chairs around a low table currently featuring a tea service. Her desk, more imposing, is set further back in the room, and behind it there is an ornate wooden case, glass-fronted, that's been unearthed from somewhere to hold the silver hand of the late King Balor. It is, of course, securely locked.

The princess herself is dressed neatly and somewhat formally, out of her gowns but not out of her usual aesthetic. Her mood is thoughtful, pleasant - perhaps a little distant, but she has a great deal on her mind lately and it doesn't prevent her from focusing her attention on her guest. "I am so very glad to have the opportunity to renew our acquaintance," and professional relationship. "Please, do join me."

"Your Highness." His address is no less warm. It's not that he finds Nuala less threatening, per se – he knows matriarchy well enough to understand her grace is no indication of softness. But while perhaps his familiarity with that political style should prove ample warning in itself, her particular finesse inclines him to suspend disbelief willingly, to accept her sincerity as much as her political savvy. Today, perhaps, when there are heavier concerns weighing on the back of his mind, he is more willing than usual. (And he has missed her, in a way.)

"Gladly," he responds to the invitation, taking a seat where indicated. Though he does spare a glance to the room – the furnishings, the glass case in particular – he has no desire to pry just now. They have plenty to discuss as it is. "How have you been settling in?"

As they sit together, Nuala takes the opportunity to study him for a moment - to see how his time here has molded him further from the man she first met, to gauge his mood and to reassure herself that he is well. They weren't quite friends, yet, but neither were they not and the both of them are inclined to a certain method of socializing that simply creates such intimacy as they might like.

There are some people she might never have met any other way but this; Major Benjamin, she sometimes thinks, is not quite one of them.

"As well as one may," she says, and there is tea already, hot as if it's just been poured, that Jack may avail himself of if he wishes. "To once again be welcomed promptly into Sir Hellsing's fold has been very heartening, and in truth I think the work does me worlds of good. And you?"

He will have some tea, thank you, and if there's cream or sugar he'll have both, because he has the eating habits of a terrible spoiled child. (That has to be a good sign.)

"Similarly, as to the work. I've come into some property in West Gidd," he says like becoming fabulously wealthy is something that just happens, naturally and completely by accident. Nuala might understand the sentiment, there. "But where I've been devoting most of my time is in local politics. The Independence Front and I have found some common ground. I intend to represent them in more than just the latest cohort, if things goes well."

And he does truly and honestly seem pleased with that, more than he'd been as Minister of Justice when she last saw him. Rather than being confined by the pre-established necessities of a position, as a mere politician in the making, he has so much more freedom to shape his image as he sees fit. There are confines still, but he has space within them for choices; the difference is critical for him.

The tolerantly fond way Nuala observes his additions of cream and sugar has an air of familiarity to it - she prefers her tea more bitter, usually, but Nuada has a sweet tooth that occasionally sees her reach for the honey pot in times of stress.

"How ideal," she says, of the Independence Front, and her pleasure at how promptly their interests align is genuine simply for an appreciation of Jack's propensity to point himself in a direction she approves of as well as the more pragmatic fact that this serves her so well. "I have a great interest in their politics - I would be very intrigued to hear what you make of the party."

The readily interested and warm way she turns her attention on him has another message, unsaid; she is ready and willing to be persuaded to lend him her support in his burgeoning political career, if it will serve her needs.

It's not terribly unusual for Jack to just invite someone to something – out of the blue, even someone he doesn't know quite as well as most people might think necessary before calling them up and asking if they're free and have a clean suit, and if not he'll send something over – and by the way, there's a charity function tonight he's sure you'd be interested in. His social fearlessness doesn't fit with a merely comfortably rich, up-and-coming politician because he's spent so much more time higher up the food chain, a prince who could never afford to establish even the basic bonds that would make a spontaneous invitation more socially acceptable. Jack Benjamin doesn't make friends, he pretends he already has them.

The upside of that philosophy is, he's generous with his time without expectation of reciprocation. Or, in Lex's case, without expectation of reciprocation from him. As an IF representative in the newest cohort, it's in his own best interest to show his fellow party members how personally invested he is in ensuring new arrivals settle in well. More than that, Lex in particular struck him as someone who might go somewhere, and Jack is always interested in potential. He's here as much to get a read on the other man as to introduce him to the party.

The venue itself is large, bright, and lavishly decorated, a benefit for a suitably inarguable but squarely IF cause (proceeds benefit the Xenian children's wing of the local hospital). There will be food, drinks, and sometime later a series of speeches for which Jack intends to be conveniently absent, but until then there are plenty of important indies with whom to mingle.

He waits near the door for Lex, dressed to his usual best – grey suit, black tie, a classic cut that's maybe not as adventurous as he'd wear in other contexts, but it's sharp enough. Now he just needs company.

Since their first meeting Lex has found quite a few things in Baedal: a new home, a job, and the elusive tailor that had been briefly mentioned. While having a place to stay was Lex's first priority, presentation was a close second, and the job helped pay for both.

When Lex nears the door he is wearing a well fitted black suit with light blue shirt complimented with a navy tie. He hadn't yet attended one of these kinds of events within the city, and since he intended it to be the first of many, it didn't hurt to be a little vain and dress in colors that he knew particularly accentuated his features for that initial impression.

"Mr. Benjamin," he says warmly while holding out a hand in greeting, taking in Jack's appearance with approval as he does so. The venue itself gets a quick mental scan, but Lex can do more of that later. First thing's first.

"Mr. Luthor." His handshake is firm, maybe a little moreso than you'd expect from the ostensibly pampered politician. (But then, there's more to him than just that.) "So glad you could join me."

"How are you finding our fair city? No trouble with the tailor, I see." His smile crooks at that, amused. He does like the suit – and he likes that is suits his purposes, here. It's always easier to market someone who knows how to market themselves.

Lex tries not to have expectations of politicians. It usually leads to disappointment at best and unsavory actions at worst. Not that he's ever been involved in either. The handshake is accepted with a nod before he releases Jack's grip.

"Baedal is quickly becoming my own city as well," he admits. "I've got a good job with an agri sci company that's allowed for me to move out of the inn. It's not home of course, but I see no reason to waste an opportunity." Especially not tonight now that he's here.

"No, indeed." He gives a slight smile, with a note of approval much like the last time they spoke, for Lex's unflappable ambition. Jack appreciates a certain drive.

"Shall we?" He gestures toward the event. "I thought we could start with a drink and you could tell me a little more about yourself – where you've been, where you're going." Which will presumably help him get a feel for who Lex should meet, while they're here. "Is agri sci your area of expertise, then?"

"Yes it is," Lex answers with a nod. "I went to school for bio chemical engineering and came back home to run a fertilizer plant of my father's company before moving up the ladder to head the agriculture division. We were currently working on real breakthroughs, breeds of various fruits and vegetables that will stay ripe longer. Seeds that would sprout in even the harshest conditions. Nothing is perfect of course, but there were definitely steps in the right direction that I'm going to look into here."

He walks with Jack in acceptance of both the drink and his offer of delving further into the event in exchange for a bit of details about himself. Food may be a simple thing, but it was an important thing, and one that he knew he could use to make strides with here in Baedal. "And you? What did you do back home before greeting bewildered travelers?"

"War and politics, mostly. Thankfully Baedal is lacking in the former." He smiles as if he might just leave it at that, gesturing to the barkeep for a whiskey once they're inside, but that would be a little cruel. "I've spent most my life in the military, and all of it as Crown Prince of the Royal Kingdom of Gilboa – which more people seem to know as Israel, but most people don't know at all, so I'll forgive you if you don't." He'd like to know who does, however, thus the title drop. Better to get that out of the way, he thinks, if it's going to be an issue.

Of Lex's career, he adds with a slight gleam in his eye, "You'll be very popular with a background like that, you know; limited resources make people very keen on making the most of their efforts."

"I know of Israel," Lex says, "but you're right. I don't know of anything regarding a kingdom." He realizes that they most likely come from different worlds but it still chafes a little to be ignorant on what should be familiar.

At Jack's remark about popularity Lex regards him with a wry look of appraisal. "Judging by your invitation I'm sure you know that I would be lying if I said that the prospect doesn't appeal to me. Though my projects aren't simply idle talk, and they may take a while to come to fruition, but I want to show the city what I can do. People will always need food and I want to be someone who can provide."

After watching the barkeep hand the two men a glass Lex returns his look to Jack. "What I'd like to know is what the city can provide for me in return."

Edited 2011-06-06 02:47 (UTC)

Jack suspects, if Lex knows of Israel, he may be able to connect more than he thinks (the name Israel doesn't come from nowhere, after all), but he waves a hand, dismissing it. It's only a useful connection to make if it's meaningful to the other party; otherwise it's dangerous – his biblical portrayal is rather violently anti-polytheistic, after all – and he'd just as soon not.

"That is the question. And the answer is," he responds smoothly, bringing his drink to meet the smile on his lips, "Everything."

"I thought we'd start small, though. See what you get up to with the right connections – and a little independent funding, if we're lucky. How does that suit you?"

Lex finally cracks a hint of a smile, tight lipped and hardly noticeable, but it's there. Everything was precisely what he wanted and what he knew he was capable of getting here or anywhere else. There was no reason he couldn't continue his research that would benefit society at large and make a name for himself while doing so.

"It suits me quite well," Lex says taking a sip from his glass and proceeding to regards its contents. "Though I'm sure you can understand my desire to learn more before I agree to anything on a handshake." He returns his attention to Jack, shifting his position a bit closer. His tone is perfectly cordial, even friendly, but there is no mistaking his reserve. "You know what I want. What is it that you want in return?"

For all that Jack's smiles come easily and completely devoid of sincerity, he can appreciate the subtler variety.

"Aside from your fortune, your firstborn, and your immortal soul? I hadn't decided." Which, teasing aside, he realizes is not the most comforting answer, but he has the upper hand in this particular exchange; he doesn't have to be comforting. Out of respect for Lex's intelligence, though, he can be reasonably straightforward. "I'm a politician, Mr. Luther, it suits me to have friends in a variety of places."

Friends who owe him favors, doubly so. He figures Lex can put that much together himself.

"My fortune is inaccessible from this city, I don't intend on having children, and I'm pretty sure any soul I had left me a while ago." He returns the teasing comment easily, both as a means of easily adapting to the tone set in front of him and putting the ball back in Jack's court.

Lex is no stranger to exchanging favors and this opportunity is certainly one that he doesn't want to pass up. For as much as he wants to climb up the social ladder in the city, there is no way he is going to turn over complete trust in Jack. A certain amount of caution however, could afford to be sacrificed. Life was nothing without risk after all.

"So. How do I go about staking my claim in one of these places, friend?" Jack wasn't finished fulfilling his end of the deal. If Lex was going to be owing anybody any favors he was damn sure going to squeeze out all he could of the agreement.

Jack isn't the type to spend a Sukkardi evening alone. Before multiversal cities started snatching him up, he had a longstanding tradition of spending the Sabbath sleeping off his exploits from the night before, enduring a few hours with his family, and escaping as soon as the sun went down to engorge himself on Shiloh's nightlife. Even when he was unhappiest (especially when he was unhappiest), he could find distraction in the company of near-strangers, particularly with the help of sufficient amounts of alcohol and very bad ideas.

His political aspirations have inclined him to tone that down in Baedal. But the instinct is still there, to draw people and idle pleasures to him to salve his wounds, even if said wounds aren't so gaping anymore. Self-indulgent as that may be, he has enough awareness not to be tedious about it.

Tonight, he's hoping for equal parts self-indulgence and productivity. Adrian certainly falls under the categories of near-stranger and acceptable company, but he's also honestly curious about the other man, in the way that hints of power and capability always draw his attention. Potential allies or potential threats, he likes to get to know both equally – though the latter possibility is one reason he's invited Mr. Veidt out separately from Mr. Luthor. (Perhaps not the only reason.)

The restaurant he chooses is no Shiloh nightclub; though still somewhat relentlessly modern, as his tastes tend to run, the atmosphere is quieter and the two-person tables allow for a degree of privacy Jack appreciates. Not so much as to be overly intimate, but enough he doesn't have to consider his audience with every nuance of body language. He arrives early, dressed in a well-tailored maroon dress shirt and black suit jacket (sans tie), and stakes out a place near the bar to wait for his guest.

Edited 2011-05-28 23:16 (UTC)

While Adrian is no longer quite the social butterfly he was in his younger days, he has every appreciation for the opportunity to enjoy an evening in interesting company. Even should the meeting be a failure socially, he'll have learned something useful, which will make it time well spent.

From the bit he gleaned about Jack during their brief conversation, however, Adrian isn't expecting any kind of failure at all.

He arrives at the restaurant on time, having already seen a tailor and had several suits made, including a recreation of a particular favorite -- purple silk, worn over a black turtleneck. Much less business-oriented than the black suit he arrived in, and certainly made to with the idea of calling attention to the wearer. Spotting Jack immediately, he makes his way toward the bar, smiling.

"Mr. Veidt," he greets with a smile of his own and an offered handshake. Considering Baedal's stylistic diversity, Jack has learned not to judge people by their fashion choices – and Adrian's aren't anything the man can't pull off, just...well. Jack appreciates the panache, let's say that. (The turtleneck/suit combination is one he's overly fond of himself, actually, just not typically paired with purple silk.)

"It's a pleasure to see you looking well. The table should be ready – shall we?" With a gesture in the appropriate direction.

In Adrian's opinion, although being admired is certainly his main goal in dressing, simply being looked at will suffice. You can't make any kind of impression by blending into the background where no one notices you.

"Likewise, Mr. Benjamin." After shaking hands, he steps aside to allow Jack to lead the way to the table, taking his seat with an approving glance at his surroundings. "You have excellent taste. I count myself lucky to have had the pleasure of your invitation."

Not just because of the restaurant.

Jack, by contrast, has never needed to do much more than step out his front door to make the papers, and even in Baedal where that is no longer the case, his fashion choices speak more to the fact that he forgets everyone isn't paying attention to him already. The way he handles their hostess evidences tendency, perhaps – how he simply assumes she'll interrupt whatever she's doing and seat them immediately. (It helps that he's been here before and tips very, very well.)

When they're settled, he gives Adrian a wry smile. "Please, flattery and I are too well acquainted." It's said kindly – he sees you there, sir – but he's too cynical for that. "I stumbled upon it some months ago, and was frankly relieved to find a diverse menu that didn't spoil the appetite." Gagh is a little beyond his tolerance for experimentation, okay.

"But there are more interesting topics than food at hand. Tell me, how have you been since last we spoke?"

Adrian appreciates talking to someone who can see past the flattery and empty compliments, and his smile deepens, as he gives the other man a nod of acknowledgment. "Not being used to cooking for myself, it's good to know where I can kind places with good menus." Maybe he and Lex will need to employ a cook. Adrian makes a mental note to look into that possibility.

"Thankfully, I can say I've been busy. I've secured a job and a place to live, although the latter is requiring some renovations. And I've made a few contacts, we'll see whether any of them prove useful." Sadly, making friends has never really been on Adrian's to-do list. "And what about you? Filling your time with other things besides providing newcomers with light in the darkness, I hope?"

Jack nods, amused but sympathetic, to the first. Cooking is one thing he is actually independent about, but since his standards are ridiculous and he's not motivated enough to put that much effort into it daily, restaurants see a lot of him, too.

"Of course. Helping new arrivals is only a small part of my work with the IF; most of my efforts go toward campaign strategy for their various candidates, which means a lot of lunch meetings and charity events." About which he sounds fairly bored, but not unhappily so. Rolling elections every six months in a large party simply makes for a lot of campaigning. "Can I ask what the job is?"

"I bet you meet a lot of very interesting people that way." Adrian's quite serious about that -- he may not have gone into politics, but lunch meetings and charity events are as numerous on his schedule as magazine interviews and press conferences.

He orders himself a glass of wine when the opportunity presents itself, only barely taking his attention off Jack long enough to do so. "I'm working with the Energy Authority, developing alternative sources for powering the city. It actually fits well with some of the work I was doing at home, so I'm very pleased to be able to continue my research here."

"I meet a few very interesting people, and a great number of uninteresting but well-funded ones," he responds to the first bit. (And he hasn't even had his first drink yet. He will, though – a whiskey, because he's a bit of a lush.)

That accomplished, he leans in, propping an elbow on the table to listen to Adrian. "Fascinating. We tried to harness the wind in my kingdom once, but it was not to be." ...So his technology level may be a little skewed. "With fuel as scarce as it is here, however, there's certainly need."

"And sometimes the latter are the more useful of the two." His tone is dry but amused -- there are plenty of things business and politics have in common, and the need to make friends with deep pockets is one of them. Even if it's only to be sure they aren't taking their interest to the competition.

Smiling at the attention, Adrian toys absently with his glass. "My focus tends more toward molecular energy -- after all, the abundant form of energy that exists can be found within the very building blocks of the universe. Properly harnessed, we can be looking at a power source that's clean, inexpensive and limitless." It's very clear from his delivery that this is a topic that goes beyond simply a means of employment, that it's something Adrian is truly passionate about.

The details elude him – nuclear power is no more commonplace in Gilboa than nuclear bombs, which is why they're still fighting wars with tanks, battling from trenches and across fields of barbed wire. Molecular power is a step removed from what he's even passingly familiar with. But the details aren't what interest him anyway, so much as the passion behind them, and that is very interesting.

"And you would offer it inexpensively?" he asks with a curve of a smile, ever the skeptic, altruism having never seemed to him so plausible a motive as profit. (Admirable, yes; believable, no.)

The details of Adrian's energy research elude most people even in his own world, although the threat of nuclear annihilation is the constant threat that drives much of what Adrian does.

"Here, I'm afraid I would have little control over that, although I should hope those who do would be capable of seeing the benefits of providing their people with safe and affordable energy. At home?" His gaze moves away from Jack's for a moment, as he visualized all the work left undone in his absence, and the dream that motivates that work. "At home, Mr. Benjamin, it will be available for free. And that will be the key to society finally breaking the shackles of corporate interests, the key to ridding the world of poverty, of the nuclear threat, of the need for war."

It's notable that, for all Jack seemed immune to Adrian's charms a moment ago, this dream of a perfect world draws him in infinitely more effectively – and reluctantly. His expression softens, but it's brief and quickly hidden again behind his usual façade, which is, in itself, more telling than he means it. (Why hide something inconsequential?)

"The day mankind runs out of reasons to kill one another, I will be truly surprised," he quips, but kindly. "But you may find more support here than you think."

From him, perhaps.

Adrian has made a practice of reading facial tics and body language of, a useful skill in both the corporate and the criminal worlds, and Jack's momentary reaction doesn't go unnoticed. Neither does the fact that he seems to feel the need to hide that reaction. For now, Adrian doesn't know how to interpret either, but he won't forget them.

"I have hopes that once we no longer have any need for violence, we'll turn our energy to better things. A better society, perhaps even our own evolution." He smiles at the encouragement. "I'd be very grateful for whatever support might come my way. Ideally, with the right kind of support, not only can I make things better for the people of Baedal, but perhaps someday the research done here can be applied to what I've already accomplished at home."

"I look forward to seeing what you come up with." That much sounds sincere, maybe more than anything else he has said (or will say) tonight. Sincerity doesn't suit him except in these fleeting moments between masks, and then he's off to bigger and brighter ideas.

"Where did you get your funding, before? Public, private, corporate, personal...?" There's a touch of slyness in his voice with that last option. Adrian isn't difficult to peg as the well-moneyed type, no more than himself, and as self-proclaimed king of the over-privileged, Jack feels he's allowed to tease.

"I look forward to showing it to you," Adrian replies. His tone is utterly restrained and professional, but there's the slightest quirk of a smile on his lips.

The way Jack asks his question makes Adrian grin, and he gives a tilt of his head in acknowledgment of the fact that he makes no effort to hide his wealth. "Technically, it would be corporate funding, but the corporation bringing in the money belongs to me, Veidt Enterprises. Mostly it's our marketing branch that pays for the research." Marketing isn't all that Veidt Enterprises does these days, but since some of the pies Adrian has fingers in aren't precisely legal ones, he can be forgiven for being a bit vague.

he said leave the politics to mad men.

Nuala.

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Lex Luthor.

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weghpohqgqwg[jperb sorry for such a late tag!

IT'S COOL, this is a slow tag party

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Adrian Veidt.

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