multiversallogs | well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

Entry tags:

well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

Who: Integra Hellsing and Réjean Sept-Heure.
What: These fucking vampires on my lawn etc
Where: A Bar Of Ill-Repute.
When: The other day? Today? Sometime.
Notes: It's like a spy novel! But terrible.
Warnings: See: Who.

Someday, Integra thinks as she pushes open the door to the dingy tile-walled bar, she's just going to clock Réjean square in the face and force him to meet her in a bloody tea room, dressed nicely and sitting still. Not that anyone would ever bother her, even in this sighing, dilapidated place - dressed casually, Integra still looks a bit like she could (and would) just break any wandering hands - but it's the spirit of the thing, really. She finds a table, orders tea (ends up just drinking hot water and lemon), and sits with her back against the wall, waiting and tuning out the only semi-sober efforts of a handful of local musicians as they set about scuttling the cleared-off area in one corner that passes for a stage.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Perpetual thorn in the side of most upstanding citizens, even Réjean doesn't make Integra wait. He may enjoy causing trouble, but in order to do that efficiently and effectively, he needs to be alive (or at least animate) and annoying Sir Hellsing tends to run counter to that goal.

After ordering a glass of something expensive for the barkeep and a ceramic mug of blood for himself, he makes his way over to the table and sits not quite opposite Integra. While they're both well known toughs, he's unwilling to have his back facing the room.

"I don't usually do this," he says with mock bashfulness, "but my niece filled out the dating portfolio and, well, I just want to be a good uncle. So, tell me, do you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain?"

"Your niece must be very open-minded," she says, pulling a cigarette out of a silver case, "To tell the whole of god and everyone how much you like being tied up and hit." Her lighter flickers.

"Conveniently, it's your kin I've called you about."

Réjean bats his eyelashes and sighs in his very best impression of a bobby soxer before taking a sip of his 'drink'. Integra's willingness to be teased and then troll in turn is one of the main reasons he's willing to work with Hellsing instead of just ignoring it as he had its predecessor.

"They're convenient for no one but themselves. What stray wretch have the gods spat out now?"

Integra only sees it as banter at an almost political level; Réjean isn't threatening to set her on fire and skull fuck her, nor is he trying to seduce her into asking to be turned. If it was genuine, she'd be lost, but this is just him being obnoxious. And Integra knows from obnoxious.

"Hierophant, Primogen from Chicago," she says, sliding an ash tray closer to her. She recites these alien terms from memory with ease. "A woman who claims allegiance with the 'Valkyrien Amazons', dedicated to preserving the Masquerade and separating spheres of mortal and immortal. She also used the terms 'kindred' and 'embraced'." Which he'll know that her world does not - as worlds with Hellsing lack any vampire community, thanks to Abraham. "Sound like one of yours?"

"My world, but certainly not one of mine -- we're too clever and good looking to bandy words that like about in polite company."

Réjean smiles and while it's sharp, it's clearly meant to let Integra in on the joke rather than intimidate, "If she gives you trouble, just give her the longest, most complicated law book and a wetnap. You'll have peace for weeks."

"I'm not worried about trouble from her deliberately. She came to me looking for a job." And, privately, she's inclined to give it to her - Mina may be unsteady but if she can pull off a doctor's duties then, well, why not. At least she'd be under supervision. Bloody vampires. "I worry about her mouth stirring unrest in the courts that have remained anonymous."

Integra sips her not-tea. "She asked me if I was the city's 'prince'."

"Most of the courts here follow something close enough to what she's used to that it shouldn't be a problem and if it is, they're self-regulating." In Baedal most vampires are generally smart enough to kill off or sell out to Hellsing their own if they become a nuisance. There aren't that many to begin with and most are painfully aware how important it is to remain on good terms with the local, living populace.

He's already thinking through which other vampires he'll want to keep an eye on when she says 'prince' and the face Réjean makes is truly something spectacular. "I think I've shat myself."

"Charming." Integra sharpens the point of her cigarette on the edge of the ash tray and reflects on that expression with something that's almost one of those almost-a-smile things. (A many layered woman, is she.) "But you can see why I'd like to make sure no one gets a bit too trigger happy about certain topics being hurled about the city over something like culture shock."

"I'd like to tell you that she's probably bright enough to settle in well and hide as she should, but if she's been spouting off like that, then she might not be able to understand territory or build her own pool," he says with a little moue of distaste. Camarilla, can't live with them, slimy bastards are just swift enough to second guess free tickets to a beach holiday in Sunny Florida.

"Want me to talk to her, hein?" He's not offering to be polite, but because if this newcomer is so chatty he wants to make sure she'll know when to be quiet and not draw heat on the rest of the vampire community.

"If you're inspired to," and she truly doesn't have a preference - Integra didn't come here to manipulate him into doing her dirty work. (She would have said so up front, if that was the case.) "I just don't want a war of retribution going on right now."

'Right now' being due to all the new arrivals, and thus the kickup of activity in the political realm; if the under-the-radar vampire community starts being violent, she'll have to let Alucard off his chain. ('Have to'.) And that's always an... experience... for the community.

"Better safe than sorry," he says as mild as milk while dipping a finger into his drink and then drawing on the table in front of them. As he works, there's a little shiver and the bar patrons realign themselves -- it's not that they're ignoring the table so much as they're just unaware there's even a table to pay any attention to.

"This city can't support too many of 'my' kin; we're no sickness or science, but cursed." The constant smile and bonhomie slips for a moment as he continues, "Some traditions can only survive by the hunt and not, as we civilized men do, by trade. I'll talk to her and we'll see what comes of it."

She watches the way he draws, but doesn't comment or even seem to react, beyond that. It's always interesting, these little tricks and power games. With only an admirably slight edge of force, she puts it out of her mind.

"I'll look forward to hearing how it goes." With a nod; do as you will, sir, etc and so forth. Hopefully well - all these orders and courts and societies give her a headache, personally. She's been adapting, in her abducted months abroad, to a field strategy a bit more sophisticated than 'kill them all and let God sort it out', but the instinct is still very much there.

There's a noncommittal noise as he takes a final drink from his mug and puts it aside.

"It may be a while. If the precogs are right, now'd be a good time to blackmail some poor bastard into improving your insurance policies. No details, but ..." Among his own pool, Réjean has a couple of people with precognitive powers -- in exchange for an occasional pint or two, he's able to provide them with better security than they could afford on their own. It's a nasty business but when given a choice between a little bloodletting and being roped into a bookie's tool, a vampire's flock is the lesser of two evils.

"As if precogs ever have details." Some slight asperity, with that one. It's always the same damn thing - looming destruction, impenetrable darkness, so on and so forth. Just once, she'd like to hear of a vision about rainbows and kittens, just for a break in the monotony. "But I'll let him know."

"As always, a pleasure," he replies before dropping a barmat over the glyph and breaking the spell. "Send me her contact information when you can."

Integra puts her cigarette out in her teacup, and blows a smoke ring in Réjean's direction. "Charmed."

(Someone skitters out of her way as she leaves.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

well you may throw your rock and hide your hand

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject