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[thedominatrix]

Who: Irene Adler, Mycroft Holmes
What: Just get in the carriage, Mycroft.
Where: ...a place, followed by The Vault.
When: A little after this.
Notes: Mycroft hates fun, PASS IT ON
Warnings: The Vault, Irene, TBA

First, she sends the bird-drawn carriage. It's her favourite carriage to rent- completely impractical, of course, with the wrought iron of the carriage and white silk cushions providing no shelter from any unfavourable weather conditions and the brightly coloured plumage of the giant, flightless birds that pull it no defence against their unpleasantly loud squawks. She isn't surprised when word is returned to her that he refused to get in, and doesn't give any instructions to force him, simply thanks the driver- already paid- and sends another.

She's not that surprised that the sleek black carriage drawn by graceful black- bears? Yetis? Creatures with beady bright purple eyes is also turned down.

When he refuses the- gorgeous, she thinks- winged lizards, she has to wonder what on earth is wrong with him. Can the man not appreciate a pretty reptile?

(Well, he doesn't like her, so probably not- she has to smile to herself as the joke occurs to her).

Finally, however, she relents, and sends a tasteful, simple carriage with a plush red interior, all dark wood and rich colours, pulled by perfectly ordinary bay horses. There, Mister Holmes. Try it out for size.

In her dressing room at the Vault, Irene ensures the doormen know where to send him, and shoos everybody out, before turning to her dressing table. Now, about lipstick- burgundy? Plum? Coral? Blood?

She twirls an eyeliner pencil in her fingers and pouts at her reflection, and starts applying her armour.

Comments

[diogenesis]

Mycroft watches the streets pass from the corner of his eye.

The City looks different at night, more so than most other cities Mycroft has been in. The mood changes quickly from neighborhood to neighborhood: the sleepy oil lamps and hushed woods of Sobek Croix turn into a multitude of small, bright lights and crowded windows in Flyside. Griss Twist next, Mycroft predicts, and soon enough Flyside is exchanged for the sound of music coming from open bars, signs directing visitors toward the Arena and the Temples, and a pervasive feeling that everyone here has just woken up.

The carriage he's in gets a couple glances as it goes by various clubs and shops, but the looks are no more than passing curiosities to do with the admittedly out-of-place nature of the vehicle. Regardless of whether it suits the neighborhood Irene is bringing him to, the carriage suits him, and that's all Mycroft's ever concerned with regarding fashion.

On the topic of fashion, he finds it curious that Irene Adler would be in a place like Griss Twist, right up until he enters the Vault.

Although he's taken quickly back to her dressing room, the impression Mycroft gets of the lobby tells him a horribly simple prank has been played. Why he ever trusted Adler to have tact in the first place, he'll never know. He's an adult, though, and if she's trying to test him, she'll find he's not as easy a subject as his little brother.

He knocks two times at a polite volume, and waits.

[thedominatrix]

The Vault is Irene's kind of place. What can she say? It's a home away from home.

"Come in!"

Oh, he's fun to mess around with. What can she say? She likes his brother more, of course- he's wilder, funnier, more dangerous, more her type, and those cheekbones- but a Holmes is a Holmes is a Holmes.

She's been kind enough to put on clothes. She is, however, working- sort of- so really that isn't saying much. She's perched on her dressing table, bare legs crossed, in a lace bodysuit and wicked-looking black platforms with dangerous looking metal heels, and...diamond earrings. That's all.

For those wondering about the lipstick, she went for 'blood'. Not a surprise, really.

Her dressing room is red with low, glowing lights- yes, alright, brothel decor. It smells of perfume and sweat and makeup and sex and is distinctly warm, even close. Irene likes it. Bringing him here isn't just a prank, after all. It's bringing him onto her territory, where she's in charge.

Her riding crop's in her hand. It's purely for effect, of course.

"You're expensive company, Mister Holmes," she tells him. "Costing me time and money. I'm on the clock." Meaning she should be working the floor rather than having private visitors in her dressing room (at least, not for free). And yet that bright red grin suggests she wouldn't have this meeting any other way. "Take a seat."

[diogenesis]

Mycroft looks around for somewhere suitable to sit, but there aren't many options. He decides to go for a plain-looking stool that, despite its inoffensive looks, has surely seen its share of sin. Ah, yes, from this angle he can see tooth marks in the wood. Delightful.

"I wasn't the one who scheduled this meeting, Ms Adler," he says, crossing his legs and smoothing his suit (it's difficult to look dignified while sitting on a stool, but difficulty never stopped Mycroft). "Nor was I the one who wasted both our time with those ridiculous carriages, though I'm sure the amusement must have been worth it to you."

His tone is unaffected, his expression 'vaguely interested.' He's not concerned about Irene's time or money. Neither is Irene. They'll both do things exactly the way they want them done, regardless of their surroundings. Mycroft knows that if this job were to get in Irene's way, she'd toss it aside without hesitation.

[thedominatrix]

"Now, now. You were the one being dreadfully stubborn about getting in," she points out, smiling widely.

'Vaguely interested' indeed. Mycroft Holmes doesn't move for vague interest. He moves out of necessity- and he's moved to come here, which is both pleasing and telling.

"So. Let's be totally frank with each other, how about that?" ...And he gets a sharp smile, because of course being totally frank isn't exactly her area. "You first. How's Baedal treating you?"

[diogenesis]

Being totally frank is as much Mycroft's area as it is Irene's. He offers an obviously false smile with a side expression of 'Ha ha, aren't you clever,' and says, "Apparently not as well as it is you, although I can't say I'm surprised. Your profession is rather... portable, is it not?"

And in a place like Baedal, Mycroft knows that not only are there plenty of secrets to be found, but that a sex club will be one of the best places to find them. The number of politicians and other influential persons on Earth who have been laid low thanks to seduction is astronomical. He can't imagine this place being any different. Irene should thrive on it.

[thedominatrix]

"Well, of course," she agrees cheerfully, eyebrows raised- everything about her suggests that she's being pleasant, charming, a people person through and through. Save for the riding crop and the see-through ensemble, that is, and the fact that she's flanked on either side by lipstick and dildos.

(All in a night's work).

For a moment she's all big eyes, mock innocent and genuinely patronising, cooing, "Everybody's got a kink, no matter who they are or where they come from." She smirks at him. "I bet that even goes for you, Mr Holmes."

It feels a little strange calling him Mr Holmes when it's his brother she's used to using that name for- but nevermind.

[diogenesis]

Mycroft's smile gains an edge that wasn't previously there.

"I'm afraid that possibility is not related to the type of business I've come here to discuss tonight." As though he'd needed any further proof that Irene isn't bothered about her schedule. She's just toying with him now.

There are times when Mycroft is content to let others act out their dramas in front of him—it makes them feel more confident, more like they have a chance at getting the upper hand, and in turn they become much easier to manipulate. He's already seen Irene's act, however, and what lies beneath is a woman who could crush nations with these simple kinds of games.

Safest to cut straight to the point, then.