Royal Pain in the- {backdated to the 20th}

[dirtyredneck]

The request for discretion in the matter of the kidnapping and rescue didn't surprise him. It happened quite a bit, especially for those who were higher profile in the London social circles - both supernatural and not. The divulging of who was actually in trouble and who they were related to, however, had Daryl walking on a tight rope while trying to track down whatever leads he could.

[ooc: kidnapping plot I was supposed to put log up for last week. Sorry for the late!]

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Natasha

[dirtyredneck]

Being as she was the only vampire he'd had more than a passing contact with - and even then it wasn't exactly much - she was still the first person he went to. He wasn't sure if she was part of Isllington, and if she was, there could be a real conflict of interest, but she'd also been pretty straightforward with him as far as he could tell. He felt confident she'd at least let him know there was a conflict if it was there at all, even if she wasn't willing to help in any other way.

The invitation to dinner was sent with a 'not a date. need to talk. business.' note just so she knew what was up on his end. With an addendum of 'please come.' to make it sound less harsh. The place he'd picked was one of those restaurants with an outdoor patio where they could talk and it would be a lot harder for anyone to listen in on them. Unfortunately because of the sort it was, he'd had to dress up a little. Clean grey slacks and a button up white shirt under his vest. Hair brushed out instead of just left to fall wherever. He cleaned up pretty well.

[outstandingbalance]

Natasha almost laughs aloud at Daryl's message. She could hear his voice in it, the awkwardness around social interaction, the concern that she might mistake this for a date and anxiety that she might not show up if she thought it weren't.

She's not offended. She does dress up for the meeting though. No reason not to take advantage of the situation, in a little black dress and bold lipstick.

She sits down across from him on the patio, making herself comfortable.

"You wanted to talk?"

[dirtyredneck]

He gave her a quick, but noticeable, look over before clearing his throat and looking away with cough and a nod of his head, "Yeah. Need to talk about one of your uh... fellows." Daryl hoped that would be enough to clue her in that he was asking about vampires in general. She was smart, he so his hopes were high. But he couldn't exactly say 'vamps' in public like they were. And he wanted someplace that made it look like they were being sociable and not meeting to potentially swap information.

"I uh... I already ordered some drinks. Should be here soon. You're okay with whiskey, right?" Which the waiter had given him a curious look over, but hadn't made any noise about.

[outstandingbalance]

"Just fine," Natasha says easily. "I'm not picky."

Her expression becomes more shuttered, though; she follows his implication, and the fact this is about vampires does it. This month has been a bad one for the nest—a nest she's not a part of, but she doubts when the vampire hunters start moving they're going to pay much attention to that distinction.

"My fellows. I'm not sure I'd call them that. More... distant relatives." Mostly it's a different bloodline entirely here, but close enough. "They've been getting into trouble lately."

[dirtyredneck]

"Yeah. Getting other people into trouble, too," he said with hard edge as his lips thinned into a line. "Looking for one of them that did that. Says he's having too good a time with her and won't let us know where she's at unless someone ponies up a nice vacation package."

When the whiskey arrived, the waiter stayed, expecting an order. Daryl pointed to one of the stakes, asked for it rare, waved the man over to her to get him gone as quickly as possible.

[outstandingbalance]

Natasha doesn't respond to his comment while the waiter is there, for obvious reasons, asking for lamb. It doesn't have all the flavor it used to, but she thinks she could enjoy it at least.

No reason not to enjoy herself.

When their orders are in, she takes a whiskey and swirls it thoughtfully. "So it's ransom? At least that means there's a reason to keep her alive and unturned—do you have proof of life?"

[dirtyredneck]

"He's threatening to sire her if her family don't pay up," he said plainly now that the threat of interruption was over with for the time being. Daryl leaned in a bit so he didn't have to let his voice carry. They both had exceptional hearing anyway. "The family can't give him what he wants and they can't let him sire her, neither. Things would go pretty sideways for them if either happened. This is on top of their concern for her safety. Family's pretty loaded, good connections. They managed to figure out his name, who he's affiliated with, but they can't go in and do nothing. And they can't figure out where in the Nest he's hiding."

[outstandingbalance]

"Makes sense." And explains why he reached out to her; she was what she was, and while she might not be part of the nest, she's not stupid enough not to keep an ear and an eye on it where she could. She didn't think Daryl had many other vampire contacts.

"If you don't mind me asking, I have two questions."

She sips her whiskey knowing full well just how these are going to sound, but she needs to know the answers before the conversation goes any further. Some things were better out in the open than danced around. And Natasha wasn't actually in a rush to throw herself into another vampire kidnapping so soon after the last one.

"First: is there a particular reason the family won't pay out? A safe exchange would probably be the most reliable way to get her back."

[dirtyredneck]

"Yeah," he said, shooting the rest of his whiskey before setting the glass down - upside down - on the side of the table. "There is. Money ain't the only thing he's asking for. Like I said, they're loaded. With good connections."

Faolan

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl was no longer sure about going to Faolan for anything, but the man had still been around the clan for a lot longer than Daryl had. He had years of experience and connections. Might even recognize the name of the vampire supposedly behind the kidnapping - assuming the actual name Daryl had sussed out was correct in any way. If he'd been a shifter, he would have asked him to have a good sniff of the paper and see if he could recognize the scent on it.

It had been a little over a month since the last time Daryl had stepped into Faolan's office. He felt uneasy doing it, but he it had to be done. He knocked quietly on the door frame before leaning against it and crossing his arms. His voice was soft as he murmured, "Got a minute?"

[reticence]

Faolan looks up from where he sits behind his desk, more than a little shocked to have Daryl knocking quietly on his door of all people. He hadn't exactly left things on a good note with the other man when last he had stepped into his office. He hadn't exactly knocked quietly upon entering that time either.

"Daryl," he says, sounding just about as surprised as he is before he pushes back from his desk. "Of course, I. You can sit, if you like." He gestures to the chair across from him, although he's fairly certain the other man will stand regardless. They're not exactly back on good terms, after all.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl didn't move from his spot against the door frame. He was fine where he was.

"Won't be long," he started, just to assure Faolan that no, things had not changed significantly since the last time they'd spoken. And that he didn't need to sit. "Need to know if you recognize a name. Lucius Vonnor."

[reticence]

Faolan nods. He'd figured as much. That Daryl wasn't going to be here to make peace. He can't say that he blames him, all things considered.

He raises an eyebrow at the name. "Lucius Vonnor?" he repeats, before shaking his head. "Can't say that I do. What about him?" He wants to ask what the man has done, but that's probably assuming too much.

[dirtyredneck]

That was disappointing. But it wasn't like Daryl's hopes had been riding on it. To the question he gave a shrug, a thumb straying to his mouth unconsciously, "It might be the name of a guy that pulled a kidnapping a few days back. Ain't sure if it's the right one or not. Vampire."

During those three days of everyone watching their assess because the Islington leader was a real bitch and a half.

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows at the explanation. If the name had been anyone of any real importance, he would have heard of it, but he honestly doesn't think he can place it.

"Sorry, don't know that I recognize the name," he apologizes. "Who else is involved, then? And what would suggest that it's a kidnapping, rather than..." He trails off, but they both know the other potentials. "Has there been a ransom requested?" He's never heard of such a thing happening before but he supposes there's a first time for everything, after all.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl shook his head, keeping his answer to a simple "Yeah". He'd been contacted privately rather than through the request board by one of the non-hunter members of Hillingdon. With the particulars of who the family was, he wasn't surprised the job didn't get shopped around enough for the rest of the house to get wind of it. Hell, with who was involved, Daryl expected he was probably not the first choice. But he had no way of really knowing for sure.

"Rest of the answers I've been asked to keep as private as possible. But if you hear anything on that name, let me know."

[reticence]

Faolan makes a low 'hmm' in the back of his throat, but he nods in response to the other man's request. It bothers him, being kept in the dark like this. He wonders whether Daryl would have told him if they had not had their falling out, over his position in the Night Council. Though he supposes it's better that the other man is talking to him now at least.

He shifts awkwardly in his seat, biting his lip for a moment before speaking up. "Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?" He doesn't know how much help he'll be on the information, but he can organize supplies, manpower, you name it. He recognizes that he's got a lot that he owes him -- that he owes all of them really.

Jean-Claude

[dirtyredneck]

The nightclub was not the place Daryl usually found himself in. Strippers just weren't his thing in general so strip clubs weren't high on his list of places to go. Strip clubs run by vampires even more so. But apparently there was another kidnapping during the so-called 'bloodfest' and the two may or may not have been related. Eliminating that possibility was a good step to take. Which was how Daryl found himself in the business office of a place he wouldn't have normally stepped foot in unless Merle dragged him along.

He cleared his throat and nodded in greeting, "Hi."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude turns to the man in front of him and a smile breaks wide on his face as he takes him in. And it's fairly clear from the look of it that Jean-Claude likes what he sees. Obvious would probably be a better way of saying it. He is not exactly the regular sort that should come calling in Guilty Pleasures. Not that Jean-Claude is complaining. Rather the opposite, in fact.

"Bonne nuit," he responds, inclining his head at the other man with a knowing smile as he steps closer in turn. "Forgive me, yet I cannot help but ask if you are lost in here, mon ami." Jean-Claude's voice is low, smooth, and French-accented. And he sounds just about as pleased as he is to be speaking to this new stranger, even at such a time as this.

[dirtyredneck]

Even with the name 'Jean-Claude' Daryl had not been expecting such an obvious and pronounced French accent. The kind that words rolled off the tongue like honey, all syrupy sweet and heavy with promises of indulgent pleasure. And that was on top of the way the man was eyeing Daryl like he wanted to do a whole lot more than just eat him. Much as he tried to hide it, Daryl couldn't quiet stop the nervous way he gulped down some air and his arms found themselves crossing his chest so his hands could grip the armholes of his vest. Tightly. He didn't really think about how much better it showed off his arms because it mostly to keep himself from biting at his thumbs and betraying how flustered he suddenly felt at the attention he was getting. Like he'd somehow stepped into a spotlight.

"No," he answered, his own accent getting gruffer and more noticeable. "Ain't lost. Was told there'd been a kidnapping of one of the workers and you'd bee the guy to talk to about it."

[baisant]

Oh, the accent is charming, Jean-Claude notes to himself, and yes as a matter of fact, crossing his arms like that does show his arms off rather nicely, all things considered.

Of course, the mention of his kidnapped dancer certainly is slightly sobering, but Jean-Claude takes it in stride, bowing his head slightly at the mention of the deed. "I am the owner of this establishment, so yes. If you would like to speak about Cherry, then it is indeed myself that you seek."

He cocks his head at the other man slightly, before indicating a door by the side of the bar, marked 'Employees Only'. "Would you not join me somewhere more private, mon ami?" He quirks something of a smile again in turn. "Unless you would prefer our present circumstances for conversation." Beyond them, on the stage, one of Jean-Claude's best dancers is giving it his all.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl had been avoiding looking at the stage since his arrival, keeping his back to it. Though at the suggestion he might like to stay, he did what most people would do and turned to glance around. He quickly turned back, shoulders tightening and lifting up towards his ears as he did best to hide any further reaction to the sight of the very skilled man clearly thrilling the rest of the crowd.

"Private's good," he said a bit too quickly, swallowing hard and looking off to the side, trying not to let them settle lest he focus too much on something he'd regret.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude offers the other man a smile, especially at the set to his shoulders and the fact that he can tell that this is a man very far out of his element and without a rock to stand on, as it were. He knows not to push him too far lest he topple over, but he'll be damned if he isn't at least somewhat tempted.

"Come this way, then," he says, and steps back to lead the other man back through the Employee's Only door and down the hallway until they reach his office. Ushering him in before closing the door behind him. The place is immaculate, decorated minimally but with Jean-Claude's obvious touches on it. Large black lacquered desk, white sofa, white carpet, black leather chairs -- it's all very much to his tastes. "Would you care to sit, mon ami?" he offers, and beckons him forward to one of the chairs as he all but folds himself into the sofa in turn. No one should be able to cross their legs like this in leather pants but somehow, Jean-Claude manages.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl followed after, all his personal motions taunt and tight, like he was trying to keep everything about himself as close as possible. He was completely out of place and the even getting away from the public fascade of the place didn't do anything to ease his sense of discomfort. Hell, the leather chairs, which should have been welcoming, only made him more aware of just how dirty he currently was. Which, honestly, wasn't a lot, but he was far from immaculate. The black leather was probably the better choice, regardless, so he was glad for the small mercy that he'd been invited to sit in them and not on the couch.

Still, when he did sit, he sat on the very edge of the chair. He let his hands drop into his lap and leaned forward a bit before finding that too uncomfortable and having to sit up because of the edge of the chair digging into his ass. His own fault, but hell, he didn't want to leave smudges and get billed for the cleaning.

"Ain't gonna be long," he attempted to assure the other man, but really, he was reassuring himself.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude regards the other man and his uncomfortable shifting and, well, his discomfort in general and cannot help but think to himself how charming he is. How refreshing it is to have someone like this pay him a visit. It rather reminds him of when Lancelot had come to play bodyguard for his Politics Theme Night. He wonders whether this man would consider such an offer. He would certainly pay him handsomely. And he'd enjoy getting to admire him for the evening besides.

"Do not worry," he reassures, cocking his head at the other man with a smile. "Ask your questions, mon cher, it is only us here." He only barely restrains himself from commenting that he would give him the whole evening, if he required it of him. But he manages it. Sometimes being a man like Jean-Claude is knowing when to exercise at least some modicum of self-control.