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

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

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 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?"

"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."

"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."

"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."

"I follow. Even if they were willing to pay, they can't bring other people into it." Which was still a line they chose not to cross, but perhaps a more sympathetic one. It went further than just the family.

"Last question, then. Are we sure the girl doesn't want this?" she knows how that sounds—cold, suspicious of a human who was at this point most likely scared for her life. But Natasha also knew it could be more complicated than that—and it may be more complicated than whether or not she had consented or conspired with this plan. If her mind had been played with, she might want it with all her being and still be a victim. "If she does, finding her and getting her out could be real ugly real quick."

"Pretty sure. 'Girl' is 67 and just happened to frequent the bar she got escorted from a couple times a week," he leaned back as he explained, fingers picking at the cloth napkin next to his plate. "She's a regular human, no connections to our world. She's just public enough in the upper social circles that sticking around longer than a few decades could cause a problem, but not so public that she gets paid undo attention when at pubs."

Age wasn't a disqualifying factor. She wouldn't be the first person to turn later in life—though usually when it happened, the human was the one who sought it out to start with. Vampires themselves tended to be drawn to people still young and full of juice.

"Good to know. That'll make them easier to spot."

Natasha didn't seem opposed to helping him, but he still didn't know if she was with the Nest or if she'd commit to anything specific just yet. And so far he'd been the one laying his cards on the table. Before he told her anything more, he really needed to know he could trust her on this.

"If I give you the name I was given, and you know it, will you point me in the right direction?"

"If I can. I can't make any promises." She doesn't want to give him any false hope. Her contacts in the Islington nest are few and it's hard to say what they'll give her when she comes asking. "I'm not part of the nest. But I might be able to get you a lead—a name, something like that."

There was a shift in the set of his shoulders when she said she wasn't with the Nest. But that was the only outward sign he hadn't been sure of that.

"Lucius Vonnor. That's who supposedly did this," he said, eyes shifting behind her before he lifted his chin in warning that the waiter was on his way.

She smiles. That's all she needed to know for now anyway. Either she'll find out where he is from the name, or she won't be able to help.

She leans back, murmuring thanks to the waiter as he lays their food in front of them and assuring him that everything looks wonderful. She doesn't address Daryl again until he's gone.

"I'll call you before sunrise. Sound fair?"

"Yeah. Sure," he agreed as he leaned forward again. This time to grab his fork and start digging into his steak. He would have been a lot more comfortable eating with his hands and ripping into it with sharper teeth, but he managed to keep his eating polite. Even if it wasn't quite bloody and raw enough for his taste, it was still pretty good.

"You been doing okay?"

Do forgive him as he licks his fingers, though, won't you, Nat?

She smiles slightly as she watches him, somehow finding it in herself to look past his table manners. She'd call it a cat thing, but she's not entirely sure it's that.

"No complaints, at least. It's been a rough month, but keeping out of trouble. I'm not here for trouble."

Daryl nodded, a small one that didn't interrupt his eating. He waited until he'd had a good half the steak gone and was reaching for his water before he spoke again, keeping his head down as he looked over at her and asked, "How's your meal?"

He was trying to fill the silence more than anything else. But he wasn't really sure what else to say right then since the business part had been concluded for the time being.

"Want a bite?" she asks, pushing her plate toward him invitingly. She's eaten much less quickly than he has, not having a particular appetite but going through the motions. The lamb shank is clearly high quality and well prepared, and she can appreciate the flavor and texture even if it does even less to satisfy her thirst than the whiskey does.

"I'm almost certainly not going to finish it, but it's good."

Daryl's eyes darted around to make sure no one was looking their way before he stretched his arms over to cut a small piece off and give it a try. It was pretty juicy, though even less raw than his own meal and for that lacked the flavor he often craved.

"Not bad," he agreed, though he didn't make any motions to go and grab more. "Ain't bloody enough, though.

Natasha shrugs at that, her smile turning... not exactly strained, but less honest. More rueful. "Never is," she says, pulling her plate back and taking another bite. "It's better this way."

He watched her for a long moment as she went back to eating. He hadn't been paying attention before, but now that he was, he could tell how unsatisfying her meal was. More so than his own. He didn't mind the occasional cooked mean, was even decent sometimes. But Natasha... she had a taste for blood. And only blood.

"You uh... you don't get enough to eat or something?" He asked, trying to skirt saying anything explicit. He assumed she fed on other people, but the way she was talking...

Apparently Natasha gave away more than she intended. It's a statement about how much that weighed on her mind, she supposes. She shrugs of his question, not going to get angry at herself about it.

"That depends on what you mean by not eating enough," she tells him, also very aware of the fact they're in public. "I've been trying to change my diet." She smiles very slightly, glancing up at him around another bite of lamb. "So far, it hasn't been entirely satisfying."

If that wasn't code for 'feeding on animals' he didn't know what could be. Daryl chewed at his lip for a moment before offering a grunt and a nod to indicate he understood what she was saying. Couldn't much get around the whole not being satisfied by non-human blood thing. Saying he hoped it would get better would probably sound patronizing.

And since he didn't want to say that an didn't know what else to say, he fell silent while he finished his meal.

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

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