undergrounds | There's a place I know I can always go (Open)

It's been a while since Cesare was last in London. He had...other issues to attend to in other countries. But now that he's back, he wants to immerse himself in his surroundings. Cesare is not exactly the type of man to spend any extended period of time with strangers so voluntarily, but he wants to pick up the pulse of London again, see how it's moving nowadays. And where better to do that than on his home turf?

Cesare is lurking in a corner of a lounge at The Angelo, sitting in an armchair and sipping an Old Fashioned (the irony isn't lost on him). He doesn't look particularly remarkable, at least when compared to the hotel's typical clientèle of businessmen in suits and high flyers with a little too much time on their hands. In fact, Cesare has gone out of his way to blend in. He holds a paper as if he actually cares about standard current affairs and looks at his phone every so often as if he finds it useful and not newfangled and pointless. You would probably have to know who Cesare was to spot him. Constantly, though, he's watching.

A. Can I buy you a drink?
Eventually someone catches his eye at the bar. Are they familiar? Does Cesare know them? Perhaps. Do they just seem interesting? Just as possible.

Cesare leaves his paper on the lounge chair and sits himself down next to them. He smirks, his manner calm and collected. You're in his home. He's comfortable.

"What do you drink?"

B. What are you doing here?
Someone is here who shouldn't be. They could be an old foe who has grown over confident with Cesare's absence. They could be the wrong type of person for this type of hotel. They could simply not have paid.

Either way, they shouldn't be here. Cesare quietly makes his way up to them. When he speaks, his tone is polite and cordial but there's something slightly too piercing about his gaze and he's standing a little too close to them for comfort.

"Something tells me you might be lost."

C. Can I speak to a manager?
Someone isn't happy. In fact, they are really quite frustrated. One of the hotel staff has messed up royally and someone is demanding that they speak to a higher up about it. This needs to be fixed. Something has to be done and Cesare is happy enough to oblige. With his façade of a casual hotel guest ruined he smiles as the waiter anxiously frets.

"I'm certain that we can sort this out."

D. Pick your own adventure! Choose something else!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Evie doesn't stop herself from pursing her lips, her glass nearly to her lips. "You could, just not locals or those that didn't want it." Carefully spoken. She knows many vampires always ate around those rules. Evie was a fan of blood banks. It didn't taste as good, but it was better than the alternative, like poor Natasha was doing- though Evie was unaware.

Harris was younger, though. Near her age. "None of us are partial to young leaders." Those that have been around for thousand of years tended to lead, because that's the way it always had been.

"Perhaps he's behind it."

Cesare shrugs and nods, pondering over Evie's words.

"I think that entirely possible." In fact, he wouldn't be even remotely surprised. Harris is far too young for his position. He has to have done a considerable amount of moving and shaking to get it. The chance that some of those movements were illegal seems rather high. Millicent's death was exceptionally convenient.

"But then again, I wasn't there. You were though." He leans in, resting his elbows on his knees, and gives Evie a look that says "go on, tell me your insight, if you have one. I'm curious."

Perfect. Get them looking from within- anyone should be suspicious of Harris, even if, as far as she knew, the two were unrelated. There's no reason to think the wolves supported Harris' policies. None at all.

But now he wants to know more. "I believe Harris is responsible, yes. The girl in question- perhaps she was put up to it. Blackmailed- we've all heard the stories about the pizza man being forced into robbing banks or else they'll be blown up. I wouldn't wonder if this is any different."

She pauses to take a sip of the drink. "But it's a pity they won't take her alive."

"You think she would tell us anything anyway? Something had a mighty hold over her if it made her do something like that. I suspect it might be strong enough to keep her lips sealed too."

Cesare is a man with considerable experience at coercing information out of people. In his eyes, he knows that few things other than torture will get a person to speak, and by then the words that come out of their mouth are untrustworthy. A person will say anything or anyone to make enough pain stop. Whether those words are accurate or not is another story completely.

"If there is a mystery to be solved here, I fear we may need to use other sources instead."

"Perhaps not." He had a very good point there.

"We don't even know if she acted alone, or on the orders of another." Evie didn't know, either. And she didn't want to find out. There were no witnesses that could place her at the scene, she'd been sure of that.

Even then, what had she done? She'd killed a guard. She could say she had been keeping watch independently when she noticed the commotion, went in to see what was going on, and got confused in the smoke. Didn't come forward because she knew how it looked. There we go. An alibi if need be.

She didn't think she'd need it.

"Only time will tell, and we have a considerably larger amount than any of the wolves."

If Evie voiced her concerns to Cesare, he would have immediately offered to help her: ask one of the more trusted employees to fabricate her an alibi, one that had enough distance from Cesare that it wasn't suspicious. He would have placed her across town, with witnesses and receipts to prove it. Cesare is not beyond a bit of duplicity to help a friend.

Cesare laughs.

"I suppose you're right. If another leader doesn't swoop in to take the title and distract us again. Whatever happens, I doubt this transition will be smooth. I suspect there are others already planning to overthrow him."

He doesn't ask whether or not she's seen any people with such plans. That would be impolite. Perhaps one night when they have had dinner, are sitting in comfortable armchairs and are adequately appeased with wine.

Perhaps, though she trusted few outside of the Brotherhood, in the end. But that's her fault, in the end, for keeping her lips sealed.

"Oh, of course. Which-" she shakes her head. "The girl acted hastily." So did Evie. She should have taken her time, found someone suitable of taking Millicent's place. "We've seen so many regime changes in our lifetimes, I don't suppose this one will be much different. But if anyone is looking to act- I hope they've already found a suitable replacement."

Cesare pulls a wry smile. "They fancy themselves to be suitable, I have no doubt." Whether they are actually good leaders or not is another story. Quite frankly, though, Cesare is a bit jealous, frustrated that he hadn't come back sooner or had not left in the first place, almost as soon as the political climate was becoming difficult. It was poor timing on his part. He should have been there when Millicent died, but instead had thrown his time in London away in search of his sister. It was poor strategy and Cesare had thought himself to be above than that.

He looks at Evie for a second, curious.

"You think you know someone who might act?"

"Oh, of course." What were vampires if not for their delusions of grandeur? Many of them had it, you did nothing but accumulate wealth some decades, but the very idea of vampires were so heavily romanticized even amongst themselves that it made sense.

"But I haven't heard any plans. As much as I wish I did." Then she'd have somewhere to move with this.

There's a place I know I can always go (Open)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject