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

[longterm]

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!

Comments

[falsify]

"Straight to the insults? That is rather unbecoming of a host." Eames' smile goes nowhere, and he takes a sip of his wine. It's not that he thinks himself invincible — in fact he is highly aware that being here is flirting with imminent death — but he's not afraid. He could take a lot of people with him and cause a hell of a lot of collateral damage if someone intended to start something with him, and that in itself is a rather satisfying thought.

"Then again," he drawls, fingers trailing the stem of his glass idly, "your kind has never had much care for proper hospitality, have they?"

[longterm]

"Oh," Cesare replies, feigning displeasure at Eames' comment as if that were the thing angering him and not the man's gall. "I wouldn't say that. We host fantastic dinner parties." His tongue dips out of his mouth to lick the side of his lip for the slightest of seconds. It's a reflex. Cesare has drunk fae blood before. It may be a vice but he would be lying if he said he weren't at least a little tempted to try it again tonight.

"You should join us for one sometime." Although it's pretty damn clear that Eames would be a course rather than a guest.

[falsify]

"You'll have to forgive me if I pass," he responds lightly, as if it's really just a casual dinner invite he's passing up here. As if he's totally unaware of the temptation he can see on Cesare right now. Eames refills his glass idly, thankfully the last glass of the bottle, and takes a sip. "I think my tastes would run a little contrary to that of your guests."

Unless Cesare happens to know a bunch of vampires who desperately want to know what a chest full of wood feels like. Then Eames is eminently willing to help with that.

[longterm]

Cesare isn't going to push the point. He thinks he has made it fairly clear already: fae can be as belligerent or puff up their chests as much as they want. At the end the day, they are a mere meal to vampires. The chance that those meals might fight back and cause him a considerable problem (and perhaps death) does not quite dawn on him. He is too comfortable in his own building for that to happen.

He runs his hand across the back of Eames' chair calmly, almost absent mindedly.

"This is a peaceful place. Come here again and that will change."

[falsify]

And now it's the threats. Eames rolls his eyes and sighs, apparently not at all feeling the danger he's supposed to. Of course he's aware he's in a lion's den here, but he's not about to run home and hide.

"I go where I please, Borgia." And he'll not let that change. Eames has no intention of coming back here anyway, but he's hardly about to let Cesare think he feels threatened. "Let's not ruin your beautiful establishment because you can't help marking your territory."

[longterm]

"I do not doubt that. I am certain you can flutter wherever your glittering fae heart desires. But I am very poor at bluffing and I do not make false threats."

Cesare is a man who can be adamant and brash to a fault. If he threatens a man, he intends to carry it out if he needs to, even if that means doing it by hand himself. In his eyes a man's words are only powerful if he keeps to them. Cesare intends to do exactly that.

But Cesare has made his stance clear. They both know where they stand. Perhaps Cesare should leave Eames alone at this point and let him finish his drink and leave as soon as possible, but where is the fun in that? This is an opportunity. Eames is in his realm and he's going to make the most of it.

Cesare gestures for a waiter to get him a drink before sitting down to get comfortable opposite Eames. "So tell me: why here of all places?"

[falsify]

Eames doesn't think of the threat as false, and he all but rolls his eyes at the confirmation. It's like Cesare thinks he's unaware of the danger, and Eames just doesn't have the patience for all this bluster right now. It almost makes him want to egg the man on, see how strong the vampire really is, but he won't. He's not an idiot.

Ugh. But now he's sitting too? Eames gives him a look of tired disinterest across the table, "wasn't my idea, in truth." Eames gestures absently at the bottle of wine on the table, "but you have an excellent selection, might as well enjoy the good things in this rat's nest."

[longterm]

Cesare laughs, pulling a wry smile.

"You are kind, Mr Eames. From a fae like you, that's practically glowing." A waiter quickly puts a napkin on the table and hands Cesare a glass of scotch. It's difficult to keep Cesare away from his scotch.

"Who brought you here? Did they know what they were doing or are your friends simply oblivious? Either way, I suggest you might think about changing friends..." Your friends are idiots, Eames, sorry to say.

[falsify]

He wasn't a friend, but the man is definitely an idiot, Eames won't disagree. A rich idiot with no idea of the market value when it comes to stolen artefacts, so Eames is quite keen not to let him go just yet.

Still, he does huff a laugh at Cesare's 'suggestion'. "I know a lot of people," he says, swilling his glass idly while he talks, "some of them are... just a little ignorant, shall we say."