undergrounds | HOUNSLOW TERRITORY CLAIM

Jean-Claude. A vampire. And not just any vampire at that. Faolan's hackles are instantly on the rise. What's he doing, sending him gifts like that? Maybe it is an old-fashioned gesture as Lancelot assumes, but what more could there be to it besides that. An old-fashioned gesture of what.

"He didn't give you any indication of why?" Faolan asks, forcing himself to stay calm and think rationally about this. Looking away from the flowers -- roses, he thinks to himself -- helps a little. Watching Lancelot work helps a little more.

"He said it was 'for my trouble'. Which trouble he didn't specify."

Since Lancelot has had no shortage of vampire-related trouble, although not all of it involves Jean-Claude himself. The most recent seems to be the most likely, but why would he feel the need to make a gesture when it hadn't been involved?

Unless he has, Lancelot supposes, and the thought gives him a slightly shiver of unease.

Faolan's body language is very tense as he thinks about the idea of the gift, and the knowledge that it must mean that Jean-Claude knows where Lancelot lives. Although he supposes that the vampires do, considering how closely Lancelot was taken to home. It isn't a happy thought.

"For your trouble," Faolan repeats, tensing with anger despite his best efforts to hold himself together, to keep calm. "What a load of shit," he continues, not realizing he's speaking aloud until the words are out in the air between them. Somehow, the knowledge that he has seems to cool his steam a little, and he glances over apologetically at the other man. "I'm sorry," he adds. "I just..." He gestures behind him to the gift itself. "I wouldn't be making such friends if I were you." Where was he when his people were forcibly kidnapping Lancelot and holding him captive? What good is a suit and a bunch of flowers against that?

He gives the pan another stir before lifting his eyes to study Faolan once more, eyebrows quirking a little at the outburst and somewhat unsolicited advice.

"The fact that he has sent me things does not automatically make us friends, Faolan. I'm not so materialistic as that. How hungry are you?"

A topic that isn't vampires or food or flowers -- perhaps if Lancelot can plate up some food Faolan will calm down a little and stop focusing on them. He can hope, anyway.

It's true, Faolan thinks after a moment. The vampire has stabbed him before, among other things, so he supposes it's hardly a good start for a friendship for anyone. Even someone as kind and forgiving as Lancelot himself.

The abrupt question does what Lancelot wants it to, as Faolan looks suddenly at the pan that the other man is stirring and shrugs slightly before admitting, somewhat abashedly, "I... It will probably be the first and only real meal I have today, if I'm being honest," he admits. He's been busy. When he gets busy, he loses track of time and puts things off until he has no choice in the matter. It's how he had lost track of time the night Lancelot had been kidnapped. And how he, frequently, finds himself staring 5 o'clock in the face wondering whether he's had anything to eat but coffee all day.

He's not at all surprised, in all honesty he didn't really need to ask -- but it was both polite and it worked as hoped, distracting Faolan from his line of inquiry. He tips a last few things into the pan for a few seconds of frying before turning off the heat and beginning to plate up some of it for them.

"There's plenty more," he adds, "if you decide you're still hungry. You mentioned you'd like to talk about something, though...?"

Lancelot sets down a plate for Faolan and jogs an eyebrow questioningly, leaving it up to him if he'd prefer to defer whatever that topic is until after he's eaten or launch into it now.

Faolan glances down at the plate of food and then back up at Lancelot himself. It's true, he does want to talk. He's not certain whether wanting to talk will ruin the food or not. Would it be inappropriate to make the other man talk while they eat? He's never been a very good judge of these things.

He shrugs slightly, deciding that there's no use waiting or beating around the bush. "I do, yeah," he confirms, glancing up at the other man to clarify, lest he start to grow nervous with the various possible topics that Faolan could be coming to him with, before continuing, "It's. About Hillingdon. And, well. Sylvia Redbright, to be honest. Since you're familiar with both, I thought maybe... Talking this out with you may not be a bad idea after all."

Hillingdon and Sylvia? In some ways an odd combination, but considering Faolan's personal situation perhaps not. He frowns in thought, padding back into the kitchen to serve himself some food then carrying it back and dropping into a seat.

"I can certainly listen, although how much help I will be I cannot say. I'm afraid most of my experience with Hillingdon is you."

A somewhat limited niche in that respect, since Faolan is not Hillingdon in its entirety.

Faolan shakes his head slightly. "It's not Hillingdon that I've come to you about," he says, honestly, because he knows that in all truth he knows more about his own organization than Lancelot could himself. And even if he explained, well. It would only be the information as told through his eyes.

"No, I mean. You've dealt with Sylvia. You work with her. You..." He trails off slightly, moving to pick up his fork and start to gather a bite of food together, though he doesn't start eating yet. "You've given a much better impression to her than I have," he concedes, which is as delicately as he can think to phrase it. "I figured... If anyone could help guide me on how to approach a negotiation with her, it would be you."

'You've given a much better impression', Faolan says, and Lancelot's eyebrows loft curiously -- then further as Faolan continues on.

"A negotiation?" he echoes, "what for?"

Any negotiation with Sylvia, Lancelot suspects, is going to be costly -- and certainly not on Sylvia's part. His first instinct is a way out of his contract -- but Lancelot isn't even sure if that is possible. Can you be let go peacefully as a Guardian? Has anyone ever retired?

He doesn't think it'd be easy.

Faolan tries to think about the best way to address this, but it's Lancelot that he's talking to at the moment, not Sylvia. He figures, after a few more moments of poking his food with his fork, that he can at least afford to be honest with the other man. Honest in a way he could never afford against the President of the Night Council.

"A negotiation for territory," he informs, glancing up at the other man. "Specifically, a section of Redbright to come to Hillingdon. We're hoping that we can do this peacefully, if we play our cards right...""

Territory! Of all the things, he certainly hadn't expected that. He blinks a little, frowns in thought as he turns over all the options in his head.

"From what I know, Hillingdon has never made a move before. Has kept out of politics. Why now? What are you hoping to achieve?"

After all, the why of it will influence how they go about such a thing with Sylvia. Even if the whole truth may not be something she finds out.

He glances at the other man, more than slightly uncertain with himself, having to explain it when asked so bluntly. It's good to talk about it here and now though, he knows. Sylvia will undoubtedly ask the same sorts of questions, and she won't be nearly as understanding as Lancelot of his fumbling response.

"Hillingdon is running out of space," he says, simply. "The more the demand for hunters, the more hunters there are. The more hunters, the more need for territory we have. Especially in such a time as this -- Hillingdon can stand up against the vampires. But we can't do that hiding away in our little corner of the city. We aren't looking for an alliance, we aren't looking to step into politics exactly. We're just looking... To be taken seriously, I suppose. The way we should be. The way everyone else is."

Running out of space? Lancelot considers what Faolan says seriously a moment, turning over the thoughts and feeding himself as he considers it.

"You're contradicting yourself," he says finally, carefully. "You can't claim to be staying out of politics and also ask to be taken seriously as a faction. That's a political statement. Hillingdon has stayed out of things before, even if... the move seems small in the grander scheme of things, it would be significant because it has not been done before. I would... not lean on that. Sylvia will want something from you. If you want her to give up territory you can't let her think she's arming a potential threat."

Faolan frowns slightly, shaking his head as he does. "I suppose what I mean to say is that we are not looking to form an alliance with Redbright, nor are we looking to form an alliance against her. As far as what we can promise..."

They've spoken about that somewhat, back at Hillingdon, he and Arthur, he and Daryl, before he had come to Lancelot. "We're a faction of hunters," he says. "There are vampires running rampant across the city. I'm sure that there is something we have that Redbright might be willing to trade for..."

"You know what she'll want," he counters, as gently as he can. "If you won't be an ally for her she'll want you to ally against something she doesn't like. At the moment, that's Islington. You can't have something for nothing, but..."

Lancelot hesitates, tilts his head slightly as he thinks.

"You could try and force the terms to be temporary. Make it about Harris specifically, if you wanted, since I doubt he'll survive in this climate. Or... make it less about who you're allying against and more about protecting her students, since you're edging into their territory."

Faolan nods slightly. He is no great fan of vampires, as he's sure that Lancelot knows all too well. But at the same time, he doesn't suppose that a permanent alliance against the vampires would work in their favor necessarily either. He doesn't want to back himself into a corner, not with his people, and not together with Sylvia Redbright.

"Protecting her students from what, though?" he inquires. "We will have to both agree on who the threat is coming from, otherwise what good is our protection for them. But perhaps we could get away with making it broader terms? To protect them from supernatural threat in general?" He raises an eyebrow at Lancelot, as if to question whether even the idea of it sounds far-fetched or not.

"That's up to you," Lancelot says more quietly. "She will want Hillingdon to commit, and if you paint too broad a stroke you make yourself deliberate enemies with people. You need to decide what you're willing to take as a cost for that space. Do you want to protect Redbright's people from any threat, even if it turns out you paint a target on yourself for doing so? Or do you want to limit the risk? I think we both know what she'd want."

She'd want as much out of the agreement as possible. Sylvia is a smart woman, and she knows Faolan has little other choice unless he wants to pick a fight.

HOUNSLOW TERRITORY CLAIM

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