Summary:Early morning, Able and Melody discuss business. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Sun rises, blah blah.. and it's a brand new day. The events of a few days ago still bother her, yet still prompt her to have a conversation with the other half. Someone came there after she 'dismissed' him, someone terrifying and frightening. Promising at least a start of friendship and an askance of money.
The large penthouse suite covered half of the upper floor. It almost looked like an apartment; its own elaborate kitchen and fridge to prepare meals, bedroom off to the side, and nearer to that side would be a hot-tub that could be filled if needed. Bathroom was bigger than most closets, and the livingroom sat up upon a stage. Arrange that how you will, but most of the decor carried white with a few backdrops of black and grey. Highly expensive and in Melody's wheelhouse.
It's only right for Able's adjoining room to be the same, albeit smaller in side. A bedroom, tiny kitchen, tiny bathroom.. but still carrying the same richness.
And yet, the only sounds that would fill the apartment is the grinding of fresh coffee beans, the loud sizzle and pop of bacon, the cool smell of irish laquer that was meant to go inside the coffee. All a cue for everyone on staff to wake up.
Able doesn't sleep in a traditional sense, so he's often responsible for the smells coming from the kitchen. Today is no exception. With a deft touch and a distinct lack of ceremony, he whips up a few things and then emerges into the living area. He's got two coffee cups and the grip of a French press clutched in one hand. Balanced in the other is a large, egg-shaped platter that's loaded with buttered toast, jam, and a pile of bacon that borders on being preposterous. Once everything is set down on a table, he takes napkins and silverware from a sideboard and sets them out, pours some coffee, and seats himself.
There's nothing servile about his actions or his attitude; it's more as if he considers this another part of his job. He's no servant, but he does appear to be full service. The porter who normally stands by for small requests is sent off for a bottle of Irish cream and some sparkling water, then dismissed, leaving Able lost in thought while he absently stirs his coffee. The doctor is dressed more or less as usual, except the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt have been rolled back and his tie flung over one shoulder to keep it out of the way while he was cooking. Comically, he's forgotten to smooth it back into place and he's also taken a kitchen towel with him that's draped over his other shoulder.
The best thing is, he didn't reach for her coffee, that would have annoyed her. She was still dressed in a black silk robe, her hair wrapped and tied in a colorful scarf, no makeup to be seen save for the white pitches of cream that decorate her face like a quarterback. The cup was taken and lips pursed to cool, the food left alone for now. She was clearly bothered.
In the bedroom, a racket could be heard. The second of the staff was struggling with the ironing board, and swearing to himself all the while. It would have given Melody a laugh, but she settles back upon the couch, legs still crossed.
"We had a visitor the other night." She starts off with.
This comment elicits a raised eyebrow. In the time they've worked together, Able has grown to know Melody well enough that he can tell she's agitated. Anyone would be able to tell. "I take it this wasn't a gentleman caller," he says dryly. "Shall I increase security? I can bring over a few of my men to keep an eye on the building. Discreetly, of course. Stash a few weapons around here for you. Also discreetly." There's concern there, but his voice remains mild. All the same, he adds a splash of Irish cream to his coffee and gives it another stir, then takes a long drink.
So she's had gentlemen callers. But she wouldn't have thought to call it that. Her teeth clench as her skin sparks to life, various bright whites and blues, swirling along her skin. It was almost like christmas, the lights brightening, dimming at random intervals, only the sip of hot coffee calming her nerves. "No."
"I don't need an increase of security. Besides, he would just kill everyone anyways." A light shoulder lift, and soon the coffee was placed down as she holds out her hands in front of her. The holographic image of the creature who calls himself Venom slowly sparks to life. It was still imagery, the display itself shining from her eyes and projected onto her palm. "No amount of weapons can stop a beast like this." She says. "That we know of so far. But, I would like a contingency, seeing as how he.. and his human half.. offered friendship. A paid friendship. Thoughts?"
Able's coffee is set aside and he steeples his fingers into a triangle with his hand resting on the tabletop. It's one of his tells, signifying that he's deep in thought and rolling through a great deal of information and potential responses before he speaks. "If he's as dangerous as you say, I'd rather we pay him to be our friend than have him as an enemy," he admits. A small smile tugs at one corner of his mouth and he continues. "Though if you'd rather not, I've yet to encounter a problem that can't be solved by copious amounts of explosives."
This one of the nice things about having Able around. He's not afraid to present a variety of options, then carry out whichever one is most suitable for the current agenda. Again the eyebrow raises, then he shrugs. Forgotten, the kitchen towel falls to the floor, though he does have the presence of mind to put his tie back in order.
Her fingers snap close, the image itself vanishing and the lights beneath her skin and within her eyes die down. She clears her throat, then reaches for her coffee again to sip. "Initial assessement is agreeable to me." Robots. The lot of them. "The man also has insight on the burroughs due to his time as a journalist. I've yet to do the research into this person, but he effectively scarred the man I hired to work the job in Harlem. Information gathering.." She waves her hand briefly. "I need you to repurpose him or get rid of him."
"There's also the matter of our little event. The venue fell through."
Hire him or kill him. Able gives a brisk, approving nod, and with that, the matter of Venom is closed. "So I heard," he replies, speaking of the venue. "I have another option. A warehouse. It's not as glamorous, but it has a certain seedy air that should appeal to wealthy spectators. Adds an element of danger and all that. Could increase bets as well, though the take on those alone stands to be… respectable."
One more sip of coffee, then he finally picks up a piece of bacon. After his first bite, he glances back over at Melody. When he continues, he tone is faux-solemn to the point of teasing. "Unless you had something in mind, of course. I live for your whims."
It wasn't a cross look that she gave Able, but she wasn't amused. Perhaps she was, but she didn't show it. "What do you need?" Everything he said wasn't dismissed, but his little quip would probably come to haunt him at a later date. Gentlemen callers, he lives for her whims. Oh, this was going to be fun!
"I do have a vision for this, and I need a space for an office." She rises from the couch, setting the coffee down, oddly not partaking of the food. Her body was in constant regeneration, hunger often times hits, but not today. "As our particular clientele that I do hope to pull under our ranks would enjoy the air of privacy. Which means that you have a lot of work to do this coming week."
Her path takes her to the bedroom, and soon she emerges with a stack of papers. "The office needs soundproofing. That's my only requirement. The rest is up to you. There are a few trusted contractors in that list, seek them out. My thoughts always are, never to hire a person who will tell you what you want to hear." Like he would need that advice..
Hands spread, Able gives his head a magnanimous bow and says, "Naturally. I'll handle it." After a brief salute with his bacon slice, he finishes it and his coffee shortly after. "We will need security there, you know. I have some ideas on how to isolate the ring and I have a team standing by to prevent any interventions or scuffles amongst the crowd, but it could be that this Venom's arrival was fortuitous. From what I understand, we're attracting more potent participants than we anticipated. If things should get out of hand, there's only so much I can do on my own."
It's a legitimate concern. It's also as close to modesty as Able is capable of, which is surprising in and of itself. "I don't imagine this is a problem you'd like me to solve with explosives."
"You have the contacts to my wet team. That'll take some time, so I suggest you get to it sooner than now." Multitasking. "I'll have Joss help with the details, he knows them. Though be kind, he's a bit short with me lately due to choosing you and not him." It was due to the similiarities, he was a machine, just as she was. No matter how they arrived at their current predicaments. "I'll have a talk with our new friend. She if he can have a sit down with us and go over logistics. He's a natural hunter, as are you. It'll be a magnificent pairing." She looks hopeful, and there was a hint of greed there.
"As for the participants, a little side project. There is a girl that I'm interested in. Win or lose. I believe she could be our kind." She bends, shuffling through the files of prospects to come to: Ranna Pryde. "Seeing as you hardly ever sleep, the latest side project. I want us to know all we can about her."
"No rest for the wicked." File in hand, Able flips through and scans it while making a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, then it's closed and set aside for future perusal. "Intriguing. I'll add her to my things to do list. Would you like me to contact her before the event, or shall I quietly investigate while we wait and see what she can do?"
Either prospect seems equally viable to him. He pauses to slather jam on a triangle of toast. "You certainly know how to make a fellow earn his keep."