Refrain From Explaining


ling_icon.gif peter_icon.gif

Scene Title Refrain From Explaining
Synopsis In the search for Else Kjelstrom, Peter follows a trail of breadcrumbs back to the source of Refrain.
Date August 19, 2009



Neither quite the biblical kind, nor the physical kind, but rather some remarkable middle-ground. This successful nightclub operated under the umbrella of the Linderman Group has stood for years as a haven for New York City's upper-crust's underbelly. Behind all of the neon, the throbbing bass, and the undulating, sweaty dancers on its multi-level dance floor, Rapture has a rotting, rusted core.

At the heart of this social decay are the drug dealers operating within the club, some sanctioned by the Linderman Group, others not. Rapture is where high-society and mobster tactics meet and mingle in a poisonous connection. It's amid that neon-lit pit of noise and sweat that Peter Petrelli has found himself reluctantly situated.

Despite the humid temperature the club maintains at peak hours, the dark-haired man finds himself slipping between the rythm of dancers in an ink-black suit; gloved hands gently urging people away from him as he makes his way from the distant back booths of the club and towards the bar. Finding one name among many, here in Rapture is typically a difficult affair; unless that name is Ling Chao.

Murmured off of the lips of a dealer across town, the trail of Else Kjelstrom comes winding towards this mysterious woman, and the darkly dressed man with a prominent scar cutting across his face winds his way between a sea of sweat-slicker dancers to find the source of Refrain, and hopefully a key to finding the wayward musician.

There's no quiet corner on the floor of Rapture, but this evening, Ling Chao has found herself in the closest thing resembling such a thing. Nights spent in Rapture were an amusing series of contradictions and risks, ones she certainly wouldn't be facing if she didn't have certain connections. It had proven to be a surprisingly worthwhile venture so far, she'd found many a buyer. She was sure Liu was pleased, in fact.

This evening, though, she was here with a bit more leisurely purpose. Despite herself, she'd come to almost like frequenting the club since her… new assignment. So now, she sat with a bottle of wine on the table, swirling a glass in hand as she listened to the thumping beat of the music, wondering just when, exactly, her relative peace would be broken by someone looking to buy.

Polite courtesy usually affords those coming to Ling for Refrain to introduce themselves, or somehow get her attention before attempting to put forward a business transaction. Tonight, though, tradition is put to the way side for something a bit more forward. The chair across from where Ling sits is pulled out, a black gloved hand dragging it away before the darkly dressed frame of Peter Petrelli moves to settle down in the seat, pushing it in and folding his gloved hands in front of himself with a creak of leather.

Unusually blue eyes stare across the table at Ling, subtly indicative of the color of Refrain itself, sans its luminous quality. "I hear you're Ling Chao," he has to speak up a bit, given the dampening quality of the loud, bass-filled dance music throbbing through the club. "I'd like to talk to you about something." No introductions, no name, no money. Just a thin Italian with a deep scar across his face coming to sit at her table.

At least it's a change of pace.

Ling stirs as the man pulls out the chair, drawn form thoughts on other matters. As she looks up from her glass, she is a bit taken aback, both by the brazen use of her full name, and by the man's hardened appearance. With a scar like that, she was sure nothing good could come from this man. But still, she was a businessman, and that was how she would present herself — far be it from her to turn someone away when she could be making money.

Ling leans forward, fingers steepled as she assesses the man a bit more before speaking. "It appears I'm getting a reputation," she remarks as her eyes raise to meet his. "I'm not sure how I feel about that," she continues, a slight frown appearing. She had a feeling she knew what he was here for, but it was better to lead someone rather than being straight and forward; usually it led to the subject being convinced they really did need what they came for. "Yes, I am Ling. What is it I an help you with?

"Not what you think," Peter reassures her, unfolding his hands to reach up into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "I'm looking for someone," he adds with a rise of his brows, withdrawing a newspaper article between leather-clad fingers. The newsprint paper is laid out on the table and pushed forward across the glass surface, and when his fingers pull away, a familiar face to Ling is revealed.

Stringy blonde hair, dark eyes and a strong jaw; Else Kjelstrom. She's a relatively famous musician in the city, but not someone Ling knows personally. "I'm looking for her," Peter notes with a furrow of his brows, an expression that causes the scarring between them to crease, "I spoke to her dealer, and he says you're his supplier. He wasn't sure if she's directly worked with you before or not," his hands fold in front of him again, "but I'd appreciate it if you had something you might be able to share. If you don't know where I can find her…" He reaches into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a money clip holding down a stack of bills which is laid out on the table next to the picture. "I have something else in mind."

An eyebrow raises as Ling eyes the picture. She had heard of Else Kjelstrom, but that was the extent of what she knew. It amused her to find out that Refrain had found it's way to the musician, though it wasn't particularly surprising. Still, it wasn't someone she had met personally, she'd remember her. She would have to find out who the supplier this man had spoken with was, though. She was sure the Triads would be interested to know who was willing to give up her name.

Her stare moves next to the money, and a smile slips across her face. "I'm afraid that I'm unable to help you. I can't say I've seen her personally," she remarks in a businesslike manner, her eyes drifting back up to Peter's. "And I'm afraid it's not my concern at this juncture." It was the truth. She didn't know Else or her music, and if she was in a position that she needed to be found, well frankly, Ling had other things to worry about. "However, whatever else you have in mind… perhaps I can help you wit that."

Not her concern. Peter's eyes narrow a touch, leaning back as he withdraws the photograph and folds it in his palm, carefully tucking it away back in his jacket. "Then I need a vial of Refrain," he motions to the money clip on the table, then lays his hand over it. "Just the one," he moves his hand away from the money clip slightly, "and maybe whatever information you have on where this drug might've come from? Her dealer says your the biggest supplier in the city, and I haven't heard of this outside of…" Peter rolls one shoulder in a shrug, "about a month. Any information you might have," the money clip is pushed forward with a tap of Peter's thumb, and it's only then Ling notices the bills folded down are all 100-dollar bills in a thick stack.

The ease that Peter parts with the money, naturally, is that it isn't his own. But then, dead drug dealers don't need their fat stacks of cash any more than he needs this. "Whatever you know, whatever you have, I'll take it. That and one syringe of Refrain…" Settling back on his chair, Peter folds his hands in front of himself, head tilting to the side as his blue eyes drift up and down Ling, considering the posture and attitude of the woman with a subtle furrowing of his brows again.

She narrows her eyebrows as Peter poses his questions, gaze centered firmly on the bills with as much of a stoic expression as she could manage. "The syringe is easy," she comments, even as her hands separate and one glides down to her side and out of Peter's vision. "Information, however, is not." She wasn't sure just how for this she should be, but the man was paying more than enough or what she knew. This, however, was the last place she wanted to be spilling her secrets on the matter - what few she had.

"No charge for the Refrain, mind you," she says as she places a wrapped cloth on the table, clinking audible as it's gingerly placed on the table. "Your payment, however, is very much in order. But, mind you - here is probably not the place." She grimaced a bit as she spoke. This certainly wasn't the wisest thing she could be doing, but after a moment of reminding herself who she really works or, it doesn't seem so bad.

"Agreed," Peter's gloved hand lays on top of the syringe, and as he moves it inside of his jacket his hand doesn't return empty. Instead, there's a business card tucked between his fingers. It's laid out on the table, pushed forward by two fingers in much the same manner that the photograph was earlier. "This address, the time is irrelevent."

When his hand moves away, it's the business card for a different club, one located in Greenwich village across town — the Rock Cellar. "Go there, ask for a woman named Cat. She's there every night, and you tell her everything you know about Refrain. She's— a contact of mine." Peter's gloved hands fold again, head tilting to the side slightly. "If— " there's a grimace, and Peter corrects himself, "when she asks questions, that's your call on what you answer. But don't tell her what I purchased here today…."

A frown crosses Ling's lips once ore as she reaches out and tentatively takes the business card. The name of the establishment stuck a faint cord a recognition, but she was sure she'd never been to such a place. The mention of another contact doesn't sit well with her - she grows tired of working through contacts, and if working with the Triads has given her an appreciation for anything, it was Liu's relative… directness in recruiting her for her new job.

Slipping the card down her sleeve, Ling returns her attention to the man in front of her. "Think of me what you will, but I assure you that I am a… discreet businesswoman

A frown crosses Ling's lips once ore as she reaches out and tentatively takes the business card. The name of the establishment stuck a faint cord a recognition, but she was sure she'd never been to such a place. The mention of another contact doesn't sit well with her - she grows tired of working through contacts, and if working with the Triads has given her an appreciation for anything, it was Liu's relative… directness in recruiting her for her new job.

Slipping the card down her sleeve, Ling returns her attention to the man in front of her. "I assure you that I am a… discreet businesswoman. Your associate won't know a thing," she replies reassuringly, leaning back in her chair. "Will that be all?"

Rising up from his seat, Peter rests his hands on the tabletop and levels his eyes at Ling. "One more thing," he says in a hushed tone of voice, leaning over the table to make sure that the low tones reach the woman over the loud music, "don't tell her about the woman I asked after, either. She's persistent," Peter notes with a tip of his head into a nod before straightening up and tucking his hands into his pockets.

"But a businesswoman like you should get along fine." There's a touch of a lopsided smirk on Peter's face as he edges away from the table, leveling those unusually blue eyes on Ling again. "Thanks for you time, and…" he can't help but smirk.

"…hopefully I won't see you again."

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