Sundry Acts Of God


adam_icon.gif lockheart_icon.gif

Scene Title Sundry Acts of God
Synopsis Adam Monroe, under the alias of Adam Sanders, comes ot visit Sylvia Lockheart at her home away from home with a deal…
Date February 8, 2010

Alibi Lounge

Greenwich Village

Quiet piano tones carry across a dimly lit lounge, the soothing melodies of Forties style big band tunes laid over the sedate atmosphere of a cocktail lounge. While the Alibi Lounge isn't as famous or as chic as the Orchid Lounge, this subterranean cocktail bar has something unique in the way of anachronistic charm set amidst dim lighting and an exclusive invitation only clientelle list, allowing it to be one of the few still available smoking lounges in all of New York City.

Situated at a secluded booth seat at the back of the lounge with fair view of the modest stage, a single curling wisp of cigarette smoke rises from the cigar clenched between nicotine stained fingers of a severe looking blonde woman. Buttoned down and dressed more for business than pleasure, New York's leading Mayoral candidate Sylvia Lockheart is a woman defined by many things, and the expensive things in life — as well as the deadly ones — are quite often on that list. Watching her security team unhook the velvet rope around the VIP section, she squints a blue-eyed stare at the blonde gentleman making his way towards her round table.

"Mister Sanders…" she exhales a smoky breath with the name, penciled in eyebrows lifting up as she sweeps her cigar aside and offers her opposite hand out in a friendly gesture. "It's so very nice to finally get to meet one of my most prolific campaign contributors…"

Adam steps into the lounge and looks around. He's able to appreciate the atmosphere, but unable to consider anachronisms in the decor. They try and replicate a time, but Adam has memories of the time and these facsimiles always have their problems. He pauses before he's brought towards Lockheart's table, studying her on his way there. "Hello, Ms. Lockheart." he says in an accent that vaguely sounds Californian, "It's a pleasure to meet you." he squeezes her hand briefly and sits down across from her, "I'm glad the campaign seems to be going well."

"Well enough," She admits with a turn of her eyes down to her muted reflection in the polished table top, then back up to Adam as he finds his place across from her. The cigar comes back to her lips, and in that long drag she takes off of it, there's a consideration that dawns across her features, brows furrowed and blue eyes narrow, as if trying to size up a man she doesn't truly — and oculdn't possibly — understand the length and breadth of.

"But close doesn't count in this game," Lockheart admits, her eyes wandering to the surface of the table again, her cigar-brandishing hand drifting back and forth to the notes of the music. "Let's cut to the chase, Mister Sanders…" those blue eyes drift back up to match stares with Adam. "Campaign contributors don't ask for private meetings unless they want something. No one comes by where I have my private time, arranges a meeting, and then sits down in front of me like that unless there's something I can do for them for what they've already done for me.

Exhaling two nostrils of smoke, Lockheart rests her cigar down on the ridged edge of an ashtray, lacing her fingers together afterwards as she leans forward, chin coming to settle down on the backs of her hands. "So, tell me, mister Sanders… what is it you think your money bought you?"

Adam leans back in his seat and crosses his legs casually. He appears amused, at least for the moment. "Oh, the amount of money I've donated I think entitles me to quite a bit. Particularly when you consider politics is a long con, you'll need my donations again." he adjusts the cuffs on his jacket, "But that's not what I'm here for." he says, "I'm not calling in any favors. In fact, you might say I'm here to do you some favors." he watches the woman quietly, "As you said, close doesn't count in this game. Too much is so…out of our control. Last minute scandals, tragedies, the polls and the voters are slippery things. One moment what you have is enough and the next it isn't." he pauses, "I'm here to…take the guess work out of politics."

Sylvia is silent at the sentiment of removing the guesswork, and the way her tongue rolls around the inside of her cheek seems to indicate that either the notion left a bad taste in her mouth, or she's making sure she isn't gaping in reaction. Her fingers unlace, hands come apart and its clear she's trying to parse the information laid across the table to her. Blue eyes glance at Lockheart's security detail, and she very cautiously levels a look back to Adam. "Why don't you tell me what you have in mind, and consider that I haven't agreed to anything…"

At least she's playing her cards safe, and her wariness can easily be attributed to the presence of a wire, or any other kind of political counter-intelligence tactic that she wouldn't put past Chesterfield for a moment. But Sylvia doesn't look offended, which is exactly what Adam planned on. She looks cautiously intrigued and that leaves the door open for so many opportunities.

Adam is quiet for a moment, considering the woman across the table. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, that I could hand this election to you. No worrying that Donovan will jump ahead. No worrying that Chesterfield might pull some cat out of the bag. The election is yours, free and clear." he pauses cautiously, "I don't know that it's particularly safe for you to know the details. But, rest assured, things are always in motion and some people are able to make that work for them. I'm offering to let the wheels work for you."

Tongue moving across her teeth, Lockheart leans back against the plush leather padding of the bench seat, hands folding in her lap and a side-long look leveled on Adam. "I'd say you still want something," she admits plainly with a slow bat of her eyes open and closed, "and that you're pretty desperate to get it." One brow arches slightly, and Sylvia reaches out to take her so far untouches snifter of brandy. Her fingers touch around the mouth of the glass, but then her hand comes away from it, and blue eyes meet Adam's again.

"I'd like to know what you expect to get out of that suggested arrangement. Elections aren't just…" her hand near the glass wavers a little in matched indecisiveness to her voice, "fall into the right person's lap without a significant level of influence. If you have enough of that to do what you're proposing— and I don't want to know how you think you will— what do you expect to gain from it?"

Adam chuckles at that, "What do I want?" he questions, "I want a mayor in my pocket. I wouldn't do this otherwise. It's one thing to be one of your premiere contributors, it's a whole other thing to be the kingmaker." he pauses, "I'll want you to look the other way on some things, look into others." he pauses, "You know, I suppose there is something specific I want. I'm tired of Linderman's grip on New York. I want you to turn a cold shoulder to him. If I can be a kingmaker, I can be a pauper maker too."

That elicits a heavy breath from Sylvia, one brow quirked up slowly. "Linderman?" There's a glance of blue eyes down to the table top, fingers folding together and her head nodding slowly, little bits and pieces falling together behind her eyes. Those very distant eyes of hers dart back to Adam after a moment, as if she suddenly put some pieces together in whatever tapestry she wove inside of her head. "Suppose I think this is a good idea, that Daniel could be nudged out of the picture— permanently— how soon do you think you could get an operation moving in that direction? How soon do you think you'd… act on it?"

Leaning forward, Lockheart nudges her glass aside and watches Adam with one brow raised. "A lot of people in this city want Daniel Linderman out of the picture, mister Sanders. You'd be making a good deal of them happy, but be making quite a few enemies for yourself in the process. Now, even with a… friend, in the mayor's seat, do you think you're prepared to bear the brunt of that storm? My skirt's only so big enough for so many people to hide behind."

Adam tsks a moment, "Ms. Lockheart, I like to think in the long term." Lockheart is unlikely to properly appreciate just how long, "By the time I plan to move on Mr. Linderman, it'll be a bit too late for him to pull any strings and he'll have a distinct unawareness." he pauses, "I suppose if you're saying that there's already a plan in motion, something where the reigns can be grabbed, I won't say I'm unwilling to take the opportunity, but at the moment, I have my own plan." he purses his lips, "Besides which, first we'd have to deliver you an election."

"Right now all my political energies are being directed towards the sound trouncing of my competition, so at least we're on the same page there…" Lockheart notes with a rise of one brow, once more assessing Adam's posture. "Well…" hands spread apart and fingers splayed, Sylvia considers the mixture of threat and enticement offered by Adam, and reaches down to pick up her smouldering cigar again. "You paint an interesting picture of the future, mister Sanders. You paint a future with me in charge, and admittedly, I like that color on me." One corner of the blonde's lips crook up into a smirk as she brings the cigar to her lips, drawing in an ashen breath as orange embers glow hotly.

"How can I be certain you follow through with your end of the bargain, mister Sanders? How can I be sure that— say— one act of God isn't distinguishable from another? What proof will I have to know you're upholding your end of the bargain— or are you thinking I'll go on faith alone?"

Adam chuckles a bit, "Oh, some amazing thing will happen during the campaign and it'll just be a matter of coincidence?" he leans forward, "You'll know. In fact, I'll even give you a preview. You should get ready to press Jennifer Chesterfield on her thoughts on terrorism. And as for Mr. Donovan…you should learn to play the sympathy card very well." he smiles, "I'd practice a little, you'll have to bring dignified poise in a time of crisis to an artform." he leans back in his seat, "And it'll be Daniel Linderman's fault. Remember that."

Running her tongue over her lips, Lockheart gives a slow nod of her head and brings that cigar to her lips, drawing in a slow breath once more as the ember glows hotly a final time. Like some dragon that would be at home in the story of Takezo Kensei, Lockheart exhales the acrid fumes in twin jets out of her nostrils, and moves the cigar aside from her mouth so as to clearly enunciate her rather unusual agreement. "THank you for you time and consideration, mister Sanders…" one of her pencil thin brows is still raised, as if not quite sure what to make of the British gentleman seated before her.

"I think you can show yourself out." Which is one way to say, I'll believe it when I see it.

Adam smiles, "A pleasure, Ms. Lockheart." he says, standing. "Always good to meet like minded individuals."

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