Participants:
| Scene Title | When a Thief Becomes a Grifter |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | …life gets a lot more complicated. |
| Date | <date of IC effect> |
Christina's Office
Cold and calculated.
A phonecall was made. A meeting, arranged. Lola is making her way from her own apartment, on Staten, so it is a bit of a hike. But she bears it without much complaint, dressed in tight black jeans and a few layering tank tops. Her hair is up in a messy, yes-I-slept-in-it ponytail. She's wearing heeled boots. She knocks on the office door, very loudly.
She hasn't had the opportunity to meet Kain yet, so she is going into this rather blind. She doesn't like that. She'll rip Kain for it later. Or for his smell. Or for his hair. Any of those things will do, because he'll probably be doing the same to her. Impatient, even before anyone has had the chance to answer the door, Lola knocks again, and calls loudly in her bayou-accent, "Hey, open up, I ain' sellin' Avon or nothin!"
Christina's inside her office, and since the call's been placed, she's taken the advance opportunity to pull the files on the relevant participants. After all, it always helps to know who you're dealing with. Sitting inside the office, the young woman is in slate grey today; miniskirt, heels, and suit jacket, with her concession to color being a silk blouse with just the faintest hint of pink to it. There's a faint frown at Lola's arrival…whether that's from the door pounding or the accent, only the telepaths know. Leave it to the "special employees" to skip her secretary. "Come in, please. Her voice is pitched just loudly enough to get through the door; shouting in the office is gauche, but she's not about to wander all the way over there just to let someone in like a doorman.
Lola slips inside the room, letting the door close with a rather resounding BAM. "Howdy sugar," she says, walking over to Christina's desk and setting her hands on the flat of the wood, smirking mischeviously. It seems just the sort of look Lola has about her, nothing in particular about Christina that calls it out.
"I'm Lola Mayeux, we're spozed ta be meetin' today an all a that jazz, yeah? Bout Adam Monroe? Mistah Daniel tell ya?"
Maybe the man in the dark-grey trenchcoat, neatly fitting blue jeans and black boots was stalking Lola, maybe he wasn't, but Mortimer slams a foot on the door after twisting the knob (To avoid breaking it), then slams it behind him after he walks in. "My name's Mister Jack, hello Southern Belle." he happily greets Lola, nodding to Christina, emphasizing his lack of interest in Christina.
There is a faint sigh. Her poor door. Christina's expression is just vaguely put out, but only enough that one would have to look close to tell. "Ms. Mayeux, Mr. Jack, please, take a seat." She indicates the two chairs waiting on the other side of her desk with perfectly-manicured fingers. "Can I have my assistant get anything for either of you?"
Lola turns her head, grinning as she sees Mortimer. "Hey there darlin," she crones, turning and moving toward a chair and flopping down, slouched, and crossing her legs. "I'll take a beer if ya'll got it," she says, half-joking. Only half-joking because if they have beer, she'll take one. But she doesn't expect them to have one. "So Mistah Daniel says yer the plan-girl, is that so?"
Mortimer takes a seat, putting his feet up on the desk as he relaxes, looking inbetween Christina and Lola. "Are all Linderman women hot? I mean, no one's as beautiful as the Southern Belle here, but you understand what I'm saying." He's apparently letting Lola ask the initial questions.
In fact, there is beer in the building; the high-powered conference rooms and offices tend to come with minibars. However, Christina neglects to mention that fact. "Maybe coffee?" she suggests to Lola. Mortimer's feet get a look like he just performed messy biological acts on her carpet, but she doesn't say anything…only the look. It melts into a bit of a smirk at his comment. "Mr. Linderman has the luxury of being able to select his employees on whatever criteria he wants." She presses a button on her phone. "Natalie, hold all my calls. We're not to be disturbed. Executive business." The last is a code phrase meaning "we're talking about things that would get us arrested". Serious business.
She looks back to the both of them. "All right…so, you two have been assigned to the task of infiltrating Adam Monroe's organization with me. I've looked over your files, and I have a few thoughts on the matter already, but I would like to hear your thoughts on this."
Lola wrinkles her nose at the idea of coffee. "Naw darlin, boy can' get a beer anywhere these days," she says, the latter half of the conversation is to Mortimer. He'll get it. But anyway, back to business. Lola crosses her arms. "Might be a bit easier on my end than ya'll think. English, that's Adam Monroe, he's sorta taken a fancy ta me. Been tryin' ta hire me away from Mistah Daniel fer awhile now, also tryin' damn hard ta get inta mah pants. Took me out on a date the other night, least I think it was a date, an he's talkin' bout buyin' me an apartment closer inta town, away from Staten Island." She smirks a bit. "He don' like the idea a me bein' so far away, he says." In truth it's kind of sweet, Adam Monroe does have his good points, to be sure.
"I'll blow his head off, carve dirty words into his ribs, and lace his cereal with acid if he gets into Southern Belle's pants." Mortimer expresses his jealousy quite casually, slowly rocking back and forward in his seat. "I blew up Primatech for him, I guess he owes me. I'm just waiting for him to look at me the wrong way, then boom, my competition for Southern Belle is gone."
Christina finally looks…displeased. "Mr. Linderman's instructions are to infiltrate, not assassinate, Mr. Jack. If you can't separate your personal feelings from your professional work, I can't use you on this." And then she looks back to Lola, and simply asks it flat out. "Are you willing to sleep with him to get in closer?" Nary a hint of expression or distaste. Ice bitch.
Lola looks over at Mortimer with a smile and a shake of her head. "Ye'll have ta explain this whole 'Primatech' thing to me later, darlin," she drawls, turning her attention back to Christina. Her own expression doesn't faulter, but it doesn't change either. "I figure if I kin get him all torn up over me livin' in Staten off a few kisses, I'm doin' alright." Which isn't sitting well with her, because she does rather like the man. Even if he is just using her.
"I never separate business from pleasure, business is pleasure." Mortimer promptly corrects, holding a finger up. "And I'll definitely kill 'em if we go that route, just saying." He looks over at Lola, smiling, "You understand, right?"
Christina's tone drops a few more degrees. "That wasn't an answer, Ms. Mayeux. I need to know how far you're prepared to go to make this work." Eyes swivel back to Mortimer. "If you're not prepared to set aside your personal feelings on this…and your comments make it clear you're not…I can't use you. The objective here is infiltrating Adam Monroe's group. We can't do that through violence. If he has an interest in Ms. Mayeux, that's an advantage we can exploit."
Lola lets her eyes roll in her head. "Ya talk an awful lot, sugar," Lola explains to the business associate. "How 'bout ya let me worry 'bout infiltratin' Monroe? I got that covered, he an' I are friends or somethin…." she says, shrugging. "Now, why don' we branch out to the next part a the actual plan eh?" She looks over at Mortimer and shakes her head. "Let it go, darlin, we got work an whatnot."
"Hey, when work stops being fun, it stops being work. I do my job virtually free of charge, I've got nothing to lose." Mortimer states, though he does want an arm… On the other hand, Lola's worth more than an arm, though possibly not a leg… "I'll do your plan, though my terms are that if Adam sleeps with Southern Belle, I kill him, that's not so hard to understand."
A faintly exasperated sigh. "Fine. Then we rely on Ms. Mayeux's skills at acting. According to your dossier, you had access to advanced technological devices, Mr. Jack. Do you have any skill with surveillance equipment? Or, for that matter, marksmanship skills, preferably long-range ones?"
Lola's head whirls around in an instant to look right at Mortimer. "You cannot have that rifle back. I won it fair and square." Her super powerful ultra rifle. Hers. She won it, it's hers by law or something. It gives her the ability to see very, very far. As if her aim wasn't perfect before…
"I lost my ability, I barely know a thing about machines anymore. But I do remember how to stalk and kidnap and kill without being caught." Mortimer laughs and waves a dismissive hand at the idea of sniping. "Even if I could, I wouldn't snipe someone, where's the fun in that? My killing skills are just as good as any rifle. Besides, I still have a robot arm until Linderman fixes me."
Christina reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. "I swear to god…" She opens them, and looks up at Mortimer. "Allow me to spell this out in terms so simple that even you can understand it. We. Are. Not. Killing. Adam. Monroe. The mission here is to infiltrate. And based on your reticence and unwillingness to work within the plan, I don't think we can use you on this. You're free to go." She indicates the door with a hand.
"If I may, sugar…" Lola says, crossing her legs and raising a finger. "Adam's interested in me, I'll put it bluntly, sexually. I really don' know how much I'll be able ta learn 'bout his organization. In fact he knows I work fer Mistah Daniel," she says easily. "So odds are he won' be sharin' much a that with me at all." And aside from all of that is that if Adam discovers her to still be working for Daniel Linderman when he asks her not to, which will come eventually, she's got no one to guard her ass.
"Fine, but I'll still kill the bastard if he screws her." Mortimer says as he stands up, shrugs his shoulders, then turns around to head for the door. "I'll get my arm back some other way. All I've got to say is don't do anything that'll get the bastard killed, 'cause I will do it."
Christina looks back. "Your input is noted, Mr. Jack. And…just as an aside…if you even remotely try to kill Adam Monroe? You won't have to worry about replacing your arm anymore. You'll have to worry about replacing a good deal more. Good day." She doesn't reply straight up to Lola, since the momentary confrontation with Mortimer is taking up more of her attention.
Lola shakes her head. This isn't looking good for her. She turns her eyes across the table at Christina once more, remembering what Kain's said about her. She knows, then, her plea for her safety will fall on deaf ears. So, instead, she keeps that to herself. Uncrossing and recrossing her legs, the young woman tries to get comfortable in a very tense situation. "What exactly are we supposed ta be looki' for here?"
"Spite means a bit more to me than a silly thing like dying. If Adam dies or not is completely up to my Southern Belle." Mortimer smiles, takes a bow, then quickly slides out the door.
Christina looks back to Lola. "There. I'm sorry for that little altercation. Maybe now we can find a more productive means to this end. Adam is interested in you sexually. Adam also has an ego bigger than this building. Those facts /can/ be exploited, if you have the skill and willingness. So the question becomes, DO you have the skill and willingness, to lead him into thinking he has the chance with you…and doing whatever that takes…or do I need to find another way to work this that negates these advantages.
Lola looks back over her shoulder once more, seeing Mortimer go. She looks forward again and sighs. "I ain' a grifter, sugar, I'm a thief. Ya need ta be aware a that. He an I are sorta datin, an…I know I owe Mistah Daniel my alleginece fer my own reasons, but I don' think he's gonna tell me all his deep dark secrets, even if he is sleepin' wif me."
Christina looks back to Lola. "There. I'm sorry for that little altercation. Maybe now we can find a more productive means to this end. Adam is interested in you sexually. Adam also has an ego bigger than this building. Those facts /can/ be exploited, if you have the skill and willingness. So the question becomes, DO you have the skill and willingness, to lead him into thinking he has the chance with you…and doing whatever that takes…or do I need to find another way to work this that negates these advantages.
Lola looks back over her shoulder once more, seeing Mortimer go. She looks forward again and sighs. "I ain' a grifter, sugar, I'm a thief. Ya need ta be aware a that. He an I are sorta datin, an…I know I owe Mistah Daniel my alleginece fer my own reasons, but I don' think he's gonna tell me all his deep dark secrets, even if he is sleepin' wif me."
The executive looks exasperated. "Is it so hard to get a straight answer? I'm not asking if it will work, Miss Mayoux. I'm asking if you're willing to do it. I have to formulate a plan, and I can't do that till I know what I have to work with. A simple "yes" or "no" will suffice here. Either answer lets me move forward to planning this, instead of this pointless verbal dancing."
Lola grins. Hey, the woman looks tired of her job - half in thanks to Lola. She's somewhat proud. "Sugar, I ain' gonna sleep with him for Mistah Daniel. Is that the answer you want? If I sleep with him it'll be my own choice, but don' count on it for bein' useful to you. Just tell me what ya want me ta do, an make sure yer plan don' include me gettin' axed by a buncha his crazy folk."
Christina smiles wryly. "That was the answer I needed, if not the answer I wanted. All right. So we can't use the easiest attack. That means we work to think up better ones." She considers. "Has he expressed any interest in you beyond the romantic? Does he know what you can do?"
Lola considers for a moment, biting on her lower lip. "He knows what I kin do. Don' know that he's found it useful yet. He's a lot tighter on the subject a his work than his penis. But I kin tell ya who he's got there, an who he hangs around, an which one of 'em hates me. Which is mostly all of 'em. I can tell ya where one of 'em lives, too, some Doctor Lady a sorts."
Oh, now THAT is nice. There's a wicked, wicked glimmer that shows up in her eyes. "THAT would be lovely, Miss Mayoux. Tell me what you know. As much as you know. Names, abilities, appearances…anything I can use helps our cause." Now that the issue of "will Lola sleep with Adam" is past, she seems to have dismissed it as unemotionally as she handled asking it, and is on to the plotting.
Lola wrinkles her nose. "Dark haired, Dr. Odessa Knutson. Apparently they go way back. He bought her an apartment right down the hall from mine.” She rattles off a few others names. Ash, Huruma, Andrew, Sabrina - she makes a point to display her disgust for Sabrina. "An then there's Kaylee Thatcher. Telepath, she's sorta like Adam's adopted daughter. She ain' a bad sort, real innocent-like, ya know? Of all of 'em, she's the one that don' deserve much bad to happen. Just needs to get away from him an get straight." She shares Kaylee's address as well.
Christina scowls. "A telepath could put a serious kink in this plan. We're going to need to find a way around that." She says. "Otherwise, she'll pick it up and we'll both be dead." She steeples her fingers, then says "I'll have to talk to Mr. Linderman about that. Do any of the others have abilities?"
Lola thinks. Hard. "Well, Andrew, the barkeep, he's just all…mad an Irish an he owns a gun. He's..oh! Super strong, that's right. Now I remember." He told her so at the AA meeting. "Huruma, don' know much about. She just hangs back an is all quiet-like. Sabrina's just a bitch, beyond that I dunno. Ash, Michael, an the rest a the men that hang around Adam seem just ta be his thugs."
Christina nods. "All right. Hmm. I'd like you to stall any possible contact with Adam Monroe till I get an answer back from Mr. Linderman. Say you're sick, say you have a job out of town, beg a headache, do whatever it takes. But I don't want the risk of his telepath picking up on this."
Lola waves a dismissive hand. "One other thing, sug. Ya might wanna know old English has been out killin' folk past month. Don' know who or where. I know he was outta town an I know he said he was killin' folk for business." Then again, she was out of town around the same time. Doing the exact same thing. Not the point!
Christina considers that. "All right. I'll look into that. Here." She passes over a business card. "That's my direct cell number. If you need me, and definitely if you think you're compromised, call me. Any time, day or night."
Lola takes the card. Tenatively. She's silent for a few moments, turning it over between her hands. "Alright sug, now I got a question for you. How long do I gotta do this? Like I said, I ain' a griefter. I'm a thief. Give me somethin' to steal an I'll steal it. But…this….I can' straddle the line between datin' him an not sleepin' with him forever. An no matter what the man's done, it ain' right ta do, ya know? This cannot go well fer a long period a time."
Christina nods once. "I can't answer that, not yet. I don't know. Some of it is going to depend on Mr. Linderman's answer, and some of /that/ will depend on how quickly I can reach him. But I promise you I /will/ answer as soon as I know."
Lola nods, pushing to her feet. "Well call me back kinda soon ish. Cause if he decides I'm too dangerous, I doubt I'll get the chance ta call ya screamin. If I do, like it'll be with my last breaths." Her tone is rather nonchallant, as though she doens't expect Christina to really understand - or care - but then again, that's probalbly what both women expect of each other.
Christina points out in a wry tone "That would be /why/ I told you to stay clear of him till I hear from Mr. Linderman, Lola." It's the first time she's used the other woman's name. "Be calm, and be careful, and I'll let you know something as soon as I do."
