I like The Way You Move [Sirene please]

[titan]

The restaurant was expensive. No huge surprise there. Seth rarely "ate" out these days, and like hell he would be seen anywhere even slightly unworthy of his presence. Today's choice was a small very dimly lit place, perfect for an intimate dinner, or a privet meeting. The tables were black, square and glossy, made of some dark wood. Surprisingly, the small padded chairs were quite comfortable and upholstered in a deep purple fabric. Light enough not to be black, dark enough that they weren't distracting or cheap. It was difficult to dye a piece of fabric that color of rich deep purple. Expensive.

The walls were painted various neutral colors with fabric draping some of the walls, and mirrors gracing others, making the room not appear clostrophobic. The high vaulted ceiling was brought down to a managable level by slate grey panels handing from the rafters. The panels were only softly glossy and served to better reflect a soft glow from the candles and soft lighting in the place.

The food that they served was delectable, even by a vampire's standards. Also, he happened to know the owner - himself, in fact - so he was allowed an exclusive glass of his favorite drink which was unrecognizable in the soft lights. All in all, it was a lovely and comfortable place. Perfect for the meeting he was currently having.

The young man seated across from him had light brown hair and huge, innocent looking chocolate eyes. If you were to put him in regular street clothing, he would blend in with everyone else, and in fact, that was what he was used for. At this moment, however, he was dressed in an extremely expensive suit, wearing an attractive pair of glasses, and was currently fixing his perfectly styled hair in the back of a spoon. Vanity. Sigh. Seth supposed one never got over such things. He, himself, couldn't claim to being completely unvain. In fact, when one really got down to it, everything he wore was meticulously selected to make him look his best at all times. It was the way of things when you owned most of the city in secret.

"For God sake, Fritz, if you must fix you hair, do it in the restroom." Seth complained, sighing heavily, and looking around the restaurant with impatience. Even someone such as he didn't have time to waste on waiting for some hairophile lamia.

"Right. Sorry." Fritz apologized, immediately desisting his preening and putting the spoon back in its proper position on the table.

A long attention span was obviously not what made him useful to Seth, and in fact, Seth began to wonder for a moment why exactly he did keep the little peacock around. So much for having a nice enjoyable conversation with one's interrogation specialist.

"Alright, alright, I can't control it anymore. I'll be back momentarily." Fritz said, rising from his chair breezily and leaving Seth alone with his enormous exasperation. Oh, this was going to not only be a quick visit, but fun as well! Joy.

[shinigami]

Cue! Cue? Cue. So: Enter, stage left - Sirène M. J. Siddal.

There is a table. At the table is a shapeshifter; dark-haired, bronze-skinned, darker-eyed: he's as lean as a rattlesnake, cheekbones so sharp they'd cut; looks good, dressed nice. Doesn't usually. And, as with all shapeshifter's, there's something unsettled about his grace; something shaken; something ingrained. Seth is, alas, usually noticed; this shapeshifter doesn't do anything to acknowledge the notice, other than notice it. At least, at least, until his companion returns:

And as Seth's primping, preening interrogation expert disappears into the men's room, where he will no doubt be looked upon with an air of puzzlement -- if men were the sorts to notice other men in the rest room short of the other men being passed out and bleeding, Sirène leaves the lady's room, and does return.

This shapeshifter: vanilla and cigarette smoke; almonds and green pine. This shapeshifter? Sirène gives the expensive -- and, to her rather critical eye, as near to faultless as one might expect on a positive day -- restaurant a look of cool appraisal. What did she miss? Will more assassins pour out of the woodwork now? No? Are you certain? Well, then. Then: Sirène returns to her table. Does not pass Seth's, directly, but as she sits, her companion says, low-voiced,

"Look who just showed up."

She raises an eyebrow; her mouth curves, smirk. "If that was a dig on how long I spent in the rest room," she begins.

"No, no," her companion says. "Over there. S'the big man himself."

[titan]

Arrogance like that could only belong to a woman such as just crossed the room. Stunning. Hair of spun garnets, eyes...well...she had them. More importantly, she had a nice figure. Excellent. Yes, he'd had enough time to notice the scenery, and that meant that Fritz was taking altogether too long in the restroom. Little bastard.

Ah, but at least he had interesting conversation to listen to. The big man, eh? Yes, he supposed he was rather..incredible. He doubted, however, that this unlucky shifter was being sincere. No matter. He could take care of that later. FRITZ! God, you leave the man alone for five seconds with a mirror..

Just as Seth was about to stoop to calling the staff to retrieve his associate, the irritating little turkey face returned of his own volition (((kk, just needed to use the term "turkey face" there, even though seth never would..))).

"Need I tell you that took entirely too long?" Seth began, letting out a sigh that clearly emphasized his extreme displeasure at having to wait.

"Uh..sorry...I...uh...well, you know how it is, right? I mean, a man of your attractiveness...that is, uh..." The poor boy was silenced by the raise of a hand.

"Yes, yes. Now, who is that lovely creature over there?" he asked, knowing that Fritz would know who he was talking about.

"Uh..some...french...woman....?"

"You are utterly useless." Seth said, his eyes narrowed. If this wasn't Fritz, he would have sliced him into small pieces with a piece of his wine glass. As it was, he stabbed his spoon though the other mans hand, and straight into the table.

"Now, you will get me the information I want to know, or I will bury the butter knife somewhere that will hurt more." he said in a disturbingly pleasant voice.

Understanding how lucky he was, Fritz nodded, and took out his phone. He used his one free hand to type an urgent message to Wednesday, requesting the information.

Without being told, one of the waitstaff appeared with a small white napkin for Seth's hand which had a small amount of blood on it. To the lamia across from him, they offered nothing. You did not offer sympathy to anyone Seth had personally injured. It just wasn't done.

Seth took a sip of his drink while he waited.

[shinigami]

The rest of the conversation between Sirène and the shapeshifter went as follows. "Oh? What big man?" "There's practically only one bloody big man in Las Vegas, Sirène. Don't look!" "You are not impressing me." "May I impress on you how very excellent this wine is?" "Were you planning on whining?" "Do I strike you as a whiner?" "So who's the man?" "Seth. Don't say his full name." "Ah."

The information doesn't come easily, or completely; even Seth and his lackeys occasionally need to put effort -- to put work -- into the work of running an empire. Still, before Sirène stands up and smooths her skirt down, before Sirène walks over to Seth's table, his well-oiled information network has managed to say this much:

Her name is Sirène Margeurite Jacqueline Siddal; she is reputed to be a Drache, but there is no confirmation; she is a shapeshifter of no mean ability, powerful politically as well as physically (or rather: mentally; she's a hard case). She is whipping the shapeshifters into a shape. What shape? A coherent shape, cohesive. Also, she is friends with one of his employees: Madeline Frost. They go back a ways.

Whether or not all of this information can be communicated in the ten minutes before Sirène walks over to Seth's table, though? Who knows. But see? Sirène walks over to Seth's table and stops. The way she looks at him is cool -- but Sirène is all over cool; except for the hint of a smile, as faint as a blush on her mouth; a warmth in her cheeks; in her eye: "So," she says, "I'm told I should know you; you don't mind terribly if I ask why?"

[Seth Marquis]

Seth can feel her coming, but makes no move to acknowledge her before she speaks. Why should she know his name? What a ridiculous question. Seth takes a fraction of a second to raise an eyebrow at Fritz, who is still entertaining a spoon in his hand. Fritz gives the smallest of shrugs, and goes back to his phone.

"No, I don't mind," Seth starts cheerfully, "But one would think that an important political shifter such as yourself would take the time to learn who owned the town she was in. Perhaps you've just been too busy? I can see how one such as yourself might just be...too busy, we'll call it..to pay attention to such small details." Oh, yes. He can see it now. The small details bit was rather ironic, if he did say so himself. She was most obviously well put together, and did not enjoy being unable to micro-manage.

"I hope you don't mind, but I have taken the time to find out exactly why I should know you. I said I didn't mind you asking, but I never said I would provide you with an answer. I took the time to find out who you are. I'm sure one such as yourself won't have any trouble finding out who I am. It's all about connections, really." And with that, Seth nodded to Fritz who removed the utensil from his hand, and the staff began to bring out their "food". Seth paid no more attention to the beautiful redhead, except to note how very well endowed she was.

What a pleasant day.

[shinigami]

Seth speaks; Sirène listens.

And after a surprised -- and it seems genuine; it seems honest (enough) -- widening of her eyes and arch of one eyebrow, she listens with every appearance of poised interest. Indeed, somewhere around but I have taken the time Sirène sinks to a crouch in order to fix the back strap of her heel; her balance is flawless, but in deference to human sensibilities, she places her right hand on the top of Seth's table, and while she fixes her shoe, regards him sidelong and 'neath her lashes.

A certain breed of creature would've been chastised by such a reply; be put off; feel inadequate; uncertain; unsure. Sirène is not of that breed.

"Awwwwwww," she says. "That answer's no good to me at all." A pout? Nearly; it's too self-aware and mocking by half. Too bad Seth isn't paying attention; it's Olympic class. Were the Olympics open to Night World denizens, with their unearthly, supernatural etcetera.

A beat. And: temper, temper; they say that redheads are quite the tempestuous ones. This one seems to have her temper pretty much in check right now; still, she doesn't like imprecision; doesn't like to be misconstrued. And he said she missed details. No.

"I didn't say," she says, and she has a cream and honey voice; it would taste good, "that I didn't know who you were, Seth. May I call you Seth? Well," a pause; a brief, vibrant smile of private amusement. "Clearly, I may; I just did. But would you rather I didn't?" Her gaze flicks to Fritz, when he takes the spoon out of his hand; she rises more swiftly than she sank down. There's less va va voom. "To you, Mr. Marquis, I say: bullshit."

"Enjoy conversing with your friend; I'm sure a man of your stature has nothing but stimulating conversations." Sirène has mastered the art of the backhanded compliment. The way she says what she says, the smile she says it with; it's almost impossible to detect that what she really means is: enjoy talking with a pretty boy lackey who you feel the need to stab with a spoon just to make him interesting; I'ma go back to my funner dinner now.

Except Sirène and Shapeshifter are done; Shapeshifter's in the process of paying, so when Sirène leaves, she's leaving the restaurant; and indeed! She curls a short strand of redred hair behind her ear, turns as if she hadn't a care. Shapeshifter's shaking his head, looking down. He has her coat over his arm and looks (to her irritation) mildly anxious about the entire thing.