Hannibal Lecture
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Date: 03/13/2018 Time: 21:00 PST |
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Cast: | |
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There she is, Mrs Pink America! She is sitting on the sofa, an iPhone in her grasp as she texts away on it with the speed of the youth that grew up doing exactly that. She is so busy that she seems barely aware of the world around her for the time being. Glasses slightly askew, she takes but a moment to correct them before she's right back at it. Seated next to her on the sofa is an empty frappe cup from Starbucks. Two of them, actually. The last time Liesl was here, she was dressed down, to the startlement of those who'd had an entirely different impression of her, for the purpose of helping Stanislas with the drywall work down one of the halls. This evening, however, she's arriving much as she did the for the Moot and even more so the introductory arrival. She's not officially working for the Ernst Corporation until the start of April, but she's had a few meetings, and caught up with some contacts, so she is dressed city-chic-casual, nearly all in black, which generally serves to make the glacier-blue of her eyes and the natural shine of her blonde hair just that much more apparent. After a friendly exchange with Stanis, signing in, leaving a Turkish-thick espresso like coffee with him along with a healthy piece of streudel she got Gaia-knows-where, she heads down the hall toward the not-so-secret back room where the Moot was (is going to be?) held. A designer bag designed with backpack straps is held up against her shoulder. As she steps into the space, she doesn't intentionally interrupt the magenta-hued teen's social media connectivity. She walks over to a sofa and settles down with a graceful sort of ease and pulls her own phone from the bag to flip through -- much more slowly -- several screens that are likely emails and messages of some sort or another, reading in companionable enough silence. Bit and his cousin, Derek, arrived at the moot together - so if this is quite close in time to the moot, Derek's probably...somewhere. If it's a few hours before, then he's just stopping by, early. There's a brown paper grocery bag cradled in his right arm and an 8x10 manila envelope in his left hand. Spotting the two of them, he pauses, blinking. "Hello, Shadi, Liesl," he greets them, his tone polite as always. The arrival of Liesl is enough to give Shadi pause. She looks at her, head tilting slightly to the side. This is another person she does not know! Bit's arrival puts her somewhat at east, however. She glances over towards one of the other sofas, the one covered in manga and anime DVDs that Kaminari has taken over for the most part, and then looks back at Liesl and Bit. "Hi," she offers, cheerfully enough. Glancing up from her cell, Liesl powers it off and slips it into an outer pocket of her leather pack. "Bit the Third," she greets with a capricious sparkle to those blue eyes and the barest uptipping at the corners of her lips. "It's lovely to see you again." She pushes to stand, sliding fingers through her hair to tuck it behind her ear, "Are you --" Shadi's greeting is heard and she pivots partway to regard the fuschia-femme. "Well, hello there. You looked rather --" The wave of one hand idly with a splaying of fingers from Liesl. "-- wrapped up in something. I didn't dare interrupt. I'm Liesl Kruger. I arrived earlier this week with Marc Johannson. He's a bit more 'wild' than I am." Here she mimes clawing at the air, mostly certain frank introductions are acceptable here, but not willing to risk it while she's still so new to the city. Giving Liesl a long look, Bit might be chagrined if he realized exactly how displeased he looks at being called Bit the Third. "You as well," he replies without correcting her, his penchant for propriety present despite that obvious expression. Brow arching at Shadi, he watches, probably curious to see how she's going to respond to Liesl's air clawing. When Liesl makes her little finger claws, Shadi promptly covers her mouth with her free hand, a giggle and snort escaping her immediately. That's a familiar gesture, after all, to her. "See," she says to Bit, "I'm not the only one who does that. I don't know Marc but I get your meaning," she adds to her. "You know her?" she asks of Bit, gesturing with her head towards Liesl. It's not until after Shadi replies -- though referencing 'doing that' in common does pique the faintest look of interest from Liesl -- that the Getkin looks back to Bit to see the tail end of that displeasured expression Bit doesn't realize he's allowed to be visible. Rather than an abrupt apology, Liesl moves half a step closer, to both Bit and Shadi, and continues to watch the former. Finally, her attention sifts back to the rose raver. "And who might you be?" "We were briefly introduced in a flurry of arts, crafts, and coffee," Bit replies to Shadi's inquiry without conceding 'knowing' per se. He slips the manila envelope into the paper bag he's carrying, then moves away from them, walking around to the counter. Setting the bag upon said counter, he steps back, eyeing the cabinets and refrigerator, as if he's debating the best place to deposit whatever else is in the bag. "That makes sense," agrees Shadi, nodding towards Bit with a cheerful smile. Now she's turned towards Liesl, though, again. She offers her a hand. "Shadi Najafi," she says, brightly, her tone of full of enthuiasm for the moment. Her phone is set aside. The case, now visible more clearly, is pink and beglittered because of course it is. Liesl's piercing blue gaze follows for a few moments after Bit before she meets Shadi midway and clasps the teen's hand in her own. "Of the Red Riding Hood variety," she clarifies, since Bit hasn't seen fit to confirm her hypothesis that specificity here puts no one in jeopardy. "That wolf seemed inclined to eat people," Bit remarks from his spot at the counter, perhaps a veiled reference to what's forbidden in the litany. Reaching into the bag, he withdraws, first, a loaf of bread - the kind that comes from a bakery, made before dawn, now wrapped in plastic to preserve its freshness. Stepping back and holding it in his hands, he pauses in searching for a new home. "Although, I suppose it depends on which version of the story you read. Perrault's allegory was fairly obvious. The Grimms, perhaps, too subtle?" "Were you chopped out of one with an axe? That's cool," says Shadi, thoughtfully, to Liesl. A nod towards Bit, though, solemnly. "I'll pretend I know for sure which wolf you mean," she adds. She brings her legs up underneath her on the sofa, then, ping Uggs all shiny and clean. "So what brings you to Detroit?" she asks the blonde woman. "Wolf! Thank you, Bit. That was the word. I just couldn't remember the animal's name for some odd reason. Strange, that." Dry words, a sidelong look to the Kinsman in the kitchen, then back to Shadi once more. A faux-hushed, "Marc doesn't eat people. I think the fingernails and nose hairs and anti-perspirant bother him." Back to Bit, "A story to warn girls of wild men waiting in the forest to take their virginity, most like. So much for Oma," she murmurs with a what-can-you-do little shrug, using the German word for grandmother for anyone in the know. "Me? I think the part where the wolf /dresses/ as the grandmother was /far/ more telling as to the state of such creatures. What do /you/ wear to bed, Bit?" To Shadi, "Some might say I'm the one who does the artisan work, the chopping, as it were. I /make/ them," she leans closer, her tone confiding, blue eyes sparkling. "What brings Marc and I to Detroit? We were sent here." Simple as that. "Are you a native, Shadi Najafi?" "The pajamas that my mother bought me the Christmas before last," Bit replies to Liesl as he stares at the cabinets. "You know, there is one version of the story where the wolf tricks the girl into eating her grandmother," he adds. "But then she escapes...all by herself. Cannibalism aside, it is," he sighs, then opens a cabinet, checking its suitability to hold the bread, "my favorite." "Sounds like the end of 'Hannibal'. Sort of," says Shadi to Bit, thoughtfully. "I went to one of Mr. Harris' symposiums. You could say it was a Hannibal Lecture." She smiles, Shadi does, and then turns back to Liesl. "Dearborn, born and raised. Represent." She holds up two fingers. "Also, I like your thought process on this! Crazy wolf people pretending to be people," a solemn nod, "and hoping no one notices. Yes, that's exactly what you meant. Right?" Another nod. "Thoughtful woman, your mother. Keeping you dressed appropriately as you dream," Liesl observes. The words are not so sarcastic as to sound as though she's taunting or challenging Bit. Neither are they specifically flirtatious. There is a certain caprice that Liesl wears more often in the company of wolves and kin than in other situations. "I think I prefer Carter's version better: at least it is closest to the truth and not tangled in Puritanical guilt as a means to keep children in line." "I rather like the crazy," this to Shadi. ".. in most manifestations. What most call 'people' seems to be a far more diverse group, as far as I can see. The Wyld? My world seems most often to benefit from additional helpings." When Shadi holds up her fingers in something between a scout's oath and a peace sign, Liesl looks momentarily torn between giving her a high 'two' and simply nodding as a sign-response. The latter wins, though to the motion rather than the words. "I like to notice. Everyone hides something. The finding out is the delicious part." Dearborn? Deerborn? Liesl contemplates the possibilities wordlessly. "She was," Bit agrees, his focus briefly moving inward, lost in his thoughts after the bread's safely tucked away on a high shelf. His head tilting, he seems to be catching their exchange as the words filter through his daydream. But, the dream flees, perhaps too soon for his preference, as his brow furrows as if in response to waking up and finding himself in Detroit. Reaching into the bag, he extracts the next item: a paper box, the sort designed to hold pastries. "It has its uses," agrees Shadi, solemnly, to Liesl. Her phonme then rings: "ALWAYS I WANT TO BE WITH YOU AND MAKE BELIEVE WITH YOU QAND LIVE IN HARMONY, HARMONY, OH LOOOOVE..." Shadi sends it to voicemail with a sigh. "But, yeah. From Dearborn. BEen here all my life." Dearborn, Michigan! The a-ha remains largely unshared with the other two. And Shadi's presence and knowledge here still a mystery. However, there's a moment there; so when Shadi's phone rings, Liesl pads over toward the bartop between where he contemplates cupboards and refrigerators with what must be Valjean's loaf of bread. "My condolences on your loss," she murmurs under her breath. Bit's moved on to a pastry box now - up close, she might be able to tell that it contains doughnuts, through the cellophane lid. Over the box, he gives Shadi a thoughtful look, head tilting at the ringtone. "Thank you," he replies to Liesl, inclining his head, his gaze sliding her way but not quite able to meet hers, as if their acquaintance is too fresh and the subject matter too delicate to risk eye contact. Then, he lifts the box, tucking it away on the same high shelf as the bread. Once Bit's almost-attention has moved elsewhere, Liesl paces the length of the broad lounge and stands near the entry to the back room, glancing at her watch with a brief, small frown. Another pivot, and the pacing leads her back to where she originally was sitting. Slowly she sinks to the end of that sofa and reaches for the phone in the side pocket of her bag once more. "So what is it exactly you do for them?" asks Shadi of Liesl, curiously. "I mostly've been doing research on things like Damian Shaw's corporate empire and all that." She beams at her, then glances over at Bit, seeming to think she's safe enough to talk to for the time being. "By the way, any progress on any of the things we talked about?" "I updated Sandra, earlier, on progress," Bit replies to Shadi, then extracts the manila envelope from the bag once more, the one he tucked away earlier. "The list of contractors, as we discussed," he nods to Liesl while placing it on the counter, then turns back to Shadi. "I have begun to make a few friends in the field. Regretfully, I do not have your charisma and ability to win friends at first glance." It's a compliment, as a faint warmth filters into his tone as he addreses her. "But progress is consistent." Depending on whether Shadi is now in her line of sight or not -- if she is Liesl will make eye contact -- Liesl replies, "I'll be working for the Ernst Corporation which will include everything from advising political candidates and their campaigns, to lobbying for causes and actions that benefit the corporation. Making fond acquaintances. Influencing the secrecy of Area 51 to keeping the conspiracy of the moon landing under wraps." Those bright blue eyes are sparkling again. "Mostly wearing uncomfortable dresses, high heels that eviscerate the male psyche and cause me interminable amounts of pain, and generally collecting a bank of favors from people in very high places." Direct. Far more Get-like. And for hardly knowing Shadi, and clearly pressing most of Bit's buttons this evening, it's a strangely direct answer. "In the meantime, there is an ahroun who is running late enough to raise some concern." She sing-songs softly directly after, "Or demanded penance, depending on the circumstances." Liesl uptips her chin in response, or even appreciation, to Bit's clarification on her behalf, and listens. Sandra's tasked her with learning the ins and outs of those complex charts and beginning to gather untraced intel on those who seem most strategically weak without necessarily tipping their hand should misfortune befall the corrupt. Bit's phone also rings, as if their phones decided to be in a round. "It's Derek," he explains to Shadi. "I should go meet him. Make sure she takes this?" he nods at the envelope on the counter. "Or take it yourself, if she does not?" he adds, then heads out, to take the call. | |
