16277/Step into my parlor...

Step into my parlor...
Date of Scene:	16 May 2024
Location:	The Club
Synopsis:	Shiloh has her meeting with the Guildmaster of New York. She Survives.
Cast of Characters:	Gambit, Shiloh Foster

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Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau and Shiloh step out of the cab dressed to the nines. The Cajun is wearing a suit that cost more then many at the mansion would imagine is his net worth, and he helped Shiloh pick out an appropriate evening gown for their first foray into the Thieves Guild playground. Once past the security and the coat check, they step down into the Underground casino that is going in full swing. The noise is almost a physical impact as he motions for her to join him at the bar. "Remember what Ah told yah," He offers as he gives her hand a light squeeze, "Tyre is a shark. Whatevah yah do, try not ta chum up de water." The look on his face is of pure concern for the woman he's grown quite close to in the last several weeks.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh tugs on the dress here and there to make sure it's fitting against her perfectly. She also still has her collar on since she never takes it off - except for that one time. And when she's alone in the shower. This is not that, however, and so it's affixed around her neck to hide her ultimate betrayal. Once past all security and such, and at the bar, she squeezes his hand back and nods. "I remember you telling me this. I will do my best not to stir up anything." She makes no promises however. The way Remy has spoken about Tyre...he seems a stark different from her father. Then again, she never truly saw her father in action until the bitter end. "You'll be here waiting for me once I'm done, right?"

Gambit has posed:
Remy LeBeau nods "Ah'll be eit'er right 'ere or in battle wit' whoevah tried ta move me." He says with that charming smile as a man who bears a striking resemblince to a knife blade walks to them. He ignores Remy focusing on Shiloh. A minor slight to a master thief, but the sort of thing the Cajun is well sccustomed to ignoring. Instead in a Jersey accent that boarders almost on parady he says "You'se Shiloh Fostah, right? The boss'll be seeing you now." as he grabs her upper arm.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
"Yeah that's me....Hey!" Shiloh quips and then tries to wrench her arm out of the other man's grasp. "I can follow you on my own, no need to grab me like that." Which, if she manages, she'll stay a pace behind the goon. Otherwise, she'll defer poise over argument and let the man haul her off, shooting one last look back to Remy before likely disappearing. "Manhandle a lady like that. Who taught you manners?"

Gambit has posed:
The goon doesn't let go at first, until Remy says "Shrew? Lose de 'and, or lose de 'and." His eyes glowing like hellfire embers. Shrew lets go quickly as says "right, sorry, wasn't thinkin'. My mistake." He says as he leads her from the casino into a short passage, then through a massive board room and finally into the office of the Guildmaster. The area is very modern, in art and technology. The only antique being the massive desk the man is standing behind.

Michael Tyre is actually an attractive man. Black hair with a prominent widows peak. His thin lips are held in a tight smile and he is wearing a black and grey suit that is every bit as well cut as Gambit's is. But his eyes are icy blue and completely devoid of...anything. Not just emotion, more like devoid of life.

Shrew scurries up to the Guildmaster and says "Miss Fostah's here sir." To which Micharl just nods and says "Thank you Shrew, do not let me detain you." the goon bobs with the notice and leaves Shiloh alone with the man. Michael nods to her, smiles emotionlessly, and gestures to a seat across from him. "Tea?"

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh doesn't say much as she's led down that short passage and then into the Guildmaster's office. A glance around to take in everything adorning the room before Shrew is allowed to leave and she's standing there a moment - alone with one Michael Tyre. A single brow lofts for a moment as the man smiles at her in that cold way he seems to have before he's motioning to a seat and offering her tea. "Earl gray if you have it. I usually take mine with a slice of lemon but nothing special need be done if you haven't a slice on hand. Plain will be perfect itself."

She takes the few steps that it takes to reach the seat in front of the desk and then settles herself, smoothing the skirt of her dress against her legs which then cross as a lady's would. "I must admit. I was surprised you asked to see me. Given that I do not have any true ties anywhere. Makes one curious as to why they were invited into one's...charming presence."

Gambit has posed:
Michael nods as he tips the pot, pouring into one of the thin cups. He nods to the small bowl of lemon wedges as well as he pours a second glass for himself. "Oh I should have done it much sooner, I was however rather tied down with...administrative matters." if that was supposed to be a private joke to himself or not is hard to say. "So how are you settleing in? From what I here your bakery is doing swift business.."

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh shifts to take one of the lemon wedges and gently squeezes it into the tea before drawing it around the rim of the cup. The wedge is placed on the saucer plate which is then picked up for Shiloh to bring more towards her. "Those matters can sometimes be quite a neusience to handle." Offering that much at least before taking a spoon to stir her tea and then lifts the cup for a small sip. "Business was slow at first, admittedly. Yet I have begun to get many words of mouth out among some friends and collegues. It seems to have bolstered the business a bit." Poised, calm. She sits up straight, speaks plainly and makes no fuss. Precisely as she was likely taught to do.

Gambit has posed:
The man nods simply, sipping his tea, "And LeBeau? I take it you've been seeing one another socially as well?" He asks curiously, rasin a perhaps diapproving eyebrow at his own question. "I feel I should warn you, he's not a safe man to be around. People who are friends with Remy LeBeau tend to find themselves hurt. Or worse.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh lifts her cup for another sip while listening to Michael's further questions. "We have been. Social, I mean." Answering this and then listening to the warning proffered. The left corner of her lips lifts in a slight smirk. "I appreciate the warning, but I do believe I can take care of myself. I am also sure that I have been in the presence of men and women far more dangerous than him." Even the idea of being hurt or worse does not seem to phase her - for whatever reason. That or she has an amazing poker face.

Gambit has posed:
The response seems to amuse Michael, at least enough for him to chuckle. "Oh i seriously doubt that. LeBeau is... well he's rather an extra-ordinary case. Last I heard his personal body count was somewhere between sixty an a hundred. To my understanding they were never able to sort all the parts out to get an accurate figure. And being his friend, well it does also saddle you with those who are also his enemies...

Shiloh Foster has posed:
"You speak as if you're among the ones who would consider LeBeau an enemy... yet you still allow him to grace your establishment with his presence." Shiloh counters, her head lifted just slightly in what might be considered a challenge. Though she's working backwards through what Tyre has told her, avoiding the specifics about body counts. Perhaps that is one line she refuses to cross - or maybe has a closer relation to than what most could research about her. "I will take my chances. If the choice is being on either end of his friendship...Seems a man like him could use a friend or two by his side."

Gambit has posed:
"He's a Master Thief, and that comes with some privlages one supposes. Even a modicum of respect. But he is a rogue. He was banished from his own Guild for murder, and then sought out a Master's rank just to spite those who exiled him. Then he comes to New York and rather then help move this Guild into the Future he tries to tie it down into the past. Like an albatross around it's neck. I'm sure you understand that, don't you? Three and four century old 'traditions' Holding us back." He gestures to her collar. "We live in the 21st century, but LeBeau would shackle us to the 17th."

Shiloh Foster has posed:
"Wait. What do you mean banished for murder?" Shiloh asks, pausing in her want to take another sip of tea and instead she sets the cup down. Listening to him further, when he speaks of being tied to the past instead of being able to leap into the future, she seems a little confused about that statement. Until he motions to her collar. She knows precisely what he's referring to, and instinctively a hand raises to the collar - as if protecting it. "I believe you speak on things which you don't understand. I am not bound by any tradition. I am not even a member of the Guild by any means other than birthright - and that means nothing any longer as I have absconded my right to such titles." Her mannerisms and decorum falter a bit and she only shifts her hand away from her collar after taking a steadying breath.

Gambit has posed:
"Just what I said," Michael says in a calm voice, almost conversational. "On the very day that the New Orleans Guild of Thieves and Guild of Assassins werer supposed to strike a peace accord, LeBeau murdered the son of the Assassin's Guildmaster. As a result he was banished from New Orleans. From what I understand if he ever goes back there ge is a dead man." He sips his tea and shakes his head. "And I do understand your position. Quite well actually. And lets not gild the lilly here, if you were not bound by Guild tradition and Guild /law/ you'd still be in London.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh blinks and for the first time, averts her gaze from Michael away to somewhere different - likely the floor - while processing the first thing he said. Course, she doesn't have the full story, just a snippet from someone who heard it by word of mouth. Language is a powerful thing. "Well." She offers, regaining her composure the best she can while looking back upon Michael with a smile. "Let's hope he has no reason to go back to New Orleans anytime soon." That said, his next words leave her a bit surprised. "It was not me who was bound by anything. It was my father. My actions may have caused a ruckus - a bit more than I intended - but he skirted the reprecussions himself. I...I merely left on his order to save face." She pauses. "And I could have gone anywhere. I likely could have stayed in London. I chose not to."

Gambit has posed:
"And if you hadn't left? The London counsol had already held a vote of no confidence agienst your father. They would have kept prodding. So you did what was best for your family. But you were forced to do it by those same traditions LeBeau holds so sacred, even though he himself is an outcast. Perhaps that is why. He's banished himself and so is trying to hold onto the traditions of the people who kicked him to the curb.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh sets her jaw for a moment. "Maybe LeBeau just needs to see things through a new light. Wouldn't that just tickle you. Two rogues discussing how to actually better the Guilds of today." Still, she now has questions the Cajun needs to answer. Yet she won't let Michael have the last smirk of this conversation. "I gave the entire London Guild a permanent finger to who they are at their core. I suspect if any one of yours did the same here, you'd oust them just as fast. Perhaps even take it a step further. I don't know a single person who doesn't have blood on their hands one way or the other. Mine surely aren't clean. Can you say the same?" She stands then. "...I believe we've said all that's needed to be spoken. Unless you have further need of my presence, I would like to leave."

Gambit has posed:
"Oh i have red in my ledger, certainly." The Guildmaster says amused. "But I don't call out every thief or clansman that gives me the finger. Of I did I would have dragged LeBeau into the Arena years ago and... how does the charter put it? Pursue gentlemanly means?" He shakes his head slightly "But that's not what I mean. You rejected Old world Guild socitey. Then you come to the domain of one of the most progressive guilds in the and inexplicably latch onto one of it's few dinosaurs. Can you explain that to me?" He deffinatly does not dismiss her..

Shiloh Foster has posed:
"I would like to remind you, Guildmaster, you and my father put LeBeau in my path. Was it your bleeding heart that sent the one you cannot stand to check on the daughter of one you likely respect? Something in it for you to make sure Guildmaster Foster's daughter is doing well on this side of the pond?" Shiloh takes a step towards his desk. "We talked. We laughed. We shared food. We fucked. And it's not like my being with Remy in any way is going to mess up any of your plans. He's exiled. I'm disbanned. Nothing but your emotions making mountains out of mole hills...and I stopped being told how to live my life the day I walked away from my father. And you're not him by any further means."

Gambit has posed:
Michael laughs. It's a deep rich belly laugh that has him wiping his eyes with a handkerchief by the end of it. "Is that what you think? That I asked LeBeau to lookin on you because I don't respect Guildmaster Foster? My dear girl, I am sorry. To be honest, I was simply trying to keep the Cajun busy for an evening. In fact I had specifically told him to shadow you, and reminded him that a Shadow is always in front or behind, but never on top." He sips his tea and then refreshes it. "I suppose I forgot underneath." He shakes his head a bit, "I'm trying to extend an olive branch, and perhaps gently warn you that you are playing with fire. Is that so terrible? i can't imagine what LeBeau must have told you about me.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh sighs. "That was my point, I suppose I worded it oddly. Blame my being British." Though that doesn't stop Michael from revealing that Remy wasn't supposed to reveal himself. Only shadow her. She actually shifts to sit down once more, smoothing out the skirt and crossing her legs again. "An olive branch? What would be the purpose of this olive branch? I know full well nothing is given for free. And I'm going to heed your warning about Remy...but in the end the decision is mine to remain friends with him or not. That's not a thing you can control."

Gambit has posed:
"Well I suppose that depends on your idea of payment." He says amused, "There are roles you could pick up in the Guild here. Ones that would show an alliegence to New York, and would in turn help fortify alliegences between New York and London. The relationship between the Americian Guilds is ...complicated. But having an Old World Princess on my side would certainly smooth some feathers..

Shiloh Foster has posed:
In Shiloh's mind, London doesn't recognize her as anything but a traitor, so why would Michael try to throw in with her? "I trust you aren't going to force me to make a decision right now? You haven't even offered me the other side of this. I do work for you, what do I get out of it?" And she leaves the talk of Remy where it lies, not even letting him try to tie her relationship with the Cajun to all this. Though she's sure he might still. The cracks in her foundation are getting longer. Wider. And she swallows back a lump in her throat, still trying to maintain the mask she brought in with her. Everything could crumble, in one word, she's sure of it. So maybe playing along for a time would benefit her the most.

Gambit has posed:
"What's in it for you? Picture this. Walking into the Guild hall in London with your head high. No collar. No shame. And not a damn thing they can do about it? Not to you, not to your father. Look them in the eyes and know that they are the ones who gave up on you." He smiles a bit, "Of course you can take time to think about it, but do consider what I am offering you. Not just freedom, but a tiny morsel of revenge too.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh seems to consider his words and then she gives a single nod of her head. "Alright. I'll consider it." Which is true. She will. Whether she'll consider it for an hour or a week is undetermined, and she's likely already made up her mind. Humor is a tool when used correctly, and for now, she'll humor Michael with this. The cold, calculated man across from her. What would happen if she threw his offer in his face? Still, she smiles. "Now, that all said and done, is our business with each other concluded for the time being?"

Gambit has posed:
The man stands and smiles, though it still does not reach his eyes. "Of course, for now at least. I've authorized you to have $10,000 worth of House Credit. Go enjoy the tables. Please, don't let me detain you." he says it calmly and immediatly turns to some paper in front of him.

Shiloh Foster has posed:
Shiloh stands as well, and even as he's turned to other business she at least is respectful enough for a, "Thank you, Grandmaster. Until we meet again." Before she turns and makes as graceful and hasty an exit as possible. Wanting to get back to Remy's side - but also out of this place for the moment. The house credit can wait. She wants to go home, have a shower, and get rid of the ick Tyre's left her feeling.