15782/Merchant of Death

Merchant of Death
Date of Scene:	10 November 2023
Location:	Hightown, Madripoor
Synopsis:	On the hunt for a rogue scientist, Sinister, Lucifer and Psylocke travel to Madripoor to secure an invitation to a Black Market auction from the Merchant of Death.
Cast of Characters:	Psylocke, Sinister, Lucifer

---

Psylocke has posed:
Two hours earlier, Betsy Braddock reached out to Sinister and Lucifer and asked them to meet her on the Phantom. Given Sinister's teleporters take them directly to where the jet is housed, it's a very quick trip. What probably makes it more interesting is her postscript: /Dress to impress./

What does that mean? Well, for Betsy, it means a stylish new outfit in white and purple, the tailored leather outfit close fitting and bearing skin at the midriff and thighs, complete with high-heeled white boots. It's the sort of outfit that rides the line between expensive, stylish, and ready to kick ass.

So like Betsy's usual.

Once she has the Phantom up in the air and heading for their destination, she briefs the pair, bringing up the hologram and a photo of a white-haired man in his fifties that may or may not be familiar. "This," Betsy says, "Is Yevgeny-Malevitch Volga. Also known in more criminal circles as the Merchant of Death. That poor mini me of you that's been running around, Nathaniel -- I traced some of his funding to Volga. Which is no big surprise. He deals in weapons, and he's not specific about the type of weapon. Mutants count."

Betsy's tone is measured. Not angry, not judgemental. Just laying out the facts. "There's a gathering at the Madripoor Museum of Art, and he'll supposedly be there along with his cronies. If anyone can convince a paranoid business man that they're in the market for mutants, I expect it would be you, Nathaniel -- having the devil on your side only enhances that reputation," she adds, with a knowing look at Lucifer. "I honestly don't care what we do with him. He's just our link to the scientist, and I want to take the scientist out of play, one way or another."

Sinister has posed:
Dress to impress, is it? Thus, there's a black silk number, a cheong-sam with a high collar embroidered with silver thorns, black roses and ravens across the whole of it. It's impeccably tailored, matched by moleskin pants with buttoned ankle cuffs and well heeled shoes. Add to that, that he is not even slightly about to hide who he is and the entire effect is /exceptionally/ Sinister and definitely has the right flavour, even if it's a flavour of a hundred years ago. Sometimes that's the entire point.

White jade, a significant hue, hangs form earrings, carved in the shape of lotus flowers, paired with gold hoops.

There's not a single hair out of place.

"So I must also assume, that you wish me to be my most Self-like self that I can possibly be, because I doubt they'll listen to me giving off the wrong... flavour." Adjustments are made on the flight, the hypersonic space-capable jet quite comfortable all things considered. It out-does the blackbird and then some. There's crew quarters, after all.

"All guns blazing, full slick bastard mode."

Lucifer has posed:
What about Lucifer Morningstar isn't already impressive to begin with? Perhaps this just gives the Devil a bit more room to dress for the occasion and - of course - he has to match his companion at the very least. If not in looks, than in style. Fully tailored Armani suit, soot grey in color, and three pieces of perfection. A blood red shirt is worn beneath the three piece, with a blood red handkerchief neatly folded and tucked into the left breast pocket. His shoes are black. Hair is perfectly imperfect and a touch more ink black than he ususally has. He doesn't hide himself fully behind a visage. Oh no. If Sinister is going all out, so is he. Instead of blues, his eyes are red and flare with a bit of hellfire.

"A mode that you do oh so well, my dearest." The Devil speaks with a silver tongue drenched in the most exquisite honey. He stands beside his companion and regards Betsy with a nod of his head, a half bow, with hand over his heart. "My lady. A pleasure, as always, to see you. Even if tonight is mostly business..."

Psylocke has posed:
"You two really look a sight for sore eyes," Betsy praises; and coming from a model that is high praise indeed. "I'm kind of tempted to take a photo. You both certainly delivered," she laughs. "Oh, Lucifer, it needn't all be business. If you want to play I'm not going to judge. It's Madripoor." She says it like one might say 'Vegas', only more so.

Betsy brings up the map of Hightown, zooming into the location of the Museum. The blueprint of the floor plans are rendered in 3D, and she turns it thoughtfully, highlighting exits, points of surveillance, and other places of note.

When Sinister suggests he goes as his most Self-like self, she regards him. "That would seem the most logical. Will you?" Betsy asks Sinister. Not, 'is he capable' -- because she knows he is. Sometimes, pretending to be the shell you've shed behind is uncomfortable and prone to opening old wounds. "I imagine it would be the most expedient, but I'm nothing if not adaptable if you'd prefer otherwise."

Sinister has posed:
"I shall handle myself with as much dignity and malice of forethought as I'm capable, have no fear..." Sinister looks sidelong to Betsy with a truly darkling smile for the emphasis, but luckily 'tis fleeting. "Thank you, I do attempt to brush up and polish with a bit of panache. It makes up for the days I'm covered in vomit and looking like I've been dragged through a million hedgerows backwards..." and that mental image instilled, he taps a couple of keys on the Phantom's console, looks to Lucifer with another wicked little smile and stands, heading to one of the consoles on the wall, ostensibly labelled 'medical' -- a draw pops open and he pulls out a couple of contact lens cases, handing each out.

"They're downloaded with the schematics, exits, thermal readings and an optical camera hijack. You'll just have to look at the camera you wish to view through and blink twice at it. The overheads should work by subtle eyemovement, also."

A single ring becomes 'visible' on his left hand signet finger, emerging from the flesh. Tis a serpent and a raven entwined together around a truly flawless ruby, engraved oh-so-subtley around its housing.

"Darling, I think you should be as much in your element as you usually withold. Don't take shit from anyone." - To Lucifer. And a nod, to indicate that he himself, is entirely ready.

Lucifer has posed:
"I do not believe you can understand the immense gift you have given him. The ability to simply and wholly unleash is not something we are often afforded for many reasons I'm sure you can understand..." Lucifer explains and then smiles at Nathaniel as the man offers him over a set of contact lenses which he takes. "Very nice. I shall use them wisely..."

It's when both Betsy and Nathaniel confirm that even Lucifer can be in his element today that he gives another Grin(tm). The grin that Nathaniel fell for. Could melt butter, break hearts, and harden men all in the same precise moment. "Oh. Oh yes. This will definitely be absoltely an incredible time."

Psylocke has posed:
"I can't say that I'm sorry to miss seeing you on /those/ particular days," Betsy notes to Sinister with amusement. She accepts the offered lens case, and places them in her eyes. "You truly do give the best presents, Nathaniel."

"I have a bit of a reputation in Madripoor. Not that sort of reputation that would get me invited a mutant auction, though, so I'll play back up and keep an eye on things. Reach out, if you need," she glances between the two. "I'll make myself open." Or more open than she is prone to, psychically speaking. She seems to take Sinister at his word; it's only when Lucifer says it's a gift that she glances at him, visibly surprised and not trying to hide it. "I think perhaps I don't," she agrees.

Betsy wll head back up to the pilot's seat and sit down to land the jet. Not because she needs to, but because she /wants/ to. When they get out, there's a black town car waiting to drive them deeper into the city.

Hightown in Madripoor is one of those locations where the rich /are/ the criminal, and they flaunt it. There are some well known businesses operating in the US who headquarter their operations here merely to avoid certain laws, which all amounts to the fact that this place is brimming with wealth and opulence that barely coats the illegal elements that fund it all.

The Museum of Art might is no exception. Funded by the current ruler of Madripoor, it houses priceless artwork that has been openly stolen or more subtly 'replaced', for display here in their original forms. A night like this, full of people wearing the most glitzy of outfits and jewelry, would -- in New York -- be the basis of a fundraiser. Here, they're doing it merely to show off their wealth. At the entrance, they undergo a scan -- one that sees through Betsy's psychic illusion to note the katana she wears over her back. Fortunately, a bright smile and a little mental nudge makes the security guard 'forget'.

"Good luck," Betsy whispers to the pair, as she disappears off into the crowd.

There are waiters carrying around trays of drinks and Hors d'Oeuvres, smatterings of gatherings of people in front of various pieces of art. They'll find their target, Volga, near the Mona Lisa, entertaining a small crowd with a story about pulling one over on the Brazilian military. It involves a lot of explosives, apparently. "Enough to start a small forest fire," he's laughing, and the crowd around him is laughing along with him.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's smile is thin lipped to the words spoken by Lucifer. Oh, how true those words are. And in silence, they descend, board the car and all the while, Sinister is either poised with his eyes closed, or is viewing the vaneer of glamour over the underbelly of rot, through lashes lowered to a mere slit.

And when the car stops? He unfolds with the kind of grace and poise that puts the mind into thinking 'unfurl' is probably more appropriate. Tall, shoulders squared, chin held just so, he walks like a Pirate mandarin, hands tucked the sleeves of his cheong-sam, not /deigning/ to look at anyone in particular. He does not even stop purposefully for the security scan -- they will have to chase him with their devices and even then, get an icy-cold stare for their trouble, which is paradoxical for a man with flaming eyes.

He drifts, as if purposeless, but none of it is. By face after face, tech mogul and illegal pharmaceutical rep all, people that /know/ him and will start the whispers going, until he ends up by the Mona Lisa, a glance over his shoulder to review and regard how LUCIFER makes his own mark on the moment.

It may be worthwhile. But make no mistake, he is listening keenly to Volga.

Lucifer has posed:
Where Sinister 'unfurls' himself from the confines of the car that they arrived within, Lucifer is more fluid in nature. Having not been by Nathaniel's side and then suddenly he's simply there like he's been washed ashore. But the fluidity doesn't end there, for he walks with the grace he can afford being the Devil on Earth among the scum that feed him.

Yes. Feed.

There is plenty here in the way of sin. Pride. Jealousy. Envy. Gluttony even. Lucifer looks over the crowd that looks over Nathaniel and begin the whispers. The lies. The half-truths. Eyes flare with the hellfire they consistently burn with his night and he takes a few deep breaths in. This is while they make their rounds. Nod their heads. Offer kind but silent smiles of greeting.

Then they are at the Mona Lisa, hearing the tale that Volga spins. The Pride he takes in recanting it to the small crowd. The mix of jealousy and envy among those who have gathered to listen. He adds in his own laughter, a little louder than those gathered so they all sort of stop in the midst of their enjoyment. "Oh I do not think that story will ever get old. You should tell them about the time you left your business partner to die because you thought it better to sign the deal, throw him under the bus, and make an escape for yourself..."

Psylocke has posed:
Sinister's entrance really does cause a stir. First: because of his complete disregard for security -- there's a moment of alarm and alert, guards scrambling, until they can scan the man. This gets more than one look, and more than one whisper of his name among the crowd.

Volga appears to be a man who, like Sinister, makes no apologies for who he is, and no attempt to hide it. He's dressed in an expensive, tailored black suit that /almost/ hides the pudge around his waist; his long white hair is captured by a leather band. There are gold rings on each of his fingers, a gold necklace and a gold Rolex decorating him. All things that scream wealth and power in equal measures.

He is also completely and wholly unconcerned about his own physical safety. Despite his nomenclature as the Merchant of Death, the man appears to be carrying no weapons of his own.

It doesn't mean he's defenseless, though. Two of his 'cronies' are spotted easily, within a few steps distance of him: watchful and alert, they breathe 'bodyguard' -- and despite the scan they are packing weapons that would be illegal on US soil, let alone in a conceal carry capacity. There's a third man too, hovering far more distantly back, watching things from afar, occasionally sipping at a glass but never drinking.

When one of the audience asks Volga how he fled the country to avoid the military, the Merchant merely laughs. "Who said I fled? So much easier to mount an insurrection from the inside, don't you think?" That's about when Lucifer makes himself known. Several in the small crowd gape at Lucifer, shocked by his audacity, stunned by his angelic beauty, or both. Volga, though, narrows his eyes, a hatred burning in them for the intruder trying to tank his reputation. "I agree one should never trust a traitor. That's why I shot him between the eyes for betraying me." A lie. Volga would do anything to get ahead. To /win/. "And just who do you think you are, throwing around such blatantly false accusations?"

Sinister has posed:
"One who can smell a lie a mile away and expose it for what it is, Yvgeny Volga. Insurrections are so yesterday -- but that would be why you aren't in Russia. Volga -- this is the Morningstar." And he says that loud enough for any and all to hear, looking around like they're so many interesting experiments in walking, talking and existing. But then, there's the charm, the smile that begins and radiates. "What, I cannot make an entrance? It would not be me, myself and I, if I did not." A backhanded wave in a shoo-shoo! gesture, will at least have a couple of heads turning away. And more making note, no doubt.

His gaze sweeps the bodyguards and the one set apart, apparently negligently, before he looks down quite the ways to the Russian, then to the painting.

"So much hidden in smiles, don't you think? I came /especially/ because I heard you would be here, tovarisch. I do hope my time is not going to be wasted, or worse... cheapened."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer stands a little taller, and perhaps shines just a twitch brighter, when Sinister mentions his name. "Morningstar comma Lucifer. In the flesh." He offers with a grin. "False accusations are not my forte. I speak the truth and only the truth because I cannot tell a lie. It's just not in my nature. You on the other hand...you are a liar. A cheat. A thief. You drip with the sins of yourself, and some of your enemies..." He leans in just a bit and takes a deep inhale through his nose. "Oh I could feed off you for DAYS and likely not get full...you're a tasty little morsel. Much better than the snacks that surround you..."

He grins.

"How do you mount an insurrection while also burning down half the city with explosions? And I would surmise that it is YOU who were the traitor in that little scenario. Signing away the lives of those whom you trap in your little web, spinning and spinning, thinking them flies the lot..." He takes a step closer. "Well, I am on to your little scheme dear spider...tell me...have you ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight?" Pause. "No?" Another pause. "Then would you care to dance?"

Psylocke has posed:
In a room like this, there are a lot of dangerous people. Some physically, some merely through the power they wield. Yet one thing almost all of them have in common is an ability to recognize a bigger threat. It's effectively what Madripoor is: a pool of criminals where only the most savvy, cunning and survival focused rise to the top.

So it's probably no surprise that several, just in the presence of Sinister and Lucifer, decide they have somewhere else to be tonight, not just moving away from the pair but leaving the building all together.

Then again, there's a whole class of people that rely on their reputation and bravado, and the certainty they're the most dangerous thing in the room. Exhibit A: One Merchant of Death. Volga's eyes narrow at Sinister's words. "Da? You wish to talk, then talk, fancy man."

That bravado? It goes wholly out the window the more Lucifer talks, as the devil cuts right through Volga's lies and falsity and begins to burn down his very reputation. The first thread of fear sparks in Volga's gaze, though he rallies enough to wave his hand sharply at the crowd around them. "It seems the two gentlemen and I have business. Be gone." He waits until they disperse, chin lifting as he cuts his gaze between the pair, eyes flat. "What do you want? You're clearly here for more than just to play. I should know. I can always sense when there's an opportunity in the air."

Sinister has posed:
"Thank you darling, you are always so very polished in your presentation," Sinister says with a half-glance part profile to the devil. He reaches out to the lines of that impeccable suit jacket and traces a sharp-nailed finger along the seam, around the cuff of the arm and down his side, a stroke and a demonstration both. He leans closer, words quiet. "Now that attention is grabbed, I suggest one of the other galleries in private viewing, bring your guards, I don't much care. And then, you can walk -out- of this with a greater reputation than the one you just had shattered to pieces, rest assured."

He glances around then on the straightening and does not even look to see if Volga is following, merely walks off, clicking fingers at one of the waiters and gallery staff. "The Ming collection. Now. Chop chop." -- walking on.

Eyes are sent to the guard 'set back' from the others, then to those faces that he might have to butter up or dress down later, to maintain this illusion, before he slips into the private viewing areas.

So much wealth, priceless pottery and artifacts stolen from the Chinese republics and out of the hands of the former empire itself, he can be found regarding a very exquisite vase, human sized, originally for hiding that very thing inside.

"I have heard that you intend to branch out somewhat into living weaponry, Volga. Might I inquire what kind of product you are after?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer lofts a brow upwards and then gives a bit of a grin and his head tilts upwards at the praise given. He doesn't say another word at this point, just listening as Sinister continues his talk with Volga. When the suggestion is made that they retire to another gallery to continue their talk in private, he begins to move a step or two behind Sinister who walks onwards and gives a snapping of the fingers to hurry the rest of the group with them.

Volga has guards. Sinister has the Devil. Someone can -try- to do something to them, but the Devil is wise and not without his own abilities. So he'll be keeping a sharp hellfire-burning gaze to all of those that enter the Ming Gallery with himself and his companion. Staying one step behind Sinister to show that he is there and he is watching...but he is also letting his lover take the lead on this.

Psylocke has posed:
Volga appears to visibly weigh Sinister's offer, but it's more of a pretence than any real considering. Of course he accepts, with a sharp nod. The man wants to save his own reputation. There's also a distinct curiosity in his gaze. People like Sinister and Lucifer aren't exactly the kind of people he usually deals with.

Trailing after the pair, Volga glances at his guard companions, who follow at a little distance as Sinister leads them to a private viewing area. It's quieter in here, away from the noise of the chatter. They're surrounded by opulent, dripping wealth, but the Merchant has eyes only for the two men.

Amusement lights his gaze. Ah, now this he can understand.

Lucifer can immediately sense the greed that flares in Volga's eyes at Sinister's question about his new merchandise. "/Intend/ to? I already /have/. The finest of stock. But no matter how much you threaten me, you can't jump the queue. There's a black market auction to be held, all prizes going to the highest bidders. Capitalism at its finest, gentlemen. You want an invite? I can help... if you make it worth my while. From what I hear, you've perfected the art of extracting the X-Gene, Dr. Essex. I'm looking to acquire a very specific skillset."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister smiles. There's absolutely no mirth in it, no warmth, no compassion or humanity, but it LOOKS charming. Patiently he tucks his hands into the small of his back, giving his chest open wide to the criminal deathdealer; that bodylanguage is as clear as day also. He is not remotely concerned or afraid of the man, open, but also unabashedly confident.

"Excellent. You will get us invites, my fine Russian friend." Not a 'can you deal for some' or 'we'll bribe you for it' oh, no.

The intensity and clinical dispassion is full frontal in the gaze. If Psylocke is watching on the cameras to keep tabs on them, this was what Lucifer meant. Sinister glances over his shoulder at Lucifer, gives a soft jerk of his chin in aknowledgement and looks back, leaning down so he can look directly in Volka's eyes.

"You can keep your prizes, they're inferior to absolutely anything I could produce. But you probably could never have afforded any of my work. I -am- the best in the entire galaxy." No ifs, no buts. "Incomparable. But, I do not like it when people try and immitate me, badly. In fact, I get quite crochetty about it. So, unless you want to find out just how irritable I can be, along with your ... grand-daughter, her mother and every asset you own... you will make this happen. And you will give me what I want. Which is the man that sold you these ... substandard promises..." He smiles again, still black as sin itself. "And in return, you can keep all the money you make, because I'm a magnanimous and generous individual to an absolute fault." Deadpan. "And I will /deign/ to look at the specific skillset you're after. You will get a better product and the thrill and honour of saying you dealt with the Devil himself and came out richer. And that you have Sinister's work. Those are your options. I do not negotiate."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer listens. Mostly because he loves moments like this. When Sinister gets to -be- Sinister. When nothing and no one can touch the man because of simply how everything he is all at once. There might even be a slight tremor of enjoyment from listening to the commanding power that is Nathaniel's voice in this moment.

Once Sinister has finished talking, laying out everything he wants and what he wants in return for it, Lucifer holds up a single finger. "Before you even consider a counteroffer, or trying to low ball anything that Sinister has just said, allow me to remind you..." And he motions towards the exit to the main gallery. "I took a portion of your reputation down in -seconds- with naught but words. Imagine what I could do to it given time to actually plan out what I want to say, how I want to say it, and where I wish to show it. This is not a threat. This is a promise. You will take this deal. Should you try to fuck us over, fuck Sinister over, or take even a toe-step out of alignment with everything laid before you in this agreement...I will be there to make you suffer..." He grins. "And I will be there again when you die to ensure you get the *best* treatment Hell has to offer a man like you....Greedy. Prideful...." He takes a breath in though his nose.

"...Delicious..."

Psylocke has posed:
The Merchant of Death is a man who knows fear. Is intimately familiar with it. Only he's normally the one /giving/ it, not on the receiving end. The transformation is a thing that can be seen in real time. He is defiant and openly derisive at first, when his family is threatened. Either he has none, or he cares little for them, that much is clear. It's when his /assets/ are threatened that he truly takes notice.

Yevgeny-Malevitch Volga is worth two-hundred and sixty-eight billion... and change. A man like that amassing a fortune like that -- and yes, Lucifer feed off the greed coming off him in waves -- is not quick to want to give up what he's earned. And yet he's not amassed a fortune by dealing fairly, that much is clear. Undoubtedly thoughts of double-crossing, ways to make the most of such an offer certainly do cross his mind...

At least until Lucifer speaks. Volga's now-wide eyes are glued to the devil's, his heartbeat racing so fast even he can't tell whether it's sparked by fear or desire. He absolutely, one hundred percent believes Lucifer. There's fire, literally, in the man's gaze.

Volga's tongue twitches out to touch his lips, fear in his gaze, but he holds himself steady. The idea of getting an even better produce is very, very compelling, and he's utterly convinced fucking over either of these men is a very bad idea. "I am looking for exceptional healing factor. I understand there are many mutants who possess this feature. For someone of your capability, it should be no issue at all, da? For that, you can have the scientist. I don't know precisely where he is right now, but I know where he'll be. Same as everyone. At the Black Market. I'll even do you a solid and point you his way when he gets there."

His gaze sketches towards Lucifer, and with a wipe of sweaty palms against his trousers, he glances back to Sinister. "Deal?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister tilts his head, as if to say 'is that all?' all the while fully aware that the Devil is getting his Due. He holds up his left hand, from the small of his back, palm open. He then advances menacingly on the nearest bodyguard -- silenced weapon, hopefully given that they're where they are at. One wouldn't want to disturb the partygoers with a loud ruckus -- and makes to grab the gun. When it goes off and unfortunatley gets utterly crushed by his grip, he smiles at the man, nods and turns his back holding up the hand with the horrendous hole straight through it.

Which heals in a matter of a couple of seconds. He waggles his fingers.

"That was one of the very first abilities I isolated and perfected. My ability to heal is bar none." He glances at Lucifer. "With a few exceptions of course -- I am what I made myself. My companion came by immortality and invulnerability the good old fashioned divine way. Archangels do get some fantastic portfolios on being exceptionally well created." Strolling back, he fishes a handkerchief from his sleeve and cleans off the mess on his hand, mostly just the chordite as the blood has been reabsorbed.

"Excellent. I expect results. If I don't get them, you don't get them and blahblah blahdiblah, intimidation, threats, promises, etcetera."

His eyes flash brilliant flames that lick his eyebrows a moment. "And I will find you, no matter where you are. I do hope you have a /smashing/ evening. Do go ahead and head out to the crowd, love it up and lap it up. You ...." he laughs, whimsically "...won."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer is silent and still as Nathaniel demonstrates the power of his healing. There isn't a flinch, not a flicker of worry or even the slightest thought to move in Nathaniel's direction out of concern.

The Devil is still and silent.

He lets Nathaniel finish up this meeting, and the deal being made within it. Only after they have dismissed Volga and his men does he turn to Nathaniel and gives a shit-eating grin. "Now that...was fascinating. And fun. Why don't we do this more often?"

Psylocke has posed:
The bodyguard's eyes widen as Sinister comes towards /him/. He was present for all of the threatening, so he absolutely understands what kind of person Sinister is and yeah, there's utter terror in his gaze as he fumbles for his weapon. Only before he can even think to turn it on the man, Sinister has acquired it and is making a very clear demonstration of his own capabilities.

"Holy shit," the man utters, and while Volga doesn't say it, it's clear the Merchant of Death is also impressed. He's no strange to either gunfire, flesh wounds nor blood -- none of those make him flinch. If anything, he looks envious; there's definitely waves of avarice coming off him, but he's also no fool. A man with powers like that is dangerous, and he's a survivor.

"I believe you, Dr. Essex. I do not plan to let you down. This is, as you say, the start of a relationship." Or whatever the quote is. Volga does jerk back when Sinister's eyes turn fiery also, sucking in a sharp breath. He doesn't exactly bolt but he does move very, very fast for a man with a pudgy middle, his bodyguards scrambling after him.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister watches the departure, then quietly but purposefully looks up at the camera, does a fingerwiggle at it and glances at the deepest shadow in the room. Only THEN does he turn to Lucifer, gaze at him a moment, then smiles with all the warmth that all that interview lacked.

"Because we have to have a reason to do so, my darling. We're trying to behave ourselves-- otherwise it's just ..." he wrinkles his nose "...crass. But we can certainly entertain twisting a few arms in the future, if it gets you all hot under the collar." He grins.

Then to the shadow. "I trust that you heard all of that, miss invisible witness?"

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer grins. "It took everything I had not to melt at your words to him, my darling..." Saying this much as he checks the doorway for a moment, to ensure there are no lingering eyes from Volga or his men and then he leans in and nips at Nathaniel's neck. "You just wait until we're home..."

Some people he doesn't mind putting a show on for, so when Nathaniel speaks to the shadow, to the one hidden there, he turns and looks to the shadow himself and gives a smirk. "I trust you enjoyed that show as well..."

Psylocke has posed:
"You were very convincing."

Betsy Braddock never knew Sinister at the height of the worst of the things he did in service of science, but she can absolutely believe all of them are true after that demonstration. The purple-haired telepath steps out of the shadow, heels clicking on the floor.

"And I enjoyed it very much, Lucifer... though it looks like you enjoyed yourselves even more," with a smile towards Lucifer. The smile disappears fairly quickly though, Betsy's expression hardening. "Getting the scientist, stopping his work is critical. But Volga made it sound like he wasn't just selling genetic extracts. I don't like this at all."

She rattles out a sigh. "Shall we get back to the Phantom? Or do you two want to stay here?" There's plenty to appeal about Madripoor; she's not going to judge.

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, that's a promise not said, that I shall thoroughly take you up on," Sinister gives a very soft, but audible inhale at the nip, reaches out and draws a hand down the devil's side to his hip and returns a promise in a smile. Then, he turns to Betsy and inclines his head.

"It's likely the case that he isn't 'just' anything. The funny thing that I can tell you from experience, is when you're trying to find something, you inadvertantly tend to stumble on something else, by happy accident, a lot of the time. Case in point: these geneticists these days accidentally created rabbits with giant tongues, in the search for giving them larger ears. The combinations are potentially endless and a repeated meme on such technology is 'what can I use THIS bizarre mishap for?' - only instead of tongues, we'll say... the ability to regulate salt intake in your lungs, delivered by vector of a viral gas. Suddenly, you have a whole lot of people with unexpected cystic fibrosis, drowning on air."

He just shrugs at this, because it is what it is and nobody is exactly asking him for all his combinations.

A look is given back to Lucifer at this, a silent question in the arch of an eyebrow.

Lucifer has posed:
That silent promise gives Lucifer a cause to pause and smirk, taking in his lover's scent for a moment before they're addressing Betsy. He lets the two talk shop for the moment, not really having anything to contribute to such conversation. Though he does take in what was said and after a moment looks back to the exit into the main gallery once more.

"Part of me wants to tail the man...but another part of me feels that it's also too soon. Though I wonder how long it will take for him to realize there are more eyes on him now than he anticipated from the beginning..." A chuckle is given at that and then a shrug before he hears Betsy's last question and feels Nathaniel's silent gaze on him.

"I vote we head back to the Phantom. After all, I have a promise to keep and I intend to keep it while riding my current high..."