2764/It's Just Good Business

It's Just Good Business
Date of Scene:	09 October 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Siryn

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Lucifer has posed:
Lux by day is a far different cat than its nighttime fanfare. Only stands to reason that a high-powered club catering to a very unusual clientele would display a calmer, mysterious air when the sun rises. Oh, there are still the regulars around who haunt the bar and swill whiskey or stranger brews over their tablets, newspapers, and contracts. Finely tailored suits are the name of the game here. Few people would ever be described as anything less than a powerbroker.

Lucifer might be that exception on the face of it. The black haired man rests his elbow against the bar and hums some melody, looking over a newspaper in the honest to God print form. Something about the rustle of the paper is mildly entertaining. But he waits, as is his wont. Sleep is hardly necessary for him and he's been enjoying something of the promised sunnier weather for the week. A few calls put through the right channels isolate him as an art patron -- quiet, discreet, pays on time, a heavyweight when it comes to knowing exactly what he wants.

Not bad for the right person willing to uphold the discretion and make the right inquiries. So it might come to pass that's how he ended up linking to Ms. Cassidy in the first place.

Siryn has posed:
The call for an appraiser and acquisitions expert came, and so off the young one goes! Her first full-on client in this job, and he wants to meet at a club in the middle of the day. Theresa of all people can appreciate that. She lets herself into the club, trying to look not as nervous as a first-timer. Her red hair is caught up in a knot at the top of her head and a nice business skirt and top. Catching sight of the only person in the place, she walks with a confident stride toward him. "Mr. Morningstar? I'm Theresa Cassidy. Good mornin'." Her Irish lilt is musical as she holds out her hand in greeting.

Lucifer has posed:
Mr. Morningstar never ceases to sound vaguely odd, even to the man who bears the name and the title. His electric blue gaze shifts above the paper's crisp edges. Whatever new turmoil afflicts some faraway island nation marks the mast, and he folds up the latest edition of the Bugle. Neat, crisp lines restore the paper back to its near printed off form. He probably can roll up sleeping bags to fit in their sleeves on the first time, and put a USB cord in correctly every time. It's a charmed life. He uncrosses his legs and pushes himself up, in no rush to close in on the woman headed his way. "Good morning, Ms. Cassidy," he replies. Her accent may be pure Irish; his is undoubtedly the byproduct of many an English boarding school in the Home Counties, except for the fact he certainly predates their existence. Nonetheless, it's received pronunciation rounded out by Cambridge all the way. Her hand is taken lightly in his own, and he pauses for only a moment. Whatever his habits, a shake will do rather than bowing or anything more formal. "I am delighted you could find the time to spare this morning. Would you care for any refreshments?"

Siryn has posed:
There's a flicker in her blue eyes when he takes her hand, the weight of his presence making her pull in a subtle breath. She's been in the presence of "old" ... she's Irish! This feels a little different. But she smiles at him. "'Twas no hardship, I assure ye," Theresa tells him quietly. "No, but thank ye for th' offer. I'm interested in hearin' what yer lookin' for and how I can help ye. Th' office wasn' verra clear."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer's touch is like any other, warm skin and fingers possessed of a certain strength. His fine grooming includes his nails, which are spotless and neatly trimmed, just as the rest. He withdraws his hand and nods, having forsworn a jacket in favour of just his typical crisp white shirt left loose at the collar. "Of course. If you decide you want a spot of tea or something more invigorating, you need only say. We pride ourselves on hospitality, after all." The smooth transition from incidentals to business is quite effortless for him, and he returns the smile slightly. "Come, let's find a quieter place to sit."

His choice in question, a neat, deep booth tucked dead centre to allow him a view of everything. The low table has a hexagonal lantern casting a warm light despite the daytime, given Lux's interior trends to dim. "Where shall I begin? I have reviewed my personal collection and found it lacking in a few places, perhaps. I have it on fine authority that you show promise and ambition. Not to discredit any colleagues, but I feel someone with a certain fire to them excels in the acquisitions field. The sort of thing I care to encourage."

Siryn has posed:
When they move away from the counter, there's a subtle easing of her shoulders. Having a table and conversation between them breaks up that sense of gravitas about him and makes it easier for Theresa to focus on him. Sweeping her skirt under her as she slides into the seat with that graceful move women have perfected when wearing skirts, the redhead settles herself comfortably in the seat near the edge where she doesn't have to slide across the padded bench. She gives him her full attention, studying his unusual features thoughtfully as she listens.

"I'm flattered," she replies in that lilting voice. "I admit tha' havin' a client such as yerself ask fer me is surprisin', but I'm grateful fer the opportunity. D'ye mind if I ask ye what ye feel yer missin' in yer collections? Of course, I'd like th' opportunity t' look them over personally so tha' I might better advise ye as well, but .. " She smiles slightly. "This bein' our first meetin', I'd hate t' seem too forward."

Lucifer has posed:
While no one would ever describe him as carefree unless talking about a whole other person, Lucifer doesn't demonstrate a commitment to being terribly formal, either. He eases into a seat, sitting at a crooked angle, one leg crossing over the other to the mortification of chiropractors everywhere. The gleam of his polished shoes up to the raven spill of his hair all give a sense of poise, not quite predatory. Yet there's still something beneath, an element of otherness that can't be discounted. He considers Theresa for some moments, and then taps a finger upon the black coaster already down.

"Good instincts," he observes, not at all put out. His tone is smooth, even calm. "I have the occasional fit of pique awakened by something of interest, now and then. The Voynich Manuscript, for example. Have you ever heard of it? Medieval text, befuddling scholars, and widely surmised to be a medicinal codex that's encrypted. I have a taste for that, I admit, if you think you can acquire it. I also heard news of a collector prepared to part with a Rossetti of decadent quality. Lady Lilith, in this case. It's expected to go up for auction. Poor buyer back ten years past or so found his fortunes declining. If you happen to have access to any others, I'll gladly consider those, too. Pre-Raphaelites are something of an oddity nowadays, I realize."

Siryn has posed:
Theresa quirks a brow. "Aye, Th' Voynich would be quite th' manuscript t' get your hands on," she agrees easily. "I sincerely doubt th' Beinecke is goin' t' sell tha' one. Illuminated manuscripts, as ye must know, are always a hot topic. I know right at this moment, some lovely examples are available." She purses her lips, considering. "None tha' I've seen in th' recent lists, however, would suit whit I believe ye t' be seeking. Now that I've an idea of whit interests ye, I'll be able t' narrow th' field."

As she grows more confident, despite the fact that he seems an unusual person, Theresa's body language eases as well. "Does th' Voynich pique your interest simply because no one knows what it is?"

Lucifer has posed:
"For the moment, they might not be willing. Yale has always proved a bit of a tough nut. However, for the proper endowment?" He shrugs his shoulders lightly, and Lucifer offers that barest hint of a grin. "I don't shoot small. Besides, they have their challenges currently with maintaining the collection. It's not a cheap endeavor. Everyone has their price and I trust you might be able to find out what might allow them to at least permit a circulation of it." He measures Theresa again, the curiosity there rather than anything more untoward. "The Voynich's art is rather quaint and the fact no one understands it doesn't surprise me in the least. I rather have fond memories of the illuminator."

Siryn has posed:
Theresa blinks for a moment, her expression not changing as her brain parses those words. Her thoughts flicker from one possibility to the next on the matter of who -- or what -- she could be dealing with here. Insane guy? Sure, possible. Immortal? Also possible. The air around him lends itself that possibility strongly. Like castles in the Old World, he kind of reeks of Time and Experience for all his young appearance. Okay... so if we go with immortal... and if this is a test of her reactions or something. Better make a good show of it, right? Right.

"Sure'n I'm thinkin' ye might, if ye can actually solve tha' little mystery fer them, give them a little nudge along th' way," Theresa replies calmly. "If fer no other reason than t' make some of th' more annoyin' scholars of th' piece go find somethin' else t' do." She meets his eyes and smiles slightly, struggling just a little. She has no idea at this moment whether she might be in a heap of trouble, but she's bound and determined that she's not going to blow this interview. "But perhaps ye rather like seein' them dither aboot like ants, yeah?"

Lucifer has posed:
Nothing like patience of the truly ageless to allow others the opportunity to connect the dots, whether in linear or roundabout fashions. When all is laid out on the table but covered by a drop cloth, it's inevitably amusing or inspiring to see how well the mortals decipher the shapes beneath. It speaks to the character of Ms. Cassidy what answers she gives and the sensitive responses she evinces after a time. He's not going to rush the process. Like a good bourbon, some results require time to age unbothered.

"They would certainly welcome a conclusion. Every so often, scholars pop up with their theories. Not the batty ones," Lucifer muses, "like Shakespeare was a pseudonym for a courtier in Elizabeth's court or a woman, or even a procession of writers using one front. But the legitimate discoveries, like someone who breaks Minoan A or discovers that Babylonian star charts actually contain algebra, we just never saw it that way." Scholar and businessman, him, clearly enough. "Consider it a high bar to meet but an opportunity. If you can achieve it, you'll be the toast of the set. If you cannot, then focus on what you can. I admit the Rossettis are much easier, though perhaps that's not so exciting in your field." He grins briefly, sharing her humour enough. "I enjoy seeing good art that captures something about existence. The warmth of a brush that turns mere watercolour into motion, or transforms a scullery girl into the icon of an age through sheer devotion. There is beauty all around, and it's a fair bit easier to frame a painting than an atom."

Siryn has posed:
As she listens to him speak, Theresa's chin lifts at the challenge that she won't be able to obtain what he wants. The way he speaks, though... She's beginning to understand. He can see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Her mind has continued to lay out the possibilities for her, but the one that is the most obvious -- his NAME is MORNINGSTAR, for heaven's sake -- is where she's stuck. Being raised Catholic doesn't lend itself to allowing a person to think they're sitting across from ... HIM. She's having difficulty wrapping her head around what her brain is attempting to tell her.

"I rarely take th' easy way," Theresa tells him baldly. Even when she probably should. She isn't unaware of her own flaws. And by God, she's a X-Man! She's met gods before! "Ye aren' gonna ask me t' sign anythin' in blood, are ye? I'm gonna have t' draw th' line there." Testing the water? Nah... may as well just jump into the deep end of the pool and see what it gets her.

Lucifer has posed:
"Take the way best for you. I don't believe in confining someone's creativity," Lucifer replies easily. "Rather defeats the purpose, doesn't it? You study to become an expert in the area of acquisitions. You make the connections and know how to go about things. And what fun is there in throwing up a number of pointless hurdles? I encourage you to pursue the course that seems best to you, and if you want to check in, of course I can provide my professional or personal opinion." By God she is an X-man; she's met gods. But this is the creator above all's first creation, the initial spark from the void, and everything else in every multiversal incarnation follows. Yet here he is.

"Blood? What on Earth?" The mild surprise ripples through and vanishes away. Is the gig up? More than likely. "Scarcely not, Ms. Cassidy, not the least because of the health code violations that certainly might give my staff a headache. Unemployment, or even a temporary hiatus while everything gets sorted out, would hurt good people. No. I of course have a standard contract outlining expectations for fees and reimbursements, the usual discretion, but it's already something parallel to your company's. Perhaps the only addition is that I strictly require no discussion with the media in any form. It's as much for respecting my privacy as yours or a potential seller's. Naturally you understand the sort of interest that comes with the sale of art frequently brings out criminal sorts, Perhaps the most lucrative criminal enterprises in the world run on the backbone of art."

Siryn has posed:
Right then. Well... it didn't answer her exactly. Maybe he's THAT Morningstar, maybe there are more of them! Like Loki and Thor! But given his response there on the whole contract of blood and what have you? Eh. Theresa's fine with simply letting it go! Honest (lies)! "Well, ye know... in this day and age, I had t' ask," she informs him simply. "Gods, alien invasions, ye see where I'm goin' with tha'. Yer name alone makes good Catholics quake in their boots. I'm pretty far from a good Catholic, so... I figured I just better make sure that, if ye *are* that particular Morningstar, I knew what I was gettin' into." She nods as if that satisfies her concerns (it doesn't really) and any desire to pry further (again, nope). He's a businessman.

"As t' th' media... I avoid them at all costs. Discretion is somethin' ye can absolutely count on." And there's a bit of a small smile. "Aye, I'm reasonably well aware of th' kinds of art that finds its way int' those enterprises as well. I had somethin' of an unusual upbringin'. I can handle anythin' that comes out of th' woodwork on tha' front."

Lucifer has posed:
He's certainly not the namesake of the Morningstar food company, that's for certain, and one could ascribe hundreds of epithets and names to him. But alas, let the conscience start doing a cheerleading dance to try to bring around her good Catholic morals to the pompom squad. This is whom he is. "Naturally. I have to think it's important to be sure you aren't getting into bed, pardon the crass idiom, with a sheik or a robber baron eager to divest some poor town of its treasures for a short gain. Or worse. I know of the groups that operate maliciously and reap their rewards from war and hardship, pillaging..." He trails off, his eyes narrowing and flaring a brilliant ice blue, something so intensely painful to look upon under the right light. Clearly he has a hell of an opinion on that. "Another reason I work directly with appraisers and a conscionable country. There's blood enough in the world we live in. I have no need to contribute to it, especially for matters like this. There is simply just wrong with it."

A master of evasiveness the Prince of Air and Darkness may be, but neither is he particularly given to outright mincing words. "An unusual upbringing? Now you've pricked my curiosity. If I may be so bold to ask, Ms. Cassidy? Now you have me in the mind of a young lady in dirty pants hacking through the depths of the Congo, accompanying a parent trying to detect where a GPS signal is coming from and uncovering a lost city. Pure romance and fantasy, no doubt." A harmless rejoinder, because every instinct should be screaming at the top of its lungs, hair rising on the back of the neck, and shivering to the turn of the tide in that liquid silken voice. "As I am that particular Morningstar, I can assure you self there's nothing you need to confess. To be sure, many of the collared fellows happy to hear that confession might question whether you are deserving of being sectioned, sadly, but such is their lot. They of faith have a troubled relationship, at times. Deliberate, I assure you."

Siryn has posed:
Theresa flinches slightly from that flare. Sure'n didn't he just confirm that, yeah, he's THAT Morningstar. It makes her heart skip about three beats and all that catechism in her childhood makes her have to sit on her hands and not cross herself sitting here. Shite!!

It takes everything she has to go ahead and look up, meet his eyes, and reply with her voice as steady as possible, "Aye, pure romance and fantasy, that. Ye watch too many movies, I'll be thinkin'. No... m'guardian was merely a thief." Terry grins a little. "'Twas all I meant -- I know a little more about the stolen art side of things than perhaps some others in my job. Although perhaps no' t' th' level of 'The Thomas Crown Affair,' if ye've seen tha' one."

Lucifer has posed:
Crossing herself won't do anything. Neither will brandishing a crucifix and telling him the Pope has prepared a stern talking to. Mind you, the Devil in the flesh -- as much as he ever is -- flicks a dark strand of hair out of his eyes, casual as you please, not at all stunned out of existence. Somewhere else, pigeons might fall in the shock of his existence if they saw those wings that are so absent right now.

"A cup of tea now, Ms. Cassidy? We do have proper scones and cream if you need." Her admission for being a thief's ward does not change the tone or element of him either. "The Thomas Crown Affair is a fine one. I'm not one to judge on your upbringing, but shades of fabled art heists are almost expected of anyone coming in to antiquities. Imagine if we were all proper, respectable, and boring. Tsk, no, those are the sociologists."

Siryn has posed:
Theresa squeaks, "Tea would be lovely." Then she clears her throat. "Right then. So we're on th' same page -- I'll be lookin' fer antiquities tha' might catch yer eye, but no' th' stolen ones tha' might be used t' fund those bastards in th' Middle East or wherever. Aye?"

Lucifer has posed:
"Indeed. No need to fund those pernicious individuals who have what's coming to them through other means. Preferably a cessation of regular payments." Lucifer makes that sound so very, very banal. So very unimpressive, really. He casts a faint smile into the air, as it were. "Does this meet with your requirements? Is there anything I haven't covered? With some success, I should like to increase on the business between us. Nothing overly burdensome, of course, and I recognize you have other clients. I, though, do have a business to decorate and probably some other acquisitions to make now and then." Because isn't hell full to the brim of dreary sights, and maybe all he wants is a nice equestrian statue now and then.

Siryn has posed:
"I... would be..." Honored? Flattered? Happy? "It will be an interesting relationship," Theresa finally settles on. Once she manages to wrap her brain around it. "I'm looking forward t' it. I think." She grins rather cheekily, because if one cannot bring a little cheek to the situation then one is NOT going to hold their own with Lucifer. "No' many people get t' stick Lucifer Morningstar in their portfolio. So... Thank ye, sir. I'm relishing th' opportunity ye've given me."

Lucifer has posed:
"Delightful. Thank you for considering the arrangement and I'll have the paperwork sent back over to your firm for those interminably long waits and sheets covered in a thousand disclaimers." No doubt if there's anyone who has no patience with a bureaucratic approach, it's him. The city offices for permitting and the fire marshal have every idea, no doubt. He cannot help but to chuckle, rising from his seat as he does so. It's tucked back in a moment later. "Very good then. I think this shall be fruitful. And let me be clear, Ms. Cassidy, I take your success and comfort very seriously. Should anyone cause you trouble, please do not hesitate to inform me. I shan't look badly on you for being honest about the difficulties, if any, encountered. We know perfectly well that some individuals are... unresponsive, for various reasons. I have no patience for prejudice or the basis of bias, gender or otherwise. You will find me responsive and willing to aid where I can." Is he an equal rights activist? Well, consider the story of the Fall. "Do enjoy Lux as you like. I'll let Mazikeen know you are an associate of mine, in case there's anything you need. Now may I bid you good day?"