6618/Do you like Robots

Do you like Robots
Date of Scene:	22 February 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Logan sorta recruits Sable to do stuff.
Cast of Characters:	Silver Sable, Wolverine

---

Silver Sable has posed:
Sable International doesn't advertise a lot. No informericals or late-night spot ads. Many walk past the Westgate Plaza tower with no idea that the international corporation has a full three floors leased for long-term occupation.

Of course no one would call them mercenaries. Private military contractors, or security consultants is the preferred PC term. But they are what they are and it's quietly made them one of the largst corporate presences in the world.

Logan's brought into the managerial area by a pleasantly polite secretary in low flats and a skirtsuit. There are no armed guards; everyone carries a visible weapon. Those who don't, like the secretary, move with the subtle confidence of someone with a lot of personal physical power.

"Right through here, Mr. Logan," the secretary says. She bids Logan pause and walks into an office suite, closing the door behind her. There's a moment of silence-- the doors are soundproofed-- and then she emerges and holds the door for him. "Miss Sablinova will see you now," she says, and waves in him.

Silver's corner office is decorated in soothing shades of cream, gold, and tan. It's all very sleek and minimalist with a little touch of color here and there in the form of tasteful military decor. Silver's desk sits in the center of the room backed up to a large floor to ceiling window. Her desk is a sweeping, curved piece of dark mahongany with a similar minimalist aesthetic. No decoration aside from a notepad, a few office supplies, and a sleekly low-profile computer screen angled so it can only be seen from her chair.

Silver looks up and a small smile crosses her angular features. "Old Man," she teases him fondly, and gets to her feet. The secretary's waved off and she walks around the desk to exchange a handshake and a hug with Logan. She wears a sleek grey suit, tapered to her frame with close-fitting trousers and three-quarter sleeves. The outfit gives her a slightly more masculine appearance despite flattering her physique. "Come in, have a seat. No, over here," she says, gesturing to a nearby antechamber. It proves to have a pair of chairs facing a small couch and is much more warmly decorated, with heavy wood shelves, dark green carpet and a multitude of pictures and what look like mementos (or war trophies). "Can I get you a drink? Bourbon, yes?" she offers, drifting towards a globe-shaped service cart that holds liquor inside.

Wolverine has posed:
    The security systems in Sable International probably had the man flagged as soon as he stepped through the doors. The body scans, the resonance imaging, the facial recognition assuredly all gathered intel almost instantly and broadcast it to the skilled operatives manning the seemingly so normal office.

    If his intentions had been malicious, or if they hadn't had a record of him on file they likely would have snapped into action almost instantly. But as it is he's brought in, greeted by the secretary, and shown in to that staggeringly minimalist office.
    Against the elegance and compared to the woman he's greeting, Logan stands out. An errant note in a clean symphony. She is immaculate precision, and he is rough and weathered. The blue jeans, the grey pea coat, those brown work boots, go together to create an image of a man more at home in the wild than in such metal and glass surroundings.
    "Sable," He greets her with a wry half-smile yet moves in the direction she indicates. Stepping ahead of her and onto that couch, though he draws himself up a touch to sit on its edge. She makes the offer of a drink and he'll give a nod, "Sure."
    And should she move to fill his request he'll take some time to consider his surroundings, one eyebrow quirking curiously.

Silver Sable has posed:
The offices are a lot like Silver herself. The detached lines between her professional life and her personal life. One politely chique, the other crammed full of old memories and clearly rarely shared with guests. She pours Logan a drink (giving him a speculative look to inquire if he wants ice) and then pours herself a measure of vodka over ice and squeezes some lime into it.

"Egeszeedre," she tells Logan. A common Hungarian salute and she lifts her glass to toast him. Silver finds a seat opposite and settles into it, crossing her legs at the knee and resting her ribs against the seatback. "I was a little surprised to see you turn up so suddenly," she tells him in her heavy Eastern European accent. "It's been some time since I saw you. Are you living in New York, now?"

Wolverine has posed:
    "Koszonom."
    There's that clink of glass upon glass and the two drink. He takes a moment to look at the glass with one eye a touch wider than the other, then looks back at her, impressed by her choice in drink. He then lowers the glass to be held in both hands as he remains on the edge of his seat, forearms resting on his knees.
    "Around about. Upstate." He answers as to where he's living, even tossing his head slightly in the general direction of North. "Seems like yer doin' well." An understatement.
    "Last time was..." He tilts his head to the side slightly, as if searching for an answer. "The Underground." The fights, the human trafficking, matters that brought the two together and unified their purpose.
    Another glance at their surroundings, perhaps some part of him trying to combine the woman he knew during those rough times, and reconcile her with the image of immaculate precision and control before him now. "You clean up well." A smirk, "Comparitively, I reckon." Since the last time had been... not the best time for either of them.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver's eyes flicker at the 'north'. Mercenary or not, Sable International has some of the best human intel in the business. But it's hard to say, even for Logan, if that's recognition or just acknowledgement.

"Helps to have hot showers and clean clothes," she says wryly. "Not bathing with wet wipes and a cold barracks shower once a week. And you look..." she fishes for the word. "Comfortable." It's accurate enough, and her lips quirk in a suggestion of a smile. "I'm glad to see you moved back to more familiar ground. Eastern Europe didn't seem to agree with you. You're from New York, aren't you? Or this region, anyway?" she hazards, trying to recall.

Wolverine has posed:
    "Now if I tell ya that," Logan's blue eyes glimmer with a touch of amusement, "What would all yer analysts have ta do after I leave?" But he takes another sip of his drink and in so doing also borrows an extra moment to appreciate it with a small nod.
    Eyes returning to hers he murmurs, "But m'afraid this ain't exactly a social call." That having been said he leans to the side to place the glass light upon a suitable coaster resting on an end table. He leans back then, crossing one boot over his knee and meeting her gaze. "I was thinkin' of seein' if I could get your help on somethin'." A beat, then he adds, "The Sentinels that have been popping up in the news lately."

Silver Sable has posed:
"Mmm," Silver says, and examines Logan with an inscrutable expression. "I'm assuming that this is less a 'I'm here to hire you' and more a 'will you do me a favor' sort of visit?" she inquires, wryly. "Unless you've got a few hundred thousand dollars in your pocket, anyway. The Sentinels are on our radar," she assurs Logan, with an uplifted finger from her lowball glass. Ice clinks with the motion. "We've been proactively strategizing how to deal with them if an erratic unit approaches us or interferes with a mission. That said..." She sips her drink. "I'm not eager to jeapordize a contract with the United States. My own intel groups suggest that the Sentinels might have government funding. Or someone well connected to the state department." She rises and moves to a desktop computer in the corner, tapping on the keyboard and reading what scrolls past. "They're keeping things fairly close to the vest, but our other intelligence suggests that there may be a production plant somewhere in Hungary or Romania. Maybe even Latveria. It's the sort of thing Doom would do," she says with a muttered intolerance.

Wolverine has posed:
    Scritching his cheek with a fingertip, Logan seems thoughtful for a moment even as he considers the distance beyond Sable's shoulder. But then he looks back towards her pale eyes and gives a nod. "Not necessarily just a favor. If you had some angles to operate from then could figure somethin' out."
    He folds his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head, "We heard about the possible Eastern European link, but don't have much more."
    Another breath is taken as he considers matters then he adds, "But if you had a lead on some of the technology they're usin' in 'em, then might be able to throw some coin together ta pay yer fee."
    Then there's a smirk, "Or could be an exchange of services. Could give yer team some pointers on how best to not get their butts handed to 'em. Heck, might even be able to show you a thing or two." Perhaps an old point of contention from the old days.

Silver Sable has posed:
"Tempting offer," Silver tells Logan. She closes the PC with a tap of her fingers. "Learning how to fight from an undying man with a time-proven strategy of 'I'll soak up the bullets' seems like a losing proposition for my people."

She smirks at the sallie at Logan's expense and reassumes her seat. "I'll make you a deal, though," Silver suggests. She collects her drink and takes a sip. "I can't put my people at risk. If you need backup, I'll go with you personally. Make sure you don't fall in a deep pit and have to risk crawling out of it."

"And it wouldn't kill us to share some pertinent technical specifications. Vulnerabilities we've assessed. You won't have long to use that information," she warns him. "It's been suggested the Sentinels are adaptive and well designed. You'll only exploit so many before one gets a warning off and then they'll adjust the design parameters."

Wolverine has posed:
    He gives breath to a short scoff at her sortie at his own fighting style, turning his gaze away while smirking then shooting a look back at her, sardonic. "Ya know I got other tricks up my sleeve. Sometimes folks even miss when they're shootin' at me." Quite a boast.
    But then he nods and tilts his head to the side, "That's more than I could ask for, Sable. Thanks." He gives a nod, accepting her offer about the help should it be needed for a future operation. It's enough of a resolution for him and acceptable that he reclaims his drink with a faint clink of ice cubes jostling in the glass.
    Before he sips he looks across the way to her, "If we come into any useful data I'll see about sending it yer way." He straightens up a little, "Though depending on where it's acquired from we might need ta make sure it's safe before moving it along."

Silver Sable has posed:
"That's appreciated," Silver says, modestly. "The last thing I need is hostile malware behind the corporate firewall. We take our cybersecurity very seriously."

"So there's a 'we' now?" she inquires of Logan, casually. "You always struck me as more the lone wolf type. I can't imagine you're back to working for the government. Private organization, then? Or have you just leaned fully into this costumed hero business, running around in tights and a mask with a team of well-meaning young people?"

Wolverine has posed:
    The last of the drink is pitched back and one of the ice cubes is taken in between his molars and crunched. He still holds the glass in one hand and lightly shakes it a little, but then looks across the way at her, "Yeah well, when I first ran inta you I couldn't imagine you'd be heading up a corporation quite like this." He spreads his fingers and gestures to the side, indicating the entirety of the building.
    "But m'sure ya take either of us out and give us a good scuffing, the shine'll come right off. Ain't that right?" He rises to his feet and then, perhaps presumptuously, moves over towards the liquor cabinet and will start preparing himself another drink.
    Though, to his credit, he cocks an eyebrow at her as if indicating that he'll freshen up her vodka as well if she's inclined.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver nods and extends her empty glass towards Logan, allowing him to top her off. Hard-nosed nature aside there's a bit of the aristocrat to how the woman moves, particularly in an office like this. In the field, she's the same sour, chew-spitting soldier everyone in uniform's met a hundred times over.

"We both run a bit deeper than some might think, don't we?" she tells Logan, with a cryptic smile. She doesn't confirm or deny Logan's assertion. "I also note you avoided my question rather nicely," she tells him. "Who's this 'we'? If I find our you've got a government spending card in your pocket, I'm going to be very cross about doing you a favor to save Uncle Samuel a few dollars."

Wolverine has posed:
    True, he did try the nimble evasion, but she had honed in on it like a bloodhound and now worries the answer from him. "You wouldn't believe it if I told ya," He refreshes her drink and then sets it in her hand as he passes by on his way towards his seat.
    Retaking it, he'll sit back and tell her, "But suffice it ta say, they're folks who are tryin' ta do what they can to help people. Mutants and humans alike. Not public, not government, but more just like-minded folks."
    There's a pause then as he takes a sip of his drink, still the same amount of ice. Then he adds with a hint of a smirk, "In costumes." Since really, there's no avoiding that.

Silver Sable has posed:
"Naturally, costumes," Silver echoes, nodding. Amusement flickers in her eyes. "Because heaven forbid someone show up to a gunfight in tactical gear and body armor."

She sips her drink again. "You understand my reticence, Logan," she says, more seriously. "I owe you and I will honor that obligation. I can't put my people or the company at risk. Too many livelihoods and lives are at stake if I do, and frankly-- I'm not entirely sure I trust you." She smiles over her raised vodka and sips it. "I'll help you to the best of my ability. I hope you understand that assistance is sincere but it's not limitless."

Wolverine has posed:
    "I understand," Logan says as he gives her a rueful nod, then he adds. "If it was just my own safety I was worryin' about Sable, I'd tell you everythin'. But I can't speak for other folks. At least not in this." He shakes his head and murmurs, "So it's nothin' with you." It's not you it's me.
    That said he takes another drink and holds the glass lightly in one hand, "I came here just lookin' for a possible heads up if you heard somethin'." He lifts a hand to rub at the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully, "Havin' you lend a hand yerself is a pearl beyond price. I won't treat it lightly."
    That said he holds up a hand, "Anyways, that's business." He affixes her with those blue eyes and smirks a bit, "Tell me what all went down after our thing. I mean... member of the nobility." His lips curve downwards as if impressed, "Should I have curtsied when I wandered in?"

Silver Sable has posed:
"It's Symkaria, Logan," Silver explains plaintively. "We're hardly the Romanoffs or the French. Our peerage is fairly small; most of us are from families old enough to be historical footnotes. My grandfather created a stir when he volunteered during the Great War to hunt down Nazi collaborators. My father, too, in his younger years. Of course, that turned into--" she spreads her hands, looking around. "All this. Some of the peerage prefers to sit around drinking champagne and eating lapin by the plate. I would rather be working. Between my family and the baronetcys, I believe House Sable has done more for Symkaria than most of the blue bloods."

Wolverine has posed:
    "So no curtsey. Got it." Logan offers with a small half-smile, though he does seem to look at her anew, as if some of the revelations she offered gave him some insight into her.
    A nod is given as he takes another drink, longer this time, then sets his glass aside softly. "If you need anything, need to get in contact with me, usually I can be reached here." He reaches a rough hand into his pocket and withdraws a small card that he extends towards her.
    On it's surface it says little more than,

    Xavier's School
    For Gifted Youngsters

    Logan
    Physical Education / History

    And following it is the contact information for the school itself.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver accepts the card and examines it carefully, front and back. It's set next to her computer in a deliberate location, to be added later. She retrieves a pen and paper and scratches out a number to hand to Logan in return. "My current number. It changes regularly. If you can't get through to me, call my secretary and she'll forward it. I don't keep cell phones very long. Your CIA is everywhere and listening to everyone," she says wryly.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, my friend? Before you leave?" she offers, moving to collect his glass once it's emptied.

Wolverine has posed:
    A hand lifts, but then it lowers and he says, "Nah." A step back and then he turns, "Thanks fer seein' me, Sable." He starts to walk towards the door, and wouldn't be surprised if the secretary is there almost ready to help see him out.
    He does, however, turn around just before the door and give her a smallw ave. "I'll be in touch soon." And with that he turns back to head on out.