At the pier
"Very good," the gentleman says to the pair. "I will ferry this to Boston -- its owner's anger and pain should have tied it to this object somehow. You did make sure to follow the instructions I provided to the letter, correct?"
"Yeah, we made her drink it first -- but we didn't do the deed. We slipped it to a juicebag she was jiving on," the wiry man says. "She took him in the back -- and we waited. Took too long -- so we went in to find her; someone else had already done the job. I swear; ain't like the Maze down there. At least when you're in there, clientele's respectable -- they don't tend to cut you limb from limb. So we took it."
"Does anyone else know of this transaction," the gentleman asks in a whisper.
"Of course not -- that would be unprofessional," the wiry man responds with a smirk.
"Good," the gentleman sighs with a grin. "Then I suggest you both remain hidden until the remainder of the preparations are complete. Your superiors will pass on further instructions once we have completed our end of the bargain."
At the Maze
*** Horus ***
"Morgan has his own way of doing things, something most New Worlders and Independents would not understand," Hadrian says flatly. "Soemtimes, matters of state must precede pleasurable affairs, Sir Curator. I'm sure that whatever it is must be important; perhaps a previous meeting ran over -- mayhaps the Prince was discussing budgetary matters with some mortal city officials, like funding of the arts or schooling of the Kine children," Hadrian says, and then trails off as he begins peering around the room.
Some ten minutes pass after the arrival of Gerald before the arrival of Prince Morgan, who is accompanied by an unusal attendant -- his Scourge, Rait. The contrast is striking -- Morgan, while an imposing figure, is still dressed sharply, and his little spectacles give him an almost-Roosevelt appearance. While the Scourge is a good foot shorter, part of the difference is posture: Morgan is a straight, proper gentleman, while Rait comes across as much more of a beast -- hunched, or maybe better coiled, and his dress and appearance relays his function: loose, dirty clothing, matted hair, and sharp, piercing eyes.
"Good evening, fellow Kindred," Morgan begins as the room quiets from his entrance. "I apologize for our lateness, but urgent matters arose which required immediate attention. I'm sure all of you have enjoyed yourselves in our absence with such a lovely hostess and establishment as this, though. Please, return to your merriment -- I'll make rounds shortly, and hope to see as many of you as possible this evening."
