11-01-2020, 09:25 PM
Zhenya pulled the man she had claimed into their midst, and he didn’t resist the current. Natalie’s inspection was not circumspect, and certainly not shy in its lazy roam. He assessed her in turn. But it was Zhenya’s glib attempt to coax for information she answered with a slim, half-amused smile. “I think you would not find the story to your liking,” she said with a dismissive tip of her shoulder in the woman’s direction. Natalie didn’t know what she might know or suspect, and she didn’t much care either. Confirmation or denial rarely left her lips, whatever the rumour or lack thereof.
She reached instead to accept the offered handshake, swapping her name for one she did not recognise in turn. The crispness of Adrian’s accent had all the hallmarks of public schooling; familiar in a not altogether welcome way. Natalie hadn’t called London home for years, and before that she’d been hard off the rails. She wondered if her father might have recognised the name, a consideration that did not exactly endear for its possibility, even if unlikely. Five years ago Kane was probably still climbing the ladder of his success. And a past associate of Alistair Grey was unlikely to take kindly to the reminder of his daughter’s pale-eyed stare. Besides, nothing in Adrian Kane’s manner suggested such sharp barbs twisted underneath.
Beside them Zhenya still gleamed faintly, but though Natalie did glance at the threads she did not turn to discover what new mischief earned her attention. The power seemed in constant, gentle flux around her, the threads small, precise, and surprisingly multitudinous. “A shame,” she laughed. “But you are probably right. I imagine it to be dreary beyond the Custody’s territories, no?”
Natalie said nothing to that. Folded her reaction away quietly into a disaffected smirk, though she was pained not to roll her eyes. She didn’t want to discuss the road that led her here, and certainly didn’t wish to delve into Custody loyalties or the politics of an imminent new dominance. Likely Zhenya was referencing Africa anyway. The Legion still battled the unrest there, and the CEO of a security company might have some passing interest given Brandon’s new connections with Jacques Danjou.
“You asked what I was doing here,” she said instead, foregoing the meandering niceties. Da Capo. From the beginning. Building foundations was unlikely to be so quick or easy, nor did she expect it to be. She'd play the games she needed to. When she chose to. “The answer is investment. Of sorts, anyway.”
She reached instead to accept the offered handshake, swapping her name for one she did not recognise in turn. The crispness of Adrian’s accent had all the hallmarks of public schooling; familiar in a not altogether welcome way. Natalie hadn’t called London home for years, and before that she’d been hard off the rails. She wondered if her father might have recognised the name, a consideration that did not exactly endear for its possibility, even if unlikely. Five years ago Kane was probably still climbing the ladder of his success. And a past associate of Alistair Grey was unlikely to take kindly to the reminder of his daughter’s pale-eyed stare. Besides, nothing in Adrian Kane’s manner suggested such sharp barbs twisted underneath.
Beside them Zhenya still gleamed faintly, but though Natalie did glance at the threads she did not turn to discover what new mischief earned her attention. The power seemed in constant, gentle flux around her, the threads small, precise, and surprisingly multitudinous. “A shame,” she laughed. “But you are probably right. I imagine it to be dreary beyond the Custody’s territories, no?”
Natalie said nothing to that. Folded her reaction away quietly into a disaffected smirk, though she was pained not to roll her eyes. She didn’t want to discuss the road that led her here, and certainly didn’t wish to delve into Custody loyalties or the politics of an imminent new dominance. Likely Zhenya was referencing Africa anyway. The Legion still battled the unrest there, and the CEO of a security company might have some passing interest given Brandon’s new connections with Jacques Danjou.
“You asked what I was doing here,” she said instead, foregoing the meandering niceties. Da Capo. From the beginning. Building foundations was unlikely to be so quick or easy, nor did she expect it to be. She'd play the games she needed to. When she chose to. “The answer is investment. Of sorts, anyway.”