05-20-2014, 03:22 PM
The arrangements had been easy to make, as has the discussion with Seth and Rune. If they were going to strike, it would likely be some time after this meeting. He still wasn't convinced that Jaxen needed to die; the lad was a waste of space and oxygen, but he had yet to see anything of the fellow that marked him as dangerous to those around him. Annoying to those in his strange little world amongst the clouds, perhaps, but not dangerous.
No amount of money could get an expensive suit dry cleaned in a day, and as little as Hood cared about such things, he knew enough not to wear the same suit to meet a rich playboy-wannabe twice in a row. So Mr Talanov's gift was out of the picture. Which was too bad, as it was the best suit he owned.
Luckily, in his line of work...his day job, at least...it was important to have a few good suits, and one was pulled from the closet and cleared of it's suit-bag. A simple charcoal gray hopsack, an inexpensive design at first glance which quickly gave way the actual quality of the work over the plainness of the material. The suit was perfectly tailored to Hood's frame, hinting at the solid build underneath.
The plain fabric did wonders to hide the ballistic weave underneath of course; it was a working man's suit. A working private security specialist's suit, to be exact, which made it a bit on the warm side for most folks, but he had always been good at ignoring the temperature.
His arrival at Manifesto came much like the last time. A Pervaya driver dropped him off, this time in a stylish staff car rather then a limo. Getting inside was easy enough; the coat-of-arms of Pervaya liniya Security on the side of the car was enough to catch the attention of the manager tasked to checking the guest list, and the name drop that Hood offered to excuse his presence, was enough to see him inside without trouble. Jaxen Marveet was well known in such circles, after all.
A brief visit to the bar saw Hood with a dram of whiskey, Dalmore 2014 single malt, to be exact. Near to $3,000 CCD a bottle, that single dram ran him near $200. One sip and he found himself again questioning the need for such expensive tastes.
A few short minutes later and he found his way into Block Two. The place was a sham; any of the appreciable architecture off the once functional structure was gone, hidden beneath expensive lights and decorations, things that really had no place in the old bomb shelter. But the rich fools enjoyed playing pretend.
Much like the last time he had haunted the place, he drew more then a few looks. Men dismissing him as something out of place, trying to convince themselves that he was too far below them to be of any consequence. And women watched him with various degrees of interest; some where unsettled by the intensity of his gaze, while others found it entirely too interesting. An alpha predator in a sea of sheep in wolf's clothing.
It was easy to spot Jaxen in the crowd, even seated; he drew looks of his own, ones of jealousy or carefully considered opportunity. The lad may have been the black sheep of his family, but the Marveet family was powerful enough that even the forlorn son was a viable link to it's power for some.
He walked over, casually shouldering aside two expensively dressed men who had made the mistake of thinking to show their bravado. Even so early in the evening, the two men were buzzing with liquid courage, and while neither were small, neither achieved much to dissuade Hood's momentum. The ease with which he blew past the pair, without so much as shaking his drink, led the two to realize that maybe they were better off chasing skirts rather then fights.
"Mr Marveet. Ladies."
Hood stood across from Jaxen and his arm candy of the evening, easily heard over the thrum of music. In his line of work, a commanding and clear voice was important, and plenty of experience had taught him how to speak to be heard over loud noise and distraction.
A moment was spent admiring the view the two women offered, but neither were able to hold his attention. They were common fare; lacking in the fiery determination and predatory nature of Spectra Lynn. They simply weren't worth his time. But they were, clearly, enough to keep someone like Jaxen entertained. The man had questionable tastes then; that Oriena woman seemed far more interesting then the two he wasted his time with at the moment.
No amount of money could get an expensive suit dry cleaned in a day, and as little as Hood cared about such things, he knew enough not to wear the same suit to meet a rich playboy-wannabe twice in a row. So Mr Talanov's gift was out of the picture. Which was too bad, as it was the best suit he owned.
Luckily, in his line of work...his day job, at least...it was important to have a few good suits, and one was pulled from the closet and cleared of it's suit-bag. A simple charcoal gray hopsack, an inexpensive design at first glance which quickly gave way the actual quality of the work over the plainness of the material. The suit was perfectly tailored to Hood's frame, hinting at the solid build underneath.
The plain fabric did wonders to hide the ballistic weave underneath of course; it was a working man's suit. A working private security specialist's suit, to be exact, which made it a bit on the warm side for most folks, but he had always been good at ignoring the temperature.
His arrival at Manifesto came much like the last time. A Pervaya driver dropped him off, this time in a stylish staff car rather then a limo. Getting inside was easy enough; the coat-of-arms of Pervaya liniya Security on the side of the car was enough to catch the attention of the manager tasked to checking the guest list, and the name drop that Hood offered to excuse his presence, was enough to see him inside without trouble. Jaxen Marveet was well known in such circles, after all.
A brief visit to the bar saw Hood with a dram of whiskey, Dalmore 2014 single malt, to be exact. Near to $3,000 CCD a bottle, that single dram ran him near $200. One sip and he found himself again questioning the need for such expensive tastes.
A few short minutes later and he found his way into Block Two. The place was a sham; any of the appreciable architecture off the once functional structure was gone, hidden beneath expensive lights and decorations, things that really had no place in the old bomb shelter. But the rich fools enjoyed playing pretend.
Much like the last time he had haunted the place, he drew more then a few looks. Men dismissing him as something out of place, trying to convince themselves that he was too far below them to be of any consequence. And women watched him with various degrees of interest; some where unsettled by the intensity of his gaze, while others found it entirely too interesting. An alpha predator in a sea of sheep in wolf's clothing.
It was easy to spot Jaxen in the crowd, even seated; he drew looks of his own, ones of jealousy or carefully considered opportunity. The lad may have been the black sheep of his family, but the Marveet family was powerful enough that even the forlorn son was a viable link to it's power for some.
He walked over, casually shouldering aside two expensively dressed men who had made the mistake of thinking to show their bravado. Even so early in the evening, the two men were buzzing with liquid courage, and while neither were small, neither achieved much to dissuade Hood's momentum. The ease with which he blew past the pair, without so much as shaking his drink, led the two to realize that maybe they were better off chasing skirts rather then fights.
"Mr Marveet. Ladies."
Hood stood across from Jaxen and his arm candy of the evening, easily heard over the thrum of music. In his line of work, a commanding and clear voice was important, and plenty of experience had taught him how to speak to be heard over loud noise and distraction.
A moment was spent admiring the view the two women offered, but neither were able to hold his attention. They were common fare; lacking in the fiery determination and predatory nature of Spectra Lynn. They simply weren't worth his time. But they were, clearly, enough to keep someone like Jaxen entertained. The man had questionable tastes then; that Oriena woman seemed far more interesting then the two he wasted his time with at the moment.