[Sodium_noir] Hell is other people

[Colette Coeur]

Spikey <spikey at khaoshq.fsnet.co.uk> wrote:          The Sinclair Mansion

>>"Good ... Good evening." Ettienne stammers. Interrupting one man's story without even looking at the mortal. "Might I drag you away for a moment?" 

The crowd backs away, finds something else to do. Some of them get their coats and leave without ever really knowing why.<<

Sugar jumped as the crowd around her was spooked by Ettienne's mere arrival.  She felt the air charge with the sort of electricity that formed right before a storm broke. The anger that had been building in her stomach melted as Ettienne tripped on his words.  

A sigh escaped her dewy lips as she looked upwards at him.  Ettienne was such a dapper creature and she couldn't help but bite her lip as her body began to follow him.   It was hard to resist the urge to slap him across the face, or kiss him.  Here he stood our more than ever, a man truly in his own element. 

 Over her shoulder she shot a look to Montoya, knowing full well he'd hate her pulling Ettienne from his boring drivel. Men with heads only for business were about as exciting to Sugar as a lectures on morality


Hiding the turmoil that raged beneath the surface, Sugar smiled lightly and made the move to play innocent.  With her little entourage scattered to the wind, Sugar linked her arm into Ettienne's and let her eyes scan his pale face. 

"Of course Ettienne."  She replied with concern wavering in her dusky voice.   "You sound like something is on your mind..."

"How very astute of you my dearest Muse!" Ettienne replies with a smirk, seeming to find his usual suave manners again once Sugar is on his arm. "Something is indeed on my mind, or someone to be precise. Someone is all I have on my mind from Dusk until Dawn, and even while I sleep. Someone's exquisite face haunts me when I ought to be conducting my business, memories of her dark tresses bind me like chains when I ought to be Master of my domain!"
   
  Having led Sugar to a doorway,and the balcony beyond, Ettienne pauses and turns Sugar towards him.
   
  "I am sure it will please you to know that I have thought of nothing else except you these past few nights. Nights that have dragged like eons without you to fill them my sweet!"


  -------------------
  Hiram rolled around the spacious ground floor of the palatial mansion. The 
zero-motor in his chair was doing all the work since he had a glass of 
champagne in one hand, but he kept the other hand on one of the large, 
spoked wheels to maintain an illusion of proper movement. He knew that the 
world was not yet ready to be reintroduced to the ancient secrets he based 
his work on, and things had a way of snapping back at him if he didn't act 
subtly.

He suddenly spotted Charles Grey, the museum's general manager, standing 
near a large, gaudy, indoor waterfall. He was talking with the mayor, and 
another man that Hiram thought he recognized, but didn't know from where.

He casually rolled toward them. Let the schoozing begin, he thought.

"Charles," he said as he approached, wearing a smile. "I see you've already 
found the most interesting conversation in the room," he chided as he took 
a sip of his champagne.

The man Charles and the mayor were talking with went silent, as though 
something was suddenly bothering him.

As the conversation progressed Hiram noticed a striking exotic woman weave 
through the crowd toward him, her eyes focused. Hiram always got a bit 
uncomfortable when people he didn't know obviously knew him.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said after draining his glass in one gulp, "I 
believe I need a refill."
   
  "Ah Hiram ... there's a man I thought you .... " But Charles already knew he had lost the professors attention. "Blast him! Great mind you understand, simply first rate, but no head for business. He really has to be forced to play nice with potential investors and the like."
   
  "Each to their own abilities!" The Mayor nodded knowingly. "With a keen mind like yours behind him Charles I am sure the Professor will continue to attract the necessary funds for the Museum. Perhaps I can introduce you both to some rather wealthy friends of mine later on, I believe their company is looking to invest further in deserving projects such as Gotham's Egyptian Wing!"
  
Hiram broke away from the conversation and rolled toward the woman, meeting 
her half-way.

"Hello," he said, stopping in her path...

   
  
-------------------
The trip to the Sinclair party was short.  They parked
half a block away and took a moment to watch people
going in and out.

John removed a whistle from his pockets and gave two
sharp, short blows.  After a moment a large black crow
with white markings on its chest (an eye) came to
perch on his outstretch arm.

"Everyone, this is Bob.  Bob, this is everyone."  The
bird seemed to bow his head a cawed several times in
greeting.  It showed absolutely no fear to Abby, and
almost seemed oblivious to her presence.

Selenas eyes get even bigger at this.  Shelli seems entranced.

Abby smiles gently, “Hi Bob.”

"Stay close to the party, and patrol the nearby areas
maybe once an hour.  I'll whistle if I need you.  If
you don't hear from me by sunrise, return to the
store."

The bird gave a sharp caw, indicating it understood,
and launched into the air.  In seconds it was gone.

"Shall we?"

Selena nervously takes Matt’s arm, looking back the way the bird went.
  
Shelli takes John’s right arm, Abby the left.
  
She is concerned about her two friends. They are both survivors, but she doubts they’ve run across of what she expects to find here. She looks at John sidelong; thinking about him and his friend. They could take care of themselves, of that she was certain. Nothing whispered in her heart of danger. Not yet at any rate. Too late, anyway. Besides, Secrets beckoned to her, she just had to find them. 
   
  Together they walk to the entrance.  With a lovely
lady on each arm, John walks up the steps and head
straights for the entrance.  He does not look at the
doorman, nor make any indication that he's going to
stop.

The doorman is little people, and one does not stop
for little people.

  Inside the grand mansion of the Sinclair dynasty their breath is taken away. As opulent as any Pharaoh's throne room and just as busy. This is a house of grandeur, designed to display the wealth and power of its owners. Sweeping staircases and crystal chandeliers glitter from Art deco mirrors and in Gold flecked marble. 
   
  The rich and well connected of Gotham rub shoulders with local celebrities and trophy wives. One well placed bomb in this room alone would leave the city without a single member of Congress. 
   
  A well dressed man, perhaps the wrong side of fifty, spots Abbey and blushes visibly. In the moment it takes for him to turn his head and shuffle towards another room she recognises him from the circuit. He'd tipped her enough to catch up on the rent she remembered.
   
  She gives him a brief but smokey look, no point irritating him. Let him remember her in this elegant old dress, thin and clingy with nothing on beneath it. He'd be back for more...
   
  "I'll bet none of these kings ever Dreamed of seven lean calves!" Matt says in awe.
   
  "And I don't see no Joseph about to interpret any such dreams here either." Abby really HAD listened in Parochial School, despite what the bit...Sisters thought.
   
   
   
   
  [Tag 'em all and let God sort it out!]
   
  [OOC - Kudos point for spotting the Biblical reference?]
   
  [OOC- heehee, I know way more about the Bible than I should]
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