Neutral Omens

He was halfway up the stairs to his room when he heard the front desk bell. Sighing, Adam turned around and headed back down. What was that phrase people used? Oh yes, no rest for the wicked.

Smiling at the thought, he came face-to-face with the filthy man standing at the desk.

"Marquis," he said. "You sure got here quick. I'm Adam. Nice to meet you."

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The marquis de Carabas stepped away from the wall and bowed. "The pleasure's mine," he said, teeth and eyes startlingly bright when he grinned. "Thank you for offering me sanctuary. I'll do my best to fulfill whatever duties you require."

The last bit came out sounding a little sardonic, though he certainly didn't mean it to. Habit, he supposed, and hoped that the boy wasn't offended.

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"You're welcome," said Adam politely, stifling a grin. The man was startlingly easy to read, which was a refreshing change after all the immortals around.

"Your duties will involve workin' at the front desk here. We don't get a lot of folks comin' in, but somebody's gotta be here when they ring the bell like you just did. And you like to talk to people, and are charmin' and stuff, so I think you'll do a good job."

He waved an encompassing hand. "Well, welcome to the Manor. I hope you like it. I know it's nothin' like you're used to, but hopefully you won't mind too much. Would you like me to show you around or would you like to get settled into your room first?"

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"It's nothing like I'm used to," de Carabas agreed dryly. It was much nicer, in fact. "I doubt I'm going to complain. And I'm perfectly willing to charm any guests we may get."

He spread his arms wide, indicating a total lack of personal belongings. "I have nothing to put away," he said. "I'd like a tour, in fact. My duties..."--he grinned. The idea of working the front desk amused him.--"will be easier to perform if I'm familiar with the Manor."

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Adam blinked. Not a single person, being, or personification that he'd offered the tour to had ever taken him up on it. Then a slow grin spread across his face.

"Right then. Let's go this way first."

As Adam headed past the lobby, he snuck a look at the Christmas tree. What he saw made him very happy indeed. It wasn't perhaps the most beautiful tree in the world, but it was the most meaningful and he vowed to take a closer look later. Especially at the gifts which littered the base.

He led the marquis to the restaurant first.

"This is our restaurant," he explained. "Our maitre'd is Mr. Wednesday. He may be here somewhere..."

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The marquis looked around as he followed Adam, mentally collecting the layout of the Manor. The lobby with its unique Christmas tree (he put a hand in his coat pocket for a moment, and made a mental note to come back later), the hall, and their first stop, the restaurant.

"Are your staff and guests used to being displayed on these tours?" de Carabas asked.

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"No," said Adam smiling. "But I'm sure they'll be glad to meet their new co-worker."

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So far Wednesday liked his job, mostly because, (so far) he hadn't really needed to do anything at all. It gave him plenty of time to think up new scams and remember. Thank gods he still had his ravens.*
He was indulging in a glass of Jack and cheating at a game of solitaire when the kid walked in, a grungy looking man in tow.
*Great, another one.* He thought to himself. Probably some Christian demon or something. He'd seen enough running around. (To be honest, He was just waiting for the right time to start cheating them out of money, or just cheating them in general). The man, though, looked familiar on second glance. Wednesday, (never one to worry about 'polite' behaviour) was staring, trying to peer beneath layers of dirt and get a feel for the newcomer.
As the pair walked further into the room a mental puzzle piece fell into place. He stood and looked imperiously at the other man. "I know you."

*Odin's two ravens are thought and memory.

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The marquis looked surprised. The surprised look quickly turned into a grin, and he half-bowed in Wednesday's direction.

"I wasn't expecting to see you," he said, "though I suppose not many people in this world would go by the name Mister Wednesday."

His grin turned sardonic, and he swept his gaze across the restaurant, as if assessing it. "Maitre'd of a restaurant, All-Father? But this place does seem to attract interesting people."

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Wednesday rolled his eye. "You're telling me. But, when worse comes to worst even *I* have to find gainful employment." He glanced at Adam. (He still wasn't sure what to think about the kid.)
He grinned and patted the Marquis gruffly on the shoulder (he would have given a hug, but, silk... you understand). I never would have figured you to leave London Below. They finally kick you're sorry, favor-owing, arse out?"

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The marquis smiled wryly, glancing up at Wednesday (the god had over a half-foot on him in height). "If I owed enough favours to get kicked out, I'd hate to think of all the ones who still owe me," he said.

He shook his head. "No, I came seeking protection. Two old enemies are back in the area, and I'm... not much good against him." He didn't seem happy to admit to such a thing.

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"Well, you're safe now," interrupted Adam. "And I'm glad to see that you already know someone here. That helps. It seems to happen a lot 'round this place."

He winked at the marquis.

"Would you like to stay and chat or see more of the Manor?"

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The marquis flashed a smile at Adam which, after a moment, turned rather... thoughtful. "I should stay, I think. I have something of importance to talk to Mister Wednesday about. I can look around on my own later, if it's all the same to you."

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Wednesday's eyebrow arched imperceptibly, but smiled. Birds of a feather, and all that.
"I'd be happy to show you around the manor, de Carabas*."
He turned to look down at Adam. Something had been bothering him ever since arriving, and he intended to take it up with the... boy. "Perhaps I can talk to you later, kid?" He tried to make it *not* sound like a request. He was a god. Gods didn't make requests. But somehow it still came out sounding... well... un-god-like and request-y. Damn. He turned back to de Carabas quickly.

"Would you like to see the bar, first, Marquis?"

*what would wednesday call the marquis?

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"Sure thing," he replied to them both.

"I'm glad to talk to you anytime, Mr. Wednesday. Just come and find me. Marquis, if you need anythin' else, I'll be around."

Adam turned to leave but appeared to remember something and spun back.

"Oh, Marquis? While not every beautiful woman is a Hunter, the ones around here are, so be careful."

Then he left.

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De Carabas grinned. "The bar sounds wonderful. Will we be having drinks, as well?"

Then Adam made his comment, and his eyes widened slightly. He may have paled, but it was impossible to tell. He turned to glance sharply at Adam, but the boy was already gone.

When he turned back to Wednesday, it was a wry grin, as he had quickly pulled himself together. "Does he do that sort of thing often?" he asked.

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Wednesday grunted. "Far too often." For a moment he looked away, and muttered under his breath. "Fucking Christians. Why can't they just stay in Bethleham where they belong?" (Which had been a frequent curse for him since 995 AD when that damned upstart King Olav came to power).
Wednesday got knocked out of his reverie when the Marquis shifted at his side, (caught up in his own thoughts, apparently). Wednesday, ever practical, slapped a hand to the marquis shoulder,( nearly knocking him over), and cleared his throat. "Well, shall we?" and he lead the marquis in the direction of the bar.

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The marquis caught his balance and followed the god. When they'd reached the bar, he slid easily onto a stool, leaning forward on the counter to smile at Wednesday. "So, how is the Manor treating you? From the tree I can guess that there are interesting people in residence..."

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Wednesday snorted. "Yeah, you could say that." He reached behind the bar and grabbed a couple of glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels. He quirked his eyes at the Marquis in the universal *will this work for you* expression while he poured them both a drink. (He ususally didn't wait for an answer) He scrawled something on the bartop and ice appeared in their glasses. "Quite the madhouse. Angels, demons, wizards. And don't forget the anti-christ... still he's preferable to the alternative." He smiled at the marquis rougishly. "I'll have to tell you some stories about it. Makes London Below look slightly less bizarre in comparison." He took a long drink, ice clinking in the bottom of the glass. "Of course, London Below has a lot more of... my kind of people." He smirked. "What about you? Its not like you to up and leave such a ripe threshing ground."

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"Ripe threshing ground it may be, but the Underground has become a bit too... treacherous, for my tastes." The marquis sipped at his drink, waving the hand not holding the glass as if to illustrate a point. "Have you ever heard of two fellows by the name of Croup and Vandemar?" He said the names distastefully, as if it left a residue in his mouth.

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"Hmmm. I've known a lot of names in my time. I may have heard of them... but I'd have to consult Muninn." He looked contemplative. "So you've gotten yourself into a sticky situation, eh? I know how that is." (His mind stretched to why *he* was in the manor in the first place) His glance was dark as he looked at the marquis. "And I also know that it helps to have allies." He sipped his drink, a hand running over his tie-tack.

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"Allies..." The marquis sounded thoughtful. He nodded slightly, and flashed Wednesday a slightly distracted grin. "I have something to ask of you, All-Father. Of course, I will owe you a very, very big favour."

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Wednesday looked thoughful. "A favor, eh? You should know, Marquis, that I usually don't deal in favors. Favors are a very... fluid commodity." His eye glinted in the dark bar. "You have no idea how many owed favors I've managed to get out of." He smiled tightly as he sized de Carabas up with stone cold grey eyes. After a long scrutiny, he apparently found that marquis adequate. "I miss the barter system," Wednesday said nonchalantly, as though he were changing the subject. "How about we make a trade? It could be a... simultaneous favor exchange, if that makes you feel better." He took the tree-shaped pin out of his tie and rolled it around in his hand. "Being in this place is like staring at the moon too long. I can feel myself disappearing in the light. Surrounded by non-beleivers. I will not allow myself to drown in a bottle, and I don't want to be a fucking maitre'd." The room got suddenly still as he sat up, shoulders squared. "I need to make trouble- to feel alive again. And, I need a partner, de Carabas." He fixed the marquis with his eyes. "Perhaps we can see if these two favors balance."

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The marquis looked at the god steadily. Mister Wednesday... Odin, the All-Father, once the most powerful of his kind. He smirked, suddenly, and nodded.

"Being a partner to one such as yourself will be a quite adequate trade," he said, "for what I would ask of you."

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Wednesday grinned. His voice, when he spoke, was thunderous. "Good. So, what is your favor?"

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The marquis hesitated just a moment, then reaching into one of the pockets of his coat. He pulled out a gleaming, intricately decorated silver box, and met Wednesday's eyes with a serious look.

"This," de Carabas said simply.

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Wednesday's eyebrows arched. He looked at the Marquis. He drew a rune on the tabletop, and the rest of the room seemed to fade into a mist. His voice was practically subsonic. "Is what I think it is?"

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"It is," de Carabas agreed, his own voice quiet. "You understand that I can't simply keep carrying it around on my person. It isn't that I don't trust Adam Young, but I have had to use this quite recently..."

He hesitated almost imperceptibly, then reached up and pulled down the cloth around his neck slightly, revealing a scar across his throat.

"I'd feel safer having the option open," he concluded after a moment, pulling the ascot back up to cover the scar once more.

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Wednesday was surprised, and quite frankly a little unnerved, but the only outward appearance of it was a slight widening of his eyes. It took quite an ordeal to leave a mark on a rejuvinated body. He was both curious and appaled at the force this Croup and Vandemar had exerised on his friend. He would have more questions later, but now was not the time. With determination he took his grey sportcoat off and layed it over the top of the bar, then rolled up the crisp white sleeve of his shirt. Taking the backing off of the world-tree tie pin, he etched a mark into his wrist, dark red blood pooling in a wide sideways V.
"I'd offer to heal your throat, but some scars are better kept... and now, I offer you a new one."
His eyebrows raised. "I leave the option open to you."

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This time, the marquis's eyes widened. Looking at the bloody mark on Wednesday's wrist, he slowly shook his head. "No..." de Carabas said, "you're right, of course. I will keep my scars, for now." He smiled, then, and it was one of his more true smiles. "Thank you for offering, Wednesday. I do appreciate the gesture."

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Wednesday licked his thumb and rubbed it over the mark, leaving untouched skin in its wake. "Well both offers stand open to you. But I do insist on some sort of bind. I was hoping the blood would save me from drinking anymore diabetic piss, but I suppose kinship is not for everyone. It leaves up the mead." He waved his hand over the bartop and six glasses of yellowish liquid appeared. "You understand, I'm a creature of tradition." He winked at the Marquis and thrust a glass into the man's hand, taking on himself. "To our respective tasks." He tinked his glass against the other and swallowed it in one gulp. "Jesus bloody Christ it gets worse every time."

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The marquis raised an eyebrow at the liquid, then closed his eyes and downed it.

Now, the marquis de Carabas had eaten and drunk many things, quite a few of them horrible. But then, the same could be said for the All-Father, of course, and he wasn't very happy about the drinks himself.

De Carabas began coughing, eyes watering slightly. When he calmed some, he took a deep breath, giving Wednesday a look of amazement. "I was going to express my trust by not asking, but what is that?"

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"Diabetic Goat Piss, also known as honey wine," Wednesday said as he downed the next glass. "Quite a favorite with the people who once worshiped me. Never could stand it myself. Thank *me* my people got over to American on the first wave and cultivated more discerning tastes." he grimaced. "But it would be a sorry statement if I didn't at least adhere to tradition on momentus occaisions."

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The marquis nodded in acknowledgement and downed his next glass, then the third. He barely coughed after the second, and third only earned a grimace before he gave Wednesday a wry smile. "The alternatives must have been abominable for your worshippers to enjoy this."

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Wednesday shook his head. "No, you see thats the thing. They *liked* the stuff. And they didn't mind throwing themselves onto burning pyres, or jumping into freezing water. Masochists, all of them." He smirked. "Don't get me wrong, I approved of it, but the Aesir never really dealt with humans too much. You know, other then to mess them about." He looked meaningfully at the six empty glasses. "Well, thats it, then. It is sealed."

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The marquis bowed his head. "Indeed. Whatever you need me for, Wednesday, you need only request." He set the silver box on the counter, pushed it across to Wednesday. "You will, of course, know what to do with it if the time comes."

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"Of course." Wednesday took the box gently in his hand and made a design on the lid. Suddenly the box wasn't there anymore. "As for your end of the bargain, I'll be contacting you soon." He leered. "Nothing says Merry Christmas like a nice bit of deception." He stood and straightened his suit. "I wish you good night, Marquis. I'm glad that you're here."

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