neutral_omens | (no subject)

Date: December 12, 1999
Status: Public
Setting: The Lobby
Summary: De Carabas arrives at the Manor

When the marquis blinked, he was in a lobby.

He blinked again, just at the strange sensation, then smiled. Door had done as he'd asked, after all. All of their debts were cleared. Nothing tied him to London Below any more... at least, nothing important. He looked around in interest at the nice room, amused when he considered how he must look: dirty Victorian garb, a ragged piece of cloth around his throat, frock coat still slightly unrecovered from its adventures among the Sewer Folk. He hadn't bathed recently, either; that was something he'd gotten used to, but knew others might find abhorrent. Especially having come from London Below, where it would really be prudent to bathe once a day, at least.

De Carabas walked up to the reception desk, ringing the small bell sitting there. He smiled, moving back to lean against the wall, relaxing against it. His eyes darted around the room, white in a dark face.

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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."

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?"

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.

"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?"

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."

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?

"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.

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.

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.

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..."

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."

"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.

"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.

"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."