05-20-2014, 07:27 PM
Jaxen's time was quite nicely filled with the local entertainment. He was up and down several times since arriving to greet this person or that. As many faces recognized him as he did theirs, although for his part, he was genuinely pleased to see most. Jaxen's history of social mingling was a convoluted and embarrassing one, for everyone else that is. He thoroughly enjoyed getting the better of others. All in good fun, of course.
He largely had zero look-out for his guest. The man would likely be on time. He was representing Pervaya after all, and the assistant that arranged this whole ordeal was rather proud of the company's stance on punctuality. Thus, Jaxen was otherwise well-distracted when his date for the night made himself known.
From hovering over the shoulder of one of the eyecandies, Alexia, the one with darkly arabic features and exotically tipped eyelashes, he casually looked up. "You do clean up well, White."
A compliment, but then again the last time Jaxen saw the man was moments before he was clocked by the side of a rifle. Likewise, Jaxen was probably a few shades better looking - and smelling - himself. Even the great Jaxen could be worn down by a few nights in a cannibal dungeon.
The other eyecandy, the one Jaxen did not have his arm around, but was none the less seated closely, was a red-haired girl with a western accent Jaxen couldn't quite place. The implants looked like a Moscow-surgeon's specialty, however. She curled her hand around Jaxen's arm, which of course made him look over as she whispered a request in his ear, one that lit his expression with surprised interest.
Jax gestured at the free space next to the redhead. "Join us, White. This is Alexia,"
his eyes flicked from one beauty to the other, "and this is,"
and he blinked, "tell me your name again, honey? Ah, yes! Ezinne. Girls, this slice of American before you is-"
and that's when Jaxen caught himself.
"Actually, White, what is your first name?"
He smirked.
The show had begun.
Hood's expression didn't change in the slightest at the whispers and glances, nor did his gaze shift to encompass the space indicated for him to sit. He was there for business, not pleasure or familiar conversation (neither of which he was likely to find anywhere in the presence of Jaxen Marveet), and so he chose to sit instead on the couch most readily adjacent to Jaxen and his friends. "Mister White. Or just Sir. Mr. Marveet."
Pervaya was professional; their men when contracted as bodyguards were not members of the family or loyal pets. Friends and family made mistakes, were blinded to possible dangers. And pets were loyal but stupid. Pervaya's people were the best for a reason, and distance was part of that reason. His tone was not rude or derisive; it was educating and calm. "Miss Alexia. Miss Ezinne."
He nodded to either woman in turn, and as he sat the button of his suit was popped free, to make sure it continued to hang properly and not wrinkle.
A true-blooded boy of Moscow would have taken offense by White's dismissal of tradition. Jaxen was one such true-blooded Moscow boy. He had the accent, the shrewd, suspicious gaze, and the name to go along with their reputation. But somehow, as White sat himself next to Ezinne, who in turn deprived of Jaxen's full attention was going to latch onto the westerner like the true succubus she was, Jax was rather prepared for such a reaction. And he had a few words perched at the tip of the tongue for such an occasion.
He poured the man a vodka and pushed the tiny glass in front of him with a suggestive grin. "A word of advice, White - though I'd think a good Moscow company like Pervaya would include this bulletpoint in their orientation -"
he snapped the lid back on the crystalline bottle of liquor, "Business is not to be had without trust."
The corner of his lip quirked playful, "And Russians do not trust a man who will not drink vodka."
He held White's gaze a moment longer before withdrawing. He knew some of where White drew the line, but Jaxen was only being playful. Mostly. "Why don't you tell us all your name? Besides, Ezinne is dying to know,"
she'd now perched her chin on the back of her hand. The make of White's suit was not lost on her trained eyes. She was a model, after all.
Hood carefully set his glass of expensive scotch down next to the glass of vodka, and picked it up instead. He held the cup out in a toast, "Za vashe zdorovie." Here's to your health. He then tapped the glass on the table top before taking a shallow sip, glancing at the empty table, "Traditionally, vodka was served with a meal. Used to be known as bread wine." Another shallow sip, and the glass was set down next to his scotch, and he settled his gaze on Ezinne for a moment, studying her features before catching her eyes with a hint of a smile, "Well, Miss Ezinne, if you wish to know my first name, you will have to approach me when my business with Mr Marveet is complete." His tone clearly hinted that it was an invitation, although in truth that was mostly just to annoy Jaxen, an idle curiosity to see how easily he could pluck the man's candy from his bowl.
Jaxen lifted his glass to return the favor. A slick grin split his face. White's Russian was perfect. "Tvoye zdorovye!"
and tipped half the glass back. It was poor taste to drink to the bottom all at once. Especially when a series of at least four more toasts were to follow.
With White and Ezinne, and Alexia and himself all coiled together, the foursome might have given off the impression that they were actually intending to have some fun! Of course, one look at White's flat face was likely to dash the dreams of any casual onlooker. It was quite nice to see him make the effort though!
Ezinne was receptive to the man's invitation, and Jaxen was so thoroughly amused by the idea of White hitting on an actual woman that he didn't mind losing the catch.
Alexia set her glass aside as she finished the toast to catch White's eye. "Did you say Pervaya? My family uses them. Will you, Jaxen? Is this the man you want to hire to protect you?"
Jax had to shrug; a subtle and nonchalant movement that was surely not threatening to a slice of muscle like White. The arrangement of this meeting suggested as much, but he was not ready to commit to anything yet. "I can forgive White, here for being American. They say he is one of the best."
Jaxen's eyes dipped with the flattery. "But I'm not sure if a man who does not wish to tell me his name is very interested in taking a bullet for me."
The girls were oblivious to the side-step, but Jaxen's scrutiny narrowed slightly. White was sure to catch on to his little game. "Pervaya's grunts would take a bullet for their clients? Yes?"
Hood nodded to Alexia approvingly; her family had good taste, it seemed, then he offered Jaxen an amused grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other guy die for his."
Pervaya was not paid to take bullets for their charges, although they would without hesitation. They were paid because they could put the bullet into the other guy faster. "Our operators are the best close-protection specialists in the CCD. I've no need to explain that to a potential customer. Our reputation speaks for itself."
Jaxen's brows lifted, impressed by the answer, and he looked from one side to the other in response. Alexia held herself with confidence born from intelligence rather than her rack, although such was worthy as well. Ezinne, with her European accent and vacant expression, was still doting on White.
Regrettably, Jaxen was ready to get down to business. "Ladies, if you could excuse us?"
Alexia slipped from Jaxen's arm, and Ezinne had to ask White to move so she could get up. Both women were quickly scooped up elsewhere.
Jaxen tugged on the downy-soft sleeves of his overcoat, and thusly rearranged how he was sitting to better accommodate conversation mano a mano. "How many bullets can you stop at once, White?"
The cryptic question went unanswered a moment as Jaxen retrieved a paper-thin Wallet from the pocket of his coat. The weight of electronics pulled cashmere so inelegantly, and Jaxen had need of only one document to share tonight.
He pushed it across the table, long fingers gesturing that White study it as he wished. The document was scrolled midway through what was likely hundreds of names. The file registered, gods_known at the top. gods_eliminated was farther down. "It seems I'm on a hit list."
He was smiling. One that did sparkle his eyes. "Still interested? Or do you take it as a challenge?"
He laughed.
Hood picked up the Wallet and held it such that the display wasn't readily evident to anyone lingering in the area. All the while his gaze would continuously sweep the room, although it seemed an entirely casual, disinterested gesture rather then what it actually was. Surveying their surroundings for those a little too interested in Jaxen's presence.
"I thought you would enjoy being thought of as a god."
So the fool had somehow figured out a little of what he had stumbled himself into. How would he take the information that the Atharim, his hunters, had only learned of him because of his own stupidity and arrogance?
He eyed a few of the names on the list alongside Jaxen's, but none immediately caught his attention. That there were so many was vaguely alarming; the Atharim had their work cut out for them if they insisted on killing so many people just because they could do magic.
Was it right to kill them preemptively? He could certainly see the logic in the thought; he'd done as much and more for years, after all. Killing people because of the threat they could pose later. But could the Atharim do it without giving themselves away?
"Unfortunately, I am too busy to take up a full time contract with you, Mr Marveet. But, I know a man that do it. Mr Koloman."
It wasn't entirely a lie; Hood was too busy to take the job, and due to their past interactions it was perhaps unwise for him to do it to begin with. They knew each other, and their rapport was...strained, at best, or so he felt. And, of course, he had no interest in being around when Seth and Rune tried for Jaxen.
Jaxen's laugh barked cynical; god indeed. "That goes without saying."
He thumbed the glass of his vodka, but it had had little effect on his ability to focus. Jaxen always said the only person who could tell he was drunk was his mother, and if she were there at that moment, she'd be no more pleased than to see him sober on Christmas morning.
"Too busy, huh? Or--,"
Jaxen drumed the pads of his fingertips together, splayed open before his mouth. It did little good to hide the sinister smile behind them. "Or would you have a conflict of interest here."
Jaxen fully recalled the first time he saw this man. Protecting a billionaire with long-standing Baccarat ties. The man was old-wealth, ancient-wealth actually. Catholic. And a little too interested in Baccarat galas to go unnoticed by Jaxen when he was conducting the research that led to this little discovery.
White had been the one to warn him away from prying too close in Baccarat affairs. White was the shield for the Baccarat billionaire. White was there in the cannibal's dungeon. And here White was again. Sharing vodka with Jaxen Marveet. It seemed White was everywhere.
Jaxen's logic tripped the wire and the jaws snatched down on his little trapped victim. A voice in the back of his head warned him to be careful. White could turn and bite, but Jax's reflexes were sharp. He was confident he could dance out of harm's way if a problem arose. The Light came easily now, and Jaxen had his own confidence to speak of.
"You know exactly what that is, don't you?"
His gaze turned direct. Intent. Jaxen was capable of being serious, from time to time. Especially when it was his neck on the line. "Question is. Why am I a hunted man? And I think you know the answer."
Hood shrugged indifferently and sipped his vodka. There was no hint of guilt, or panic, not even of annoyance. He didn't really seem to care one way or the other if Jaxen had figured it out. After all, Hood had no interest in killing him, and he was no Atharim. They should have hired him to help their people kill Jaxen after the man had broke into their headquarters, not to track him. At that time, it had been justified. Now, they wanted to kill him not because he knew too much, but because he could do something that could, maybe, be dangerous to people. Their motivations were all wrong, but that was their business. "Wouldn't say conflict of interest. Lack of interest is probably better."
He fixed Jaxen with an indifferent glance, "I can't tell you anything specific. You tipped them off about your...abilities. I've worked with them in the past. They hunt monsters. Those things that had you, rougarou. Mutant cannibals. There's all sorts of things out there. Would gray your hair if you had a glimmer of how bad it can really be in the world."
He expected denial. He expected redirection. He half expected White to stand up and leave. A shrug, scotch, and a straight answer was the last thing Jaxen imagined would come of the confrontation.
It certainly gave him something to think about. Tipping them off? Who was them? and why the hell did it matter? Abilities. Gods. Monsters.
"I'm not sure if I should be offended or not, Mister White. Am I a god? Or a monster?"
Deep thoughts for later, perhaps. But if you're saying there's more of those cannibals in the world, I really will think seriously about hiring your buddy."
He darkened, and when he drank the vodka that time, it was to the bottom of the glass and beyond.
He refilled both of theirs with more. If White was in a talking mood, Jaxen was all ears.
"So, how fucked am I?"
He shrugged again and finished his vodka before setting the glass aside and taking up his scotch. "Don't believe in gods. They do. And they fear them. No idea why."
He sat back in the couch, one arm tossed across it's back and one foot up on his other knee, relaxed and surveying the view. "Can't say how fucked you are or not. They hunt monsters. Monsters are off the grid. Someone like you though. Can't be more in the grid then you are, can you? If it makes you feel any better, I've no interest in pulling the trigger on your type."
Jax blinked and held up a hand. "Wait. I'm all kinds of appreciative that I'm not your type, but you're kidding about this god bullshit, right? What the fuck does that mean, 'they believe in gods' and monsters? You mean like goblins and fairies-bullshit?"
Jax was open-minded. But this was insane.
It did occur to him that White might be screwing with him, but the man's relaxed, seemingly bored posture spoke otherwise. "I assume you'll be telling them I know, now?"
"Yep. Like I said. Go gray if you knew how bad it really is out there.
" Hood glanced at Jaxen a moment then shrugged dismissively, "Not unless they ask. I'm not one of them. Security is my day job. Monster hunting is for after hours fun. They go after you like they do their monsters, Koloman'll have no trouble keeping you in one piece."
Of course, Koloman wasn't likely to be at Jaxen's side in time to be of any use to the lad. Seth and Rune would be on the Marveet boy long before that contract could be finalized.
Even if some anonymous cult's ass was in the right to be all twisted up phobic over his abilities; when the the strength of the universe roared through his body, it scared the shit out of Jaxen too. But how could they possibly know what he felt when he didn't understand it himself? When Tony didn't understand it. Tony. Jaxen blinked. Tony warned him about this.
White didn't particularly admit either way, but the idea of these people knowing that Jaxen was aware of their presence wasn't exactly comforting.
White's suggestion planted the seed in his head, though. Kolomon? Really? Props to Pervaya and all, but if one operator worked with these people, others could as well. How the hell do you trust anyone, anymore? Can't a guy just walk around being the shit and not get iced for it? Almost enough of a bother to be annoying.
"You're being awfully cooperative, White."
Jaxen's gaze narrowed, and for once, he actually took his own look around the room. He was in the middle of one of the safest public venues in the world. Manifesto had their own security team. Everyone was checked at the doors. Not so much as a hologram of a weapon was allowed in. "You're not--?"
His voice trailed.
"I'm not what? Planning to kill you? Could have done that when you were hiding in that crummy hotel room. Like I said, I'm not after you. I hunt their monsters, not humans. You're paying for this meeting, Mr Marveet. Isn't exactly the topic we're supposed to be discussing, but it's still work related. I'll file these hours as a work related expense."
Hood didn't consider Jaxen a god or a monster. Maybe a mutant? He didn't know the specifics about this whole magic bullshit, but there seemed nothing monstrous about Jaxen outside his taste in clothes, nothing inhuman asides his aversion to clothes that cost less then three digits.
Damn. White said that a little too matter-of-factly. Jaxen almost had a chill. If he weren't layered in fucking cashmere, that was.
Neither was he particularly fond of the fact that the idiots - or seeming idiots - tailing him at that hotel had White with them at the time. A little bone-chilling to think about.
He sneered. "Well, good to know. But since we're here, and I'm apparently paying, stay and drink. Alexia and Ezinne are likely gone to the wind, but there's plenty more ass where they came from. Its only fucking money, right? And it looks like I'm staring down the tunnel of my last few days."
He waved a hand high in the air. The two nearest girls exchanged looks and came over, "I'm Jaxen. Stay and keep my friend White company. I'm off to take a piss."
Jaxen made sure the girls settled in with his friend then wound his way through the room toward the bathrooms.
Hood nodded as Jaxen stood and called over his smoke screen; the man was making a break for it, no doubt. This was where most men would break down and offer apologies, ask forgiveness, or toss an 'it's nothing personal' as some sort of excuse. They would grab at whatever they could to shield themselves from the guilt of what had been revealed between Hood and Jaxen.
But Jaxen was, somewhere beneath all the shit, probably a smart man. He'd either blame Hood for all his troubles, or he'd understand that Hood had no ill will towards him. Hell, at least Jaxen was walking out with some semblance of control. Hood probably should have felt guilty that the hunters were waiting for this very turn of events; or well, that this was one of two likely outcomes, but he didn't. The Atharim had a job to do, and their reasons were at least routed in good cause.
When Jaxen vanished, Hood pulled his phone and sent a text to a throw-away phone held by Seth and Rune. His part of this fiasco was over, and now he had plenty to keep himself occupied, as he turned his attention to the two women Jaxen had saddled him with. No point passing up a good opportunity. Again, neither could hold a candle to Spectra's intensity, but he couldn't expect perfection of everyone.
He largely had zero look-out for his guest. The man would likely be on time. He was representing Pervaya after all, and the assistant that arranged this whole ordeal was rather proud of the company's stance on punctuality. Thus, Jaxen was otherwise well-distracted when his date for the night made himself known.
From hovering over the shoulder of one of the eyecandies, Alexia, the one with darkly arabic features and exotically tipped eyelashes, he casually looked up. "You do clean up well, White."
A compliment, but then again the last time Jaxen saw the man was moments before he was clocked by the side of a rifle. Likewise, Jaxen was probably a few shades better looking - and smelling - himself. Even the great Jaxen could be worn down by a few nights in a cannibal dungeon.
The other eyecandy, the one Jaxen did not have his arm around, but was none the less seated closely, was a red-haired girl with a western accent Jaxen couldn't quite place. The implants looked like a Moscow-surgeon's specialty, however. She curled her hand around Jaxen's arm, which of course made him look over as she whispered a request in his ear, one that lit his expression with surprised interest.
Jax gestured at the free space next to the redhead. "Join us, White. This is Alexia,"
his eyes flicked from one beauty to the other, "and this is,"
and he blinked, "tell me your name again, honey? Ah, yes! Ezinne. Girls, this slice of American before you is-"
and that's when Jaxen caught himself.
"Actually, White, what is your first name?"
He smirked.
The show had begun.
Hood's expression didn't change in the slightest at the whispers and glances, nor did his gaze shift to encompass the space indicated for him to sit. He was there for business, not pleasure or familiar conversation (neither of which he was likely to find anywhere in the presence of Jaxen Marveet), and so he chose to sit instead on the couch most readily adjacent to Jaxen and his friends. "Mister White. Or just Sir. Mr. Marveet."
Pervaya was professional; their men when contracted as bodyguards were not members of the family or loyal pets. Friends and family made mistakes, were blinded to possible dangers. And pets were loyal but stupid. Pervaya's people were the best for a reason, and distance was part of that reason. His tone was not rude or derisive; it was educating and calm. "Miss Alexia. Miss Ezinne."
He nodded to either woman in turn, and as he sat the button of his suit was popped free, to make sure it continued to hang properly and not wrinkle.
A true-blooded boy of Moscow would have taken offense by White's dismissal of tradition. Jaxen was one such true-blooded Moscow boy. He had the accent, the shrewd, suspicious gaze, and the name to go along with their reputation. But somehow, as White sat himself next to Ezinne, who in turn deprived of Jaxen's full attention was going to latch onto the westerner like the true succubus she was, Jax was rather prepared for such a reaction. And he had a few words perched at the tip of the tongue for such an occasion.
He poured the man a vodka and pushed the tiny glass in front of him with a suggestive grin. "A word of advice, White - though I'd think a good Moscow company like Pervaya would include this bulletpoint in their orientation -"
he snapped the lid back on the crystalline bottle of liquor, "Business is not to be had without trust."
The corner of his lip quirked playful, "And Russians do not trust a man who will not drink vodka."
He held White's gaze a moment longer before withdrawing. He knew some of where White drew the line, but Jaxen was only being playful. Mostly. "Why don't you tell us all your name? Besides, Ezinne is dying to know,"
she'd now perched her chin on the back of her hand. The make of White's suit was not lost on her trained eyes. She was a model, after all.
Hood carefully set his glass of expensive scotch down next to the glass of vodka, and picked it up instead. He held the cup out in a toast, "Za vashe zdorovie." Here's to your health. He then tapped the glass on the table top before taking a shallow sip, glancing at the empty table, "Traditionally, vodka was served with a meal. Used to be known as bread wine." Another shallow sip, and the glass was set down next to his scotch, and he settled his gaze on Ezinne for a moment, studying her features before catching her eyes with a hint of a smile, "Well, Miss Ezinne, if you wish to know my first name, you will have to approach me when my business with Mr Marveet is complete." His tone clearly hinted that it was an invitation, although in truth that was mostly just to annoy Jaxen, an idle curiosity to see how easily he could pluck the man's candy from his bowl.
Jaxen lifted his glass to return the favor. A slick grin split his face. White's Russian was perfect. "Tvoye zdorovye!"
and tipped half the glass back. It was poor taste to drink to the bottom all at once. Especially when a series of at least four more toasts were to follow.
With White and Ezinne, and Alexia and himself all coiled together, the foursome might have given off the impression that they were actually intending to have some fun! Of course, one look at White's flat face was likely to dash the dreams of any casual onlooker. It was quite nice to see him make the effort though!
Ezinne was receptive to the man's invitation, and Jaxen was so thoroughly amused by the idea of White hitting on an actual woman that he didn't mind losing the catch.
Alexia set her glass aside as she finished the toast to catch White's eye. "Did you say Pervaya? My family uses them. Will you, Jaxen? Is this the man you want to hire to protect you?"
Jax had to shrug; a subtle and nonchalant movement that was surely not threatening to a slice of muscle like White. The arrangement of this meeting suggested as much, but he was not ready to commit to anything yet. "I can forgive White, here for being American. They say he is one of the best."
Jaxen's eyes dipped with the flattery. "But I'm not sure if a man who does not wish to tell me his name is very interested in taking a bullet for me."
The girls were oblivious to the side-step, but Jaxen's scrutiny narrowed slightly. White was sure to catch on to his little game. "Pervaya's grunts would take a bullet for their clients? Yes?"
Hood nodded to Alexia approvingly; her family had good taste, it seemed, then he offered Jaxen an amused grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other guy die for his."
Pervaya was not paid to take bullets for their charges, although they would without hesitation. They were paid because they could put the bullet into the other guy faster. "Our operators are the best close-protection specialists in the CCD. I've no need to explain that to a potential customer. Our reputation speaks for itself."
Jaxen's brows lifted, impressed by the answer, and he looked from one side to the other in response. Alexia held herself with confidence born from intelligence rather than her rack, although such was worthy as well. Ezinne, with her European accent and vacant expression, was still doting on White.
Regrettably, Jaxen was ready to get down to business. "Ladies, if you could excuse us?"
Alexia slipped from Jaxen's arm, and Ezinne had to ask White to move so she could get up. Both women were quickly scooped up elsewhere.
Jaxen tugged on the downy-soft sleeves of his overcoat, and thusly rearranged how he was sitting to better accommodate conversation mano a mano. "How many bullets can you stop at once, White?"
The cryptic question went unanswered a moment as Jaxen retrieved a paper-thin Wallet from the pocket of his coat. The weight of electronics pulled cashmere so inelegantly, and Jaxen had need of only one document to share tonight.
He pushed it across the table, long fingers gesturing that White study it as he wished. The document was scrolled midway through what was likely hundreds of names. The file registered, gods_known at the top. gods_eliminated was farther down. "It seems I'm on a hit list."
He was smiling. One that did sparkle his eyes. "Still interested? Or do you take it as a challenge?"
He laughed.
Hood picked up the Wallet and held it such that the display wasn't readily evident to anyone lingering in the area. All the while his gaze would continuously sweep the room, although it seemed an entirely casual, disinterested gesture rather then what it actually was. Surveying their surroundings for those a little too interested in Jaxen's presence.
"I thought you would enjoy being thought of as a god."
So the fool had somehow figured out a little of what he had stumbled himself into. How would he take the information that the Atharim, his hunters, had only learned of him because of his own stupidity and arrogance?
He eyed a few of the names on the list alongside Jaxen's, but none immediately caught his attention. That there were so many was vaguely alarming; the Atharim had their work cut out for them if they insisted on killing so many people just because they could do magic.
Was it right to kill them preemptively? He could certainly see the logic in the thought; he'd done as much and more for years, after all. Killing people because of the threat they could pose later. But could the Atharim do it without giving themselves away?
"Unfortunately, I am too busy to take up a full time contract with you, Mr Marveet. But, I know a man that do it. Mr Koloman."
It wasn't entirely a lie; Hood was too busy to take the job, and due to their past interactions it was perhaps unwise for him to do it to begin with. They knew each other, and their rapport was...strained, at best, or so he felt. And, of course, he had no interest in being around when Seth and Rune tried for Jaxen.
Jaxen's laugh barked cynical; god indeed. "That goes without saying."
He thumbed the glass of his vodka, but it had had little effect on his ability to focus. Jaxen always said the only person who could tell he was drunk was his mother, and if she were there at that moment, she'd be no more pleased than to see him sober on Christmas morning.
"Too busy, huh? Or--,"
Jaxen drumed the pads of his fingertips together, splayed open before his mouth. It did little good to hide the sinister smile behind them. "Or would you have a conflict of interest here."
Jaxen fully recalled the first time he saw this man. Protecting a billionaire with long-standing Baccarat ties. The man was old-wealth, ancient-wealth actually. Catholic. And a little too interested in Baccarat galas to go unnoticed by Jaxen when he was conducting the research that led to this little discovery.
White had been the one to warn him away from prying too close in Baccarat affairs. White was the shield for the Baccarat billionaire. White was there in the cannibal's dungeon. And here White was again. Sharing vodka with Jaxen Marveet. It seemed White was everywhere.
Jaxen's logic tripped the wire and the jaws snatched down on his little trapped victim. A voice in the back of his head warned him to be careful. White could turn and bite, but Jax's reflexes were sharp. He was confident he could dance out of harm's way if a problem arose. The Light came easily now, and Jaxen had his own confidence to speak of.
"You know exactly what that is, don't you?"
His gaze turned direct. Intent. Jaxen was capable of being serious, from time to time. Especially when it was his neck on the line. "Question is. Why am I a hunted man? And I think you know the answer."
Hood shrugged indifferently and sipped his vodka. There was no hint of guilt, or panic, not even of annoyance. He didn't really seem to care one way or the other if Jaxen had figured it out. After all, Hood had no interest in killing him, and he was no Atharim. They should have hired him to help their people kill Jaxen after the man had broke into their headquarters, not to track him. At that time, it had been justified. Now, they wanted to kill him not because he knew too much, but because he could do something that could, maybe, be dangerous to people. Their motivations were all wrong, but that was their business. "Wouldn't say conflict of interest. Lack of interest is probably better."
He fixed Jaxen with an indifferent glance, "I can't tell you anything specific. You tipped them off about your...abilities. I've worked with them in the past. They hunt monsters. Those things that had you, rougarou. Mutant cannibals. There's all sorts of things out there. Would gray your hair if you had a glimmer of how bad it can really be in the world."
He expected denial. He expected redirection. He half expected White to stand up and leave. A shrug, scotch, and a straight answer was the last thing Jaxen imagined would come of the confrontation.
It certainly gave him something to think about. Tipping them off? Who was them? and why the hell did it matter? Abilities. Gods. Monsters.
"I'm not sure if I should be offended or not, Mister White. Am I a god? Or a monster?"
Deep thoughts for later, perhaps. But if you're saying there's more of those cannibals in the world, I really will think seriously about hiring your buddy."
He darkened, and when he drank the vodka that time, it was to the bottom of the glass and beyond.
He refilled both of theirs with more. If White was in a talking mood, Jaxen was all ears.
"So, how fucked am I?"
He shrugged again and finished his vodka before setting the glass aside and taking up his scotch. "Don't believe in gods. They do. And they fear them. No idea why."
He sat back in the couch, one arm tossed across it's back and one foot up on his other knee, relaxed and surveying the view. "Can't say how fucked you are or not. They hunt monsters. Monsters are off the grid. Someone like you though. Can't be more in the grid then you are, can you? If it makes you feel any better, I've no interest in pulling the trigger on your type."
Jax blinked and held up a hand. "Wait. I'm all kinds of appreciative that I'm not your type, but you're kidding about this god bullshit, right? What the fuck does that mean, 'they believe in gods' and monsters? You mean like goblins and fairies-bullshit?"
Jax was open-minded. But this was insane.
It did occur to him that White might be screwing with him, but the man's relaxed, seemingly bored posture spoke otherwise. "I assume you'll be telling them I know, now?"
"Yep. Like I said. Go gray if you knew how bad it really is out there.
" Hood glanced at Jaxen a moment then shrugged dismissively, "Not unless they ask. I'm not one of them. Security is my day job. Monster hunting is for after hours fun. They go after you like they do their monsters, Koloman'll have no trouble keeping you in one piece."
Of course, Koloman wasn't likely to be at Jaxen's side in time to be of any use to the lad. Seth and Rune would be on the Marveet boy long before that contract could be finalized.
Even if some anonymous cult's ass was in the right to be all twisted up phobic over his abilities; when the the strength of the universe roared through his body, it scared the shit out of Jaxen too. But how could they possibly know what he felt when he didn't understand it himself? When Tony didn't understand it. Tony. Jaxen blinked. Tony warned him about this.
White didn't particularly admit either way, but the idea of these people knowing that Jaxen was aware of their presence wasn't exactly comforting.
White's suggestion planted the seed in his head, though. Kolomon? Really? Props to Pervaya and all, but if one operator worked with these people, others could as well. How the hell do you trust anyone, anymore? Can't a guy just walk around being the shit and not get iced for it? Almost enough of a bother to be annoying.
"You're being awfully cooperative, White."
Jaxen's gaze narrowed, and for once, he actually took his own look around the room. He was in the middle of one of the safest public venues in the world. Manifesto had their own security team. Everyone was checked at the doors. Not so much as a hologram of a weapon was allowed in. "You're not--?"
His voice trailed.
"I'm not what? Planning to kill you? Could have done that when you were hiding in that crummy hotel room. Like I said, I'm not after you. I hunt their monsters, not humans. You're paying for this meeting, Mr Marveet. Isn't exactly the topic we're supposed to be discussing, but it's still work related. I'll file these hours as a work related expense."
Hood didn't consider Jaxen a god or a monster. Maybe a mutant? He didn't know the specifics about this whole magic bullshit, but there seemed nothing monstrous about Jaxen outside his taste in clothes, nothing inhuman asides his aversion to clothes that cost less then three digits.
Damn. White said that a little too matter-of-factly. Jaxen almost had a chill. If he weren't layered in fucking cashmere, that was.
Neither was he particularly fond of the fact that the idiots - or seeming idiots - tailing him at that hotel had White with them at the time. A little bone-chilling to think about.
He sneered. "Well, good to know. But since we're here, and I'm apparently paying, stay and drink. Alexia and Ezinne are likely gone to the wind, but there's plenty more ass where they came from. Its only fucking money, right? And it looks like I'm staring down the tunnel of my last few days."
He waved a hand high in the air. The two nearest girls exchanged looks and came over, "I'm Jaxen. Stay and keep my friend White company. I'm off to take a piss."
Jaxen made sure the girls settled in with his friend then wound his way through the room toward the bathrooms.
Hood nodded as Jaxen stood and called over his smoke screen; the man was making a break for it, no doubt. This was where most men would break down and offer apologies, ask forgiveness, or toss an 'it's nothing personal' as some sort of excuse. They would grab at whatever they could to shield themselves from the guilt of what had been revealed between Hood and Jaxen.
But Jaxen was, somewhere beneath all the shit, probably a smart man. He'd either blame Hood for all his troubles, or he'd understand that Hood had no ill will towards him. Hell, at least Jaxen was walking out with some semblance of control. Hood probably should have felt guilty that the hunters were waiting for this very turn of events; or well, that this was one of two likely outcomes, but he didn't. The Atharim had a job to do, and their reasons were at least routed in good cause.
When Jaxen vanished, Hood pulled his phone and sent a text to a throw-away phone held by Seth and Rune. His part of this fiasco was over, and now he had plenty to keep himself occupied, as he turned his attention to the two women Jaxen had saddled him with. No point passing up a good opportunity. Again, neither could hold a candle to Spectra's intensity, but he couldn't expect perfection of everyone.