A sleek Mercedes SLK pulls to the curb in front of the Ventrue Estates, the chrome glistening under the harsh sodium arc lamps that light the streets. The engine ticks slowly as the engine cools, as though it had just come from a long drive.
  The door swings open, and Cyrus steps from his vehicle, stretching his large frame from the compact sports coupe. With an understated gentleness, he softly closes his door behind him, and walks to the front entrance of the building. Pausing for a moment before entering, he looks around, taking in his surroundings, though a careful observer would notice the cold, efficient calculations flashing across his eyes, taking note of every useful thing around him. And then, he moves forward, striding gracefully in through the front doors of the building, heading directly to the security desk.

::the security guard at the desk looks Cyrus up and down before saying:: Can I help you, Sir?
[Cyrus R. Crewe] *giving the guard a piercing stare* "Yes, ...I do believe that Ms. Sasha Moreau is expecting me. Please inform her that Mr. Crewe is here"  
::the guard nods slightly, makes a single phone call before his gaze returns to Cyrus once again:: Of course Mr. Crewe. The elevator in the center will take you to the penthouse Sir.
[David Cohen]
Thu Jul 24 2:29:55 ::and in the reception area just before one enters the Primogen's office...David bumps into Willem:: Mr. Uys. ::his tone neutral::
[Johan] Nothing to be sorry about, David. Oh my another family member. Looks like miss Moreau has quit the party planned.
[Cyrus R. Crewe] Cyrus nods politely to the guard, and tells him "Thank You", before turning sharply and striding to the elevator. The ride a short and swift, the doors sliding open as it stops at the penthouse level
[David Cohen] I didn't say I was sor...::turning he eyes the man stepping off of the elevator::
[Cyrus R. Crewe] *Cyrus steps from the elevator to find two unfamiliar faces looking at him.He walks towards them, hand extended...
"Gentlemen, let me introduce myself. I am Cyrus Roderic Crewe"  
[Johan] *Willem reaches for the outstretched hand.* Good evening Cyrus. Willem Uys, and why do we owe the pleasure of you being  
[David Cohen] T-t-there is no need t-t-to be rude Mr. Uys. At least until Mr. C-C-Crewe shows himself t-t-to be inferior in some way. Perhaps a speech impediment? ::and yes, that's a stutter...he reaches out to take Cyrus' offered hand::
[David Cohen] David C-C-Cohen, by t-t-the way. ::his accent British with a hint of something else::
[Cyrus R. Crewe] *grasping their hands in handshakes, firm, yet icy cold*
"Good Evening, Mr. Uys, and Mr. Cohen"
(You notice a faint New England Accent tinged with a trace of old Brittania)
[Cyrus R. Crewe] "For the moment, my purpose is simply to bolster the numbers of clan, to help elevate it back to it's proper status."
[Johan] "Why david, i wasn`t rude, you have yet to see me rude." *Looks towards Mister Crewe.* Good, good. We can always use more. Where are you from if i may ask? (dialect has some slight Dutch sound to it.)  
[David Cohen] Admirable Mr. C-C-Crewe. Primogen Moreau is speaking t-t-to members of our family in Europe. But I imagine Mr. Uys and I c-c-can entertain you for t-t-the moment.
[David Cohen] ::adjusts his glasses and eyes Willem:: Right.
[Johan] *flashes a predatory smile towards David.*
[Cyrus R. Crewe] *turning towards Willem, blank faced and unblinking eyes coldly polite* "hmm...I was to understand that Ms. Moreau was here. But, as she is not then I suppose that I shall allow myself to be entertained by Mr. Uys"
[David Cohen] She is indeed here. Simply busy at t-t-the moment. Or so her secretary t-t-told me.
[Johan] "Some phonecall, she had to take." "But there is still the question of the domain origin."
[Cyrus R. Crewe] "Indeed...well then, gentlemen, as I am new to your city, perhaps you could enlighten me as to the more relevant current events. And I do apologize, Mr Cohen. I did not mean to exclude you from the...entertainment"  
[David Cohen] Have either of you seen t-t-this evenings news report?
[Johan] not really. flight didn`t show it.
[David Cohen] A rather disturbing Masquerade breach.  
[Cyrus R. Crewe] "Unfortunately, no..I was driving in this evening, Mr Cohen"
[Johan] What kind of breach?
[David Cohen] Perhaps it is still being played on t-t-the local c-c-channels. ::looking around he spots a large flat screen that one often sees in rather posh reception areas, and moves over to turn the set on::  

--Last edited by David on 2008-07-24 04:28:05 --

Cyrus watches for a brief moment as Mr. Cohen turns the television on to the mentioned broadcast, taking in the details of the event. While the others seem to be momentarily engrossed with the breach being covered, he moves swiftly to the receptionist desk in the receiving area.
   " Could you please inform Ms Moreau that I am here, as soon as she has finished her call, " he says, his tones very compelling. " I would hate to neglect my duties in introducing myself to her."

The secretary, trying to be the barrier will be called off by the intercom. There is a quick buzz and that angry voice of the primogen.

'Send them in.'

The secretary will just get out of the way, buzzing the heavy doors open for the three Ventrue...

Sasha is in the expansive office with her back to the doors. She is looking out the massive windows. The tower being second highest point in the citys skyline its quite a view.

Tonight she looks towards the heights... the red and blue flashes of sirens bouncing off buildings and making it very easy to spot the area of the breach they all just witnessed on the television...

Looking up from the television as the Primogen's office opens.  He taps Willem on the shoulder.  "Primogen Moreau has given us an invitation Mr. Uys."  With that he follows Cyrus into Sasha's office.

What the primogen wants, she gets. *Follows david.*

Stepping into the office David simply looks toward Cyrus, and then Primogen Moreau...his expression neutral.

Standing before the Primogen's desk, Cyrus takes in the view of the city skyline, noticing the flashing lights far below. Giving a respectful moment to let all parties situate themselves, he then addresses Sasha
 "Ms. Moreau..please forgive the untimely intrusion. I'm afraid I was a touch detained as I was being ...entertained , by these gentlemen here. "he says dryly. " It would seem that my arrival in your city has come at a rather interesting time. Fortunate for some, but not so for others."

She does not turn from the window, she just continues to smoke from her cigarette, flicking ashes onto the polished marble floor for the strange little robot roaming about the room to clean up.

She could be staring right into Cyrus' eyes through the reflection in the window-glass, or she could simply be staring off into the distance.

"It has often been said that there is an ancient curse, Mister Crewe, the Asians know it well: 'May you live in interesting times,' they say."

Turning to regard Cyrus before the other two, as he had not only followed the proper channels of communication before his arrival, but he is also more decorated than the other two, she says in a morose, but very final tone, as if she is unwilling to yield the point "We are all cursed."

Adopting a more conversational tone, she continues "Your presence is neither untimely nor intrusive Mister Crewe, which is more than I may say for your..." She gives a cold stare to David and Willem in turn "entertainers. I do hope that you two have an amazing excuse for being here unannounced. If not, I would suggest that you return to your own lodgings, and try making a fucking appointment. This is not a clubhouse."

Nods slightly, "One wonders why t-t-there have been so few successful Ventrue in t-t-this city.  Or at least one would, before they met you Primogen Moreau."  As he heads toward the door he says over his shoulder, "As always...t-t-thank you for your hospitality."

If she had not already suspected the whelp of weak breeding, she might have actually been shocked at his utter lack of respect, to say nothing of his obvious inability to stand on ceremony.

Though David must be well on his way to the elevator by now, she continues to speak to him as though he were still standing there. "No, David, there have been so few successful Ventrue in this city because they all turn out to be irreverent, foppish little tools bereft of any grace or sense."

Holding a single finger up to Cyrus, "One moment, if you please sir." she strolls over to her enormous desk, stubbing out her cigarette in a huge ashtray and immediately lighting another.

Hitting a button on her desk-phone, she says "Security. The gentleman with the speech impediment is just on his way out. Please ensure that he does not get lost." Of course the guards know this means beat the shit out of him and throw him out if he gives them any lip or goes wandering about.

Pushing an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, she moves to the fron to the desk near Cyrus, glaring at Willem and leaning against it. She will give him just long enough to state his business or leave before speaking to Cyrus once more.

"I believe it was your turn to speak, Mister Crewe." It is almost polite.

And out David goes, not passing go and not collecting two hundred dollars.  He decides to visit a certain Cigar shop.  ((Continues in Captian Redundants under "David asks..."))

"I was under the mistaken impression from our well spoken friend that you required the both of us. I`ll shall in the future be more questioning of his statements. If you no longer require me, i shall retire and make the first inroads of staying in this city."

Respect is an expensive, revolving door.

"Thank you Mister Uys, your lineage is evident in your wisdom. I will not fault you for listening to a fool, this time, but I will ask you to be mindful of protocol in the future. Good business to you sir, and good evening."

*Moves out.*

Cyrus's eyes track on Sasha through the entire course of her rather one-sided conversation, entirely amused but keeping the smile in check. The smallest of smiles that tugs at the corners of his mouth are as icy as his handshake.  
  As Sasha turns to him, waiting for a reply, his full undivided attention is directed to her.
 " Ms. Moreau," with a half bow from the waist, " Allow me to formally introduce myself to you. I am Cyrus Roderic Crewe, recently of your city. As my time here has been very short, I am afraid that my knowledge of the city and it's lesser denziens is a bit lacking, as you may assume from part of my previous company." A cold light flickers momentarily across his eyes at the mention of the last. Perhaps it was simply as play of light..
" I do hope that there are ample opportunities within your city for one to expand their portfolios and acquisitions.."

 Outside the building a silver BMW 6 series pulls up, well tuned and obviously upgraded from its standard package. Inside sits a well dressed man in a Gucci suit without the tie wearing some white leather driving gloves and a stylish set of driving glasses. He picks up his Iphone calling Sascha.

"Hello Mrs.Moreau, I am downstairs, shall we make the party?"

Sasha warms considerably once the other two have left, that is to say she is no longer a raging bitchtroll from hell, just a regular bitch, no smile, all business.

She appreciates manners, and Cyrus, whatever his thoughts or intentions, has shown due respect. In her book, that will buy you damn near anything she has to offer.

"Well Mister Crewe, it would seem that you have arrived on a most fortunate night." She knows damn well that he planned for this just as well as she did. "You see the Prince has called for court this evening, you will be able to generate a sizable contacts list of this city's lesser, and not-as-lesser denizens within the hour." She smiles wickedly for a moment, somehow satisfied at his immediate distaste for the other two. "Truth be told, half the reason I so adamantly dismissed them is because I do not wish to be seen showing up to court with them in tow." Becoming quite serious once more, she adds, "They are very quickly going to make enemies with the wrong people."

She glances for a long moment out the window, dreading the long handful of seconds between when sh must leave the building and enter the car.

"As far as your second query goes, there are always ample opportunities Mister Crewe. I have little doubt that you shall find whatever you wish to find..." Suddenly her phone rings, she excuses herself from the conversation, picks up and says "We'll be right down. Thank you Mister Mazzini," and hangs up.

"Well Mister Crewe, as they say, 'timing, is everything.' Would you care to escort me to the ball?"

Perceptions sharp, Cyrus knows that Sasha has deduced the reasons of his timed arrival, which is no more than he would expect from the leader of of his clan in this city. A smile knowing smile crawls onto his face in acknowledgement of this insight. He continues to listen to Sasha, eyes follwing her with his unflinching gaze. He leans back a fraction as her phone rings, the barest inclination of relaxtion.
   "It would be my pleasure, Ms. Moreau", Cyrus replies to her inquiry, "and much to my benefit, I think. I'm sure that much more lucrative introductions could be made in your presence, rather than mine alone. As for Mr. Uys and Mr Cohen, if I may speak freely, Ms. Moreau, I have little doubt in their ability to inspire malignancy in those greater than themselves."
   "Indeed, I rather find myself ill disposed in placing any real matter of trust in them", frosty smile flashing briefly across his face. "Though, in all honesty, I do find that reluctance in distibuting trust tends to lend to longevity!"
    Cyrus lets Sasha lead from the office, follwing close behind, respectfully. He presses the button on the wall to open the doors to the elevator waiting for them, and turns to her with slight bow of the waist,
   "After you, Ms. Moreau..."

As they enter the elevator, and Sasha becomes more certain that they are alone, she will relate one more concern to him.

"Our Prince, though very capable, is certainly not one to be trifled with. I have my doubts that those two will do anything less than find their way onto his bad side. Willem, might manage, but David..." She trails off for a moment, either unable, or unwilling to sugar-coat what she was thinking.

"David is an ignorant and disrespectful twit whom I have neither the time nor the inclination to correct. I am sure that he will step on the wrong toes eventually and solve the problem for me, and it may very well be tonight. This may well be a disadvantage to you, or vice-verse, should you be presented before him, it may be to his advantage."

She glances briefly at her watch.

"I do not like either of those options personally, but I leave it to you to decide what you think is the best course of action. I have had much more time to inquire about your history than with those other two, and I am assured that you are more than capable."