2024.07.18: THAT talk

Blackett enters the Piano bar, he says to no one in particular, maybe to Marcus "I like Mr. Gordon, he is cold and analytical. Those are very good traits for someone of his stature."

"He is incredibly competent - and exacting. I have great respect for him." Marcus gestures carefully around the bar, indicating that the staff are Gordon's.

"So, can I get a rundown of what Do.... Ms. Ashview is so angry about?"

Marcus is still clearly upset by the whole thing and replies darkly. "Mr. Cruz is an idiot. As a result of his stupidity, Mr. Gordon ghouled Elizabeth - and has given me charge over her care and training. There is, i am sure, a broader game afoot between His Grace and our Siren."

"There always is. I really wish she did not have such a bias against ghouls. It would make everything so much easier." he shrugs, "But we cannot change her can we. Well, she does seem to have cooled down

There is a chuckle from the younger man at that. "No. No, we cannot. I understand her preference against them - I confess, I share it. I saw the results of the ghouling of Elizabeth's brother" Quietly "I would not wish that on anyone."

He stops a moment and looks at Blackett - rolling his words over in his mind. "Giles, how do you know she is calmer now?"

Out of nowhere, there is a soft murmur, as if the speaker is pretending to talk into a mobile phone. "Home soon. I have a plan."

“Because that.” He says plainly

Somewhere, Momus accepted Blackett's offering and gave Marcus permission to smile. "Yes, well, that would be a good indication."

There is the suspicious sound of a key in the lock of the door that leads to Crowley's network of tunnels beneath the city. Apparently, Doris took the less conspicuous route home. The latch rattles oddly, then it slowly pushes inward revealing the absent third member of the conspiring trio. "If you are talking about me, please do not stop on my account."

"Well, you just mentioned you have a plan - we are waiting, all ears."

“I did? That does not sound like me at all!” Blackett smiles “I am not sure what the end goal is, let alone a plan to accomplish such”

"I contacted Mister Cruz. Elizabeth should be off shift directly. Please arrange to have her return here in your company, Marcus." Doris is all business. "We shall have a chat. Giles, I trust that I can leave refreshments in your capable hands? She likes tea almost as much as you."

Marcus nods swiftly. "I'll arrange to have her back here. Give me an hour?"

"You have as much time as necessary. Be circumspect." Doris has a gentle sadness in her voice. "Let me be the villain. I do not care if she hates me."

From beneath the table, Cerriphan emerges like a terrible sea creature from the depths of the inky black ocean. She is giving the Keeper herself huge, sad eyes of... sadness. Truly the worst. "Doris?"

He looks at Doris before he leaves "But I care. None of us are villains." His voice becomes hard "The villain doesn't have the decency to be here." He gives Cerri a small smile as he steps out the door.

"I cannot assassinate the Council for you, a mhuirnín..." Soft murmur at the retreating Marcus. Then, to Cerriphan. "What is it, little one?"

There's a little whimper there. "What is happening? Lizzy-friend is coming down here?"

"My hand has been forced. It is time for choices and for this particular masquerade to end. Midnight has come, time to reveal our true faces." Doris sounds so terribly sad.

Marcus turns once more to Doris before leaving. "I was not referring to the Council."

It is quite impossible for blood to drain from her face, though the halting pause was indicative enough of Cerriphan's halting horror. "Oh, too close. Having a feeling of intentions, suspicions... never did having our little sleeping over. Now it will never coming, sharing ashes in our guts?" Her hands dropped to her sides, voice cracking, "Will my friend be okay?"

"I have been told to do what I must. The rest is up to her. This is a dance whose steps I alone know." Doris paces a bit, thoughtful.

Her fingers began to tap together, then her hands began to wring, like squeezing water from a cloth. "A-am I.. going to being able to staying here-- t-to watching?"

"It may be advisable for you to keep yourself hidden if you wish to stay. She will be frightened enough as it is." Gentle.

Cerriphan dropped her head, "I can making mineself disappearing."

"The fewer of us she associates with tonight, the better." Doris does not sound pleased with the situation.

With that, Cerriphan dissolves into some corner of the room, obscured.

Sometime later, Bal arrives wearing his normal affair as well as an uninterpretable expression. He descends from the bar, tapping something on his phone and then stowing it. "I take it I'm early."

"I wanted to speak with you before she gets here." Doris is still quiet...and still in her Court finery. "Why did you not come to me first?"

Blackett immediately hurries himself with the ritual of making tea. The OCD nature of the perfect cup sooths him. "Keeper Ashview, would you prefer that I take on most of the conversation? I am not from here, and if she hates me in the future it will affect less of you? I can be... bad cop as it were"

"You make it sound like I didn't spill the beans so much as rip open the can and dump it all over her," the man says flatly. "I did no such thing. I sent her to speak with a neutral party to gauge if the knowledge was something she wanted. There was choice involved." He pulls a case from inside his jacket and procures a cigarette that he doesn't light but slips into his mouth to chew. "Honestly, Doris, you and Mr. G have an obtuse, ambiguous relationship. I couldn't be sure how you were going to pitch it to him."

"That presumed I would pitch it to him at all. Now he is meddling, and I have to deal with the fallout. You are lucky I managed to get what concessions I did. There were those calling for her death." Doris briefly ignores Blackett because Cesar is in greater need of her attention at the moment. "She may still die if I put a foot wrong."

Then, to Blackett, "I appreciate your willingness to fall on this particular sword, but I may need you for other things depending on how this goes."

"I see, well now that I have met His Majesty, I feel much more secure in my ability to act as Keeper in your Elysium to whatever standard you may wish." He nods to Doris. "You know her so much better than I. But I acquiesce to your judgement, but that may be a longer conversation."

"She'll be doing no such thing," says Bal, with the ease of a man practiced at such things. "I'd disappear her myself, first." He chews the cig. "But I'll concede I could have trusted you more. The rest is what's done. The future is what's next."

"Disappearing is one of her options, yes. She may take it. We shall see." Doris commences to pace in tight circles.

Balcésar simply nods. That appears to be all he has to say about it, for now.

Eventually, the tea ritual soothes Doris' restlessness slightly. A touch of normalcy in what has been an exceptionally trying evening. Blackett always made tea before bed when she was in Montreal, a little pool of calm no matter what stresses had occurred. Even the terrors of an interview with members of the Justicariat could be overcome with the power of a Victorian's devotion to tea.

There's a jingling sound from the stairs, and tiny sounds of clicking nails on the hard steps. The first to be seen coming down the stairs is an adorable corgi/beagle mix on a leash. He sniffs at the steps as he goes. On the other end of that leash is Lizzy, dressed fairly casually: sneakers, yoga pants with pockets, a light hoodie and camisole. Athleisure would be the best term for it. Her cheeks are already wet with tears.

For the first time, Blackett is not wearing the odd set of sunglasses around Lizzy he normally is.  There is something odd to his eyes.

"Elizabeth." The small, auburn-haired woman's face looks...different. It is not, perhaps, entirely the fact she looks dreadfully upset. There is a pallor and an uncanny resemblance to some work of art Lizzy might have encountered in her studies. The archaic dress does not make her boss seem any less strange, even with the bare feet.

Someone else said something about Doris wearing bare feet and being odd...who was that?

Marcus enters, following behind her. His eyes are downcast, but he nods at Doris and Blackett. He, among the others, looks relatively normal.

Balcésar is leaning against a nearby wall looking like... himself. He's even pulled out a flask! "Let me know if you want any," he says, lifting it up a little.

There is ice in his voice as he looks at Cruz "Considering that this is entirely your fault, Mr. Cruz, that seems the least you can do."

Lizzy lets out a little whimper as she takes in the faces around her, once so familiar, but now so very, very strange. "...you... all of you..." She swats away the flask held out to her with annoyance and distress.

Marcus hand is placed on her shoulder - affectionate, and protective. "Yes. All of us."

"Elizabeth. Look at me." Gently commanding, but with no added weight. Just a request from her boss. Doris still sounds like Doris, although she also sounds distressed. "Please."

Marcus nods at Lizzy. "I told you - you're among friends - you're safe."

"I made you some tea!" Blackett says helpfully, his eyes are still disconcerting, but there is a humanity to his face still.

Lizzy just looks around the room like a cornered animal, panicking. Scooter senses her distress and growls but isn't quite sure who to growl at specifically. Or bark at. So, he picks an empty spot in the room... the empty spot remarkably close to where Cerriphan is standing.

"Come and sit and speak with me, my dear. Have a cup of tea. Giles brews an excellent cuppa." Soothing. Maternal. Pragmatic. Doris holds out both hands to the girl. Cozy and odd all at once, but that is not necessarily out of the ordinary.

But she is also so consumptively pale.

"...alll of you... ALL OF YOU... ALL of you?! The whole time... the whole time..." She then glares at Marcus, saying the next bit with gritted teeth. "THE WHOLE TIME?!"

Blackett brings over a china tray with a cup on it, a sugar bowl, and a creamer. Specifically, in the Shelly Blue Rock Dainty pattern. He indicates the China set "I brought it from home." he offers her the tray with the cup on it. There is a moment's flicker of reflexive, amused exasperation across Doris' face. Of course, he did. Because he is Giles and only that set will do.

Balcésar continues to lean against the wall, chewing the cig. He obviously feels there's really nothing he can say to put Lizzy more at ease right now.

Marcus nods at her, quietly. "Yes. Though - all things being equal, you're handling this better than I did." His hand is still placed gently on her shoulder.

"Almost as well as I did. Gentlemen do stop hovering. Scooter, there is nothing to growl at, stop it." Doris' tone has not changed from that calm, firm, sensible tone that Lizzy has heard so often solving problems in the bar upstairs.

Scooter barks at Doris, baring teeth, his own little doggie 'the hell there is, lady' perfectly expressed.

"Just..." She holds out her arms to try and get a little bit of distance between herself and those coming up to her. She shrugs off Marcus' hand brusquely. "Sorry... trying to process the idea that ALL MY FRIENDS ARE FUCKIN' DEAD."

"For a given valuation of the word, yes." Doris takes a deep, unnecessary breath, as if steeling herself for something. “Your brother is dead as a result of our politics. There will never be justice, never be a trial, nobody will go to jail. There is only vengeance. You are here, Elizabeth Ann McCrory, because you deserve to know the full truth and be offered a chance to avenge him yourself. You are under a terrible burden. I wish to provide you leverage.”

The Siren pauses, a momentary gathering of her thoughts. “I am not unsympathetic to your situation. I found myself in it long ago. I was in well over my head and was offered a similar deal to the one I am offering you now. Obviously, I accepted. I will not tell you whether or not you should accept, that is your choice. However, the first steps along one path to this end have been decided for you between the actions of Mister Cruz and Mister Gordon. You are welcome to follow that path, to be a servant in the house of Marcellus Gordon and do his bidding, risking your life whether you choose to or no. You have seen how well that has served Mister Buchanan, our bouncer. He is the only one to have survived his last mission. A leanbh, I do not wish this for you. I only hope we are having this talk in time for my words to land and find purchase in your heart, that it has not been poisoned beyond sense and reason already by who have meant well but done ill.”

Another pause, the dead woman’s face registering an expression between anxiety, hope, and grief. She bites her lip, terribly human. “I have come to love you in the years you have been working for me, and all that I have said about how indispensable to me you are is true. I hired you away from Sarah as an arrangement to keep you safe from all of this. We thought that your presence here and under the aegis of our society’s sacred laws would be armor enough to shield you from being caught up in the schemes within schemes. We were wrong. For that I am sorry. However, I promised to keep you safe and I am keeping that promise by breaking silence. You deserve better than to be manipulated by ancient monsters. Before I lay out your choices, do you have any questions?”

Bal obviously disagrees that vengeance should be the primary determining factor here, as he scowls at the mention of it. But for the moment, he doesn't interrupt.

"What the hell do you mean, things have been decided for me." Lizzy sounds... mean. Her brows are tightly knit, her fists are tightly clenched, and the scowl on her face is one no one in this room has ever seen. Perhaps if a certain angel were still in it, he might recognize it...

"Your scotch was tampered with." Gently. "I know the brand and I know the man and I just came from speaking with him about his presumptions."

"Remember the door?" Bal still looks irritated. "I had my suspicions."

"Marcus had it tested. I never got to see the results." She looks at Marcus. "But he probably knew the whole goddamn time too."

"The result is that only Marcellus Gordon of Gordon Industries could have adulterated it." There is an edge to the Siren's voice, as if the fact is on the edge of tolerable.

Lizzy: "Define 'adulterated.'"

Marcus nods. "I suspected the moment that I tasted it. That is why I removed it from your home - to confirm my suspicions. I warned you that it had been doctored."

"It does not trigger my difficulty with food and drink." Doris phrases things as delicately as possible.

"Oh, fuckin' spit it out," Lizzy hisses, clearly sick of the talking around things.

Balcesar: "His blood."

"Vampire Blood, dear" Blackett says quietly.

Lizzy is now trembling, not with fear, but with rage. She whirls around, her fist balled tight, and it connects with the wall. Hard. The material of the wall gives under the force. Lizzy should not be able to punch that hard for her frame.

The fist lands perilously close to where Bal is holding up that particular chunk of wall. The force surprises her, and she shakily pulls her hand away from the wall. The knuckles should have split, at the very least... but aside from maybe some crumbling plaster or flecks of paint, her hand is without injury.

"Hush, a leanbh. Hit me, if you must hit something." Softly. No anger or reprimand in the SIren's voice. Just gentle, sorrowful compassion. "If there is fault here, it is mine."

Bal doesn't seem surprised. Nor does he move. He seems to have expected something like that would happen. The whiskey is still available, though he doesn't hold it out to her. "The blood's addictive; it's a method of control."

"Dear, they really did mean well. And tried to keep you out of it..."

"No, darling, the fault is assuredly NOT yours." His voice is ice, and he is looking - rather deliberately - at the other Toreador.

"Shut up, Marcus. Or I shall do it for you." Finally, a hint of the fire and steel in the Siren's soul.

"No. It's not your fault, Doris. It's Gordon's." Lizzy's voice comes out as a choked sob.

Marcus pulls out his phone, makes a few quick movements, and nods, satisfied before putting the phone back."

Bal pointedly ignores the accusations.

"My cherished one, my sweet girl, I *promised* to keep you safe. Yet here we are. Help me find a way through this storm. Please." Gently again. Doris' attention remains primarily on Lizzy, as if they are the only two entities in the room.

"Gordon did this to me. After I went to him... after talkin' to you." She looks at Bal. "Cuz he told me to keep an eye out for anythin' strange goin' on in the city, and that? That counts. I've been watchin' for shit like this for him ever since."

And as soon as the words come out of her mouth, she cringes in some unknown pain. "...the fuck..." She has to brace herself against the table to reorient herself.

Doris' face twists in both sympathy and another flicker of her boundless cold anger. It is quickly smoothed over. "Let me help you. Of all the people in this room, I can match him. Elizabeth, *please*." Tense and anxious now. Doris might need a cuppa later at this rate.

He takes a step forward, offering an arm to support her. "Are you okay?" There is a quick glance backwards towards the others.

"I just need to sit down. Rub some dirt on it. Or somethin'..." She takes a few deep breaths, waving Marcus off. "Stop fussin', you're worse than my grandma," she mutters, pulling out a chair for herself.

There is muttered swearing in Gaelic. Then, "Would you like that tea now? Please say yes, I cannot handle one more emotional meltdown today."

"It is quite good" Blackett adds.

"Is there blood in it?" Lizzy asks with a snarl. Scooter sits at Lizzy's feet when she takes a seat. On her feet, in fact.

"Just the blood and sweat of century of my people." Blackett tries to lighten the mood, "Simple black tea, love."

"Lizzy, none of us - certainly not Ms. Ashview, Mr. Blackett, or I - would offer you blooded drink covertly." Marcus’ voice is quiet - Doris would recognize it as his attempts to calm the situation.

Lizzy looks at them all warily.... then takes the tea, taking a sip. She manages to hold her hands still. "...I recognize what is happenin' to me now. This is like what happened to Jason before he died. But Mr. Gordon... he's... he had to've had a good reason behind doin' this."

"Saving your life. And now it is my duty to finish that task." Doris is also quiet.

Blackett: "That will make sense in time, our society has rules... you... someone... broke them in regard to you.  Something had to be done"

Bal continues to be uncharacteristically reserved. But the look on his face suggests he's still got his own opinions on the matter.

"So, is this like some initiation or somethin'? The blood makes me privy to what y'all are?"

"Just saying what is being called! Do not treating her like the words are being poison! It is too late, too late--" Oh, boy, that's Cerriphan's voice.

The teacup clatters, as Lizzy was about to pick it up, but Cerriphan's voice startled her. Scooter immediately starts barking at Cerriphan, cuz innocent things don't pop out of nowhere!

Marcus' eyes widen a moment as he realizes what Doris has in mind, but he turns to answer Lizzy. "No, not exactly. The blood makes us stronger than mortals. You punched a wall a few minutes ago - your hand should be broken - yet it is not. The blood gives you a portion of our strength."

Barking dog! Cerriphan was standing in a place where she wasn't moments before, hands raising. "Oh, no, little doggy--"

"GOD DAMMIT, CERRIPHAN WHAT DID I-" And the protest dies on her lips. "...fuck. ALL my friends are dead." She then grabs the leash and gives it a firmer tug than she would have liked. Scooter yelps, then stops barking. But he's growling at Cerriphan. Oh yes. He doesn't like that Obfuscate nonsense.

Doris closes her eyes and turns her face to the ceiling as Cerriphan speaks. She looks like she is slowly counting to ten. Then counting to ten again. Perhaps ten is not enough numbers. Of all the expressions her face could choose, it is the infinite exasperation of Pepper Potts that settles across it. To Lizzy, it is the embodiment of #fuckmylife

"I think... right now... it is probably in my best interests to not do anythin' that would upset Mr. Gordon, because I suspect it would hurt. Again."

"No, Lizzy, we are not dead in any conventional sense of the phrase. We walk, we talk, we maintain our faculties. We have emotions. We eat - though for the most part, our diets are different than other people. Our cells regenerate more quickly than those of most as well. By almost eery measure - scientific or philosophical - we are very much alive.

"I shall be discussing that little fact with him when I meet with him next." There is the Tony Stark in this equation. Doris is mainly exasperated with Gordon. Everyone else is just in the blast radius.

Cerriphan's arms folded, looking away. "Just enough to making friends but not enough to being a part of the world; to risking it would meaning death. Masquerade is being our lives. Never for fun. Never lying because we are liking to." Despite all intents of seeming terrible, her big doe-like eyes still appeared very much the same. Just more haunted than she let on from before.

"Let *me* upset Marcellus, Elizabeth. That is what I am here for." Doris, trying to regain the full measure of her reasonable tone but falling just short. There is the usual woman Lizzy has worked for these past three years. Forever on the verge of exasperation.

"I don't want you to, Doris." Lizzy looks up at her boss, pained. "I really don't. It makes my heart ache even thinking of him in pain now. I just... I can't. And I can't allow it. Please don't." It's a pleading tone.

"I know, my heart, I know. But you can hear me, yes? You can understand that I have permission to do what he needs me to do. To keep you safe. So he does not have to hurt." Doris is talking sideways at the situation again, but there seems to be an intensity to her words. There is also a side-eye at Marcus as if to suggest "See? This is why I am against this shit."

Bal hears Lizzy and offers Doris a very serious look.

"That doesn't mean I have to like the fact that it's gonna upset him." Lizzy's still distressed, and Scooter is starting to worry a bit, waddling around a bit. He may also have to pee. Silly pupper.

Cerriphan was making a face of disapproval now, too.

"I promise you it will not. Elizabeth, except for the nature of my circulation disorder and dietary restrictions, have I *ever* lied to you?" There is an intense earnestness in Doris' voice. She does not have the gifts of the Ventrue or Toreador, just herself. She clearly hopes it will be enough.

He looks at Doris and shakes his head, faintly. "Lizzy, that is the blood talking. It has other effects... psychological effects. It produces very powerful feelings towards the person whose blood was consumed. It's effectively the same thing as was done to your brother."

"Yeah, but Angel was an abusive bitch, force-feeding him drugs. Mr. Gordon's been nothin' but kind to me. Misleadin', sure, but not out of malice."

"That makes it less terrible? Less of a violation?"

"Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly," Bal recites.

"Out of duty, Dear" Blackett looks at Doris, "No different than I would have done."

Doris: "Shut up, Giles."

Blackett: "I love you."

"And y'know what? It probably could've been any one of you in this room who would have done it, if it meant keepin' your secrets. I found the fridge in the bar, Doris. If I had confronted y'all, what were your options? Makin' me forget? Over and over and over again until some fuckup got me killed too? Hell, it was merciful in comparison."

"So." Lizzy sits back in her chair, not having realized she'd leaned into that last little rant. "What now?"

"I would have told you the truth." Simply. "And then we would have decided what to do from there. However, your choices are as follows: Remain as you are, a servant halfway between mortal and undead; accept my offer to open the door between where you are now and where I am and let me be your guide; give us permission to make you forget all of this and create a new life for you far away from this city and its troubles and all of the grief we have brought to you. There are variations on each option, but this is where we stand. I have bought all the time I can for the moment and not much at that, so I cannot offer you much of it to consider your choices.” Doris continues, still earnestly. "Help me. Please. The rest of you? Shut up or leave."

"Could one of you take Scooter on a walk before he pees on the nice lady's floor? And, like, please don't eat him?" Lizzy asks.

Cerriphan holds up her hands, "I could taking him...?"

He does a double take for a moment, clearly taken aback at the notion of eating Scooter. "Lizzy... we don't eat dogs. The civilized ones of us work to avoid harming people either." He gestures towards those assembled for a moment - even Bal -, before tentatively putting his hand on her shoulder again.

Bal nods at Cerriphan, staying, himself, as he's committed to seeing this through. "Go ahead, Cerri."

She held out a hand, for the leash, to take poor Scooter out.

"Not now, please," Lizzy says to Marcus, before handing over the leash to Cerriphan. "Anything happens to him, I will be really fuckin' upset."

There's a furrowing of brows there. "A walking and talking." She accepted the leash, then moved to work out the door.

He nods, before a sincere "So will I."

Doris clears her throat. She glances at the two men in the room in whom she has made considerable emotional investment as if this is not a moment she wanted to have them present for. Her attention remains on Lizzy, however. Shutting them out and away. "I am just a girl who was too good at singing for her own well-being. I attracted the wrong sort of attention. It was not a time where women like me had any protections. We were little better than...the correct term is sex workers, yes? Than that. Easy prey for all sorts of predators. Reverend Toliver...saved my life. He got me out of the city and to the woman who would become my guide into this other existence. I should have died centuries ago. Perhaps it might have been better if I did." She sighs."I did terrible things in my second childhood, things nobody should have to do. I want to spare you that, to find a way to keep you from being used as a weapon in someone else's war. Please. Help me."

By the end of the telling, Doris is kneeling on the floor in Lizzy's line of sight. Even in all the finery, she looks small and worried. But not hopeless. Not helpless.

Lizzy looks down at Doris and purses her lips. "I appreciate what you are trying to do.  I do. That said, I've been hit with a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Now..." She takes a deep breath. "I ain't goin' anywhere. This place is my home, no matter what's been done to it or why. But I can't just up and decide to become a vampire after one night. That's dumb. Stayin' with Mr. Gordon buys me more time to figure out exactly what I've gotten myself into."

"That was one avenue we discussed." Quietly.

"That said, I may need some help to make sure I don't end up like Jason... and that is where I'm gonna need y'all's help."

"Of course." Still quietly, but with conviction.

Marcus: "You know I'll help in any way I can."

"I don't immediately know what that's gonna look like, cuz, well, I don't know what I've gotten myself into fully." She makes a face. "But y'all do. I guess... just keep doin' what y'all've been doin'?"

Blackett quietly watches Doris’ display; his hands continue the ritual of the tea making. “That was her experience. Mine was quite different, my family still own our estates in Britain. Although according to the records I died over a century ago. My brother descendants now hold the title. My youth was spent following my Sire for over a decade. Not all upbringings are terrible.” He smiles weakly “there is much more information you would need to make a decision. But know... not making one even has repercussions on your future”

"I did not expect you to decide tonight. You are still my employee and he is going to have to deal with that regardless of what he has said to others. You are a critical asset to this space and that trumps all." Doris sounds...reassuring.

Lizzy looks up at Blackett. "I think I just did make a decision. I'm stayin' just as I am. That way, it leaves other options open to me if I change my mind later. I can't exactly go back to bein' alive from bein' dead, yeah?" Her voice sounds hollow, even as she tries to inject some cheer.

“This space is called Elysium, and is protected by its keeper, as I am the keeper of a similar space in Montreal” exhale “that is your decision but try for a moment and focus through the love you feel for His Majesty, to see if that is your true will.”

"His Majesty? He like royalty or somethin'?"

"Among our kind, yes, after a fashion" The answer is given quietly.

"I am the guardian of this place. I thought your working here would afford you some protection, as you are an extension of the space and therefore under my watch and ward and to violate that is to court censure at best...but my bright darling is who he is." Doris sighs, then gestures at her quasi-Roman Matron attire. The veil has slipped back slightly. Scandalous. "That includes the Vestal attire."

"You'll find we have a very dated sense of authoritarian hierarchy," Bal says, finally, and with as neutral a tone as he can manage (which is not very). "Doris, there's one additional variable you may wish to be aware of that may... inform your approach. But I can tell you later." He then turns his glance back to Lizzy. "If you want, we can also talk later, but I think you may be tired of hearing my voice after all that's happened, and I respect that." He then pushes himself from the wall, and tosses his cig into a nearby wastebin, preparing to leave.

Lizzy frowns, waving Bal off. It's unclear if she's going to show or not.

Marcus looks at her as Bal leaves "I know this has been a lot for you to take in. My introduction to this world was.... traumatic, to say the least - and not that long ago.  If you would like, I can take you home when Cerri returns with Scooter. I am certain that, under the circumstances, a day off tomorrow could be arranged?" He glances at Doris to confirm his suspicions about getting Lizzy a day to sleep in.(edited)

"Yes because an interruption in her schedule will not tip our hand whatsoever." The biting sarcasm is evident...and familiar. "Love, you will never win at your people's games if you keep thinking like me."

"Wait. Let me amend. If you keep thinking like me if I were an idiot."

"I don't have to be in until 2. I got plenty of time to sleep."

"Tomorrow most of the paperwork is my problem anyway. She can nap in the office. Or down here. Or I can kick Giles out and she can stay here with me and you boys can resume your flirtations with one another." Dryly amused, Doris levers herself to her feet. "Elizabeth and I can do girl things...whatever those are."

"That is certainly true." He offers Lizzy an arm "For now, though, Lizzy, may I escort you home?"

"I think I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight, if that's okay." She then looks up at Marcus. "When Cerriphan comes back with Scooter, yeah. And, uh, I'll pay for fixin' the wall," she adds sheepishly.

"Tch. I shall invoice Marcellus." The offer is waved away. "Nothing makes me happier than spending his money."

Marcus nods "I thought you might prefer that. I can stay - or not - whatever you would rather." A reassuring smile for Lizzy.

Lizzy: "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it."

"Wherever the boy is sent, I will only be an electronic message away if you have trouble sleeping. No matter the hour." All things considered, this is quite the offer. "Marcus, you and I and Giles have business to discuss tomorrow night. Three-handed whist will have to wait."

Marcus nods. "We can have a game after our business, I'm sure."

Blackett raises a single eyebrow and looks at Marcus and Doris, over a pronounced sip of tea. “Perhaps we should invite a fourth then.” He pauses “Please Lizzy, you do not know me, and I not so much you. Think of me as a trusted neutral party with little emotional stake beyond my care for these people.” He sweeps his hand across indicating the bar, etc not just this room. “You may not feel comfortable coming to them with certain questions. Think of me as a safe place you can come”

At this time Toliver walks in to the piano bar. Noticing the normal people he knows aren’t around, he heads to the conference room and enters. When he sees everyone in here and catching the tail end of the conversation, he says nothing but finds a chair and crosses his arms across his chest. Knowing full well someone will catch him up quickly.

The advent of the individual she just recently spoke of as guardian and rescuer causes an obscurely guilty expression to cross Doris' face. More like she has been caught kissing a boy on the sly than if she had done something more egregious. "Father," she murmurs, using the honorific. "We are resolving a situation."

"I gathered Ms. Ashview. Do you need to rehash things for me, or do I need to play along and determine who fucked up?"

"Bal fucked up." Lizzy frowns. "He's gonna try to talk around it and say I found out on my own, but I wouldn't have gone the route I did with it if he hadn't said 'no really do this thing trust me.' But it got handled on the sly." She waves. "I'll let them tell the rest."

Toliver gives a nod of understanding to Lizzy. "Thank you."

"I regret I must impose upon you regarding your kinfolk. To accomplish all I have been charged with, our friend with the mohawk must no longer be a problem and an accord must be reached." Doris reverts to being oblique. It must be her default setting, as there is no reason at this point to keep secrets.

"Well they have a bargaining chip or two, that Gordon may like. As for Jackie, the girl has spunk, but she is also writing checks that her ass can't cash. I will talk with Sarah about the matter."

"Sarah? Which Sarah?" She looks between the two of them.

"Someone named Sarah. Just don't need to reveal the entire world to you, Ms. McCory. At least not yet."

"Let us keep *some* of our mystique, my dear." Doris sounds amused. "Thank you. And yes, that should make a nice stat of getting my way with him. He wants peace. I want peace but on my terms. We are simply negotiating the details."

"Everyone wants peace, but the situation is fubar. I he wants an accord there will need to be a a bit of give and take on this. We will talk more about this, privately," he says. His tone has an edge to it, but it isn't sure if it is the situation he is talking about or the issue that he walked into here.

"Of course. I am at your disposal." Doris still has the air of a chastised daughter.

Blackett as an aside to Lizzy, "If it helps, I have no idea to whom they are refering to either."

Lizzy snorts, folding her arms. She seems to be at least returning to a recognizable Lizzy-state, as opposed to the scared animal from before.

"Is there tea I can drink, or shall I die of thirst?" There is a bit of pathetic whining under the tartness in Doris' voice.

"I can produce your tea if you wish." Blackett reaches under the counter for the special thermos and integrates it into his ritual for Doris specifically.

"Thank you, love." After watching Giles fuss with the tea for a few moments, Doris frowns slightly. "...did Cerriphn get lost?"

Toliver: "Doubtful. Cerriphan is always exactly where she needs to be at the right time."

Doris: "I wonder what she and Scooter are discussing..."

"She can talk to dogs?" Lizzy raises an eyebrow.

"She may think she can." Doris shrugs, then draws a lone circle in the air next to her head. "Her people are a bit...atypical. You may have noticed her odd speech patterns."

Blackett shrugs, and hands the "special tea" to Doris.  "Some of us can, each of our families have different strengths and weaknesses. For instance, I can hold a stick of dynamite in my hand and be fine... although my suit will never recover. Others, have various other amazing abilities. There is even a group of us that can sing you to death would you believe"

"Scooter and I are having coming to an understanding, but now I am having one less pair of shoes," Cerriphan announced at the door, leash in hand. And now she was barefoot.

"That is *literally* the least impressive thing I can do with my voice, Giles." Doris' quip is punctuated by a lengthy sip of tea.

Giles smirks at Doris and returns to Lizzy "The group you have... become associated with have a gift for being charming, physically resilient, and able to make others bend to their will.  You have a unique opportunity to choose which of these families you associate with going forward.  An opportunity many of us were not afforded."

"Cheap tricks, all of it." Cacophonist snobbery.

"Well dear, not all of us have a gift for showtunes. Some of us have to get by with the meager gifts that Caine have afforded us." he quips back.

"I am charming, resilient, and can bend others to my will by sheer force of personality." Smug. "Being good at singing just pays the rent."

Lizzy grimaces at the mention of Cerriphan missing a pair of shoes. "I will totally replace those shoes." She takes the leash and stares hard at Scooter. "Bad dog."

He whimpers, duly chastised.

"Of course you are Keeper Ashview, I do stick around after all..."

"You should watch what you say Mr. Blackett. Don't need to overwhelm Ms. McCrory anymore."

"I thought it was the other things I can do that keep you around..." Innuendo. So much innuendo. Mom stop. There was cougar leer enough left over for Marcus, too.

Cerriphan shook her head, "It is only having been fair, startling the Scooter when I was having appear-ing... again." She makes a face over at Doris, perfectly capturing the image of 'mom, stop.' She nervously began to wring her hands together again.

"And on that note..." Lizzy rises from her chair. Pointedly.

Toliver watches Lizzy's actions quietly. Marcus favours Doris with a grin, winks at Blackett, and rises - offering Lizzy his arm.

Lizzy hesitates a moment before taking Marcus' arm. Her grip shifts on the leash. "I'll be in for my shift tomorrow. For now, though, I just wanna go home."

"You know where I am." Doris gestures at the door behind her. It is not the door Lizzy came through.

The trash panda withers considerably, watching her. "...Bye, Lizzy-friend."

"Good evening, Ms. McCrory. If you need to look for options let me know. I know a few people."

Lizzy moves to comfort Cerriphan. There's a moment's hesitation, but eventually, she moves to kiss the other woman's forehead before heading up the stairs.

There's a small squeak and the withering becomes a small smile, hands clasping together as she watched the other go. A wistful look that grew more distant by the moment.

As soon as the poor mortal is out of sight, Doris drains her cup of tea, sets it carefully on the table, and then proceeds to ball up and hurl her gloves across the room. The method she uses suggests she does this often enough to know by rote how to achieve maximum aerodynamics.

"Well then. That was interesting. I take it Mr. Cruz has been Hunted if not Banished?"

"Neither." Doris flops into a chair in a rather charming sulk. It must be the dress and the jewelry. "He will be tasked to solve the Sabbat problem alongside me. I have been authorized to do what I must. Without parameters."

"The fate, then, of Lizzy? I am sure Gordon is fuming over the mess."

"I have bought some time and space. We bring him peace between your clan and the Tower, I have more leverage. I will be inquiring as to other ways to restore her Libertas." Doris the Anarch.

"Which Tower? As I know Sarah tows the Camarilla party line the best she can, as does Baxter. Jackie is a sparkplug. point her in the right direction then it gets handled in some fashion."

"Specifically, Gordon Tower, but by extension, the party. So long as we ensure he does not lose face, we shall escape any sort of meaningful censure. He is far more reasonable than his patron, Lucinde." Doris shrugs, then adds somewhat obliquely. "I have spared Marcus as much as I could. He is fond of Elizabeth. That should not be poisoned. I have seen too many partnerships soured."

"The two are not exclusive to each other, Doris, and you know it. Marcus is just another piece on Gordon's chess board.  It is about time we change the game to something else, before he gets a grandiose idea of becoming like the Scottish play itself. As that just ends in tragedy for those involved."

"I am no Lady Macbeth, Father. We are all pieces on the board, even me. But I can move in several directions whereas the rest of you do not have that luxury. He did not say about which of his current list of concerns I am free to do what I must. So I am choosing all of them. Including Elizabeth." Doris smirks. "I was going to speak to Doctor Marsden about her peculiar talents, for starters."

"Oh? I am intrigued in her skills as well. As I am curious if she could do something that may be of benefit for your peace of mind over this affair."

"We may have the same idea. Tell me yours."

"I sense she will be bound to someone as part of her lease on life. I'd rather have her have some sort of choice and life. Just one where she knows where we exisit. So when it is time she can truly choose her fate, and not be forces on a board of directors with Papa Gordon at the head of the table."

"You are a step behind. There are things to undo before they can be done up again." Doris drums her fingertips on the table.

"I honestly think we are all a little behind, since Bal's need to blab his mouth. Now it is all damage control."

"We had a shout about it, Gordon and I. He did not accept my resignation." More drumming of her fingers on the table.

"Resignation or a declaration that you are promoting yourself to a higher station?"

"Resignation. I will not stay where I cannot be trusted to manage the affairs placed in my care." There is an undercurrent of simmering resentment.

"Just making sure."

"I require a different sort of lever for that move. I suggested it would solve a few problems, however." Doris snorts. "A jointly-held throne would silence or lessen the impact of the radical."

"Not if the radicals think you are in the pocket of the traditionalist. Something I am slowly fixing."

"We now lack the luxury of time." The Siren's brooding sulk switches sides of the chair.

"You would think. Honestly what is happening out there and what he wants are two separate but parallel things. We keep on do what we do, and get things done. Make sure people get rewarded for their actions, and not just the boot lickers Gordon has. We do what we always do: adapt, excel, and survive."

"The longer we delay, the more influential his hold on her." Doris is not pleased. "Someone should have spoken to me before times."

"Well then we work double time to fill gaps. Time to get people on board as well, quickly. I will make a call to a friend for some help as well. He wants to play games and power trips, well I got a few friends in high places as well."

"Go softly. Back him into a corner in front of the Council and we shall have an entirely different problem. Understood?"

Toliver - Today at 2:54 PM

"Consider it an Official investigation. I maybe loud, but I know to be observant and quiet when I need to be."

"So long as I do not have a cornered lion on my hands in the end. He vexes me, but I do rather like his management style most of the time."

"He needs to learn to be more flexible and relax. Rome wasn't built in a day, and he should know that."

"We have two years before this city becomes the front lines. Our days are numbered."

"The city is a front line, has been well before I arrived. It is just small maneuvers and actions. Kindred need to get used to it, as a police state will not help."

"We do not care about us. We care about them." Doris waves a hand at the Lizzy-shaped void in the room.

"Oh I know Doris, that is a given. It is also an issue if member of the camrilla can't grow or function due to a petty despot who believes this is England under Mithras during the Victorian era."

"He is not idly called Baron of Glasgow." Doris coughs politely.

"I am aware. The New World has no time for that bullshit, and you know it. It is why the Movement thrives here."

"We all have our burdens. His are more awkwardly shaped." Doris sighs. "I need to think, Father. May I have the rest of the night to myself?"

He stands up and comes to her to give her a comforting hug. "Of course, Doris. May the rest of your evening give you peace." With that he leaves her to her own devices.

The hug is stood for and welcomed. Then she resumes brooding.