[Jericho]

The Bird Cage was one of Jericho's favourite haunts — and not at all because the evening acts were all on the risque side. He didn't actually find the dancers all that appealing.

However, here, he was just another man spending a few hours ogling a few well-toned legs and smartly-designed costumes. Here, he could associate with whomever he pleased without fear of drawing needless attention. Here, he could meet a business contact, slide a few bills across the table with the latest trending drink, and make it all look completely innocent — insofar as any Cage patron could look innocent when drooling into their beers.

He was currently seated at a table framed on two sides by thin walls painted to look like broad-leaved trees, affording he and his contact a modicum of privacy. The sharp, needle-like leaves of a real plant kept irritating his neck and forcing him to brush the greenery aside every few minutes, but he figured it was a small price to pay for a place to discuss business of a... delicate nature.

“Are you sure your contact has access to the stables? There's a wildcrafter who owes me some money and isn't particularly well liked by the law in his town, so acquiring his services shouldn't be too difficult or damaging, but if your man doesn't have the opportunity then we're really only blowing steam here.”

[Alain]

Alain raised a brow at the shaded man. “With the man's smell? I'd prefer a Zanaryan's natural scent first.” While such experiences with Zanaryans were far from pleasant, there was only so much a change of clothes could've done for the hostler's own smell. The magistrate would have asked for the man to be directed to the nearest bath before the meeting, but Alain knew he would have to close the area off for a time. What he did not know was who changed the once unconscious stableman. He didn't want to know.

“His memories of his time in the stables were more than vivid enough for me to know the truth; Of course, you only have my word for that matter,” he said after a short pause from his last statement.

The magistrate took a quick sip of his drink as he finished his sentence. A sweet, lightweight drink, rather than the commonly sold cocktails around the Birdcage, though he certainly felt need for one after the day he had. He was in no situation to be legless, he reminded himself. Not yet, anyway. Luckily, he wasn't likely to bring attention in the relatively enclosed area, where curious eyes might catch the pair. Or their ears for their topic of discussion, which was something he'd wanted least, hence the location. Alain had kept his thoughts from the matter thus far, as he always had to in Elysia. Keep your mind too open, and you never know who might walk in.

That, or he was just being too catious. Clara would've definitely made a comment about his behaivour. Just have a drink, and relax a little. You're letting the tiredness talk too much. She was always the more sensible one. He groained wearily in his mind, but then took a glance out to their surroundings before turning his attention back to the man before him.

The Birdcage, while not one of Alain's most frequent choices for pleasure, was an appreciated one. Especially for business. If someone looked around them carefully, they might find the signs of all sorts of dealings in the location, from the common meeting to the darker deals one could make. After all, what better place to hide, than right in front of everybody? There were a few recognizable faces in the Birdcage when he entered the Proper, though they ostentatiously ignored him and focused on their own conversations. He made a point of openly dropping a greeting by one or two of them earlier, albiet quietly. While his own location was a reasonably private spot in the area, though, he still kept a look towards such patrons, just to make sure everything was where it – or rather, they – were where they belonged.

He'd need Jericho to trust him before the pair would be able to further discuss business, or the wildcrafter. The man's prescence in the Birdcage was a good enough sign of interest, at least. It'd more than earn the cost, if they could pull his plan off.

[Jericho]

“Hmm.” Jericho sat back in the comfortable dashiri leather armchair and sipped his drink to afford himself a moment to think. He had opted to wear his sunglasses to hide his expressions even though the Birdcage was already dimly lit. The carefully Shaped shevrocks that took centre stage on each table were for mood lighting only, so it was really dark behind the shades. Since Alain Moreaux was a telepath who might manage to sneak a glimpse or two past Jericho's shields anyway, he took them off and folded them, leaning forward to place them on the table next to glass.

“I do not conduct business on word alone. You understand.” He gestured vaguely at the blue-eyed Dracovarian seated next to him, his lips twitching in what passed for a smile. The man was a magistrate, so he must be more cautious than ever. Still, Alain had proven himself in the past to be open to... ah, persuasion. From scans during previous meetings, Jericho was confident that he was the stronger telepath, so he would know if he was being tricked. If the Red Warden betrayed him, he would take the Peteulanus with him. This seemed like an honest proposal to circumvent the law, and one which Jericho agreed could be quite profitable.

Decision made, Jericho settled back in his chair again. “What exactly will he your man require for this job? Does he plan to sabotage the other contenders, or would he prefer to, shall we say, boost our choice instead?”

[Alain]

Alain watched the man before him thoughtfully settle into his seat. Confronting the issue of trust this early into the deal was a definite risk, but it had to be done. Either he would go forward with their discussion, or he wouldn't. If not, Alain would merely have to keep an eye out for any sale of information. He was always wary of loose ends. The calculated risks and profits of the endeavour, would likewise have to be considered by businessman sitting across from him. He smiled. Professionalism worked well for this man.

Then the Jericho took off his shades, revealing a pair of piercing blue eyes. Alain's smile slightly widened. While others might have taken it as a sign of trust, Alain took it as just a reassurance in why he chose to meet the man. Regardless, he was unsure of the man's power in his Sept, which was a slight cause of concern. There were some who relied on their powers to function daily, often even speaking through the mind. However, more practical Peteulanus, such as himself, merely used to as a tool to use when the time was ripe preferring to use their own mind and speech for human contact. In this meeting, any such use on either's part would only expedite their deal, so it would be practical, but using telepathy might draw the wrong kind of attention in the location, as well. Alain was sure Jericho hadn't earned his reputation as one of those who was too reliant on one power, though, so that dismissed his concerns regarding whether the man met his reputation as a businessman. Things would definitely move forward, then. Nevertheless, he kept in mind that there was always somebody ready to make a deal, and someone else ready to cheat him.

“Well, the Colliseum turned out to be a bit less secure than I first expected. As the caretaker of the mounts, the hostler has access to most of their equipment and medical records. Such things, you understand, that might bring up an excuse for certain events during the race.” Accidents and bribery were always in sports. The trickier part was proving that they weren't accidents, and who to point to. The hostler had use yet, in such a plan. No one would be surprised to hear of a recently tried man making a mistake due to stress or partaking in another crime. “It also turns out the examiners for the horses weren't as honest as people had thought, either.”

“As for our man, he'd also have access to their feed, and I expect that if your wildcrafter could transport anything that might boost a mount's performance, we might be in luck.”

[Jericho]

Jericho stroked his chin thoughtfully, frowning as his five o'clock shadow rasped across his palm. He disliked shaving himself and could never seem to get the straight razor close enough without nicking the skin, but he had yet to find a barber in Corantha as good as the one he had left behind when he fled Hesia.

“I think my wildcrafting friend is better suited to sabotage and things of that nature, but I'm sure he knows of something that will give our horse an advantage. Perhaps a little of both to be on the safe side, though that could lead to trouble. More evidence, so to speak, and the more animals your man has to... ah, influence, the more chance there is for him to be caught in the act.”

Falling silent as a lithe Nymph in a peacock costume approached their table with fresh drinks, Jericho pretended to focus on the dancer on stage. He even let his mouth gape slightly. As soon as she was gone, he took a sip from his glass. “When are you proposing to do this? There are races every Sunday, like clockwork, but not all of them are horses. Can your man do his job with something else?”

[Alain]

Alain had given a brief nod as the nymph gave the two men their drinks, gingerly placing each new glass on the table and taking up what glasses had been finished. Strangely, she seemed a bit stiff as she politely smiled at the pair and took her leave. He nodded in return, but then concentrated as she turned away, opening a Sight that gave way to his inner eye and third ear, just slightly so that he could peer into the Nymph's mind. It didn't take long to find out what was going on, and as a result he only just followed Jericho's words as he relaxed and returned to a normal state of mind, the Sight rushing away like Earth's seagulls took flight. Though, it was only harder to stifle a chuckle and focus on the conversation at hand as it faded, but the reminder of the seriousness of the topic easily did just that as Jericho inquired about the day for the rigging and further details into the matter.

“The heavy traffic on Sunday will make it easiest to pull this off, and any extra money put into the bets will be less noticable as a result. However, our only chances for this are during the horse and pegasi races, as those two are the only animals our man handles.”

Alain had half-raised his glass after he finished speaking, barely stopping himself before he noticed certain faces turned their way. While the interior was dark and vague, there wasn't room for error...and he needed to check his drink. Perhaps his friends from before were interested in paying him back his favor of dropping by his table.

“By the way”, Alain began with a mischievous glint in his eye, still inspecting his glass as he spoke, “the lass who just served us seemed quite smitten with you.”

-= OOC =--

Spoiler

I'm sorry, troublemaking is my hobby. ;(

[Jericho]

OOC: That's quite all right.

“Hmm.” Jericho took a sip of his drink, placed the glass carefully on the table, sat back in his seat and tugged on the lapel of his jacket to straighten it. “I prefer pegasi myself. Most equines have a certain grace about them, but the pegasi are such majestic creatures and their ability to fly makes their races so much more interesting.” He had been to a few pegasi races, both in and out of the Empire, and had been surprised by the differences. Pegasi at the coliseum used to be kept at ground level to do a flat circuit just like their wingless kin, but when an Anyelos took over organisation of the races, everything changed. The feather-brains thought much more three dimensionally so the races now included obstacles based on altitude as well as speed and distance. The impact on the crowd was tangible and the tiers were always packed for the pegasi races. Of course, that was partly because the manager kept the pegasi on a short leash so their races were infrequent and planned weeks in advance. Jericho admired the business strategy: Keep the clientele wanting more.

They would have to wait until next Sunday for the next planned race if they went with the pegasi, rather than going ahead right away. That meant there was more chance of being found out, but the profit would be that much higher. It was also easier to sabotage pegasi, or to give their candidate that necessary boost, as even one minor mistake or advantage could mean all the difference when navigating the course.

Jericho reached for his glass, but paused mid-way as something pricked at his brain. It was the tell-tale sign of someone testing his shields. He immediately looked at Alain as the man spoke of some woman being smitten with him, idly glancing toward the Nymph he indicated, as if out of curiosity. She was certainly beautiful if he looked at her objectively, but she was too curvy.

Dismissing her easily, he looked at Alain again, his eyes narrowing as he nudged at the other man's mental shields. Assured that his would-be business partner was not the culprit, he tested others in the vicinity, trying to track down who was attempting to muscle in on their private meeting. “Were you expecting company, Mister Moreaux?”

[Alain]

Alain looked at Jericho sharply for the question, not missing the distinct disturbance he had from having one's mind intruded on. “I'm afraid that in my line of work, company often finds me, whether I am ready for it or not.” Not that he was innocent of dropping in of others, of course.

Alain briefly went through his mind on the number of possible culprits to any intrusions on his meeting before selecting two. There was always the Syndicate, but they were already funding him for this operation.

“Alexandria place is crawling with would-be theives and telepaths that would do just about anything for a quick xanthos but there are a few names I could think of that operate within this area frequently. For one, there was Elias Thornton, who likes to scam traveling businessmen for fake goods that can be sold for 'even higher' given the willing buyer. The trick is finding a buyer, of course, but he can be very convincing to some.

"The other, far more likely telepath would be Giles Cobham, who would be the strapping young man with the horrible taste in Solomon furs sitting on the far left side of the stage. You'd think he would use his powers to earn him real money, but instead he spends his time trying to find a either a rich or influential person, preferably both, to help him get a job with the magistry. As the yuppie's father refuses to refer him for the position, he might've been hoping our meeting was one between colleagues.”

Alain wouldn't put it past him to try to muscle in his way into the meeting. He knew Giles despised him for declining him a refferal to become a junior magistrate, but he could just take a number and get in line if he wanted to dispute it. It wasn't like he was the first arrogant child Alain refused the position. He looked meaningfully at his glass before continuing the conversation. A weak poison for discomfort-- likely Bloodroot, but Alain couldn't tell for sure -- was already reason enough for Alain to talk some sense into the young man.

“If he has given you any trouble, I suppose we, or just me, could pay him a visit that Daddy wouldn't mind.”

[Jericho]

“Trouble? Not at all.” Jericho's lips twitched in a would-be smile but his eyebrows were drawn down, giving him an almost mischievous look for a fraction of a second. He was confident the intruder had not garnered anything to use against him. The 'trouble' was more about his personal convenience: If he let this telepathic brush slide, there was nothing to stop the man from trying again.

Besides that, Alain Moreaux was currently in his employ. Or, at the very least, a partner. (Jericho could not even fathom that he might be the one working for Alain instead.) Should either of the men the magistrate mentioned catch wind of their machinations or their relationship, there would definitely be 'trouble' of a sort. At best, Jericho would lose a contact and have to forge new ties with other magistrates, which would take time and run the risk of him stumbling into an honourable Warden. At worst, he would have to leave town once again.

No, well. At worst, he would be arrested, stripped of his assets and his bodyguards, and exiled alone to survive the wilderness and all its monstrosities both bipedal and otherwise. Jericho suppressed a shiver.

“Let us... have words with your friend.” Jericho's eyebrow twitched, indication of his amusement. First, however, he would have to actually determine which of the two men were responsible for the intrusion. Elias Thornton certainly had a mind simmering with ideas and possibilities (and business strategies Jericho found interesting; he made a mental note to approach the man about some of those later), but he wasn't the culprit.

At first, he didn't believe the vapid Giles to be, either: his head was filled with bare leg and the paper bill he was thrusting up toward a dancer who had clearly lost her patience with his drooling. Then, when she snatched up the money and stalked off the stage, Giles' diversion was briefly gone and he settled back to probe once again at Jericho's shields.

“Hello.”

Giles stiffened, as if someone had shoved a long pole up his backside all of the sudden. His neck twisted so he could shoot Jericho and Alain a startled look over his shoulder. When he found the devious half-smile on Jericho's lips, he stiffened even further and then crooked a finger into the air. When two winged bodyguards — Skotadi, by the look of them — melted from the shadows, Jericho's smile became a full-blown grin and he stood to tug on his lapel. “After you, Mister Moreaux.”

[Alain]

“I must thank you for your courtesy later.” he began to Jericho, purposely leaving the man's name from mention, and then turned to Giles. He didn't know if Giles already had the information, and he certainly didn't care. No matter how much information Giles collected, he always forgot the most important factor of having it—power to act on it. In this case, he had hired bodyguards, or rather, thugs, by his side as a threat. Alain might've been able to take them many years before, but the fact was, he couldn't now. Not that he needed to, despite how much he wanted to assault the man before him. “You can call off the hired muscle, Giles, I'm not here to throw you through another window. The view here is fine as it is.”

Giles stiffened further—as if it were possible, into a statue sitting in his chair. Not only was he snuck up on by one poker-faced man in a black suit, but the man he was hoping to temporarily eliminate was right before him. Meanwhile, Alain briefly considered whether to back up, just in case he called his personal thugs on him. Giles was at least intelligent enough to understand the consequences, though, and instead tried to give his best look of imposing authority as he waved off his Skotadi guards, who impressively vanished within the shadows near Giles.

“What is it that you want Moreaux? I'm already surrounded by enough scum in this place as it is.” he said, not considering the irony of his own mention of scum.

“Well, I was with my colleague here doing business when an unsightly interruption came my way. Someone was trying to intrude on our minds and poison my drink. And there are only a few people in this room who could do such a thing, most of which standing right here.” He paused for a moment, as he often liked to. It always felt like he was adding weight to his words. “So now I've come to you, wanting to know what it is that you want. Surely you know the punishment for trying to drug a magistrate, don't you?”

Alain fixed him with a hard stare as he finished his not-so-subtle threat to Giles. He knew Giles didn't have guts to poison him, at least not without the proper backing, so he must've received a confident supplier for such things. That could prove useful in the future, if the person doing the poisoning wasn't as poor at it as Giles was—which was just punishable on general principle. Of course, their current plans already had such a role fulfilled, but it was always useful to have another supplier for such things, if not for future endeavors. For now, it was just a matter of getting that information from Giles, as Alain knew exactly what to do with information. It was his job, after all. For now, all he and Jericho needed to do was apply a bit more pressure until Giles eventually broke down. That was partly why he was never given the job, as he just didn't have the personality for it.

[Jericho]

“Oh, come now. You'll upset our hosts.” Jericho didn't care if the Nymphs got upset at being called scum (surely they had heard worse), but his response certainly seemed to make the amateur telepath recognise his mistake. The irony of Giles' words didn't go unnoticed, either, and Jericho twitched a would-be smile at his companion that twitched even wider at the magistrate's words.

“Pray tell how you came to throw a man through a window, Mister Moreaux. I find the thought fascinating.” Alain may even understand why the thought appealed to him: Not merely because this Giles fellow rubbed him the wrong way and had invaded his privacy, but because the threat of being used bodily to smash glass was one many of his own clients would fear. He could quite easily imagine the indecision on their faces as they tried to judge Rusty's size and strength against the odds of surviving unscatched.

Setting down his drink, Jericho planted a hand on Giles' shoulder and squeezed, silently urging the man to scooch over and make room for them. He sat on one side, gesturing with a hand to invite Alain to sit on the other so they could trap the wannabe magistrate on the plush bench. He kept the bodyguards in his peripheral awareness, but he was confident he could bring them down with a well-placed touch if need be — though he was less confident there wouldn't be collateral damage if he had to unleash the pain untargeted.

“Would you care for another drink, Mister Cobham?” Giles' eyes widened. He looked nervous, squeezing himself into as small an area as possible so he wouldn't have to touch them. Jericho's lips twitched again. Yes, a stranger knows your name. Courtesy of Alain, of course; Jericho tipped his glass in the Red Warden's direction. What else do I know?

[Alain]

Alain maintained silence as his company took his own turn intimidating Giles, and hesistated a moment as Jericho gestured for him to join him on Giles's other side. The Skotadi were right nearby, though, fidgeting as Jericho moved toward their master. Under normal circumstances, the two Dracovari would've been gutted just for approaching their employer, especially after Jericho went as far as to touch Giles. You just didn't do such things to the high-born, not that Alain ever cared, when given the opportunity. However, the two Skotadi bodyguards should've cared, but instead Alain peered into the shadows to find them passing off indifference in the situation. Unsure of what to peg the situation for, he opted to explore their minds as Jericho just finished his gesture for him to join him in encasing Giles between two fellow Dracovari. They seemed to be struggling between upholding their reputation as bodyguards between the danger of approaching the pair. The two Skotadi knew a little about the well dressed Dracovari beside their employer, and enough about the former guard-now magistrate to keep a respectable distance—unless the pair threatened their master's body any further. Ironically, one of the bodyguards seemed to be even enjoying the situation...

Allowing his pause and gaze to linger just long enough to appear a respectful glance to the Skotadi, he took a seat next to Giles. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. Plus, this was his game, to allow his target to alternate between nervousness and relaxation. Similar to a snake, it allowed him a tighter grip around his opponent, which would be a weasel, in this case. At the very least—the blonde Dracovari had better not think of himself as close to one of his ancestors. He returned Jericho's movement of his glass with an accepting nod before speaking.

“Believe it or not, the story you're curious about actually entails about the fact that Giles could always go for another drink. Unfortunately, I don't think this is the place for getting too far into the details, but Giles's talent for drinking is extraordinary. Isn't that right, Giles?”

"O-Of course! No one can outdrinks one of the nobility, we get only the best in our homes."

Alain ignored the comment regarding the false sense of nobility. Most of Alexandria's higher class tended to think of themselves as such, but Alain knew true nobility, in his day. Few, if any, ever fit the bill. Regardless, he would allow Giles a small amount of comfort before making his point. “Quite true. I believe in this case I was nearby when it was a...Therian? Yes. A Therian who challenged Giles here--”

"A fairly large one, too," Giles said.

“--Yes, and he challenged you to a drinking contest, if I remember right. Then you happened to give him a new drink. One that was quite a bit stronger than what he had until then.”

Giles began taking in sporadic bursts of air that could hardly be called a chuckle towards the Alain's sentence, unexpectedly interrupting him once more. Alain hadn't met the Elysian equivalent of what it reminded him of—but it certainly reminded him of a hyena. Alain just wished that maybe he was just acting the fool then, but couldn't be sure of that. It literally took more than five seconds before Giles chimed in—right as Alain was deciding whether to continue telling the story regardless. "He...he was such a stupid vlareon that he didn't even notice until he was out cold on the ground!"

“Right...and he'd gone just a bit beyond his own means, as I recall. Sort of like you did just now...”

A second passed by, and Giles face showed that he assumed that Alain was just taking one of his overly dramatic pauses. Then another second passed by. Then he caught on to the underlying threat, given the Therian had died from overexposure to alcohol. He quickly glanced nervously to the other Dracovarian. He'd obviously forgotten to keep an eye on that wild card amidst his laughter...

[Jericho]

OOC: I'm so sorry. I don't why but I keep forgetting about this thread when I run through my checklist.

Jericho's interest in the story was only mildly feigned. One never knew when a tidbit like this - that Giles was essentially a murderer, as it turned out - would prove useful, and in this case he was glad he kept half an ear on what the pair were telling him. More interesting was the fact that Giles found it so funny even knowing he was speaking to a magistrate and an unknown. As far as he knew, they were entrapping him, but he was either completely blithered or a very good actor.

Jericho decided to see which. When Giles began to laugh, almost hysterically and most certainly annoyingly, Jeri speared into the man's mind. It was possible to get around even a good mental shield if the target was distracted enough. He might not get far, but just the man's surface thoughts may be enough to trip him up or gain access to the deeper, darker things. Though it seemed Alain already had more than enough to blackmail the man, at this rate.

The laughter stopped, and Jericho found himself squarely back in his own mind. It seemed that Giles had realised his mistake; the walls coming up bore a striking resemblance - complete with watchtowers, albeit unmanned in this case - to those surrounding New Alexandria, no doubt where the 'nobleman' set his home for nowhere but the inner circle of Elysia's capital could be considered noble or beautiful enough for a man of his station.

“Had an interesting chat with Mister Thanatos earlier, did you? Alain, my friend.” Jericho smiled at the Red Warden. Though tight from rare use, it was genuine. “Our man here came here direct from a meeting with the Chief Magistrate. I wonder what might have been said. It seems the Red Wardens are recruiting and Mister Cobham here believes himself in with a chance. How say you, my friend? Do you think he qualifies or was Mister Thanatos merely flattering the poor boy?”