Café de Nuit

Mercator turns to Lia as she addresses him. "Professor. I trust you were successful in recovering the box, then?"

When she offers the force field to carry the unfortunate Monsieur Boucher, Mercator shrugs, taps the disk, and then sits on it to test it. "It's not ideally shaped...his legs will dangle. But it's certainly a good start. All we'll have to do is support his feet. Yes. This will do nicely. Thank you, Professor Mourneswaith."

"Don't follow him," Nerit called to the others grimly. She noticed the box was gone from the cat's back as it slipped away.

She also noticed Gauvain below but, being that she was already considerably sobered by this experience, did not react in a visible way.

Now to get down from the roof.

=====

Nerit managed it with both minimal embarrassment and minimal grace, and said nothing of it when she joined with the others.
"Where is Rex?" she asked no one in particular while wiping her hands together. She did not ask about Thierri.

Dr. Melanchthon wrote:"Please do not exert yourself in the slightest. Do not even sit up."

It was an excellent thing that Dr. Melanchthon said that when he did. The caution came mere milliseconds before Thierri nearly had the soul squeezed out of him again, due to an extraordinarily vigorous Celeste hug. You had never actually seen Celeste hug anyone before, and it was uniformly impressive—more so due to the fact that, thanks to Mercator’s advice, she somehow managed to do it horizontally.

…At which point she realized the panoramic array of connotations connoted by that particular gesture, sprang back up to a sitting position with remarkable alacrity, spent around a quarter second resolutely not looking at the crowd of people and police inspector within three feet of her while recalculating what her appropriate response should have been, then giving up and shaking Thierri’s hand with as much emotion as humanly possible. Which involved more emotion than you would have expected.

“Oh, Sir…Sir; M. Boucher, you live! You are returned from the cold bosom of Eternity, even as Orpheus found himself—but oh, more fortunate yet than Orpheus, in that your friends and comrades and…” [MOMENTARY CONSPICUOUS PAUSE] “…that they should all be there to welcome you once again to the fold! And that you should relinquish such phenomenal power, terrible yet enticing as it no doubt must have seemed, to effect such a miraculous resurgence… Oh, M. Boucher, poets must sing of you for ages to come! Chroniclers must catalog your deeds as an example to future generations! I must organize some manner of féte! A small gathering, so as not to disturb your noble recuperations—how do you feel regarding performances upon the pianoforte, Sir?—ah! Inspector Gauvain! Our fellow-lodgers! How fare you upon this most triumphant of nights, Mesdames and Messieurs?”

Celeste beamed at the rest of everybody, having just registered that she should probably acknowledge them at some point.

"I don't mean to put a slight damper on the situation, considering for once everything worked out...but shouldn't we find Rex and Remy? They do seem to be a bit absent." Kerrian said, looking around as the others rejoined the group. Never mind it would give an excuse to get away from certain unexpected company. As helpful as he was, a certain government aligned individual couldn't help but be...creepy.

Rue Vervain Rookery, Quartier-Ouvrier, Night of April 24th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

yalenusveler wrote:"I don't mean to put a slight damper on the situation, considering for once everything worked out...but shouldn't we find Rex and Remy? They do seem to be a bit absent."

“I'm here.” A familiar, somewhat disgruntled voice sounded. There was a faint glimmer of light, and Prof. Lessard stepped into existence. He had only just arrived, and he was breathing heavily, his usually pale face flushed. “I managed to get turned around, but nothing's damaged except my dignity. Did we get the box back?”

The Whistler wrote:It was an excellent thing that Dr. Melanchthon said that when he did. The caution came mere milliseconds before Thierri nearly had the soul squeezed out of him again, due to an extraordinarily vigorous Celeste hug. You had never actually seen Celeste hug anyone before, and it was uniformly impressive—more so due to the fact that, thanks to Mercator’s advice, she somehow managed to do it horizontally...

“Oh, M. Boucher, poets must sing of you for ages to come! Chroniclers must catalog your deeds as an example to future generations! I must organize some manner of féte! A small gathering, so as not to disturb your noble recuperations—how do you feel regarding performances upon the pianoforte, Sir?—ah! Inspector Gauvain! Our fellow-lodgers! How fare you upon this most triumphant of nights, Mesdames and Messieurs?”

Thierri smiled weakly up at Celeste, though he said nothing before sliding gently into sleep. Or possibly before being rendered unconscious by Celeste's exceedingly vigorous hugs and handshakes. It would have taken a stronger and healthier man than Thierri Boucher was just now to withstand the full might of Celeste.

Gauvain watched this happy scene for a few moments longer. Then, without so much as a word of parting, he whirled and stalked away. Soon, he was nothing more than a shadow in the distance, and then he rounded a corner and was gone. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, or just a glimmering of an overwrought imagination, infected by the excitement of the last few days, but you thought you saw the faintest hint of a smile on those bloodless lips as the Marquis of Montmort departed.


Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Early Morning of April 25th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


It was a largely exhausted company that returned to the Chateau Malchance in the small hours of the morning. It was that deepest part of the night, when everyone is asleep, when dreaming and rest is the only order of the hour. The last carousers had gone home, the earliest workers had not yet awoken, and the city was quiet and peaceful in its slumber.

This did not prevent there from being a light showing in the window of the Chateau Malchance, however. You arrived inside and hung up your various coats to find the Blackwoods sitting in the kitchen, a pot of tea brewing despite the late hour. Both the Mordentish residents looked exhausted and with far, far too little sleep, but they were still waiting for you when you arrived. Nor were they alone. Perrine sat in the corner as well, occupying the large, upholstered chair that Prof. Lemercier usually claimed as his own, swaddled in blankets. A scrawny, brown-haired girl with a dusting of freckles, she looked half-asleep as well, though she perked up as you entered.

“Thierri!” Richard said, spotting the recumbent figure on Lia's disc. “You, you met with success? What happened?”

"A great deal," Lia replies succinctly. "I shall refer you to Mlle. Viardot for the details. Now."

Lia turns to Nerit and bestows a level look upon the Nun. "Who the blazes is this 'Sodale', and why has he, or it, been interfering with us in the form of a black cat?"

As soon as Nerit has given her answer, whatever it may be, the Mage turns to Perrine. "And so we finally come to you. I hope I speak for all of us when, despite the apparent lateness of the hour, I insist on hearing what you have been up to in the recent past, and more importantly, why."

Nerit merely smiled and eyed Lia with a level gaze. "Sodalis is Your Friend. Sodale is You, Friend."

The apparent amusement faded quickly as she made heartfelt greetings to the Blackwoods and Perrine.

"I would amend the Magistra by saying that you are not in trouble here, and you should feel free to speak your whole mind," the nun added kindly to Perrine.

Rock wrote:"And so we finally come to you. I hope I speak for all of us when, despite the apparent lateness of the hour, I insist on hearing what you have been up to in the recent past, and more importantly, why."

"Mademoiselle is here as a guest, Professor," Mercator says quietly but firmly. "The immediate crisis is past; whatever was to befall, it must have been done by midnight, and so it has either been forestalled...or not. Given that we have no such spur to our actions, it behooves us ill indeed to insist on a prolonged narrative at this time of night."

Nodding at Perrine, he says, "I do not mean to imply that your story is not of great interest, and potentially of great assistance, to us. It may well be. I hope it is. I will certainly be eager to hear it, now or later."

Smiling at Richard, he says, "Yes. We were successful. Or have been, so far. M. Boucher will certainly need a period of convalescence, but the immediate danger is past. Professor, if you could direct your platform upstairs, so we can put M. Boucher to bed? M. Prescott, perhaps we might consult briefly on a course of treatment?"

It wasn't until Nerit's pun that Rex made his presence known again. Some might have noticed him during the return trip, but he made no effort to draw attention to himself. He had little reason to. He was still new to the Chateau and hadn't developed the relationships others had. He supposed few of them cared about his well-being, let alone realized he still lived there.

"One would think," he said quietly, "that a cat would be more attentive." The pharmacist sat down on one of the armchairs. He pulled the box out of his jacket and set it down on his lap. "Sodale, I am almost disappointed how easy it was."

Mercator wrote:"M. Prescott, perhaps we might consult briefly on a course of treatment?"

"Of course," Rex tucked the box away again, "I can fetch the proper tinctures from my shop tomorrow."

Prof. Mourneswaithe wrote:"A great deal," Lia replies succinctly. "I shall refer you to Mlle. Viardot for the details. Now."

"Oh!" Celeste colored a good bit, upon realizing that summarizing the night would involve, you know, summarizing the night. There followed a brief pause as, in the interest of Mixed Company, she attempted to edit out all of the most important things.

"...The ritual! Ah, it was an unparalleled success--with no injury to either party!--and executed with both human consideration and arcane talent. And Inspector Gauvain was present to provide moral counsel, and a number of our party pursued a cat, and retrieved a box thereby, the which was presented to us by Professor Theroux. It was most productive! And T-- ...M. Boucher is resting at present, but shall make a full recovery as he has been emancipated from his Dread Office. You should have been there!"

Celeste grinned in the manner of someone who was hoping nobody would ask any questions. "How did you pass your night?"

Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Early Morning of April 25th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lia wrote:"And so we finally come to you. I hope I speak for all of us when, despite the apparent lateness of the hour, I insist on hearing what you have been up to in the recent past, and more importantly, why."

The freckled girl looked up from where she had been sitting, half-asleep. Perrine didn't say anything, though. She just looked at Lia for a moment, then looked away, jaw clenched, and huddled deeper into the blankets.

Mercator wrote:Nodding at Perrine, he says, "I do not mean to imply that your story is not of great interest, and potentially of great assistance, to us. It may well be. I hope it is. I will certainly be eager to hear it, now or later."

Nerit wrote:"I would amend the Magistra by saying that you are not in trouble here, and you should feel free to speak your whole mind," the nun added kindly to Perrine.

“Are you sure I'm not in trouble?” The freckled girl said quietly. Her voice was still somewhat weak after her ordeal, though a day or so of rest had done her a world of good. She looked at Nerit, and then at Mercator, and it was while looking at Mercator that she started talking.

“I was working on a job for this very rich man. I don't know his name. Or, well. He told me it was M. Magiardonne first. Then later he said it was Amitiés. Aliases.” Perrine said this with a certainty that seemed to have been born of experience. “He paid me a lot, and gave me some detailed instructions on just what I was supposed to do.”

“Then when I'd done what he wanted, he gave me the money, then tossed me to Dior. Who took the money away and gave it back to Amitiés.” Perrine said, her voice dull. “I tried to run away, and then you came along. So. That's my story.”

Insight OR Streetwise check, please.

Kerrian raised a brow, then spoke quietly. "Perrine...we need the details on the job. I know you're frightened, but I promise not to tell anyone or get you in trouble. Already a lot of people have gotten hurt, and unless we know who started this mess, we can't help stop it." Kerrian sighed quietly "Any help you could give with what you know...well, it would be more than what we have now."

Unfortunately, even with spirits nattering in his ear, Kerrian was far from a gifted orator, even with knowledgeable urchins.

OOC:blargh, Diplomacy of 14 after a 30+ on the insight. Assistance anyone?

With a slightly reproachful look at Lia (and a large swig of the brandy decanter he just happened to have found) Nicolas adds his voice to Kerrian's. "Aye ma petite, please tell us all you can, you are safe here form any retribution."

It would have been comforting had the poet not been slurring his words slightly or rocking precariously on the edge of the armchair where he had perched himself.

OOC:
Streetwise 30
Diplomacy 16

"As you see, mademoiselle, none of us mean you harm." Nerit smiled again, but her eyes belied her own curiosity. She settled herself somewhere between the Blackwoods and Perrine, covering her right hand over her left.

Diplomacy 22, Insight 17 . Happy Christmas!

Chateau Malchance, Quartier-Marchand, Early Morning of April 25th, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


“I know, m'sdames” Perrine said heavily, shaking her head a bit. She looked tired, and younger than she was. She huddled under her blankets and pulled them closer, trying to conserve whatever warmth could be found, or perhaps simply seeking some manner of symbolic protection. “I don't want trouble.”

She looked around at the gathered assembly. They were not, on the whole, a sight fit to inspire confidence and comfort in the young woman. Kerrian looked not much older than she did, certainly not a figure of authoritative power. Nicolas looked like a drunken nobleman. Sister Nerit... Perrine looked at Sister Nerit.

“If I tell you about the job, you let me leave? Right now?” Perrine asked, looking at Nerit. “And money enough to get away?”

There was one question that Perrine couldn't ask. Can I trust you? But it was the most important question of them all.