It's just about midnight, and the theatre is a hum of vampiric activity. Most of it is in the lobby and wings of the theatre proper, however, since Brand is sitting in the front row of the main threatre. There's nothing on the stage but a single pianist, currently playing the theme from The G-dfather. Brand's eyes are closed, and he looks very much like a corpse sitting on a macabre throne.
Dex arrives with a certain self confidence. However, walking into a theater full of vampires and being a warm bloody, tasty creature it does tend to bring her down a few levels. Still, her shoulders held straight, her chin up a touch, she moves with an easy stride. Slow, an easy stride that says, I'm not in a hurry, I'm not afraid. Following the sound of music, she arrives in the main theater and gives pause to the single piano player. " Well-suited music, don't you think?"
"I'm not entirely certain what you mean by well-suited, but it's one of the few pieces he knows and it is…not displeasing to the ears." Brand observes without opening his eyes. He is, alas, too old to get the joke. The pianist, a much younger and apparently rather brave vampire, offers Dex a wink. Meanwhile, his Master continues to keep his eyes closed, steepling his fingers together. "You don't sound familiar, and you are not one of my kind." Strangely his own power has a warmth to it.
Dex returns the wink, with a curl of lips, a joke gotten and shared between two people that expression says. A flicker of her eyes, she rocks onto her toes and back on the heels of her boots as she stands there. No need to get closer yet. Hands are tucked into her pockets and she tosses hair from her face, the shorter strands wanting to fall into her face. A touch of tongue to lips, "I wan…" She stops there, "I would like to speak to the Master of the City. This is the address someone left for me."
Brand gives Dex a knifelike smile as she changes from want to would like, and finally turns his head toward her and slowly opens his eyes. It's a predatory gesture, enhanced as he stretches somewhat in his seat. "You are brave to come here, all alone." He observes, giving the girl a thoughtful once over. "Please, sit. If you will tell me why it is you seek the Master, I may be able to arrange something for you."
Her feet hardly make a sound as she walks to where you reside on the front row. An inhale through her nose, she sits on the end of the isle you occupy. Turning her form towards you, she puts one arm over the back of the chair. Casual. Legs cross, her other hand moving to rest just below her knee. "Bravery, is being the only one who knows your afraid." A small tone of joking to her words. "I am here alone, because I have found no other of my kind in this city." A pause, as if tempering just how much more to say on that subject. "I would like to speak with him and form … I believe the proper word would be, alliance."
"I see." Brand inclines his head, open curiosity on his face now. "I know not what you are, beyond that you are one of the shapeshifters, but you must have something quite special to offer to believe you could strike such an unequal alliance. You are the only one of your kind, yet you seek to secure the friendship of the entire Kiss through treaty with their Master." There's a brief smile, then. "A smart move, though, if looking for security and protection."
"I believe we are often referred to as tricksters, I've even heard someone call what I am a…prairie wolf." A slight wrinkle of her nose. "But canis latrans, or coyote is the simplest answer." A brush of her hand, as if to clear lint from her jeans that is simply not there. "As for what I have to offer, I am quite trained in the art what the police like to call, breaking and entering. I prefer to call it liberation of property."
Brand laughs softly. "Ah, a thief, I see." One hand taps thoughtfully on the the chair of the arm. "So you offer your skills, and in return you desire…protection? Someone powerful whose name you can wield against those who might have designs on you?"
"It's always nice to know that someone has you back, when you are in my profession. I am also adept at getting around such things as security systems, and from time to time have been known to show skills in such things as forgery." She lifts her eyes, briefly to your face, however she is not brave enough to embrace your gaze boldly. "And of course, there is always the donation of blood." A subtle tilt of her head. "Although I understand your kind isn't always in need of one of my abilities, I can however, move about in the sunlight, which may be helpful when compared against your own band of thieves."
"Child, I can manipulate the shadows themselves. I can remove memory and alter emotion." Brand laughs softly, before admitting "But I am the oldest of my kind present here, and thus the most powerful. I also, as you so delicately point out, cannot face the sun as I once could. Such is beyond even my abilities. And as you say, there is the donation of blood." There's a pause, then he too cants his head. "Indulge my curiosity..why is it you came here, rather than to other shifters?"
There is a soft purse of her lips, a stubborn expression. "The other shifters would have me bow and scrape." she says with a lift of her chin, "Because I am not one of theirs, they don't have to take me in. I have nothing to offer them what-so-ever. We are on equal ground. With the vampires, I have at least something to put on the table, if it is nothing more than my blood, should my abilities not be something they would desire. I am not ashamed of what I am and will not submit to those who are not better, but simply different." A glance towards the piano man. "I do however know when to bow my head, to the vampires, I bow."
The piano man gives Dex an encouraging nod, and a brilliant smile. Brand is either oblivious to the interaction between the two, or chooses to ignore it. "Well spoken. You told the truth, even though it is not entirely favorable to you. And between you and I, the mere fact it sounds like it will annoy the majority of the shifters gives me reason to agree." His fingers steeple once more. "I think we can reach an understanding."
She chuckles softly, rubbing her hands together before placing them laced together over one knee of her crossed legs. "I am glad to hear that." She shifts, leaning just a touch towards where you sit now, a little more relaxed. "Otherwise I might be forced to hide and that is really, no fun." She speaks as if she has had to do it before. "What would be terms of this understanding?"
"Simple really." Brand murmurs, as if it is nothing to worry about. "You would be able to claim yourself under my protection, and I would provide that protection should it be necessary. In exchange you will do nothing to…intentionally irritate the others. I will not protect you from your own stupidity. I may occasionally call upon you for blood, or to use your skills. But otherwise, as long as you keep in regular contact so I know you are safe…you are largely free to do as you please."
Turning to study your face, there is a sliver of disbelief in those twinkling eyes. She presses her lips together, releasing a sort of non emotional 'mmmm' sound. "That sounds simple enough."
She agrees quietly. You can tell she is waiting for the hook, or the clause that surely will be a part of this. Shifting in her seat, she raises up a hip, leaning to access a back pocket. Drawing out her wallet, she offers you between her fingers a card. On it, is simply the name 'Dex' and a phone number. "This is where I can be reached, at any time. I myself am a bit nocturnal, so you need not worry about waking me. I have no mate, so interruption is not an issue."
Brand smiles to himself as he notes that look of trying to find the clause, or the hook. The card is taken, and one offered in return. "I am Brand, Lord Chicago, Master of the City." There's a pause, before he notes "I am afraid I am not the best with modern technology, so do not be surprised if someone else answers that phone. In time I am sure you will meet my servant, and then you may find it easier to call her. But for the moment, that number should suffice."
Taking the card, it is now that she looks a big…chagrined at this fact that has come to light. A small opening of her mouth, a 'oh' formed silently before she nods, slides the card into her wallet and tucks her wallet back into her pocket. A slow exhale, nerves briefly surfacing as she realizes it was /the/ Master of the City she was talking to and not some lackey. A brush of her hand through her hair, "The pleasure is mine." She says quietly at last, with a touch of reverence. "The one who answers your phone, her name is … ?" So she will know which servant or said lackey is might be speaking with should she call.
"Our conversation would not have gone anywhere near as smoothly if I had introduced myself at the beginning of it, as your momentary show of nerves proves." Brand points out softly. "I am not as boastful of my position as some…I feel my power speaks for itself. As to who answers my phone, it depends who I am around at the time. Usually one of the younger vampires I trust. My servant…has her own business to attend to much of the time."
She pulls her nervous state down, into some neutrality, into some calmness. A nod of her head, agreeing with you, it seems. "Fair enough." She says quietly, as you speak of your servant. "If the time should come that I need to call upon you, and be aware that I will not take such with frivolity, I will simply ask for you. As I am the only one who answers my phone, there is no worry." She grins a touch, tilting her head down. "I do appreciate your time, Sir. Is there anything further?" She's sure you have… minions to torture or slaves to enthrall.
Brand shakes his head. "There is nothing futher. You may go at your leisure." If he does indeed have torturing and enthralling to be getting on with it, it doesn't show. But then very little shows in that inhuman stillness, and after a moment his eyes slip closed once again. Exactly how old this inhuman creature is isn't clear, but the answer must be old indeed from the way he acts.
"Thank you, may you enjoy your evening." She raises up from her seat, so that her back is not towards you, but towards the isle of the theater. Wiping her hands on the hips of her jeans, a sure sign of sweaty palms, she exhales with a kind of relief, and quietly, if not swiftly, begins to walk up the isle on her way to exiting the theater.