It's time we saw a miracle

[dun_moch]

WHO: Count Dooku catch-all (with prompts for specific characters, plus an open space)
WHERE: About and around the Porter cities
WHEN: Throughout February
WHAT: Stuff. Things.
WARNINGS: Almost certain talk of violence and villainy

A: Mr. Gold, Broom Shop, Heropa

[The Count hasn't been inside the Shop before. He casts an appraising eye over the establishment as he enters, making a little 'hm' sound to himself. It's neat and quaint and homely, very much what Dooku would have expected from Mr. Gold.

The sharp-eyed will be able to see that Dooku has some stiffness in his right arm as he steps further inside, favouring it as though he has recently been injured. But Dooku's voice is strong as he greets the proprietor.]

Good day, Mister Gold. I must say, you have a lovely shop.

B: Mark Vorkosigan, Peter Kane Enterprises, Maurtia Falls

[Dooku is already a PKE investor, which is his pretext for visiting Mark's business today. He's taken the step of wearing a formal dark business suit instead of his standard black space clothes and cape, the better to project a businesslike image. But he has more than money on his mind today, in truth.]

Good morning, Mark. It is a pleasure to see you again.

C: Darlene, Maurtia Falls Crime Museum, backdated to before the blackout

[Darlene has been an unexpectedly productive asset since Pinkman connected her to Dooku in October. Not only has she been discreet about the topics Dooku talked to her about, but the Count hasn't heard any horror stories from Baelish about how her 'computer work' for him has gone. And her hatred for the establishment burns as brightly as her talent in information warfare.

Dooku judges that the time has come to bring her into The Cause, aka the Constellation. Rather than re-use the tea shop he met her at last time, he elects to invite her to an 'educational afternoon' at one of his other preferred meeting places: the Maurtia Falls Crime Museum, a testament to that city's long history of villainy and vigilantism. He meets her in one of the quieter, darker exhibits, devoted to instances of scandal and corruption in local government.]

Hello again, Darlene.

D: Anastasya Griffin, Brew World Order Tea Shop, Maurtia Falls

[Others may have forgotten Tesladyne since its robotic founder was Ported out, but not Count Dooku. His finger remains on the pulse of imPort business and activism, and he remembers this company's work. More importantly, he remembers that Hierophant Griffin has now twice been defeated in politics, which may mean that she is reaching a most useful level of frustration.

With that in mind, Dooku has reached out to Ana for some long-overdue tea. When she arrives, she'll find the Count already seated at a booth near the back, a steaming pot of black tea in front of him.]

E: Leonard Snart, Count Dooku's home, Maurtia Falls

[Dooku is asleep when Len pays him a visit- wearing black, silk, monogrammed pyjamas, naturally. His home has an alarm system, of course, but more importantly it has Dooku himself. The Dark Side is strong in him, and when an unwelcome presence enters his sanctuary his mind senses it swiftly. The Count is awake and moving immediately, his lightsaber in his hand but not yet ignited as he stalks out of his bedroom to confront the intruder. He is not happy.]

Who dares?

F: Free space

[Anything you want! You can reach me by PM or on plurk at stroopwafelling if you want to set anything up.]

Comments

E

[catchacold]

[Leonard's eyes go to the lightsaber, which for him looks like nothing more but a very short stick. Curious. He says nothing to it, only instinct having drawn his eyes, because it is certainly held like a weapon.

He's seated in one of Dooku's chair, drinking wine out of one of Dooku's glasses, his hand on the handle of his gun, but he hasn't drawn it yet.]

I dare.

[He's a daring guy, on the whole.]

You really do have security issues.

[dun_moch]

[Dooku scowls mightily when he sees who it is in his chair, drinking his wine. He thumbs the activation switch on his lightsaber, and the very short stick suddenly sprouts a humming red blade of pure energy, casting crimson light around the darkened room.]

And you have issues with self-preservation. Why are you here, Leonard Snart?

[catchacold]

Showing off, mostly. [He takes a sip of the wine, his eyes on the lightsaber and his free hand on his gun, as relaxed as he might look right now.]

I thought I'd revisit our topic of discussion, now that the lights are back on.

[dun_moch]

As you wish.

[Speaking of lights. The Count waves a hand, and the switches in the room move according to his will, illuminating the room- and demonstrating his power to this insolent interloper. But he also deactivates the lightsaber, for the moment. The energy blade makes a hissing noise as it retracts back into the hilt.]

As I recall, we were speaking of the importance of security in this dangerous world. You've certainly demonstrated that there is room for improvement in my own.

[He's going to get his NPC bodyguard to hang around his housing more after this. This is just embarrassing, and someone of Dooku's pride reacts poorly to embarrassment.]

[catchacold]

True. Although, if it helps, I'm very good at what I do. Even better at what I don't do.

[Which would be "getting caught", at least currently and when he doesn't intend for it. With the lightsaber gone, Leonard leans back, his grip around the cold gun relaxing as well.]

I thought we could do with some privacy.

[jacksonian]

Count Dooku.

[ Mark's pudgy face cracks into a smile which he thinks is friendly and welcoming but just looks vaguely oily and predatory. He's dressed well himself - a suit, clearly expensive both thanks to the fabric and thanks to the doubtless custom tailoring to his small, spherical frame - hair slicked back, fresh-shaven. He waves the man into a seat. ]

Please. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water? Something a little stronger?

[dun_moch]

Tea, if you please.

[The oily smile on Mark's face is perversely comforting to Count Dooku, a comfort borne of familiarity. He had grown accustomed to being surrounded by such smiles while leading the corrupt pack of money-grubbing corporate toadies that called themselves the Separatist Council, enduring their transparent greed for the sake of their resources, while publicly putting an idealistic gloss on their avarice in the name of the Separatist cause. Dooku knows how to handle those smiles. He lowers himself into a seat.]

Your business appears to be doing well, I must say.

[jacksonian]

Naturally.

[ He lifts his chin and responds with perfect arrogance: ]

People respond to skill. Success like I have, and people respond. I imagine that's why you're here, as well - you want to invest more money?

[dun_moch]

Precisely.

[Dooku can respect arrogance when he can consider it well-earned (like in his case). Mark's pride in his thriving business more than qualifies.]

I intend to change careers very shortly. I would like to place your firm in charge of managing and investing the residual earnings from my band's music, as well as its merchandise.

[jacksonian]

Ah.

[ He sits back, face lighting with interest. ]

What's your next career path, then?

A.

[cantwalkwithoutit]

[ To someone with Dooku's particular abilities, the magic in the shop should be immediately apparent. There's an air of relief, of home and hearth, all over the place -- the magic of each individual broom and basket and display piece coming together in this single aura.

Business has been at a slow trickle today, but in general he's been doing better since word got out that his weekly classes came with food.

At present, the owner is bent over a project behind the counter. Dressed in one of his tailored suits under a work apron, his gloved hands finish the top layer of a tightly, intricately woven basket. Some of the fibers appear to be golden, themselves.

Dooku has an especially distinctive voice, but it's been long enough since they last spoke that Gold is caught somewhat unawares. He glances up, one hand smoothly pinning the unfinished parts of his project in place before he sets it aside and rises up his full -- albeit rather unimpressive -- height. ]

What a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Heropa?

[dun_moch]

[The Count raises an eyebrow at the basket as he regards Gold's work. It's clearly lovely craftsmanship, like everything else in the shop, but Dooku wonders why someone with such obvious sorcerous power would ever be content to work with his hands in this humble little shop. Perhaps it is just a front for his real activities, Dooku speculates- a mind like the Count's always leans toward such explanations.]

I may have need of your talents.

[And not in broom-making. Dooku casts a meaningful glance over the very clearly undamaged shop.]

I'm quite pleased to see your establishment was left unharmed during the recent... unpleasantness. You must have excellent security.

[cantwalkwithoutit]

[ Well, that's a lure he dropped literally forever ago. Color him surprised that it might be about to pay off. Whatever his ambitions were early on in his arrival, Gold has...regressed, a good deal. He's found a comfortable corner to settle into. Without Pan there to threaten him, surrounded in the cocoon of positive energy he'd made in the shop, keeping himself occupied has been easy, even if there have been some slips when he's spent an extended amount of time away with Doc Brown.

But he's been growing restless, even with all of this around him. ]

Or excellent contractors.

[ Neither, really. A little magic goes a long way. The sign on the door flips over to "Closed." ]

And I'm happy to take commissions. What, in particular, did you have in mind?

[dun_moch]

Oh, I'm sure. The very best contractors.

[Spoken dryly. Dooku watches the sign flip over with satisfaction- Gold is not so comfortable in this cozy shop as to be unavailable for business.]

My imPort bodyguard was Ported out recently, which created certain... difficulties for me during the blackout.

[If getting shot by escaped maniacs could be described as a 'difficulty.']

I'm interested in obtaining protection that is more reliable. Some charm or talisman that will not disappear at the whim of the Porter. Is this within your power?

[cantwalkwithoutit]

[ Gold gazes up at him (quite a ways, there's a 12-inch height difference between the two of them) with something almost akin to admiration, or at the very least a willingness to show he's awarding a high compliment. ]

Surely you only needed that for show. It might impress the right people knowing you're not one to be trifled with for more than... well, diplomatic reasons. There's far more to you than a silver tongue.

[nastygram]

What up, D.

[Darlene, nursing a pretty gnarly hangover, is thankful for the dark. At the same time, this feels so very spy movie to a pretty ridiculous degree, but she's long been doing business with thugs in pinball parlors and hackers in coffee shops, so what does she know about setting.

She's got her sunglasses pushed up onto her forehead and her ass on a low glass case in the right of center of the room. In the case, there's a display of some documents and photographs that are super not interesting. No threat to the glass, since most of her weight held in her legs which she's got locked straight out in front of her.

She doesn't shift off the case, stays where she is. Takes a long sip of her soda through her chewed-up straw.]

So is this like a hang-out spot for you, or what.

[dun_moch]

[Dooku is about to make it clear to Darlene that he prefers to be addressed as 'My Lord' or 'Count Dooku' or even just 'sir'- not as 'D'- but then he gets a look at her face and wrinkles his nose, naming issues forgotten.]

Have you been drinking?

[nastygram]

Dude. Are you kidding me right now?

[As unimpressed as she is defensive, Darlene fixes Sir D with a flat stare.]

Okay, please rethink your priorities and whatever followup you have to that shitty judgey question. Are we here to talk or not.

[dun_moch]

[Dooku stares back. Equally flatly. Is this her first secret meeting or is he just unlucky?]

We are here to talk. Regarding a most sensitive matter, to be discussed using discretion... and considered with careful judgement.

[So, you know. Not an ideal hangover topic.]

[nastygram]

Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not wasted right now. And I'm not gonna puke on you. So please save me whatever this concern act is supposed to be and get on with talking.

[She shifts off of where she's leaning on the display case and pointedly sets her soda on the floor, a demonstration of attention.]

I'm all ears.

D

[thegriffinofdeath]

[Ana paused as she entered the tea shop, surveying the people there quietly, her hands folded in front of her. She was dressed down for the day, a long black skirt, the tips of black boots sticking out of the front, and a simple dark green blouse. She hadn't expected Dooku's invitation, but she certainly wasn't going to say no. She liked the older man...even if older was hardly the right word.]

[When she spotted him, she waved off the waitress who had stopped to ask her what she needed and strode across the room, sliding into the seat opposite him with a small smile.]

Count.

[dun_moch]

Hierophant.

[He inclines his head to her in a respectful nod.]

It has been far too long. My apologies for neglecting our friendship. Things have been quite busy for both of us, as I'm sure you are aware.

[thegriffinofdeath]

It's fine, really. [She smiled, perhaps a tad teasing.] The burdens of authority and all that, right?

[Not that either of them had any right now, which was...the joke? Probably.]

Honestly, you're not wrong though. Half the time I feel like it's all I can do to keep Tesladyne from spinning out of control.

[dun_moch]

[Dooku gives her a sympathetic look.]

Indeed. I'm sure it has been quite a challenge. You are the last imPort remaining of the original founders of that company, are you not?

[thegriffinofdeath]

Mm. I hadn't really thought about it that way, but...I suppose so.

[She was quiet for a moment, reaching out instead to pour some tea. Finally she drew in a breath and smiled faintly.]

Well, no sense letting that get to me. Too many other things to do.