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heiko-writes · 2 years ago

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Dinner with The Northmans, Part 2

::Erik::  I noticed earlier your cane doesn't seem entirely an accessory to your evening attire.  Was it a decision you made by trial or even necessity for health reasons?

::Kreizler blinked at Erik::  You're either a gifted perceptive or you've already discovered details about me which I assumed exclusive to my most intimate friends.

I'm neither ::Erik smiled lightly::  I made a deduction based on you being a human sanguinarian using a cane, and John being Lycan.  And I'm decidedly familiar with the reasons behind our mutual friend's decision.  ::Erik motioned to Jan::  

::There was a tight pause as he gauged Kreizler's pensive expression.::  Have I somehow offended you?  ::he decided to ask in case his candor was ill-timed with this new and clearly very private ally::

::Kreizler shook his head and wagged his left hand as if to virtual brush away the supposed indiscretion::  No, no. Not at all, Erik.  I'm surprised at your skill at query perhaps.  ::He offered Erik a sheepish smile.::  You are incredibly perceptive though.  Truly.  ::his smile broadened::   And, please, let me apologize if my manner of communication is too frank.  Even after all these years, I'm afraid my mouth can outrun my brain sometimes.  ::he chuffed a little laugh::

Yeah, I get that.  ::Erik smirked back amiably::  And when you've been around a while I guess you pick up on things.  I'm really no accomplished wit or anything. ::he chuckled lightly::  Just observant I guess.

::Kreizler nodded, still smiling a little::  I suppose I'd have to say there are two parts to that answer, Erik.  The former would be the most related to your question.  But the latter may as well be offered to provide the bigger picture.

I've been anemic all my life and developed muscle disease in my teenage years.  What was originally thought to be simply growing pains turned out to be inflammatory myositis.  Between the fatigue and nausea, and chronic pain, you can imagine how my ability to focus on my studies began to suffer, as did nearly every aspect of my life.  I was often bed-ridden with fatigue, or barely moved from our settee as the very act of raising myself to stand was unbearably painful.

::Kreizler sipped at then gulped his wine::  There's only so much liver, iodine, salicylates, and ferrous salt, among so many other innumerable tortures one can take before the treatment begins to outweigh the cure.

::He glanced at Moore, watching him with warm, soft eyes::  Moore approached me with the notion of insanguination.  He knew far more than I about the vitality of lycan and vampire blood, and was very positive it could help me in many ways.

I was of course stoutly against it at first.  Raised Catholic and apparently not very open-minded yet at the time, we fought viciously over ethics as well as the fact that my insistence that blood-drinking was abhorrent was a direct prejudice, dogmatic, and racist toward John himself as a part-lycan borne of a half-lycan father.

And he was absolutely right.  I was being all of those things, and more.  And in the face of my oldest, dearest friend who wanted nothing more than to see my thrive again  ::Kreizler exhaled shakily.  His glossy eyes tremored with emotion and he looked down at his plate again::  So I tried it.  ::he looked back up to Jan and Erik and Mina::  Only a little at first.  John let from his wrist into a glass... not more than a few tablespoons but it was enough.  

::He shook his head a little::  It was terrible.  I hated it.  It seemed so profane.  I wanted to throw it up.  ::he pressed a knuckle to his upper lip and swallowed thickly::  But I couldn't.  I could hardly even gag up anything at all I felt so frozen with blasphemy.  I locked myself in the bathroom and told John to move out.  

::he stroked his hand across his beard, and snorted at himself::  A terrible vertigo overwhelmed me and I felt aflame with fever, so I stripped and lay on the floor... sobbing... until it passed.  I fell asleep in there like that.  And the next morning, when I got up and opened the door, l actually felt quite well and I wanted to tell John so I called for him.  When he didn't answer and seemed nowhere in the house, I thought he really had left.  I thought I had run off the last person that seemed to care anything at all for me.

I nearly became undone. ::His fingers pressed over his mouth::

::Moore reached and lay his hand on Laszlo's shoulder::  Our house phone wasn't working again, so I'd been down the hall to phone my grandmother to explain I'd not be over for lunch.  Something very important had come up which could not wait.

I'd forgotten about the phone ::Laszlo smiled up at him::

Yes you did.  ::Moore smiled back::

So..!  ::Laszlo nodded, dabbing his eyes with his napkin, coughing a little::  I said I thought just maybe it had worked because I was feeling ... not better per se, but different.  Obviously the small amount couldn't have done much for me and clearly that dosage didn't last.  But I was convinced already that the ichor was going to help me.  

::he raised his hands::  And it absolutely has ever since.

::Mina smiled::  that’s wonderful…. Things couldn’t have worked out any better. ::she looked to Moore:: do you have family still around?

When my mother passed my father moved to the UK.  I've not seen him since.  I know there are living Moores in our bloodline there and many others here in America, but I've never found myself preoccupied with my family tree.  I'm afraid I can only say that those I can account for are either dead, or whom I feel may as well be just be dead to me.  ::Moore smirked smartly at her, lips tightening, gaze flattening::

No, John.  That's not true ::Laszlo nearly twisted in his chair to face Moore::  You'd reconcile if given the change.  You've said so many times before.

Yes... ::Moore rolled his eyes and supped the rest of Laszlo's vodka shot, then the rest of his own wine::  So I've said many times before... ::he glanced around for the attendant to bring more wine, then added bitterly::  We'll certainly see what I have to say if that pomposity ever rears his hideous head around me again.

Do you think he's still alive?  ::Erik asked, also taking another glass of wine::

Quite honestly, at this point, Erik, I could give two shits. ::Moore chuffed::

John..! ::Laszlo frowned at him::

Oh please, Laszlo.  Don't mock me.  You curse just fine when you're blood is up.  ::Moore gazed at him hotly::

Please calm down, John.  You mustn't always let talk of your father ire you so ::Laszlo tried sounding compassionate, but Moore just heard preaching::

::Moore stood abruptly then, spiking his napkin into his chair.  Excuse me.  This is not in response to any of you.

John...! ::Laszlo mewled desperately up at him but Moore pivoted away and stalked off::  

Scheiße.  ::Laszlo hissed at his fists, balled and quaking above his lap.  His left hand swiped across his face then and he sighed sharply.  He raised his gaze to Jan, pink cheeked and glassy eyed::  I just don't know how to change his mind.

::Jan blinked at him casually:: Perhaps it's your response to him which needs to change.

I've tried.  ::Laszlo lamented quietly::

::Jan offered him a soft smile::  Do you have an attending counselor?

::Laszlo::  I'm sorry? 

::Jan::  Are you seeing a psychiatrist?

::Laszlo::  Not currently.

::Jan::  How long has it been?

::Laszlo:: <sigh> I can't remember.

::Jan::  Would you like- ?

::Jan didn't even finish his question when Laszlo blurt::  Yes very much thank you!  ::Below the table, his fingertips curled into his thighs.  He exhaled roughly, eyes moving between the others::  I suppose none of you were prepared for any dinner theatre tonight, did you?  ::He chuckled tightly, still working on quelling his disquiet::

::Erik::  May I call you Laszlo?

::Laszlo::  Please do.

::Erik::  Laszlo, why haven't you had John turn you yet?  If you're using his ichor to medicate, and you're both committed to each other, why not just turn and ensure your best health and long lives together.

::Laszlo sat back in his chair, his fine, slender hands resting in his lap, and sighed out one last puff of angst.::  We tried.  Or I should say he tried.  I don't think his amalgamate is strong enough. 

Why do you think that?  ::Erik lifted his arm and placed it against the back of Mina's chair::

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY LOL

::Their finished meals were bussed away and dessert and coffee was offered.  Mina ordered the Bananas Foster minus the Affogato.  Erik asked for the Peach Semifreddo and black coffee.  Laszlo asked Mina if she'd like to switch to Champagne and she heartily accepted the offer so he ordered them Veuve Clicquot, and an extra flute for Moore.  Jan took coffee, black.::

::Laszlo coughed; two quick chuffs. Sighed quietly, chuffed again::

I.M.? ::Jan asked him::

::Laszlo nodded::  Comes and goes.  When I'm tired or dehydrated mostly.

So, all the time ::Jan half mused::

::Laszlo snorted softly at him, smirking.  His gaze returned to Erik then::  Remember I said there were two parts to my answer to your question about my sanguinarianism?

Mmhm ::Erik nodded::

::Laszlo::  A long time ago, and for many years John and I allied with a small team of enquirers:  a lady P.I. and her cohort, and two detective sergeants generally on permanent loan from the New York Police Department.  We primarily investigated homicides, although John and I did assist on several missing persons cases.  Anyway, one evening we ran afoul of our killer and John had him on foot heading toward the Gilsey.  

When John caught him they grappled and the suspect shot him in the chest which separated them.  

I made the stupid mistake of calling out to John and was consequently turned upon and also shot.  He fired two into my chest, one in the loin, and the last went into my neck.  Current medical procedures involving transfusions were barely used at that time and very arrhythmic.  My health was failing faster than I could be transfused.  John of course healed just fine in a matter of days.  But I'd lost too much blood, and already being anemic, my prognosis was very poor.

Fortuitously though we had a nurse from the Lying-In Hospital we'd befriended from an earlier case.  She and Lucius--one of our detective sergeants well versed in anatomy--drew vial after vial from John for weeks and fed me every drop they could wring from him without also making him sick. Which he became anyway. <heavy sigh>

Even in my grievous state, knowing now how readily the human marrow is for producing our blood, it's far greedier for donor blood from a dynamic host.  His blood did save my life but it never turned me.  He simply couldn't give me enough fast enough.  

With that testimony being said, his amalgamate doesn't appear strong enough to even fully cure me of my own, organic afflictions.  ::he motioned to his cane.  he flattened his hand over his breast, implying his lungs::  

It was never assumed that turning me would save my life.  The only thought at that time was just to save my life.

It is evident, though, that once recovered, I came away much stronger than before the shooting.  I have far more tone, and vigor.  But the overall procedure certainly did not bestow upon me a wholeness of health which would normally be expected from a Lycan transfusion.

::Minas right eyebrow raised a bit::  well we are certainly happy that you survived being shot…. But what about now?  Have you both considered turning you now?  It seems so much easier to turn that to manage to specific amounts and dosages to maintain. it seems like such a science!  ::she glances to

Jan with a smile::  maybe that’s why you like it so much… the process and control and maintenance of the dosages.  I’ve never thought about how difficult it is to maintain without over doing it.  

It's absolutely a science. ::Jan replied, smirking at her, his golden eyes watching her cleverly::  Having a consistent, clean, powerful donor helps.   ::he grinned at Erik then::

You're welcome ::Erik grinned back. They clinked coffee cups and snickered at each other::

And I enjoy a great many things about it.  ::Jan glanced to her again::  The distillation of amalgamate is not one of them though, so it's easiest to just store what I can carefully using proven methods.  Having a great network of Evolved to tutor me has been categorically principal in establishing and maintaining those methods, as well as and improving upon them whenever I can.

Honestly, Mina, it's really not something we discuss very often at all ::Laszlo responded.  He tipped his head then::  It is alright that I address you as Mina?

::Mina nods:: absolutely you can cal me Mina.  We are hardly the type that demand formality..  especially among friends.

Thank you! ::Laszlo offered her a genuine and happy, toothy smile.  He was still smirking when he supped strongly from his champagne.

He had taken some time to warm up--not that he'd been cool or unfriendly in the least!  And he'd even seemed to struggle through a myriad of emotions over the past few hours while in their presence.  In part, true, his anxiety was goaded along by the varying, and often personal nature of the subject matter they discussed, but there was evidence that finding the right balance of attitude had been very heavily at play for him for much of the evening.  

Now, however, without Moore beside him, his demeanor was less rigid, more relaxed, more animated.  His expressions were less reserved, more free flowing.  The spark in his eye was bright and alluring.  He was overall more attractive and definitely more engaging.

Maybe it wasn't the lack of Moore's distractive presence and more the two glasses of wine, the half-finished flute of champagne, and the full belly of rich foods.  Either way, they three took notice of the change in him.::

It's queer how time speeds when we allow ourselves to invest in our happenings.  We've had such an agreeable living that considering anything different has barely been our topic since that incident.  ::Laszlo added for Mina, continuing his response to her question::  We're certainly not complacent in anything, some routine has been well received.  And although the blood draws and administration have changed some... ::he glanced to Jan::  Nothing is much different now than it was 100 years ago.  In fact, after having imbibed approximately two years, my vigor was such advanced from its former attitude, we began to travel.  ::he paused, supped his champagne again::  By that time, I couldn't recall having left New England since I'd opened the Institute.

We've been very fortunate.  ::he paused, chuffed::  Blessed, actually.  Perhaps the most distressing thing we've endured since the shooting wa the closure of the Institute.

For the children...? ::Erik part-asked::

Correct.  ::Laszlo nodded::  I opened the Kreizler Institute in 1885 and by 1950, it was virtually useless for its original intent.  I was 100-percent against turning it into an asylum for wealthy families to dump their... unfortunates.  ::he sneered::  My mission was always to provide sanctuary and answers, and HOPE; to edify young people.  We were a school.  A place for learning, not a stockyard where parents could abandon their problem colts, then rarely visit, or worse never return.

I shut down the schooling portion and reassessed the files of any remaining students whose parents still wanted to pay for therapeutic services.  It was arduous and heartbreaking.  ::He shook his head::  But at least I was still helping troubled children.  The ways the State handled social services, the economy, commerce, the whole of the population, everything! seemed to morph constantly after the Crash.  The Justice System especially was completely different by then.

The 50s?  ::Erik asked, making sure he was following Laszlo's verbal timeline::

Yes. ::Laszlo nodded sharply once.  He chuckled then::  I apologize if I'm rambling on.  I don't know what's gotten into me ::he blushed again and lowered his eyes a moment, before gazing back at them quietly with a sheepish smile::

It's very true that the 50s and 60s completely changed socially.  My client base became almost entirely criminal or forensic by '68.  ::Jan piped up::

'68 specifically?  ::Erik mused::  That's not an arbitrary year, it's specific.

::Jan smirked at him::  Robert Kennedy died that year.  It's not arbitrary.

Oh!  ::Erik laughed::  OK that makes sense! ::he chuckled heartily again, grinning at Jan::

::Moore finally returned, smelling of cigarettes and sticky night air::  I apologize for my absence.  Thank you all for being accommodating.  ::He sat back down next to Laszlo, who began reaching for the champagne for Moore, but Moore was already helping himself, snatching up the bottle and pouring liberally into his flute, finishing off the bottle.

Should I order another?  ::Erik offered::

::Moore gulped from his flute, then replied briskly to Erik::  No, rather, I say we move our merry band to someplace more informal.

How informal?  ::Erik cocked a brow at him::

::Moore cocked a brow back::  What have you in mind?

What have YOU in mind? ::Erik grinned::

::Moore grinned a fangy smile right back at him, chuckling gruffly::  I'm not quite sure.  But I'm certain it involves cocktails and dancing.  ::Mild horror glazed Laszlo's dark eyes as he gasped silently up at Moore as if to speak out in protest.  Instead though, he closed his mouth and stayed quiet.  His hands slid from the edge of the table back into his lap in his typical, oft-adopted, snug and restrained, guarded posture.::

I can definitely think of a few places you may like.::Erik offered::  

::Moore drained his flute, nodding to Erik, then set the glass down with a brusque clunk.  He slid his arm across Laszlo's shoulders then and leaned his face near to Laszlo's cheek:: 

We're not in New York right now.  Let's enjoy the distance...

::he allowed his hot breath to buffet against Laszlo's collar, watched the doctor's eye roll to its corner to peer down at Moore's mouth so close to his neck. He heard the squelch and click of Laszlo's throat working wetly. 

Laszlo had stopped breathing. His lips had parted.  His head gave a wee twitch; a compliant nod.

Thank you, Laszlo. Moore merely mouthed the words but he may have shouted them to the whole room for how loud and clear his gratitude landed on all the ears at their table.

Moore turned his head, eyeing Jan, then Erik, and finally resting his gaze on Mina.  His leer grew with each tick of his eyes from person to person::  

Let’s also give ourselves more time to get to know our new friends much better.

HUNGARIAN TOAST:

"Célozzunk mindig magasra, tartsuk alacsonyan az egónkat, és járjunk barátaink mellett."

"Let's always aim high, keep our egos low, and walk by our friends."

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heiko-writes · 2 years ago

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Dinner with The Northmans: Part 1

::Jan opened Mina's car door while Erik handed his valet key to the attendant.  Jan smiled gently at her, offering her his hand.  Shook took it, smiling back. He glanced then to his right and readily recognized Doctor Kreizler and his companion John Moore wearing bespoke, Edwardian-inspired three-piece suits.  Kreizler was in all black, complete with black silk gloves and ivory capped walking stick; Moore in dark biscuit over copper.  His gloves were cognac. Moore was animating some story or other, gesticulating with his hands up, face turned to the sky.  Kreizler was laughing happily, cane in his right hand, arms crossed snugly over his breast.  

Both men were lean, trim-waisted specimens with impeccably coiffed and waxed, full heads of dark hair.  Kreizler wore a short, neat, full beard.  His complexion was fair but far from wan.  Joy pinked the apples of his cheeks, and illuminated his dark, espresso brown eyes.  

Moore sported a close-cropped mustache, a golden tan, glittery green eyes, and short, but well-defined and fairly obvious upper and lower canines::

:::Mina smiled at Jan, turning in the sidewalk to follow his gaze.  While she had no idea who they were meeting, she could easily pick the two out of the crowd as they waited.  They kind of stood out- out of time, out of place and yet also completely fitting in with those around them.  She examined them carefully, taking them in as she waited for Erik::

::Erik joined them and they three approached Kreizler and Moore, standing just to the left of the hotel entrance.  The doorman glanced to them with a wide smile.  Then nodded to a couple passing him through the threshold and into the restaurant::  Evening.  Welcome!

::The men squared up as their little group stepped to them.  Kreizler switched his cane to his left hand and lowered it to the concrete sidewalk at their feet.  His left knee was cocked, and he leaned ever so slightly on the stick.  His dark eyes were glossy and intense.  They flicked fast between their group.  His lashes were fine, abundant, long.  His beard was manicured, full; the whiskers were brown, blond, and auburn, curly.  His haircut was typical of an Edwardian male, full, but cut away around the ears, carefully tapered at both nape and apex, allowing his naturally curly, variegated chocolate and caramel locks to form wee wisps on his neck and above his ears. His forelock formed a charming wave curling up then down from his high forehead to coil at his right temple.  His heritage could have been as much Balkan as it could have been Swiss or Dutch.  His features were not clearly accountable.  But both his given and surname were unmistakably Hungarian. 

He was only a few inches taller than Mina in his button-up half boots, but he gave not the impression of petiteness.  In fact, his black on black and more black suite and accoutrements may have obscured his carnal body, but his fidelity to physical fitness ensured his silhouette and form were quite complemented by his tailored suit.

His waist and hips were svelte, his breast quite sufficient.  His posture was impeccable, spine supple, curving smartly into high, round buttocks.  He smelled strongly of cedarwood soap, orange blossom and black pepper lotion, and musky hair balm.

Moore was several inches taller than Kreizler.  He was nearly the same in height and breadth to Jan, but more chesty, broader-shouldered, more angular.  His jaw was strong, as was his chin.  His dimples were deep. His waxed coif was almost black.  He had a slight widow's peak.  His green eyes smiled at them beneath arched eyebrows.  His nose was slightly upturned.  His copper brocade, double-breasted waistcoat, gleaming dark curls, sunkissed flesh, trim and slender mustache, and vibrant, mischievous gaze sort of made him seem like a gentleman pirate.  Incidentally, he also smelled of Oriental spices:  Ambergris, sandalwood, coriander, tobacco.  He also radiated the unmistakably savory, salty, spicy scent of a virile male Lycan::

Did you come by carriage, or time machine?  ::Erik mused to them::

::Moore chuckled smartly and offered his gloved hand::  Good Evening, Mr. Northman.  What a pleasure it is to finally meet you... and your beautiful bride!  ::he beamed as they clutched hands briskly.  Moore's head twitched from Erik to Mina.  As he grinned down at her, she noted again his conspicuous canines::

::Jan spoke quickly then as Moore's amiability was getting ahead of his manners::  Gentlemen, these are my dearest friends Erik and Mina Northman. ::he nodded to Kreizler, then Moore::  Doctor Laszlo Kreizler.   John Moore, journalist, and companion artist.

My God!  ::Kreizler's eyes widened, his mouth opened in a gasp::  Doctor Mykolas, I'd heard of your longevity yet never assumed to see you again in my lifetime.  ::he extended his hand to Jan and when their grasp caught, his left hand, fisted about his cane, tapped down against Jan's wrist and he held to Jan::

Doctor Kreizler, yes, it's been a few decades.  I've nonetheless continued to read everything you publish and await further circulations.  Your observations and opinions are as provocative as ever.  Never a dull reflection.  ::Jan smiled cordially at Kreizler::

::Kreizler blushed, eyes darting away::  Well, you overstate my efficacy, Doctor.  But you are a remarkable intellect and I'll take your plaudits eagerly.  ::his grin was toothy, his eyeteeth sharp.  He shook Erik's hand next, then Mina.  His outer jugular pulsed visibly in his throat::  

::Mina smiled and shook each of the mens hands and then stood beside Erik, watching Jan and his friends.  Erik waited for the greetings to cease and then, catching the doorman’s glance, motioned towards the door::   it looks like our table is ready…. Shall we?  ::his hand slipped behind Mina’s lower back as a guide:::

Order of Seating: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ | Mina         | 

| Jan  Erik |

| Laszlo  Moore |

::They were seated at a round 6 top with an off-white tablecloth, silver-toned dinnerware, and a squat centerpiece of cream-white roses.  The host placed all their napkins on their laps, then removed the centerpiece, before explaining a server would come shortly to start their drinks and starters order. An attendant whizzed over and filled their water goblets, followed immediately by a slender young man in white dress shirt, black trousers and black apron.  A serving towel draped on his left arm.  He introduced himself as Ian.  Moore quickly instructed Ian to bring him the billet.  Erik tried to interject, but Moore insisted sternly, and Erik relented with a chuckle.

Moore and Kreizler removed their gloves and tucked them away in their coat pockets.  Kreizler leaned his cane into the corner of the wall between Jan and Mina.

The men ordered Cab Sauvs, Mina ordered a dry Riesling.  Moore ordered a caviar tower and vodka for the men, bread and butter for the table, and Mina ordered a Little Gem salad:: Well then...::Moore addressed their table, then looked to Kreizler::  Surprise!  ::He fanfared quietly at the Doctor, sitting back in his chair::

Yes! ::Kreizler snorted softly, blushing lightly, chin dipping, eyes flashing to his empty bread plate::  John said we were meeting an old colleague and swore secrecy.  I am very much surprised to see you again.  ::He smiled kindly to Jan.  Jan smiled back lightly.  He turned his eyes to Erik and Mina then::  And accepting a dinner invitation with the Northmans, although certainly appreciated, was quite unexpected.

::he paused, took a moment to breathe and sip his water.  Then he continued, glancing from Jan to Erik::  Let's get any business there may be out of the way now, as I've been impressed this is not a formal meeting but one for communing and I'm very much inclined to enjoy the respite tonight <pause, light smile>

Doctor Mykolas told John you have questions regarding Enzo's treatment plan.  ::It wasn't a question he stated to Erik::

::Erik sipped his wine::  Well yes and no.  Not to compartmentalize or minimalize your fields of study or any counsel you provide. But he's not a SHIELD agent, a war criminal, a troubled orphan, a sexual predator.  Whatever.  So, I kind of find it odd that you'd be treating Enzo at all.  ::he glanced to Mina::  When we met him in Chicago, he gave off a vibe, which I can't explain, but that made me feel like this guy's story is quite legitimate and he needed more than a helping hand to get his life back together.  There was something about him that just struck me in a way that made me talk to Mina about how he just made me feel like he somehow was trustworthy, genuine... I don't know.  Special?  So, yeah, we basically took the little lost puppy home.

We've invited him into our home to offer him sanctuary from the ridiculous persecution for a crime <air quotes> he didn't commit, while serving a government that likes placing extraordinary people in pretty unethical situations, then exploits their skills and intelligence.  We are hoping this time with us will give him time to likely rehome his family and regain his autonomy.  Again, not to disrespect you in any way, please, truly.  But he's yet to show us any side to him that would warrant more than what Doctor Ryan can offer as a qualified clinical psychologist who specializes in providing counseling and resources for soldiers with PTSD.

::Erik paused as their server and one other attendant brought the caviar tower, vodka, bread and butter, and Mina's wee salad.::

I'm not trying to rustle up any animosity or whatever, I'm just honestly curious.  Is it because of your interests in soldiers with unique experiences, specifically anything revolving around the Erskine, Zola, Zemo, Zima, Supersoldier projects? <pause>

I say soldiers, but I guess anybody who has been involved directly or indirectly I guess with the experiments.  And of course, the fact that the crime Enzo supposedly committed involved a lycan.  ::he made eye contact with Moore, whose lower lids twitched and he gave Erik a tiny smile::

::Kreizler watched Moore begin helping himself to the small medallions of Russian flatbread called blinis, savory herbs, orange and lemon rounds, and soured cream cheese.  He arranged two medallions topped with cheese and rosemary on his bread plate, then spooned a large dollop of blue-black caviar onto the flat of his thumb, adjacent his left wrist.  In fact the whole table now watched Moore then squeeze some orange juice onto the fish eggs.  He then lifted his hand to his mouth and fed himself the caviar, squishing the salty delicacy against his palate, then popped in one of the blini.  He chewed strongly then, taking a deep breath through his nose and humming it out again, happily enjoying his snack.  His cheeks dimpled deeply when he realized he was being watched.  He chuckled and dabbed at his thumb with his cloth napkin::

::Mina picked up her fork, listening To Erik intently as she watched the two me. Across from her for their reactions.  Neither gave any indication of worry or of being upset so She forked a bite of salad, chewing It slowly, savoring the champagne vinaigrette. She wasn’t exactly Sure of Erik’s concerns but trusted him and his reasoning implicitly.

Please, join me! ::Moore motioned to the caviar tower::  This is an outstanding selection. Come on!  Dig in!  ::Jan and Erik took their queue and both began serving themselves.::

::Kreizler's dark eyes watched them a moment longer then focused solely on Erik::  You've hit the nail on the head, Mr. Northman.  ::He paused, snorting softly, amused, lips tweaking a tiny bewitched smirk::  But first please let me preface!  ::He began again::

I won't deny that I have been accused of egoism before.  It is also true that I'm not ashamed to admit how pleased I am to have one of my greatest ambitions presented to me so succinctly.  

You see, Mr. Northman, Enzo's tenure at Kamchatka involve precisely the type of experiences I've been retained to investigate and analyze for Captain Barnes' benefactor.  ::He offered Erik a complex expression.  It was both deeply engaged, as well as, perhaps, a bit sheepish for being so self-serving in his obsession with all things Zima Project-related.::  

It's no secret that his testimony provides us with vital information regarding the ongoing experiments taking place by other agencies, but also its effects on all persons involved, especially when autonomy is voided and such obscene liberties are taken on individuals who are as just as human as you and I <heavy pause>In return, he is offered political immunity, sanctuary, resource.  A safe place to heal and return to himself as quickly as possible.  Science, politics, and human welfare will always overlap as long as we strive for knowledge, I'm afraid.  In the interim, however, I do truly hope to act as much more than just a sounding board and recorder for Enzo.  

I want to impress him to accept what he has seen and now knows about these projects, and to instill in him a passion to allow his past to become his past, that now is the time to heal, re-root, regrow.  To be unafraid and unashamed of anything he may feel at any time; as he has experienced some grievous trauma, and he will continue to suffer some of the lasting effects of all he's endured, mind and body.

::Kreizler paused to sip his water, catch his breath::

First and foremost, I'm a doctor of the mind.  Part of the oath I took says that I'm here to share my knowledge and to do no further harm.  

None of us are unaware of the fact that the total arrangement does in fact rely on the aforementioned agreement for the entire situation to benefit all parties involved.  Enzo is being offered asylum in return for information regarding his experiences with the Zima Project and I am far better equipped to audit those experiences than Doctor Ryan, especially in regards to its subjects.  

May I add that both Doctor Ryan and I are one-hundred percent available to support and guide him psychologically, emotionally, and even physically, at any time, for as long as he needs and it is possible while he seeks restoration.

He is special, Mr. Northman.  We all want to ensure he remembers that and continues to fight for his sentience.  And for justice.  Not just for himself, but for all of those who've been marred by such abominable exploitation.

::Kreizler and Erik shared a long quiet gaze.  Kreizler's jaw worked.  His throat clicked.  His lids flickered.  He was clearly moved by the testimony shared to him by Enzo, and he steeled himself against any overt emotion which may show how deeply he felt regarding that abuse.  

Erik offered him a lightly, kind smile::  Doctor, I've no doubt your primary concern is his welfare and not yours.  As they say, your reputation precedes you. ::<heavy pause>  He glanced to Jan, watching him quietly.  Erik considered a moment then; looked to Mina and back to the Hungarian-American alienist::  Perhaps we just needed to hear it.  ::His smile broadened::  And Doc, feel free to call me Erik.

::Mina, who was watching Erik as he served himself the caviar, glanced at Kreizler as he spoke and then back to Erik. She considered that some people may have found offense in Erik’s questioning, but she knew that there truly wasn’t an offense there. Only concern.  And she was relieved that it didn’t appear Kreizler took it so.  She reached for her wine glass and took a sip.  Watching men talk shop was always interesting::

((we're going to pretend they already ordered their mains))

::Kreizler nodded lightly at Erik, then added his own query::  Then, is that all settled?

Yeah absolutely.  That was far more than I was even expecting.  ::Erik smiled back at him::

::Moore scooped and handed Kreizler a tiny, gilded spoonful of the Kaluga caviars.::  This one's more mild than the Beluga.  I think you'll like it better.  Almost like unagi.

Definitely.  ::Offered Jan::  The Sevruga is by far the strongest flavor.

::Kreizler took the spoon and tried the roe.  He nodded::  Yes, much lighter.  ::Moore handed him a shot of vodka.  Rather than shoot the whole thing though, Kreizler merely sipped if halfway full.  He nodded again, jaw undulating.::  Yes, yes.  Very nice.

::Moore looked to Mina then::  I assume you're not a fan of caviar?

Ewww gosh no! ::Mina started::

Mina, isn't a fan of anything seafood.  ::Jan interjected::  But she'll match your appetite for rum cocktails.

Caviar is certainly not a palate for everyone ::Moore grinned at her::  And it's true, beside my cruel mistress, irish whiskey, I have no problem admitting my penchant for daiquiris, mojitos, and hurricanes.

Or anything else sweet and sour and flowing freely ::Kreizler added, huffing a light, amused laugh::

Ha ha ha indeed! ::Moore beamed at him::  Laszlo, what was it that gamin pilot said to us that time outside of France?  'Puke and rally'?

::Kreizler's brow flinched, his eyes flashed::  John...!  ::he scolded quietly, perhaps concerned the lady would be offended by the use of the word 'puke'.::

::Mina couldn’t stop the giggle:::   Well that’s one way I’ve never heard before.   I’ll have to remember that one…. 

::she glanced at Kreizler, still smiling:::  listen…I know we all want what is best for Enzo.  And I hope you know it’s not a matter of not trusting you… because I do believe that we can trust you.  Trust is important.  Erik and I feel quite protective of Enzo and are keeping eye on all of the support he receives and will intercede when necessary…. NOT that either of us believe that will ever be necessary.  

So…. ::she glances at Erik questioningly:::  if my husband Has no more concerns…  I would like to avoid talking shop and use this lovely occasion and dinner to get to know you better….::looks to Kreizler and Moore::  

Oh you know me, babe!  I always have questions ::  Erik grinned at her and she chuffed a laugh back at him::

Trust is of utmost importance with all relationships.  ::Kreizler addressed Mina.:: Without it transactions are merely primordial.  A lion doesn't trust the elk.  Nor does the shark trust the whale.  They simply hunt.  Purely instinctual.  But the moment a credible circumstance is made, a bond is formed.  Once the lion trusts elk will graze in a certain area, he returns to that area to hunt...

::Jan interjected::  I disagree with your examples, but not entirely with your theory.

::Kreizler gazed at him coolly::  Excuse me..?

::Jan::  A shark's performance is purely sensual.  A lion learns.  And shark never hunt whale.  They scavenge their corpses.

OK, let's not over-analyze each other's pedantry. ::Moore scoffed, eyes narrowing at Jan, then Kreizler.::  Mina's right.  Let's have more play than work now, please.

::Jan smirked at him, his upper lip slanting, golden-brown eyes crinkling::  Forgive me, John. 

::Moore smirked back then and shook his head::  

Agreed! ::Erik almost barked it.  He finished his wine and an attendant refilled his glass almost immediately::  How did you two meet?  ::his eyes moved between their guests::

::Moore looked to Kreizler.::  Who's turn is it?  ::he smiled lightly, showing his perfect fangs and gorgeous dimples::

Yours I believe ::Kreizler replied.::

Very well ::Moore also finished his wine and the attendant addressed his glass::  We were nine and our parents met in similar circles.  Mine was an investment broker and Kreizler was a publisher.  Publishers need money to grow their business, and brokers allocate money.  So, we had many opportunities to play when our fathers discussed finances.  

Play?  ::Kreizler mused::

::Moore chuffed at him::  Yes, we played.  Coloring and hide'n seek are playing.  

::Erik couldn't help but snicker at the concept of these men coloring.  Even as boys the idea somehow struck him funny.::

We certainly were scolded enough for hiding behind draperies or ducking into unlocked closets! ::Moore added with a little laugh.::

::Erik snickered again and the men looked to him curiously::  I'm sorry!  Th-those are really cute images ::he sputtered, still snickering.  He quickly stuffed the one image that had actually tickled him:  Nine-year old boys hiding in closets together.::

::Moore smiled back at him then innocently.  Clearly he bought Erik's fib.  

He and Kreizler both actually wore an air of naivete to them which was both unexpected for their ages, but also charming.  It wasn't often you found the long-lived with much virtue left intact.  But these two, especially Moore, sincerely exhibited an expressive, honest, unpresuming way about him usually reserved for schoolchildren or pastoral clergymen.  It was endearing and maybe even a little refreshing.  

It was also odd considering Jan had told Erik and Mina that Moore was known to be promiscuous.  Loose men were rarely moderate in any way, and almost never possessed an unassuming mindset, not constantly overflowing with flirty quips, or naughty references.::

We also attended Harvard together.  While he studied psychology, I studied journalism. ::Moore added::

That's a long time to be friends ::Erik::

Indeed it is ::Moore flashed a bright, warm grin at Kreizler, who flinched a smile and immediately glanced downward, blushing::

You're Lycan ::Erik stated::

::Moore gazed at Erik now almost inquisitively::  I am.

Born or turned? ::Erik::

Born.  Apparently my paternal Grandfather was full lycan; born in Scotland in 1605.  I never met him but according to my grandmother I look just like him. ::Moore offered a small, almost sad smile::  

He hid his moon-sickness from most people, most of his life.  ::he continued then::  Although once he moved to America and met my grandmother, whose family was very progressive, he found her to be much more receptive to his disposition and ended up finally marrying and settling down.

::Erik::  Do you shift?

::Moore::  I have but rarely do

::Erik::  Why rarely?

::Moore::  Not much reason to..?  ::he half-asked::

There're plenty of reasons to allow your body to stretch out its natural forms. ::Erik cocked his head::  Wouldn't you agree, Doctor Kreizler?  Oppression of the carnal senses creates impulsivity and anxiety.  And physiologically, can prevent our bodies from purging stress and toxins properly.

There's some truth in that, Erik.  ::Kreizler responded quietly::

I assure you I have plenty of outlets for my body and mind, Erik ::Moore grinned slyly::

Well, not that there's no countryside in New York, but while you're here you should really explore that more.  I think you'll find it personally rewarding, and the culture practically expects it so you should find little prejudice.  ::Erik offered::

I wouldn't recommend stalking the French Quarter on your hind legs though.  That could cause some distraction.  ::Jan chuckled::   

::Mina laughed at Jan’s comment::: no.. no not at all. ::she was still smiling as she set her nearly empty glass on the table, her fingers remaining to rest lightly on the fine glass stem::  the Vieux Carre is far better suited for more covert stalking..  but Jan is correct- there are miles and miles… ::pauses:: upon miles of wild land to run.  ::she picks up a slice of warm molasses and oat bread from the bread plate and covers it with the fresh butter::maybe you will come for a run with us during your stay here.

A run?  ::Moore asked her::

Mm-hm!  ::Mina nodded back::  We shift and go out running and hunting.  Sometimes we extend an invitation to our other Lycan family and friends to join us for an evening out exploring and playing outdoors.  Most that can, shift to wolfen form.  Sometimes a few will choose Crinos, or battle form, but usually we just form a pack of wolves and head out.  

We call it a Run. It's a lot of fun and it does seem to work the body differently than just working out like a human.  It definitely helps the mind with stress and anxiety, like Erik mentioned.  I highly recommend it, too!

Yes!  I've absolutely heard about these Runs.  ::Moore beamed at her, flashing his teeth, eyes crinkling, wagging a finger::  

I've never taken part in a group, or a uh pack <he laughs> like that, but I've certainly communed with other Lycan at parties, or exhibitive events.  I've even attended a couple rallies about Evolved rights.  

Did you?  ::Kreizler interjected, dabbing a bit of balsamic reduction from his mustache::

Oh yes!  ::Moore grinned at him::  Uh let's see, Summer of 60 something...oh what was it...? ::Moore frowned, puzzling for the date::

Where was it?  ::Jan asked::

::Moore:: Rhinebeck, Hudson Valley, New York.

::Jan::  64.

That sounds right.  ::Moore nodded at Jan::  1964.  ::he returned his gaze to his companion::  And another in '86.  Same place.

::Kreizler finished chewing his Filet and swiped his mustache again.  He pondered a moment, gazing silently at Moore, as Moore waited patiently for the Doctor to speak again.  Kreizler's brow furrowed lightly::  I recall you visiting Georgia in '86.

::Moore's lips parted, then closed again.  He cocked his head at Kreizler::  Uh...Georgia?  ::he asked quietly, tightly::

Yes, you flew to Atlanta to research a piece for a story you'd been following some time.  ::Kreizler blinked at Moore temperately::  Wasn't that another equal rights sort of assembly?

::Moore's neck flushed.  He swallowed dryly.  He cocked a brow.:: No. Uhm...::Moore's head twitched.  His tongue dug at a molar::  It was a court case.

Court case...?  ::Kreizler sipped his wine.::  Why does that escape me?

::Moore cleared his throat and lowered his voice slightly:: Laszlo, it was that slippery slope case involving a young man's private life.  ::he felt Jan's gaze on him, and his green eyes flicked across the table.  Jan gave him one, tiny nod to tell Moore he knew which case was in question.  Moore's jaw dropped.  He huffed a brisk sigh::

::Kreizler glanced to Jan, then looked up at Moore again, brows pinching, even more confused now.  Moore cocked his head at him, raising his eyebrows.  His ears burned with embarrassment now::  Laszlo..!  I'll explain later.

::That's when Kreizler's expression seemed to melt from his features.  And his own jaw dropped open::  

Oh.  ::he breathed.  his dark eyes grew glossy, and he also blushed.  He suddenly locked eyes with Mina, sitting across the table from him.  She offered a tiny, kind smile.  Nonetheless, his realization in mixed company mortified him and his gaze plunged to his half-eaten meal before him::  Oh, John... I'm so sorry.

It's fine ::Moore grimaced a smile at him.  His shoulder twitched, dropped; left hand lifted from the table, fingers opened.  It seemed he was going to reach out to his friend, but then he didn't.  He just withdrew the arm altogether to place his sweaty palm on his thigh.  

He coughed a nervous laugh then, and flashed his otherwise very happy, glittery green eyes to the others at the table.  He grinned brightly and lifted his wine in a quick toast::  Moving on!  ::And chugged a huge swig from his Cab Sauv::

::Mina is quiet a moment, chewing a small bite of her filet.  After swallowing and taking a hearty sip of wine, she looked at Kreizler::  and you?  You are obviously long lived but not a lycan..  ::pauses::  Are you sanguinarian? 

I believe that is the most popular appellation. ::Kreizler responded.  He gazed back at her rather blankly, right hand on his thigh, left wrist perched on the table's edge.  Mina could almost see the tension visibly leaving his body as he exhaled a long, silent sigh.  A tenuous flame returned to his eyes and he offered her a hint of a smile::  

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