The Silver Fang reached up to draw back the door to the Night Owl and stepped inside, pulling it closed behind her; she had called sometime earlier in the week to arrange a time to stop by, to chat up some of the locals and today was the day. At the reception desk sat Jorge, the Gatekeeper whom had given up his night some odd weeks ago to see her across the moon bridge – another reason why she had elected to visit on this particular day. He looked up from whatever magazine he was entertaining when she entered.
“Hello Jorge-Rhya, it’s good to see you again. I apologize for putting it off for so long, but I wanted to thank you properly for seeing me safely across the moon bridge.” Her neck bared and she bowed her head slightly to show the proper courtesy and respect while she spoke, stopping before the receptionist’s desk to be looked over with a half-interested glance. “I hope today is still suitable for my visit. I was looking forward to catching up with a local Fianna that’s stationed here. Luke?” Pearly whites dug into the bottom lip as she asked after the garou, receiving a nod from the no-moon.
“Yeah, O’Connor? He’s inside. You’re good.” They gave a second acknowledgement to one another before she moved into the interior of the Caern. Before stepping away from the desk however, she opened her jacket and pulled out a slender bottle of Stoli. Lisa posed with the bottle and sat it on his desk with a smile. "Thank you again."
A soft clicking of three-inch heels sounded her entry as she paused just past the threshold, glancing around the spacious night club; Lisa took a moment to withdraw the phone from her leather jacket and hit a few keys. She went over her notes and set the device to vibrate before storing it again. The Fianna’s name had come up during her endeavors amongst the kinfolk and it seemed that she and the stag were after the same thing. The philodox had dressed a bit more conservatively today, opting for a pair of boot-cut, low rise jeans and black lace t-shirt – all covered by the Italian leather jacket that rode her shoulders and chest more like a bolero.
Lisa put a hand to her mouth and called out, “Luke O’Connor about?” the soft, feminine voice tinged with a steely authority as she moved towards the bar.
Luke had been sitting cross legged in a corner of the bar area when he heard his name being spoken. The Fianna looked up from the textbook on sports nutrition, dark eyes carefully scanning the room. It had been some time since one of the other Garou - well, one who was not one of the Elders - had come looking for him. Almost as long since he'd seen one of Falcon's children. He could practically smell it on her. The young man carefully uncrossed his legs, unsure of her rank but respectful of her bloodline. He had little enough love for the Fangs but he knew his prejudices when he saw them.
The young man got up, a lean handsome athlete in the casual shorts and t-shirt of a beach bum. He bowed slightly, his face spreading into a welcoming smile, before beckoning her over to the table.
"I'm Luke," he says simply, resuming his seat as he closed the book and lay it next to him. "You are?"
When a voice and face called back, her head snapped to the direction almost preemptively – he was sized up before she was upon him. His immediate appearance was dismissed in light of the obvious breeding; however, given her limited knowledge of Stag’s children she began preparing herself for anything. Including disappointment.
“Elizaveta Vasilchikova,” she returned his affectations with only a smile. “I’m from Golden Wings just outside of town; I was hoping we could discuss some mutual interests we seem to have.” The Silver Fang seated herself across from Luke before offering up a grateful nod; her hands planted flatly upon her lap, she began. “I’ve been conducting an investigation into the kin slayings that have been occurring these the last several weeks, and your name came up during. I was told that you were also looking into the matter and wanted to meet you, and to see if any coordination could be possible.” She studied the man before her, noting his apparent laziness and youth; it was not a judgment, but rather an observation. His mannerisms and dress would aid her in assimilating a similar persona, to better facilitate the encounter. Cooperation was all that she wanted out of this meeting and she remained hopeful that she could garner more than just lists from the High Ears sept.
