<<< Introduction à la Soumission, [Mastermind Sr.]

[Tarot]

Early March 2012, Noon

---

It had only been a week or so since her twenty-first birthday had come and gone, but Marie still found herself situated in a state of great joy and excitement. The ingénue had auspiciously acquired a position within the ranks of the Hellfire Club’s branch in her beloved city of New York and was now on her way to meet with her liaison, Jason Wyngarde. A man otherwise known as Mastermind to those in the know, and once titled “mon amour” by the young woman’s grand-mére. It was a combination of her grandmother’s gracefully orchestrated string-pulling and his word of good faith that was the final push needed to cement her inclusion as a Pawn of the White Court.

A large portion of her life had been a concentrated effort in preparation for this day, a prophecy fulfilled – and Marie held quite a bit of knowledge in that clairvoyant arena. She knew that it would come to pass, or rather, she was fairly certain. The future never speaks in specifics or inevitabilities, but it was nevertheless of little surprise to the woman when the news came.

The sun shone overhead like a beacon of things to come. The symbolism was quite apt to describe Marie-Ange’s expectations. After all, the cards had shown themselves to be in her favor this morning. Still, she reminded herself of the warning her grandmother had imparted to her the day prior.

"The Hellfire Club is a haven for the powerful and influential, ma petit chérie. None are more at home there than Jason Wyngarde, who uses his every advantage, both earned and taken, to accrue even more power than he has already amassed over these long years. Treat him as a friend and you yourself might blossom into a lady of standing under his tutelage, but always remember that this is a dangerous game. You must be sure that you are always in control of your hand, non? Caution is key when surrounded by Hellfire."

As her taxi approached their rendezvous point, a restaurant where Jason assured her she could partake in authentic French food (something she had been sorely missing during her time in America, land of burgers and fries), the fresh-faced Marie quickly readied herself for the meeting. After a quick touch-up of powder and a few crisp bills slipped to the driver, she exited the cab and found herself engulfed in the bustling atmosphere of New York. The towering skyscrapers of Manhattan provided little in the way of shade during high noon, Marie’s scarlet hair looking ablaze in the sun-drenched glow whilst her skin shone like white marble. She advanced on the quaint café straight head and greeted the host with a cheerful flash of teeth.

“Bonjour! I believe I have a reservation. It should be under Wyngarde, party of two. Has my friend arrived yet?”

[Jason Wyngarde]

As Jason strolled leisurely along the bustling sidewalk he once again found himself lost in contemplation. This time it was over a pretty young face, one that he personally had not seen for more than seven or possibly even eight years now. Marie was all grown up, and she was as lovely as her grandmother Angelique if the pictures he’d had taken of her were any indication.

His historical relationship with the clairvoyant Angelique had been scandalous to say the least. She outranked him in those days, and he had been more than happy to acquiesce when she had made the extra-marital proposal. Angelique was a vivacious and cunning woman with more than a hint of authority about her. Many men had been drawn to that power, but she had chosen him, a Rook at the time-and he had never honestly questioned the motives as being above carnal desire.

Until now.

Their time together had been passionate and intense, though ultimately it had been short-lived. Though Jason never had intentions of pursuing a long-standing relationship with anyone, the fact that she had been the one to cut it short somehow had wounded his pride a little. Still..she had helped him somewhat in what took place soon after. There had been a Parisian plot to beguile New England’s King Forge with a beautiful French telepath, planted there with clear subterfuge in mind for the motive. Jason had managed to avert it, ingratiating himself to the White King in New England and providing for himself an avenue of transfer, as the White Bishop in that American Club.

But there was always a part that didn’t quite make sense to him. Angelique was a fairly accomplished precog. Jason knew from firsthand experience how often she had peered through the curtains of time and successfully counseled the Parisian Court to a successful conclusion. He’d often wondered, why had she not warned the court of his impending treachery. She must have seen it coming, and she was the only factor in his plan that had worried him considerably. If she had turned him in he would most certainly not be alive today, pushing open the restaurant doors and being led to the table where sweet, young Marie was already waiting.

It was not a mystery that he would likely find immediate answers to. Pushing the matter aside, he smiled warmly at Marie, and took her hand in his white gloved hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. Not exactly the greeting a Bishop gave a Pawn, but this was no ordinary Pawn. “Marie, my dear you are a lovely vision.” His eyes took her in appreciatively, not lingering long before respectfully locking back on her eyes.

Another Pawn busied himself with disinfecting the restaurant chair, wiping it down thoroughly with Clorox wipes while Jason removed his gloves. Glancing up he saw her watching the Pawn and raised his brows. “Please wipe down the lovely Ms. Colbert’s seat as well,” he said over his shoulder. Then he smiled at her charmingly. “You can never be too careful. They use the same dishrag to wipe down counters, tabletops, even floors.” He grimaced. “Though I do expect that a place like this has better standards in general, it never hurts to be careful.”

The Pawn finished with the seats and with a glance Jason indicated that he should pull out Marie’s chair first. And then they were both seated, and Jason was studying her again intently. “It really is remarkable,” he said. “You look so much like your grandmother.”

[Tarot]

Jason’s arrival was both pleasant and slightly unnerving in its cheerfully pompous way. His genteel appearance, complete with blithering adherent, was entirely unchanged from the memories Marie-Ange held of him from her youth. Though she was aware of his gift, it was still a revelation to see that he’d gained no wrinkles or lost any color among the thick strands of his flourished coif. She wondered what the illusionist truly looked like beneath the psychic veil, but was not altogether opposed to his outwardly handsome visage at the moment. Wyngarde was a vision from an ever-fading past given form and substance before her.

She recalled the various social events where he and her grand-mére would often talk for hours on end whilst she would twiddle her thumbs in boredom at their uninteresting talks. That is, uninteresting for a pre-adolescent, of course. Now, she felt as though she should have paid more attention to the way her grandmother was able to charm such powerful men with the batting of eyelashes and a taciturn smile. As the man directed his Pawn to sanitize their seats, Marie looked toward Jason with a pleasant look decorating her Raphaelan features.

“Oh, that’s quite true I suppose. One can never be too careful,” she said dreamily.

The Frenchwoman secretly hoped that she would not be expected to wipe down seats during her tenure as a Pawn. After thanking the fellow, she quickly sat down and placed her hands daintily upon the table, fingers entwined. Marie-Ange was the very picture of poise.

“It really is remarkable. You look so much like your grandmother.”

Before the young woman could reply, they were interrupted by the waitress. A waif of a girl with a mouse-like voice, she handed them a pair of menus before promising to return with a basket of bread and two cold glasses of water – standard restaurant fare to tide one over while the cooks busied themselves for what often seemed like an eternity at these haute cuisine establishments.

“Yes, well anyway… My grand-mére is a beautiful woman so I will gladly take the compliment, M’sieur, however late my response may be due to interjections,” she said with a coquettish giggle. “I did want to thank you for meeting me here and I know my grand-mére would also like to extend her thanks for doing me this favor.”

Marie would have liked to say that Angelique spoke highly of Jason, but that would have been a lie. The elder woman often spoke of Jason in factual terms, no true emotion discernible behind her words. Still, her descriptions of him and his accomplishments were quite impressive to the young prescient. She took a quick flip through the menu and perused through the wine list with a special attentiveness.

“Are you of the American school of thought that wine is for after the sun has set, M’sieur Wyngarde? Or has your time across the vast seas not yet made you abandon your French sensibilities? I would very much like to partake in a glass of crimson nectar, but only if you would indulge to share with me.”

[Jason Wyngarde]

After Jason claimed his seat he began pulling off the tight-fitting white gloves with calculated deliberateness as he looked at the lovely young Marie across from him. She was a perfect picture of poise, brought on only by generations of the finest breeding and a lifetime of training no doubt. He smiled at her as he handed the gloves to the Pawn next to him without bothering to look up. In more ways than one, she was a pleasure to behold.

“Your grand-mére is in many ways a remarkable woman,” he agreed with a twinkle in his eye. “And I assure you-the pleasure is mine. This will be your unofficial welcome to the New England Hellfire Club.” Jason’s smile only had the barest of predatory hints in it, though he let his eyes hold hers just a moment longer than was probably conventional.

Stalling the waitress with a lifted hand he waited for Marie to finish before placing an order for two glasses of fine wine in his native tongue. Though he had little use with speaking French these days, he found that it still fit him well and the waitress nodded at him with a dainty smile before gracefully making her departure. Behind him the Pawn stood at the ready, and Jason turned his attention back to Marie with a charming smile. “My dear, there is much that I would share with you.”

Turning to the Pawn, he gave him leave. He would know to wait for him in the car, and Jason could summon him with an illusion at any given moment if the need should arise. When they were alone, Jason looked her over again. Such a lovely little flower…such a perfect little lady. He felt a hollow stirring from deep within.

“Starting out in a new branch, so far away from home,” he summarized thoughtfully with an absent tone. “It might do you well to have someone watching out for you. Someone who can…show you the ropes, as it were.”

The waitress had brought them their wine glasses, and somehow managed to do it without Jason even noticing. He picked up the glass and held it up to her. “There are vicious wolves in the Hellfire Club. No doubt your grand-mére has told you the stories. It’s in your best interest to know how to play the political games.”

As he took a sip he crossed one leg over the other and studied her again. “Though maybe your grand-mére had things to say about me as well…non?” His smile was playful. “No matter. You can trust me, Marie. In fact…you just might need to one day.”

[Tarot]

“I hope that that which you wish to share with me are your close-held secrets to success, M’sieur,” she said with a teasing grin. “Aside from the pinot noir, bien entendu.”

The man’s carefully calculated innuendo was not completely lost on Marie-Ange, though she attributed his attempts at charm to innocent showboating. Indeed, Jason’s reputation as a connoisseur of enchanting vernacular poetries was not misgiven. The dismissal of his Pawn allowed the reserved young woman a reprieve from the pressures of an audience. ‘T was a thing that often inhibited her, onlookers, though she’d been able to push past her socially timid nature in recent years. With the departure of the illusionist’s shadow, she could be more open with her questions – of which she had many.

When the waitress brought forth the wine, Marie took a delicate sip before turning her attention back toward Jason as he presented his offer. With the crystal stem held confidently in her gentle grasp, the Frenchwoman leaned in to drink in his words. His illusory smile sent the faintest hint of a shiver down her straightened spine.

“Interesting how you speak of wolves with a Lothario’s grin upon your face, non? Either way, mon ami, I will admit that I am not one that is tailor made for the political game. This New England offshoot is quite different from its Parisian sister and I am, as you know, in a difficult position what with my acceptance hot on the heels of that Christmastime disaster. Therefore, I do welcome any help you would offer.”

She mirrored his movements, crossing her slender legs as he also did before continuing, “It’s true, my grand-mére was the one who encouraged me to seek your aid, though she also warned me of your illustrious ambition. I am not unwilling to help you, but it shall be behind you or beside you, not underneath your heel. I won’t be stepped upon in anyone’s ascension, I trust.”

Marie took a moment to pause, both for effect and to call over the waitress for her order.

“Granted, I know my place among the Hellfire Club. I don’t consider myself your equal. That would be arrogant and it’s a trait I would like to think I lack, but I am more than my often-timorous exterior. When moralities align, feel free to count on me.”

[Jason Wyngarde]

Jason took a thoughtful sip of the wine as he regarded her initial remark. It was to the point, but like much of what she said was obtuse enough to have multiple meanings. His lips quirked in the barest of smirks. Marie, it would seem, inherited far more than her grand-mére’s resplendent beauty. She might be soft spoken, and bat her eyes with naiveté, but beneath that illusion she was as sharp as Angelique ever was. He had to be careful not to make the mistake of underestimating this one.

“Dear Marie, I sense that you will go very far on your own talents,” he enthused sincerely. “Though I do suppose it never hurt to have someone alongside for guidance…” Whether he was talking about her guiding him or the other way around was up for debate. Because if there was one thing that Jason did not have the tendency to promote it was charity. Dear sweet little Marie was going to have to give a little to get a little.

And from what he could decipher, she had a lot to give.

For a moment the two sat opposite each other, mirroring one another in posture and expression. She was a curious little creature, and he found himself chuckling at the ‘Lothario’s grin’ comment. Still, he did not deny that she had caught his eye on more than one level. Neither did he admit it.

He held his silence while she accepted his offer of assistance, noting with pleasure that she did so only with very specifically outlined terms. “You have an instinct for business,” he said, “guarded and shrewd…without discounting any advantage.” He set down his glass and pointed at her. “I am truly impressed.” He was not in any hurry to order, and with a look toward the perceptive waitress, he bought them some more time. She nodded at him and disappeared toward the kitchen, likely to check on them once again in a few minutes.

“Your allegiance is to the Hellfire Club, and to the White Court first and foremost,” he said out of necessity. It would never do to have her start off on the wrong foot after all, and having this in her mind should someone stray upon her thoughts would bode well for all. “Though I must admit, as I share wisdom with you…I would be glad to catch glimmers of what you see with your particular…gifts.”

Having someone with a form of precognitive ability on his side would be invaluable.

“Not to mention how charmed I would be to be in the presence of such a beautiful young lady, of course.” He grinned at her again, this time with a playful wink. An image popped onto the table, a miniature Jason accompanying a miniature Angelique. They stood beside a crystal glass of water, almost as tall but very real.

“Do you know that Angelique and I worked together in a similar fashion?” The figures moved across the table, visible only to Jason and Marie. Stepping over the polished silver, they moved over next to the candle and danced to unsung music. “It was a bit more difficult, being from different courts…but she taught me a great many things.”

Jason looked up from the illusion at Marie, not really having to feign the expressiveness on his face entirely. “And I am somewhat indebted to her.”

[Tarot]

Marie could not help but mentally grin at Jason’s affirmation of her ‘instinct for business’. However, she did well in masking her amusement amidst her reticent demeanor. Better to allow the man to believe it was all purposeful on her part. The young woman had never paid much attention to her grandmother’s teachings on the subject of enterprise, though she supposed that instinct and interest were not mutually inclusive.

“Another compliment, M’sieur? Is such flattery a custom among the Court or merely one of your qualities?” she asked rhetorically, a soft giggle in tow. “Still, I admit that I do feel a compulsion to return the favor of your sagacious insight in some way. Gifts are to be given, sont-ils pas?”

Marie’s willowy fingers searched within her purse for the presence of her constant companion, emerald eyes never breaking contact with Jason as she did so. When her fingertips traced the edge of the deck, she plucked the collection of cards from their case and placed it upon the table with such respect as was given to the most valuable of diamonds. The Frenchwoman gave them a quick shuffle before the apparition of her grand-mére materialized before her and a miniature titter of fascinated delight escaped her lips.

“Oh, how lovely,” she said with an amorous nuance whilst she watched the figures waltz across the dining cloth. “I did have prior knowledge of your work with my grand-mére, actually. She told me you two accomplished a great many things together in your time as partners.”

Marie-Ange made no mention of the romantic connotations of his past relationship with her grandmother. In truth, she had very little knowledge of it beyond the simple fact that there was once attraction between the two. If it had ever culminated into anything past emotional companionship, she did not know, nor did she really put any weight to it. According to her thoughts, it simply was and then was no longer.

“Now, my abilities work differently than those of my grand-mére, though I trust you will find them adequate enough for your liking and hopefully more so.”

After laying the tarot out before her, a mystical air inherent in her every movement, Marie then motioned for Jason’s hand. She took hold of the back of his wrist and placed his fingers atop the cards, her touch gentle and distant. A faint image flashed across her mind’s eye before she had even begun with the meat of it.

“Well, I can say with great confidence that you are thinking of ordering the bourguignon, but I really must object and recommend the bouillabaisse in its place,” she said with a wink. “Now, simply point to any six cards and your fortune shall be laid bare to me in the seconds after.”

[Jason Wyngarde]

To his delight and surprise, Jason found that he was enjoying this rendez-vous tremendously. Far too often he found himself in the presence of individuals who barely seemed to have a grasp on their own native tongue. This marvelous young lady however, seemed capable of not only keeping up, but showed promise and propensity of something far greater yet. The best part was that her true intent was hidden craftily within her replies. Though he supposed that he did have a good idea of what was going on in that lovely little head of hers, he was still just a little unsure…and the challenge of it all thrilled and excited him.

With regard to her observations about his compliments, Jason only offered the barest lift of his brows in response. “I trust you do not find me…insincere,” he said with a mixed and indecipherable tone that almost seemed to be in part a veiled threat. It would be wise of her no matter how enticing she was, to know her place.

But the overtones were sublime, and the mood was too frivolous to be so easily marred. He enchanted her with miniature figures on the tabletop, carefully studying the sparkle of her eyes as she watched him dance across the tabletop with Angelique. The wonderment in her expression was priceless, and she glimmered like jewels in the moonlight. His eyes fell on the deck of cards, set there reverently by a delicate porcelain hand.

So this was how her powers worked? It was different than that of her grandmother…he had been present during more than one of Angelique’s encompassing visions that seemed to sway over her and distract her to those things only visible by her. Jason complied when she reached for his hand, relishing the warmth of her as she set it gently on the top of the cards. He could not escape the suspicion that this was some sort of parlor trick, one of hundreds of card tricks that he himself had employed on numerous occasions. It hardly felt like it had a scrap of validity…though the intensity of her gaze kept his scoffing at bay.

He found himself smiling at her words. “But oh my dear…the bourguignon is spectacular.” Not yet a believer, he opted to take his chances on that one. Still, he decided to play into this game for all it was worth, and with nimble fingers he pulled free six random cards, face down and slid them away from the deck. Perhaps his smirk revealed something of his thoughts as he leaned back with twinkling eyes and considered her carefully.

[Tarot]

The illusionist had selected his cards, unknowingly choosing which facets of his future existence would be revealed to Marie’s mind’s eye. She allowed the tips of her fingers, positively stirring with psychic energy, to linger for a second upon the card faces as she flipped each one in the order Jason had chosen them. Visions began to flow into her thoughts as the veil of time was torn asunder and the astral energy that churned within her formed a mental bridge, a path to days not yet past. Whilst Marie looked upon the cards, the visions became clearer as her mind adjusted to Jason’s particular astral signature.

“The Fool, The Chariot, The Magician, The Tower, The Moon, and The Devil,” she stated with an austere air about her words, looking to Jason to ensure he was listening. “Now, The Fool is not an altogether negative card, M’sieur. It signifies the beginning of a journey, though it suggests that you may have to strip your thoughts of fear and obscurity in order to reevaluate your self-vision. Change is coming and risks will be taken.

“Now The Chariot,” she said as she tapped the card lightly. “The Chariot signifies an external battle where outside forces shall come into play. You will need conviction and willpower to ensure that your conquest is successful, however hard-won. Control your opposing emotions and direct them forward lest they pull you apart. Save your energy for what will come after the battle, oui?

“The Magician is an indication of your talents, the capabilities and resources you possess at your disposal. Tap into your full potential and don’t hold back, but beware the intoxication of power. Transformation awaits you in the guise of a guiding hand.”

Marie stopped there for a moment, knowledgeable of the darker meanings behind the remaining three cards. She took a small sip of wine before leaning further in toward Jason, her hand placed delicately upon her chin. The Frenchwoman studied his reaction to her words, scanning his face for any change of expression.

“Would you like me to continue, M’sieur Wyngarde? Or are you still unconvinced as to my talents?” she said with warm smile. “There are still three cards, three aspects of the unknown yet to divine, but I would like to be sure you find yourself ready to hear what I have to say.”

Taking the cards in hand, she looked around her to the other restaurant patrons. All were very much involved in their own conversations and the waiters were entrenched in the kitchen for one reason or another. She looked back to Wyngarde, her expression now taking on a more solemn appearance.

“I owe it to you, as an appreciated mentor and friend of my grand-mére’s to be honest with you. The next half of your fortune is riddled with warnings, but I believe they will prove to be most beneficial if heeded.”

[Jason Wyngarde]

Jason settled back in his seat after choosing the cards and watched Marie begin her craft. A smallish bemused smile toyed at the corners of his mouth as she started to flip the cards, studying each of them with such intensity. This was something unconventional.

He knew for a fact that Angelique had the gift of prophecy, though still he could not quite get past the props. Somehow, no matter how hard he tried, the cards made her seem more like a con artist on the street than a genuine prophet.

How did they do it anyway? Did they give you something obscure as a faith teaser first, some altruistic tidbit of nonsense like with hard work and persistence you will find what you seek. Then as they start to see how that particular brand of ‘truth’ works on you maybe they pepper in more and try to hit it closer to home.

Perhaps.

But Jason was not one that could be easily conned, and he already knew enough about Marie to suspect that she was a surprising young lady…a fact that made it that much more difficult for her to actually surprise him. Still, he watched her carefully and listened to her every word.

The set up was almost as predicted, though he had to admit that there was a conviction in her tone that lent just a hint of credibility. The Fool, The Chariot and the Magician all painted a very accurate picture of Jason, his motivations and his journey. The Fool spoke to him first, about his self-vision and what he could only interpret as his overly cautious approach toward it. The signs of amusement began to diminish on his face. Change is coming. Vague, yes…but the words hit home for him in a way and he had to take a contemplative sip of his wine before she continued.

With the Chariot he received the message of a very real conflict that was about to come, one that would tax his inner resources considerably. The vagueness of her message was maddening, though Jason would have been hard-pressed to say that he wasn’t drawn in by the allure of it all. As she continued with the Magician he found himself smiling once more. The Magician brought Nemesis to mind, and though the riddle of her words could literally be taken to mean anything at all…he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was talking about what he had discussed with Max only a few days ago.

But nobody could know about that. It was not possible. Finishing off his wine, he set the empty glass on the table and raised his brows at her. “I must admit, you have quite the flair for the dramatic,” he said appreciatively with a slight chuckle. “I for one can definitely see the value of that.” He spread his hands. “By all means, please don’t leave me waiting.”

But he wasn’t truthfully sure that he wanted to know…not really. Torn between belief and disbelief, he studied her with calculating narrowed eyes, paying attention to her every nuance. If there was something going on between the lines he would pick up on it-he was sure of it.

[Tarot]

Jason’s tickled grin left Marie-Ange somewhat fretful, seeing it as somewhat flippant on his part. The Pawn wasn’t entirely sure he was placing stock in her predictions, but his spellbound stare revealed the verity beneath his facade. As one who could perceive the future itself, Marie had quite a discerning character.

“Indeed, M’sieur. I shall continue as you request,” she said softy, skimming her hands across the remaining cards once more. “The Tower, in this case, would represent the paradigms constructed by one’s ego. However, as the great tower in the card is brought low by lightning’s fury, you may also find that your reality may not meet with expectations. You may be holding fast to false pretenses and might find it necessary to rethink your approach, as the truth may not oblige your plans.

“The Moon is a representation of illusion and fantasy. It may often have a connection to dreams, romanticism, and the obscured vision that inhabits both. This may lead to fear and apprehension in the wake of clarity’s absence.

“Your final card, The Devil, is the embodiment of self-bondage, an addiction to fulfilling one’s earthly base desires. Vices such as power, money, and sexual temptation may overwhelm and enslave. The card may also represent a person in your life, aggressive and persuasive. My warning to you is that the ties that bind are freely worn, M’sieur.”

[Jason Wyngarde]

Despite his reservations of this entire proceeding Jason listened very carefully to what Marie was saying. With the aid of illusion, their order had been placed and there was already a miniature entourage delivering their first course of soup, bread and a small salad as Marie continued to give her reading on him. He studied her lovely little eyes intently, measuring the warnings and taking note on how perceptive she appeared to be toward his own misgivings.

He was a lot more careful for the second half of the reading to keep his feelings under lock and key. Marie was obviously astute and intelligent-and if she honestly did have the gift that her grandmother had, even in the most remote way…he needed her on his side.

The warnings she gave had a lot more specific of a feel to them, though to his recollection they were still nowhere near as specific as the visions Angelique had. Still, he listened carefully, and tried to honestly weigh her words against himself. They seemed to ring true in many ways, and by the end he raised his brows appreciatively.

It was true, he was a slave to some desire. His eyes took her in again. And it was true enough that he’d willingly wear a few of those bonds for her. Jason dabbed at his lips with the white linen cloth again and smiled at her fondly.

“Most impressive,” he said, letting his smile slip into sobriety just a little. “And I certainly will keep those words in my heart. “Though I’m afraid it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.” His smile returned, and he put a hand over hers for a moment. “I honestly never doubted Angelique’s insight. I see no wisdom in doubting yours either.”

He kept his hand over hers and locked eyes with her, squeezing her hand lightly before letting it go. “Please forgive me, I took the liberty of ordering for us while you were busy. I trust you will like the food, and if you don’t…” He smiled. “I will be forced to take you to dinner all over again.”

Bringing the spoon up to his lips he took a slurping sip of the soup and smiled with twinkling eyes at her.

[Tarot]

Although Marie-Ange had allowed the illusionist to take embrace of her hand, she wasn’t entirely sure if it was due to an effect of his charms or simply because she knew her place. The gentle squeeze of his grasp felt oddly calloused in contrast to the smooth appearance of his palms, but it reminded the Frenchwoman of just whom she was dealing with. Jason Wyngarde was a character enveloped in falsehoods and it was quite possible that his Machiavellian charisma was just as much a fabrication as the illusory grin upon his mock face. The counsel of her grand-mére resonated loudly in her thoughts.

“It is lovely to know that at least a portion of me will lie in your heart, M’sieur, even if it is only my words,” she said with a coquettish smile.

Dinner was altogether delicious and, though she was surprised at first, incredibly authentic and faithful to the cuisine from her cherished France. She didn’t eat much, avoiding all bread and anything that would sour one’s breath, but the delicacies that passed her lips were savored to the fullest. A light sorbet for dessert was the perfect end to their lovely meal, though the night was far from over for the two Hellfire colleagues.

---

The vivacious shroud of night had begun to roll in for the City of New York, celestial skies dulled by the bright lights of all things metropolitan. From the window in Jason’s office, Marie caught a glimpse of the shifting scene as the yellows and reds of day transformed into hues of blue and violet. She turned to Jason with a smile as she stepped away from the windowpane and took another sip of the champagne she’d been nursing since their arrival.

<“I do appreciate you giving me the tour,”> she said in her native French. <”I had yet to explore the entirety of the Club’s grounds. They are quite lovely.”>

Slowly and methodically, she strode over to the White Bishop with an arm wrapped around her waist and another daintily holding the wine glass to her lips. After another small sip, she brought the crystal fluted glass down toward Jason’s own with a clink. She let her gaze linger upon his illusory eyes, allowing him to drink in their emerald green much as he did his white wine.

[Jason Wyngarde]

Still full of expensive wine and fine food, Jason strolled through the hallways toward his office with the lovely new Pawn. Whether or not it registered as unjust in the mind of the other Pawn who served him faithfully day in and day out mattered not at all to the Bishop. Jason did not make it a habit of having to explain himself to anyone save the King and Queen. But the short of it was that Tarot had certain assets that the other Pawn did not.

And he planned on employing those assets vigorously in the near future.

Jason curled his lips up in a smile as their glasses clinked. With one hand he brushed back a lock of red hair from her face and regarded her earnestly. “Come,” he said offering her his arm. “There is much that I want to show you.”

Leading the way from his office to another more private room, Jason opened the door and a soft light illuminated within when it swung inward. This was a place that was only frequented by Jason, and occasionally a visitor of the fairer variety. His eyes dropped over Marie’s body as she walked in and then he turned to the Pawn on the other side of the door.

“See to it that nobody disturbs us for the rest of the evening,” he said with a smile. Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him. The Pawn shook his head and turned around with an expression that seemed bound between irritation and amusement.

(~End Scene)