Looking for Mr Williamson

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina could just make out her reflection in the grimy glass covering a tawdry print on the wall. She patted her hair, the loose curls tumbling down about the extremely low bodice. She smirked, inwardly complacent, that her 'disguise' was as good as she could get it. Not that she was taking chances. No, no chances. It had taken a week to make the whores outfit and then make it appropriately tatty.

Her hands are tucked into gaudy lace gloves and she absentmindedly smooths the fabric of her skirt. She carries no purse, nor bag of any kind and though she's made up as a 'lady of the night' she's taken pains with her hair and makeup to appear as one of the less prosperous ones.

The strapping young captain upon who's leg she was currently perched was the handiest accessory, and Valentina makes a mental note to be extra nice to Francis as a thank-you for the loan. Thankfully this pub didn't seem to care if you didn't want a drink and she'd had the captain by a big meal and pretended to pick bits off to feed herself as he ate. His back was against the wall and she scanned the room, watching the heaving crowds for any sign of the young guttersnipe. She was resigned to the fact that this particular task might take a while to accomplish, but, well, it suited her to make herself seem obliging.

[George Williamson]

She could see she wasn't the only one not drinking. Only a few of the tables have drinks on them, more have food, gambling or other wares scattered on the surface.

It was just past midnight he walked in. He scanned the place briefly. The glance found Valentina but he did not stop, instead he went to the bar to talk to Richie. You could see the George in him even though he looked much rougher than when she saw him human at Elysium. A scrappy shirt and long mud stained trousers were enough to cover him in the warm nights.

[Valentina Audley]

Aha. Not that there isn't value in people watching but it's always good to get on with the task in hand. Giggling into her 'young man's' ear she murmurs a quiet instruction to him and then slides off his lap and saunters over to the bar, hips swaying, apparently co-incidentally ending up next to George, though not touching.

She lounges casually, waiting for a gap in his conversation and smiling coquettishly if vacantly at the room. Left to his own devices the man she was with is leaning back, seemingly relaxed but it's noticeable that his glance frequently strays to Valentina.

[George Williamson]

No it deffinitely wasn't her. To start with she'd never step two feet south of the river without a bodyguard. Yes he was quite the big guy but that doesn't... he was her bodyguard. Still, the dress. Wow the dress. No, it deffinitely couldn't be her. A Toreador would never put themselves in such a situation. Deffinitely wasn't her. Maybe her superiors had a wicked sense of humour.

It was her.

Richy had looked o the new person next to George before going back to the conversation. "Yea that's fine," George said to the barkeep, finishing the conversation, "Now go run ya' fine place." So he went on his way. George strumed the bar before turning his head to Valentina.

More likely to be someone else. But why Valentina?

"Evenin' lass. Ain't seen ya here before, got a name?"

[Valentina Audley]

She gives him a slow, considering looking eyeing him up and down before breaking into a wide smile.

"Well hello yourself. Maybe you just weren't looking before now?" She flutters her eyelashes and giggles.

When dressed for a part it doesn't work if you don't act the part. Clothes, no matter how well made are nothing on their own and the last thing she wants is to be noticed as out of the ordinary. Still, assuming this is George he's handed her a nice easy opening for finding out.

She glances down, then back at him, coquettishly mimicking shyness, though the smile she lets slip through hints of anything but shy.

"Round these parts I'm known as Val" she confides in him, leaning a little closer, eyeing him up as though trying to assess him as a new 'client'

"And who might you be?"

[George Williamson]

Valentina doesn't giggle. Well George had never seen her giggle. Viktor deffinitely couldn't giggle if his unlife depended on it so at least he's out, Dorian too. Bored Malkavian possibly? Wasn't it an offense to impersonate a Kindred? Or maybe it was only if they care and you get caught? He'd have to check with Viktor.

George was leaning heavily on the bar, being passively unmoving while she talked. He could see the behavior of a good whore. It was the eyes that did it.

Well at least it was someone intentionally being Valentina.

"Mr. Williamson. But you can call me George. Who's the catch?" His head gesture's towards the large man.

[Valentina Audley]

'You can call me George' indeed. Arrogant little snit. Who did he think he was? The flare of irritation is ruthlessly suppressed without it being allowed to show on her face. The time to be offended is later. For now, the quicker she can get this over with the quicker she can leave.

She checks carefully, no, there doesn't appear to be anyone in earshot. Still, this is not the cosy confines of her little shop and there's no point taking needless chances.

"Him? Oh he's a friend of a friend." She smiles carelessly for the benefit of the room in general. Keeping her tone low she continues

"I have some errands to complete later, and neither he nor my good friend Mr Dubois would hear of me going alone, just fancy that!" She flutters her eye lashes again. "Mr Dubois has other plans this early in the night, and so he bade Mr Smith over there to accompany me. We're to meet him later though, which is nice, don't you think?"

Another smile, toss of the head and giggle. Let's see if he can work out the implications of that little confidence. Valentina watches him with a lively interest that isn't feigned, to see if the conversational hook is accepted.

[George Williamson]

Well they are good at being friendly, that was a few names off the list. Then sliding in the Keeper's name, interesting. Could check later with the Keeper to see if he is on the same side as the 'Val' in front of him. Mr Smith, noted.

George nods, she was right, "It is very good of 'im to make sure you're back alright after a nights work." He turned more towards Val, stoped leaning on the table, and smiled. "So Mr Dubois looks after ya now?" A change of pimps.

[Valentina Audley]

Idiot. Insolent guttersnipe wretch. How dare he?! After a moment of simmering rage Valentina realises something and smiles a slow, lazy, catlike grin.

Let the neonate assume all her actions were dictated by others. It could be interesting to see if his elders are also inclined to believe that, it could make for a useful measure of plausible deniability later. And it's not like Francis isn't lending her a measure of protection after all.

That said, pride demanded some kind of a response.

"let us say that it's beneficial on both sides darling." The words are murmured low, only just reaching George's ears. The tone is Valentina's more usual cadence, as opposed to her giggling alias.

Still murmuring she continues "which brings me to my little errand in fact. A certain 'new found father' of our mutual acquaintance did request me to locate you in fact. He wishes a letter delivered to the adoptive father also of our mutual acquaintance."

Smiling gaily at the room at large she turns her attention back to George.

"Letters can be so useful can't they? I am..." A slight pause as Valentina considers her wording. "I should consider myself to be trivially indebted to you if you could take the baton from me and play postman, such as it is." To any but the most observant of watchers, this should look like a negotiation for services about to be rendered. So Valentina fervently hopes.

Once again she casually looks around the room, keeping her eyes peeled for anything that seems out of place or even just too close to them.

[George Williamson]

Maybe it really was her, reacting like...

Then the thought of Miroslav cut through his mind. It had a habit of doing that. A letter from him? He no longer cared who was in front of him, probably was Valentina, somehow. George didn't even care for who could be listening. It was loud enough to block out anyone accidently hearing, and anyone trying to hear knew what was going on and was probably good enough to hear not matter the whisper.

To pass on a letter. He felt sick, like eating bread. Whatever smile disappeared as he tapped on the bar. This was business. "Business will need a contract. Got one to 'and or will we need t' wright it out?"

That gave him time to think.