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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 8:10:43 GMT -4
Pietro strode into the small, exclusive French resteraunt, fixing the cuffs of his silk shirt with what to him was agonizing slowness. However, to the onlooker not permenantly fixed to the hyperspeed that composed Pietro's reality, it was merely a quick movement over and done with in the blink of an eye. He appeared elegantly dressed, in a loosely fitting blue shirt and black dress slacks. His hair was swept back, except for two stubborn pieces of wispy fringe that overhung his aristocratic face, framing grey eyes perfectly.
"Table for two, in the name of Jones," he said to the maitre'd in a bored tone of voice.
"If sir will come this way...your dinner partner has not arrived yet," the faintly condescending imported French head waiter said, drawing back to escort Quicksilver to the table.
If nothing else, he would have a good meal, the mutant noted coolly.
"Would monsieur like to look at the wine list?"
"Just a glass of water, thank you," Pietro answered coolly as he sat down at the table.
He steepled his fingers together as he leant back in his chair slightly, waiting for his prospective client to arrive. He hoped it wouldn't take too long.
((TAGS: Jake))
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Post by jacob on Oct 25, 2004 8:28:27 GMT -4
Woman or no woman, this was Jacob Gavin Jr., the Courier, currently employed by the New Son. And he was on a job, just like he was all the time. Nothing odd, nothing unusual. Unless of course, one should count the fact that he wasn’t in his own reality. No.
It so happens, that the New Son thought it would be a good idea to send Jacob to whatever reality he was currently in, in order to get some data from Cerebro that he couldn’t find in his own reality.
Jake didn’t mind, a job’s a job and he had been through odder things. And so he got send over to this world.
All he needed was a thief to get him what he needed. Of course he knew a thief, or rather a Thief, who could pull the job easily, but since he was currently a member of the X-men, Jacob doubted he would steal from them. Besides, he wouldn’t ask anything of that bastard. Ever.
He stepped up to the restaurant, dressed in a black dress, with matching heels that he had so far managed to walk in without stumbling.
“Name of Jones, please.” He checked his watch. He was fashionably late. “He should be here already.”<br> “Certainly Madam.” The maitre said as he guided Jake to the table where his business associate was already sitting.
He sat down. “Good evening.”<br> ((Tag: Eh...Quicky?))
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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 8:32:11 GMT -4
Quicksilver looked her over dispassionately as she sat down across the table from him. Attractive. Very attractive. Then he dismissed the thought. He was here for business, nothing more. As she was.
"You're late," the thief observed, faint trace of an East European accent colouring his words.
"I don't like to be kept waiting. So. Shall we order, or get straight down to business?"
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Post by jacob on Oct 25, 2004 8:37:19 GMT -4
"And miss out on a great quality meal?'' Jake had been here in this reality for a few days now and up untill today he had not been able to eat anything without throwing it up after a while. Space-continuum travel did not agree with his stomach.
He smiled to a waiter and hated himself for doing so. However, it did work. The waiter came to their table.
''You are ready to order?''
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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 8:40:45 GMT -4
Pietro nodded slightly, then rattled off an order in flawless French to the waiter as he arrived, already knowing what he would need to feed his insatiable metabolism. He inclined his head slightly to the beautiful woman across the table from him.
"And yourself, madam? What will you have?" he asked her, before glancing at the waiter.
"We will also have a bottle of wine. Choose whatever will fit our meals best."
His tone suggested that it would be a very bad idea to choose a wine that would not complement the meal.
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Post by jacob on Oct 25, 2004 8:47:52 GMT -4
Assuming that the waiter did know English, since he worked and probably lived here, he ordered his meal in English.
The waiter left. He glanced over to the man in front of him. An arrogant idiot, no doubt, as were all thieves. ''So, what should I call you?''
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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 8:52:03 GMT -4
"To you, it will be Quicksilver," Pietro said emotionlessly.
"And yourself, madam? What name should I address you by?"
Everything took so long...everything.
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Post by jacob on Oct 25, 2004 8:57:17 GMT -4
"Courier. And stop calling me 'madam'." It was almost as infuriating as 'chere'. Almost.
But back to business. "You say you're a thief. A good one. But how do I know you will be able to pull this job?'' He wasn't about to give the job to just anyone. And just because he said he was a thief, didn't mean anything. He needed proof, precedents, something that would stop him from looking at him.
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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 9:01:35 GMT -4
"Courier," Pietro repeated calmly.
He shrugged elegantly as she asked him if he could complete the job.
"I am one of the best. Possibly the only one better is Gambit. Possibly."
He smiled briefly.
"What would you like as a demonstration?"
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Post by jacob on Oct 25, 2004 9:04:35 GMT -4
Jake tried remaining calm. "Gambit. You know him?'' he asked in a very casual 'oh, that fellow' way.
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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 9:08:19 GMT -4
"One always makes a point of knowing one's rivals," Pietro said, then looked up as their meals arrived.
At least service was reasonably prompt. He sipped from the glass of wine that was poured out, and nodded briefly in approval.
"He used to be based in New Orleans, with the Guild there...but more recently, he's moved to New York. I find myself quite...miffed."
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Post by jacob on Oct 25, 2004 9:16:44 GMT -4
Miffed, he said. But it sounded more like 'highly pissed off'. Jake would have to remember this, it might come in handy.
"Really?'' He said absentmindedly as he nodded to the waiter for delivering him his plate.
He took the fork and knife and cut a piece of meat. ''I don't need proof." He didn't have time for that. ''I just need an example. A credible example.''
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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 9:21:35 GMT -4
"I was once hired to steal an Sumerian artefact from a national musuem for a private collector, and to replace the actual artefact with a very credible fake. So far, no one has noticed the subsitution," Pietro said, before eating some of his meal.
He reminded himself to move slowly. To keep up the charade he had to play each and everyday... He promised himself he would go running afterwards.
"Would you like more details?"
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Post by jacob on Oct 25, 2004 9:29:03 GMT -4
''Yes.'' Was the only thing he said, unimpressed by the white haired man in front of him.
He sipped the wine. It did indeed fit the meal. But his stomach was still debating the issue. He looked over to a waiter, who swiflty appeared in front of him.
''A glass of water, please.''
The waiter nodded and moved quickly.
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Post by quicksilver on Oct 25, 2004 9:38:02 GMT -4
"To be brief, the artefact in question was protected by an array of video cameras, infrared beams and guards patrolled regularily every half hour, passing through the room to check on all the items there. I retreived the object and replaced it without appearing on the cameras, disturbing the beams or calling the attention of the guards."
Pietro paused and sipped from his wine.
"I was done and outside the museum in under ten minutes. I was back in my hotel room in fifteen, without anyone knowing I had left it at all."
He raised an eyebrow at her patent disbelief.
"To be blunt, Courier, I am one of what is so commonly called the mutant menace. If this is a problem for you, I can most assuredly leave. Rest assured, my abilities make every place in the world open to me. There is no security system yet devised that can keep me from where I desire to be, nor any person who can protect themselves if I decide that they need to be removed from this plane of existance."
He sipped from his wine glass again, appreciating the fine bouquet of the wine.
"Or if my employers decide that such a need must be addressed."
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