A Hunt (Attn. Alex)

Sandra

Sandra fixed this newcomer... Townsend with a glare. She didn't give a flying fig if he was Perry 'fucking' Mason; she wasn't going anywhere until she knew Jessica was going to be alright.

What the hell was this anyway? Some sort of shake down? Had they done a catering job for the mob or something? Sandra had the brief urge to laugh hysterically, 'Yes, yes, everyone knows that Canapé was a secret code word for guns. It gave a whole new meaning to Canapé Surprise. The business was a front for weapon smuggling which was obviously put into the very elaborate four tiered cakes that they were famous for.

Getting close enough to make her meaning clear, Sandra was about to give the guy what for in no uncertain terms but.... Well, she looked at Jessica who was wandering off with the well dressed very handsome man and wondered just exactly what she was worried about. Obviously neither of these two men had trouble getting a date to the point that they needed to kidnap someone and even if one of the clients had been on the wrong side of the law, Sandra doubted people would be asking the caterer what they knew about it.

“Yeah okay, well if you say she's fine with you then that's good enough for me but if she's not. I'm coming to look for you. Hear me? And I'm not be trifled with!”


She was a former Hell's Angel and had dealt with tougher men than these two that was for sure. A baseball was a great equalizer to any fight where you want the guy to actually remain breathing afterwards. Giving Townsend one last hard stare, Sandra turned to leave.

“Goodnight Jessica! Have fun!”

Waving to Mr Townsend, Sandra quickly hurried to her car, throwing a goodbye to man over her shoulder.

“Gotta go!”

She just remembered the season finale of Project Runway was on and she didn't want to miss it!


((OOC: Scared yet, Ambrose? Sandra out ))

Alexander ran his hands down his trousers and watched as Ambrose continued his discussion with the Sous Chef.

At least Miss Patterson had been reassured of their 'good' intentions.

Alexander entered the cab, and sat next to Jessica. Giving her a brief smile as he shut the cab door.

"Mr. Townsend should be along shortly, Miss Patterson. In the meantime let's get to know each other a little better. Why don't you tell me about yourself."

Alexander laid a reassuring hand on Jessica's left leg.

What the hell? Had she just threatened him? Yes, she had. Ambrose wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, not at all, but he did respect the sentiment. On the other hand, it wasn’t going as well as he had hoped.

All things considered, though he’d just as soon return the caterer as soon as possible, he wasn’t afraid of the sous chief, he just didn’t want to give her an excuse to come looking for them and start making a fuss.

Shaking his head at the encounter, which he considered odd, he walked back around the truck and silently climbed in. However, he didn’t start it, he’d wait to see what Alex was up to with Jessica before he made any decisions there.

Jessica waited primly in the middle seat knowing that there was not going to be much space for the three of them. She was taken completely by surprise by Mr West's line of questioning and the touch on her knee. He liked her? Was this a subtle way of hitting on her? Jessica blushed and tried to cover it by focusing on the floorboard and fussing with the hem of the light sweater she had worn for the autumn's slight chill.


"Uhm well there's not a lot to tell really..."Â?


Despite that ,and with no notion of why she was doing it, Jessica continued.


"I was born in Savannah but my family moved around a lot. My father was in the Marines; he could tell some stories, let me tell you... All the different places I lived was great but it really was tough going from school to school. Hard to make friends, ya know?"Â?


'You can shut up at any time!' Jessica screamed in her head as she listened to her endless rambling with the sick fascination of a person witnessing a car crash. There was the certain knowledge that it was going to happen and that it could not be stopped and yet one found one's self unable to look away either.


"Anyway from there I really learned that you have to be outgoing and confident to get anywhere. I came into cooking totally by accident actually. See I was supposed to be placed in this journalism class.. I love writing... but there was a mix up in my schedule and they put me in a home education class instead. Can you believe that? I was livid!"Â?


By this point she had gone back to a very old nervous habit of chewing on her nails, nice fresh French manicure and all, but nothing seemed to stop this compulsive out pouring of senseless back story drivel into the life of one increasingly mortified Jessica Patterson.


"So they tell me that it was just a mistake but now there was nothing they could do about it because the Journalism class was completely full and wouldn't I like to take Home Ec because it would be really useful to me someday? Yeah, as if, but lo' and behold it turned out that I had a knack for cooking. I really enjoyed it. I was like a mad scientist with all these wonderful ingredients and I had willing participants ready to eat my food at home because my mother, bless her heart, was enthusiastic about cooking but never got it."Â?


Leaning closer, Jessica whispered in a confidential aside.


"My dad always said it was the Irish in her. Blandest food in the world and really how many ways can you serve a potato?"Â?


Straighting up and looking proud, She beamed at Mr West who was probably on the verge of yawning by this point.


"I eventually proved to him that there were very many good ways to serve a potato. But you were asking me to tell you something about me and I'd guess that meant how I got into the business. After high school I thought I might try journalism again and I did enjoy the writing but I had this really horrible lecherous old man of a teacher. He was greasy and I swear to God that he didn't bath except on Mondays or perhaps it was some time on the weekend because he always smelled tolerable on the first day of the week but the odor went rapidly down hill after that. It got to the point where I couldn't stand his class any more and I couldn't just back out of the college because I had a full scholarship. I decided I would take a different major and apply for another scholarship that would allow me to take journalism elsewhere. Only it turns out that I really liked the cooking courses."Â?


Mr Townsend had joined them and she hoped that he would say something, ANYTHING, to interupt her...but no, he just got into the truck and paused, didn't even start the engine. It was like he knew that she was making a complete ass out of herself and he was interested in watching. Jessica realized with a small portion of her thought processes that such a theory was unfair to the man; he had no idea that she was committing suicide by a fatal overdose of her foot in her mouth when he got into the Ranger.


"Yeah, so I transferred to a culinary arts school and uh, worked for a few top end restaurants before deciding to start up my own business on the side. When I had enough regular clients to support me I began to work for myself full time. The rest is, as they say, history."Â?


Thank God! Jessica sighed a bit in relief and quelled the temptation to cover her mouth...just in case the next breath brought on another outpouring.


"So uhm, what about you?"Â?


Death by slow roasting would be preferable to sitting there right about now. She bit her lip and glanced at Mr Townsend, hoping he was save her by starting a different conversation and wondering how much of her biography he had heard.


((OOC: LOL... you asked for it.))

Amusing, Alexander thought privately to himself. Human emotions can be so fragile, like the summer moths circling blissfully unaware around a naked candle flame at night.

The flushing of her cheeks, the quick pace of her breathing, the nervous chewing of her nails and the quick averting of her eyes was all real.

As was Jessica Patterson’s devotion to her culinary craft, something she obviously took pride in, despite the accidental calling that she answered. And an unfulfilled passion for writing and Journalism. An inquisitive, curious mind then.

And she was Irish. In part.

Alexander vaguely recalled something about a Potatoe famine of some type during the 1840s that had driven the starving Irish off to seek new fortunes in America. It was a tragedy, but nothing that had really concerned Alexander. He had been under the instruction of his creator and mentor at the time, and California was a long way from shores of the Emerald Isles.

Alexander had never thought much about the Irishmen under his command. The other officers considered them to be sullen, stubborn brutes in English uniforms. Too much resentment stewing in Irish hearts over what the English had done in Ireland. Not that Alexander had ever been to Ireland, let alone England. Still the First Sergeant had been a giant of an Irishman from County Kerry and a most agreeable sort of fellow. Alexander had trusted him first for advice, and then later on with his life. He had been a valuable friend. Especially during the Third Mysore War.

Alexander shivered slightly in spite of himself. He blinked for a moment and focused on the present. He smiled at Jessica.

“You give a fascinating account of yourself, Miss Patterson. One passion lost and another accidentally acquired. Not many people have that much fortune. Thank you for sharing that.”

Alexander replied graciously.

Alexander turned to Ambrose. “We’re ready to proceed, Mr. Townsend.”

“Where were we, Miss Patterson. Oh yes, my life story, so to speak. Nothing too much to say really.”

Alexander gently rapped the slender fingers of his right hand on Jessica’s thigh.

“There was a song made famous by an artist called Sting. A catchy little tune. An Englishman in New York. Well this certain Englishman loved the country so much that he married a charming American woman, settled on Long Island and had one son.

"And there was no way my father was going to let his only son be educated in the American Public School System - no offence intended - so I spent the majority of my youth with my family in England and vacationing in Europe. Private tutors.”

“I once fancied myself quite the Polo player, but realistically it wasn’t really a worthy ambition or wise career choice despite the lucrative incentives.”

“Truth be told, I am exceedingly fortunate when it comes to financial affairs. While I lacked my father diplomatic skills, I inherited his shrewd ability to make calculated risks with money - mine and others.”

Alexander looked at Jessica and smiled.

“Like you, I learnt that you have to be outgoing and confident to acquire what you want out of life, and to maintain that composure when you are dealt a bad hand.”

Alexander pretended to stifle a yawn.

“I hope I haven’t bored you Miss Patterson. Our journey will take a short time. You might want to catch a quick nap before we arrive. My shoulder may not be as comfortable as a feather down pillow, but you are welcome to use it. Go to sleep and I’ll wake you up when we arrive at our destination.”

She was rattling on about something, certainly not what they were looking into but boy was she going at it was an apparent passion. As random as it seemed to be Ambrose listened intently as he started the truck and headed out.

As much attention was given to Alex’s account of himself, it never hurt to know who you were working with. Although there was an unintentional derisive sort at his distain for the American school system, what part of it Ambrose had made use of had been just fine even at the edge of civilization.

He let Alex go on with his play-acting and waited to see if Jessica fell asleep. She’d followed all the commands so far, giving him no reason to think she wouldn’t now.

“Maybe a more direct question next time. At least I’m assuming you started her off on that rant.”

It probably was a good thing they both had command or he figured there was no way in hell they’d have been able to talk her out with them or away from Sandra.

“Got a plan now or did you just want to navigate?”

Ambrose wasn’t familiar with this particular part of town and didn’t want to delay things if they didn’t have to.

Jessica listened to Mr West's story, disappointed that he did not go into as much detail...as if that were even possible, but at least he did not seem to be laughing at her story. In fact, it appeared that he had paid attention to at least some of it.


Her eyes widened a touch at the hand closing more deliberately around her thigh and she felt a thrill of excitement go through her at the casual intimacy of the gesture. She gave him a shy smile and listened as he answered her question.


A feeling of wounded American pride warred with the coolness of having private tutors and visiting foreign places. She had been to a few different countries in her short life but they were always busy bustling tours full of fellow foreigners there to see the well known sights. A part of her would love to just live somewhere else, learn their way of doing and cooking things, and see the every day life of a place far from home.


She could perhaps see him playing polo but it somehow seemed very carefree and somehow just not as fitting as a board room. Smiling at the end of the short tale, Jessica was certain that he was selling himself and his abilities short out of modesty. She was dismayed when he yawned and hoped that it wasn't related to her long winded speech. It seemed unconnected and perhaps he had a long day; this was quite late to be doing business normally and if he had already spent a full work shift worth of stress, tasks and decisions then it was no wonder that he was tired.


Jessica shook her head to the negative at the need for a nap; her day had not been so stressful until the evening and she was still wired from its effects. However, Mr West's yawn seemed to do her in; a weariness came upon her almost out of no where. Damn the suggestive quality of a yawn, she had wanted to stay up and talk some more besides sleeping in front of a client was...


Her eyes drifted closed and Jessica leaned comfortably against Mr West's shoulder. It was perhaps good fortune that she did not snore in her sleep. A bump in the road caused her to bounce upright once more but she was too tired to be troubled by it and she tilted over once more without even waking up...this time against Mr Townsend. Feeling quite comfortable and rested she reached her arm around what her subconscious told her was a pillow, sighing happily in a dream filled stupor.


((OOC: Couldn't resist...and we are staff so we can make bumps in the road! Calls out the Nachton Road crew to have that fixed now that it is no longer needed ))

"Sleep well, Miss Patterson." said Alexander quietly as he watched her snuggle into Ambrose's shoulder.

He almost laughed at the sight, but kept his lips firmly straight.

Alexander pulled out his PDA and tapped in a few details. The map to the catering company was soon replaced with a map to the second location from the journal, whatever that red dot indicated on the road.

Alexander gave a brief commentary of street names and what turns to take to Ambrose as the Ford Ranger ploughed through the night.

The sealed scroll felt heavy in his jacket pocket and Alexander wondered what it would mean for him and Ambrose, and for MIss Patterson.

He felt envious for a moment at the tranquil look of peace on Jessica's face. Alexander's own sleep was seldom so relaxed or pleasant.

Letting out a soft sigh, Alexander snapped shut his PDA and stared out into the darkness.

Hrmph, maybe they should have started with sleep and then just carried her off. That would have saved the encounter with the other and that would have been one less person who knew who they were. If something went wrong or if they didn’t return Jessica one of them would have to go back and get any crazy ideas out of Sandra’s head.

This train of thought, however, was cut off completely when Jessica made herself at home. His shoulder was not a pillow, not to the best of his recollection and he looked down at her with an odd expression, confused, bewildered and grouchy all at the same time.

“If she drools you’re in trouble.”

After his terse warning, which he probably wouldn’t back up he continued to drive. It would have been nice to have more information to give other than her resume, but he would worry about that later at least they had her in one piece and as willingly as possibly.

Following directions he kept a look out and finally pulled to a stop and shot off the engine.

“This is the place isn’t it?”

Alexander nodded as he unbuckled his safety belt.

"This shouldn't take long."Â?

Alexander reached inside his trouser pocket, pulled out a plain handkerchief, and dropped it on Jessica's lap. "If she drools."Â?

Alexander got out of the cabin before Ambrose could reply, and shut the passenger door quietly.

The sealed scroll felt even heavier than before and Alexander shivered in spite of himself as he moved in front of the Ford Ranger and waited.

Stewart watched the truck pull up on the security camera. Hmm, so there really was a visitor supposed to be showing up. He was wondering if it was one of those trick inspection type mind tricks to make certain he was alert. It was, he supposed, still possible. The guy was real enough though.


The building the Order of the Hunt guard was in was a small stand alone warehouse in the middle of a scrap yard. There were piles of odds and ends enough to not notice much through fences and out of neighboring windows. The acreage was big enough that what happened in the small building remained unheard to the outside world. Extra sounding proofing aided this goal.


Watching the man get out of the truck, Stewart minimized his solitaire game and went to push back the tiny slide in the door.


"Yes?"Â?

Alexander approached the door and said nothing as a slide was pulled back to reveal a pair of cautious eyes.

"Business."Â?

Alexander slowly unbuttoned his coat, carefully reached inside and pulled out the sealed scroll. The last thing he wanted was a bullet in the head from an unseen gunman.

The scroll unfurled itself easily enough, and Alexander held it outstretched before him so the cautious eyes could not mistake the silver and black symbol upon it.

"Questions?"Â?

He chuffed at the offered handkerchief but accepted it nonetheless, the quip actually made him smile, not an obvious one but one of subtle amusement.

All he could do now was wait. They could either wake her up and brining her in under her own steam or carry her, well Alex could carry her, Ambrose didn’t trust his balance. He’d probably drop her on her head and that would be the end of it.

Maybe they should have tried to get more information from her, maybe they should leave that for their drop off point; far too many maybes for his taste but there wasn’t anything to do now.

He waited, oddly patently, for further instructions.

Stewart looked at the guy for a long moment. Business... Truly? Who else would be coming to a scrap yard at this hour of the night? He refrained from comment though until some form of proper identification was given. There were several ways this could be accomplished but only those high up in the Order of the Hunt knew them all.

The scroll was unfurled; Stewart's eyes widened slightly and he stood a little straighter. This was Mai's personal version of the Hunt Emblem. The differences were subtle but the whole piece appeared to have been painted with a bamboo brush. It was more organic, wider here, thinner there, than the rigidly straight lines of the regular symbol. Unlike most elders, Mai did not use a side emblem or embellishment to distinguish her messengers. She gave them one of these. Her personal symbol differed only slightly; it contained a simple flower design over the center of the crossed blades. It was the job of guards like Stewart to know all the symbols of the Elders of the Hunt, a long and difficult part of the training.


He glanced back to the truck and then at the man with the scroll. They had come in together but why was the driver not getting out? Perhaps this one was being dropped off. Sliding the window shut, Stewart then unlocked the large door. Standing slightly behind it, he opened it enough to allow entrance but positioned himself to be able to shut it quickly should the need arise.

Alexander could read it in the man's eyes the moment he beheld what was on the scroll. The subtle shift in attitude, the straightening of his posture and his immediate compliance. It reminded him of soldiers caught unawares by their commanding officer.

Alexander carefully rolled up the scroll and placed it back inside his jacket pocket.

"Company of three, hold the door."

Alexander didn't wait for any acknowledgement from the man, but strode back towards the parked Ford Ranger and opened the passenger side door.

"Let's go, Ambrose." Alexander said quietly. "I'll take Sleeping Beauty if you bring the gym bag."

What ever had happened they were apparently being admitted as the door opened slightly. Of course, they would be, having been sent by the Elder, but at least they were in the right spot. When Alex returned and confirmed that he nodded but remained in the truck until he was certain Alex could take Jessica comfortably, strength wasn’t the issue, just getting a sleeping body out of the cab of his truck could be a little awkward.

Satisfied he absently shoved the handkerchief he still had in his hands into his pocket and reached for the bag, it was heavier than he had anticipated. Bag in one hand cane in the other hand he followed Alex. He couldn’t help but wonder what the next step here was, or if there was one.

Alexander gently held Jessica as if she were a small child. Her eyelids didn't flicker and no sound passed her trembling lips as she breathed softly against his chest. It was awkward removing a full grown woman from a vehicle unawares, but so far the Command seemed to hold. Sleeping Beauty seemed totally oblivious to what was going on.

What was going on? Alexander pushed that errant thought aside as he pushed the passenger side door shut with his hips. He wasn't adverse to using violence if the situation called for it, but between him and Ambrose there was every possiblitiy that they could get the information from Jessica without so much as raising a hand.

Alexander heard the sound of the driver's side door shut and the shuffle of Ambrose's feet. Alexander began walking towards to partially open doorway and the man who was staring cautiously at the late night visitors.

Stewart watched the stranger indifferently. His words once discerned to have no further import were easy enough to ignore. He wondered if the man were new to the Order to be treating a guardsman of the Hunt like he was the butler. Stewart humphed to himself in a silent chuckle. Yeah, probably new. He wondered if that explained why the other man hadn't got out. Maybe he was there to watch over this each step of the way to make sure he did his missions right. Stewart thought back to his own days like that with nostalgia. It seemed so terribly embarrassing to be running around supervised, despite it never being noticeable to anyone other than the Order, but then those missions always seemed so certain and filled with ease. Missions on his own were always liberating but at the same time filled with job performance stress.


He watched them bring a sleeping woman out of the vehicle with lack of concern. Nothing like bringing the party with you.


((OOC: well since you went ahead of me I suppose this could have waited but I said I would post today so here it is. ))

Alexander made his way to the door with his precious 'cargo.'

He waited until he could hear that Ambrose was beside him.

"If you please?" Alexander asked to the guard at the partially opened door.

((OOC - my bad, I thought I would answer Ambrose first. ))

Ambrose was still very conscious of being ‘the new guy’ he didn’t know protocol in these matters. It seemed to him that the Hunt would have doormen and so he surmised this fella Alex was talking to was probably more than he appeared. That didn’t mean they didn’t need the door opened, but it meant he wasn’t going to dismiss him.

For right now, he contented himself with keeping an eye out for any one else. Something about carrying about a helpless female seemed like it would stand out under any circumstances.

((OOC… sorry… permission to smack me around when I goof.))