Room Service (Private)
Claire stepped out of the car and headed towards the Manor. They should behave as though everything was normal. That involved looking less suspicious by being nonchalant, not in a hurry, talking like friends with all the time in the world...
" It was a lovely dinner, wasn't it?"Â?
She smiled back at Palmer once she reached the door.
"You seemed to have made quite a few friends. Have a good time?"Â?
Heading inside, Claire grabbed a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses from the kitchen. There was a vague sadly not well thought out plan in her head. She hoped Palmer would go along with it and perhaps help fill in any gaps she might inadvertently make.
"I will get my flute from my room. If you care to come along."Â?
That did not change the fact that Miss Tremaine looked very nice from the back.
“A –splendid- dinner. It has been ages since I had food that fine.”
Shrugging at her assessment of his friend making skills, he smiled and looked around as they passed through the hallway into the kitchen.
“Oh, a few. So many charming people there, and all so different! I think the only thing that gathering had in common was a liking for the hosts.”
Flute, eh? Had he missed part of the plan while he was checking out her ass…ets….oh there was no recovering from that self admission. Snapping out of it surprisingly quickly, he gave a warm smile and gestured in a grand sort of way.
“I would be –honored- to escort you safely to your room.”
He had a feeling they were both flying a little loose here but that was actually how he was more comfortable. Offering Claire his arm, he stood a little straighter, hoping he looked the part of a handsome gentleman escort.
“Lead the way! We cannot keep the music waiting!”
Smiling at Palmer, She took his arm and led the way to her room; which was close to her Sire's. It had been convenient for Sorin in the past and now, for once, it was convenient for her.
"Thank you, Sir, you are a true gentleman. I shall defend that belief no matter the rumor."Â?
Looking over at her companion, she gave him a smirk. They entered the correct wing of suites and she moved in front in order to lead the way to her door.
Ah, well, he figured she pretty much had him pegged.
“Oh, and my honor is very much in need of defending! You know I’ve been banned from returning to certain clubs in Charleston? Vicious, terrible rumors that I am a rabble rouser! At least one person in this unfriendly world believes me virtuous!”
This speech was accompanied by wild hand gestures with his free arm, though he was perhaps overly conscientious about keeping the other arm still in spite of its desire to join in the fray.
“One can never put too much stock in rumors – especially ones Grey tells you, you must not listen to a word he says about me.”
Claire took the lead again and after all this talk of him being a gentleman he really probably shouldn’t be checking her out. That was very wrong of him. Bad Palmer.
He had no way of knowing how far this show was meant to go – were they actually going to her quarters? There didn’t appear to be anyone following them but one never knew who was going to come around the corner, he supposed.
"It is such a shame what just one terrible untruth can do to a person's honor. It is so much harder to repair the damage than it was to cause it that is for certain...but I have faith in your ability to prove it unfounded."Â?
Removing the cord on which her key hung, Claire slipped it into the lock and turned. Once it was unlocked, she pushed the door open and turned to Palmer.
"And just what is Thaddeus likely to tell me?"Â?
She smiled at the mention of Thaddeus and wondered how they had met. They seemed to be that odd pairing of different personalities that somehow worked together nicely much to everyone's surprise.
"It will take me just a moment."Â?
Moving inside, Claire went through to her room and quickly scooped up her flute case and some sheet music without bothering to turn on the lights. She returned to Palmer in short order.
"Here we are.... but I don't think I have the piece to which I had been referring. My Creator must have it. He's quite the collector of music. I'll just take a look if you'd like to wait another moment."Â?
Claire smiled hopefully at Palmer. It wasn't the best laid plan but she had been in and out of Sorin's quarters before, normally fixing things, bringing his robe, leaving him reports. For those that knew them she hoped that it seemed normal enough. Ironically, Claire was one of the few people her Creator trusted. There was a pang of guilt to be had at the realization that she was betraying someone's trust in her; it did not matter that the person did not deserve her loyalty. This deed no matter how badly it set with her was for the good of the clan and in her mind Sorin had betrayed the clan's trust long ago.
“Let me just put it this way. Any story involving speakeasies is greatly exaggerated, the jazz singer was all his fault, and the motorcar was like that when we borrowed it.” Nodding firmly now that he had set the record straight, he nodded and stepped back to stand sentry while Claire went inside what he was guessing were her quarters rather than Sorin’s. He took a look up and down the hall and tried to focus on the sounds he was hearing…which was admittedly not much. Claire returned quickly and the rest of her plan became clear.
“By all means! If it is certain music you want, well, it is certain music you must have! I shall await your return, whiling away the long lonely minutes in silent anticipation of your song.”
Alright, perhaps that was laying it on a bit thick, but anyone could say that Palmer Calhoun was a ham and no one (save, perhaps, Claire) would rush to his defense..
Now though she was in her Creator's quarters and she hoped beyond hope to find something useful in the short time they had for her to be looking around. She placed the flute and the sheet music down on a table near the entrance and then thought about where to start.
The bedroom seemed like the best bet. Anywhere else could be public at any given time but her creator was not likely to leave anyone alone for very long in his private domain. He kept more than one residence for that very reason. This though was the dragon's inner lair and like stories of old it did seem the most likely place to find treasure. If only the treasure was something more light hearted than finding evidence to a crime.
No help for it, Claire started at the chest of drawers, gently moving things aside and knocking on the bottom and back of each drawer for signs of a false bottom or hidden compartment.
And look good doing it.
In this case he was standing guard without looking like he was standing guard, though, so a certain amount of wandering, looking aimless, was expected. He drifted over to a half pillar with a vase on it, wondering what the point of putting a pillar in the hallway just to put a vase on it was, anyway. Peering more closely while keeping his ears open for footsteps, he took a step forward and accidentally tapped the pillar, which wobbled slightly. Reaching out to keep the vase from tipping over, he winced a little, thinking that could have been bad.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled back over to stand near the door.
With such thoughts in mind, he rounded the corner only to see someone who most certainly was -not- Mr. Lazarovici. Perhaps Mr. Calhoun...Palmer...was waiting for the Elder of the Night? If so he would be in for a wait – Mr. L was out this evening.
In any case, this made for an awkward moment. He needed to get by Palmer to get inside the quarters but did not wish to appear to be cutting in line to seek an audience with the Elder. He decided on the polite but direct approach.
“Good evening, Palmer. Mr. Lazarovici is out at the moment- if you will excuse me, I need to leave a package in his rooms.”
Yet there seemed to be nothing here of note. She had found other things that she wished she never knew the man possessed but none that would help them with -this- case. If she did find something how would they prove that it had been in his possession if they take it out of the room? Claire decided to cross that particular bridge when she came to it.
Closing the last drawer, she stood and went to search the closet.
Even so, Rupert was human and would be easy enough to frighten off...but that seemed harsh for a guy who was just trying to do his job and Palmer thought those tactics should only be a last resort. So instead, he smiled pleasantly and tried to get Rupert to go away nicely.
“Rupert! Good evening! What a –delight- to see you! Oh, you have something for Sorin? Why don’t I just take that? Claire is just inside retrieving something of hers – I’m sure she can be trusted to set it inside when she comes out.”
Grateful they had a cover story, he hoped it wouldn’t be tested any further than this. Ideally they wouldn’t have had to use it at all but it had been good planning on Claire’s part to have something ready.
While Palmer seemed guileless enough he knew it wouldn’t be seemly to let him take the package. He hated having to insist but reasoned that was Palmer’s doing.
“I have no doubt both you and Claire can be trusted, but this package has been entrusted to me and I must see to it personally. I’m sure you understand.” Even with that assertive statement made, he did not move toward the door, instead waiting to give Palmer the opportunity to graciously give way.
There must be a better way to do this. Would Sorin have such incriminating nick knacks just lying around? She didn't think so. In fact, She had heard that Sorin's place was searched for evidence like most others. That would mean that if it were something that had been here all along then it had to be well hidden.
Claire gently pushed clothes aside on the closet rack and knelt on the floor near the back closet. She pushed and slid on each board to see if any came loose. A panel moved upwards off to one side. Looking around she could see nothing of note but felt that the panel had to be concealing something. Pushing at the wall's insulation, she found a small white bag gone dingy grey with age.
She pulled it out and set it aside for a moment; something else had caught her attention. This closet connected to her own. Sliding the panel back down in place, Claire dematerialized and moved through the closet and to the other side. It was quite possible that they had used those with ethereal to search the walls and possibly even the floors of the manor but the bag had been wrapped in insulation and nestled in the corner on the floor. It would have been easily over looked as an ordinary piece of insulation by those walking through the walls. If she had not been using more mundane means, which most would have considered more time consuming (since they had a whole Manor to search) and less thorough, then she might never have found it herself.
Kneeling in her own closet, Claire found the corresponding board and pushed and slid. Sure enough it moved in her hands. She stared at it numbly for a moment, disbelieving what she saw. Her own Sire had used her as a possible scape goat. The items could have been found in either room and she had no doubt that he felt he had enough influence and possibly other methods to pin the items and blame upon her! Feeling somewhat shaky, She released the board and came back through to the other side. Carefully replacing the insulation and sliding the board back into place, Claire laid out the items from the bag on the floor.
“Ah, I see, of course, completely understandable.” He peered closely at the bundle in Rupert’s arms before straightening himself once more. “Must be important then! A shame Sorin isn’t here to pick it up. He’s at a party, you know, lovely affair. Quite a crowd, too, and all dressed up with the flowers and the coconuts and parrots…well I think I might have been the only one with parrots. I represented the parrot faction of the party. We’re not mad, though, it was a themed party. The tropics, you know. Wonderful food, I must say I enjoyed every last bit of it. Probably ate more than my share but there was plenty to go around. Some of us are fairly indifferent to food but I find I still quite like a good meal. Of the cooked variety I mean…”
“Quite, Mr. Calhoun. If you will excuse me?”
He was hoping the use of his surname might add a more assertive undertone to the request without seeming aggressive. There was no reason to be rude or pushy and he wouldn’t mind giving Palmer the ear he apparently needed so badly once he his task was complete.
“Oh, am I in your way? I’m –sorry-, I certainly didn’t mean to be rude, oh I hope you don’t think me rude, I so wanted to make a good impression here in Nachton and I’ve gone and offended Rupert the Head Butler! You won’t tell on me, will you? Oh surely not, you seem so nice. Everyone around here is so –nice-, it’s quite pleasant up here, really, aside from the dreadful weather. Do you think it will snow this year? Not much snow in Charleston but we do get some. City entirely falls apart of course but even so, it’s lovely, I’ve always thought if it’s going to be cold we ought to at the very least get to see something pretty!”
Rupert was beginning to suspect that he was the butt of some joke or other, or at the very least subject to the psychotic whims of a mentally unbalanced vampire. That was, however, his job – he lived and worked with vampires and he wasn’t about to back down just because some of them were a little mad. Of course if violence were threatened it was his duty to extract himself from the situation but he didn’t truly believe Palmer meant any harm.
On the floor in front of her were seemingly ordinary objects but they were very far from that. There was a amall gold earring,a large amber broach, an ornate sapphire and pearl hair comb, a delicate blown glass quill of dark green swirled with peridot coloured accents.
Once the pictures were taken, Claire put everything back into the bag. She then took the small memory card out of the camera before replacing it on the shelf. They would have to find another camera to retrieve the pictures but that should not be difficult.
“You caught me –again-, Rupert, but –do- call me Palmer, it really would bring me such joy. Calling me Palmer, and snow, and also one of those coffees that are mostly foam and come in teeny tiny little cups would just make my evening. Can we get those here? The coffees, I mean, obviously I can hardly expect you to magically produce snow.”
He might have had more sympathy for this obviously troubled man had he not been interfering with his duties, but even if he had felt more charitable, he would have remained as professional as ever.
“I would be glad to get you a cappuccino in a demitasse cup, just as soon as you move out of the way so I can set down this delivery, Palmer.”
“Demitasse! That’s what it was called, I couldn’t remember. And there you go, calling me Palmer again, you don’t know how that lightens my heart! Now are the little spoons that go with the little cups called demitasse spoons, or do they have a different name? I always liked the little spoons, made me feel like a giant!” He raised his hands in a mock threatening gesture, though he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he should put a little real threat behind his actions. In the end, though, he reasoned that he had gotten this far and surely Claire should be out any moment. “Haha, I didn’t scare you, did I? I do hope not, I don’t think of myself as a scary person but some people seem to get a little –nervous- around me for some odd reason…”