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Ravi FitzCoventry last won the day on May 21 2019

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About Ravi FitzCoventry

  • Rank
    Supporting Character

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Location:
    Wherever seems interesting
  • Interests
    Philandering, wenching, womanising, heartbreaking... And he likes girls, too.

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  1. "...so it sounds like progress." Sable nodded slowly as she considered, then threw the handsome man across from her a wry smile. "You were supposed to charm one woman, not two." "I'm an overachiever." Ravi yawned, showing pink tongue and white teeth for a moment before covering his mouth. "'Scuse me." he apologised, reaching for his tea. Dressed in an off-white linen suit and leaf-green shirt, he was a picture of elegant dishevelment as he lounged in the chair comfortably, with the air of one who could sleep anywhere given half a chance. It was the following day, and in response to Sable's call for an update Ravi had once more taken the chauffeured car uptown to the NYX building. "Late night?" Sable's perfect eyebrow raised a little higher. The insouciant Englishman shrugged. It was a measure of his attractiveness that even with a five-o'clock shadow and slightly rumpled clothing he was just as enticing - less polished, but that just meant the raw animal attractiveness was closer to the surface. Or something. "Nine in the morning is no time for honest folk to be awake." he countered, flashing her a devastating smile. "It's a time for staying in bed and listening to the breathing of the person next to you, wouldn't you agree?" "I'm sure." Sable was not going to be drawn out on the matter of her sleeping habits, but couldn't resist a little curiousity. "So you took the friend home?" "Truthfully, I slept alone." Ravi stretched his spine out a little, wiggling to get comfortable in the chair, then resumed his boneless slouch. "Marilyn is lovely, but not the quarry I am pursuing, so I felt it best to save my energies. I text-flirted with her a little is all, and even that was light." "I'm surprised and impressed." The tone was not completely irony-riddled - Sable had been half-expecting that the incorrigible Brit would get distracted chasing an easy conquest. But she couldn't resist the urge to razz Fitzcoventry a little either. "I'm surprising and impressive." Ravi's gold-and-green eyes met hers over the rim of his teacup, flirtatious humor in his gaze. "So what is your next move?" Sable decided to steer the conversation back to business, and safely away from the subject of beds, sleeping with people, and Ravi's proclivities in that arena. He smiled a little wider, then abruptly stood and moved to the pin-board behind him, cup in hand. "A night-time encounter, next." he decided aloud, with a thoughtful tone as he stroked his chin. "Seems our Amelia has a few nightspots she likes to go and let her hair down at. I need one that's not too far from the mainstream that I'd have to be some hipster indie-scene fellow to know about it." He considered the board, then tapped a photograph. "This one. She seems to go there most Friday nights, usually with friends, and I won't need a soul patch and fake spectacles to get in." He came back and slouched into the chair again, saluted Sable with his cup, then took a drink. "Good. I'll write up the report so Miss D'Sombra knows you're making progress." Sable looked up from her laptop when there had been no acknowledgement after a minute, only to realise that Ravi FitzCoventry had closed his eyes, cradling his empty cup on his stomach as he slumped in the chair, and was to all intents and appearances asleep. Shaking her head in amused disbelief, and taking the opportunity for a safe lingering look at his face in repose (the way his long lashes brushed his cheeks was particularly noteworthy), the professional got back to typing up the report.
  2. About a block down the street outside the coffee shop, Sable sat behind the wheel of a sleek black (of course) sedan, her attitude one of calm patience underscored with perhaps a tinge of anxiety - though it was hard to tell as she sipped tea from a thermos and watched the front of Coffee Project. First contact in this sort of affair was touch and go - the wrong word, a random occurrence, and Ravi could come sloping back to the car with his tail between his legs or with only a partial success. She'd be lying if she said some part of her didn't want to see the arrogantly charming Englishman humbled, if only a little. He was entirely too full of himself where his admittedly charming effect on women was concerned. So when the door of the cafe opened and she saw the subject and another woman whom the files had identified as an acquaintance step out, her first thought was that Ravi FtizCoventry had struck out, blocked by the Sisterhood, and would shortly be headed back this... way... No, he'd stepped out after them, smiling and chatting to both young women as they gestured up the street, the friend blushing a pleased pink as she took Ravi's proffered arm, then looping her other hand through Amelia's arm as they headed away. Sable stared. And didn't miss Ravi's casual look back over his shoulder and flash of momentary smile in her direction before his eyes turned to his companions. Son of a bitch. she thought amusedly. Well, she might as well head back to the office. It appeared first contact had been, at least to a degree, a success. That was a relief. While Miss D'Sombra hadn't specified an urgent timescale, setbacks were undesirable... to say the least. = = = = = = "...so then she said 'But I was saving that for the party!'" Ravi finished a family anecdote to the accompaniment of Marilyn's shocked laughter and Amelia's chuckling. "No!" Marilyn gasped, still giggling. "Swear to god." Ravi placed a hand over his heart. "My cousin lives in her own world and only touches down in this one occasionally. You know how most girls go through the princesses and unicorns phase? Well, nobody told her to grow out of it. She's on her fourth husband already and she's only five years older than me." He shook his head ruefully, then grinned at the two girls. "You'd think that the eligible bachelors would swap notes and steer clear." They were drifting through a clothing store, chatting as they browsed, and Ravi had found he was enjoying himself. Marilyn was charming, and Amelia was too, possessed as she was of a dry wit and a willingness to employ it. He'd already picked up a clean shirt and jeans and was wearing them, the old ones tucked away for future cleaning in the store-issued bag, and was now following the two friends as they gossiped and caught up, now and then being drawn into the conversation but generally content to observe and comment.
  3. "That would be my preference." he quipped in an easygoing manner, reaching out and taking Amelia's hand in a gentle, firm and lingering shake, his eyes on hers throughout the exchange. "I do feel terrible, though. You ladies were going to catch up and have a peaceful afternoon and I come galumphing in and ruin it." He looked a little chagrined, the handsome line of his mouth turning down in a slight grimace as he let his fingers slide from Amelia's. "It wasn't your fault." Marilyn's expression was compassion personified as she put a hand on his arm again. "Perhaps." he allowed with a smile at her, then looked back at Amelia earnestly, his expression brightening in a hopeful smile as an idea occurred to him. "Tell you what... Why don't I come around shopping with you both? You can catch up, show me where New Yorkers shop and hang out, there's less of a fifth wheel vibe if we're all doing something... plus I need to pick up a new shirt now in addition to some other things." he added mischievously. "That way, everyone wins. What do you say?"
  4. "Wolston." Ravi smiled back. "At least, that was my family home." At her blank expression he went on. "It's a tiny village just outside the city of Coventry. But I've lived all over England, really. Boarding school in Harrow, summers in Dorset - when I wasn't visiting family in India - and yes, Glastonbury a time or two for festivals." he grinned. "India?" Marilyn's eyes went wider. Ravi chuckled, sipping his tea. "Mmhmm. My maternal grandmother is from Punjab, so I have a bunch of uncles, aunts and cousins. And because they're Sikh and family is very important, I've had to go and stay with all of them at least once." He leaned closer conspiratorially with a playful smile. "And the only Punjabi or Hindu phrases I know are bad words, so please don't ask." It wasn't strictly true: Ravi could get by asking directions or ordering a meal so long as the other party was cooperative... but as lies went it was a humorously little white one. "And what do you do?" Amelia asked, smiling at little at Marilyn's excited laughter. "Currently? I'm a recruitment consultant." Ravi shrugged offhandedly. "Confidential clientele who are looking for special individuals, that sort of thing. Headhunting, I suppose you could say." "Sounds fascinating." Marilyn would likely have answered that if Ravi had said he slung burgers at McDonalds, but at least this job actually did sound somewhat interesting... and mysterious. "What sort of special individuals?" "Well, I can't get into specifics, you understand." Ravi demurred, taking another sip of tea with evident relish as Marilyn and Amelia nodded. "God, they do a nice cuppa here. Anyway, it varies from client to client. I've spent a while building my brand now and I've not really had time to kick back and enjoy New York, so when a colleague recommended this place as a good spot to relax I said 'why not?'" He chuckled, a warm amused sound. "I must say, it's been a memorable first visit, but not one I regret at all."
  5. "Oh, I'm an import." Ravi smiled at the cute girl, angling as he sat so he faced both women. "Been here a little more than a year. Working and networking. You know how it goes." he said, leaning in as if confiding for a moment before stirring his tea a little. "Coming over and taking jobs, that sort of thing." he said with a playful smile as Mari giggled. "And no, I'm not one to lose my, erm, shit over an accident that was my fault, Marilyn." "Mari." Amelia's friend sighed rather than said as she gazed at the light golden eyes of her new crush, fancying there was a hint of green in their depths as well as they caught the daylight from outside. "Many would say it's a little early for that - we just met. But I'm game if you are." The line was smoothly delivered, almost deadpan, as the incorrigible Englishman raised his tea to his lips. Marilyn went deep red, then laughed, a pleasant sound of merriment that caused some nearby patrons to look around. "Noooooo." she protested giggling, lightly pushing at his arm with her hand - and not at all copping a feel of hardened muscle under the jacket. "I meant call me Mari. My friends all do." Her wide eyes were earnest, rapt, and spellbound. Figures. Ravi sighed inwardly. This was not going to be easy - the girl code forbade poaching as much as the bro code did. He could either retreat now and re-plan, or improvise... And retreat was not one of his preferred options. "So what about you both?" he asked, taking another sip of tea as he regarded both Amelia and Marilyn from over the rim of the cup. Lowering it again, he cradled the cup intimately in his hands as he fixed them both with his attention, a teasing smile on his lips. "What do two such charming ladies do in the Big Bad Apple when they're not accosting Englishmen?"
  6. "Nonsense." Ravi took the proffered napkins and, lifting the shirt away from his skin, attempted to blot the worst of the coffee from the formerly pristine white cotton. This, incidentally, afforded Amelia an unparalleled view of a flat stomach with taut ridged abdominal muscles that were adorned with just a little hair, not so much as to be a rug and not so little that it looked as though he waxed, trailing down to the waistband of his jeans...and that was enough staring. Probably. Ravi wiped the damp skin briefly, then used the wadded napkins to similarly blot his jeans as he continued. "I absolutely insist. I was the idiot not looking where he was going." He considered the remnants of the napkins ruefully then tossed them into the bin by the cream and sugar station. "At least I'll smell nice." he smiled, looking her in the eyes for a moment before glancing at the barista behind the counter who was watching the drama avidly - not least because one of the players was Ravi. "Miss? Could you get another one of whatever it was I ruined for..?" he looked at her with a start as though he'd committed another faux pas. "There I go, forgetting my manners." he sighed, shaking his handsome head with a rueful smile as he once more met Amelia's eyes. "I'm Ravi." he said, holding out his hand to the young woman.
  7. Marilyn turned her head back from smiling in return greeting to Amelia and found her eyes tracking the figure that darkened the entrance of the Coffee Project perhaps a couple of moments after her friend. At first, it was simply an instinctual drawing of the eye to movement, and she immediately went back to reading the screen of her phone... and then a little flag popped up in the young woman's mind telling her no, wait a minute, lets not be hasty getting back to the social media digest, and Marilyn's gaze snapped back up for a second look. There were no shortage of aspiring models, actors, dancers and what-have-you in New York. A couple even worked behind the counter at Coffee Project. But elegantly dressed-down in well-fitting blue-grey jeans, a tight white t-shirt and a light brown jacket that complemented the shoulder-length mane of hair and the almost-gold of his eyes, Ravi was well worth a second look as he moved with lazy graceful insouciance, past her table in the cramped coffee shop. 'Beautiful' wasn't a word often used to describe men, but it was the first descriptor she could think of, only realising she was staring at the newcomer when he met her eyes briefly and gave her a polite, charming smile and an incline of the head as if to say 'Yes, I know I am, and how are you today?' before moving past her, heading to the counter. Ravi stood back from the counter, eyes ostensibly scanning the list of caffeinated goodness on offer, smiling as he gestured for a lady behind him in the queue to go ahead while he 'made up his mind' with the air of someone unfamiliar with the whole business. He waited as Amelia did, drifting along like an indecisive shadow with his eyes on the signs behind the counter, then as she grabbed her coffee he immediately moved a little further along as if his distracted indecision was forcing him to walk the whole length of the counter before being able to make up his mind. The 'bump-meet' was what he called it. Perhaps pickup artists and dating gurus called it something else, but Ravi had never had much use for them and so bump-meet was the name. As ploys went it was a moderate ice-breaker, depending on the subject. Used by women on men and men on women (and probably women on women and men on men - this was the Current Year and Ravi didn't judge), the trick was simple and direct - and hard on the wardrobe and one's dignity. That, of course, was part of it's effectiveness. As Amelia turned she collided with the tall, beautiful man who was between her and the condiment station, and the artfully styled and delicious beverage in her hand ended up partly on the floor, but mostly on Ravi's shirt and jeans. "Christ!" The exclamation of dismay and shock was not altogether feigned. The coffee was hot, after all, and even if it hadn't been there were far more pleasant experiences than being doused in caffeinated syrupy beverages. Rather than the typical New Yorker response of 'watch what you're doing, ya damn idiot!', however, the reaction after the initial shock was surprising. "I am so bloody sorry, miss." The stranger said in a rich British accent, his voice even in the wake of surprise coffee-bathing the sort of mellifluous purr that people would likely pay money to listen to on the radio - or perhaps to read romance audiobooks. He reached out and steadied her with a hand on her elbow, his light-golden eyes warm with concern, his manner almost a babble of apology. "Stupid of me. It's about par for my day so far." He glanced down at the mess on his clothes and sighed, a rueful smile on his lips as he looked back at Amelia. "Serves me damned right. But not your poor coffee: it was innocent. Are you alright, though? Can I get you another? Please - it would be the least I could do."
  8. "I think that's all I need to know." Ravi inclined his head to the woman he just might have sold his soul to... If he believed a soul was something that could be sold, or even that he had a soul to sell. A lot of things needed rethinking, especially if everything D'Sombra had intimated was true. "Hopefully kidnapping won't be necessary, and I draw the line at marriage. A man must have some standards, after all." he added, flashing a devilish smile at the two women. It was good for a slight smirk from Ravenna, but the charm bounced off Sable like a BB pellet from a tank. Professional. Dedicated. Uptight - likely afraid of fouling up and meeting her mistress's displeasure. Ravi assessed with a practiced glance. Won't this be fun? "Then farewell for now, Ravi FitzCoventry." D'Sombra said with curious formality as she extended a hand. Ravi shook it in parting, then left the room with the starkly-dressed Sable's heels clicking as she followed him... and a prickling on the back of his neck where he fancied he felt Ravenna's eyes. = = = = = = It wasn't quite as bad a working arrangement as Ravi had feared. Sable - which was likely not her real name - operated out of an office lower down in the NYX building. It was this office that was the nerve center for the hunting of Amelia Parsons, and so it was to this office that Ravi had been coming for the last few days, reading what Sable had on the woman, studying known associations and sightings, and discussing with Ravenna's underling the most likely spots to make contact. Sable sent a car for him every day, and ensured he was dropped off at home afterwards. His expenses were being covered so he didn't need to work to pay the bills, thus detracting from the task at hand. It was all very efficient. This manner of covert work was entirely new to the young man - but he found himself enjoying it immensely, tracking the girl through the urban jungle. "The home is a no-go." he said, pacing before the cork-board on the wall of Sable's office, an apple in hand as he peered at the photographs of the girl entering or leaving a variety of places, as well as sitting at a bar, relaxing over a coffee, and talking animatedly in a park with some people. He found himself liking Amelia - she wasn't the glamorous divorcee or rich young debutantes who were his regular 'prey', but there was a spark to her which was engaging. Vivacity, that was it. The air of a girl who knew what she wanted in bed and probably went at it with enough gusto to wreck the box-spring. "Can't just turn up a person's home - it's an invasion of privacy. Seduction is all about letting them come to you." "I bow to your knowledge." Sable said dryly, tapping at her laptop. Ravi half-turned, smiling a little. "Come now - I doubt you are unfamiliar with seduction, Sable. Hmm?" "I'm familiar with the principles." she returned with a faint smile of her own. That was another thing - away from her boss Sable was still the consummate professional, but she lost the monotone and smiled once or twice. Ravi sat on the edge of the desk, grinning now, which caused the woman to sit back in her chair and regard him with a patiently amused raising of the eyebrow. "Perhaps we could compare notes, then. I'm always willing to learn." Ravi never really turned it off, even when joking. "You would find me an enthusiastic pupil." "Eat your apple." she told him. "And focus." With a chuckle, he slipped from his perch and once more paced, even white teeth crunching into the fruit and chewing as he considered. "Nightclubs... also not so good." he concluded at length, tossing the core into the bin by Sable's desk. "She's usually with friends, doesn't usually go out with the intent of picking up men - or women. Plus I find that the only women one can pick up in clubs are usually not worth the bother. Sleeping with a man when you haven't even had a non-shouted conversation in decent lighting betrays poor judgment and dubious self-esteem." "What about men who sleep with women under those circumstances?" Sable couldn't stop herself from asking. Ravi flashed a wicked smile. "They probably deserve the shot of penicillin to the privates that they'll inevitably end up getting." he quipped. Sable chuckled, shaking her head before going back to her keyboard as Ravi paused before a photograph of Amelia sitting in the window seat of a coffee shop. He considered for a moment. "Sable?" "Yes?" "Where was this taken?"
  9. "Your lips at-" Ravi stopped, taking a deep breath, steadying himself, forcing himself to sit back in the chair, to appear composed. He wasn't - that much was obvious to even a half-keen observer, the slight tremor of his hand and the tautness of his handsome face betraying his tension. But he put up an admirable front for such a young man. Time in prison and fending for himself had added steel to the core under the sleek exterior, and the disgraced aristocrat had been surprised himself to find that, at heart, he was possessed of at least some measure of courage, untapped before his sojourn behind bars. "Very well." he quieted the tremor of his hand with a stern glance, then reached out and picked up his drink again, taking a sip. It really was excellent. "I shall extend my trust in the same way I extend my belief in your other claim - as a gesture of good faith, hopefully rewarded in turn." Standing, he tossed back the rest of the whisky and set the glass down, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt under the jacket of his well-tailored suit. Facing D'Sombra, he smiled, inclining his head. "What deed may I perform for you, milady?"
  10. "Eleven ninety three." Ravi repeated the words carefully, taking a deep breath and a deep drink to match it. 1193. Okay. "You realise that, as a man of reason and intellect, I find that incredible." He murmured, eyeing the beautiful woman and then the looming bodyguards. "But as a man of charm and sophistication, it would ill-suit me to accuse you of either jesting or lying." "Quite." D'Sombra said with narrowed eyes over her goblet, her smile taking on an edge that could cut glass - or a throat. "Very well then. I accept on good faith your assertion that you are comfortably over eight hundred years old." Ravi inclined his head, setting his glass down with a hand that trembled only a little. "How you are over eight centuries of age is, right now, a moot point for later discussion. And so my question, Miss D'Sombra, is what does a woman of ageless beauty, poise, status, wealth and power such as yourself desire? What do you want from me? And more importantly, why me? There was a reason you had me witness the outburst, there was a reason you had me overhear the invitation to the distraught girl, and there is a reason that-" he stopped, choking back what he had been going to say next. There is a reason I dream of you, your smile, your lips at my throat, your nails on my skin, calling forth a beast from within me. Dark nightmares that are as erotic as they are bloodsoaked. Why are you in my dreams? he did not say aloud, but his thoughts screamed it.
  11. Ravi FitzCoventry

    Ravi

  12. "Not at all. Thank you for not minding my presumption." Ravi clasped her cool - almost cold - hand in his own with the practiced handshake of a born people person and terrible flirt: a single gentle but firm shake, then let his fingers slip past hers in a lingering touch that was almost a caress as he met her sable eyes with his own. "I felt, after being privy to yours and... Miss Mason, wasn't it? Anyway, you mentioned that I was part of a game along with her." "Did I?" D'Sombra smiled, a faintly malicious, if seductive smirk. She tapped a nail that was almost talonlike against her dark crimson lips. "That seems dreadfully indiscreet of me." She paced around him, her eyes mysterious as they studied his sleekly handsome profile, and then drifted over to a small cabinet done in the same style as the rest of the room. "A drink?" She half-turned, raising a brow as she regarded him keenly. "I'm going to say you are a single malt man." "A drink would be lovely... and I wouldn't be so bold as to accuse you of indiscretion, Miss D'Sombra." Ravi's warmly polite smile did a good job of hiding his faint unease at the...well. everything. The strange clothing, the portraits, the antiquities... What the dreamlike butler had said to him came back as he considered her in this her home - though his mind almost substituted 'lair' for 'home', and wondered why... The Lady D'Sombra, Thaddeus had called her, and Ravi was confident that the strange butler-like person would not have use the epithet 'Lady' lightly. His eyes wandered the walls again, noting the lack of family photographs, of portraits of anyone other than her, the lack of mirrors... even one by the door, which was practically a must-have for any woman, anywhere. From a run-down flat to a mansion, in Ravi's experience if a woman lived there then there would be a mirror close to the entrance. Perfection must be absolute before stepping out past the threshold of one's sanctum, after all. But not here. "If not indiscretion, then what would you accuse me of?" Her voice at his elbow made him start - she had walked up behind him in heels without so much as a noise or disturbance of the air - and as he turned with surprise in his eyes she smiled that seductive, malicious smile and offered him the tumbler in one hand. With the aplomb only an aristocrat could inherit, he smiled and took the proffered glass, nodding his thanks. "Nothing you would not accuse yourself of, I feel sure." he replied in a smooth amused purr, the green-gold of his eyes meeting hers over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of the fine whisky. Lowering the glass he went on, with an engaging smile. "After all, you were quite frank about your sins at the gala." He gestured with the hand holding the glass, indicating the displays of varied antiquities. "I must say, you have an absolutely wonderful collection." Ravenna D'Sombra's answer was a laugh like silver brushing velvet, quiet and lovely, yet oddly still in the large room. "Oh, it's been a while since I had a man of breeding as a guest." she smiled, eyes gleaming like jet as she dropped a tiny but significant pause after the word 'breeding'. "You dance divinely, Mr FitzCoventry. Or may I call you Ravi?" she asked as she moved toward the two chairs before the great glass window. "You most certainly may. And, if I'm not too bold, I'd say you understated your own ability when you said it had been awhile since you had danced any steps at all." he riposted with a small grin as he followed and, at her wordless gesture, took the other seat. He shook his head as if scolding her, though his smile was charming as he 'tsk'ed once. "For shame, Miss D'Sombra."
  13. "How the devil am I supposed to-? No, I imagine you can't tell me. Impossible yarn and all that." Ravi looked down at the steaming tea in his cup. "You have to admit, this is rather a lot to take in, Thaddeus." When the butler(?) did not answer, the young nobleman raised his sleek head to regard him... Or rather, where he had been. Thaddeus Alowishus Chadwick Mortimer Lightwood the Third, Esquire, was gone. The tea service on it's neat tray was gone. With a start, Ravi realised that the cup he'd been holding was gone. For a wild moment he wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing - but he could still smell the Earl Gray. That was reassuring, in a sense. It meant that either he was so far gone his senses could not be trusted, or at least something of what he'd experienced had been real. And his senses had been tricky, lately, but not deceptive. The dreams of predatory intensity, the strange flash of something malevolent and demonic under the perfect fascinating surface of Ravenna D'Sombra - something was afoot, and whether it was destiny or psychosis tapping him on the shoulder, a FitzCoventry did not run from discovery. So... The other Chosen, capital C. D'Sombra knew more, hoarding the information. He mulled that over as he made himself a cup of normal, everyday Yorkshire tea, the bags for which he'd located at a small store that dealt in British goods for expats living in New York. A small creature comfort. He stirred the drink absently as his mind flickered over what he'd seen of D'Sombra, what he'd observed. "You see, it's not a rivalry, Ms. Mason, it's a game. You, the frizzy haired little mulatto girl, the ginger military man, hell," she gestured to Ravi, who seemed quite taken aback at the sudden inclusion. "Even this man isn't here by coincidence. We know things you don't..." Yes, that fit. He remembered the pretty girl with the ample assets, how angrily she'd confronted D'Sombra and how swiftly and callously she had been routed. He didn't remember a mulatto girl, but there had been a red-haired man with a face only a drunken mother could have loved. Pieces in a game. The Chosen. A game played between D'Sombra and 'Mourn', whoever that was. So who had sent his polite and erstwhile visitor? He let out a short frustrated sigh and sipped his tea. Every answer led to another question. Fortunately, at least one answer might lead to more enlightenment. He knew where to find D'Sombra. "So, if your morals aren't afraid to get too tarnished, meet me next week, 8PM, in my office at Nyx, thirteenth floor, Google it." It was Friday night - well, Saturday morning. Next week could not come fast enough. Although the invitation had been ostensibly directed at Ms Mason, aristocracy was nothing if not good at assuming they were welcome at all the best places. And besides, if there really was a game afoot, D'Sombra would not have made a slip accidentally, surely. A test of his curiousity, or his initiative? He had doubts she was genuinely appraising him for a dancing partner, horizontal or otherwise - or maybe she was mixing her game with a little pleasure on the side. There was only one way to find out.
  14. Ravi accepted the cup, his eyes going from wide with shock to narrowing in thought. "No sugar, thank you." he said, inhaling the tea. "Smells very fine indeed, Thaddeus." A lesser mortal might have freaked the hell out right about now, but Ravi was currently convinced that this was some manner of dream. After all, tea services did not appear out of thin air, least of all - he checked, yes, ones made of fine china such as his mother would have kept as a prized heirloom. "Last time I smelled Earl Grey this good was- Well, it was a long way from here." "You are far too kind, sir." Thaddeus dropped a lump of sugar in his own cup, stirring it delicately with a small spoon. Ravi sipped the tea - yes, it had the notes of a specially blended master-brew. This whole affair was taking on a surreal quality, a 'down the rabbit-hole' vibe. Here he was, drinking fine tea served by the Ghost of Butlers Past. Or something like that. Am I insane? "Am I insane?" he asked Thaddeus conversationally. The butler-like gentleman looked mildly shocked as he gently blew on his own tea to cool it. "I sincerely hope not, sir. That would put a crimp in things, yes indeed." Thaddeus sipped, then sighed contentedly. "Well then, I shan't be so crass as to ask where you had this tea service tucked away." Ravi leaned against the counter, studying the other man. Every ounce of his considerable poise and courage kept his voice from trembling as he went on. "Though you have to allow me some curiousity - you said you wished to discuss my future?"
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