You're in too deep now.

[Adam Compton] Adam's place, is a high rise smack dab in the middle of the Magnificent Mile. It's 20 stories high, and Adam lives in the middle of it on the 10th floor. Which means, another elevator, this one less foreboding than the one in Wellington's office building, and decidedly untampered with. There is a doorman who greets them in the lobby, holding the door open for them, because it's his job, not his prerogative. Adam greets this man, whom he calls Nash with a smile and a slap on the shoulder as they exchange familiar greetings. How are the wife and kids? How's business? How about those local sports teams? How about this weather? Then they're in the elevator on their way up to the tenth floor, the lights above the door flashing like tiny round perverts above the doors. When the doors ding, and slide open at the tenth floor, Adam steps out, and slips a hand out to hold the doors for Kage, despite the fact that she'd have plenty of time to exit the elevator before it closed. Call it southern charm, though he's very notably not from the south. His keys jingle in his hand as they approach his apartment door, where he pauses and turns to look at Kage. "I'm a bachelor." He says these words by way of explanation. Or warning perhaps as he slides his key in the lock and turns. "Ignore the mess." And they're stepping inside a starkly decorated and relatively clean apartment in dark neutrals and blacks. It's almost as though she's been here before... or some other incarnation of herself has at the very least. It needs no description, for it is how she would have expected it to be. [K. R. Jakes] Kage certainly gave Adam a look as they stepped into the elevator, pausing on the threshold. When Adam and the doorman exchange their ritual greetings, she stays quiet, and the doorman's probably seen Adam with his fair share of female companions. She doesn't worry about distinguishing herself at all. He turns and looks at Kage, says, I'm a bachelor. And her voice is very dry, when she says, "I'm shocked." It may sound bitchy, but it isn't meant to. Then they're stepping in, and the mess is almost a footnote. Kage glances around with curiousity, undimmed by the relative spartan(ness?) of the space, and she sets her briefcase down where seems appropriate, slipping her coat off as she does. "Do you mind if I use the kitchen while you take your shower? I'd like some tea. Or," she adds, afterthought. "Coffee. Whatever you've got." [Adam Compton] "I probably have both." He doesn't drink either, but he's stocked his cupboards with enough non perishables to feed a small family. "Help yourself." There were days when she might find bags of pills to rival a bag of Jelly Belly jelly beans in his cupboards. He's matured since then... he keeps that stuff in the safe in his bedroom now. He sluffs out of his jacket and instead of tossing it over the back of the couch, or the arm of a chair he looks at it with a grimace and slings it over his arm to toss in with the dry cleaning. "You want to order something while I'm in there? Address is on the mail next to the phone." He disappears into his bedroom, the door closing behind him. The shower starting a few moments later. [K. R. Jakes] While Adam is in the shower. The redhaired Orphan (choice) does go through his cupboards until she finds some packets of Lipton (meh) tea and the wherewithal to boil hot water. The Chinese restaurant gets a call, and Kage orders somewhat carelessly of it. She is not the hungry one, although she will be later. An angled glance toward the bathroom door, or at least the direction Adam disappeared into -- and Kage is a curious sort've cat. But she doesn't go intruding into the interior of the bachelor's domecile, nay! Instead, she looks over the lawbooks scattered on the table, gets a jolt as she realizes that there are no bookcases -- only movies. But she looks over these, too. And . . . By the time Adam is out of the shower and ready to get down to it. . . Kage has claimed what will be her spot on his couch, and she has the Sports Illustrated (Swim Suit edition!) spread [somehow incongruous, ths picture] over her lap. She took her shoes off, and one leg is tucked under her. Most've her weight is against the couch's arm. Demure, at peace, quite calm -- and a mug of tea (rinsed out, before use) cupped in both hands. [Adam Compton] He's clean. He's dry. And thankfully he has brushed his teeth. Twice. His short cropped hair is spiked with dampness, a plain gray t-shirt hugs his upper body, and a pair of relaxed fit jeans his lower. He steps out of his room (there is a master bath) as he slips a belt through the last loop and buckles it deftly. Glancing up to spot her on the couch with his magazine in her lap. He smiles to himself as he passes through the room on bare feet and into the kitchen. The fridge door clattering bottles and jars into one another as it opens. When he emerges again a beer is in his hand, and he is twisting the cap off as he flops onto the opposite side of the couch. One arm stretched across the back of it, the other lifting the beer to his lips. "Mmmm..." He pulls the bottle away with a suction sound, his lips wet with beer, which he wipes away with the back of his hand. The hand on the back of the couch motions to the picture open in her lap. "That's a good one." His smile spreads slowly, and with obvious appreciation of the photograph. Beer returning to his lips. [K. R. Jakes] He gestures to the magazine and the model therein depicted, and Kage, who had glanced over her shoulder when Adam first returned, only to be swallowed up by his kitchen and the refrigerator, glanced up again. A different pace, now. A different model. "Hallelujah," she says, "I see that you've recovered." Her gaze glints, good humor -- or at least, easy humor. Behind the easy humor, however, lies something very else. Disturbance. Kage glances back down at the magazine, belated, and then shifts the mug of tea into one hand. She closes the magazine, and deposits it back on the coffee table where she found it. The look she gives Adam is a puzzled one, truly. But nevermind that. "Well, shall we plot and ponder now?" [Adam Compton] His smirk of reply is light hearted, and he nods making an onward motion with his free hand. "By all means. Plot and Ponder away." Leaning forward he sets the beer on the coffee table, his bright eyed gaze squinted. A little glazed. "Did you order food?" He turns his head toward her in a lazy afterthought of movement, one dark brow arched. "Did I say I was hungry?" His tongue drifts out to wet his lips, a slow almost sensual act.... though it isn't meant to be. His Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, and lifts the beer again. "Research... we need the research right? Where's your briefcase?" There is something distinctly... slow and mellow about him now that they're inside his home. It could just be the surroundings. It's probably not. [K. R. Jakes] "You may have mentioned it a couple of times," Kage says, soberly. "On the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. In the car. And the elevator." The redhaired woman re-settles, squirming into a different position. This one, her elbow is against the arm of his chair, and she is resting her (fine) jaw on her fist. Torso, half-turned; hair, still wet -- see, it gleams a little, curls a little too from condensation. Kage did not have a shower, but it was raining when they got into Adam's car. "Never fear, food has been ordered." "And, perhaps. The briefcase is just on the other side of the couch. I'm a little more concerned with that man just now, more so than -- what was her name? Mama what? Madeline? Honestly, I think the details that may help us right now will be located somewhere other than Wellington's research." Kage, as usual, sounds very -- contained -- when she speaks, as though she's given it all due thought. But at the end of that sentence, she nibbles on her lower lip. Betrayal. She's nervous, or uncertain. Tentative, or tired. [Adam Compton] He had begun to search for the briefcase, but he turns back to regard her as she carries on, and his shoulders roll in a slow shrug, hands lifting in a universal 'you're right' gesture as he leans back into the couch. "Okay. So, this guy doesn't want us hanging out together. I think he was pretty surprised to find that I wasn't your average every day handsome lawyer." A grin, brief as he rises. His heavy lidded eyes in search of his jacket. "He's vindictive... " He glances at her a quickly mimed vomiting gesture in explanation, his brows arched as though to say... obviously very vindictive! When he turns away again, he keeps talking. Having spotted his jacket slung over the back of one of the dining room chairs. "He's a fast runner." He's ticking off the stuff they know as he pulls a crumpled pack of smokes and a lighter from the pocket of his coat and turns back triumphant in his search. "He doesn't like Eggnog Latte beverages, and he tried to kill or seriously maim us at Wellington's office building." It isn't the sort of tone, or posture he'd use for court. It isn't remotely the same wording, but somehow the litigator becomes aparent in him as he presses the cigarette between his waiting lips and lights it. Inhale, as he tugs the cigarette from his lips, another random gesture of his hands as he moves back toward the couch. "I think it's pretty safe to say, he's got it out for us, and it has something to do with Wellington, and this case I'm working on." [K. R. Jakes] "Yes. And if he mucked with the elevator, hoping we'd get in and we'd die," a pause. "I'm not convinced of that, I'd like to point out. That we'd die. Maybe we would have just been stuck in the elevator for a while, although what that would have accomplished, I don't know. He could've gone into Wellington's office to get whatever he wanted to get after we left. If we had something that he needed, that he wanted, then why the elevator? We would have been isolated." A pause, as she frowns over that. Kage, in pensive mode, is a creature unto herself. After a moment's quiet, she lays that aside. She didn't taste the magi's mind, and she has no idea what manner of man he is. "So let us say that he was afraid we'd be close to finding something out that would -- somehow hurt him. Or his interests. All Welly's research is, is voudon and. Well. I've gone over this for you, already. There was money," she adds, then just leans back against the couch, resting the tea (unsipped) on her lower stomach, closing her eyes. "Did he have bad intentions in the shop?" [K. R. Jakes] "Before," she adds, "you touched caught him. Was he just watching?" [Adam Compton] She muses over the avoided elevator fiasco, and all Adam can really add is... "Why bother tampering with an elevator to slow us down when you could just randomly start a fit of vomiting?" In other words... it didn't seem like the elevator mans style to just tamper and run. Adam is convinced he had malicious intent. Call him pesimisitic. Leaning forward, seated on the edge of the couch again he flicks ash into an empty black marble ashtray on the coffee table and grips his beer. Sloshing the liquid around inside the bottle as he listens. His lips purse at some of her thoughts, and at others his brows arch. He listens the same way he talks. Expressively. "He was annoyed. He thought whatever it was he'd set out to do in the first place was done with." Which makes him pause, a brow arching. "Maybe the whole, he wanted to kill us thing was a little premature." A mild, lazy, throaty chuckle as he swallows beer. Laconic, he leans back against the sofa, lifting one bare foot up to plant on the edge of the coffee table. Comfortable. Relaxed. "Whatever he's looking for, or wants... it involves us not putting our heads together over this information." He taps her briefcase which rests on the floor beside the couch as he says this then glances at the door. "Was that the elevator?" There is another muffled ding from beyond the door and Adam rises. "Foods here." His smile is broad. Boyishly charming as he nods in after thought. "Yeah. Just watching. Mumbling to himself." Again he shrugs and heads for the door as the buzzer sounds. Stopping to get his wallet on the way. [K. R. Jakes] [Corr 1 & Mind 1 Effect: What's out there? Coincidental, 'cause eeeeverybody knows that paranoia gives added insight into the unknown! So: Diff 4 -1 practiced rote.] [K. R. Jakes] Food's here, he says, and his smile is broad and it charms. He could charm a ghost into a memory of who it was. He could charm a virtuous woman into bed. A security guard into insecurity. Kage, her eyes still closed, lifts her hand to her eyes, presses her palm agains them. Her eyelashes tickle, and she murmurs a word under her breath. Pronounces it, aslant (a fall of light). Adam's up, and off to the door. Her senses expand, and touch [touch: beloved, a verb] the hall. The elevator, the mind of the man who comes out of it. He has nothing much on his mind except his next break. Except his car, his insurance premiums, his coworker Laila, who is lovely, but has a kid, and he's just not sure. His WoW character, who needs to go up another three levels at least, before ... The guy (Greg Chan) knocks on the door, and when Adam opens it, it is to the sight of a twentysomething with clear skin, scruffy dark hair and bright but distracted eyes. "Ah, herro," he says, putting on the accent a bit thick. He's not Adam's usual. Adam's usual is that pretty coworker, Laila, because the female members of the families who own it definitely like coming to the lawyer's when he orders Chinese. "You order? This? Much money, ah." And he gives a total, and that's that. [Adam Compton] Greg has probably delivered to Adam's apartment a time or two. He isn't much of a cook, therefore he spends a lot of money on take-out. He pays the man as much money as he asks for, and gives him a five dollar tip on top of it. "Thanks. Oh hey... tell Laila 1022 says Hello." He gives the delivery man a quick grin before closing the door and sliding the chain lock into place. The livingroom is a living/dining room set up, with the dining table off the kitchen and behind the living area. Glass doors on the back wall lead to a balcony, though that is covered by thick, black and white curtains. He sets the bag of food on the dining table. "You want some wine? What goes better with Chinese? White or Red?" Disappearing into the kitchen he gathers a couple of plates and forks and glasses. A bottle of red wine tucked beneath one arm, despite the fact that he hasn't finished off his beer yet. "I should have gotten fortune cookies." He glances at Kage with a boyish glint to his lazy blue gray eyes. [Kage] Greg's gaze flickers, and then the door is shut. He makes a face at Adam's door, although there's no reason for him to. He trudges downstairs, avoiding the elevator, smoking in the stairwell is one of his few real joys. Leaving behind a nicotine trace. "Red," she says, opening her eyes to stare at the ceiling for a moment. Wash out the taste of another man's thoughts out of her head. (Wash that man right out of her hair.) She half-turns, half-gets up when Adam re-emerges, to see if his cue is going to be for a table instead of the couch and coffeetable. A boyish glint to his lazy (languid) bluegray eyes, there. "And I will have some wine." Kage, efficient, will start to take items out of the Chinese delivery bag, open the pagoda-shaped boxes of cardboard, so the fragrance of fast Chinese food begins to fill up Adam's bachelor pad. "This is what I think we should do: scry for the guy." [Adam Compton] Adam sets a fork and plate next to Kage, and sets one for himself to the side as he opens the pours the wine into two slender wine glasses. He looks up at Kage, his brows hitched together in amused question. "Scry... as in, crystal ball stuff? Or... just, you know. Look for him." He taps his head briefly with the tip of one finger. Some magi might place their beliefs in a crystal ball, but Adam is of the mind, that... well... magic is in the mind and body rather than in the objects people use to empower them. Things are placebo as far as he's concerned... but he isn't about to get into a theological discussion of paradigm in his livingroom over chinese food. Especially not after the joint he smoked in the bathroom. With the wine poured, he nods as he dishes food onto his plate and turns toward the sofa. No dinner for two at the dining room table tonight (or any night) it would seem. "We could give it a try. It might be hard... I mean. I didn't even get his name when I was bouncing around in there. Without... something to link him... it's like looking for a needle in a haystack." [Kage] As in, crystal ball stuff, he says. Kage shakes her head, then hesitates; shrugs, instead. An elegant thing, that. Also, careless. Kage has no magickal tradition to fall back on; she has no old philosophy to structure her paradigm against. Just what she means by 'scry' could be anything, as far as Adam knew. "You know what I mean," she says, and it is without the accusation that sentence usually has; he does, in fact, know what she means. At least, the fingertip to the temple would say so. Kage doesn't touch the Chinese food, after a single piece of orange chicken, a single chopstick pinch of white rice. What she wanted was the wine. "And we have this," she adds, having claimed the edge of Adam's couch again. This is a napkin, crumpled, which she holds gingerly. "It's not much," and there's something wry, admitting how little it is. "But I'm optimistic." [Adam Compton] A fork full of chow mein pauses halfway to his open mouth as she holds up the napkin and again his brows hitch together in question. "What's that?" The food is then shoveled into his awaiting mouth and he leans back to chew languidly. Plate of food on the coffee table in front of him. Glass of red wine in his free hand. After he swallows he cocks his head to one side, a slow smile sneaking onto his mouth. "You sneaky little...." It has of course dawned on him that the napkin belonged to Elevator man. "When you went back to the Coffee Bean?" It had to have been. He laughs as he leans forward, shaking his head at the forethought and planning she must have had in place to have gone back for it. "Remind me never to piss you off Kage." He chuckles around another mouthful of food. [Kage] Adam just devours the food, as he works through just what the napkin means. Kage sets it down on the side of the coffee table closest to her, the Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Edition between it and Adam's plate, just in case. Kage, meanwhile, takes a deep (draught) sip of the (red is for rememberance, good fortune and rue) wine. He's laughing because of her forethought, because of her planning. The truth is: that quality comes and goes. Kage's eyebrows knit together herself, and she grows distant(ly thoughtful). She rouses enough to give him a deadpanned line - " - just keep chewing with your mouth closed, Mister Compton." Kage sets her wineglass down on the table, on a coater, if possible. If not, on whatever is handy, which isn't the mysterious magi's napkin. The wineglass? Empty, now. [Adam Compton] "Mmm..." A murmured sound between mouthfuls of food and wine. It doesn't take him long to clean his plate at this rate, and when he does he rises and takes it into the kitchen. Rinsing it, and then putting it in the dishwasher (because he may be a bachelor but he has certain standards of living... today). When he emerges again he stops at the dining room table to pull an egg roll out of one of the cartons on the table. Taking a bite of it he pours wine into his glass with his free hand. Then brings the whole affair to the sofa with him. Egg roll held firmly between his teeth, glass in one hand, bottle in the other. He sets the bottle on the table between them and eyes it suggestively before looking at Kage's empty glass. Chewing, and swallowing a bite of food. "Help yourself." His gray blue eyes shift to the rumpled napkin, and he chuckles to himself as he leans back against the sofa, sipping his wine. "Alright. I'll need a couple things." He sounds resolute, as he drains his own wine glass and rises again to head toward his bedroom. "What about you? You need anything to... you know. Focus?" [Kage] Little says suggestively quite like a man with an eggroll between his teeth and a winglass in his hand. Kage's mouth quirks, and she shakes her head. "I shall." Demure, that. He may thrive on pot, wine, pills, whatever, may thrive in the punishment his body surely takes from it all; Kage does not. She wants a clear head. She wants not to be tipsy. The Ecstatic isn't so languorous now. He's up, he's down; he's all around. He's down, then up again. "What do you need?" Curiosity. Her interaction with the Cult has been limited, after all. Is he going to shoot up? Prepare for dismay, for a slow blink not to be followed by a slow clap. He asks her what she needs, and she stands up, stretching her arms over her head, folding them back behind. "Do you have any candles?" [Adam Compton] "Needles." Maybe he is going to shoot up. (It's been known to happen.) He replies as he disappears into the bedroom, calling back over his shoulder. "Sure, yeah. Candles... I think there might be some in the buffet." The buffet. He says it like he read it from a catalogue, and he probably did. Some furniture catalogue that was selling a dining room set complete with a buffet. The large and sleek black laquered cabinet against the wall next to the dining table. There are empty candle holders atop the buffet, and one would imagine that candles might be stored within the rarely used, more for decoration than anything, piece of furniture. "I've got a lighter." He calls again as he opens and closes drawers in his bedroom and emerges with a small wooden box in his hands. "You don't need a particular color do you?" He's been around enough to know. Some magi can be particular. [Kage] He emerges with a specific box in hand. Kage is already at the large sleek and lacquered cabinet against the wall beside the dining room table. Her head swam when she stood up, so she took another piece of orange chicken from one of the takeout pagodas and (delicately) licked her thumb and forefinger of sauce. "No," she says, in answer, studying the cabinet for a bare moment before she opens it and begins to rummage (touch as little as possible). "But I'd ideally like five? Ah, here's one." And a burnt-out, stubby wick it does have. Kage cants her body to look over her shoulder at the blonde Ecstatic, again. "How would you like to do this, Adam," and it is his house, so Kage will be courteous. "Do you want me to watch you as you look, just in case? Would you like me to ride with you -- would you like to ride with me? Or would you like to try and combine our efforts," and maybe there's a shadow of doubt, there. The way they do magick probably won't be compatible, she's thinking. [Adam Compton] Oh he'd like to ride her alright. He smirks to himself as he sets the box down on the coffee table and turns back toward her. "I'm not picky." He grins as he joins her at the buffet and pulls another drawer open sifting through it's contents. Napkin rings... probably came with a set of something that he's never used but bought because they looked alright. A set of unopened drink coasters. And lo and behold an unopened box of dinner candles. Tall and sleek. Dark, blood red. "Here to you." There are only two in the box, but with the one that has been lit there is a total of 3. She'll have to make due. "If he gets a sense of me, he'll know it's me. He's felt me inside his head before, so he knows my flavor now. If you want to give it a go, be my guest." He holds the box of candles out to her and closes the drawer. "Besides... I just ate. I'm not a binge and purge type of guy." [Kage] "All right. He has no name." Musing, her voice; quiet too. "But he has a face." Kage takes the box of candles and opens them. They are tall, sleek and red as blood; if the color throws her off, or the number, Kage does not give a sign (we save signs for wonder, miracles, and ikons). But with his permission, she starts to prepare a space on the floor. Hardwood. "Can you move that?" That, being the coffee table. Kage snags the candleholders off of the top of the buffet and sets them closely together in a circle. Then, oh then, she takes a sharpie out of her purse and starts to draw on his floor -- unless, of course, he protests. What she's drawing? A circle. Arcane-thing, a net. Just around the candles. "Hey," a different tone, suddenly. Invigorated. "Adam. You don't know anybody who might be able to pull fingerprints from an object and figure out who the fingerprints belong to, all off-record, do you?" [Adam Compton] She starts to draw on his hardwood floor with a sharpie and he makes a mild sound of distaste. "Is that... really necessary?" He doesn't sound overly offended, but... all the same. Having moved the coffee table to one side he kneels beside it and opens the small wooden box to reveal a set of long, slender acupuncture needles. "Maybe.... Why?" He looks at her with an arched brow. Curious as he pours more wine into his glass. She may want to stay level headed and clear, but he's more comfortable with a little something something in his system. [Kage] The sound of distaste causes Kage to pause and look briefly apologetic. She finishes the sigil, caps the pen and drops it back into her purse. The redhead (vibrance, that; a flake of fire is her hair) kneels on the floor, her skirt pools around her ankles. Adam said he had a lighter, and she holds out a hand -- and then looks at him in a where-is-it. If it takes him more than a moment to realize what she wanted (use magic, Adam! You should already know, duh) she'll just get her own lighter out. "Because I have somebody I want to ID. And all I have is an object he's touched." Acupuncture needles -- oh, they get a curious look, but no comment (yet). [Adam Compton] "Oh..." He digs in the pocket of his jeans to produce the lighter. A clear blue Bic. He hands it over, a characteristic wrinkle forming between his brows as he shifts from a kneel to a cross legged seat on the floor beside her freshly drawn circle. "You need an ID... but you know it's a man for sure?" Then, a sip of wine as he slips one of the needles out of the box. It wobbles in his grip, swaying as he moves his hand. "What's the object? And how soon do you need it?" After setting the wine glass aside he eases the tip of the needle into the palm of his hand, his eyes closing briefly as his body relaxes. Cheeks flushing, as his eyes flutter open and a sedated smile presses his mouth. You can make the body feel almost anything with a well places acupuncture needle. [Kage] "Thank you," she says, palming the zippo. She doesn't light the candles right away (because that will start what is, actually, an unnecessary but very helpful and careful rite). She looks at Adam as he sits and she opens her mouth to answer him. He pushes the needle in, and a word catches in her throat; she swallows it down. The needle quivers, catches a band of light and makes it into a bead. "Yes." She knows that he is a man for sure. "And as soon as possible." A ghost of a smile. I need a smile. The ghost departs, exorcised, and she answers, "A gun." "Are you ready? Just so we're clear, you're going to keep one eye open, yes?" Watch in case the mage gets murderous. [Adam Compton] His smile is languid, borderline erotic in it's own after glow kind of way as he nods. "Yeah... sure. I can get a gun printed for you." He might have asked more questions, or put up more of a fuss on another occasion. Luckily he's almost intoxicated, semi-stoned and post pleasure stimuli. Pulling the needle free of his palm, he sets it aside in the lid of the wooden box and fishes for another. "Just. Give me a second." With one hand he prods lightly at his temple, the other guiding the needle home. This is followed by another, and then a third. His eyes becoming shockingly bright as he blinks, and then nods. An act that makes the needles in his temples and the one at the tip of his chin bob comically. "Ready. I'll keep and eye out. Don't worry." This time, he does actually wink, and it's a far cry from the expression he uses to simulate one. It's lazy and mellow, at the same time boyish and cute. Not as smooth and suggestive as the would be wink, but it isn't quite as cheesy as one might expect. [Kage] [a'ight! Roll 1/3. Kage. Corr + Mind. Oh Vulgar Things. 3 + 2. Diff 5. -1 for rote. -1 for time. Diff: 3!] Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 3) [Kage] [again!] Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 8 (Success x 2 at target 2) [Adam Compton] [Tag along - Mind + Corr. Diff 6 - 1 foci] Probably not rolling right, but here goes. Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) [Kage] Somewhere Far Away: WTF? Do I feel That? Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6) [Kage] I DO, You Rat Bastards, GTFOMH. Countermagick! Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 6 (Failure at target 8) [Adam Compton] [Wits + Alertness] Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) [Kage] ooc: ahem. Sorry! This is what happens. Kage murmurs a word (it is not English) and lights each candle -- a steady hand, and care for the candle which has already been burned. They make a triangle on the black markings, and Kage presses her palms against the floor, looking not at Adam, but at the candleflames, and then not at the candleflames, but further. Focus. She only shifts to take the napkin she'd swiped from the Coffee Bean, the napkin the unknown mage used, and to hold it clenched tightly in her fist, so tightly that she can feel her fingernails re-marking her lifeline, re-drawin her palm. She could do this exact same effect with any point of light, but this is easier, this elaborate ceremony, easier now, when she wants to be cautious. After a moment, after two, she finds the man who had tampered with the elevator. The man that Adam pegs as vindictive. He's in somebody's (his, likely) apartment. There's a couchbed with a very large dent, some take-out, some bones . . . An open computer, bits of tech gadgetry all around, some signs of Geekitude. Bones, chicken bones? Cat bones? It's not very bright . . . There's an open window, though. Some mail on a low table. He's anxious, his mind's racing just as if it can't steady. He's anxious, and he's unhappy, but he thinks that he's safe. At least, at first. That changes, when he feels Kage and Adam in the back of his brain; when he feels them Looking at him from far, far away. Kage, he feels like desire -- Adam, like languor, like he can't breathe for stillness. His expression changes, and so do the flavors of his emotions. He looks up, then closes his eyes deliberately, mouth thinning. A twitch of his head, to one side. He tries to counter, and he fails. Panic leaps higher, and worry. [Adam Compton] Seated on the hardwood floor of his own apartment, Adam smiles. His head tilted to one side, the needles in his brow and chin wavering of their own accord it would seem, as he's motionless but for his breathing. "Good. Now probe deeper. Find out who he is. Why he's messing with elevators..." He's doing it himself even as he's suggesting she do it. Two heads they say, are better than one. His eyes are closed to the room that they sit in. Oblivious of the burning candles and the smell of wine and chinese food. He's fully invested in this strangers apartment. Taking it in. [Perc + Alert] Check out apartment through strangers eyes. [Mind + Corr] Probe deeper, get answers. ((rolls to follow)) [Adam Compton] Perc. + Alert Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [Adam Compton] Mind + Corr - 1 Foci Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) [Kage] GTFOMH!!!!!!!!! Countermagick, attempting this again. Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 5 (Failure at target 9) [WP] [Kage] They're in the air. They're in your head. They're there. They'll find you. They'll get you. They'll reach across. You'll know. Won't matter. Maverick Ansum (and he has a name) starts to pace. He can feel them, but he can't dislodge them: a thorn in his paw. His pacing does not have purpose. It's just reaction; it's just adrenaline. It's just furious. He walks into the bathroom and looks at his face in the mirror, the tired eyes, and Adam can see it. Can see how they narrow. Just as Adam can see what Maverick's name is. He wants to know about elevators, about Maverick's relationship with them. As it happens, Maverick is an engineer, or was an engineer before [it hurts, make it stop, make them stop, Madeline, you can make them stop, can't you. 'Of course Mama can make it stop darlink. But joo must be willing to sacrifice. Money, oh so much money exchanging hands] before. . . and and . . . oh, there's hex-bags all around Maverick's room . . . He slams his hand into the mirror, punches it right through . . . Why was he messing with the elevator, why was he . . . Adam. This is what Maverick thinks about Adam. Impression of schmaltz, this too-good-for-anything villain . . . Devil. A man who's riding with a devil, a man who's riding a devil . . . He's afraid Adam'll use Wellington's woman and they'll find out about [illegal] [costs so much money] [bargain for a life] [they'll kill - ] a deal he and Madeline were concocting, that he'll get police/officials/Traditions [new] involved, that the source of JUICE will shrivel up, dry up . . . Tongue turns gray, and when it's gray, when it's molding, then . . . He was going to kill them. He was, easiest thing to do . . . Panic. We're not all geniuses, not all Harvard Law. One big snowball. The apartment isn't just a bachelor pad. The apartment is depressing. "Fuckers!" [Kage] Kage doesn't say anything. Whatever she is seeing, whatever impressions she is forming, she'll probably share them with Adam afterward. Kage, in Adam's apartment, flinches when the man slams his fist into the mirror. When pain washes across her, someone else's. [Adam Compton] Adam uses the pain. It's what he does... he uses his bodies chemical reactions to fuel his magic. Like a mother who's child is pinned beneath a vehicle. Burst of speed. Burst of power. Fear and pain and every other emotion is just fuel. Explore it. Use it. Then make more. His own eyes would narrow at Maverick's reflection, if they weren't shut to the world. He doesn't flinch when Maverick causes himself pain, he smiles briefly into the comfortable living room of his own apartment. You're in too deep now pal. You should be scared. There is a connection between Adam and Maverick's mind that allows Adam to pass a thought or two along. Telepathy. And he uses now to water the seed of fear that they've already planted. There's no harm in a few idle threats if you hold the upper hand, and right now they do. People are usually easier to deal with when they're afraid, because they overlook things. They get sloppy, and Adam's hoping that this guy (Maverick, who's name is Maverick?) is no exception to the rule. To Kage, in a soft tone he speaks aloud. Startling, hearing a real voice among phantoms. "Are you ready to pull out yet?" Adam has seen enough. For now. Now that he has a name, and more information. Tapping into Mr. Maverick's thoughts and dreams (especially dreams!) should be easier. [Kage] "Pull out if you've got everything." Her voice is shaded low, intense; from the gut. But that might as well pass for assent. [Adam Compton] He's got everything he needs, and so it is that he pulls out. Like a spent lover, his presence is there, weighted and lazy and then with a slight tug that is both relief and pleasure, he is gone. Having rolled over onto the proverbial rumpled sheets of reality, his eyes flicker open and he blinks away the residual effects of the magick before tugging the needles from his chin and temples. A fingertip rubbing a tiny spot of blood at his chin, the only tell tale sign that a needle had been there. His head rolls slowly on his shoulders as he tucks the needles back inside their case and closes the lid. A sip of wine, and he stretches out on the floor, shifting so that his back is against the sofa. Long legs stretched out before him. "Maverick." He says the name with a mild sense of distaste. It sounds like a criminals name. "You want more wine?" [Kage] He's gone; she isn't carrying him any longer. Kage closes her eyes (they'll drink the dark down into moonlight; she hadn't closed them, but instead, had stayed focused on the points of light) and her hand unclenches. The napkin, much the worse for wear, falls to the floor. Kage's cheeks are flushed, but her attitude is cool -- of course. She leans forward and, cupping each candle, blows it out. One. Two. Three. Adam is sipping his wine, and Kage is wreathed in smoke . . . coils, writhes, fashions a hazy impression of nothing at all. A blown out candle has a distinct smell: church, sanctity, sanctuary, oh no, the house is about to burn down. "Maverick Ansum," she says. "Yes I do." Want some wine. Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 4 (Failure at target 6) [Kage] ooc: urk! there wasn't supposed to be a roll. AND IT WOULD'VE BEEN DIFF 4. NYAH. (takes it away) [Adam Compton] He pours her more wine and holds the glass out to her, then holds his out as well. "Cheers?" His slow easy smile spreading into a slow easy grin. [Kage] He has settled his back against the couch and she stands, while he pours her glass, and she stretches, before she takes it. There's a moment of -- inscrutability, for Kage; the Orphan rubs the back of her neck, slides her fingers under her hair. This has been a wearying day, after all. And a wearying weekend. It will be a wearying week, too, although she does not yet know it. "Cheers," she says, decisively. And, clink. Wineglass kiss. Then: "Well, let's go and do this." Wait, what? She isn't ready to just chill out? [Adam Compton] "Do what?" Adam drains his wine glass, his tongue drifting over his lips to clear the residual drops of wine away as he tilts his head back against the sofa and peers up at Kage. A dark blond brow cocked in query. From the expression on his face, an almost comical mingling of inquiry and amusement, one might guess at the ideas he is fostering about what exactly doing this entails. One lean leg crosses over the other as he sets his empty glass beside the sharpied circle on his floor. He seems ingrained in the scene at hand. Unwilling to move. Rooted. [Kage] Do what, he asks. And Kage gives Adam a slow look (a look, like, aren't you slow). This look will take him in his entirety: satiated, satisfied golden boy; a devil, as far as Maverick (it sounds like a criminal's name) is concerned. Then her blood heats, she flushes and drops the hand from her hair. "Talk to Maverick," she says, duh. "What else?" [Adam Compton] "Talk to him?" His brow creases and he waves a hand in the air before him, over the circle and extinguished candles. "I could have talked to him from here." He looks up again, away from the ritual utensils and at Kage. "What do you want to say to him? Please don't kill us Maverick? Cause we both know it's what he wants to do. I'm not about to google him and show up at his place to offer him an easy target." He shakes his head, as though dismissing the idea, though his gaze doesn't leave her, and slowly his expression changes from outright surprise and refusal to acceptance as he takes in her features. "Fine. Let me pop some gravol then. I'm not keen on puking my guts out as our pal Maverick bashes my skull in with whatever he can get his hands on." With a sigh, he pushes himself up off the floor. [Kage] "Something like that," Kage says, and she is a determined (stubborn) woman. If Adam has learned anything about Kage in their brief association, this is it. Kage is willful. "There's no reason we shouldn't be able to -- de-escalate this situation, face-to-face. Face-to-face is usually kinder than speaking directly into an enemies mind," she adds, and she'll offer Adam a hand, help him up from the floor. "You did talk to him from here, didn't you," she'll say, and it isn't quite an accusation. Adam is more Enlightened than Kage is. He understands Mind far better than Kage does, but she was there, she was watching the play of emotions in Maverick's head, in his blood, she was listening to the echoes, all caught up by them, watching the fallout and tasting the re-shaping of his thoughts as Adam's thoughts joined. She felt his fear grow rattlesnake sharp, she . . . well. "You don't have to come, Mister Compton. You can get some rest." [Adam Compton] "I don't want to read about you in the paper tomorrow." He shakes his head again, with a slight smirking smile and reaches for his jacket, which he'd hung on the back of a dining room chair. "Let's go before I change my mind though." Pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket he lights one and heads for the door. "You're sure you wanna do this right now? I mean... tomorrow isn't an option for you right?" It's a mild attempt at mind changing. Playful really, as he pulls the door open and sweeps a hand before him in an after you gesture. If he really wanted to change her mind. He might just be able to. [Kage] "Sooner, rather than later, would probably be wiser." Tomorrow isn't an option for Kage, Adam says, and she doesn't answer directly; who knows what tomorrow will bring? "I just don't want this man showing up at my house." The redhead reclaims her coat, and there's some flair in the way she puts it on. Some style, a hint of flamboyance which is not a distinguishing character trait. . . . which shines, at odd moments. Then she is barefoot, in a coat and a dress, and she shuffles over to Adam's door, first one foot, then the other. [Adam Compton] "Easy to avoid him by just staying here." His winning smile is... well... a winner. "Plenty of room in my bed." Smile becomes grin, and he chuckles as she makes her way across his apartment toward him. It's all in good fun. With maybe a hint of realism thrown into the mix. Flicking off the lights inside his apartment, he waits for her to ready herself, and then they head out. They take his car, again. Or rather... one of his cars. He has two. The Saab they arrived at his place in, and a rusted old Omni. It's the Omni they take now. "My slumming car." Is what he calls it as he starts it up and they pull out of the parking garage. "I'd be willing to bet that our pal Maverick isn't going to be home when we get there." He looks across the dash at her, a brow arching, a self satisfied smile on his handsome features. "He didn't seem like he was in the mood to hang out when last we spoke." With a grin, he turns into traffic and starts across the city... to... where ever it is that they are going.