Today, I made an appearance downtown. I'm an expert witness, because I say I am.

[howangryarethey]

On Monday morning, a limo pulls up in front of the Conrad and Adam Monroe, plus a few ranking Organization personnel and all their individual security details, arrive at the Conrad Hotel for a meeting. They head straight to the meeting room without lingering too long outside or in the lobby, and while Adam is choking down a deep-rooted urge to kill

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[trust_mistruth]

The Trust contingent has already made their way in. The Master is standing, picking through the catered breakfast on the banquet by the wall; he doesn't turn as they come in.

"In 10 Downing Street," he says instead, announcing it as though it's a matter of high interest, "in the cabinet room, they've thought to provide a bottle of port. I wouldn't go so far as to call it excellent, but it's certainly serviceable. Here..."

He finally turns, holding up one of the carafes and one of the coffee pots.

"Coffee and cream, anyone?"

The overwrought smile that accompanied that remark vanishes after another moment, and he puts the drinks back down.

"Sit down, everyone," he orders, walking to put his hands on the back of his own chair. "I'd offer you all juice and pastries, but as you're about ten days late for our little rendezvous I think you should be glad we didn't start without you."

[howangryarethey]

Adam folds his hands behind his back and puts on the most saccharine smile he can manage, which is pretty damn saccharine, but no less threatening. This is his city. He made a deal with these people that he wouldn't interfere with them if they didn't interfere with him. The Organization's embarrassing turn of failures here lately aside, what could these people possibly want?

"As I said, you picked a complicated time to arrive. I do apologize for the wait," he says, resisting the urge to add a snipe about why the hell anyone would choose Christmas as a good time for diplomatic negotiations.

He waves off the offer. "Nothing for me, thank you. Leona?" He turns to the woman at his side, gritting his teeth in what looks like a charming smile, but his eyes say differently. If this goes sour, you have my permission to kill every last one of them.Death happens in Chicago. He doesn't particularly want to go to war with the Trust, but he doesn't want them here either. In the end, someone always does have to make that hard choice for the

[sinsofskin]

"If you're pouring, I'll have a coffee. Two sugars, dash of cream, and if you could toss in an ice cube or two, that would be lovely. If you're not, though, I'd hate to delay you any further."

She accompanies this with perhaps a bit too sweet and dazzling a smile, quietly challenging their new guest to play the teamaid. She pulls out her own chair, though, sinking gracefully into it. She has absolutely no problem with that little directive Adam just gave her.

Granted, a meeting room in the Conrad Hotel is not the best place for a demoness to kill a bunch of people, but they're the Organization. They can afford to clean that up, if it becomes absolutely necessary.

[howangryarethey]

And that is why Adam adores Leona Sandric. If there's one person in the Organization, he can trust to understand him, it's her.

He takes a seat. "Since you've already been waiting for so long, I'm sure you won't mind if we skip the pleasant chitchat and skip right to the point."

There's nothing unpleasant about his tone. It's perfectly polite. In a way that suggests that he wants these people out of his city as quickly as possible.

[trust_mistruth]

"Well then," the Master says, practically purring, "if chitchat so offends..." He's the very model of solicitousness, of course.

He sinks gracefully into his own seat and steeples his fingers, pointedly oblivious to Leona's request. Adam did request they get to business, after all.

"You're aware of the Trust's mandate, of course. Protecting the sovereignty of Earth against any and all outside threats. Threats like, oh, Time Lords. I'm sure you've heard of them - they're a bit thick on the ground here, wouldn't you say?" His expression is all innocent inquiry: the slightest lift of an eyebrow, his lips settling into a little moue.

"And, of course, the Wanderer situation..." He shrugs. "The current state of Chicago is, I'm afraid, quite relevant to our interests. And, given that the current treaty appears to interfere with our fulfilling that mandate..."

He smiles. It's a perfectly polite smile. One might even call it apologetic, and honestly so -- he would be sorry to have to kill them all without the chance to have some fun with

[howangryarethey]

Adam narrows his eyes, his smile fading. Of course. Of. Bloody. Course. He knew this couldn't just be a routine check-up, the Trust checking up on the political clime, and seeing if perhaps he isn't in control of his own organization as he thinks he is. He could handle that.

He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together, the very portrait of wariness mixed with serious consideration, his jaw tight with a tension that he's not sure has as much to do with the circumstance as it does the Master, himself. "I'm sure you have your terms already laid out," he remarks dryly, neither consenting nor challenging.

[trust_mistruth]

"I did take the time to work out the most salient points," the Master admits. He pushes, just a little. Not to make himself liked, or trusted, but rather a sense of small sacrifices for a greater good - Adam's in no position to have a war brought to his doorstep. Much easier, much cleaner to avoid that, if at all possible.

"We want a foothold here in Chicago. Of course, we have no intention of interfering with your business; our own interests lie in a somewhat different area, and I'd be happy to formalise the conditions of noninterference. The same goes for right of salvage on the local Rift openings, so long as we don't interfere with your own operations. The ability to recruit from the local populations: human, supernatural, and... other." He raises an eyebrow. He's asking for so little, really

[sinsofskin]

Oh hell no. Not when Leona's put time, effort and resources into cultivating assets in Torchwood. Much as she'd like to believe that her Torchwood assets would upgrade into even more valuable Trust assets, the reality of this sort of work is that they'd just get shipped off to India at the first sign of trouble.

She leans forward, smoothly usurping the conversation from Adam. She has faith that he won't mind.

"Torchwood is a wanderer authority," she points out. "Damn near the only one in these parts. Do you honestly think we or they are going to let you walk in and assume de facto control - figurehead control, at least - of the entire wanderer population?"

[howangryarethey]

Adam holds a hand up- not to keep Leona from speaking, but to keep the Master from retorting and turning this into a fight before he's ready for it to be one. "Ms. Sandric has a point," he says, not giving away his feeling of apprehension. "I know you've waited long enough as it is, but we'll need a few days to draw up with an appropriate counteroffer. One that keeps our interests in mind."

He smiles, still saccharine to the point of obvious insincerity, "I'm sure you won't mind an extra week or so away from New Delhi."

[trust_mistruth]

The Master may hesitate at that, but not for long. After all, the arithmetic isn't difficult to do: the Trust has more time to poke about this city and inquire as to its populations, he has more time to wring some sort of assistance out of the Doctor's thick skull, and the Organization...

Well, they asked for it in the first place, didn't they?

He smiles. "We'd be only too happy to accept the invitation to stay in your fair city," he says. "We'll just make ourselves at home, shall we?"

And perhaps take the opportunity to... examine... a few of the particularities of this city's political landscape up close.

[howangryarethey]

"Thank you," Adam says, standing up and bringing the security detail to their feet as well. "We'll contact you when we've made our decision. Same place?"

Not that he particularly wants to keep meeting at the Conrad, but he figures the happier he makes the Trust, the more chances he has to make them unhappy later.

He doesn't wait for a response, merely heads for the door. "We'll be in touch," he throws casually over his shoulder before he exits.

As soon as there's a door and a good hundred feet of hallway, Adam remarks to Leona, dropping all hints of casual civility. "I despise that man."

The lobby is crowded, which is surprising, all things considering. It's a miracle the Conrad's been able to maintain business in this city. Still, as much as Adam hates the obnoxious thrum of crowds, they make for excellent cover in this sort of circumstance, just in case the Trust is watching them leave.

[sinsofskin]

"I could make it look like an accident..." Leona serves back.

Which is a lie.

It's hard to make evisceration and dismemberment look accidental.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor is lurking around the front desk, harassing the receptionist in his entirely well-meaning way. The poor receptionist is looking a little frazzled, either because of the crowd in general, or because Martha didn't see fit to warn her staff about the possibility of an overbearing Time Lord lurking around the hotel, making their lives difficult. Either one is a possibility.

The Doctor doesn't notice the Organization heads and their security detail, mainly because... well, someone hasn't been paying as much attention to Chicago politics as he probably should have. They, however, might just notice him.

[howangryarethey]

Adam happens to turn his head at the right moment and catches sight of the Doctor. Yeah, you may not notice Chicago politics, Doctor, but they notice you and ever since the Christmas before last, the Org's got a list of Persons of Interest in Chicago about three miles long.

The Doctor, especially with the Trust's view on Time Lords, might be right near the top.

He holds up a hand to signal the group to stop. "Leona, I'm having a thought," he says, nodding towards the Doctor with a wry smile.

He expects her to know what he means.

[sinsofskin]

In the absence of lederhosen, Leona knows exactly what he means.

She detaches herself from the group, interposing herself at the front desk with an apologetic smile and a "Terribly sorry, I'll handle this" to the receptionist. She follows that up by appropriating the Doctor's right hand, clasping it in both of hers with a grip which, while not painful or even uncomfortable, is still firm enough to go beyond a usual handshake and cross over into perhaps you should play along territory.

"The Doctor, if I'm not mistaken?" She smiles. "Leona Sandric. You would be here for the Trust conference?"

There's a very calculated not enough time to answer between that question and her next words.

"There have been a few revisions on the terms; we just want to make sure everyone's up to date before they walk in. If you'd just step outside with us..."

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor raises an eyebrow, studies Leona's face for a second, and then decides that he doesn't really want to argue with the demon who's... not exactly threatening him. Particularly if she's offering to tell him something useful, and if nothing else... well, he has a TARDIS all prepared to come to his rescue if he walks into something he can't get himself out of.

He's less keen on walking away when he knows the Master's somewhere in the building, but when there's a possibility he'll just disappear again... hunting him down may not be the best idea.

The Doctor smiles, inclines his head to one side, and then... tries to extricate his hand. He doesn't need to be dragged. If these people know anything about them, they really should know that he'll happily walk into the lion's den of his own accord.

"Of course. By all means, lead the way."