[LOG] An Introduction
Setting: King Street and Embassy Way
Quina is just coming out of one of the finer dining establishments with a young woman. They speak quietly for a moment, then bid their farewells. The young woman heads off in one direction, and Quina pauses for a moment to pack something into a pouch.
Featherstone is exiting the Begman Embassy. He has three harried-looking young men with him. Each of the young men carries a small pad and stylus.
Quina gets her things stored, then has a look around her. Her expression is that of someone with a little time to kill and unsure yet how she wants to spend it.
Featherstone bustles by, young clerks in his wake, and tips his hat to the lady. "Afternoon," he mutters as he passes.
Quina inclines her head. Despite that she's not entirely pristinely kempt, her mannerisms and bearing speak of nobility. "Good afternoon, sir." she replies to him.
Featherstone stops abruptly in his tracks. The first of the clerks runs into Featherstone who glares at the other two maliciously. He then looks at Quina. "Hieronymus Featherstone," he grumbles by way of introduction. He points at the Begman Embassy building. "Have you noticed any unusual activity around there, recently?"
The sudden stop causes Quina to look towards the man again, curious. "Lady Quina of Chantris." she replies politely. Looking then towards the embassy, she shakes her head. "I do not frequent this part of the city often enough to tell, sir. But what would you consider 'unusual'?"
Featherstone replies, "People moving around. Large packages being delivered at odd hours. Or, indeed, at any hour. Explosions. That sort of thing."
Quina looks from Featherstone to the embassy, and back. "Explosions?" she asks, as though she isn't following.
Featherstone nods. "Explosions," he says. "Particularly loud or destructive ones, specifically."
Quina studies the building again. "It doesn't look as though there is any recent damage, sir."
Featherstone studies the building along with Quina. He appraises it as if regarding it for the first time. "Quite right, young lady. Quite right, indeed! It seems that any undue experimentation has been properly contained." He bows and, in so doing, clicks his heels together. "You've been a great help," he says and seems to mean it. "You have my thanks." He then turns to one of the clerks and barks, "Carruthers! Make a note of my gratitude to Lady Quina of...er, Chantris, was it?"
Quina doesn't look certain at all what to make of the gentleman. "Chantris, yes." she replies to him slowly as though sizing him up a bit. "Experimentation?" she asks then, though there's a quality to her voice and expression that says she isn't certain she wants to know.
Featherstone straightens up. "Scientific Experimentation!" he says. "I'm to replace the outgoing ambassador and my boys and I are evaluating the place. We don't want to be charged for pre-existing conditions do we, boys?" The clerks all shake their heads and make vague noises of agreement.
Quina ahhs quietly. "I can see that, yes." she agrees, looking at the clerks for a moment. "Is that why the Abassador is being replaced? He blew something up?"
Featherstone nods, "Blew the wrong thing up, is more like it. Among other infractions, I daresay." He looks once again at the building and then to Quina. "Have you lived here long?" he asks. The clerks appear ready to take notes.
Quina's gaze flickers to the men, then back to their boss. "In Amber? I am Chantris, sir." she repeats. "Amber is our home. You are newly-arrived from Begma then?"
Featherstone replies, "I am, indeed. Just off the boat, as it were. It seems an agreeable place." He takes a deep breath, "Air's a bit clean but you can't have everything."
Quina blinks once. "How do you mean?" she asks him. "How else should the air be?"
Featherstone says, "Full of smoke, milady. Redolent with the scent of progress! Why, in Begma you can barely see across the street for all the productivity."
Quina stares. "Smoke is hard to breathe in." she notes. "At least, it is in Amber."
Featherstone nods agreeably. "One gets used to it. I've had the most dreadful cough ever since arriving here. So, you've not visited Begma?"
Quina replies "My travels typically take me to countrysides, sir. I train horses, so I travel for business and to study them.
Dax strides down the street, clamping down on his hat with one hand against a stray breeze. His eyes pick out individuals as he passes, summing them up and dismissing them until his gaze settles on Featherstone. Without hurrying any further, he aims in the direction of the ambassador.
Featherstone says, "Horses! I don't know much about--" He stops speaking abruptly as he spies Dax. The clerks see Dax, as well, and begin to look even more nervous than they did before. "Dax!" Featherstone shouts. "You've completed that, ah, mission, I take it?"
Dax looks Quina up and down, then his eyes flit back to Featherstone. "Could say that, Boss. Ticked it right off the list."
Featherstone makes a grand gesture and says, "Quina of Chantris, allow me to introduce my Chief of Public Relations, Deveraux Endicott."
Dax taps the brim of his hat perfunctorily. "Charmed, yeah."
Quina tilts her head slightly as Featherstone is distracted, and turns to look towards Dax. Her chin rises a bit as she's looked over, her bearing and posture very proper. When they are introduced, her head inclines slightly. "Master Endicott."
Dax adds, nonchalantly, "Mission accomplished, so on and whatever, a few details got sticky. Gummed up the works something proper, nothing a good whack with a hammer wouldn't take care of. Gears grinding on just fine now, might need cleaning. Thought you should know, Boss."
Featherstone nods slowly as a grin spreads across his face. He says, "Well done." Then to the first clerk, "Carruthers! Alert the cleaners." Carruthers appears to be far more terrified than he should be at the prospect of talking to cleaners.
Quina considers the small man. "Public Relations?" Clearly, she doesn't think the presentation quite lives up to the title. "Mm."
Dax smiles toothily at Quina. "What it says on my business cards, right? So I'm public relations. There's a public, I relate to 'em. Publicly."
Featherstone nods and says, "One must make good contacts when one is a diplomat." It's not clear to whom, exactly, he is speaking.
Dax takes his hat off to run a tidying hand through his close-cropped hair. "I see any diplomat types, I'll tell 'em that."
Quina purses her lips. "I see, sir." she replies, evidently to both of them. "Well, I won't keep you from your business, then." She seems to follow his meaning well enough.
Featherstone does the heel-click and bow again, "Pleasure to meet you, Lady Quina. Until next time, then."
Dax slaps his hat back on his head, and watches Quina, appraising again.
"A pleasure, Ambassador. Master Endicott." Quina replies, nodding to both before continuing on her way down the street with an easy grace.
Dax squints up at Featherstone. "Not wasting any time sizing up local options, are you? Or was that business?"
Featherstone says, "Bit of both, my boy. No need not to mix."
Dax shrugs one shoulder. "Perk of the job? Your call." He fixes the nearby clerks with a frown, just in case any of them was thinking funny thoughts in his direction. "Now as we're not so public, were you wanting a follow-up on that job? Loose ends, that sort of thing."
Featherstone leans down towards Dax and lowers his voice. "Yes. Anything need wrapping up?"
Dax hooks his thumbs in his jacket. "Depends on how loose ends can get before they start unraveling. Nothing direct, Boss, but I can get proactive if you want more insurance."
Featherstone replies, "Just keep an eye on it. No need to stir up the locals our first week in town, eh?" Then to the first clerk, "Carruthers! Back to the Embassy! Type up the reports!"
Carruthers sets a new land-speed record on his way to the front door.
Dax examines his fingernails critically. "Whatever you want, Boss. Figured I'd offer, since you set me up with this salary and all. Wouldn't even charge extra."
Featherstone smiles and turns to the two remaining clerks. "You hear that?" he growls at them. "That is the sort of attitude that attracts promotions! That is the sort of attitude that keeps word of certain indiscretions from getting back to one's parents. Barclay." Then more quietly to Dax, "Nice to see you're settling in, lad."
Dax frowns at the "lad." Fortunately, he's being paid enough to take it in stride. "Not so different from home. Air's too thin, city's too quiet, but people here bleed about the same as they do in Begma, so who's complaining?"
Featherstone says, "Not I." Then to the clerks, "And nobody else who knows what's good for them." Back to Dax, "Besides, I like it quiet. Some of these folks will never know what hit 'em."
Dax grins broadly. "More fun when they never see it coming. I can keep it quiet, Boss. Just you let me know if there's noise about keeping you up at night or what not."
Featherstone nods, "And any extracirricular activities you get up to are fine." He leans in closer, "Just keep those extra quiet."
"You know me, Boss," Dax says, indignant. "Soul of discretion I am. You won't be hearing one word from anyone against me. If they know what's good for them."
Featherstone's grin is one-sided, this time. "Remind me to give you a raise, Mr. Endicott."
Dax's smile is sharp. "Next time I've done you a little favor, Boss. Wouldn't want to get greedy, now, would I?"
Featherstone's eyes narrow and his voice lowers further. "No," he says slowly, dragging the syllable out. "You wouldn't."
Dax's smile flattens, now, and he taps his hat in grudging respect. "You do know me. Loyal as a dog. You have any other 'missions' or should I just be on my way to look into those loose ends?"
Featherstone says, "Don't let me keep you. Let me know if you require any further assistance from the Fatherland." He makes a half turn in the direction of the embassy and then turns back to Dax. "Oh, if it's not too much trouble, old boy, I would appreciate it if you could have a word with Mr. Wincott. He's not performing up to standards." This is followed by a look so meaningful that a proper description of it could fill a book.
"I'll go have a quick chat with the man," Dax says. "Public relations, and all. Can't have anyone dragging down the good name of Begma by not doing their job right." He reacquires a toothy smile, and pivots neatly on one heel to go.
Featherstone makes a gesture that might be a salute and drags the two clerks towards the embassy.
Quina is just coming out of one of the finer dining establishments with a young woman. They speak quietly for a moment, then bid their farewells. The young woman heads off in one direction, and Quina pauses for a moment to pack something into a pouch.
Featherstone is exiting the Begman Embassy. He has three harried-looking young men with him. Each of the young men carries a small pad and stylus.
Quina gets her things stored, then has a look around her. Her expression is that of someone with a little time to kill and unsure yet how she wants to spend it.
Featherstone bustles by, young clerks in his wake, and tips his hat to the lady. "Afternoon," he mutters as he passes.
Quina inclines her head. Despite that she's not entirely pristinely kempt, her mannerisms and bearing speak of nobility. "Good afternoon, sir." she replies to him.
Featherstone stops abruptly in his tracks. The first of the clerks runs into Featherstone who glares at the other two maliciously. He then looks at Quina. "Hieronymus Featherstone," he grumbles by way of introduction. He points at the Begman Embassy building. "Have you noticed any unusual activity around there, recently?"
The sudden stop causes Quina to look towards the man again, curious. "Lady Quina of Chantris." she replies politely. Looking then towards the embassy, she shakes her head. "I do not frequent this part of the city often enough to tell, sir. But what would you consider 'unusual'?"
Featherstone replies, "People moving around. Large packages being delivered at odd hours. Or, indeed, at any hour. Explosions. That sort of thing."
Quina looks from Featherstone to the embassy, and back. "Explosions?" she asks, as though she isn't following.
Featherstone nods. "Explosions," he says. "Particularly loud or destructive ones, specifically."
Quina studies the building again. "It doesn't look as though there is any recent damage, sir."
Featherstone studies the building along with Quina. He appraises it as if regarding it for the first time. "Quite right, young lady. Quite right, indeed! It seems that any undue experimentation has been properly contained." He bows and, in so doing, clicks his heels together. "You've been a great help," he says and seems to mean it. "You have my thanks." He then turns to one of the clerks and barks, "Carruthers! Make a note of my gratitude to Lady Quina of...er, Chantris, was it?"
Quina doesn't look certain at all what to make of the gentleman. "Chantris, yes." she replies to him slowly as though sizing him up a bit. "Experimentation?" she asks then, though there's a quality to her voice and expression that says she isn't certain she wants to know.
Featherstone straightens up. "Scientific Experimentation!" he says. "I'm to replace the outgoing ambassador and my boys and I are evaluating the place. We don't want to be charged for pre-existing conditions do we, boys?" The clerks all shake their heads and make vague noises of agreement.
Quina ahhs quietly. "I can see that, yes." she agrees, looking at the clerks for a moment. "Is that why the Abassador is being replaced? He blew something up?"
Featherstone nods, "Blew the wrong thing up, is more like it. Among other infractions, I daresay." He looks once again at the building and then to Quina. "Have you lived here long?" he asks. The clerks appear ready to take notes.
Quina's gaze flickers to the men, then back to their boss. "In Amber? I am Chantris, sir." she repeats. "Amber is our home. You are newly-arrived from Begma then?"
Featherstone replies, "I am, indeed. Just off the boat, as it were. It seems an agreeable place." He takes a deep breath, "Air's a bit clean but you can't have everything."
Quina blinks once. "How do you mean?" she asks him. "How else should the air be?"
Featherstone says, "Full of smoke, milady. Redolent with the scent of progress! Why, in Begma you can barely see across the street for all the productivity."
Quina stares. "Smoke is hard to breathe in." she notes. "At least, it is in Amber."
Featherstone nods agreeably. "One gets used to it. I've had the most dreadful cough ever since arriving here. So, you've not visited Begma?"
Quina replies "My travels typically take me to countrysides, sir. I train horses, so I travel for business and to study them.
Dax strides down the street, clamping down on his hat with one hand against a stray breeze. His eyes pick out individuals as he passes, summing them up and dismissing them until his gaze settles on Featherstone. Without hurrying any further, he aims in the direction of the ambassador.
Featherstone says, "Horses! I don't know much about--" He stops speaking abruptly as he spies Dax. The clerks see Dax, as well, and begin to look even more nervous than they did before. "Dax!" Featherstone shouts. "You've completed that, ah, mission, I take it?"
Dax looks Quina up and down, then his eyes flit back to Featherstone. "Could say that, Boss. Ticked it right off the list."
Featherstone makes a grand gesture and says, "Quina of Chantris, allow me to introduce my Chief of Public Relations, Deveraux Endicott."
Dax taps the brim of his hat perfunctorily. "Charmed, yeah."
Quina tilts her head slightly as Featherstone is distracted, and turns to look towards Dax. Her chin rises a bit as she's looked over, her bearing and posture very proper. When they are introduced, her head inclines slightly. "Master Endicott."
Dax adds, nonchalantly, "Mission accomplished, so on and whatever, a few details got sticky. Gummed up the works something proper, nothing a good whack with a hammer wouldn't take care of. Gears grinding on just fine now, might need cleaning. Thought you should know, Boss."
Featherstone nods slowly as a grin spreads across his face. He says, "Well done." Then to the first clerk, "Carruthers! Alert the cleaners." Carruthers appears to be far more terrified than he should be at the prospect of talking to cleaners.
Quina considers the small man. "Public Relations?" Clearly, she doesn't think the presentation quite lives up to the title. "Mm."
Dax smiles toothily at Quina. "What it says on my business cards, right? So I'm public relations. There's a public, I relate to 'em. Publicly."
Featherstone nods and says, "One must make good contacts when one is a diplomat." It's not clear to whom, exactly, he is speaking.
Dax takes his hat off to run a tidying hand through his close-cropped hair. "I see any diplomat types, I'll tell 'em that."
Quina purses her lips. "I see, sir." she replies, evidently to both of them. "Well, I won't keep you from your business, then." She seems to follow his meaning well enough.
Featherstone does the heel-click and bow again, "Pleasure to meet you, Lady Quina. Until next time, then."
Dax slaps his hat back on his head, and watches Quina, appraising again.
"A pleasure, Ambassador. Master Endicott." Quina replies, nodding to both before continuing on her way down the street with an easy grace.
Dax squints up at Featherstone. "Not wasting any time sizing up local options, are you? Or was that business?"
Featherstone says, "Bit of both, my boy. No need not to mix."
Dax shrugs one shoulder. "Perk of the job? Your call." He fixes the nearby clerks with a frown, just in case any of them was thinking funny thoughts in his direction. "Now as we're not so public, were you wanting a follow-up on that job? Loose ends, that sort of thing."
Featherstone leans down towards Dax and lowers his voice. "Yes. Anything need wrapping up?"
Dax hooks his thumbs in his jacket. "Depends on how loose ends can get before they start unraveling. Nothing direct, Boss, but I can get proactive if you want more insurance."
Featherstone replies, "Just keep an eye on it. No need to stir up the locals our first week in town, eh?" Then to the first clerk, "Carruthers! Back to the Embassy! Type up the reports!"
Carruthers sets a new land-speed record on his way to the front door.
Dax examines his fingernails critically. "Whatever you want, Boss. Figured I'd offer, since you set me up with this salary and all. Wouldn't even charge extra."
Featherstone smiles and turns to the two remaining clerks. "You hear that?" he growls at them. "That is the sort of attitude that attracts promotions! That is the sort of attitude that keeps word of certain indiscretions from getting back to one's parents. Barclay." Then more quietly to Dax, "Nice to see you're settling in, lad."
Dax frowns at the "lad." Fortunately, he's being paid enough to take it in stride. "Not so different from home. Air's too thin, city's too quiet, but people here bleed about the same as they do in Begma, so who's complaining?"
Featherstone says, "Not I." Then to the clerks, "And nobody else who knows what's good for them." Back to Dax, "Besides, I like it quiet. Some of these folks will never know what hit 'em."
Dax grins broadly. "More fun when they never see it coming. I can keep it quiet, Boss. Just you let me know if there's noise about keeping you up at night or what not."
Featherstone nods, "And any extracirricular activities you get up to are fine." He leans in closer, "Just keep those extra quiet."
"You know me, Boss," Dax says, indignant. "Soul of discretion I am. You won't be hearing one word from anyone against me. If they know what's good for them."
Featherstone's grin is one-sided, this time. "Remind me to give you a raise, Mr. Endicott."
Dax's smile is sharp. "Next time I've done you a little favor, Boss. Wouldn't want to get greedy, now, would I?"
Featherstone's eyes narrow and his voice lowers further. "No," he says slowly, dragging the syllable out. "You wouldn't."
Dax's smile flattens, now, and he taps his hat in grudging respect. "You do know me. Loyal as a dog. You have any other 'missions' or should I just be on my way to look into those loose ends?"
Featherstone says, "Don't let me keep you. Let me know if you require any further assistance from the Fatherland." He makes a half turn in the direction of the embassy and then turns back to Dax. "Oh, if it's not too much trouble, old boy, I would appreciate it if you could have a word with Mr. Wincott. He's not performing up to standards." This is followed by a look so meaningful that a proper description of it could fill a book.
"I'll go have a quick chat with the man," Dax says. "Public relations, and all. Can't have anyone dragging down the good name of Begma by not doing their job right." He reacquires a toothy smile, and pivots neatly on one heel to go.
Featherstone makes a gesture that might be a salute and drags the two clerks towards the embassy.