Sivadian Diplomacy

Foreign Minister Constantine Isherwood meets some curious visitors to Sivad, and has a conversation of some import with Second Councilor Marbury...

Montevedo Street 

The pedestrian walkways along busy Montevedo Street are impeccably maintained by hard-working crews of Specialists - shaved-scalped human clones with black ink tattoos emblazoned on their scalps, identifying them by number and bar code. On one side of the thoroughfare stands the massive crystalline structure of Independence Dome - a monument that has been shattered and rebuilt several times during its history. On the other side, an escalation ramp leads to the district hovercab platform. Patrol bots - orb-like and bristling with weaponry both non-lethal and deadly - keep watch over the shops, watching for shoplifters.

Making his way out of the council building, Constantine is flanked, as always with four guards from the Office of Foreign Affairs. They keep a steady eye on their ward, while he makes his way through the street. However, spying the minor gathering of individuals, the Councilor pauses and watches the ongoing scene.

An imperious, straight-backed young woman with an inch-long crewcut, long angular limbs and honey-espresso skin is at present shouldering her way past any unfortunate passerbys en route to the hovercab platform. Beside her, a stocky bald young man - a bit shorter than she is and trying valiantly to keep up with her long-legged strides - seems to be somewhat agitated and asking a flurry of questions, all of which she responds to with quiet snorts and animated wrist-gestures. "Ah's /not/ a worry-wart, Titch an' yo' ain't one t'talk yo'self lan'sakes! Nuh-uh-/uh/ do ah need t'go int' th'tim' yo' tried t'baby Colehatch? Mah lawd'n butter!"

"Oh, just bumming around mostly", Voltari grins and replies to Linus, glancing about the street for a moment, gaze falling upon the others.

Linus nods to Voltari, looking to Connely, "Open your bar yet?"

After playing around with the shoulder fabric of his jacket for a minute, Hunter stops trying to adjust it. He sighs slightly as he glances around the street.

Voltari smiles as he looks back at Linus, nodding slightly, "Oh, she's fine. Resting now, so I sneaked out for a walk", he chuckles some.

Carduus steps out of Independence Dome onto Montevedo Street. The doors whoosh shut.

Carduus has arrived.

Linus nods slowly to Voltari. He plops down on the bench tiredly.

"And what have you been doing?", Voltari inquires of Linus, tilting his head to look up at the night sky.

Carduus steps into the street, his boots making a 'thwap, thwap' noise as they hit the ground. His gaze is that of anger barely veiled by a ethereal smile.

"Usual mischief." Linus replies enigmatically to Voltari.

Carduus nods at Connely and Voltari before sitting down at a bench. He pulls out a drawing pad and begins to sketch passers-by.

Various sounds and sights could catch the eye on this street and many do; it is the spectacle of Carter-DeVille and her agitated companion, however, that draws Constantine's attention. Paused as he is, he watches from the short distance that separates his entourage from her own as he speaks in lowered tones to his current companion. The security man at his right elbow nods slightly, paying close attention to the uttered remarks of the Foreign Minister.

Voltari looks at Carduus as he notices the motion, smiling, "Hi Carduus"

"Awww TC don't start wit' me mama!" groans the unfortunate Titch as he hurries after the woman. "Owaine'll be all right, you just know he will be. He's gotta slaggin' /compass/ for cryin' out..." The angular diva-like Carter-DeVille cuts off the rest of the words with a raised, aristocratic finger. "Titch...ah don't wan' t'hay-re another word. Ah's th'one who brought O-wayne hey-re an' ah's gonna see his de-ree-air back, yo' un'erstan' honey chile?" She pauses in order to deliver this reprimand, momentarily blocking pedestrian traffic at the base of the hovercab platform.

Hunter starts to make his way towards the hovercab platform. He slows as

he nears the bottom of the ramp leading to the platform above.

Voltari smiles and sighs slightly as he looks back at Linus, "Cant you give me another answer some time?"

Carduus says to Voltari, "Hey." He raises an eyebrow at the overenthusiastic Titch.

Linus shrugs incorrigibly at Voltari. "Maybe."

A passing glance is given to the others assembled. Considered and studied for a moment or two, Constantine's attention is inevitably drawn towards Carter-DeVille. A striking figure with a striking manner, it is not difficult to see why one would give the woman and her less than pleased companion a second glance. The black-clad Councilor nods again to something spoken to him, then raises a finger towards the security man at his side. "No," he utters in that clipped voice so skilled at delivering speeches, "Re-arrange that meeting. Later in the week." The security officer, and apparently part-time aide de camp, simply nods as he punches something into a hand-held device.

Voltari chuckles and shakes his head, looking over at Carduus again, "Drawing something?", he asks him, pointing at the drawing pad momentarily.

"Take it easy." Linus says to Voltari, striding away.

It takes Carter-DeVille a moment or so to register the arrival of Hunter. "Oh ah am so sorry honey-chile," she apologizes, for all the world like a Southern belle asking pardon for being late to her own cotillion. She then steps aside and reaches out a thin-fingered hand to yank Titch away too. "Hey-re, yo' kin get up they-re whenever yo' want, uh-uh-uh." Titch, having been consigned to reluctant silence for at least a moment, merely watches moodily, not protesting his being thusly dragged.

Marsyn steps out of Independence Dome onto Montevedo Street. The doors whoosh shut.

Marsyn has arrived.

A whirring, armored hovertank emerges bearing a wizened Centauran -- not something that is seen on Montevedo street on a daily basis.

Carduus says to Voltari, "Yeah, everyone h-" He stops at the appearance of the jellyfish. His face turns to an impassive slate. "Everyone here.", he finishes.

Like the sun rising, it takes its time in coming, but eventually a faint, amused smile creeps across Constantine's sharp, angular features. Blue eyes flicker from under thick, black lashes as he continues to study the rather noteworthy Carter-Deville and Titch. Finally, nodding to himself, he moves towards the other woman. In unison, the guards move alongside; only the one holding the hand-held device was caught off-balance and ends up a pace behind.

Hunter rolls his eyes slightly and stops short of the ramp, "Thanks." He pauses for a moment and glances in the direction of the Councilor. In a sudden change of plans, he steps off to one side of the ramp, eyes fixed on the Councilor and hos group.

Voltari traces Carduus' gaze to the centauran, quirking an eyebrow when he notices it, "Hmm, that one seems to frequent Enaj every now and then", he says more to himself than to the others

Carter-DeVille takes this one moment to glance out into the street, the aristocrat to the last as she looks over most heads present without much difficulty. It's at this point that she registers the approach of Constantine and his entourage - and somewhere behind him, the hard-to-miss whirring hovertank that contains the shrivelled, elderly-looking Centauran. Between stiffening her shoulders slightly and her expression slaking down to an impassive neutral, she does nothing other than lay her hand on Titch's shoulder, the gesture almost casual. It's enough to make him look though, and what he sees he definitely isn't entirely pleased with.

Marsyn whirs in and settles by a bench not too far away from the crowd. It deactivates its hoverjets and floats within its tank, observing.

Constantine's attention is also briefly captured by Marsyn and the hovertank. More importantly, the Councilor's security guards seem less than thrilled with the presence of the other vehicle. They keep a wary eye on it and one officer appears to be murmuring into a device pinned near his collar. Still, none of the officers make any hostile gestures and since the black-clad Minister seems to give them no orders to the contrary, they continue to escort him towards the tall and impressive dark-skinned lady.

Marsyn seems to float within its now immobile hovetank, observing.

Voltari sits on a bench, idly gazing about the street

Neilson steps out into the street, heading down along the sidewalk in the direction of the hospital.

Connely walks over to Voltari. "Sorry about my hasty exit, Voltari. Business." He winks and sits down at the bench.

Carduus blatantly ignores the Centuaran, but continues to do quick sketches of people's heads as they pass.

Hunter allows his gaze to drift from the Councilor to the Centauran for a moment. He hmm's slightly as his gaze returns to the Councilor.

Said dark-skinned lady is all straight-backed poise and diva-'tude as she releases her hand from Titch's shoulder and notes, "Now, yo' relax now Titch honey. Yo' shor ain't gonna wan' Mama Lukie t'give yo' a massage later on an' yo' /know/ thet gal's gonna be wantin' t' dye yo' hair, uh-uh-/uh/." She lifts her chin and continues to watch the approach of the dark-garbed Constantine and entourage. There is something rigidly militaristic about her stance - perhaps it's just the way she holds herself, but there's that same sort of quality to even Titch as he watches and waits.

Voltari grins and nods understandingly at Connely, "It's ok"

Connely smiles and looks around. "What happened to our tall friend?"

"Good day." The words are uttered quietly, but firmly as Constantine speaks to Carter-Deville. His hands remain at his side, at rest and without the restless energy a younger, less experienced man might show. "Councilor Constantine Isherwood at your service," he says in way of an introduction. A faint smile accompanies this last phrase, even as those fiery blue eyes flicker up and down first Carter-Deville, then Titch. "I couldn't help but notice you; even on Sivad, you and your companion are a striking...couple." He says the last word as if tasting it. Another ghost of a smile.

"She had to leave", Voltari replies simply to Connely, attention drawn to the group near the escalation ramp.

Connely nods, and his attention follows Voltari's. He watches the group as well.

Up goes a pencil-fine brow; if Carter-DeVille is surprised at being addressed by so august a personnage as the Councillor himself, she gives no sign other than a gracious incline of her crew-cropped head. Another little hint in favor of a military occupation there. "Ah am honored, sir," she returns, her Southern-drawl syllables all the more pronounced, drawn out. With a quick lift of her shoulders, she stiffens into a brace that can only be called soldierly, hands dropped loosely to her sides and held there. "Trent Carter-DeVille at yo' service." Beside her, Titch too comes to what amounts to a disciplined attention, his steel-gray eyes appraising Constantine. More so the guards that flank him.

Giving Titch the respect that is due, the lead guard at Constantine's side mirrors his counterpart's appraisal. His actions are replicated three-fold as the other members of the Councilor's entourage take measure of both Titch and Carter-DeVille. "A pleasure Miss Carter-DeVille." Clipped in tone, thoughtful in manner, the Foreign Minister weighs his next words before speaking. "Are you new to Sivad?" One would imagine that someone of his position probably had a tight schedule and such random, idle conversation on the streets was an oddity at best. From the sidelong glance given him by one of his men, this sentiment seems to be echoed by his aide de camp. Instead of taking the cue, however, the black-clad man begins introductions, "Ah. The gentleman at my side, giving me the look is, Eric. And that is Lance, Michael and Stephen." Each of the men turn towards both Carter DeVille and Titch and nod as their names are sounded off.

Marbury walks down from the hovercab platform, somehow managing to carry three rather large red briefcases simultaneously -- this arrangement does rather restrict his vision, however, as he strains to watch where he is going and ducks to avoid other pedestrians.

Seeming to be bored of this crowd, Marsyn begins maniuplating its hovertank controls nimbly with its tentacles. The tank ascends a few inches, stirring up dust beneath it as it rises. It begins to float down Montevedo street, a course which would take it rather close to the black-clad Minister and entourage.

Voltari rests on a bench beside Connely, observing the group near the escalation ramp Titch's lips don't do much more than twitch at the ubiquitous Eric, then rake over Lance, Michael and Stephen respectively with the measured gaze of a soldier assessing a potential target. "Pleasure to meet you sir," is his response. Carter-DeVille, still in her straight-backed stance, casts a sapient eye over the introduced men. "Ah sway-re sir, yo' got som' raht dis'plined honey-chillun they-re. Ah commend yo'." She dips her head, a gesture that's as imperious as it is terse in the manner of a trained member of a battalion of armed forces. "Ah hope ah's not takin' up too much of yo' precious tim'. Ah knows yo' must've a lotta thangs t'tek cay-re of, uh-uh-uh lawdy. Only so many hours inna day afore th'cowpats start pilin' up, ah sway-re."

With all the grace of a circus performer... well, a bad circus performer... Marbury continues across the street, walking in the general direction of the Council Building. Somehow, he notices Constantine in the street. He executes a precarious turn, nearly losing his briefcases, and walks over in Constantine's direction.

Carduus sighs, closes his drawing pad, and stands. He quickly heads towards Independence Dome.

"I --" Whatever else Councilor Isherwood might have been interested in saying is cut-off at the approach of the hovertank and the subsequent series of actions of his guards. Two move into positions that interpose themselves between the vehicle and their ward. The other two begin to gently, but firmly guide the Minister away from the ongoing path of the hovertank. It is a somewhat subtle set of actions, that a casual observer might not notice, though it does indeed interrupt the conversation between Constantine and Carter-DeVille. It also places the black-clad Minister closer to Marbury.

Lambrick steps out of Independence Dome onto Montevedo Street. The doors whoosh shut.

Lambrick has arrived.

Carduus steps back as Lambrick walks through the doors, and waits for a beat before going through.

Hunter shakes his head slightly and moves in the direction of the Centauran, "No need to worry. Centaurans are good at many things...violence isn't one of them."

Carduus steps inside Independence Dome as the doors whoosh open.

Carduus has left.

The Centauran slows down its hovertank as it is presented with new obstacles. It strafes slowly, trying to manuever around the guards. Marsyn passes by, turning slightly to avoid the guard. It continues on its way.

Voltari turns to face Connely, "Well, I have to get going. Have a good evening, AJ.", he stands and starts to head towards the dome

Connely stands up slowly, "I was just about to leave as well. G'night, Volt."

Voltari steps inside Independence Dome as the doors whoosh open.

Voltari has left.

The bustle of a port is always intimidating, all the more to those who don't know them or are unfamiliar with the particular one they find themselves in, which is more the case for Lambrick. However, it is a controlled havoc, unlike the streets usually found beyond their doors. Thus it is the lad takes some time to accustom himself to it all, looking around at a bit of everything, and every so often casting a wary glance at the patrol bots.

Marbury grimaces as he is suddenly forced to readjust his course and position. Unfortunately, his already taxed briefcase-carrying skills are pushed past their limits by this maneuver, and three red Government briefcases tumble out of his hands and onto the ground. He closes his eyes as if trying to change reality by his sheer force of will; perhaps the papers marked "CONFIDENTIAL" now spread all over the street are the cause of his consternation.

Marsyn pauses at the commotion, radiating surprise as it sees the papers scatter. Deciding that maybe this group is worth observing, the Centauran parks its hovertank once more.

Titch, having taken his gaze off Constantine's grim-faced entourage to look at Marsyn's hovertank with some wary trepidation, is just lucky enough to glance over in Lambrick's direction. Immediately he brightens up some and lifts a hand to frantically wave him over, breaking from his stiff, soldier-stance to nudge Carter-DeVille in the elbow. "TC...it's Owaine," he notes sotto voce. Carter-DeVille, quite easily head and shoulders over most people in the street, follows her companion's gaze. The grin that quirks her lips can only be called mischievious at best, as she murmurs, "If yo'll 'scuze me, Councillor, fer a loud yell..." And then she belts out, "O-WAYNE! Where didchoo getcho'self lost to honey-chile? Ah should spank yo' fer thet!"

"Sorry sir." Eric, commander of the Councilor's security team, clears his throat as inclines his chin towards the departing hovertank. A few more words are uttered towards the black-clad Minister, but they elicit no outward response beyond a tightly controlled frown the high-ranking politician. And that frown deepens even more as Marbury is spied and the government files are spilled about the street. To his credit, however, his expression of disapproval is a fleeting thing, gone in the moment it takes him to issue the next series of orders, "Michael, Stephen, please /help/ the Second Councilor." Moving swiftly to do just that, which is to say, recover the lost files, none of the entourage are bothered by Carter-DeVille's exclamation.

Marbury races to snatch up his papers. It is an uphill battle, as the wind seems to have taken a sadistic interest in his dilema and is doing whatever it can to make his task more difficult. He notices the hovertank and is briefly, but very vaguely, disturbed by its presence, but the more pressing problem of leaking the secrets of a nation soon consume all of his attention.

Hunter chuckles slightly as he pauses next to Marsyn, "So, you do get off the Sanctuary."

Sensing Marbury's distressed, at least in regards to the papers, the Centauran seems to point at some of the papers with a tentacle. The ones out the outer fringes of Marbury's reach seem to return to him on their own initiative.

Marsyn sends to Hunter distractedly, ~Yes.~

Hunter heh's, "And here I thought you were all work and no play."

Marbury stands still for a moment, watching the papers come back to him.

He doesn't seem entirely sure of what is happening, until he remembers the Centauran in the hovertank. Great -- government documents being recovered for the Second Councilor by a foreign national. He turns to the Centauran, smiles weakly and waves. "Thanks," he says.

Marsyn reaches down to switch on its vocalizer with a tentacle. "You are welcome." For Hunter it offers no response for the moment.

Not very novel that such a shout would catch Lambrick's attention, and it doesn't take long for him to spot the pair of his companions in the crowd. Smiling wryly he makes his way towards them, sparing his words till he's within a more reasonable distance for conversation. "How could I get lost in that place?" he retorts to TC. "I was doing nothing more than walking around inside it. You two are the ones who left without me." Constantine and his guards are given a passing look, presumed to have nothing to do with his mates. "Rather busy place, isn't it?"

Marbury quickly stuffs the recovered papers into one of the red briefcases, and takes another searching look around the street to make sure that there are no further papers deposited there. Satisfied that there are not, he walks back in the direction of Constantine, standing a respectful distance away.

Carter-DeVille snorts as a slender-fingered hand finds a place on her hip. She looks down at the slightly shorter Lambrick and notes, in pure Southern, "Yo' spect me t'know when t'drag yo' outta a moosic store an' sit purdy onna thistle patch, Laird? Mah lan'sakes ah jus' bout hed a /heifer/ when ah saw yo's wasn't they-re no more honey chile! Now then...ah's got someone fer yo' t'meet." Titch meanwhile is trying rather hard not to goggle at Marsyn in the hover tank - little exposure to foreign nationals who are glassine, jelly-fish like creatures, definitely. His tall aristocratic female companion however is distracted by other things and so doesn't really notice the Centauran much at this point. Or if she does, she's doing the polite thing and not staring. "Owaine, may ah introduce yo' t'Councillor Cons-tan-teen Ee-sher-wood. An' thet they-re honey wit' th'papers is Eric...an' Lance wit' th'red hay-re an' Michael they-re by him...an' Stephen." She waves an airy hand gesturing at each of Constantine's security detail in turn.

Marsyn notices Titch's attention on it, sending a vibe of greeting.

Balancing his attention between Carter-Deville and her own 'entourage' and the Second Councilor and his wayward papers, it seems difficult to gauge which interests Constantine more. Finally, however, he turns to address Marbury, even as the last of the files are recovered by the security team from the Office of Foreign Affairs. "Second Councilor. A pleasure." The tone in which he delivers this greeting is respectful, yet tainted with something else. His bearing is one of an equal addressing an equal. A long glance is shared between the two Councilors. However, as Carter-DeVille addresses him once more, he cants his head and pivots his body accordingly. "A pleasure, I am sure," he murmurs in the clipped tones so often heard in official broadcasts. "May I introduce Second Councilor Wallace Marbury." His blue eyes flicker over Lambrick's face and frame, before sliding sidelong to his own companion in the Council of Equals. Once more, the security officers take their place at the side of their charge. Their own study of the new individual is intense; they give him the scrutiny one would expect from trained military men.

Marbury smiles in the direction of Constantine's conversation partners, and shrugs a little apologetically as he tries to think of a way to extend a hand without dropping all his briefcases. "Good evening," he says, confidently...and yet, there is a nervous energy behind his voice that seems always to be there.

The Centauran's wanderlust tugs at it again, causing it to fire up its hoverjets and drift away without prelude.

"That's why you pay attention, TC," Owaine smiles at his friend, sympathetic to her plight and touched by her concern. "But don't worry, I'll make sure to keep a better eye on both of you as well." With the introductions he turns towards the assembled clue, eyebrows climbing upwards with surprise to discover this entire group of folks are currently attached to TC and Titch. "Oh." A brief wave of greeting to the individually named men, then a bow of his head towards Constantine. "Good evening, sir," he greets the man, nodding then towards Marbury as he's included, adding another, "Sir. Owaine Lambrick." A short but effective introduction.

"Mr. Lambrick," repeats Marbury as he nods respectfully, committing the name to memory with the skill of an experienced politician.

Hunter hmm's slightly as he tilts his next to one side, then to the other, "This is bloody worse than a Senate meeting."

Titch rolls his eyes a little as he mouths, "Black Beauty!" from the corner of his mouth. This results in him getting punched lightly but effectively by Carter-DeVille. Short range, a brief flick of wrist movement but it hurts enough certainly as evidenced by the victim's wrinkled nose. She then gives Lambrick a chuckle and notes, "Honey, ah's easy t'keep an eye on, ah's a flowerin' jee-raf an' yo' know it. Now c'mon hey-re an' stan' by me afore ah's get lonely." A chuckle as she turns towards Constantine, then to the newly introduced Marbury. "Councillor Marbury, ah's glad t'meetcho'. Ah shor hope yo' git thet lock on yo' briefcase changed, uh-uh-/uh/. Hot glue-guns work wonders, ah declay-re."

Hunter shakes his head slightly and heads towards the Independence Dome.

Marbury stares at Cartier-DeVille for a long moment, a blank expression on his face as he attempts to decipher the accent. After a long moment, he finally replies with a tentative "thank you."

Whatever thoughts might be passing through Constantine's head are pushed away as the scene plays out between Titch and Carter-DeVille. A nod is given in acknowledgement to Lambrick, with a 'Sir', added on for good measure, but his focus is obviously on the original 'pair' he was conversing with. The black-clad Minister can't help but smile and that smile grows by degrees as Carter-DeVille gives her heavily accented piece of advice to the Second Councilor. "Miss Carter-DeVille, you do have the most unique accent. May I ask where you are from?" Straight as a rod, Eric, Lance, Stephen and Michael maintain their positions, with only one of them looking less than thrilled at the time spent in idle discussion.

Lambrick falls easily to silence, quite readily becoming the so-called proverbial third wheel. He keeps an eye on the goings on, mostly in case something should come up and he be included with some gesture or a look that he'd otherwise miss, but for all that his attention wanders around to take in what there is to be seen. "Not really as bad as Mumbai," he murmurs to himself, nearly under his breath.

"Ah's frem Spanish Town, Jamaica, but ah's been brought up Southern fer a loooong tim', sir," comes the tall honey-espresso skinned woman's response. Titch meanwhile bumps Lambrick with an elbow and leans over to murmur something to him, a sudden spark of wicked humor dancing in his steel-gray eyes. Carter-DeVille arcs that perpetually aristocratic pencil-fine brow and glances down at both her companions somewhat askance, breaking off her answer to note sagely, "If yo's thinkin' of short-sheetin' th'bed 'gain, ah's askin' yo' t'reconsider or ah's gonna put squishy apples in yo's toilet seat." Coming from such a ramrod straight personnage, the comment is as irreverant as it is rather surprising. But there is mischief lurking in the back of her dark eyes despite the solemnity with which the pronouncement is uttered.

Marbury leans over to say something to Constantine quietly. He whispers to Constantine: "May I speak with you for a moment?"

It isn't entirely in Lambrick's nature to snort, so he lets loose with the quiet exclamation, "Ha!" All for Titch. He replies as quietly to the man, only thereafter frowning in slight confusion at TC. "Short sheeting the bed?" A phrase or a deed he is not familiar with, clearly. Rather than draw the woman's attention away from her conversation he aims a questioning look back at Titch. Explain that one, boy.

"Ah. I see," mouths Constantine, and his response does not to remove the smile from his lips. And when Titch, Carter-DeVille and Lambrick continue with their antics, that smile breaks out into a full laugh. It is a pleasant sound, restrained somewhat by the nature of the man it comes from, yet still full of humor. "Miss Carter-DeVille, you and your companions are quite the group. I --" Once more, the black-clad Minister is cut-off. This time, it is to listen to the remarks whispered into his ear by the Second Councilor. Cutting a sharp nod, he leans slightly to the side so as to murmur a response. Then, straightening himself out, he turns his gaze back towards Carter-DeVille, Titch and Lambrick. "If you will excuse me, there is some business the Second Councilor and I must attend to. However..." He trails off for a moment as he gives the foreign nationalists a thoughtful look, "...I would be honored if you called upon me at a later time. Or gave me some way of doing so?" A slightly raised hand cuts off the unspoken protest from Stephen, who hovers close to his elbow.

Constantine whispers, "Of course, Second Councilor." to Marbury.

Marbury nods slightly to Constantine. He smiles and bows slightly to Carter-DeVille et al (no small feat given the briefcases,) and walks off to a more secluded spot on the street, waiting patiently for the Councilor to complete his business with the foreigner with the funny accent. He sets the briefcases down at his feet, keeping careful watch over them.

"S'what y'do to make sheets shorter so they're deuced uncomfy, Owaine,"

Titch explains with a grimace. "Remember how we pulled that little trick with Colehatch when he started getting snooty about the bathwater? And yes I just got paid so /nyah/." He almost pokes his tongue out at Lambrick in a boyishly immature gesture - quite comical really, considering how rigid he's standing. Carter-DeVille, having rolled her eyes and made a pithily-deserved limp-wrist at Titch, now turns her attention back to Constantine again. "Ah don't know thet'cho ain't gonna regret askin' us t'come visit, sir but ah b'lieve it would be an honor. Ah reckon's gonna hev t'depend on our leave since th'forces don't work on th'same holidays as th'civvies do, uh-uh-uh. Whatcho' think, O-wayne honey? Titch ah ain't askin' yo' since yo's jus' gonna give me th'same answer as yo' did last tim' - food an' all's set." A snort, then a chuckle as she rests her hand on Lambrick's shoulder.

Eh? That's the thought that pops into Lambrick's mind first at Constantine's words, a reflex followed by the more usual and intelligent rush of mental noise. "Of course, sir," he nods. Clearly no permission needs to be given, so these would be parting words. A questioning look is then passed on to TC and Titch, these two being the ones who had spent any amount of time talking to this Councilor, so he by definition assumes the question is for them.

"As you will, Miss Carter-DeVille. I am sure you are a lady with numerous skills; it should be no difficulty for you, as well as your talented friends..." And with this, Constantine raises his right hand and in a sweeping gesture, motions towards both Titch and Lambrick, "...to find a way to come and visit me, sometime. Simply call the Office of Foreign Affairs." A long pause. "I will make time." Eric, Lance and Michael keep a straight face; Stephen, on the otherhand, gives the black-clad Minister a /look/ and it is significant in its intensity. Still, not a word is spoken. "It was indeed a true pleasure." Those are the last words uttered by the Councilor as he bows slightly, from the waist, to the assembled foreign nationalists. And then, slowly, carefully and with measured steps, he joins Marbury at his location. "Shall we, Second Councilor?" He nods towards the Council building.

"Well, yes, finding the time is always tricky, and this certainly isn't an excursion to make every day," Lambrick adds in agreement. After all, hopping from planet to planet tends to burn big holes in one's pockets if not careful, and as everyone knows, soldiers don't pull down the big paychecks. "An open invitation from some Councilor? You do have a way with people," is put in after Constantine leaves, a bit of a smirk worn upon the lad's lips.

The Secound Councilor looks over his shoulder in the direction of the Council building, and shakes his head. "It's, uh, really not that important," says Marbury, scratching behind his ear, "It's just that I visited the Home Office today, and my old secretary informed me of an interesting rumour..."

Clearing his throat, Constantine murmurs something quietly towards Marbury. He has left the others behind and while not a second glance is spared at them, perhaps some lingering thoughts are devoted. Constantine whispers, "Councilor Marbury, I would recommend we talk in private. If only because I had something I wished to discuss with you as well." to Marbury.

Now /that/ effectively silences Titch. He swallows a couple of times, blinking before realising that having his jaw at such a near-yawp is exceptionally undisciplined and impolite and shuts his trap. Quickly. Carter-DeVille herself is stunned into unusual immobility as she stares after the departing Constantine and entourage. Five long seconds elapse before she exhales a sharp, "Mah /lan'sakes an' churnin' heifer butter/. Foreign /Office/? Oh lawdy lawdy, an' don't tease me O-wayne chile, ah didn't /know/ th'man was somethin' high-up an' starchy!" A slight flush bridles her cheeks as she chuckles and shakes her head. "Oh mah lawd."

Grainer steps out of the Dome, hands held behind his back as he walks.

Marbury checks his watch as inconspicuously as possible, and sighs for just a moment as he thinks of how nice it would be to be at home right now. He nods to Constantine absently and picks up his briefcases carefully, and he gestures for Constantine to lead the way.

Assembled in a defensive perimeter, the security troops of the Office of Foreign Affairs fall into place around Constantine and lead the entourage towards the Council building. While they do appear to be watching over Marbury as well, there is a subtle interplay between the officers and the Second Councilor, not easily readable from an outsider's perspective. And since the group departs in short order, there is little chance to inspect them in length.

Lobby 

The lobby of the Sivad council building is airy and brightly lit. At the south end of the building four sets of double doors lead out onto the street, while to the north a massive single set of doors, nearly two stories high, lead into the Chamber of Equals. Running down the room about 1/3 of the way from the walls are two sets of pillars from which hang the banners of the island-states of Sivad, culminating in the banner of Independent Sivad, which hangs over the door to the main chamber giving the room an almost cathedral like effect.

This room is always populated as meetings of the Council can go on late into the night, and at the very least someone will be manning the visitors desk by the entrance. Guards stand at the entrance to both the Chamber of Equals, and the doors to the street, although their purpose is almost entirely ceremonial. Hidden behind the pillars are the doors leading to the offices of the twenty five council members, along with entrances to their lounge and the various government offices that make their home here in the council building.

Marbury arrives from Montevedo Street .

Marbury has arrived.

Councilors Lounge 

The councilors lounge is a large, well appointed room with plush red carpet and wood paneled walls. In the north and west walls, large windows that overlook the ocean beyond. Scattered around the rooms are confortable chairs and sofas, far more than are needed for 25 people. Against the south wall is a complete wet bar, and finally set against the east wall are a number of bookshelves containing Sivadian classics.

Marbury arrives from Lobby .

Marbury has arrived.

Not waiting for you to seat yourself first, Constantine takes a seat now that the group is out of the public eye. He has always been a hard-case; one who dominates those of weaker personalities around him. "Wallace, why were you travelling outside without guards and an aide?" He shakes his head, tightly, as he mutters, "It gives a bad impression. And makes you vulnerable. You are the second highest ranking member of our government." He adds, mildly but with meaning. "Technically."

Marbury sets his red briefcases on a table near the door, considers them for a moment, and then turns around. "I sent them home," he says simply. "Just because I stay up all hours of the night working doesn't mean they have to." He smiles a rare sort of smile as a thought comes to him, and with the barely concealed glee of someone scoring a point, he says, "Besides, I don't need an entourage to accent my importance. I don't think it makes me vulernable; it makes me approachable."

Exhaling softly, Constantine simply responds, "Wallace, after Athena, you hold the most influence in our party." The way in which the Foreign Minister speaks these words denotes his lack of belief in his own statement. "And you are Second Councilor. There are many individuals, governments and factions who would like to strike at us. You must take precautions." He adds, after a moment, "If you want to be more approachable, then host 'town meetings'. Or something along those lines." He points his forefinger at you. "But you can't simply wander around without security." In kinder tones, your fellow Councilor speaks quietly, "I'm saying this for your own welfare. And the welfare of the party."

Scratching behind his ear once again, Marbury seems rather dubious of your concern for his welfare. "Thank you for your concern, Constantine," he says, a little coolly as if the advice was being filed under "Ignored." "Was that what you wanted to talk to me about?" he queries with a tone that is a little bit too cordial.

Sighing a little, Constantine responds, "That was it, Wallace. I would like you to keep your security detail with you at all times. For your own safety. And for public image, if nothing else. You are a reflection of our party. Our government. Of Sivad. What you do reflects on /all/ of us. You must be strong, for if you are weak, Sivad will look weak." Shaking his head again, he prompts, "Anyway, what was on your mind?"

Marbury doesn't seem so sure he wants to tell Constantine anymore. He seems about to say something in reply to Constantine's rebuke -- something verging on the angry, which is a difficult line to cross with Marbury -- but something, quite possibly exhaustion, renders him unwilling to start an argument. "As I was saying, I heard a rumour today, Constantine. I found it a little difficult to believe but frankly, the source has rarely been wrong," he says after a long moment.

"I am listening, Wallace." Gentling his voice, Constantine falls into a more demure role. He brushes his hand across his lap, so as to flick some dust off of it, as he murmurs, "Please go on." His entire demeanor changes; he has spoken his mind on the issue of the guards. Now he relents.

"Apparently," says Marbury slowly, "Our First Councilor will soon step down to take a post in some QUANGO or at a university somewhere. My friend didn't know exactly when, but his sense was that it would be soon-- very soon. Have you heard anything about this?" Marbury considers you thoughtfully as he asks this final question, not merely listening for the response but gauging your reaction.

"I see." It is difficult to gauge Constantine's true reaction to this news, for he takes his time in giving any solid response. And with the practiced care of decades in the political arena, he keeps his expression entirely neutral. "No. I had not heard. I would have brought it to your attention, if I had." He says slowly, "Thank you for telling me, however." A long pause. "Where do you think this will leave the party and government?"

Marbury muses on this question. "That's a good question," he replies. "Athena has very strong support, as you know," he points out.

"As do you and I. The two of us are her natural successors. However, since you are higher placed in the party than I, I look to your guidance for what we will do from here." Constantine says slowly, "I do not see Athena's departure as changing the influence of our party; we will continue to be strong with or without her." He adds, after a moment, "However, it may very well change the dynamics of the internal structure of the party."

A frown crosses Marbury's face at your suggestion. "It may. Of course, I will hold a leadership review soon after she announces her resignation, if she does. It's the right thing to do. I suppose you'll run," he says, with a lightness that belies his actual feelings on the matter, "I may; I haven't decided."

"I will do what I think is best for the party," responds Constantine with a polite smile. "And I look, as we all do, towards your leadership. I am sure you will also do what is best for the party." He clears his throat and murmurs, "We will, of course, maintain all the proper protocals."

Marbury smiles tightly to Constantine, "Of course." He looks off in the direction of the red briefcases. "In any event, I still have those briefcases to work my way through... geez, how many did you get tonight?"

"Too many," admits Constantine. He clucks his tongue, ruefully, as he murmurs, "I've got a lot to look over. It'll be a busy night." He adds, after a moment, "As always."

Marbury smiles. "Wait until you're second councilor." He leaves these words to hang in the air. They were delivered with such levity, so why do they seem like an ominous warning? He waves to the other councilor. "Good night, Constantine." He picks up his briefcases and walks out of the lounge toward his office.

Marbury heads into Lobby .

Marbury has left.