"That was an exquisite performance, Vance. You've a surprising knack for showmanship," Vincent stated approvingly as he and his zoroark strode across the above-stage catwalks. He received a self-satisfied grin from the fox, and after a moment of thought, decided to return the gesture with a grin of his own. Although Vance couldn't speak, the two of them understood each other all too well. They each possessed a great deal of respect for the other's ability to deceive, and it was always a pleasure to show off in front of the sort of company that could truly appreciate a well-crafted falsehood.<br/><br/>"I suppose this means it's my turn now, hm?"<br/><br/>Vance nodded eagerly at him.<br/><br/>"A few of Geralt's friends have disappeared recently, and<span style="font-style: italic">our</span>friends have started refusing to see him. The change has not gone unnoticed; he may be a fool, but he's a perceptive one to be sure. Still, I may have overestimated him. I was expecting him to surround himself with 'reliable' company once he caught on, but it's been four days and he's still looking for clues."<br/><br/>He let out a sigh and retrieved a small key from one of his pant pockets. The two of them had arrived at a rather unassuming door that lay past the rigging and out of sight from the stage, which Vincent unlocked and opened with far more ceremony than it seemed to warrant. In truth, it was something of a "hidden" entrance to his lavish personal quarters within the club, built during the building's construction to connect it to the backstage area for ease of access. While it was concealed only by virtue of being out of the way and perpetually locked, it still allowed the club's leader to skulk around his own property without being easily seen moving from place to place, thus further reinforcing his reputation as some kind of trickster spirit.<br/><br/>Vincent hoped that he would never need to use it for anything more serious. He preferred to keep his two lives separate.<br/><br/>"...It would have been cleaner to have his own guards deal with him somewhere private, but I suppose it's too late to worry about appearances now that I've already sent the men out looking for him. We should head home before some idiot decides to bring that business here. Are you ready to leave?"<br/><br/>A quick glance revealed that Vance was gone, and in his place stood a middle-aged man of nondescript features wearing a dark gray overcoat and matching hat. Vincent recognized it, to the extent that it was possible to recognize such an unexceptional appearance, as the usual mask that his pokémon wore when they were trying to pass him off as one of the family's trigger-men.<br/><br/>"No, no... that won't do at all," he said, shaking his head. "Even if we<span style="font-style: italic">are</span>expecting trouble tonight, we don't want to give the impression that something is wrong. You're going to leave this place looking like someone worth my time."<br/><br/>For the briefest instant, the man's image flickered like a shifting mirror before changing completely into that of someone else. He was taller, more handsome, and most importantly, wearing a pressed black suit and tie just like Vincent himself.<br/><br/>"Much better. Now, let's be off."<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://www.seventh-house.org/wp-content/themes/naota/images/NavDivider3.png">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/>Compared to the countless other comforts that Vincent surrounded himself with, his house was a rather surprising disappointment. It was large, yes, and the man whom he had purchased it from had seen fit to remind him of this detail no less than seventeen times during the sales pitch, but aside from its size and close proximity to the downtown area, it possessed few merits. The place had electricity, a heating system, and more bathrooms and bedrooms than he could personally make use of - things which may have been impressive to a working-class man thirty years ago - yet absolutely none of the charm or privacy that he had grown accustomed to. At best, it was located in a quiet neighborhood where people rarely paid any mind to their neighbors' businesses, and it was only a short walk away from the city proper.<br/><br/>As his chauffeur pulled up to the house's double-width driveway, its sheer lack of appreciable qualities struck Vincent as they always did when he viewed it from the outside. Elena had worked tirelessly to make the interior presentable, and he could at least forget about how much he hated the place when he was viewing it one well-decorated room at a time, but to see entire thing from the perspective of those he worked with simply caused him to question just how much of their respect for him had come from his father. Ever since he had lost his old home, he had been a prince living in a detestable wooden shack.<br/><br/>He'd have his crown soon enough, though, and he already knew exactly where the coronation would take place.<br/><br/>"You're free to retire for the night," he said to his driver after he and Vance had exited the vehicle. "If anything happens, I'm sure I can manage with the Bentley."<br/><br/>The man nodded obediently and drove his vehicle back onto the street while Vincent and his partner approached the thick wooden door of the house. He waited only a moment to listen for any sounds of activity from within before opening aperture, certain that nobody inside was preparing to do so for him. It was proving to be a difficult habit to break.<br/><br/>"Elena?" Vincent cried out into the silence of his home. "Has anyone called that I need concern myself with?"<br/><br/>"There was a gentleman - perhaps a lady," answered an immaculately proper voice from somewhere within, "who saw fit to leave a frightful decree of silence. Otherwise, wholly drudgery."<br/><br/>The voice drew nearer as Vincent exchanged pairs of shoes, preceded by a small liligant with curious purple petals. The little creature slid to a halt, a steel sewing needle clutched in its hands, to gaze expectantly up at him. A second pair of sharp grey-green eyes glowered at him moodily from the hall as he turned to enter.<br/><br/>"Entertain me," she pleaded.<br/><br/>Elena was a porcelain doll given life. Pale of skin and slight of build, her hair cut a jarring contrast to the unlit entryway; a deep red bob which curled stubbornly upwards at the ends, tastefully ornamented by a pair of black ribbons. She wore a pinafore dress of the same colour over a fanciful white blouse, both embroidered with the Morris family crest.<br/><br/>Like a mannequin, her very being exuded an air of wintry disdain. Tending to Vincent's esteemed wooden shack rarely agreed with her pride - a stewardess of a hovel was no stewardess at all.<br/><br/>"Hmm... and what sort of trick would my dearest housekeeper prefer? An amusing story? Some sleight of hand? Perhaps a game of chance?" he chuckled, revealing himself to be in surprisingly good spirits. "Ah! I know. How about a<span style="font-style: italic">promise</span>?"<br/><br/>Elena crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, though her face belied the extent of her intrigue. "This won't involve a wedding ring, retirement plans laid with great pains, and an impromptu funeral, I trust?" She smiled playfully. "If you mention a retreat to some horrid resort in the tropics I believe I'll throw myself from a train."<br/><br/>"Well, if we're really going to be making a mockery of cinema, would it not suit you better to have a villain like myself bind you in ropes and leave you on the tracks instead? I..."<br/><br/>Vincent raised an eyebrow, noticing for the first time the cut-down military carbine in her hand.<br/><br/>"I think you might want to tell me what you've been doing with that before I answer."<br/><br/>"Ventilating pidove," she sighed remorsefully. "They've taken up residence under the eaves. I endeavored to murder them, but my natural charms seem lost on the unfortunate caitiffs. Before I could sing a note they all flew away."<br/><br/>The liligant gesticulated animatedly with its sewing needle, first in a broom-sweeping motion, transitioning flawlessly to a trained rifleman's stance, firing, and finally charging forward to stab the floorboards in a vicious coup-de-grace. It occurred to Vincent that the needle tip seemed... redder than usual.<br/><br/>"Save<span style="font-style: italic">one</span>," his assistant airily stated. "Perhaps a pie."<br/><br/>"Certainly not one<span style="font-style: italic">I'll</span>be eating, I hope," he answered with a scowl. "It seems my tidings have come not a moment too soon. My promise to you is this: I will be abandoning this house and its dreadful eaves both hastily and<span style="font-style: italic">permanently</span>, in no more than a few days' time. You are, of course, invited to busy yourself with packing my things and preparing the property to be sold, and when that is done... to join me in moving to my new place of residence."<br/><br/>She threw him an appraising look, eyebrows peaked with well-restrained surprise. "You're very good at keeping my respect. A quality in frightfully short supply, I confess." Elena subconsciously brushed aside a sharply-cut lock of vermilion hair. "Well done; you've my congratulations. Follow through and you just might win my adoration. Tend to it carefully or I may be driven to all manner of curious things. Sporadic levity. Bouts of happiness. Loyalty.<span style="font-style: italic">Compliments</span>. Heaven knows what strangeness might possess me."<br/><br/>"I've never met a woman more ruinously awkward at showing gratitude," Vincent interjected wryly. "Is this your way of thanking me?"<br/><br/>"No," the sharply-dressed assistant muttered, "but this is."<br/><br/>Elena gleefully threw herself into an awkward sort of hug. She meant to lift him off his feet and twirl in a circle, but only succeeded in spinning herself around behind the nonplussed criminal and ruffling his suit. There was even evidence of a laugh - one that sounded suspiciously like 'Liberation!'. Her brow knitted awkwardly, the crimson-haired assistant immediately straightened and busied herself with readjusting his bowtie, never once breaking stride.<br/><br/>"A shame. You've really no talent for eating crow, pastry or otherwise. If you fail now you'll be in quite a state."<br/><br/>"If I fail now," Vincent remarked with more sincerity than his words alone suggested, "even the company of frigid women could not make this house feel welcoming. I'll be at my desk, perhaps even until morning. Bring Vance and I something to eat when you can find the time, please... and I won't forgive you if it tastes of feathers."<br/><br/>He put a friendly hand on Elena's shoulder as he passed by her and headed for the stairs. Once he had climbed them, however, his disposition became more serious and he began to address his partner instead.<br/><br/>"If ever there was a night to be wary of silent phone-calls, this would be it. Stay alert and be prepared to disappear on a moment's notice."