Logs:Conference

Conference
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt, Winona
In Absentia Elie	2024-11-27 "It's about time you stop pretending to be a player and stick to the board. At least until you learn something from a master."
Location <NYC> Conference Room - Javits Center - Hudson Yards
This mammoth convention center with its iconic glass and space frame architecture spans several blocks along the Hudson waterfront. The vast majority of its spaces are given over to host a massive commercial conference at present, but as usual the leavings can be rented at a massive discount for events willing to fit themselves in around the industry giants and those who have come to court their billions. That's how the Native American Heritage Festival was able to afford this enviable venue, though any number of its organizers or attendees may have since regretted that decision, given their discount comes courtesy of the International Pipelines Conference. It's possible if not easy to forget that inside this modest conference room: a bland, sterile space with a stage up front and state-of-the-art AV equipment. The event has just ended after having run longer than expected, but still within the timeframe that the organizers had allowed for, with Winona now speaking to one of the other panelists who attempted to talk over her the least. "Thanks, Dr. Gross," she says, having taken the professor's business card and slipping it into a pocket on her bag, "Looking forward to getting that intro to your colleague.". She's wearing black slacks, a wine coloured button-up and a loose black blazer, which contrasts with her button-laden canvas messenger bag. Her polite smile fades a bit after she shakes his hand and turns to start down the central aisle, but returns a moment later when she gives a wide wave to someone she recognizes. Lucien is answering the wide wave with a very sedate tip of his head, though to those familiar, the small crinkle of his eyes is quite warm. He is weaving against the tide of the departing crowd, understated in a neat grey suit in clean lines. "Tous mes compliments, you were very engaging." His voice is dry, as he reaches Winona's side, though there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "And weren't we so lucky to have those experts in the room who could help us discover other Native voices as well." Winona puts her hand to her chest and bows her head in a way that suggests a showman's grace. "Thank you. I, unfortunately, only have my own experiences to offer. There are others, who have read about those experiences, who naturally have more insight." The way her voice goes low and conspiratorial suggests she wants to avoid the sarcasm dripping from her voice to land in too many ears. "Thanks for coming. It's always good to have a familiar face out there." "When you experience a thing you're clouded, non?" Lucien touches his fingertips to his chest, his eyes opening with a wider feigned guilelessness. "-- sitting here from the pure objective view, well -- oh, goodness, I almost feel I'm ready to give the next panel myself. Do you think I'd look good with rainbow hair?" He drops his hand and the exaggerated expression both. "I am quite glad I did, truly. Not just for your sake -- I learned quite a lot." The crowd has thinned out, and most of the lingering attendees are clustered around the other panelists, though a few knots have gathered under their own gravity to critique what they've just heard. And then there's Matt. He had been leaning against the wall, dressed in a camel sports coat over a seafoam green dress shirt, top button undone, and charcoal slacks, but now he's making his way across the room to Winona and Lucien. "Parley," he says, low and even, when he stops just out of Lucien's easy reach. He tips his head at Winona, "And bravo. Your insights were as clever as they were illuminating." "I think you could pull off rainbow hair, but it'd be pretty weird to see you like that. Though, I guess seeing you as a faun is weirder..." A tension enters Winona's shoulders when she hears Matt's voice, and her expression turns to one of practiced neutrality. "Thank you. I'm glad you got something out of it," she says flatly, "I guess you must be here because you heard I'd be speaking, and you were eager to learn." "You can get used to just about anything. The hooves eventually started to feel second nature." The intricate clockwork of Lucien's mind is tensing, tightening, at the sound of Matt's voice. His expression does not shift as he turns, just slightly, angling towards his brother. "I dearly hope you are just here to edify yourself about Lakota history." "Alas, the history was incidental -- but earnestly appreciated nevertheless." Matt almost smiles, but does not, his expression lapsing back into studied neutrality. "I am in fact here to parley. I doubt you'd have been eager to speak with me under any circumstance whatsoever, but." His lips compress, and his eyes flit to Lucien's briefly. "You were right about her. Again." There's no suggestion of annoyance or reluctance in this, but there is a tightness in his previously placid tone. "And I think we may have at least one goal in alignment, now." Winona furrows her eyebrows and bites at her lip thoughtfully. "I think not being eager to speak to you is understandable, given the--" Her eyes flit from Matt and then over to Lucien, "The circumstances. I'm not sure why mommy's bestest boy--" She pauses, closes her mouth and seems to realize she should have cut her normally careful words off earlier, so she can only commit. "Might be coming around when it comes to goals." Lucien hitches one eyebrow up. His eyes have slipped sidelong to meet Winona's. "Darling, I'm afraid you will have to be a bit more specific, I have been right about a good many things when it comes to her and I cannot begin to fathom what goals you think we share these days. You are correct, though." His hand turns up, his head inclining slight. "I am not eager." When he drops his hand, his weight shifts back, his voice dropping lower -- "My apologies," is directed, a little softer at Winona, though not so soft Matt cannot hear it, "I had come to ask if you would perhaps like some dinner after that wonderful presentation, I did not expect my family drama to follow us here of all places." Matt draws a breath, slow and deep, and that twitch of his jaw doesn't get any further. "She needs to go." He sounds bland and matter-of-fact about this. "I suspect you've a decent chance to pull it off." The hesitation here is infinitesimal but pained, but his flat expression doesn't much change. "You'll have a better one with...mommy's bestest boy in your arsenal." Winona smiles mirthlessly and says, "I would love to get some dinner. And... your family drama has unfortunately taken up more of my brain space than anything lately. So..." She frowns tightly and looks towards Matt, as if evaluating him. "I would like for it to end. But--" She looks like she wants to say more, but instead gives Lucien a conspiratorial look that implies that she thinks Matt's a mushroom man. "My Court are some of the most competent I've been blessed to work with while yours -- unleashed a war beneath your nose." Lucien tips his hand up, fingers uncurling in Matt's direction. His eyes fix steadily on his brother, brows ticking up, curious. "... and you did kill me, the once. It's no difficult guess we want her out. Why do you suppose we'd be better off with your dubious assistance?" Matt meets his brother's gaze. "You've many causes to doubt me, but I expect you trust in my megalomania." There's something weary in his impassive tone. "And she humiliated me -- in front of my entire Court." He cocks his head very slightly to one side. "Mother is canny, but her devotion to me is as predictable as it is unreasoning. There are many ways to use that kind of obsession -- for leverage, for access, for feinting." Winona crosses her arms and continues to measure Matt with her stare. She simply does not respond, instead waiting to see how Lucien reacts. "I trust very little of you, right now." Lucien's reply is prompt, and somewhat dismissive. There is a hesitation after this, his eyes lowering to the ground, before he allows a touch more stiffly: "She does have a weakness, in you." His lips compress, and he pulls in a slow breath. His eyes lift back to Winona. Grudgingly, his head tips toward Matt. "It might be exploitable." "You risk much contending with her at all," Matt points out. "Working with me is a far lesser risk, if you think me so very incompetent. But remember: she loathes you as much as she loves me, and fears your influence. She would not risk setting me against you personally again. That's why she hid your assassination from me." He turns one hand up, the gesture subtly reminiscent of weighing something invisible in his palm. "It would destroy her to think you have suborned me, but if you will not trust my stratagems..." This is as much to his brother as to Winona. "...then devise your own. So long as we take her down." Winona stares a few moments and then gives a tense shrug. "The only way I can trust you is if you take the moves you're told. No questions asked. 'cause so far, for any power you've seized, you've hamstrung anyone who can help you and only helped those keeping you blind." She raises her hands in resignation, then jerks her head towards the exit. "It's up to Lucien in the end, but if it were up to me, it's about time you stop pretending to be a player and stick to the board. At least until you learn something from a master." As Matt speaks there's a twinge that ripples across Lucien's previously impassive expression -- briefly but quite distinctly hurt. It's just a fleeting instant, and then it smooths back into a perfectly unruffled neutrality -- outwardly, anyway, though in the tumult of Lucien's mind this takes longer. It does subside, though, eventually, fading to a distinct amusement. "Mmm." There's something hard in the small twitch of his mouth. "Did you hear that? We ought to devise some stratagems. I really don't know why we hadn't thought of that." He's scuffing the backs of his knuckles, now, verrry thoughtful, against the side of his jaw, and it's very much Winona he is talking to as he starts to walk, unhurried, away. "I'm sure we could find some use for another pawn, even if we have to train up a somewhat incompetent one. -- are you hungry?" It's almost an afterthought that he's tossing over his shoulder -- "I do still have your number. We'll be in touch."