Devon stood at the door of the Dining Room that led into the hallway. Against his wary concern, he'd made a formal inquiry to the public relations team of Jaager Worldwide about their support of the Utopia committee. He was hoping to learn and hear more. They'd been only too kind to put him in contact with a presentation scheduling assistant. Devon wasn't interested; he didn't feel it was the right course of action. But he wanted to know more about it and of course, some of the people at Sanctuary wanted to know more about it.

The biggest surprise was Ambrose Jaager himself. Devon had been surprised to see his name on the speaking itinerary as a special guest before others would take their time at explaining the purpose, the approach, the travel, the identification, the first laws, the domicile set up... They'd thought of everything it seemed and Devon still wondered why.

They'd done their best to clean things up. Everyone had dressed in their best that they had, which included Devon in a tie-less charcoal button down and black suit. There were refreshments too. JW had sent over some complimentary materials and even some quality foodstuffs. Their public relations team did not fool around. Devon hoped at the very least he could get them to donate more.

Yet there was also the curious wonder if this man knew about the Order or was part of it. What did he want? Was he so big on charity that he had decided to come down here? The man was loaded and had no need; it wasn't his committee after all. Devon's blue eyes stared intently upon the man as he spoke. He wasn't smiling but he also was sure to keep his mouth in a relatively neutral line.

Hopefully they'd have a chance to talk before the CEO would skitter off to his manse, wherever it may be.

Ambrose Jaager stood at a podium in front of all of Sanctuary's occupants and wondered how exactly he'd gotten there.

It'd been his idea, of course, to come. He'd heard rumors about somebody trying to get Sanctuary up and running again - and considering how hard he'd worked to shut the Order down the first time (the META bot attack while Aura was there was satisfying, but nowhere near as fun as watching Faust get ruined was), he wasn't looking forward to having all of his progress shut down so quickly. And this Tempest guy seemed keen on doing that. Of course, there was no guarantee the man even knew what the Order was - from what Ambrose had learned, he was from out of town and had decided to help out at the Sanctuary immediately upon arrival - but if that wasn't suspicious, Ambrose didn't know what was.

Either way, he wasn't going to risk it. He'd been planning non-suspicious ways to get into Sanctuary for a while now, but there weren't that many, so he'd been almost glad to hear that Sanctuary had requested an informational session of sorts about Utopia. He'd immediately inserted himself as a guest speaker - a special guest speaker, thank you very much - and that was why he was delivering a speech about why Utopia was important to him with as much aplomb as was appropriate.

Someone was staring at him, from the audience. Most of Sanctuary's occupants were looking up at him with wonder in their eyes - amazement, no doubt, that they might not have to be scared of humans for once, and that he was providing such a safe haven. But one person caught Ambrose's eye - someone staring very deliberately at him in a way that definitely was not wonderment, and actually might have been perturbed. About what, Ambrose didn't know, but he suspected it was because of his presence.

He finished up the speech, having recited the same lines he'd been giving at similar JW-sponsored events about Utopia. He'd said them so often at this point that he didn't even have to think as he spoke - all he had to do was enunciate the right things and the right time and look suitably somber at other points. Easy.

"And now, it's my pleasure to introduce Commander Cail Rendfur, who will be speaking to you about..." Shoot. What was it? "Utopia's execution," he finished smoothly, not a single noticeable break as he spoke. That was... general, yes, and the double meaning was palpable, but he didn't think the Sanctuary's occupants would care. They looked too excited at the prospect of a safe haven, whispering among themselves, as Ambrose and Cail switched places at the podium.

As Cail started speaking about who-knows-what, Ambrose stepped out of the dining room through a doorway, out into the empty hall. Only Romeo was here today, and the bodyguard swept neatly through the door behind Ambrose. Remy was on yet another mission, but Ambrose sort of let him do his own thing at this point, because clearly the man knew what he was doing. And really, Ambrose didn't need a bodyguard, but it was nice to have someone with a more immediately intimidating mutation nearby. Also, Madeline had informed him of the rumors that he was having sex with one or both of the Carr twins, as they were publicly known to anyone who checked, and Ambrose wasn't going to go out of his way to discourage those rumors. (Romeo didn't know, and it was frankly hilarious to see his suspicious narrowing of eyebrows when random people on the street started to giggle and point at him almost as much as they did it to Ambrose.)

But because Romeo wasn't immediately necessary, he hung back as Ambrose walked purposefully to the dining room's other entrance. He knew exactly who he was looking for.

"Devon Hadden," he almost purred, appearing behind the man standing, in the most emo way possible, in the doorway. "I've heard a lot about you." He extended a hand. "Ambrose Jaager, though I'm sure you know that at this point."

Creepy.

The man was creepy.

Ambrose Jagger was all charm and excitement at the podium one minute, then sorrow and sympathetic the next. Devon didn't buy much of it, though he recognized his own bias of distrust. He was a student of human (and mutant) behavior after all and found he could usually read the way of people. Of course, a practiced speech on the topic of Odessa and Utopia didn't have many other feelings than the ones Ambrose had displayed.

He handed things over to the charming British Commander, who was a good looking and smooth talking sort as well. A bit strange though was the attendant or bodyguard Ambrose kept around and followed him out into the hallway, slinking out the opposite side of the room like a side winding weasel, snake, or well... Celebrity. Put on a show and then bail out fast. It had been an opportune moment for some publicity Devon bet. There'd be facebook posts, twitter hashtags, a couple instagaram-

Devon's back straightened as he heard his name cooed from behind him. His head turned slowly to see who it was, though he already knew. Why the devil did he go out the opposite side if he wanted to talk? Unless it was a matter of discretion of course; that made some sense. Still, Devon recognized his own wariness and reminded himself to relax.

The young man grinned at the shorter, wealthier, and more influential man. "I'm sorry," Devon whispered with a faint chuckle in his throat, taking the man's hand in a solid hand shake (for a human anyway), "You surprised me. Yes, of course. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jaager."

Devon turned further, moving as if to step back into the hallway. "I've heard and seen much of you, though I'm sure you're accustomed to that. I'm not so familiar with the feeling," he shook his head, glancing down the way to Romeo. In a relaxed, casual gesture he motioned to the man, "Can I get either of you anything? If you were hoping to talk, I'm happy to do so."

He continued immediately a moment further, however. "I have to admit, I was surprised you came. Many were, but maybe it's good to get out?" Devon asked with an appraising tone.

"I'm sorry," Devon whispered politely, taking Ambrose's hand. "You surprised me." As Ambrose had meant to, for dramatic effect. It'd worked, apparently, which was great. He hated it when people didn't understand dramatic effect when they saw it and ruined everything. "Yes, of course. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jaager."

Devon stepped out into the hallway, presumably so their whispering wouldn't interrupt Cail's speech. Wasn't that polite of him. Ambrose couldn't help but growl inwardly a bit at his lack of height - he was a good three or four inches shorter than the other man, even if he'd checked and so knew that he was just as many years older. But hey - he was only shorter in this stupid, limited human form. His true form was - he was getting hung up on size again. Last time that'd happened, he'd tried to attack an X-Man. Maybe he should start considering that a potential weakness on his part.

"I've heard and seen much of you, though I'm sure you're accustomed to that. I'm not so familiar with the feeling," Devon said, and Ambrose of course caught the glance and subsequent gesture to the bodyguard lurking down the hallway. "Can I get either of you anything? If you were hoping to talk, I'm happy to do so."

Ambrose was about to respond, but Devon looked like he had something he wanted to get out. So he waited instead. "I have to admit, I was surprised you came. Many were, but maybe it's good to get out?"

Well, first off. "We're fine, thank you," Ambrose responded courteously, before turning to look at Romeo. It only took a small gesture for him to send Romeo off, because it'd be difficult to talk with the large bodyguard looming at them like the Sword of Damocles from down the hall. The man nodded and dodged outside of the building entirely, presumably to check with the private security surrounding Sanctuary right now. They weren't immediately noticeable, but anyone who looked hard enough would see the glint of a sniper's scope on a nearby rooftop or someone loitering with a cigarette a bit too suspiciously. Better to be safe than sorry, after all - crashing a JW-hosted event in the notoriously mutant-friendly Sanctuary would be the magnum opus of any anti-mutant group, and while Ambrose was generally all for conflict, he preferred it when it didn't conflict with his own schedule.

"And you could say that," Ambrose said, friendly as ever. "It's nice to see the result of JW's efforts in person sometimes." That was a cookie-cutter line, force-fed to him by Madeline, who had outright refused to let him leave his office one day until he'd memorized the entire list she'd had typed up.

"This is more publicity than you've ever had," she'd growled, ignoring his protests that excuse her, but Ambrose was already quite famous, thank you very much. "You're good with facades. This is another. So don't ruin everything by saying something stupid."

He was relatively sure that she forgot sometimes that Ragnarok was his chaos baby. If there was one person who wouldn't ever mess up, it'd be Ambrose. (The lines had been helpful, though, but he'd never admit that to her.)

"But you should get used to being recognized, at this point - your good deeds here haven't gone unnoticed." Ambrose stepped in a bit closer, tamping down the part of him that seethed at having to look up to see Devon's face. "I'm sure you know of Sanctuary's history before you got here, hmm?" Ambrose's voice was even and just as polite, as if he hadn't just committed the most grievous social transgression of them all - randomly invading a total stranger's personal space.

But he'd needed to get close. It was a loaded question, because anyone could, and would, answer that it was a shelter meant for uprooted mutants. But the real answer - the one Ambrose was looking for - pertained to the Order. Devon could lie, of course, but Ambrose would know. Right now, Ambrose was listening to Devon's heartbeat, having managed to get close enough to hear. Faster probably meant that Devon knew what Ambrose was really asking, regardless of what he actually said, but if it stayed even, then Ambrose would know that the most disgustingly well-intentioned goody two-shoes really had just randomly stumbled into the city and decided to make Sanctuary his charity case.

There was a third possibility, of course - that Devon's heart rate would rise because Ambrose was really a lot closer than any sentient being should be comfortable with, to the point where Devon could probably feel Ambrose's noticeable lack of human-like body heat. But Ambrose neither realized nor even considered that, because he was an idiot sometimes, and this was one of those times. And probably also because he was too caught up in proactively planning what he'd do to Devon if the little unknown annoyance turned out to be a big known one instead.

Devon simply nodded. He had assumed they wanted for nothing but his inquiry had achieved the intended result. Privacy or at least the illusion of it prevailed. The bodyguard went scurrying off. Devon did wonder just how many were actually watching. Sanctuary had its own now too, between some of the volunteers, a few of the residents, and even a custodial robot here and there. They weren't taking chances since Odessa.

"And you could say that," Ambrose said, friendly as ever. "It's nice to see the result of JW's efforts in person sometimes."

"Ah, yeah, I bet," Devon said with a small chuckle.

"But you should get used to being recognized, at this point - your good deeds here haven't gone unnoticed." Ambrose stepped in a bit closer, tamping down the part of him that seethed at having to look up to see Devon's face.

The closeness sparked numerous thoughts within the young mutant psychologist. Ambrose's words were a compliment though if they'd been slightly more flirtatious Devon might have concluded the physicality an extension of that. That didn't seem likely. He wasn't whispering a secret. There were also those who had difficulty with personal spaces, rare as they were. A few disorders were typically attributed to such behavior: borderline personality and narcissistic personality. Devon didn't need a guess to conclude which was the one.

Of course there was also this feeling like Ambrose was either going to hump his leg or pee on him. Was it a power move as he stepped forward, peering up at Devon's blue eyes? Was he indeed Order pushing for influence on what had been his territory?

All such concerns simply drew a narrowed brow from Devon; he didn't feel threatened. Not yet anyway, but he was intrigued.

"I'm sure you know of Sanctuary's history before you got here, hmm?"

As the numerous possibilities filtered through Devon's mind, the next question brought only more curiosity.

"Well yes," Devon grinned, the mirth touching his eyes too, "And no. I had sought the best shelter to volunteer at, one good with mutants..." He trailed off and laughed suddenly, tilting his head down slightly and to the side with the slightest cant as he too took a step forward. His heart did increase its beat, though the rhythm changed not to that of fear but excitement let alone laughter did wonders for cardiovascular health.

Devon couldn't imagine this is how an Order member would approach the topic though. Wouldn't they seek a code word, reference downstairs, maybe be outright like Geist had? Instead it seemed to him that Ambrose was trying to gauge Tempest's involvement.

"I'm sorry. Are you asking what I think you're asking?" He chuckled again immediately, straightening and pulling his head back, "I think so. I was going to try and see if you did too. Were you with them? I was afraid you might be after your public declaration what with your practiced smile, spun words, and well- financial backing of Utopia. Sounded awfully new governmental and orderly to me..."

Devon's grin remained.

Devon took a step forward, and Ambrose fought the urge to take a step backward, because jeez, that was not what he'd been going for.

Now Ambrose was feeling twitchy, even if he didn't show it, because they were so close that he could swear that he could feel Devon's heartbeat instead of hearing it. His discomfort didn't come from the social inappropriateness of the situation, but instead from the underlying implications of power. Devon wasn't backing off, but neither would Ambrose. Yes, Devon was much taller, but Ambrose was older and probably would win in a fight. He'd gotten varied accounts of what the man in front of him's mutation could be, but judging by the name "Tempest" and the general storm theme he'd heard about, he was going to wager a guess and say weather manipulation. "Weather manipulation" didn't often find itself coupled with "super strength," so Ambrose doubted that he'd lose a fight, if Devon really was from the Order and decided to take advantage of their physical proximity to try something.

Ambrose was starting to think that Devon wouldn't, though. The younger man's heart rate was rising, but Ambrose couldn't smell any fear. (Which, granted, he technically couldn't to begin with, but when someone was scared, their scent always grew a bit... spikier. Sharper. A bit like molding ginger, actually.) At first, it sounded like Devon was going to play along. Keep up the Good Samaritan act, like he knew nothing at all. But then Devon dropped all pretense of being an ignorant bystander on the edge of the mutant conflicts of the city.

"I'm sorry. Are you asking what I think you're asking?" There we are. Progress. Finally, Devon had moved back a bit. Also, he'd gotten to the point. That too. "I think so. I was going to try and see if you did too. Were you with them? I was afraid you might be after your public declaration what with your practiced smile, spun words, and well- financial backing of Utopia. Sounded awfully new governmental and orderly to me..."

Ambrose smiled in response, even though inwardly he wanted to go start a fire. This was so much worse. Being accused of being Order? Excuse him. He would not be compared to those trashy excuses for criminals, with their dull motto of "mutant supremacy" and everything. Dull, and stupid. He'd dismantled them with the assistance of only two toddlers, thank you very much. He hadn't even needed to do anything other than provide parental supervision (see: buy bullets and drones for the children) - the toddlers had been more than enough. Ambrose didn't know what Lori Faust was doing these days, considering he didn't even bother to check, but last he'd heard, she was homeless.

That'd been fun.

"A common misconception," Ambrose said smoothly, his eyes not once breaking with Devon's gaze. "JW isn't Utopia's only backer, of course - we're merely the ones who are most comfortable being public. I am no more a figurehead for Utopia than you are for the Order." There. He'd said it. His smile grew a bit wider. "Might as well stop dancing around. I'm not Order. I almost find the insinuation insulting, in fact. I'm merely... a concerned third party." And didn't that sound sketchy. But it was better than being Order. "But what about you, Devon?" If there had been space, Ambrose would've sidled up to him, but there wasn't, so he settled for stepping forward to where Devon had stepped back in a decidedly aggressive manner. "You don't seem like you'd be one of them. You're too young." He flashed a predatory glimpse of teeth, sharpened canines lining his jaws, and he leaned in a bit to breathe his next words into Devon's ear (thank whatever deity was up there that he was tall enough, or that would've been horrible). "And too pretty."

Being unpredictable was wonderful. So moments like these? When Ambrose could say something so totally and incredibly off-putting to be completely socially inappropriate? They were amazing. Breaking social norms was what Ambrose lived for, be it doing the weirdest, most random sh*t to blowing up sh*t. It was great.

Ambrose was an interesting person to read by Devon's skill anyway. When he stepped forward, the man did nothing. Ambrose didn't incline his chin like some might in defiance. He didn't drop it either like a social come-hither-play for the pupils to gaze up from the top of the eyes. He didn't change his stance, didn't shift his shoulders, or even make much of a facial expression in response.

Devon had to conclude Ambrose was waiting for something more or at least debating his response carefully. It was how Devon might likely react as well and it fit quite perfectly with Devon's expectation of the public figure, the CEO, needing to carefully judge and decide on the correct course of action. He was fairly certain he'd surprised the slightly older man.

Of course, Ambrose's smile at Devon's not so subtle play on words got the men matching in their grin. There it was and now Devon was convinced the man wasn't Order. An Order member likely would have showed at least a dropped brow in anger or frustration, maybe even violence if Geist was any example. No, Ambrose clearly enjoyed the game of words and whatever else it was he was playing at.

Their gaze held and Devon wasn't about to break it. This was something else and he didn't mind it. Maybe he'd get Jagaar Worldwide to donate more to Sanctuary after all. Maybe he'd get more than that... There was something else here, Devon felt, and it continued to raise his curiosity.

At the idea of Devon being a figurehead for the Order, he chuckled. He shook his head at that point as well, the slow casual kind of disagreement that was almost amused in its denial. The grin widened though for Ambrose had said it plainly. Seeing the CEO's smile widen as well was amusing. Devon wondered if Ambrose felt successful since he'd been the first to state it openly because Devon felt the winner for having not done so.

Maybe Ambrose and his business were simply one of many backers, but he was campaigning for the Utopia alliance. Devon had nothing to do with the Order except volunteering in seemingly its old, defunct, and damaged headquarters. Maybe Ambrose was merely a concerned third party, but he clearly represented more than he'd care to say. Devon was fairly certain this was no X-Man in disguise either. He must know quite a bit to be insulted by the idea of membership to the Order.

"But what about you, Devon?" If there had been space, Ambrose would've sidled up to him, but there wasn't, so he settled for stepping forward to where Devon had stepped back in a decidedly aggressive manner. "You don't seem like you'd be one of them. You're too young."

Now it was Devon's turn to drop his head, his brow raising as the grin dropped to a bemused, almost crooked smile. His blue eyes settled at the top even as he looked down at the allegedly-winged man. Ambrose's grin became a wide attack of teeth and for a moment Devon wondered if the man's mutant ability might secretly hold some capable oral talent, but instead Devon leaned forward as there wasn't any space left to step in. "I-"

"And too pretty."

"Heh," Devon muttered before snapping his mouth shut. He made the same noise again as he pushed the remaining breath for his intended reply out his nose while that crooked smile of his twisted back up into a grin. A touch of color rose to his cheeks, making the pretty boy seem younger still. That had surprised Devon and he followed up the ruined statement of his with a small chuckle from the back of his throat.

As fun as this game was, Devon was indeed finding it hard to predict what Ambrose would say next even if some of the physicality was expected. This was control and now even seduction. Devon wasn't sure what Ambrose was after, but he had a fair idea any admittance to being a part of the Order would likely get that bodyguard running back over. Could he be listening in perhaps?

"Hey now," Devon finally said, shrugging his shoulders back to push out his chest, not that it was a display of pectoral definition but the gesture was meaningful to him. The grin remained and he didn't step back, not this time. "That's not fair. I haven't had the chance to prove myself by taking over a billion dollar company let alone find time for the gym what with school and working," he continued before leaning in to the man's ear. He whispered, "but thanks, tough guy. You're a dashing, dominant sort aren't you?"

Devon lifted his head and looked down those few scant inches at Ambrose, "And you've got a far better wardrobe." He nodded slowly, appraisingly. "I guess I should confirm then I'm not Order before you bite my head off if that's why you came here. They're gone and I'm basically the volunteer manager in charge now. It's just a shelter, and a community center. I'm working hard on that."

"But... You want to tell me more about the Order then and what you know? I was going to say I'm sorry for the insult before you sidled up to my neck. I don't know much about what they were about, but I guess you do and don't like what it was," Devon said with understanding. "Seems a lot of people care about the Order and we could talk about it, say... Over dinner? Then you wouldn't need to keep climbing up onto me to make your point though I'm sure you're enjoying it."

Devon nodded again, still grinning.

"Heh."

Ambrose's grin grew even wider, if at all possible, watching the man in front of (and, admittedly, a little above) him blush. He wasn't quite as affected as Ambrose would have anticipated - a smile still stayed plastered on Devon's face - but it was enough to make Ambrose feel comfortably in control of the situation.

Also, Ambrose was a hundred percent aware that Romeo was listening in from outside. The bodyguard had the helm of his exoskeleton on and was standing with his face mostly hidden to disguise the distinctly canine features that'd graced so many television screens these past few days (Romeo had finally been able to go out, albeit at night, so he wouldn't be identified). That helm gave Romeo the sort of senses that Ambrose already possessed, and allowed Romeo to pick up on his boss's every word.

Romeo had heard about the Kaz incident. It'd grown surprisingly quickly in notoriety, spreading through Rag's inner circles, in no small part due to Cail's surprisingly gossipy nature (one didn't function as what was essentially a doorman without spreading some news). He did not want to be present for a repeat of that, and so Ambrose, with his boosted hearing, clearly heard when the helm melted back into his skin and Romeo speedily left the general area.

If Ambrose looked even more distinctly pleased after that, he wouldn't confirm it - but he definitely wouldn't deny it either.

"Hey now," Devon finally said, after recovering from the shock. "That's not fair. I haven't had the chance to prove myself by taking over a billion dollar company let alone find time for the gym what with school and working."

...seriously, was this guy determined to ruin Ambrose's fun every chance he could by insinuating that Ambrose was Order? Ambrose would be less offended by the insinuation that he was a walking, breathing compost bin. At least compost bins did something.

Then Devon leaned in, and Ambrose realized rather suddenly that apparently he'd gone and turned this into a repeat of The Kaz Incident again, without even intending to. Perhaps with a bit less violence - his shoulder wasn't dislocated, for one - and it was far more comforting to be in the role of greater power. Also, to be in full control of his mental faculties. He'd take that whenever he could.

"But thanks, tough guy. You're a dashing, dominant sort aren't you?" Devon whispered into Ambrose's ear, having leaned in just as Ambrose had mere moments ago. Well. It wasn't like Ambrose was going to deny that. Anyone who said flattery didn't get you anywhere was wrong, because when it came to Ambrose Jaager, flattery was one of the few things he did respond to.

Complimenting his clothing worked, although not quite as much to the compliment to his personality, considering Ambrose barely knew where his own clothes came from. But he was wearing it, and that sufficed. (To say he was egotistical was a bit of an understatement, to be honest.)

Devon confirmed that he wasn't Order, then, and Ambrose confirmed that Devon was telling the truth. There was no telltale boost in heartbeat, like there would've been for any sane person who had someone standing inches away from their neck - as Devon had so kindly pointed out - in a decidedly threatening manner. And then -

Did he just get asked out on a date?

He did, didn't he. Ambrose blinked once, bemused, but his face stayed in its same arrogantly confident demeanor. Nothing changed - he had quite a bit of practice with that, after all. And the climbing up comment - okay, yes, power play noticed and acknowledged. Wonderful. Now for the - how did normal people respond to requests for dinner together? Ambrose knew he was going to accept, of course; even if Devon wasn't Order (and there was still a possibility that he was just an extremely skilled liar instead), keeping a close eye on one of the Sanctuary's new regulars would be helpful in the future should the Order try to reclaim it.

Also, Ambrose liked to toy with other people. He was looking forward to seeing how a certain mutant would respond to Devon, once pictures of them having dinner inevitably hit the tabloids.

"I'd be delighted," Ambrose said, smiling, still not stepping back. "Six o'clock, wouldn't you say? I'll make a reservation, and send you the address. Don't worry about giving me your number; I already have it." Well, not yet. But one call to Panu and then he would. And it really added to Ambrose's whole "omnipresent" vibe. He'd been going for that lately. Granted, it was ninety percent Panu, nine percent his underlings gathering information, and one percent what Ambrose was immediately seeing in front of him, but that was irrelevant. "Is there anything else, Mr. Hadden?"

Ambrose... hadn't really needed to ask that, to be honest. But it was polite. And vaguely intimidating. All movie villains did it. And while Ambrose would sooner become an X-Men than become a cliche, he was going to allow himself this one.

Devon wasn't sure how to feel. Seeing Ambrose's smile broaden at the discomfort he was evoking made Devon feel something akin to excitement. Yet, it was tempered by the clear reminder of what he'd already recognized; Ambrose enjoyed proving his dominance and expressing that. Was it a surprise to find the darkly handsome, wealthy CEO a bit of a narcissistic, sensual, and domineering type? No. Devon was fairly certain there was archetypal personality for that: the Ruler.

It was a Self type, where Devon fell more into the Orphan or Caregiver, likely some combo of both the Ego types. Devon wanted to connect, wanted to help others. So what did the man in front of him want? Power, and typically control. Somewhere at the cross section of both was usually the desire for a strong, successful family or in Devon's case, community. Devon knew people couldn't be defined so simply. He also knew he had baggage that weighed him down from his goals. What hid behind Ambrose's blue eyes?

Still, Devon was enjoying this repartee. It wasn't often he acquired such attention, let alone flirtation. It was a bit strange to make something of Ambrose's interests. Devon's own interest was peaked.

It seemed Ambrose's was as well, even if it wasn't personally directed at Devon but more at Devon's playing back. Again, the calm, even facade of a business leader was recognizable to Devon. It was all so very practiced. Devon had to wonder if this all seemed normal to Ambrose; did he not realize how odd some of this was?

"I'd be delighted," Ambrose said, smiling, still not stepping back. "Six o'clock, wouldn't you say? I'll make a reservation, and send you the address. Don't worry about giving me your number; I already have it."

Of course he did. "Wow," Devon's eyes widened though he wasn't actually surprised. "Impressive. Well sure and I assume then you could even send a car to pick me up as someone as informed and well to do must already know where I live." Devon smirked, a crooked lipped, quirked brow smirk.

Maybe all this wasn't odd for Ambrose Jaager. Maybe all this was normal to him. Maybe the secret scales and the black wings were just a tell tale sign of someone who delighted in such mischief, who ruled from a corporate black throne, enjoyed toying with others, and sought something he knew he couldn't hold onto anyway. Whether he was Order or not, there was still a demand for order, his order however that was laid out. What sort of plan that was could be as fun or removed from societal norms as one might guess.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Hadden?"

Though he was only further amused by the antics, Devon was still wondering. There was a devilish streak to this one, though Devon couldn't see a tail. Yet, he felt mutations either played a part in their behavior or the behavior led to a certain development of mutation. A metaphysicist or religious leader might speak of the fates or divine destiny while a scientist would likely draw a conclusion of behavior based on the development of the person from their mutation. Devon's background wondered as to both, especially with Ambrose Jaager. He had plenty of questions about this man.

"Yes, of course there is," Devon nodded slowly, his brow narrowing to form a dark frame over his true blue azure eyes. His tone mocked seriousness as he drew out the last word and his upper lip wrapped over the bottom like a child teasing the knowledge of a secret. Devon stepped into Ambrose, brushing his chest and arm with his own before quickly moving to the side and passed the infernal metaphor. His gaze turned down over his shoulder.

"But we've got time for that later," Devon's smirk softened to a smile as he teasingly, sarcastically replied, "Mr. Jaager."

He took a few steps back toward the dining room's door and sighed, chuckling, "And don't go overboard alright? Somewhere you feel comfortable and enjoy, where we can just talk is absolutely fine. You don't need to impress me. I backed away first, remember?"

Devon chuckled again and went to rejoin the Sanctuary listeners, eager to see (and stop) how many were falling under the sway of the presentation.