"Anytime, bro. But yeah, a healer does sorta compensate for lack of workman's comp. Besides, how would you file for what we do, anyway?" he joked lightly before making his way through the party, drink still in hand. His icy blue eyes scanned the room, focusing in on numerous faces, most of which he hadn't seen before, since he was fairly new to things here. But when he put the glass back to his lips, he came to a horrifying realization: his drink was empty. So, he made his way back over to the bar, setting his glass down and politely waving for the bartender to get him another one.

His drink refilled, he looked over, to see a rather stunning number in a black dress. Not bad at all...this is why the canine shifter loved parties. Hell, so far just the drinks were worth getting shot in the butt over.

"You know," Jay said, letting his southern accent bleed through a little bit as he spoke--even though he'd been in New York so long he was essentially faking it, "It should be a sin for a woman as pretty as you to spend a party like this alone." He took a sip of his drink. "I'm Jay."

Agnes loved to have fun. It was what she was all about these days. Sure she had some other, more nefarious plans in mind, and whomever was running this organization would certainly want her talents for more than just looking pretty in a skintight dress, but for the most part she was a woman who absolutely adored seeking out whatever good times she could find. Today it just so happened to be in a swanky hotel run by a mysterious figure from the shadows. It was a tantalizing idea, of course, once with brought a persistent smile to the insect queen’s lips.

The other factor for a good time was the attention of another. Now, Agnes didn’t bed men. As amorous and charming and persistent as they can be, she really had little interest in them. Though it was still fun to bleed as much attention and presents as she could. This young man, for example, was the perfect specimen for such a time. Handsome, fit, doting, he was a bit exaggerated (like a stereotypical man written for a sitcom), but still his wandering eyes were hard to ignore.

Why not play a little with the mouse before batting him aside?

He apologized for bumping into her, promises that it would not happen again, but Agnes was quick with her own teasing, smiling and giggling sweetly as she shook her head. With a slight bat of her eyes, she coyly replied that it was a worthwhile way to meet others, surely he wouldn’t deny her that pleasure, would he?

>>“Oh I shan’t, shan’t...Only the ones not befitting the right to talk to you. Should you present your standards and demands I shall endeavor to make the proclamations,”

She purred sweetly. Oh how she loved the way that this guy spoke. Surely he was over doing it, but she wasn’t going to complain about that right now. She was just going to bask in the attention and see where the evening brought her. Who knows, he could prove entertaining for her -- or at least until she managed to connect with an attractive woman who could certain provide something he couldn’t.

”Mmm, I’ll think about,” she said in a tone sweeter than honey. ”In the meantime, you can keep me company.” The way she said it made it certainly sound like it wasn’t a request.

>>“The Lady Agnes may call me her Warlock...Maybe if you were to be too kind you could introduce me to the host here? I’m afraid I haven’t yet had the honor. Unless perhaps I’m luckier still and it’s you? You are certainly sapphire and grand.”

”My, Mr. Warlock,” she cooed. ”You certainly have a way with compliments.” She sighed, taking a disapointed sip from her drink. ”But, as it turns out, I am not the hostess-with-the-mostest,” She turned, her eyes surveying the crowd around her. ”I’m afraid that my invitation here was given under rather mysterious circumstances. But,” she edged closer to Warlock. ”Maybe together we can solve this riddle?”

Parties were always an interesting experience for Ion. The way he operated when working left his brain in an confrontational mindset. This was useful in most aspects, but at parties it just made you someone people didn’t want to be around. It was therefore a good thing that Ion had spent the last several days working on familiarizing himself with Syndicate as it existed on paper. The time spent neither in court nor babysitting a client allowed him to take a step away from that way of thinking.

Ion checked his watch. The party would likely be in full swing by the time he got there. He set his pen down on the pad he had been taking notes on and closed the file he had been reading. The time for work was done, it was time to relax. And the new Counselor for the Syndicate should make an appearance.

A quick switch to an electric blue suit and a bowtie and he hopped into his car to head to the Sapphire. Once there Ion set his electric car to valet mode and stepped out to let someone take his car for him. It would be delivered to the executive parking for him.

From there it was up to the top floor and into the Diamond Lounge.

As expected the part had already begun as people milled about, talking and drinking. As one would expect in such a venue, those in attendance had dressed to the nines. Ion smiled as he gave a casual look around the room. Such attractive people were in attendance. But before making the rounds and introducing himself, a drink was in order.

Ion strolled up to the bar and ordered a glass of Macallan 1954, neat. An expensive favorite of his. Ion had seen to it that the Sapphire had a bottle set aside for him. As he waited for his drink he scanned the crowd. The only truly familiar face was Poseidon. Other than him he saw Charlie Sinclair . Poseidon had indicated she was someone he should meet.

Drink in hand Ion made his way toward Ms. Sinclair. She was with another woman; early twenties and in an over the top dress. ”Good evening, ladies.” Ion waved his drink nonchalauntly and vaguely in their direction. ”Mr. Cervantes indicated I should meet you, Ms. Sinclair. My name is William Faraday, but you can call me Ion.” He turned to the other woman, ”And a pleasure to meet you as well, miss?” Ion asked the woman with Charlie.

>> ”In the meantime, you can keep me company.”

Maybe it was less Queen Cobra and more Queen Bee. He sure didn’t mind. “But of course, m’lady,” he bowed his head slightly, sounding very much the British knight. “A pack of wolves is far more dangerous than one alone.” He paused and grinned, “Even if that pack is two.” He surely wasn’t calling this collection a pack just yet.

Thus far many seemed rather comfortable lying about, so if anything these wolves were far below Beta. They were slinking around the sides of the room, hovering at the bar, flirting and whispering. A few were more eye-catching than others, like this Agnes had been.

>> ”My, Mr. Warlock,” she cooed. ”You certainly have a way with compliments.”

“Yes, I do,” he bowed his head again with a knowing smirk.

>> ”I’m afraid that my invitation here was given under rather mysterious circumstances. But,” she edged closer to Warlock. ”Maybe together we can solve this riddle?”

“Indeed?” he asked only partially surprised. “Well then, m’lady, I have a few prospects to suggest.” A hand went to the small of her back as she came close, pressing gently as he pivoted so that both could turn in the same direction as if they were dancing.

“Most,” he spoke in a whisper, “have made omegas of themselves, laying back in their seats. You can see their bellies plainly. But a few patrol their den.” He nodded, “The woman in the svelte black dress left her partner at the door as if to make a singular walk to the bar. And now the man in the blue who just arrived approaches her and I presume her mate. There’s also the man in the green shirt and black jeans who’s been strutting around, but perhaps that’s just a man ready to rut. Certainly no leader would come here,” he stressed the word, “In jeans.”

Warlock shook his head, “No, my bet is on the black suited fellow with the salt-and-pepper hair. He’s walking around like he owns the place, exchanging glances and quick words with many of the patrons. Perhaps a lady of your breeding and status can astute what mine foreign eyes have only guessed at?”

Stephanie took cursory glances toward the group chatting in the area, but she did not want to linger and unintentionally make eye contact. Eye contact drew attention, especially with her eyes, and she was content to spend most of the party avoiding attention.

Of course, Poseidon had taken this wish of hers into account, and had put her in a dress that sought attention against her will. For a wicked manipulator of a man, he did have an eye for evocative female fashion. It unsettled her the first time she realized he knew her sizes to the point where each dress seemed tailored to her curves, but now she was just unsettled by how much each selection felt like something that would belong in her closet. (Well, the more daring section of her closet.)

As expected, her dress and the body it wrapped around had garnered attention, and unsurprisingly, it was male attention. His line was corny, but he was a handsome enough guy to get away with a little cheesiness. In other circumstances, she might be more interested, but she tempered her interest in the men of Syndicate; this Jay might have been new, but that did not make him any less trustworthy than the others.

She gave him a quick glance of her grey eyes before she turned her attention back behind the bar, sipping her manhattan. "Well, I'm already here. Who's to say I'm not a sinner already?" She took another sip, letting her words linger for a moment before adding, "Besides, drinking alone at the bar means I'm never too far from my next drink." The North Carolina in her voice was slightly more natural than the man's southern drawl.

"How about you?" She was still not looking at the man yet, but at least Poseidon could not claim she was not interacting. "No pretty young thing on your arm?"

"Well, if that's the case, I'd say you were in good company," he replied with a smile as he took a sip of his drink. His eyes were trained on her, but she never looked at him aside from a quick glance at the beginning. The canine-shifter could practically feel the wall she was putting up, but it was no matter. He was either going to break through the wall, or likely wake up in the hospital, but he wasn't the type to give up unless he was told to up front. And as it stood....she never told him to go away.

"Besides, drinking alone at the bar means I'm never too far from my next drink." He caught a bit of an accent from her, too, which made him smile a little wider.

"I like the way you think," he said with a smirk, taking his drink a little more slowly. After all, this was an art that required his full facilities--well, what was left of them. He chuckled at her question, then gave a shrug.

"What can I say? I'm the new kid," he answered with a shrug. "No, but I'm hoping that may change by the end of this conversation." Jay winked, though she still wasn't really looking at him. Maybe his playful tone and southern charm (albeit exaggerated) were helping a little.

Well, Khalil'd be damned, Jay was actually having a conversation Stephanie. New guys had all the luck. The scarlet-skinned man took another swig of his drink, smiling faintly. Go get 'er, tiger. When he finished his swig, his eyes drifted over the room. Floating without a person to talk to felt strange, he'd need to find someone to chat with, or risk wasting away from boredom.

He didn't see any appealing young ladies, or young men, for that matter. Only the boss seemed unoccupied with anyone else. It wouldn't be proper to to not say hello. Khalil roused himself from his chair, stretching his wings. He moved fluidly through the crowd, dipping as he drew nearer to Poseidon.

"Good evening, sir," Khalil greeted, honey-gold eyes simmering towards Poseidon's face, "Marvelous party you have here."

His tail flicked and curled, a smile twisting upon his lips.

Jorge Cervantes

Agnes smiled. She certainly liked the cut of this guy. He was complimentary and flamboyant, and most of all he seemed to be begging to stay on her good side -- she loved it when people groveled. It could have all been a ploy, sure, but she would deal with the ramifications of that when they arrived. Truthfully, Agnes was one to live as dangerously as possible. She didn’t like the idea of wasting time and that was exactly what she would be doing if she had decided to play things safe. Besides, if things did go south, she didn’t have the cowering Agnes cringing and crying for her to hold back anymore. Anyone who uses her would surely regret it.

She pushed closer to the Warlock. It seemed that they were both new to this scene and neither of them were aware who could be running the show. Agnes had her guesses but for the most part she hadn’t been too interested in solving the mystery until now. The club was obviously well put together and there were a number of people here, all of which seemed to come from a variety of places in the world: higher-ups, thugs, swindlers, it was honestly her kind of world. But who would pull such a motley crew together? And why?

>>“Indeed? Well then, m’lady, I have a few prospects to suggest.”

”Ooo…” she puckered her lips inquisitively. ”..please...go on…”

>>“Most...have made omegas of themselves, laying back in their seats. You can see their bellies plainly. But a few patrol their den...The woman in the svelte black dress left her partner at the door as if to make a singular walk to the bar. And now the man in the blue who just arrived approaches her and I presume her mate. There’s also the man in the green shirt and black jeans who’s been strutting around, but perhaps that’s just a man ready to rut. Certainly no leader would come here...In jeans.”

Agnes snickered. Her sapphire eyes glanced to every person that the Warlock pointed out and she had to surmise the same as he did that a number of these people certainly didn’t appear as “leader” material. They were individuals who simply came to party, some not as effervescent as they should be, but certainly nothing that portrayed them as the man behind the curtain.

That is, until finally, her eyes fell upon the taller, older, handsome man who seemed to glide through the party with an impenetrable air of confidence. There was such confidence whirling about him that it could certainly be viewed at complete and utter arrogance -- and it was something that certainly piqued the young woman’s attention.

>> “No, my bet is on the black suited fellow with the salt-and-pepper hair. He’s walking around like he owns the place, exchanging glances and quick words with many of the patrons. Perhaps a lady of your breeding and status can astute what mine foreign eyes have only guessed at?”

A soft sound of intrigue fell from her lips. She wasn’t looking at Warlock anymore but instead was fixated on the older man with the red-faced demon-boy who approached him. The way the other walked, almost like a low-ranking pup in approaching an alpha was enough to convince her of both hers and Warlock’s guesses. A glance was cast back to her newfound friend and a viper’s smile obscenely stretched her lips.

”Mmm…” she reached out, curling her arm around on of Warlock’s. ”I DO believe you’re right, handsome. What do you think?” She asked, nodding towards the older man and his red skinned friend. ”Shall we mingle and introduce ourselves when he’s not occupied? Or shall we attempt to interrupt them now?”

Poseidon had done the rounds, greeted total strangers and “friends” alike. He was now in the area of the bar, sighing as he looked out over the area. He was witnessing an empire in the creation, and it was something that certainly made him...excited. Oh what would he manage to create here? Even if SUPER was beginning to take roots, they would be on level playing fields again. It would be easier this time. SUPER would be a fish out of water and the Syndicate will be there to stomp the last visages of life from their corpses. All he needed was patience and to continue to build his strength in this world.

But he was going to need help. He had plenty loyal to him on the other side of the rift but he couldn’t easily divide them up between dimensions without spreading them too thin. No, he needed forces in both his world and this one. He needed an army, a massive one, one that would ensure that he could cover both sides of the gap, allowing him to see and react to everything at all times. It sounded like a stressful endeavor, sure, but he was fighting for his species and no expense was too great.

However, for tonight, there were no war plans, no deceits, no blood to really be spilled -- simply a chance to meet, to observe, and plan for the future.

Taking a flute of champagne in hand, he took a careful sip, his eyes glancing over the glass as he observed the oncoming figure in a fine suit and blazed as read as the devil himself. But he knew who the entity was, and he didn’t fear for his soul. He wasn’t weak like others where a simple glance at a living demon would send them scurrying to their local church for absolution. Rather, he was almost a little annoyed with the winged devil. His latest injuries were -- complicating but the real reason Jorge cast suspicious eyes upon him were his seemingly drastic change in attitude.

Again, he needed to keep his eye on him.

>>"Good evening, sir, Marvelous party you have here."

Jorge grunted a throaty response, ”Um,” finishing his sip before he lowered the glass. He turned his eyes back onto the little imp. ”Thank you, Khalil,” he spoke. ”Enjoying yourself?” he inquired. ”The healer seems to be doing wonders for you. Before long you’ll be your devilish, hell-raising self again...right?”

That wasn’t a hope for well-being, but instead carried with it the ring of a warning. Poseidon knew that Khalil was being...different. While he wasn’t making any outward threats, he did want it known that it was something that hadn’t escaped his attention -- as few things do.

>> ”Ooo…” she puckered her lips inquisitively. ”..please...go on…”

Warlock was sincerely thrilled that someone willing to play along, enjoy the game had bumped into him. That told him the person meant business and was comfortable enough in the business to have fun with it. He hated the old, boring, jaded types. They either cared too much or were bad at it.

She cuddled up, snickering at his jokes, and he grinned at her dramatics. He sure hoped she could cut with sarcasm and judgement as easily. If so, they could have a grand old time in the future.

>> ”I DO believe you’re right, handsome. What do you think?”

Warlock chuckled like a Brit 10 seats from the throne, “I mean if the Devil lowers himself to someone, you can bet they’re in charge.”

>> ”Shall we mingle and introduce ourselves when he’s not occupied? Or shall we attempt to interrupt them now?”

“Mmm,” he rose a finger to his lips, glancing upward in serious thought. “I would expect he might be appraising of our activities here, so let’s let him alone to enjoy his party while we parley with his crew.” His eyes scanned the room and the he leaned in, whispering as he inclined his chin, “Perhaps we should rescue the two lovely young ladies from the bright blue boy? Should we need to separate I’ll gladly enjoy entertaining whichever you haven’t chosen.” He chuckled again and then gestured toward the trio.

With a genteman’s arm extended he guided the Queen Cobra along, a soft smile on his lips as they approached the women who’d arrived together and the man electric.

Steph would give the guy credit; he was persistent, but not in an aggravating way. He was not oblivious to how she was responding to him, but he was not letting it discourage him. She had not told him no, and he was willing to believe he had a chance. Sure, Steph considered telling him no, but she would take her time in coming to that decision. She did not plan on letting him make any ground, but she also did have to find some way to occupy herself at the party.

He owned his new kid status, which was smart, since Steph was not going to buy that he was just someone in the background who she missed all this time. She was too observant to be that oblivious. He did get her to chuckle at the admittedly cute, kinda cheesy line he dropped. He was lucky though; he was pretty and southern and had enough natural charm to pull it off.

Steph chose to roll her eyes. ”That’s cute, but I reckon I haven’t been a pretty young thing in seven years.” Having Malia was the benchmark Steph placed between being a young woman and being a woman, but she was not going to mention her daughter to Jay. She did not know how many members of Syndicate knew about Malia; off the top of her head, Khalil, Gwen, and of course, Poseidon. What she did know was she wanted to keep that total minimal. ”I’d say I’m more of a fox, but I appreciate your flattery nonetheless.”

She sipped her drink and finally turned to look at Jay properly, giving him a blatant once over to reassess that, yes, he was certainly cute. ”So what do you do, sugar? Mutation and job,” she added, wondering what a guy like him was doing in a place like this.

Jay was persistent, but he wasn't a complete jerk; once he got a definite 'no,' he'd back off. But until then, he was going to keep trying. Besides, he had plenty more drinks to put in him and the night was still young. Though Jay wasn't one to give up, he did have some semblance of respect.

He chuckled lightly. "Well, you may think so, but I'm looking at a woman who's drop dead gorgeous," he replied smoothly. She looked him over, and he gladly returned the favor--like he hadn't been doing that the whole time already, but he wasn't about to pass up a legitimate excuse to.

"Kinda funny you mention foxes," he answered with a slight chuckle, "I'm a canine-shifter. Mostly dogs but I've got a wolf and a few foxes. As far as job, I don't really have a set one right now, since I'm new. I just go where I'm sent, learning a bit of everything until I find my place. But when I'm not doing this, I play bass in a band." Sure she likely wasn't referring to his 'legit' job, but the bass was sort of his trump card. When all else fails, pull out the music.

Or show off the shifting, but considering the side effect of that, the shifting was probably best saved for later.

Khalil bobbed his head as Poseidon spoke, shrugging his shoulders winsomely. Yes, yes, absolutely enjoying himself. Yes, the healer was wonderful. The feline golden eyes slid over Poseidon as he spoke, his polite smile breaking into a grin.

"Boss, you worry too much!" Khalil chided lightly, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I'm just outta sorts because the healer took care of the kid, first-" the kid, being Jay, "-I mean, I asked them to take care of the kid first. But she only took care of me part-way. I'm still sore."

Khalil tossed a wink at Poseidon, "Nothing a little more alcohol and some good company can't help."

Of course the demon caught Poseidon's drift. But he'd rather feign ignorance than confirm his recent... drop in exuberance. Khalil didn't fully understand it himself. At the mention of "a little more alcohol", Khalil lifted a rather iridescent beverage and raised it to Poseidon, as if to toast him.

"To your health, sir," he said, before taking a sip, "I'm gonna go see if I can't find some... lucky lady... to inflict myself upon."

And with that, the demon dismissed himself, his spade-tipped tail flicking and curling as he went.

>>“I mean if the Devil lowers himself to someone, you can bet they’re in charge.”

Oh how she loved the way he spoke. Her was certainly flamboyant but that wasn’t something she could count against him. It was entertaining and his word choice was intriguing. Yes, she had found her companion for the evening and eagerly she wondered what trouble they would get into.

Agnes, at least these days, was eager beaver. She knew when to be patient when it counted, but if there was the option to dive head first into something, then she was usually quick to do so. And how could she now want to roll up her sleeves and pull back the curtain here? A mysterious invitation. Surrounded by dangerous people of all types. It was exactly the satin blanket that she wanted to wrap herself up in and cuddle until she melted into a purring, blissful mess. But was now the right time? Did she really want to unveil herself to the obvious head honcho before she had some fun?

>>“Mmm...I would expect he might be appraising of our activities here, so let’s let him alone to enjoy his party while we parley with his crew...Perhaps we should rescue the two lovely young ladies from the bright blue boy? Should we need to separate I’ll gladly enjoy entertaining whichever you haven’t chosen.”

He had a point. If anything the king of the hill was observing everyone already in attendance, making mental notes of who was and wasn’t worthy of his time. Why not make his evening worthwhile? They could mingle, learn more a bit more about whatever organization this was, and sounded even more prepared for when the eventual meeting would happen. Oh yes, there was no doubt in her mind that they would gain audience with the enigmatic ruler of this little kingdom. Agnes was confident of that.

Her eyes drifted across the scene as Warlock pointed out the pair of women and the gentleman dressed in deep blue. She purred for a second, observing both feminine forms before it came to her realization that one of those women she knew very, very well. The sharp-fanged woman grinned eagerly as she started to walk along with Warlock towards them.

”Oh yes, we must,” she said teasingly. She then grinned to her companion, turning so that it appeared as if she were whispering sweet nothings into his sensitive ear. ”At it stands, one of them I happen to have some experience with.” A pause. ”Intimate experience. I would rather enjoy learning how she is doing now.”

With Warlock attached to her she moved across the floor, stopping nearby to the trio and beamed as sweet of honey to them. At a glance, the blue-adorned bombshell appeared both intriguing and quite dangerous, but it was her eyes that was almost was the most alluring. The round sapphires flitted between the trio, sparkling with interest as she spoke.

”Good evening,” she greeted them all. ”My companion and I saw you three from across the room and we simply couldn’t help but introduce ourselves.” She extended a hand out to whomever would take it. ”Agnes. And it is lovely to meet you.”

Persistence as a trait was either admirable or annoying depending on how one wielded it. The night would tell which direction Jay took things. Stephanie was shallow enough to recognize she was giving him leeway for being so goddamn pretty, but she was not some fawning young woman. He had to play his cards right to continue talking to her, and a bad hand meant she would gladly leave him there talking to himself and watching her walk away.

He did not try to call her young again, but he did double down on calling her gorgeous. She said nothing to that; she had long since mastered a smile and look that just conveyed, “I’m well aware, darling.” No one accused Steph of modesty. Vanity was part of why he was allowed to so openly look her over.

She sipped her drink, listening to him explain his role. He was definitely a low man on the totem pole, picking up the odds and ends job-wise. It made her wonder how these newbies ended up here. She was coerced with a threat, but most of the people around her seemed to be downright jovial. ”Doesn’t sound like much of a mutation to me.” She finally met his eyes with her slate greys. ”Everyone knows men are dogs already. As are musicians,” she added, meeting plenty when she was still young and working for herself.

”So, let’s assess this,” Steph began, setting down her drink. ”You’re a very handsome man, clearly. You are charming and only just barely bordering on cheesy. You can play an instrument. And you have a genuine Southern accent at your disposal, which you and I both know drives city girls wild.” She was flattering him, but her tone was clear and concise; she was just stating facts. ”All that being said, what is it about you that you don’t have some girl waiting at home.” Which was assuming, of course, there was not a girl at home he was not mentioning. See the above opinions on men and musicians.