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The Archipelago was once much more than one of the plethora of eateries that populated Gravette, at one time this particular establishment was where the rich, the powerful, the famous and those who fell under all of the above came to conduct the city's most pressing business of the day. These booths bore witness to both the rise and fall of many influential people throughout the city's storied history. Before these times of socially imposed austerity and responsibility, it was a bastion of decadent frivolity where purchasing a cup of coffee that cost more than what most folks made in a day was lauded rather than derided. To have a reservation here used to mean something, it was once a statement of one's importance. Instead of resting on its laurels this place was now a shell of its former self having given up its exclusivity years ago in order to cater to waning and waxing trends. A cautionary tale for sure. 

Kav would have never come to this nostalgia trap on his own accord as this place was filled with a lot of bougie tourists, the type who worked all year to afford second hand Louis Vuitton bags in order to brag to their coworkers at the dingy little office they slaved away in. Those that frequented here nowadays reeked of desperation, which was something that Kav found often permeated one's entire personality. This scene was so pathetic that he even refused livestream himself here as it would come off as pandering even to the type of audience he normally attracted.  He let himself sink deeper into the garish, worn leather of the booth's seats trying his best not to been seen at an establishment such as this. His disdain for places like this was more than likely the reason his rather eccentric companion insisted on dinning here. If any other person or being had extended an invitation to this place, Kav would have produced a litany of excuses on why he simply could not attend, but Knog was an exception. Knog, a satyr was one of the handful of supernaturals that Kav risked interacting with. 
The two men sitting across from each other could not be more different. Kav's is flamboyantly dressed in a silk blouse, which is open at the throat; this is complemented by velvet pants which are the color of dried currants. He is sharp angles wrapped in soft clothing; he exudes an unnatural beauty. In contrast Knog has a lecherous, alcohol-sodden, haggard appearance; he appears to be the older one of the pair by a number of years. His clothing are tattered and he is caked in what could be loosely be described as grime. Knog clearly wears his sins with pride, his libertine spirit resonates deep within his grubby core. Kav made a habit of interacting with the fashion impaired as little as possible, but much to his dismay sometimes certain skills and talents were only gifted to the unsightly.

Knog has been talking. Kav’s ear off for the past hour, they aren’t really having a conversation as there’s little reciprocation here, just Knog rambling. Kav knew better to interrupt, lest the old goat start his ranting and raving from the begining, though he was slowly losing interest in the interaction. Between sips of an unimpressive vintage Champagne Kav was preoccupied with his emery board, scratching his nails into points.

"Remember Alexandria? Ah, good times my boy. Remember, when we hoodwinked that Sphinx. Got her good, we did. Got her so good, she is probably still raging to this day bemoaning the loss of her precious treasure trove of secrets. A Sphinx who is also cat burglar, is just a succulent combination. She really had my hooves over the fire with those uh...tapes. And you know I have no great luck when it comes to riddles and other assorted whimsical trickery. You really did me a solid, I would have been finished...kaput...if the content on those tapes were leaked. Afterall, what good is a compromised information broker..."

[color=f08080]"Boring. You are boring me Knog darling and in doing so you are testing my patience. As much as I would love to sit in this rundown tourist trap and rehash our past escapades down to every minute detail, I am a very busy individual. My adoring public needs to live vicariously through me and they cannot do that if I stuck listening to you prattle on about nothing all damn day. Is there any particular purpose behind you dragging me out of bed and the arms of one my many lovers? Because, if not I going to mysteriously become alot harder to reach in the future." [/color]

Knog, pretended to be offended at Kav's comments, before retorting. "You would not dare pass me off to one of your assistants because you know full well that I would make that poor unfortunate soul's life a living hell. Since what I have to say is time sensitive, I might as well tell you now. That special someone you wanted me to track down, well I have it on good authority that he is here in the city. One of my nameless contacts in the underground clued me into that." 

Knog smirks as he produces a unique looking matchbox from his jacket pocket.  "You know matches commonly come from places like China or Russia. Not a lot of interest in importing such things from a tiny village in Bulgaria. Someone's trash can certainly say a lot about them. Don’t you think so your grace." 

Kav beamed primarily because he loved when those below him acknowledged his superior station in this world, but also at the news. He arched his eyebrow. [color=f08080]"You know for once I am actually eager to hear what you have to say. Do go on my good sir."[/color] 
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Vanja drifted for an indeterminate amount of time in the realm only know to those who succumbed to sleep or in his case unconsciousness, the realm of half formed thoughts and hazy memories. Jumbled images made their way into the forefront of his mind and the sound of words spoken yet forgotten reverberated throughout his consciousness. He pondered as many do in this state if he was indeed dead or just dreaming before succumbing to an errant memory and repeating the process ad nauseum. This state of being is only temporary and eventually Vanja was roused from his slumber and returned to the realm of the waking. For the briefest of milliseconds one awakens as a blank slate before the reality of their life up to this moment catches up to them. He certainly had a few questions with ‘Where was he’ and ‘What Happened’ being among the primary among them. Last thing he could remember was having a confrontation an alleyway in front of a dive bar. Wait was someone carrying him? It all came flooding back at this precise moment. He would have honestly preferred if they killed him instead of subjecting him to the indignity of having the brutish bodybuilder lug him around like a sack of lumpy potatoes. He could not fault them for wanting to comb his mind for information on his cohorts, smart move. 


He mulled over if he was just going to sell Harry Alberts out to these creatures. God, this was turning out to be another Kathmandu. Alberts could have warned him at breakfast that a group like his current captors was hunting in the vicinity of the café, but despite them being shockingly easy to find he doubted Alberts was looking too hard. That good-for-nothing waste of space sadist was probably distracted by hunting his own prey in this urban jungle. Though he had to wonder if Alberts set him up, perhaps he was not as stupid as he appeared to be; typical lazy coward had to have others do his dirty work. If Alberts had any honor, he would have done the dirty deed himself, well to be fair if Alberts had any honor he would not be a unrepentant serial killer. On the other hand, perhaps this was just a coincidence an unlucky coincidence stemming from his own hubris. Vanja quelled these intrusive thoughts for the moment and he tried to get his bearings.

For some strange reason he could not shake the feeling he was thrown down a flight of stairs recently despite to his knowledge only collapsing in the alleyway, also there was the all-encompassing sound of rushing water. Waterboarding was certainly a way to extract information…not accurate information, but information, nonetheless. However, if the sounds were anything to go by his captors were going a little overboard. Perhaps his eardrum was ruptured in his collapse. He pondered on the reasoning behind that earlier failure; maybe one of them had psionic or sonic abilities, he certainly seen stranger things than that occur since becoming a mercenary. He was willing to endure whatever his captors had instore for him. He would find a way to turn things back into his favor, if he had to deal with devils in the interim so be it.