[IC] Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon watched with a curious eye as Galina spoke, idly cutting a bite of salmon from the filet with the side of his fork. He chewed it slowly, meeting the Russian's gaze, answering only after he had fully swallowed.

"I have..." The fork moved down to remove another bite, though he didn't take it yet. He was thrown off by the sudden transition, a simple comment had shaken her so badly? Was it a trap? Another little needle to test his mettle? Or was it an opportunity?

"Americans are more welcoming, more... accommodating, than say, the British. It is closer to my country as well, making it the perfect place to practice english." He took the bite, gauging her reaction, the words bubbling up in his mind as his plan of action took form.

"I was in Seattle for a time, in Washington. This mission came up as I was starting to head south along the coast, and I'll likely return after we are done."

All quite true... in a technical sense. It was still something of a surprise, that she would speak so openly of Takahiro. Even if Goemon had not known of the man, such an admission was an open door for another spy to peer through. Given all she had done to test him, given the skill and aptitude she had shown, it was almost required that he press at the sudden crack- if only a little.

The Voice set his fork gently upon the plate before him, cautiously meeting the young lady's gaze.

"I... forgive me, if this goes too far just say so. But part of my hope tonight is that we each leave with a higher opinion of the other's country." Any opening to indebt Galina to him had to be pressed. In essence, Goemon was no longer needed for this mission, Galina knew enough to take over herself if she wished. Oh, he would object of course, but even if she did go along with him, what guarantee was there that she would ever choose to reciprocate the favor? Insurance was needed, some way to salvage a hint of honor from this botched mission.

At least, that's what he would think if actually needing her help for this mission. So that is what he thought, fully committed to the act Takahiro required him to play.

"Would you like at all, to further make that man's acquaintance?" Galina didn't expect him to know Takahiro, and indeed, Goemon shouldn't know him. But knowledge was a great weapon to a spy, and the time it would take to find a Samurai in the states was well worth the insurance. "From what you said, he sounds much like those who left my country to become students of the world. If so, he may still be in America, and not hard to find... do you know his clan name- his surname? It would all-but point you to him."

He picked up his fork once more, taking another bite and watching Galina with curious eyes. He wasn't sure if he doubted she'd take the bait, or if he expected her to, but he had to try. And it was certainly true what he said. If she wished, he would lead her right to Souma Takahiro.

Even if she didn't wish it, actually. And far, far sooner than she might expect.

[Igraine]

[[Nyet.]]

The single word was spoken simply, calmly, without the musicality of Galina's matchless voice or the silken charm of Goemon's. But that one word cut through the mutual spell woven by these two spies like a white hot blade through butter.

The elder woman sat up a touch straighter in her chair, gathering all the dignity of her many years about her like regal robes as she smiled kindly to the young Japanese man. "This is no reflection on your most kind offer Mr. Goemon," Klara began almost gently, her fork perched lightly between fingers and thumb, "But I am afraid my dear Galina did not provide you with a proper introduction when you joined us."

Our dear Galina seems to have left out quite a bit more than a right introduction tonight. Far, far more that she confided in neither family nor friends...

"Galina Demidova is, after all, the Baronessa Demidova." Klara reached over the table to playfully tap at one of the young woman's hands, as if the old nursemaid lovingly chastised a wayward child. Merciful heaven, but she had not grown so old or insensate as to miss the signs, even in a child grown so apt at deception as the precious babe she once cradled in her arms.

Something dark, something vicious and eminently dangerous flared in the younger woman's eyes, an unreasoning fury almost immediately tamped down - a rage that could only have been extinguished by the loving touch of her dear, wise friend. Rather, a wide and lovely smile spread across her face as she turned toward Goemon with a small nod of her head, quietly and respectfully affirming all that the elder woman spoke.

"Our beloved Galina often leaves off her title, thinking it might seem... Well... Pretentious, I imagine," Klara continued, as if she had not noticed in the least the bared fangs of the wolf sitting beside her. "Even so, you may be unfamiliar with the ways of Russian nobility. I fear it would be most... Unseemly, for a noblewoman to go searching after some strange man she only just met in passing. Even by proxy."

And the storm unleashed by Galina's brothers... Oh God have mercy on us all - by her father! Klara shuddered imperceptibly, though she still managed to keep that same sweet smile on her lips. The towering rage of the Baron Demidov, to discover his beloved Galina's first affections may have been given to a foreigner - and to a man of no particular birth or note at that? After the endless slew of noble sons she had spurned with no more than a dismissive toss of her head? After the platoons of fine Don Cossack officers Galina insisted she would only embrace as brothers-in-arms?

No, it simply did not bear thinking on.

The young woman squeezed Klara's hand lightly, unspoken gratitude combined easily with a reassurance she no longer needed her beloved nursemaid to set her right. Whatever madness might have let her be seduced by Goemon's sweetly tempting words had passed, and the spy was herself once more.

"I meant no deception, Mr. Goemon, but I fear my dear friend has the right of our circumstances. Your offer is most kind and at the very least, I certainly do accept the spirit in which it was given. You do your country no disservice at all. You do tempt me of course - the company of Takahiro Souma was a genuine joy."

"But no, it would be most inappropriate and, I imagine, he would remember precious little of me at any rate. His society was far more memorable than my poor efforts, of course."

Besides, the drug she had spiked his champagne with was very well-known for its short-term amnesiac properties.

Galina sighed softly, nodding to the waiter who appeared at her elbow to clear her half-eaten meal away. "So Mr. Goemon, shall we enjoy dessert and coffee, or should we be on to meet with our soon-to-be mutual friend, Mr. Slevin? I admit, I have little enough appetite tonight, but I would not dream of dragging anyone from all the courses of such a delicious meal."

"Or, perhaps, will Mr. Slevin be joining us then? That should be a pleasant enough way to end a wonderful dinner, and the start of an equally productive night."

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon bowed as low as he could, being seated beside the two ladies at their table.

"My apologies." For a moment, his eyes hung solely on the older Klara, the woman who until now had remained silent and apart from their little conversation. It seemed, despite appearances, that Galina was not entirely in charge, her counterpart ready to step forwards should the desire catch her fancy. At this point, it wasn't really an issue -it seemed Galina had fully bitten the bait laid out for her- but the information remained interesting nonetheless.

He wouldn't be trapping the young lady with his words anytime soon.

But his true task only became more appetizing.

It was hard, but Goemon kept his features contrite and apologetic. Pretentious indeed, and such a focus on appearances! Oh no, despite the differences in their cultures, all that Klara said only affirmed to Goemon that there was quite little to be unfamiliar of. Nobility was nobility, despite the country, despite the culture. The Voice would never question his master's apparent fixation on Galina since the party back at the Winchester Estate. But this? Coaxing in those well-used to their lofty titles, leading them to humiliating revelation? Oh yes, this was something very familiar, something very welcome.

Just a little longer.

Goemon eyed the fish before him for a moment, then shrugged. "It seems I should have requested it raw. Mr. Selvin should be within his quarters belowdecks by now, I can show you to him whenever you would like... He truly does prefer to keep to himself most of the time, and the idea of eating up here-" He paused a moment to look around the room filled with it's gaudy occupants. "-seemed to discomfort him, so I did not press him on that."

~-~-~

Kneeling comfortably upon the floor of Mr. Selvin's small -but private- quarters near the bottom of the ship, Souma enjoyed a simple meal to himself. Raw fish was delicately sliced and rested on rolled rice, laid out before him on a low wooden bench standing just before his knees. A ceramic bottle stood at one corner, occasionally used to fill one of the two small ceramic cups with a clear liquid.

Souma sipped the cool sake and nibbled away at his food with easy patience, knowing eventually what would come to pass. Daisuke knew how to reach the upper levels without being seen, avoiding the common halls that Goemon would use to descend. Mr. Selvin had ended up more than willing to leave with the Fist, well-bribed by the allure of kind weather, eager students and his own small boat. The knowledge they gained from the older engineer wouldn't be that much, most likely, but it was something, and would give those samurai who had been too proud to leave their country someone to learn from as soon as they realized how obsolete they had truly became.

Of course, small gains aside, this little mission would be the one where Souma could meet the young Galina Demidova again. The lady who's company had charmed him so before, right up until she left him sleeping within the room he had meant to rob.

He never did get to see her off that night. A lapse in politesse he would be sure to correct this evening.

[Igraine]

Galina laughed, nodding her head slowly with approval. She watched the young man's gaze, assessing her nursemaid and old friend with new eyes. This was a thing she liked to see, this thoughtfulness. If she must leave Klara with this man, he should know the elder woman was no shrinking violet herself. There had been no lie to her earlier words, when she said the Baron Demidov had a always had a way with the vicious and intractable. Not even the family's nursemaids were entirely without teeth and claws of their own. Let him beware...

... Because neither Goemon's apologetic words nor demeanor were true, of course. Oh this young man was a consummate professional, without a single, solitary doubt. For the space of no more than a moment, she had let her guard down, and Goemon had pressed - as, of course, he should.

Only a complete fool would not.

His was an agile mind, armed with deftly-wielded words and a nimble voice. Galina had been inexcusably stupid, and she knew this all too well. There was no good excuse for this lapse in judgment though there were, of course, many reasons she could easily enumerate: unrelieved loneliness, with neither mother nor sister nor trustworthy lady friend in whom to confide; a ridiculous, girlish fantasy left to run amok in the otherwise orderly, pristine halls of her mind; a man whose conversation she genuinely enjoyed, whose face held the vaguest resemblance, to the one she would truly prefer to see this night...

Not a one of these "reasons" was sufficient to keep the self-disgust tamped down in her gut, the bitter taste like bile in the back of her throat.

She was absolutely ridiculous. She was an idiot. Galina was done with this dinner.

"No need for apologies, Mr. Goemon," she replied, returning his seated bow politely and gracefully, "Quite the opposite, actually."

"And I am sure Klara will be glad to remind you to coordinate with the ship's chef, and order your fish left uncooked for the remainder of this ocean voyage." Galina glanced to Klara with a sweet smile that never reached her dark eyes. In turn, Klara nodded her agreement with the young lady's reassurances that Goemon's fish dishes at least, for the rest of this cruise, would be as unspeakably rare as he could possibly wish, if she had a single thing to say on the matter.

"But if you give me the choice?" Galina continued, with a small apologetic shrug of her shoulders, as if she were helpless to stop the words that followed. "I hope you do not think me too rude of course, or forward, but I would prefer to meet with Mr. Selvin this very moment."

Galina dabbed lightly at her lips with her napkin, even though there was hardly a need when she'd eaten precious little of this meal at any rate. Still, there were appearances to be preserved, before both the diners aboard the Empress and, of course, her fellow spy. Laying the napkin down lightly alongside her still-full plate, she rose to her feet, pushing her chair back.

"I must return to my rooms and retrieve a few items before we meet with our mutual friend," she said, holding the back of Klara's chair as she rose before turning back to Goemon, still smiling. "Would you care to accompany us, or shall I meet you elsewhere before we finally speak with Mr. Slevin?"

[Derren Krenshaw]

"This very moment works just fine with me, Miss Demidova."

Goemon offered both ladies a polite smile and second bow, setting his silver down and pushing the plate slightly away from him. Mimicking Galina's own movements, he dabbed what residue might be left upon his lips with his own napkin, and rose after both Ladies had stood, offering for them to go first.

He worked hard to keep from seeming eager, to remain as calm and methodical as he had been since first approaching the two Ladies. Finally he was almost there. It wasn't time to celebrate yet, wasn't time to ease up yet, but it was getting close. That thought alone was a balm to the Voice of Takahiro, to finally be able to see the ending his boss had been looking towards the whole time.

"I would like to take your invitation to accompany you, if that is all right." It struck him as wise to give the two an excuse to keep an eye on him... and the reverse was true as well. There was little more suspicious than a spy trying to get alone, so simple gallantry seemed the best option. "And when you are ready, I can bring you straight down to Mr. Selvin's room, will that work?"

[Igraine]

"I would not have asked, Mr. Goemon, if it were not," Galina replied smoothly, perhaps a touch colder than was necessary though that smile remained in place, exactly just so.

The corridors of the Empress were not wide, and so the women remained arm-in-arm as they walked almost leisurely to the ladies' state rooms, while Goemon oh-so-gallantly fell behind them, their attentive and charming escort down the hallways. And so, the conversation to their room was necessarily short, though unfailingly polite, the masquerade of camaraderie and ease a simple enough affectation. Any number of passers-by would be taken with the impression of a most interesting and exotic trio of people, comfortable and quite content in the interest of their own company. One might even be forgiven for imagining that these three had been long and fast friends for many long and happy years now.

The rooms themselves were sumptuous, with all the comforts that the more well-heeled of the Empress' guests would have considered a necessity during their travels. Amidst this Western luxury, the velvet-covered sofas and the marble-topped tables, the tray of delicate chocolates and the gilded lamps, the fresh flowers and the leather-bound books left in the sitting room, the two women took their short leave of Mr. Goemon to wait while the pair retired to their boudoir.

Galina and Klara exchanged few words before she left the rooms - there was no need. Not yet. This was only a meeting with their contact after all. The details of their final departure from the Empress would be fully outlined and relayed to the Baron Demidov before she ever left the ship, and Klara would begin the outline of that missive while she met with Slevin. The details of course, of departure and retrieval, names and dates, coordinates of latitude and longitude, would be better filled in when Galina returned.

For now, it was enough that Klara aided Galina in changing her clothing, the emerald green and gold dinner dress exchanged for a far less brilliant and eye-catching dress of dark grey and ebony. And though all seemed most proper and right about her dress, sleek and streamlined, the younger woman still slipped her kindjal into a boot sheath crafted especially for her traditional weapon; the Colt .45 was strapped to the opposite side, holstered at her thigh and all well hidden beneath the crinoline of her skirt. The juxtaposition of ancient and modern, the Old World and the New, managed to bring a small, genuine smile to her lips, however short-lived. The shashka still packed in her trunk would have given her no small amount of satisfaction, reassurance even, but there was simply no carrying that blade without notice...

Galina sighed softly as Klara fussed over making that last bit of preening of her beloved little girl just, tucking a more stubborn tendril of deep brown hair back into the sweeping cascade of plaited and pinned up in the back of her head. Quickly she took the elder woman's fingers in her own hand, kissing them tenderly before she stood and went to meet the spy waiting in their shipboard parlor.

"Shall we, Mr. Goemon?" Galina asked, her musical voice piping with an anticipation she forced herself to believe, would be genuine soon enough. Her misstep during their dinner had thrown her, in large part for the fact that she had somehow managed to sabotage herself, even for the space of a few moments. Galina's own thoughts had betrayed her, however well she hoped the recovery of her dignity and professionalism may have played out, and that was the most disconcerting aspect of those entirely mortifying moments.

Galina slipped her arm into Goemon's with a nod of her head toward the door - and beyond that, the hallway, and the long-anticipated meet with the mysterious defector Slevin.

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Certainly, Miss Demidova."

Goemon accepted Galina's arm easily, moving alongside the Lady Spy on their way towards the lower decks. There wasn't much space for 'back ways' aboard the Empress, and what few there were would hardly be known to the carefree guests aboard. So the pair took one of the common ways down, meeting only few who had likewise left the dinner early, or hadn't attended to begin with. Rare and rarer still as they continued on, until not even the footsteps of others could be heard.

They spoke little, but it wasn't necessary at this point. To those few who might have passed by, they were one of many couples -albeit more exotic than most- out to enjoy the cruise together. It was a ruse Goemon was content to commit to... as much as it took for appearances, at least. But to the those aboard, appearances were everything, weren't they?

"Just a little further, his room is the last one on the hall."

The hall in question stretched back to the stern of the ship, as if trying to reach the sea itself. One of the lowest decks, the pitch and pull of the massive vessel was felt more strongly here than anywhere else, so close to the keel. Even the Empress could not completely ignore the swell of waves that struck her sides or rolled beneath her, and while Goemon felt at home in the narrow, subtly shifting corridors, he made sure to keep an eye on the Lady. It wouldn't do to allow such a woman to lose her balance, of course, or to succumb to sea sickness.

Not that one such as Galina was likely to do either. A spy of her caliber would either be far too experienced to be unnerved by the shifting ship... or far too composed to let such weakness show.

Finally, they reached the end of the hall, Goemon extricating himself from Galina to take one step closer to the door. Reaching out, it rapped his knuckles sharply against the heavy steel. Once, pause, then twice more in succession.

"There we go, he should be expecting us now." Reaching for the latch, he pulled the door wide, bowing slightly as he swept his free hand before him. "After you, my lady."

~-~-~

Takahiro finished his meal quickly, but remained content to stay seated, ever-so-slowly sipping from his own shallow cup. His staff rested on the ground behind the low table, end close enough to reach should he need to rise, but otherwise out of the way.

He pondered many things in the time allowed to him. What this night might mean, what importance his continuing mission still held, what his 'superiors' -or more importantly, his father- might think if they discovered this little 'aside'. Some might understand the strive to regain some measure of honor lost... but only some. To the rest? Well, it would be surprising if they thought he had any honor to lose.

Such was the fate of a glorified criminal. A lifetime of smuggling, bribery, extortion and more might have allowed Takahiro and his clan to rise to a rank equal to the Samurai their country so hated yet revered, but only the hatred seemed to have come with that ascension. To the true Samurai, he and his own were less than people, doubly so for having the 'shame' to claim themselves equal to the warrior-scholars. To the nobility, he and his own were a tool to use, one to be thrown away the moment it was no longer needed, just as they were doing with the Samurai themselves. And to the common folk, he was either a relic of the past abusing position for whatever liberties he could take, or a petty thug who happened to make good with the right dirty noble.

It wasn't a winning scenario by any means... but when had it ever been?

Tonight would likely be the same, but for once the thought didn't bother Takahiro in the least. Tonight, petty as it might be, unwise as it might be, he was a leader in the only way his clan knew how to lead: by making it clear that if you wanted to insult or injure one of their own... you had better be ready to expect retribution.

And so he remained calm, looking up only when the knocks on the door told him Goemon had arrived. He kept his composure calm as the door swung open, and moved only when he saw Galina step into view, raising the ceramic jug of sake up for her to see.

"Missu Demidova- a pleasure!" He smiled brightly towards the woman, as if he had just happened to stumble upon the one he had been searching for, ever since that wonderful night at the Winchesters. "Please! Sit, have drink!"

[Igraine]

Galina nodded curtly but politely, still vaguely smiling, her face placid and smooth as she followed Goemon's proffered gesture into Slevin's small room. She wondered for a moment - but only for a moment - at his strangely formal address of "my lady." Surely, there would be no need for such politesse here of all places, in the bowels of the ship before no one who could possibly care about such niceties?

But in truth, Galina's concerns were a touch too immediate for much in depth reflection. On the upper levels, the rolling of the sea was near imperceptible in closed confines like the dining room - and it was positively invigorating during a stroll about the open decks. But here in these close confines her balance was confounded, her stomach just beginning to rebel and roll along with the waves she could feel easily beneath her feet, but without the orientation the sight of those waves would give her senses.

In short, Galina was fighting the nauseating beginnings of seasickness, and doing her damndest to hide it.

The relief she felt when Goemon opened the door was near palpable as she swallowed back the rising bile in the back of her throat. She only prayed that Slevin's quarters would have a chair, a bench, something - anything really - where she could -

"Missu Demidova - a pleasure! Please! Sit, have drink!"

Galina recognized his voice an instant before she could truly see the man before her, relaxed and smiling. Perhaps it was the traditional robes of his home nation that caught her off guard, rather than the well-tailored Western suit he had worn last she saw him - but no matter. Every last delicate and lovingly tended daydream she had ever harbored, each sweetly girlish fantasy she had dwelled over in the blessed privacy of her happier thoughts lay smashed like wispy sculptures of blown glass beneath a sledgehammer.

All the blood drained from that lovely face in an instant, her deathly pale visage was suddenly without a single mask to hide the emotion beneath the flesh. Not much more than wide, horrified eyes and lips fallen open in shock, a mortified "O," Galina gasped softly, staggering back a step as if she'd been struck.

Fool.

Galina shook her head swiftly, as if she could somehow dispel the sight before her. Every last exchange at the Winchester House, once lovingly, wistfully, dwelled upon in exquisite detail and likely embellished in the sunlight of burgeoning affection, was suddenly shadowed with all the realizations her arrogance and ambition had not allowed her to see at the time...

Damned fool...

Galina did not scream, or shout, or cry for help - what would be the point? She'd let herself be lured into one of the most isolated parts of this ship, a wolf following the scent of fresh meat to the trap.

But she hadn't been caught - not yet. Nor had her fangs been torn away. Galina threw her elbow into Goemon's gut with a snarl, whirling toward the open door in a single fluid movement, bending low to snatch the kindjal from its sheath as she made to bolt into the hallway.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon knew he would have to watch for any action Galina might take. This was the end of it all, and someone of her caliber was unlikely to take it lying down. As the closer one to her, he would have to be quick to react if it came down to it, and he knew that fact without a doubt.

Yet still, after so long pulling strings and planting bribes, after a day of making sure everything would work, after a night of fast-paced conversation trying to remain one step ahead of his better... Goemon fell lax. His discipline slipped, smile widening as Galina took a moment to stare dumbly at Takahiro seated before her, allowing himself a moment of pleasure long denied.

And he paid for it with an elbow, swiftly delivered to the center of his chest.

He saw it coming at the last moment, immediately began moving, trying to lessen the impact and grab Galina's arm in the process. He succeeded -somewhat- in the first, sent stumbling back only a couple steps, staggered but still standing.

Takahiro, however, had plenty of time to prepare, to compose himself for whatever might happen. He watched Galina carefully from the moment she appeared, predator observing prey, and reacted the instant he realized her choice.

As Galina threw her elbow into Goemon beside her, Takahiro was moving. Dropping the jar and snatching his cane from the floor, he stepped over the low table in the first of a series of rapid bounds. No limp was present in his leg now, the cane drawn back beside him, one hand gripping an end to point the other out in front. He surged forwards as Galina moved away, crossing distance quickly and, as soon as he saw he was close enough, driving that cane forwards as if it were his own fist.

If the cane had truly been of bamboo, it would have bent, had sprung away with barely any harm done. But it's exotic, wooden shell concealed heavy steel that did not bend, that instead drove into Galina's back, shoving her into the wall and allowing Takahiro the time he needed to fully catch up.

"Please- Sit." Stepping forwards, Takahiro grabbed her by the shoulder, releasing the pin only to pull her back and shove her into the room she had tried to escape. He stepped in behind, Goemon finally coming to his senses and shutting the door, leaving the two master spies -Russian and Japanese- alone in the quarters.

"Have drink." He repeated again, pausing with a frown as he regarded the spilled bottle of sake and disrupted table. Staff -for it was more that than cane, truly- held at the ready, he stood in front of the closed door, watching for Galina's next move. "Or not. Try running again?"

[Igraine]

Galina whirled on Souma, recovering her footing easily from the shove, grey skirts whirling about her legs and the kindjal still in her grip. She was furious: furious with herself for traipsing so easily into this deception designed just especial for her, furious with the humiliation and the hurt and her abject failure in most every possible way, from the moment she boarded the Empress. Her teeth bared in a feral snarl, Galina's eyes narrowed with dangerous promise as she took up an oft-practiced stance, the kindjal held at the ready. Tendrils of long dark hair had fallen about her face, slipped from their confines in the brief struggle and only lending to the impression of a wild animal backed into a corner.

Obviously the "cane" was far more than it seemed - and Souma was most assuredly neither lame nor crippled as she had once believed. Goemon closed the door behind him in his hasty departure and, assumedly, secured it as well. The "cane" - or whatever the hell it was - gave Souma the advantage in reach, even in these closed quarters - though Galina was loathe to admit as much.

'If he wanted you dead, you would already be... '

The young woman blinked, a lifetime of iron discipline suddenly animating her every move as she took a single, deep breath. Galina swallowed the rising nausea that threatened, born of the surge of adrenaline combined with the burgeoning seasickness she'd battled before she even entered the room. She found a small point of pride, that her hand barely shook at all when she stood to her full height from the fighting stance, and showed the kindjal almost ceremoniously to Souma. With just as little fanfare, she bent to sheath the long dagger back beneath her skirts. For a brief moment, Galina thought she might yet grab the pistol, but she did not like the odds on distance and the obviously expert way that Souma held the cane.

Instead, she simply stood once more and, turning her back to Souma, walked sedately toward the small table on the floor. Nimbly, she settled to the floor in a perfect circle of skirts that resembled nothing so much as the bloom of some somber grey foliage, her legs folded beneath her .

"I will not run." Galina righted the upended jug that, she noted, still contained a good deal of whatever liquid it was meant to hold.

"But please do not allow your man to harm my traveling companion. She is truly no more than she seems, an old woman who can bring you no trouble. Klara does not know your face, much less imagine that you are here. She has only heard your name once, at dinner... "

She grimaced at the memory, her face flushing with embarrassment, knowing very well just how tempted she had been to see Goemon locate this wistful facade of Takahiro Souma she had so meticulously crafted in her head. Galina could not look at him for the moment, and so her nimble hands put the tray back to right, neatly reordering the small cups that had been so precisely laid out upon it. He and Goemon could have a grand laugh over her ridiculous, girlish naivete later if they wished - that was the least of Gaina's worries. It was far too late to pretend that her old nursemaid meant nothing to her, to give Klara the protection of feigned indifference, and she did not even bother with the attempt.

"And she could not possibly make any connection to you." Her small task accomplished, the tray as symmetrically composed as she could make it, Galina's hands were folded neatly in her lap once more. "Please. Only do this, and I will give you no more trouble."

[Derren Krenshaw]

Takahiro watched Galina carefully, for a while not moving in the slightest himself. He noted her motions as she sat down where he had been only moments before, carefully re-organizing the settings he had so recently disturbed. He listened to her words, recognized the subtle twitches and rising flush without making motion of his own. He watched a moment longer as she finished talking. Then, finally, he moved himself.

"No worry." He spoke softly, stepping forwards to seat himself across the table from Galina. He rested his staff nearby, end resting just on the table's edge, ready to grab should the need arise. Reaching for the jug, his features softened somewhat when he realized how much still remained, and began to pour. "Just want to talk. If goes well, we leave, you and Klara stay, no one's hurt..."

"...More than already." Filling both cups, Takahiro took the closer one to his lips, drawing a small sip before placing it before Galina and taking the other for himself. His eyes fell meaningfully to her shoulder, though he stopped himself just before asking if his strike from earlier had done anything lasting. It wasn't the time or scenario for concern.

And she would likely take it for taunting at this point, anyways.

"Our...conversation before, was cut short. But had to be, didn't it?" A small sigh escaped his lips, Takahiro taking the moment to take a slightly longer sip than before from his cup. "We wanted same thing, then. Didn't we?"

[Igraine]

"Yes, it would seem so."

Galina would have liked very much not to worry, as Souma seemed to wish to reassure her. Though her expression was as serene as that of a lovely carved church Madonna, that solemn, dark-eyed gaze watched him intently as he took a sip of the drink he poured from the once up ended jug, and then placed it before her. The irony of his reassurance he would not poison her, was not lost in the least on Galina.

No, not in the least. Not any more than his meaningful glance to her shoulder, the one he'd used to pin her like a butterfly to a board with his "cane." No one would be hurt if all "goes well." But Galina was a proud woman, and though her shoulder ached fiercely, the pain only compounding the nausea in her gut? She steadfastly maintained her long-accustomed poise, reaching for the small cup Souma offered with that same arm -

- Though she cradled the cup in both hands when she sat back, lifting it to her lips with her fingertips as she took a sip, the same as Souma. The drink was dry, just a little sweet, rather like a white wine but... Not. Certainly not vodka, though it was very good nonetheless. And the slight burn of alcohol, with its little warm fingerlings, was very much a relief - though not one she would indulge. She took one more, longer sip, and then set the cup back down to the cradle of her hands, nestled atop her skirts.

"You appear to have gone to a great deal of trouble and expense to bring me here. Getting through the layers of Russian security and intelligence to request my presence specifically... Impressive. I give you that." Galina never once thought, simply was not near so vain, as to imagine she alone could be the reason for so much bother, the coordination and the staggering sums it would have taken to arrange her personal arrival aboard the Empress.

She sighed softly, her gaze not wavering from Souma's own dark eyes for a moment. She shook her head slowly. "But if you believe I can retrieve the schematics from the Winchester home, you are mistaken. Those are long since turned over, and I could not lay hands on them again if I wished it. Not to save my life, nor Klara's."

[Derren Krenshaw]

Takahiro nodded along with Galina's words, seemingly unconcerned with the news.

"Expected, but needed to ask." He kept his gaze fixed on Galina's own, returning her favor of not choosing to look away. He spoke slowly, deliberately, one hand idly tipping the cup in it's grasp. Sake swirled within, reaching up to the very edge time and time again, only for Takahiro to reverse direction, and keep it contained. His free hand remained close by his staff, resting easily on the table, in plain sight but ready to move.

"Though, could be a lie..." He paused his idle swirling to bore through Galina's eyes, judging her posture for a moment before shaking his head. "No, not to risk Klara." His shoulders shrugged at the though, dismissing the news entirely. "Selvin enough, then."

Takahiro took another sip from his cup, savoring the flavor, the sweetness that could only come from the rice of his homeland. Part of him wondered if it would have been more fitting, to have brought a sample of Galina's home liqour as well, but it passed before long. It might have made the Russian Lady more comfortable, but then that wasn't the heart of this matter.

Despite Takahiro's own desire to finish the conversation he had started at the Winchester mansion. Despite everything that had gone into this mission, everything done to bring Galina here, it remained a very Japanese kind of task.

A very family task. Sake was truly the only drink for the occasion.

"If don't mind, a question?" Lowering his cup to set it gently upon the table, Takahiro took advantage of the newly-freed hand to make a brief, all-encompassing gesture. "Tonight, my plan but... Goemon's work, most. Did well, Goemon? In professional opinion- any, big mistakes?"

[Igraine]

"Are you being serious?"

Galina's brow wrinkled in stupefied confusion, her mouth falling open just a little as she regarded Souma for several long moments. She ran his words over and over again through her head and... Yes. Yes, Takahiro Souma had just asked her to rate his underling's performance.

He really did.

She began to laugh. Galina laughed because God in Heaven above knew, she just could not stop herself. That laughter did not even begin quietly. Oh no, far from it. Laughter slipped past her lips, high and sweet with a warm musicality that said nothing more nor less, than this was Galina's own genuine mirth.

Galina set the cup she'd held in her lap back to the table, half afraid she might yet spill some on her skirts. And with her fingertips, still catching her breath, she dabbed at the tears of laughter that had begun to spill down her cheeks.

"Forgive me, I... I just... " Galina cleared her throat, meeting Souma's gaze with that still incredulous smile. "That was very much the last thing I thought you to ask of me." She folded her hands in her lap gracefully, fingers interlaced and still.

"Well then, an honest appraisal of your man, in my professional opinion. I must admit, my presence here might be the most obvious assessment of Goemon's abilities. So no, of course there were no 'big mistakes.' Well, certainly at least none greater than my own. Wouldn't you agree?"

Galina sighed, her breath fully caught now, and still smiling despite the words . "But I fear it was Goemon's smaller mistakes that could have cost him his life. I see now, he was genuinely enjoying the anticipation of bringing me here - my comeuppance I suppose, for denying you the theft of the schematics. It was his desire to witness my... Surprise? My horror? My abject humiliation, better yet?"

She shook her head, only one corner of her mouth tilted upward now. "It was that desire that nearly killed him. Goemon should have been quicker to the door. There should have been no opening at all for me to bolt, at the time of your... 'Unveiling.' Because if he were only a little slower, and I a little faster?"

Galina shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "If that were so, then Goemon's throat would be opened up right now, and he'd be bleeding out on your floor - or rather, he would be dead by this time, I imagine."

"Your man needs to understand, it is good to enjoy your work. To take pride even, in a job well done - and he certainly did do what you set him to do, very well. But it is foolish to gloat when your quarry is not thoroughly snared and put down."

[Derren Krenshaw]

Takahrio smiled in the wake of Galina's mirth, lips widening all the more as that lilting, singsong voice continued to laugh all the more. This, just now, sitting at a low table with a cup of sake and good company, was nice. For a moment, the Japanese spy was back at the Winchester house once more, talking with the charming woman from Russia who had just happened to appear at his side.

Finally. He had managed to find that moment once more... so that he could now close the door.

His smile waned to one more polite as Galina's mirth died, hand raising the cup to conceal his lips as she began to speak. Only a simple nod waved away her apology, a welcome but unnecessary gesture. She had nothing to apologize for, in truth. The slights she had committed had long been forgiven, only the final, clinging memories left to now be brushed away. No, there was no need to wring an apology from Galina, no reason to take revenge or prove a point.

Now, everything was purely, strictly professional.

"Good advice. My hope he has learned some, already." Takahiro lowered his cup to the table once more, gaze settling easily on the Russian spy across from him. Slowly, his lips curled, until what bared his teeth was more grin than smile. "But advice, not for Goemon, is it? Think I am gloating, yes?"

Leaning back slightly, Takahiro spread his arms in an inviting gesture to accompany his next words, something dangerous glinting in his eye.

"If wrong, correct... but please, speak candid. We have some time, any more you wish say?"

[Igraine]

One dark eyebrow cocked in genuine surprise, her head tilted curiously as she regarded Souma's strangely wolfish grin with renewed interest. Oh surely there was something dangerous written there, and Galina could read that threat as well as any. But she was truly amazed at the words he spoke, and she did little to hide that fact.

"I was speaking candidly, Mr. Takahiro. Granted, considering my given skill set, it would only be prudent to greet my ever word with a good deal of suspicion. But yes, I will correct you there - I was not implying you were gloating - or at the very least, that you certainly would not have good cause to do so if you wished."

Galina lifted the cup to her lips, taking a long pull of the strange wine within before setting the mostly empty cup on the table once more, looking to Souma expectantly. "And I do not say so, because I feel threatened by you or what you might do to me here. Oh, I will grant you my shoulder will be sore for some days to come... "

She rolled her aching shoulder meaningfully, a self-deprecating little smile tilting the corner of her lips - the words that followed were no boast. "But you have lost the element of surprise, and I am not helpless. I have no reason to lie, unless you are waiting for me to beg for my life? No? Ah well, always best to ask I suppose..."

As for whether she had any more to say tonight? Galina very nearly burst into laughter all over again though she did not, only her shoulders rising and falling gently as she shook her head. The things she could not - would not - say, could fill entire libraries. The spy was contented to see the pall fall over Souma's expression, that dearly-remembered smile he wore at the Winchester mansion turned cold and distant, filled only with the promise that this was now no more than a meeting between two consummate professionals that would quickly enough come to a close with no need for bloodshed.

But the woman within the spy wept silently in the shadows of her soul, mourning the loss of something precious - even if that something never existed in the first place.

"No, I have nothing more to say, though I do have a few questions, if you would indulge me?" Galina's dark eyes returned to the jug and her near empty cup. "What is the name of this... Wine is it? What is it called - and may I have a touch more? It is rather nice actually."

And while she waited for Souma to refill her cup - or not, as he would, he was technically her host after all - Galina's sweetly musical voice continued on with her questions. "I simply must know as well, how is it you remember me after you woke? The drug I put into your champagne is well known for its amnesiac properties - and yet, here I am. That is truly perplexing."

"Which leads me directly to the biggest question of them all. Why am I here? Why would you ever go to the trouble and expense of bringing me aboard the Empress? Was it to gloat - did I have you wrong there? I admit, I would be sorely disappointed if that were true, so I am truly hoping there might yet be some greater reason than that."

"Because for a certainty, you did not intend to see those schematics again. You dismissed the possibility far too quickly for that to be your true intent. So why?"

[Derren Krenshaw]

"Sake." Takahiro said simply, reaching over to grab the jug. He proceeded to fill both cups as he spoke, first Galina's, then his own. "Drink from home. Not wine, made different."

He punctuated his words with another sip from his now-filled cup, savoring the taste of his homeland. Sake meant a lot to Takahiro, it meant a lot to his entire clan. Illegal breweries, smuggled barrels, 'tax' on drinks in gambling houses, the drink brought life to his family in more than just spirit. In a way it was unbelievable, that he could drink it so casually now, so far away from his country. But that was merely a testament to how far his family had come already.

And they would go further. Much, much further.

"For drug..." He placed the cup back on the table, grinning once more. "Familiar with effects. Noticed it early in drink, played drugged, worked to not forget." He raised a finger to tap it against his temple briefly. "Forgot some still. But remember most of night, up to drink, being drugged, losing goal, enough. Didn't check to see if drunk much, did you?"

He paused a moment to raise an eyebrow towards Galina, before shrugging his own gesture off and continuing.

"Last, why..." He pondered the question for a moment, as if he had never wondered 'why' before. Finally, he spoke, gesturing first towards the closed door behind them. "Because I needed test Goemon? He learns well, but always needs training..."

Takahiro paused to ponder again, then gestured towards himself. "Because I needed learn about spies? Bad to get caught again, need learn more about Russians."

Finally, he took a moment to sip from his cup once more, downing the liquid held within entirely before placing it down. He leaned forward, then, eyes boring into Galina's own as his voice dropped low.

"Or because you need know something; I do not like competing- family does not like competing. We have goals, have tasks, have plans. They happen in everywhere, but I am in America. Others get in way once? Fine. But need be warned... Will not like second time."

Takahiro leaned back once more, regarding Galina with something close to contempt in his eye. "Not everything need 'greater reason'. Some reasons great enough: Family, pride, honor. Threaten those? Money isn't problem, time isn't problem, trouble isn't problem."

Taking hold of his cane, Takahiro rose, voice rising to match. "Keep Demidov family out of America coast. Keep away from my territory. Brought you here to give message- now you have it."

[Igraine]

Galina's face was stone, hard and impassive where her foolish heart had not been. She did not flinch when Souma leaned forward, glaring at her with something very like disgust in his face. She would not allow a moment of this time to escape her. Galina knew she needed the memory of Souma's face, the contempt he did nothing to hide, seared into her mind's eye.

Her dark eyes no more than cold chips of onyx, she watched Souma rise, her gaze never once falling away as he spoke. She listened intently to each of his words, every last one falling like a razor-sharp blades on what was left of her tender, aching soul.

She hoped they would scar, every last slice of those cruel blades. Galina must learn this lesson, and let the scars serve to remind her should she ever be tempted to such girlish, ridiculous foolishness again. She needed these scars. She needed to run the fingers of her mind over them, again and again, ugly and gnarled, and never forget the true price of naivete.

Galina took the cup of sake in her hand, downing the newly-filled contents of the drink with a swift, sure tilt of her head before setting it down on the tray once more. A slow, wide and magnificent smile slid across her features, a heartbreakingly beautiful sight that, unfortunately, never stood a chance of thawing the dangerous black ice of her eyes.

"I see. You are quite right, Takahiro Souma." Galina's voice had never been more spectacularly melodious, the grace and poise as she rose to her feet a lyrical feast for the eyes as she moved. "What you do not know about Russians is vast."

Slowly, sedately, she walked to the door and then looked over her shoulder to Souma. Still smiling, the perfect arch of one dark eyebrow rose expectantly as she nodded toward the presumably locked door. "But have no fear," Galina continued with an ironic bow very like she had seen Goemon give to her so many times at dinner, "I can certainly be as good a messenger as any you might employ. Word. For. Word."

"My father is a most reasonable man. I cannot imagine any other course, but he would take your message for a thoughtful notice, entirely in the spirit I am sure you intend."

[Derren Krenshaw]

Takahiro didn't bother collecting the jug, nor the table, nor the cups.

"I am sure he will." The same cold look never wavered from his eyes, no smile crossing his lips to try and meet the one on Galina's own. He paid no mind to the thinly-veiled threats of her words, rising to them would only cheapen himself.

Galina would carry his message, and her family would either acquiesce or retaliate. The former -while unlikely- would certainly allow Takahiro to continue his efforts within America fairly easily. Sure, other countries were operating within it's borders as well, but now Takahiro's people had practice. He would push them out as he came across them, just like the rival gangs within his home country.

And if they pushed back? Took offense to his warning and pressed him to test the weight of his words?

It would be the same as those gangs that had refused to back down. Only the taste of noble blood was sweeter.

Walking calmly to the door beside Galina, Takahiro rapped it lightly with the end of his staff, striking a clear bell that sounded throughout the room. The door opened only a moment after... To reveal a man quite tall for his Japanese heritage, broad-shouldered and clean-shaven, though wearing a suit fitted perfectly to his physique.

"Takahiro-sama." Daisuke spoke curtly, offering only the shallowest of nods, dark eyes never leaving Galina. He stood a step away from the door, one hand resting almost casually at his hip, the other tucked within the jacket of his suit.

Takahiro, for his part, merely nodded in return, turning back almost in passing to regard Galina.

"You can go. Klara is safe, our turn to leave." He turned his back to the Russian spy then, stepping forwards and around Daisuke, trusting his fist to move should the need arise. Otherwise, he moved to walk further down the hallway, away from where Goemon had led Galina down before.

Daisuke knew these levels of the ship, he'd know a quiet way to where they needed to go. Given his fist was here instead of his voice, Selvin was already on the boat, and Goemon standing by. All was set, all was complete, now they only needed to leave.

[Derren Krenshaw]

****Tokyo Outskirts- Takahiro clan compound****

A low wall surrounded the compound, whitewashed and rising just high enough to conceal the interior from casual view. No fortress wall to repel a siege, but the Takahiro mansion held within was no castle.

Though some might argue that fact.

The interior was massive, composed of a series of one-story buildings connected with raised wooden bridges. Ponds, gardens, training fields and bamboo stands filled in the open spaces made by the patchwork of a half-dozen structures, from small 'shacks' to the intimidating main building itself. Open-air walkways ran the perimeter of each building, walls of little more than rice-paper-and-wood screens created privacy more than structure. Wherever someone wanted to gaze out at the interior, or catch the oncoming breeze, or simply bask in the sun from the comfort of the building, these screens had been pushed open.

And many had been, even today. Nearly a dozen family members or close contacts of Raigo Takahiro made their permanent residence within the compound, accompanied by the servants, bodyguards and myriad guests who could always be found within. Somewhere within the compound, there were always those in rapt conversation. Elsewhere, there was the repetitive echo of training, or the quiet murmur of delicate ceremony, or the simple rustle of wind on clothing. The Takahiro compound was one of sounds and activity, yet also one of contemplation and respite, all brought together behind low, whitewashed walls.

On this day, however, the majority of the sounds emanated from a room set in the corner of the main structure, screens flung wide to enjoy the nearby pond and garden. Several figures sat within on simple mats, dressed in the robes and gowns of their station, ceramic cups before each one.

"Good, very good." Raigo Takahiro nodded sagely, a contented smile on his face as he sampled the tea held in his own cup. The picture of elder dignity, he wore his grey hair with grace, kindly gaze settling on the gowned figure across from him. "Look forward to... ceremony. And to meet son."

Taking another sip, Raigo let out a contented sigh, continuing to smile at the western woman who had so taken to the culture of his homeland, even as she shared her own. It had been the greatest of fortunes that this lovely, brilliant woman had met Raigo's patron and been introduced to the Takahiro Patriarch, her knowledge of the western world of dear value to him and his family. And to think she was so eager to practice the tea ceremony, to be able to participate when Souma returned home! It was comical, in a way, but wonderfully so. Enough to make a man like Raigo think this turn to diplomacy and political maneuverings so late in life wasn't a bad thing after all.

"Souma is very good man, Shizuka-san. Will like speaking with. Promise."