Training Time

Completed one-shot storylines are archived here after their completion.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Training Time

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The roane nodded and huffed out a breath. "Okay, I'll remember that," he replied, shrugging off his initial impression of Allan.
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Re: Training Time

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"Now, then. What we could try in order to help you focus on bringing objects through with you could involve-"

Nigel didn't have much of an occasion to finish, as a sound resembling a single shotgun discharge shook the air above the Gauntlet, apparently coming from the observation deck he'd set up and where the Gauntlet's controls resided. As any thief might when alarmed by a loud noise, he didn't so much panic as he slipped behind one of the columns, his breathing shifting and becoming measured. He hadn't so much grown tense as he'd keyed into his reflexes as someone who'd long since developed an expertise in the arts of stealth and silence.

Still, a heartbeat passed and the sunglasses shifted. "Allan?" he called out.

From above and venturing closer, a voice that packed some amount of masculine depth with a few syrupy tones rang out. By sound alone, this was the voice of a people-pleaser and a professional poker face, like a self-congratulatory take on Archie's thankfully occasional bursts of personal pride.

"Well, I'll say I never expected you to have dug so deep, Nigel. What are we, a good thirty feet below the Utilities basement?
- Thereabouts," agreed the CEO, who slipped out from his hiding place and strolled forward. "I offered some of my own vaults in order to keep whatever it was Amazo couldn't contain, and I have some extra storage space underneath the Shard. Double the price, double the workers and the available jobs... Conveniently forget the initial plans for this space, isolate it and then re-purpose its electrical installations... It wasn't that hard."

A large figure stepped onto the catwalk that overlooked the Gauntlet. An anthro hippopotamus, this Allan fellow didn't exactly look like the type who might have harbored special abilities. He had the kind of suit you'd have expected a top-shelf PR executive to wear, with a face that managed to transcend his species' sometimes goofy-looking features and to present airs of self-styled sophistication. His mouth was tailor-made for large and toothy grins, but its corners curled up instead, a tiny slit forming out in front and exposing a tiny bit of white bone.

"A few NDAs and glorified pension funds later, you had yourself your very own Fortress of Solitude... Not bad, for someone who's developed a chronic allergy to threats and violence."

Allan's left eyebrow quirked up. "Were you going up those stairs to put some pants on? You really don't have to, you know...
- There's a draft," replied Griffin, something in his voice betraying a contrite smile.

"But those flip-flops of yours are perfectly serviceable! It's not like I'm going to undress you, of all people...
- Old habits," added Griffin, before he briefly stopped and turned back. "This is Ciaran McConmara, of Holden Hall. I've been asked to help him develop his abilities."

Again, the same eyebrow quirked up, a tiny moan of assessment escaped the hippo's lips and he - simply disappeared.

Almost simultaneously, Ciaran would hear the same gunshot-like sound of air being violently displaced. Allan was just as quickly behind him, giving the roane's shoulders and back an appraising look.

"I'm sorry if I come off as blunt, it's in my nature," he said. "With that in mind, you're not built like Nigel is. Wider shoulders - stronger across the back, too... You're a lifter, hm? Nigel's more of a dancer, really. Not with partners or anything - think lasers and motion sensors. You, young man, you're the working-out type; I can see that much."

Upstairs, Nigel sighed. "Ciaran McConmara, may I present Allan Winston, Director of Public Relations for Griffin Securities.
- You say that like you're ashamed," noted the hippo, smiling like honey dripping off of a spoon.

"Sometimes,'" noted the invisible man, which only made the pachyderm's smile turn brighter. "Especially when I see you mentally undressing associates of mine."

What should have been a reproach only made the hippo shrug lightly and dig his hands in his pockets. "I have standards. Who doesn't?"
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Training Time

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"Nice to meet you..." his voice trailed off, offering his hand until Allan disappeared. When Allan started inspecting his shoulders and back, he quickly turned around to face him. Of course, the seal man was probably giving the hippo a chance to view his front. "Yeah, I only work out when I have the time; it's more from my job as a dockworker," Ciaran explained. When presented with a stranger so forward as Allan, he occasionally shifted his eye contact away from the teleporter.

Hoping to get things back on track, the selkie cleared his throat and offered his hand again to the anthro. If Allan happened to grasp the clawed and webbed appendage, he would notice it was rough and callused. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Winston."
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Re: Training Time

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"The pleasure's all mine," replied Winston, something in those big, brown eyes of his acting as though his eyes were wide-open windows broadcasting the most obvious thoughts imaginable. His hand, in comparison, was as soft and delicately textured as you'd have expected out of someone who probably exfoliated their naturally coarse skin on a daily basis. He didn't even so much as show paper-pusher calluses, even if he did seem to have mastered handshakes.

From closer, the hippo could be seen wearing a simple black suit, probably bespoke in origin but so simple in its cut as to look like an off-the-counter item. He wore no tie, instead pairing the suit with a dark purple shirt and a matching pocket square. The shirt's top-most first three buttons were left undone, exposing a gradually thickening shock of dark chest hair, probably inherited from a human parent. Similarly, the outline of a carefully shaved expanse of facial hair could be seen, even if the only spots where hair was actually allowed to grow consisted of a pencil-thin mustache. What did indeed look fine and delicate on that big lip would have seemed massive on any other face. If Nigel stuck to corporate standards in haberdashery on an everyday basis, the hippo looked like he preferred to go for a more, well, hip and urbane take on formal wear - the kind of outfit you'd wear as much for a media blitz as you would for a lazy five-to-nine in some of Hope's trendiest bars and restaurants.

"Hm, dock work," he mused, seemingly in approval, as if the concept titillated him. "That's commendable - especially the physical parts of it all - so long as you stay at an arm's length from the union bosses. I'm for decent working conditions as much as the next guy, but when your chapter boss has Weasel Biggs' number on his phone in-between union rep numbers, you're honestly better off pretending you're on Wal-Mart's side in terms of how minimum wage should be applied..."

He then rolled his eyes a bit. "Push it too far, though, and you excite the Righties... It's so sad that a guy can't have his own damn fun on his own damn time, nowadays, when sexless or cisgender aliens get a pass."

Nigel's voice came back from behind and above them. "We're Libertarian with a strong Democrat bend, Allan," he reminded, having slipped pants on in a few moments. "It's not like those sorts ever bothered you.
- That's because you haven't had a Miami penthouse, Nigel," added the hippo on a patiently scolding term. "Florida's great for a good many things - Cuban music, pork sandwiches, the beach, year-round sunshine; but the Everglades and every place that has a tiny bit of the Outback to it serves as a hunting grounds for certain supernaturals, occasional African-Americans, and especially good-looking studs like myself."

Nigel scoffed. "Every second conversation always spins right back to gay rights issues or comments on the local nightlife," he explained, sounding more amused than critical. "Allan's great with people, but it'd be fair to say he has a one-track mind.
- Can I really help it?" asked the pachyderm, "I'm built not to get caught if I get in anyone's face! I push too many buttons with someone? Woosh, I'm someplace else where I won't be stuck with a bunch of straights ripped right out of the fifties!"
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Re: Training Time

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"Well, I'll not be one to judge you for your orientation, Mr. Winston. As far as opinions regarding sexual identity or other such issues, selkies are pretty open on the issue," Ciaran stated, dismissively waving his hand as a means to show it was not a big deal to him.

"I'm actually in a transitory period between working at the docks and at Holden Hall. As we get more cases, I'll be spending more time at Archie's and stop working at the docks altogether. So, two paychecks at the moment. Between Aislinn's salaries and mine, it pays the rent, puts food on the table, and is enough to give Gubbin a regular stipend. That's all that really matters at this point in my life," he commented, shrugging his shoulders.
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Re: Training Time

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The hippo dug his hands in his pockets. "Gubbin? That's the Malk you saved from your first case, right?"

He somehow managed to make a pout look like an inquisitive expression. "How's that like? Having a butler, I mean. It's the only thing I haven't really tried out - it just feels so gaudy, nowadays. Self-reliance is all the rage, and you wouldn't believe how many immortals have trouble understanding that!"

Nigel chuckled. "Some people ask me if our systems come complete with a trained retinue of Animates or if we lash spirits and key them into attacking whoever disturbs a given perimeter. I'm a thief doubled with an engineer, not a bloody warlock! But yes, how is everyday life with a Malk? I've heard tell that they can be fairly, erm, finicky, on occasion."
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Re: Training Time

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The roane laughed heartily, causing his shoulders to shake with mirth. "Finicky is one way to put it. I imagine having a Malk as a butler is fairly different from having a human manservant. Most of the time, he remains inconspicuous and carries out his responsibilities. When it comes to housekeeping, you have to follow by his rules or else. He's asked what we like to eat, but he's the one that plans the meals. He cleans the apartment and Aislinn's work area to perfection. He makes sure we're on time and don't miss appointments."

Ciaran sobered up and frowned. "He's been pretty tight-lipped so far, but Aislinn and I hope that he'll eventually warm up to us and everyone at Holden Hall. After Gawain's betrayal, he's been keeping a tall barrier between himself and us."

He scoffed lightly. "Probably the oddest thing about having a Malk as a butler is getting used to a black cat the size of a greyhound occasionally resting on a window ledge and prowling around our home he views as his territory. He does tend to talk about past missions and assaults like it's everyday talk and says it with the utmost pride. He's definitely a predator at his core, but we respect that fact and allow him to still have his independence. Overall, it's nice to have someone take care of things while the both of us are at work, but it's also a challenge to get used to someone with those instincts and has his own issues to work through."
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Re: Training Time

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Allan shrugged. "What's wrong with a little occasional gloating?
- I think Ciaran means things are more involved," corrected Nigel. "Malks shadow their charges, stalk their targets and usually take a lot of pleasure in killing them. Considering how his last tenure ended, I think Gubbin is trying to rebuild what he'd consider as his Butler Credit, so to speak."

That made the hippo smile. "Why? It's not like the man's got a resumé that needs cleaning up, right?"

Something in the invisible man's posture conveyed a sudden amount of unease, as if the subject had become delicate. "Raising Gawain - any Fae aristocrat, really - would come as a point of honor for him or other Wyldfae. If Gawain turned to Mab, Gubbin would naturally feel as though he's failed House Machae. The Malk's just restarting an old process. First, he sells his new charges on his professionalism. Then, he might worry about trying to form bonds with them," he explained, nodding to Ciaran.

That seemed to give some fuel for thought to the pachyderm. "Hm. Can't say I've ever had to reconstitute my social credit before; I can see how hard that could be. Failure wouldn't look like an option, I bet...
- You'd be about right. When you're the son of one of Faerie's most requested instructors in personal service, you have a heavy burden to bear."
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Re: Training Time

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Ciaran nodded. "That's true. I think he's been wounded by the one person he considered to be like a son, so he's cautious about anyone piercing the ice, so to speak. I guess he'd be the one to pierce the ice first, so to speak," he suggested.
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Re: Training Time

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They both fell silent for a moment, Allan briefly taking his surroundings in.

"The latest calamities and supernatural whatsits aside, though; how are you taking to this superhero thing? I can understand fighting the good fight if there's something to be gained out of it but - "

He produced a hesitant tsk. "Call me materialistic and shallow, I won't care at all. I'd have a hard time stepping in front of a hail of bullets just for any old cause, truth be told. I don't mind pain or injury, I'm just not too keen on losing what I've worked at all these years. I'd have been more money-oriented a few years ago, too."

That made Nigel scoff in amusement. "Please excuse this saprophyte, Ciaran; not all of us thieves take to larceny with noble ends in mind..."
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