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Anna-Marie's office is a fancy high-rise building in a freshly gentrified part of town. The night guard ushers Jack up to the elevator, swiping a security card and informing him that Anna-Marie is waiting for him on the 10th floor.
When he arrives, he finds himself in an incredibly fancy personal office. There's a mahogany desk with a fully stocked wet bar next to it, various autographed vinyl records on the walls, a few modern art paintings and, hanging above the leather desk chair, a greatsword and a katana.
In said leather chair sits a remarkably fancy woman, who appears to be somewhat dressed down. Her suitcoat is hanging on a rack near by, leaving her in a white button up with a black vest over it and a pair of suit pants. "Ah, Mr. Martingale!" Anna-Marie exclaims, standing up to shake his hand. She then gestures at the wet bar. "What's your poison? If you like reds, I have a '98 Priorat that I swear by. But if, ah, liquor is not your vice, I have other offerings."
Jack's dressed up for the occasion, in a pair of sharp black trousers and a deep green dress shirt with a subtle stripe. A paler green floral tie completes his look. His hair is neatly coiffed, and he offers her a smile when he walks in, though he does give the rest of the office a quick look. The cologne he's wearing is unusual, the scent drifting in the air as he gets closer to her to shake her hand - it almost smells like a rainstorm, with a hint of something more metallic.
"Ms. Cordray. It's -" he swallows the pleasantry when she gestures to the bar. "This...is a business meeting, right?" He only gives the wet bar half a glance - maybe showing unexpected restraint, given what she's learned about him.
Anna-Marie pauses for a second as he talks, seeming to smell something. She smells a heady scent of alcohol on him, a hint of sweat and a strange smell like spring flowers and a place she's never been. Internally she smirks, though she keeps her face the same polite smile she's had on the whole time. "Oh, call me a bit old fashioned, but meetings like this one, casual ones, do better with a bit of drink in both sides. Take the edge off, you understand," she explains in her distinct accent, somewhere between Received Pronunciation and Transatlantic, "And if things go well, then we can have more than a little drink, aha!" She pours herself a glass of the '98 Priorat, with an inviting look.
His smile dims just slightly, and he takes another look at the bar. "...Sure. What the hell." If there's rum, he'll have that, but he's not too picky. "What um...what're you expecting to go well? Or not?" His lips quirk up there, and he looks for a place to sit. "Your secretary said you wanted to know more about the fashion show?"
"Well, yes and no. Frankly, I couldn't care less about the last fashion show. Old news," Anna-Marie says, pouring him a glass of rum, but leaving the bottle on the desk between them. Odds are good that this is the best rum Jack has ever had. Anna-Marie does not skimp on luxury.
"Come, sit," she purrs, taking a seat at her chair and gesturing at the less fancy chair on his side. "What I want in on is the next show, one that the union approves off. Oh! That reminds me," she says, taking a checkbook and calligraphy pen out of a nearby drawer, "how are the good people of your union doing?"
Jack watches her pour the glass, and slowly sinks into the offered chair. He sips the rum like someone who's not used to taking his time with things like that, and frowns slightly.
"I...don't know that there are any plans in the works to bring the union into any future shows, that's not my decision, really. Well, at all, actually, apart from me having voting power. And eh...I don't think I can speak for them all, overall it's...I mean it's doing as well as any union can, given how the world is right now."
Anna-Marie drains her glass. "No need to be shy, Mr. Martingale. You're among friends here," she says, like the alcohol barely even effected her. She tuts, writing on the check before handing it over. "The world is not kind to the little folk, Mr. Martingale. Fifty-thousand dollars ought to offset any blowback from your bold decision to leave minutes before a performance. Takes stones, as it were. And I'm certain there will be some sort of show soon that I'd love to have my name in on. I'm trying to make a name for myself in town. Show the world I'm more than I appear. You understand that, don't you? Being more than what you look like?"
"Ah..." He blinks at the check, and goes a little pale. Fifty-thousand dollars is a lot of money. "I...the union doesn't really have any hand in planning a show. We just...set up and tear down?" He takes another drink, a larger one this time, focusing more on the check than on any sort of decorum surrounding alcohol consumption while in private offices with people one barely knows.
"I may have need of that for upcoming events," Anna-Marie says with a shrug. "A lovely songbird has requested a specific roll in a specific play and I wish to do what I can to accommodate her." She waves at the records behind her, "music is a bit of a passion of mine. But more than anything else, my aim is simple. Build a friendship between us. Start to integrate myself and my charitable works into a strange new world."
"...Strange new world?" Jack's eyebrows twitch upward. "There're official channels for that, you know - or just make sure your venues are union and you're good to go."
"Yes, strange and new. This city is nothing like San Francisco. You can't even see the ocean from here," Anna-Marie says with a huff. "But one must make do with what one has."
"And there are official channels, but official channels have a far less intriguing man come along with them. I like to speak with people I'm getting into business with, one on one. Get a read on them. Plus this way you can tell your people about the brilliant sales pitch you gave me."
"Not wrong there - I was in San Fran a few years ago. Well. In a hotel and in a theater in San Fran. Didn't get to see anything of the - I'm - intriguing?" He takes another drink, possibly to hide whatever expression he's making.
"I...still don't really understand what you want from me, Ms. Cordray."
"I just want to know I have your ear when union decisions are being made. That if a project needs to not happen, it won't. If a strike is imminent, that I'll be given proper warning. Nothing that will harm the union of course! Heaven forfend." Anna-Marie gives a warm smile.
"And Mr. Martingale, you are extremely intriguing. There's something about you. Something about you that's different than in humans. More rum?"
Jack tries to hide his twitch, and the way he immediately tenses when she suggests he's not human. "I'm good on the rum, thanks." He gives her a tight smile. "I dunno what you think the union can do for you, Ms. Cordray, but you've really come to the wrong guy. Really."
"No, I'm pretty sure I have the exact right person. Mr. Jack Martingale, twin brother to Ms. Jane Martingale. You've just gotten back into contact with her , which congratulations are in order for, family is always hard. You're trans and proud. You're the partner of one "Lux", who I didn't have much time to dig into I'm afraid. You're a union spokesman who believes very thoroughly in what he does. You're a drunk who doesn't think they have enough of a problem to be really worried. Oh and lest I forget, you aren't human." Anna-Marie smiles a broad predatory smile, her beast flickering inside of her.
"And you know what else you are? My contact in the union. Money or not, you'll be working for me. I encourage you to take the money, however. My name being out there will make things much easier for both of us."
The color drains from Jack's face. He sets his empty glass on the desk with a little force, and eyes it, looking a little nauseated. It's a solid three seconds, before he actually speaks.
"So you've looked into me. Congratu-fucking-lations." His voice is cold, but there's a tremor in it. "Dunno why any of that. Makes you think I'm gonna be your contact. I don't work for you, I never will work for you, you slimy corporate bitch."
"What is it with the people in this town that they don't understand soft power?" Anna-Marie mumbles, a little chuckle coming out of her throat. "Need I be clearer, Mr. Jack Martingale whose parents tragically perished when he was young? Your sister has a happy life. You have a happy life. Presumably dear sweet Lux does as well, but well, you can't read up on everyone. But give me a day or two more and I'll know more. And you want everyone to keep being happy, don't you? Isn't taking a lot of money and keeping a new friend informed a small price to pay?"
His breath catches, and he doesn't let it out. Scared enough that he's barely breathing, anymore. "You're...this is blackmail." A nervous laugh escapes his lips, and he pushes his chair back. "I'm not taking your money. 'F I wasn't sure before I sure as hell am now." He looks toward the door, and starts to stand.
"Mr. Jack Martingale who doesn't talk to his family much, I want you to know that I tried to be nice. I really did. Are you claustrophobic, Mr. Jack Martingale who I'm sure will personally pay every stagehand a working wage for the gigs his fashion show stunt cost them? Because it's a long way down in a small cramped elevator, Mr. Jack Martingale who doesn't have the nerves to do anything but run." Anna-Marie stands up and grabs her cane, a distinctive silver head on it that could almost be mistaken for a pommel. She walks towards him affecting a limp, as is usual when she isn't within kindred society. "What will it be, Mr. Jack Martingale who is currently costing his union at least fifty-thousand dollars? Stay here and apologize or leave? Do try not to piss on the carpet. It's hell to clean."
"It's not losing money if they never had it in the first place." He sidesteps the chair with another glance toward the door. "And who ever said I was anything but a coward? I don't think I've got any fucking thing to apologize for."
"My god! What is wrong with this fucking city! Does no one know how to play the game? How on god's green earth do you have such a corrupt police force when you're, as a breed, too dumb to understand how this works!" Anna-Marie's borderline pissed expression melts back into its mask of politeness with a sigh. "When you leave, I will go inform your superiors about how you called me a bitch and refused to take my generous donation and you might have had a lot to drink and gosh golly maybe they shouldn't let a falling down drunk around power tools. And you will do your best to convince them that I'm some sort of diabolic manipulator, but regardless of that they will still be wondering, 'was she right?' and if you ever slip up and come to work even a tiny bit wet, they'll know I was."
She shortens the distance between them, moving awful fast for someone with an injured leg. "Mr. Jack Martingale who kisses his partner with lips full of whiskey and lies, would you care to take the lifeline I am extending you or would you rather stubbornly press on? Insistent you can do this on your own until the day you wind up penniless in an alley with all of your loved ones wishing you dead."
Jack takes half a step back. "With -" It comes out as almost a whimper, and he grimaces, and tries again. "With all due respect, Miz Anna-Marie Cordray, your 'lifeline' feels closer to a noose." His voice shakes, but it's stronger now. "The cops in this town're maybe the only ones as corrupt as you, and if 'my superiors' don't see through your 'generous donation' then I've got my fuckin work cut out for me there, too." He shoves the chair back toward the desk. "An' you clearly don't know the people I work with 'f you think me having a drink or two after work's the worst of it."
Jack turns to walk toward the door, not quite letting her out of his sight.
"And whisky's fucking disgusting, anyway."
Anna-Marie taps her cane on the ground twice. "Very well then, Mr. Jack Martingale who should probably check dear sweet Lux's bathroom mirror better. I hope you have fun on the dark stairs or the cramped elevator. Though the front door should be locking soon, so you might need to hurry. I do so hope you have lovely dreams tonight."
That, at least, Jack knows is an empty threat.
Probably.
Right?
Either way, he doesn't respond, and gets the fuck out of her office, shoving the door closed before trying his very hardest not to bolt for the stairs.
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