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The restaurant is fancy as fuck. Because of course it is, where else would Simon ask Dandelion to meet him? It's one of those places that take weeks to get reservations unless you have enough money or enough power to your name to get moved up the list.
And Simon has rented out the whole damn room. It's a small room, granted--one with a balcony that overlooks the city, but the rest of the tables are empty.
The restaurant has a trendy asian fusion theme, made popular because of their artfully made dumplings that are carefully plated with the tiniest bites, but with bursts of intense flavors.
Simon is waiting, already seated at the table. Dressed in his usual expensive, tailored suit, dark framed glasses perched on his nose. He sits calmly, quietly, looking out over the balcony beside the table. A hostess leads her into the room.
Dandelion shows up in a long cobalt blue dress and ballet flats, her hair worn half-up, pulled back out of her face in a pair of braids with the rest hanging loose. Given it's a known thing that she wears her hair up when she's in Business Mode or Going into Battle, this may be saying something. Or maybe it's just an attempt to look nice. Still, she offers Simon a smile when she sees him. "Good evening. I hope the rest of the weekend has treated you well since the potluck?"
Simon looks up as she approaches, pushing up to his feet to greet her. "Good evening," he echoes, giving her a look over--more assessing, weighing, than checking her out. He always comes off so judgmental over the tiniest of details. "Well enough, yes." He gestures for the chair opposite him, then settles down into his own once she starts to sit. "You look lovely tonight." The compliment is said with an air of detachment--a pleasantry to help counteract the air of menace that he exudes, more than an attempt to truly flatter.
"And you look about the same as usual. Sharp like a scalpel, not like a sawblade." Well, at least she's honest with him. She takes the offered seat, relaxing herself into it nice and slow--her arthritis has been a thing lately, so she almost seems to be babying her knees. "Is there an occasion we're celebrating, or just catching up? And how's your daughter? I'm guessing school's either out or about to be."
His lips twitch upwards into a devilish, pleased little smile. He appreciates the honesty.
"Just catching up. Please, indulge. My treat. Or I'll order for you." There's a beat pause, a flicker of something softening in his dark gaze--just slightly. "She's doing very well, yes. School just released for the summer, so she's home. For now, anyway. I believe she's going to Maldives with some friends for a week, soon." Ah, the life of a rich as fuck spoiled sixteen year old...
"I can order for myself, but thank you for the offer. And do you ever worry about her off on her own halfway across the world like that? I'd have panicked at the thought of Sprout going that far. I was barely even willing to send her to summer camp when she was younger." She glances down at the menu, seeming very thoughtful about the options, though he receives an occasional glance over the top of it.
Simon doesn't look at the menu. He's been here enough times to know what he wants, apparently. Instead he keeps his gaze locked on her as she examines the menu. "That's what bodyguards are for, Dandelion." Unless she prefers a different name, when outside of mage get togethers. "I pay people very well to keep an eye on her, and to let me know if she does something I would disapprove of. But I think it's important for her to see the world."
Dandelion is the only name she gives, the only name she seems to have. "Ah, how lucky she is, to be so well-protected. And what will you get up to, with a week to yourself? I can hardly imagine what use you'll make of the time." There's a hint of amusement in her tone, but it's born from understanding; she was a single parent too--albeit with shared custody.
He pauses to consider that. "Realistically? I will likely dedicate the extra time to myself to work. I may fly to New York for a day or two. There's a collector I have worked with for years who is on his death bed. I've been trying to convince him to sell his collection to me before he passes."
The waitress returns to take their orders. Simon makes a few selections for himself, one of which includes dumplings filled with some sort of duck and truffle mixture. And a bottle of very expensive sake for them to share.
Once Dandy has ordered and the waitress has left, Simon focuses his piercing gaze back on her. "My apologies, I should have asked first whether you can drink alcohol with the medications you're on."
Dandelion's order is small--and focuses on leaner meats and a sunomono salad with lobster, crab and octopus.
"I shouldn't, no. Bad interactions." She doesn't seem to take it as a slight, but might be slightly surprised he's noticed. "I suppose I probably should have hidden in the bathroom or something to take my pills at the potluck. Everyone shouldn't have to see me dealing with that."
"Probably," he agrees, a fingertip pressing to the edge of his frames primly to push them up his nose. "How much longer do you have?" The question is blunt, cutting in the way his words often do. Through the bullshit, to the heart of the conversation.
"I beg your pardon?" She glances up at him, frowning.
"Your health is deteriorating, is it not?" He stares so very intently.
"I'm getting older. That's what happens when you age." She smiles blankly at him.
It's very hard to tell if she's not aware of how bad things are, or if she's making a valiant effort to hide it.
"Quite so," Simon agrees, eyes narrowing a hint. "I didn't invite you here tonight to judge you. Or pity you. Merely offer my condolences, as someone who also has their doom breathing down their neck." Literally, in his case. "But it seems either you are not aware how close to death you are, or you don't wish to embrace it." A beat pause. "Or I am incorrect entirely." He doesn't seem bothered by which is really going on here.
"How close to death do you believe I am, Simon?" She tilts her head slightly to one side.
"Without intervention? You'll pass within the year. If sources are to be believed."
She blinks a couple times, eyes seeming to water. "I see. Thank you for letting me know, regardless of if they're right or not."
If Simon feels any remorse for making her cry, he doesn't show it. He just continues to watch her.
The waitress brings their drinks, including the sake. He breaks eye contact just long enough to take the bottle and fill up his glass. "Would you seek intervention, if it is true?" he asks, once they're alone again.
"I wouldn't tell anyone, Simon. Or seek help from them." There's a gesture that's a bit above her head; it's clear who she means.
"You wouldn't let anyone magic it away, you mean." He picks up the glass to sip from.
"Yes, that's what I mean. Does that disappoint you to hear? Were you hoping to have me around to bother you forever?" The tears vanish, and she even manages something shaped like a smile.
Simon is quiet for a moment, considering the question for more time than she likely expected--giving actual thought to it. "No. It doesn't disappoint me. I respect the decision. There's something to be said, about accepting your own mortality. Though I can't say I am in any rush to loose your company." He takes another gulp of sake. "Would you seek out the marvels of modern medicine, at least?"
"Within reason. I don't ever want my life to be anchored to machines, living in a hospital bed, with no hope ever making it outside again. That's not...that would be the most terrible thing I could imagine. But...I have been taking my doctors' advice, about my blood pressure and my cholesterol and my diabetes. I'm not completely unaware that I'm getting old." She shrugs. "A year. I'll have to make it an impactful one. Use the time well."
His chin lifts a little in understanding. He certainly doesn't plan to live long enough to become anchored to machines, either.
"If you wish to seek a second opinion--confirm the Doom, or disprove it--I'll have the best doctors flown in to see you."
"That's very generous of you. Why?" Suspicious, but trying not to be too pointed about it.
"You are useful to me," he replies bluntly. "Your use vastly decreases if your body weakens. It is in my benefit to keep you on your feet as long as is possible."
"Oh, good. That makes more sense. I thought I was losing my read on you." She lets out a warm laugh. "I've...already gotten weaker. I can't run like I used to, and stairs are my greatest enemy. I get worn down easily, Simon."
His lips twitch upwards. "I can be a charitable man, Dandelion. I just choose which charities I cultivate very carefully." He sips down more sake, then tops off the glass. He always was a drinker. Well, since Dandy has known him, anyway. "I'm surprised some of the others don't try to pump you full of steroid-magic 24/7. They do seem overly fond of such things."
"I've never asked any of them for help with it. They know how fiercely I value my autonomy, and don't tend to intrude too far without that. Are you planning on telling anyone what you know?"
"Odd. I would have thought they'd be tripping over themselves to help their Auntie," Simon replies dryly. He flits a hand dismissively. "No. Secrets loose their worth, the more people that know them."
The first course is brought in, artfully plated little morsels with sleek fancy chopsticks given to eat with. Simon plucks up his chopsticks. "Tell me about your Cadre."
"The Realizers--both for reaching epiphanies and bringing our dreams into reality. They're all so young, so vibrant and so full of potential. All experts in different fields. River's my fellow Factotum. She's hard to predict the path of--very, very Acanthus--but is strong-willed and intelligent. Liezel's an Arrow like myself, and a master of Perfected Materials. Watching her navigate her relationship with authority is interesting now, but once she's earned some herself, it'll be even moreso. And then there's Quinn, who's brilliant, but very attached to his routines. I'm watching how he and River interact most closely. It's a potential faultline."
She also picks up her chopsticks, but is a hair more clumsy with them, likely. Still, after a moment, she's fine. It's like riding a bicycle.
"I admit, I was surprised at first to see you anchored to so many young people. But perhaps I shouldn't be, so much. You seem like the sort to enjoy guiding and teaching the next generation. They're wise to listen to you." He plucks up his food confidently, popping the bite into his mouth to chew thoroughly, savoring the burst of flavor. "What do you mean, regarding Liezel's relationship with authority?"
"It's how it always is for me. I collect a group of growing young mages, anchor them for a few years, eventually the group breaks down for whatever reason. Last time, it was so two of the members could go to graduate school halfway across the country. I never get these cadres to keep." She lets out a bit of a laugh. "As for Liezel, she's a military veteran who had to balance doing the right thing versus her military career, and there's a cinder of resentment in her heart."
"I see." Simon stares for a moment with a sharp look of... disappointment? But he seems hooked on Liezel for whatever reason, the look fading as Dandy explains her past. "She seems to be a very capable woman," he notes, a spark of greed in his voice. The interest of a collector.
"So she is. A very able marksman as well." And Dandelion sits up slightly, protective of her Obrimos friend. "Simon, have you ever considered contributing to a Cadre, yourself?"
"Noted," he replies before taking another sip. "Not really. I don't imagine many would tolerate me." It's not self deprecating. Just realistic.
"You wouldn't change who you present yourself as, in order to be tolerated." She smiles knowingly. "Which is, itself, a sign of a sort of integrity. And helps you weed out those who're too 'soft' for your aims."
A brow arches faintly. Then he nods, appreciatively. "Exactly. I have no desire to limit myself for the sake of comradery."
"And you certainly won't let anyone simply consider you 'family'." She laughs. "The look on your face when that asked if you were mine."
Perhaps predictably, his nose wrinkles with distaste. "People too often use the word family far too loosely. It loses it's meaning."
"Do you have any family, beside your daughter? Blood or otherwise."
"Blood, yes." The chopsticks are set delicately down. "None that I keep in contact with."
"Ah. A shame. Though I can't help but wonder who alienated whom, there." She chuckles. "Or disappointed, perhaps."
That intense, sharp stare lingers on her for a few seconds as he leans back into his chair. His posture is a little more relaxed now, the only outward sign that the sake is settling in. Or maybe he's just enjoying her company. "You're free to form your own theories."
"The speculation's amusing, but not really worth anything, I don't think. You don't keep contact with them, so they're irrelevant." She gestures as if waving a wisp of smoke away.
His lips quirk upwards briefly, but soon the waitress is returning to set down the next course and gather up the old dishes, doing so quickly and efficiently. This time when Simon picks up the chopsticks, he only tries a small taste of this plate. The rest of it is carefully picked up and offered to the back of his head, his other hand sweeping his hair aside. There's some... rather grotesque chewing noises. But he doesn't seem remotely embarrassed by feeding it in her presence.
"Any other willworker gossip I should be aware of? I've been out of touch, lately."
And she shows no overt reaction to him feeding it, either. "The three new Awakenings are the latest large piece of news. Quinn trying to flirt with Sirius is something you saw, and something I don't think you actually care about. Hierarch Penance is raising her bets on the Convocation debates, after she watched the debate portion of my and River's Factotum exams. And then there's the Rat Hosts. Do you particularly care about the Rat Hosts?"
"I heard some rumors about Awakenings. Three? That's quite unusual, is it not?" He carefully smooths his hair down once the chewing sounds have faded, setting the chopsticks down again. "...No, I don't particularly care about Quinn making a fool of himself. The knowledge that Heirarch Penance is a gambler is interesting. Rat Hosts? Depends. Will it effect my business?"
"Unlikely directly. Indirectly, they're tied to spirits of urban neglect and decay and they punch holes in the Gauntlet, and that can be bad for everyone on the whole. But of course, it's not something you're required to assist with." She gestures with her chopsticks. "The Awakenings were tied directly to the fruit of the Martyr's Tree, as well; the tree grew sympathetic ties to all three new mages before they Awakened."
"If you believe I can assist you, I would consider it." But clearly going up against rats is not his idea of a fun time. Gross. He tilts his head slightly, fingertips resting lightly against the rim of his glass. "This seems... significant, but I can't place what that means, exactly. Are they special somehow, because of this?"
"I don't know yet. One of them seems to be aiming to join the Arrow, and is currently being taught by Liezel, as they share a Path. I haven't heard how the other two are leaning, but they're a Mastigos and another Obrimos." She continues to eat daintily.
"I can't say I know much of anything about the tree, but... interesting." He drains another glass just in time for his phone to go off. He pulls it free of his coat to check, quieting it. "Unfortunately, I need to cut dinner short. But please, stay and enjoy the rest of your meal." He pushes to his feet. "And let me know what you decide, about the doctor."
"I will. Take care, Simon. I look forward to seeing you again." That sounds remarkably sincere.
"As I you, Dandelion." He tips his head slightly. "Goodnight." He straightens his suit jacket then turns to stride on out.
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