Tea and Biscuits (Tristan)

[Soren Kvistson]

"You are free to choose,"

Cylus 7, 720

Soren ducked into the little cafe, over near the East Gate, a small single owner shop known as The Crusty Crumpet. He stepped inside, smiling at the curvy, as it seemed all women who were bakers were, shop owner behind the counter. She beckoned him to the counter and he happily obliged her. She smiled sweetly at him, "I seent you these last few days, walkin' round these parts."

Soren's eyes narrowed, wondering if she was onto his plan to acquire the property across the street. Perhaps to be a challenger in this, drive the price up. "You gots a lady around here you're sweet on?" He relaxed. She was a gossiper. She just wanted a juicy story of sordid romance. He smirked at her, "Well... I did, but she's a bit too... skinny for my taste. I like a woman with meat on her bones." he grinned wolfishly at her, "Plus, she's my wife's sister. Good for the occasional tryst but certainly not someone to bring home to mother."

The woman behind the counter flushed a deep red, "Oh my, you are busy sir. Are you... are you meeting her here? The sister?"

Soren leaned against the counter, making a point to flash a glance at the woman's very ample bosom, slowly, before returning to her eyes. "I am. Though under the guise of business. You see, she's the bodyguard to a very important man, a very wealthy man. And he is madly in love with her, but also terribly controlling and jealous. She's not allowed to show any affection or emotion when she's working. And she is madly in love with me."

The woman fanned herself, "Oh my word." She leaned forward, letting more of her cleavage hang out, and Soren made sure to let her see him look. "So what are you gonna do?"

Soren just grinned, "Well, I was hoping you could help me with that actually..."

She perked right up, "Oh yes. Yes I will. How can I help?"

He looked her right in the eyes, "After the meeting begins, come over and offer her your absolute best pastry. Whatever is truly your best creation. Tell her that a man came by earlier by the name of Domingo del Pollo and ordered it for her. Tell her that he misses her dearly and craves the touch of her softest of flesh again, and that he is most sorry for what happened in Rharne. It didn't mean anything."

The woman giggled furiously, nodding rapidly, and Soren tossed a few coins on the counter, "Keep the change. I'll take a coffee and whatever is freshest. But don't bring them until my company arrives, please."

He turned walking toward the table, before stopping, looking back, "And thank you. I owe you for this. Whatever you want..." The woman giggled some more and snorted, and disappeared in back. Soren, in a more chipper mood now that he'd managed to entertain himself a bit, found a table. He knew he was quite early. He'd planned for that when he sent a courier to deliver a message to Tristan Venora, asking that he and Lianne, because he knew she'd be coming anyways, to join him for an afternoon snack at this cafe, so as to discuss business.

So now was simply the waiting game.

"But you are not free from the consequences."

[Tristan Venora]

Lianne did not trust Soren Kvistson. She had been against Tristan doing business with the tavern owner. She had worked for the queen of Rynmere once, and she knew his kind. He was dangerous. Tristan had not listened to her though. He thought that he would be able to handle the man, and he was convinced that he needed him to help his brother. Lianne wasn’t entirely sure what was the matter with him either – and why Hart insisted on calling himself Eihr now and was blind. The Venoras were a strange family!

Since nothing she had done had changed Tristan’s mind, she did the only thing that she could do. When the invitation arrived – she had been rather surprised that Soren had included her – she had grabbed her sword, hidden approximately half a dozen daggers under her clothes and in her boots and followed him. If she couldn’t keep Tristan from doing business with Soren, then she would at least make sure that he didn’t end up dead in an alley, with his throat slit – or poisoned with some sort of alchemical concoction!

As they approached the café and finally entered, Lianne took a look around, looking for any kind of danger. The red-head’s outfit that trial was not exactly ladylike. While she wore a tunic in a vaguely Melrathi style, Lianne did not wear a skirt. Instead, she wore tight-fitting black leather pants. It was just easier to fight when you were wearing pants.

Tristan on the other hand was looking more or less like a Raelian aristocrat at the moment. Since he had accidentally gotten engaged to the lovely Ashling the cycle before, he had made an effort to look like a local. He wore an elegant royal blue robe that was belted with a silken sash – and he carried a small package with a bow in his hands.

When he spotted Soren, he smiled lightly before he approached. The noble was, as always, slightly ambivalent when it came to dealing with Soren. He was absolutely excited about the future research institute – and he actually found the man likeable – but at the same time he couldn’t forget what had happened to his brother. Soren had insisted that he hadn’t known, and he had said that he was sorry, but Eihr was still blind and still in bad shape, and Hart was still gone.

“Mister Kvistson”, he greeted him in a polite tone and extended a hand for him to shake. “I thank you for your invitation. I’ve brought a little gift with me, one of my previous inventions. This package contains a vial of my cat-speech potion”, he explained and handed the package to him. There were several reasons for his giving Soren a gift. Among other things, he wanted him to be in a good mood so that he would be less inclined to get in the way of his trying to develop a cure for whatever ailed Eihr. What better way was there to make someone happy than a gift?

Lianne only inclined her head in a greeting before she positioned herself behind Tristan and crossed her arms over her chest. The pretty redhead looked rather grumpy.