Meanwhile on Wall Street... [Everyone EXCEPT Ark]

[Ira Reier]

New York, New York

Already Reier Technologies had office structures set up in both New York City and Los Angeles. This was most certainly a strategic move. J. Ira Reier’s two notable competitors had headquarters located in those cities: Ark Industries, the research giant that had managed to make a complete turnabout of its image under the guiding hand of Christian Moynahan, was located in the former; and Ark’s parent company, the Kilvayne Corporation, the massive and storied technology outfit, was based in New York. This was all Ira needed. Once he took out these two, well, the world was open to him, wasn’t it?

As Dr Lucius Kilvayne had taken up the post of President of the United States, the leadership of the Kilvayne Corporation had - largely - passed into the hands of one Dr Maria Sola-Reyes. Reier did not doubt for one moment that the change meant anything at all regarding the Kilvayne Corporation’s performance. The man was no fool. Dr Kilvayne may be reclining with his feet up in the Oval Office, but he was certainly keeping tabs on his own business. Neither would he have placed any incompetent fool in his position.

And Ark… well. There Ira would have to play into the cult of personality. There was no one as popular as Christian Moynahan at the moment. Several magazines had named him their “Person of the Year,” beating out even the hottest celebrities. With Ira being a good deal older, it would be difficult for him to reach that status; but there was a second option as well. He could simply cut Moynahan down.

These moves would take extensive planning. At the moment, Ira was leading press conferences and interviews regarding Reier Technologies USA’s IPO, or “initial public offering”; this was when a company officially began offering shares on the stock market. Meanwhile he was keeping a close eye on the movements of those shares. Reier was doing well, but not as well as analysts had predicted, and said analysts were confused by that.

Ira himself was hesitant. He still had time, however. This was only the beginning. As the final numbers came in and the market prepared itself to close for the day, Ira called one last brief press conference, where he gathered his aides at his sides and stood with a smile before the microphones.

“I’d like to thank everyone for welcoming Reier Technologies so eagerly into the American market.” He spoke with an accent that any American would readily identify as “English,” although of course as with any other country the United Kingdom was far more complex than that. “And we cannot wait to share the projects we have in mind with you. As for our peers in the technology industry - we are pleased to join your arena.” Ira nodded toward the crowd. “Now, are there any questions?”

[Andrew Reynolds]

outside Los Angeles

Becoming a counselor had not changed the fact that Andrew Reynolds had a deep, almost cerebral understanding of the business world. His parents, both NASA engineers, had damn near forced him to take engineering and business courses despite his declared apathy toward both. But he had actually enjoyed learning that stuff more than he let on, so he kept up with the news. Watching Ark Industries make a total one-eighty had been interesting, especially once they hired his not-just-a-pretty-face cousin Teagan as the head of genetic research.

Now there was a new kid moving into Los Angeles, clearly lining up a shot at Ark and the Kilvayne Corporation. That took balls, to try taking on the Kilvaynes. They literally ran the country now. Crazy stuff that had been. Andrew was not entirely certain where he had been during the battle against the Lilith woman. Probably in the 50s having dinner with Audrey Hepburn.

This day happened to be one of the few he had off from the Jung Facility, and he was spending it with a bunch of friends from around town. Beer and pizza had made their obligatory appearances. However, these guys were mostly middle- or upper-managers of tech firms, or owners of their own startups; so, being the geeks they were, it was the Reier Technologies USA IPO they were paying attention to. News on Andrew’s widescreen TV, ticker numbers and trends on their notebooks. Set up in Andrew’s backyard as they were, one would have thought they were some guys chilling. Not so much.

“They’re not doing so bad. Watch their numbers. People are buying, buying, buying.” Nate gestured to his laptop screen with his mug of beer.

“Watch that, dumbass. You’ll spill the damn Corona all over your keyboard and I’ll have to go back two minutes and keep you from spilling the damn Corona. Also, look closer.” Andrew tapped the man’s screen. “Look at KVC. Everyone knows the Kilvayne outfit’s a monster. One little British company isn’t going to take that shit down. People are being smart and holding back.”

“You sure about that?” Parker was watching the TV. “I mean, the guy sounds like he knows his stuff. And he’s the biggest thing in the UK right now.”

“Yeah, sure he is. No, really, he is. He’s serious business. See those eyebrows? But the market over here is totally different than what he’s used to. Can’t just jump in, or there’ll be a Google bubble….” Andrew paused. “Key, toss me that remote.”

The requested object flew through the air and landed in Andrew’s hands.

“Something’s up. Look at the estimated P/E. It’s too small.”

“Yeah, Andrew.” Jeremy snorted. “That’s why it’s the estimated P/E.”

“So industry experts on stock market exchanges are all wrong about a company that may be new to the States but is fully established and successful overseas. Right.” Andrew flipped the remote back to Key. “Twenty minutes until the market closes. I’ll show you a not-so-estimated P/E.”

Once the market closed, Andrew pulled up a spreadsheet and smashed a few numbers together. Finally he had what he needed:

Market Value per Share
————————————————
Earnings per Share

Dividing these gave him the P/E ratio. It was a tool often used to determine the worth of a stock and its “destiny” on the market - whether it would grow, fail, or rise too fast. The other guys took a look at Andrew’s work. “It’s close. Anything could happen,” Nate commented.

“Yeah.” Andrew was frowning. “Sure could.”

[Helena Rahal]

Being the head of the Company as well as Vital Energy made things a little difficult for Helena. On the one hand she had to balance the needs of all the Specials in the nation while also maintaining the safety of the non Specials and keeping the government appeased. Though sometimes she felt like giving them a giant middle finger and just running away from it all, this position that made her feel more conflicted than anything. On the other hand, she had to see to her company's needs and spheres of influence, get good contracts, and overall keep it moving towards being the premier energy provider not only in Eurasia but also in the Americas.

However it was precisely because of those positions that she had noted the rise of Reier and was not surprised when it announced its IPO. What she did not know was the motive of this Ira Reier and why it was that they were potentially lining themselves up to contest the Kilvayne Corp and its sister companies as well as subsidiaries. That meant that Ark Industries as well as Gabriel Constant's company would also be among Reier's competition. Challenging the president's company and those of his allies hardly seemed a smart decision.

From her office in San Antonio, the headquarters of Vital's American division, Helena watched the opening with interest. It was going to be quite interesting to see how the American investors would take to this new option on the board. How many would so boldly go against the current regime and take a risk on the foreigner coming in to stir up things? Kilvayne had enemies and there were still those who were loyal to the previous regime that the little coup in the wake of the Lillith event took out.

"A tiger may change its stripes but it will never stop being a tiger." She mused as the market came to a close, Reier doing well but not great, too much of a risk for some to take. She decided then that it would behoove her to get to know more about this Ira Reier and just what Reier Technologies was actually about. Too much of an unknown this British man was and his company, she needed to know his history, the complete version, and what exactly it was that Reier Technologies was going to work on. Both of her positions needed this information and luckily for her, she knew just the woman to call upon to get that sort of work done.

"I will find out your secrets Mr. Reier and just what you are going for. Enjoy your day and I hope your closet is clean."

[Maria Sola-Reyes]

Kilvayne Corporation
Board of Directors Conference Room
Manhattan, New York, New York

Maria Sola-Reyes was watching her would-be rival closely for a while now, despite sometimes seeming to be distracted with other matters. Lucius Kilvayne probably would have twenty strategies already prepared for fighting Reier in the wake of the IPO. But Maria was not Lucius Kilvayne. She was capable, but she was not even anticipating this, something that bothered her. She had to figure out how to be further ahead of other players if she was going to win this game. The board and the Kilvayne family were counting on her to keep the company dominant in all markets.

She sighed. This was not a simple matter of advertising or branding as the consultant's had been prattling on for weeks about. This was going to mean the Kilvayne Corporation and Ark Industries would have to continue providing innovations and practical products that kept them years ahead of Reier. Alexander Kilvayne would have set out to buy out Reier most likely, considering that was his kind of play in the past. Lucius had followed suit by allying with Gabriel Constant to conquer Ark Industries. But all of that had been through a combination of networking and opportunistic predation. Reier was not the same animal as those the Kilvayne Corporation had annexed in the past. Reier was coming up as a brazen challenger to the title of most powerful company on Earth. That would not be allowed to go unanswered. Maria was adamant on that point.

That was why Lucius had given her this position, after all. To keep his family's legacy strong. It was not a task she would fail to achieve. She had to admit though, the man named Ira Reier was a very humble smartass indeed. Acting like he wasn't poking a bear in the eye. If Lucius weren't in a coma, Reier might just be finding himself facing a shocking encounter...

Maria laughed, causing the other board members to give her stern looks. This was serious business, after all. But they weren't in her head, so they could shove it. If they had been, they would giggle a bit too. Well, they couldn't handle her thoughts anyway.

“And we cannot wait to share the projects we have in mind with you. As for our peers in the technology industry - we are pleased to join your arena.”

Maria turned off the monitor as questions began. She looked to the board and smiled.

"If he wants to play in our arena so bad, we should show him that we are gladiators. They might regret taking us on, if I have my way about it. You each direct a company that could exist in its own right, if it hadn't become part and parcel of this corporation. Some of your fields are not technology per se, but they all require a certain degree of business savvy that is rarified in this world. An advantage we have is our size, our broad market penetration. Ira Reier might come up with a technology that blows us out of the water. But we will cure cancer, in fact Dr. Kilvayne's research has already paved the way for that. We will be curing a new genetic disease every month, just based on what we learned from his work with Huntington's disease. Ark has the brightest minds in the world at their disposal, so I doubt that we will even have that much to worry about in terms of technologies development." she took a moment to breathe before continuing, " All of that in consideration, new ideas in all areas of the company would be ideal going forward. We cannot entirely rest on our laurels here. I am steeped in the pharmaceuticals and biochem aspect of this company due to my background, so I am counting on all of you to continue bringing your unique talents to the table as you have for many years before I took a seat at this table. I also expect that Mr. Constant's counsel will be invaluable to us all."

On that last note, she looked to Gabriel himself, grateful that he was able to take the time to attend this event. His best friend was in critical condition still, and Maria had to admit that she would find it hard to leave a friend when they were hanging in the balance still. But Gabe had a talent for knowing outcomes, so maybe he was able to keep a cooler head about the situation than everyone else. Maria was concerned, but they had been merely professional colleagues. They were not close enough that she would call him a friend. A kindred spirit, in some ways, a foil in others.

" Now, I think it is time we shared some of our ideas with each other. Who would like to go first?"

[Devon Ridgeman]

I can't wait for you to knock me up! In a minute, minute! In a fucking minute!
I can't wait for you to knock me up! In a minute, minute! In a second!
I can't wait for you to shut me up! And make me hip like badass!
I can't wait for you to shut me up! SHUT! IT! UP!
______________________________Mindless Self Indulgence - "Shut Me Up"

To Devon, the bedroom in the Cazenovia estate - one of many in the palatial household - was more than a simple place to rest his head at night. It might have been a little antisocial of him to do so but, after realising that everything he needed with the exception of food and adequate space to go running was within five metres of where he slept, he was quite easily able to remain within the confines of his bedroom literally from dawn until dusk, only surfacing to eat a meal with whoever else was present or keep himself clean. Although he was gradually finding it easier to be around people on a regular basis, Devon was still startlingly adept at extricating himself from the conventions of society. If he wanted to shy away from human contact for a while and basically be a hermit inside his own bedroom, then he quite easily could.

It was the perfect way for him to spend a resting day; a period of downtime between the activity mandated by his exercise regimen. After learning that Amalia liked to keep in shape by jogging most mornings, Devon had started to break out his old habits. His days of competitive running may have been well behind him, but there was something about being outside with little more than the sound of his pounding feet for company that made him feel better. Whether he ran alone or with Amalia was largely irrelevant, regardless of how their relationship may have said otherwise. At the end of the day, running was running and, as long as it was in his life in some manner, then he was sure he'd be all the better for it. If he couldn't compete, then he could at least get some exercise.

"I'd like to thank everyone for welcoming Reier Technologies so eagerly into the American market..."

The television had been on for the past couple of hours now and, for most of that time, Devon had paid no real attention to it. Having typed in a channel number completely at random for the sake of having some background noise while he lazed around in the bath, he had landed on what appeared to be a financial news channel. According to the ticker which ran across the bottom of the screen, a British technological firm had decided to begin trading on the American stock market and, to that end, its founder, namesake and figurehead, Ira Reier, had flown over and called a press conference to commemorate his company's trans-Atlantic emergence.

With a twist of the knob inches from his right hand, Devon shut off the elaborate showering apparatus above him. Instead of rushing from a mobile head which could be directed manually, the tiny jets of water were suspended in an array positioned on the roof, designed to cascade upon him like rainfall; a phenomenon Khalidah knew he was fond of. Instead of being a glass enclosed cubicle, both the bath and shower were exposed to the rest of the room, with a moat-like runoff channel and a small raised step surrounding him preventing the water from spilling out and causing a safety hazard. "...to share the projects we have in mind with you. As for our peers in the technology industry, we are pleased to join your arena. Now... are there any questions?"

"Yeah. What's with your accent, jackass?", Devon replied, quietly taunting the man on the screen. For the most part, he sounded like any other Brit he'd seen on TV. But, the more Ira spoke, fielding the questions which filtered his way from press and financiers alike, the more Devon became confused. Nothing really seemed to match up with those other celebrities and actors. Regardless, Ira seemed to be quite the eloquent orator, deftly answering everything he felt he could while giving very little away in terms of his intent. He'd mentioned projects but, up to now, he hadn't shed any light on what they actually were.

A lot of people did that, Devon thought to himself. Politicians, mostly. Business leaders, too. Devon didn't really like either of them in general. Khalidah, of course, was the glaring exception. She'd done so much for him and asked next to nothing in return save his company. She'd started him on the path to grieving, given him a place to call his own and, through numerous twists of fate, landed him a girlfriend. Amalia. A woman who loved him, despite everything else in his mind deeming her to be insane for doing so. A small - and steadily diminishing - part of him thought he didn't deserve her. She was a flight attendant on a high-end airline; the same one on which he'd flown when he first came to New York. She'd served him food and enough alcohol to get him at least slightly drunk. Even when she didn't have a clue who he was, she'd been nice to him. She was the kind of woman who, in high school, would have been way out of his league.

Devon let out a long sigh as he returned his attention to the television. As boring as it was, he couldn't bring himself to get out of the bath and change the channel. So he'd at least suffer the mild inconvenience. Maybe this Ira Reier would have fallen flat on his ass on his way out of the conference hall. His lips curling into a smile, Devon lazily arrived at a conclusion; one to which he hadn't jumped in over fifteen years.

Life was good.

[Gabriel Constant]

Kilvayne Corporation
Board of Directors Conference Room
Manhattan, New York, New York’

The future had been an especially finicky thing of late, and Gabriel was not entirely certain why. It was making the usually well-composed man somewhat nervous. As the feeling grew and grew, Gabriel decided “nervous” did not belong in his suite of feelings. So he did what he, the Architect, always did.

He made a plan.

It was still in its beginning stages. Navigating his visions had become tricky, and so he was taking it slow. His “dynamic precognition” allowed him to walk in any projected future - but they were all scrambled, they made no sense; anachronisms were everywhere, as though the past was bleeding into them. Gabriel had to wonder whether his mind was beginning to “fail him” in his growing age, but in everything else his mental acuity was as sharp as ever.

These days, he found himself needing Alexandria more than ever. She and their daughters - three years old now! - had been the best and least expected things to happen to him. Yet he suspected he was not showing it well; even as quiet and reserved as he already tended to be, he could feel himself withdrawing further, into his own thoughts.

And then there was Lucius. Gabriel cursed himself daily for having not foreseen his best friend’s injury. Now that it had happened, he checked the future daily; and, indeed, nearly all of the futures Gabriel saw pointed to Lucius’ full recovery. He was just not certain when. In time, he hoped, to do something about whatever it was that was flashing danger on the horizon. Something that Gabriel was certain had to do with Ira Reier.

Being one of a very, very few people in the room who knew about Lucius’ current condition, Gabriel was being very careful about his demeanor. Fortunately, Gabriel knew how to blend into the background. He had done so for years. Decades. Countries and regimes had fallen before him. And even in being away from his old game he had not lost his touch; just that morning he had finalized plans that ultimately put him in charge of Papua New Guinea. For now; the Oceanian country was actually a get-well-soon gift to Lucius. It was a small thing, but that little nation was sitting on some interesting resources. Plus he’d heard it was a nice place.

Gabriel glanced up at the sound of laughter. The rest of the Board did not seem as amused as Maria was, by whatever had prompted her outburst. But Gabriel considered Maria to be highly intelligent and cunning, so she was welcome to laugh however the fuck she wanted.

As for himself, Gabriel had been paying zero attention to the newscasts. He had seen them already, weeks earlier. But he gave Maria his full attention when the young woman addressed the directors.

She spoke well, with an ease in navigating the difficult points. Lucius, of course, had chosen well. He nodded when Maria looked at him, folding his hands before him. “‘Invaluable’ is a strong word to live up to, Doctor,” he said with a chuckle, “especially when you’ve spoken so well yourself. But I will do my best.”

He gestured toward the darkened monitor. “Reier wants Americans to think of him of just another guy. And that’s exactly what he’ll get. Even for all his success and fortune, he’s just a man, and he’ll meet the same fate as any other man who has faced against this corporation.” He smirked. “If he plays nice, he might even wind up in one of these seats one day.”

A lazy gesture with one hand, as though waving the problem away. “My advice is to throw Christian Moynahan and his cult of personality at it, which allows us to do what we do best: innovate.” He nodded toward Maria. “Cures, medicines, new technologies - miracles to laymen, everyday business for us. That’s what will count when all’s said and done.”

At least, he hoped his tone made it sound that simple.

[Adele D'Alteau]

Strings that bind
the purpose and reason
Eventually will break apart
this fusion

†††
۵ ۵ ۵

The Ty Warner Penthouse
Four Seasons Hotel
New York City, New York

There were times when it paid to have friends in high places, a precognitive father who could predict market trends, and a mother who was a world famous journalist who'd recently returned from Israel, covering the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. She'd left her job at CNN to become an independent contractor for 'alternative' media who dedicated their time to actual journalistic work, the likes of which had not been seen since Walter Cronkite.

When you were friends with the President and the First Lady, name-dropping had a rather powerful effect. Their entire stay at the most expensive hotel penthouse in New York was paid for, and they were allowed to stay for as long as they liked. Both Ryan and Adele hadn't been out to New York to visit their respective families in quite some time, and with pressure coming from both sides to set a wedding date and get married, the best way to get all their plans ironed out was to meet with both families in the same area.

The penthouse afforded them privacy, standing 700 feet above the New York skyline, Chinese onyx bathrooms, a spacious master bedroom with beautiful wood inlay on the doors which resembled a starburst, and an equally welcoming guest suite. There was more than enough room for the six individuals to move around without feeling like they were on top of each other.

She'd spent the better part of the day searching online for a wedding dress; both her parents and Ryan knew she wouldn't go the standard 'white wedding' route, and she was looking for something that was elegant, but not ostentatious. The one she'd kept going back to was the dress worn by Kate Winslet during the shooting of the famous film, Titanic. There was a well-known bespoke tailor in New York whom she'd read about in several fashion magazines she knew could take the design and make it into something truly original. A black wedding veil would complete the outfit, which she knew would be more fit for a funeral than a joyous occasion.

She was only half-paying attention to the man speaking at the end of the market day on Wall Street. He'd been on the news a few times before and his name sounded familiar—her mother had probably interviewed him at some point—but other than that, he was well under her radar.

Vincent took a seat next to Adele and focused intently on the television. He'd seen a new contender joining in the technology market, though he wasn't about to invest in the company just yet. A new company could come onto the market in a very bullish way, then leave a week later like a bear with its tiny tail tucked between its legs. “He's hiding something. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I don't like it.” His market analytics and his ability to read people were often spot-on, not only due to his precognition, but because he'd learned to read far beyond people's words ever since childhood. Everything someone ever said was essentially a conundrum. There were lies and false passages hidden behind every word, some of which may have been planted subconsciously or consciously by the person speaking them. The vocal cues and tones people spoke with coupled with the positioning of their body and the tiniest movements of their faces also belied the utterance of omitted lies and verbalised half-truths. “He's definitely a person who merits some further research, though I expect there will be a fair amount of layers to sift through first.”

“I've interviewed him once before for a biotechnology special on the BBC. He's a very astute man with a wealth of knowledge about the sector in which he is involved.” She'd asked him some rather off the cuff but poignant questions during that particular interview, and from what she could tell without the use of her ability, he'd been entirely truthful.

To be honest, Adele had never had much interest in the stock market; she'd just listened to her father's advice due to his ability to see market trends before they even happened—which may or may not have had anything to do with his ability. From what he'd shared with her about his younger years living in France, before he'd manifested his ability in his teenage years, he'd already earned a considerable amount of money in the Paris Bourse long before it had become the Euronext NV.

“Underneath the suit and all the press pomp and circumstance, he's a politician. Maybe not in name, but in his methods.” Ira's seemingly sudden rise to fame had given him pause. “His future is clouded to me. He must be surrounding himself with some powerful people to be blocking my Sight, albeit from so far away.”. He'd had no problem reading the futures of individuals halfway around the world to provide them with anonymous advance notice of when to sell their futures. Many individuals had become overnight millionaires to his credit.

He hoped that his initial misgivings were incorrect. Generally speaking, Vincent believed in giving people the benefit of the doubt at first, in spite of his gut feeding him the opposite information. It was a crapshoot.

“I doubt he'll be a problem for us unless he becomes a patient of mine.”

Evelyn turned her attention back to Adele when the show cut to a new segment analysing the latest Republican debate. “Quelle bande d'idiots, le lot entier d'entre eux.”

†††
۵ ۵ ۵

† Word count: 1007
۵ Mood: God, fuckin finally posted this shit.
† Outfit: Adele can be classy in anything
۵ Lyrics / Quote: Hidden, Obsidian Shell
† Illustrations: None.
۵ Comment / Informational links: Let's get this thread going!

[Ryan D'Alteau]

Pakenemme elämää henkemme edestä ja kaikesta heitämme arpaa.
Emme osaa, tai valita voi. Kruuna tai klaava.
Selitykset selittämällä tänne tilattiin helvetti ja se tullaan saamaan.
Puh-pah! Pelistä pois! Kruuna vai klaava!
______________________________Kotiteollisuus - "Kruuna/Klaava" (Heads Or Tails)

They'd been teasing and hinting at it for years. Ever since Ryan had finagled his way into the climactic scene of a Verdi opera performed in the heart of Paris to propose in a creative and memorable fashion to the woman he loved, both sets of parents had been hanging on the edges of their proverbial seats in anticipation for when the happy couple finally announced the date of their wedding day. With Adele's grandparents living there in the comfort of a cliffside villa, the decision to hold the ceremony on the beach in Saint-Tropez had been a given. The villa could comfortably accommodate a sizeable proportion of the wedding party, especially when coupled with the seclusion offered by Zosime's yacht and, from what Ryan had gathered from his last visit, he just knew Marguerite would jump at the chance to oversee the catering.

He could imagine the chaotic scene playing out in the kitchen. With he and Adele separated as per marital tradition, Marguerite would have the room - if not the villa - to herself. In a display of familial camaraderie, she would have roped in volunteers from both sides of the family to form a makeshift catering team in the vein of a restaurant. His mother would definitely have jumped at the chance and, whether from the respective matriarchs or his girlfriend, there was a half-decent chance that Darron would end up donning an apron and pitching in, too. With the wedding basically within spitting distance, Ryan's imagination of his dream wedding had gone wild.

It was precisely the reason why he and Adele had flown out to New York. Unable to withstand the nagging pressure from both families any longer, they had effectively called a meeting. With Adele's now far-reaching connections - being on first-name basis with the President and the First Lady - she had been able to gain access to the incredible penthouse suite of the Four Seasons Hotel. They had been permitted to stay in the fifty-thousand dollar-a-night room for as long as they wanted. Rather than unpacking, Ryan had spent the first hour just wandering around the suite in an awestruck daze, checking out each room in turn and wondering just what he'd get up to before he left.

Infuriatingly, with both his parents and Adele's parents also present, it wasn't going to be that much. Sex would have to wait until much later on in the evening and as for Calla..? Having not told anyone other than Adele of her 'existence', Ryan wasn't prepared to indulge her with his parents a mere car ride away. That was one subject he hadn't figured out how to approach. He doubted he ever would. He just hoped that he wouldn't let anything slip if he got drunk; an endeavour which, with the suite and its contents all paid for in advance, wouldn't have been remotely difficult.

Adele had spent most of the afternoon with her face buried in a laptop screen. She had been scouring the internet in search of the perfect wedding ensemble. As much as a part of Ryan wanted the actual ceremony to stick to some semblance of tradition, he knew that Adele was far from the type to entertain the prospect of a white wedding; to be decked out like a princess in a flowing white bridal gown. From the occasional glance he'd stolen of the sites she'd been browsing, she'd been eyeing up something akin to the turn-of-the-century dresses worn in Titanic, matched up with an ebon veil. It suggested a more funereal vibe than anything else, but nobody in the penthouse would have really expected her to settle on anything else.

"He's hiding something. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I don't like it."

Ryan hadn't been paying attention to the television at all. Despite his future mother-in-law being quite the part of the industry, the news was among the shows which bored him the most, with news revolving around the stock exchange being quite an egregious offender. What piqued his interest more was how uncertain Vincent had just sounded. This was a man gifted with the power of precognition and, up to now, he'd literally seen a number of things coming a mile away. It was part of the reason why he and Adele had skated so easily by a few of the world's recent happenings with far less evidence of effect than most. When GEIST had planned a meeting in Duluth, Minnesota, Vincent had sent over a pair of cold-weather coats a fortnight beforehand, accompanied by a cryptic message saying that they would need them soon. A lot of Vincent's contact with his daughter and her future husband had followed a similar vein; dropping hints and the occasional gift to help keep them safe.

Until he'd proposed to Adele, the thoughts of marriage - and, by extension, his dream wedding - were always far from his mind. He'd never really wondered just how he'd like his wedding to go and, ever since that evening in Paris, everything had simply fallen into place on its own; everything from the guests to the venue just sounding right whenever they came up in conversation. The only thing he hadn't dwelled on was what he would wear. To him, nothing but a finely tailored black tuxedo would have felt right. He was going to get married and, whether by social convention or too many TV shows, he wanted to wear what all grooms wore, regardless of the fact that they would be getting married on the beach.

But that didn't mean he'd abandon all semblance of youthful rebellion. He may have been twenty-six years old and about to settle down with the woman of his dreams, but he was still going to defy tradition. Even if only a little. Adele's apparent choice of a red wedding dress and black veil reminded him of her ability; of how her eyes turned black as she bent blood to her will. It was likely a coincidence more than anything else but, to him, it was a hidden message. An in-joke only he would ever get. So, then and there, he decided to sneak in one of his own. Whatever suit he decided to wear to the wedding, he was going to pair it off with a blue waistcoat. He knew she adored the tint in his own eyes whenever he left on a jaunt across the astral plane, how serene it was.

So he'd be a good husband and remind her of it.

"Quelle bande d'idiots, le lot entier d'entre eux..." Evelyn's voice caused Ryan to glance back at the television. The news was now analysing the debate between the Republicans' next batch of candidates for the presidency. "You ain't wrong," he sighed, watching as the politicians went about their business of justifying the millions of dollars which had been shovelled into their campaign accounts by faceless corporations. They might have had money and the staunchly anti-common sense crowd under their proverbial heel, but they were still up against Kilvayne. And something told Ryan that someone who had Dakari's unyielding support wasn't going to take the political battles lying down.