The Watcher

[Malkavian Riddler]

(reserved)

He\'d not been in the city two nights before he\'d been recognised by a young mortal woman, perhaps in her twenties (or younger, considering the way her makeup looked too mature for her face).  The conversation between them had held some promise, until she\'d asked for his autograph and he\'d rapidly lost interest after that, causing some pregnant pauses in the discussion between them and eventually he\'d made a noise that he was on his way somewhere.  He\'d left her with an expression on her face that seemed as though she was hunting for something exceptionally witty.  Something that would change his mind about leaving her.  Because nothing else was said, he\'d turned the corner on the street and she was soon cast out of his mind.  It had been a bittersweet event, one that told him he still enjoyed being recognised for his roles.

Last night, very early in the morning, Sunflowers and Rain had been shown on television, on the Arthouse channel.  He\'d watched it on the widescreen television of his five-star hotel in the city\'s centre, directly across the building touted as the tallest scraper in the city; called Capital Building.  During the advertisements he\'d mused at it, knowing it likely had penthouse apartments far grander than the two bedroom rooms he could rent at a nightly rate here.  It was ingrained in him to only accept the best, mainly from his original agent\'s philosophy \'Act like a King and reap Kingly rewards\' as well as Isaac\'s wealth opening a great many doors for him.  He was used to getting the best, and Capital Building - boasting its tallest prime realty - seemed to fit that bill.

Right now he was lounging on a two-seater sofa positioned against the middle section of a long wood-panelled wall, looking out at pool players and listening to the hollow smacks as overs and unders hit one another in their quest to avoid being pocketed, much to the chagrin of those carrying cues.  It was dimly lit where he sat, holding a cigarette in his right hand but content simply to let it burn and drop ash on the carpet.  There was only carpet on the seated area, where two steps upward took a spectator to a seated \'viewing deck\' (a most liberal description for the tatty area), where there was a good view of all the blue-felted tables in the room.

He could feel himself being watched, and his gaze hunted the room until he found the stare fixed on him.  Very old eyes in a young face reminded him eerily of his sire, Isaac, and he resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably from his slouched position.  He must\'ve looked quite relaxed, in his white t-shirt, belted blue jeans and brown lace-up heavy walking shoes, one of his muscular arms laid across the back of the furniture he was seated on while the other held a smoking stack that he hadn\'t yet once pressed between his lips.  He\'d hate to move and ruin that effect.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr hadn\'t meant to stare and when he was caught out, he was entirely chagrined, shifting his gaze as casually back to the table in front of him as he could.  It was just... he knew that guy, knew his face, but couldn\'t place him for the life of him.  Since he\'d seen him walk in and strike a dashing pose against some fairly unworthy furniture, the sense of familiarity had washed over the Irishman.

Systematically, he\'d tried thinking of every place he\'d been recently, every place he frequented, every face he might know from them - which was a lot more since he\'d made his lifestyle change and been exploring the city more avidly for the past fortnight.

Take tonight, for example; he\'d been out walking after work (which was becoming more of a habit now) and happened upon this pool hall.  He loved playing pool and felt a sudden pang as he thought of the exquisite table and cues he had at the mansion, now labouring beneath Sawyl\'s neglect.  On impulse, he\'d walked in and rented a table.  He didn\'t really look the part in his three piece suit, but once he\'d taken the jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his navy blue business shirt up - leaving him in a pinstriped charcoal vest and pants with a contrasting silver tie tucked into the vest - he looked a bit more relaxed.  Slightly pool sharkish, if anything, but oh well.

He\'d just finished his second game and was racking his third when this guy walked in and that cord was struck... he was so familiar, it was killing Kerr!  How could he know a face and not get a name to go with it?  Or even the place?  For some reason, this pool hall seemed like the right place for the guy to be in, but Kerr had never set foot in here, so that couldn\'t be right.  He was just desperately pondering whether he might know the guy from the past or another country when he was caught staring and looked away.

After another full minute staring blankly at balls he was no longer hitting and gnawing on his tongue stud, he decided he had to know.  What was the point standing here thinking about him when he could be simply asking?  Placing his cue decisively on the table - strategically in between the scattered balls upon it - he hooked his jacket off the chair it was thrown on and strode up to the viewing area.  He sat forward on a chair adjacent to the guy\'s - who he could now confirm was, indeed, kindred - his jacket across his lap and his elbows leaning on it.

Clasping his hands, Kerr looked intently into the face of the young man (and he felt to be a fairly young vampire, too) and cleared his throat before speaking.  "Excuse me... this may sound ridiculous, but I feel like I know you... I just can\'t place from where.  Are you able to help me out at all?" he asked in his gentle Irish accent, a frown marring his smooth forehead.  Up close, the feeling was even stronger - and the lack of identification even more annoying; he hoped like Hell this guy knew him, so this could be sorted out.

[Malkavian Riddler]

The suit also leant an eerie feeling to Isaac, a sire that Ash missed while relieved to be away from him.  Well dressed even in a seedy little place like this, screaming of money thanks to a custom-tailored suit, an older man made vampiric though not as old as Isaac\'s appearance of a man in his fifties (for even though the fellow with the short dark hair looked like he was in his mid-thirties, Ash was willing to bet a lot of money that there were centuries of wisdom behind that educated and worldly stare).  Ash shook off any further similarities that his lonely mind tried to make.  Isaac was in Hollywood - and though it was in the same country and not so long ago that Ash had woken up at his side, it could\'ve been a million miles and a lifetime ago.

The suited gent that had stared at him broke the look between them, to Ash\'s light disappointment, noticeable by the way he pressed his lips a little tighter together.  He relaxed but continued to gaze at the other, wondering if he would be looked at once more (and secretly thrilling at the fact that he might be recognised yet again).  He was in a fairly good mood, especially when the other seemed struck by the game in front of him enough to gaze at it without movement.  He\'d been caught out by Ash\'s bold meeting of eyes, and Ash was pleased to have an impact.  Even if nothing came of it, if the other shook him off and continued on, then Ash would have more of a bounce in his step leaving the building than when he\'d come in.  He didn\'t have to resign himself to accepting less, however, for an interaction was imminent.

Ash watched as the suited fellow picked up his jacket and came his way.  He was careful not to change his expression too much when he was joined, allowing only a slight tilt of his eyebrows.  It was a practised expression, one that bespoke light curiosity.  When the other vampire sat down Ash studied his dark brown eyes and saw quite the impression of age there.  An old soul.  His eyes spoke centuries like Isaac did, though Ash didn\'t feel the same kind of \'library age\' as he termed it, of old dusty tomes, as he did with Isaac and Isaac\'s stuffy friends.  There were a few centuries in the kindred across from him; he\'d guessed right.

At the question asked, there were so many different ways the conversation could go.  Ash didn\'t want to end it before it began, so anything curt or rude (or both) was out of the running.  Instead, he looked intently at the other fellow (who hadn\'t given his name, Ash noted) until he figured the best answer, and then gave it, tapping ash onto the floor a millisecond before doing so.

"It depends on what you think you know about me, brother," he said quietly, returning to old habits of acknowledging blood ties (or species ties, as this city would have it).  Isaac had trained him well.  "I don\'t recognise you, but that doesn\'t mean anything."

His golden gaze bored into the vampire across from him, willing him (but not attempting to use any of his kindred skills) not to be embarrassed and run for cover.  This one looked more interesting than the rest of the rabble about this place.  He looked like he was deeper than his three dimensions, and Ash was willing to explore that further, if he was permitted.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr exhaled a little sound of bemusement after the first statement, dipping his head in acknowledgment of the term \'brother\' - not one he\'d ever use, but it had certainly been used around him before - and then frowned as the latter statement registered.  Damn, he\'d been hoping to be recognised.

"You... haven\'t been to the Chambers of the Oligarchy recently... have you?" he asked - somewhat hesitantly, because he was loathe to advertise his position.  It was just that that seemed the most logical thing, that he\'d overseen a case for this vampire... of some sort.

[Malkavian Riddler]

The terminology found him wanting.  There was nothing recogniseable about the phrase, though \'Chambers of the Oligarchy\' sounded like a title of some sort.  Ash knew his ignorance of what the older kindred meant would likely get in the way of their potential conversation, so it was best to give himself up now.  Surrendering his ignorance on his own terms was better than to be called on it later.  Pretending he knew could only make things worse.

He offered a small smile, his lips giving more of his amusement away than he realised, and came back with a statement of his own.

"Chambers of the Oligarchy," he repeated, tasting the phrase on his own lips.  "Sounds like something I\'d find at a carnival, but you\'re too well dressed to be employed at a funhouse," Ash replied, his gaze dropping in order to take in the whole outfit while the other was watching.  He was wary that the other older kindred could find such a declaration (and looking over) to be disrespectful, especially since the terminology sounded terribly political.  In one fell swoop Ash had declared his lack of interest in such things while letting the other know that the Chambers were not where they had met.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr\'s gazed focussed on the man\'s mouth - not because it was particularly attractive or he had designs on it, because even though it was, he didn\'t, but because there was something about the way he smiled.  Something familiar yet... not.  This setting wasn\'t right, it needed to be... darker?  He\'d seen this guy somewhere dark, with shadows across his face, looking... looking resolute but nervous, for some reason.

Why the Hell would he know this about this guy, yet not know his name??

"Uh... no, not a funhouse per se - though there are certainly resemblances at times, considering," he mused, dragging his gaze up to the guy\'s eyes and away from his mouth.  His comment was witty but delivered dryly because he was so busy thinking about who this guy was, and it likely fell flat.  Especially since the guy seemed not to know anything about the Chambers... which likely meant he was from out of town.  But where out of town?

"Have you been in the city long?" he hazarded, managing to sound casual enough that the question was suave, rather than interrogative - offensively so, anyway.  God, needing to know who this guy was was like an itch he couldn\'t scratch, it was infuriating!

[Malkavian Riddler]

The fact his comment was taken well had Ash\'s opinion on this unknown male before him climbing, along with the little joke about politics being a carnival (for this was the way he viewed such things and he liked sharing the opinion with someone who seemed integrated with it).  He\'d still not been introduced to the other, though he supposed it was only fair, considering he was dancing around the topic of his own identity when he knew it could be easily solved with a single declaration about himself.  To identify himself seemed cheap though, especially now, with interest blazing in the other\'s dark stare.  He wanted to keep his mystery however, and it would be a curse of a kind for the game to be over so soon.  Entering a world of frustration wouldn\'t be good either, but if the kindred before him didn\'t guess before the end of the night, it wouldn\'t be a bad thing either.

"Not long," he replied with something straightforward.  It wouldn\'t do to be cheesily mysterious over every little question.  "But long enough to find this place and strike up a conversation," he added.  "Maybe even long enough to be invited to play a round or two."

The hint wasn\'t so much a hint and if his self-invitation was rejected without something to placate him, it was likely the conversation would end quickly.  They didn\'t have to play pool but it was a way of stretching their interaction, and Ash wanted to know how long the fellow opposite would retain his curiosity.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr chuckled, finding the hint gracious even though it was slightly obnoxious.  It was also a good chance for him to get a lot of closer looks at the guy without being rude about it.  Something would come to him eventually, he figured, if given enough time.

"It would be my honour if you\'d join me," the Irishman grinned, standing but stooping into a bow with his right hand pressed to his chest and his left sweeping down off the viewing platform and towards he table he\'d rented.  As he straightened, he looked at the guy; there was a twinkle in his eye that gave away the fact that he was about to be a bit cheeky.  "I\'m Kerr," he said leadingly, not stepping away until his companion had joined him.  He wouldn\'t hold out his hand to have it shaken until the guy was standing also.

[Malkavian Riddler]

He nodded with only a slight tilt of his head, his smile broadening a little more when his request was adhered to.

"Ash," he said, declining to give his full name much like Kerr had and extending his hand quite naturally once he was standing (and finding Kerr to be taller than him).  After the grasp, where there was no exchange of body temperature but Ash found that Kerr had quite a good handshake - not limp but not finger crushing either.

He headed for the table Kerr had abandoned, whether in front of the Irishman or behind him was inconsequential - whoever was closest took the lead.  Ash was finicky about the cue he chose however, picking each of them in turn and looking down them for accurate straightness (none of them were straight so he got the straightest one available that wasn\'t weighted).

He chalked the tip delicately with his gaze fixed on the older vampire, as though he was trying to figure him out as much as Kerr had obviously been trying to place him.

[Existentially Odd]

"Ash," Kerr repeated, tasting the name and experiencing the oddest sensation... the name didn\'t seem to fit him.  How could that be, though?  He didn\'t know his name.  Perhaps it was a false name?  Either way, it wasn\'t the one he associated with the guy.  \'The guy\', who he\'d now have to begin thinking of as \'Ash\'.  Hrmm.

Kerr followed the younger vampire down and replaced his coat on the chair it had been on before, while his companion selected a cue from the nearby rack.  He took the opportunity to re-rack the balls so they could start afresh and once he\'d replaced the triangle, he chalked his own cue.  "You break," he conceded gallantly, moving away from where he\'d positioned the white ball so that Ash could do just that.

Once he was stationed at the other end of the table, it seemed that both games would commence; the game of pool and the game in which he did his best to figure out just who Ash was and why he felt so familiar.  "So where\'d you come in from?  What city?" he asked casually; if Ash could break in one game, surely it was acceptable for him to break the other open.

[Malkavian Riddler]

Ash nodded with his barely perceptible head tilt again, skulking around the table and eyeing the balls that huddled together at one end of the table as he set the white ball a little further back than the delegated mark.

Careful not to use his vampiric strength and not pulverise either the cue ball or the cue itself, Ash still launched a rather hefty smack in order to get a good spread.  It was after a striped blue ten ball sank into a corner pocket that Ash responded to Kerr\'s simple question.

"LA," he said, giving the short and more accepted version of the city of angels.  Yes, Hollywood was in there, but LA was a big and sprawling place that called up many and varied associations.  "Visit there a lot?" he asked, hoping to throw Kerr off the scent in case he had.  It would be entertaining if Kerr began naming conferences or some such thing in the hope that Ash might\'ve been spied in the same places for the same reasons.

Ash lined up his second shot on the fifteen ball, but missed the angle and huffed to himself before gesturing for Kerr to go next.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr\'s mouth worked as he worried his tongue stud.  "No," he mused, dragging the word out as he gave the matter very obvious thought.  "Only if I have a flight layover or something - but I can\'t even remember the last time I got off the plane."

Deciding that Ash\'s city of origin was not the place he knew him from, he moved around the table to take his shot on the four ball.  He dispatched it neatly - the ball moved with what seemed to be deliberate slowness, in fact, for he was well-practiced at using his cue gently, after playing pool intermittently for hundreds of years - and he lined up on the two.  It went into the pocket in a seemingly accidental manner, but he\'d deliberately ricocheted it off the eight ball, moving it in front of one of Ash\'s balls.

Still, his mind kept returning to the letters, \'LA\' coming out of Ash\'s mouth... there was something in that, but he couldn\'t figure out what, for the life of him.  "So are you here on... business, or just visiting?" he queried, quirking an eyebrow and looking up at Ash through his lashes as he bent down to get sight on the seven ball.  None of his balls were in great positions, so after his pointed look he took the shot and was not surprised when it missed.  He straightened and stepped back from the table as his signal that it was Ash\'s turn.

[Malkavian Riddler]

Ash gave a small expression with just his brows when Kerr mentioned laying over in LA and not bothering to get off the plane.  That reeked of private jet refuelling, for anything public would mean its passengers transferred to a different flight at great inconvenience.

"Visiting," Ash answered without elaborating further, because he had no plans for the city other than living here for an unfixed amount of time.  He lined up a shot for his thirteen ball, noticing that Kerr had neatly snookered his eleven, and with gusto he sank the thirteen in a corner pocket, rebounding the white back to a not-so-great place.  Other than hitting hard and hoping, he wasn\'t playing with anywhere near the finesse Kerr exhibited - but that could change.  "I\'m holed up in the Templar Hotel, across from the Capital, but I\'m thinking of moving across.  It looks a better view at the other," he said conversationally, while lining up a difficult shot and sinking one of Kerr\'s set mistakenly thanks to a lot of rebounding.  Hell, at least the eight ball was now out of the way.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr laughed with genuine amusement, instinctively watching where all the balls on the table landed (as good players are wont to do) before his laughter subsided and he grinned over at Ash.  "The view is pretty spectacular - you can come check it out from my place, if you like.  I live on the second highest floor."

There was a challenge in his voice as he leaned down to sink his one ball and it had nothing to do with pool.  Not only had he blatantly told the other where he lived and how much money he was therefore capable of spending, but he\'d also subtly invited Ash to do the same.  If he came to check out the penthouse, he could be being a tourist, or he could also have a similar amount of money behind him and be prepared to move into the building.

The top floor penthouse was available, Kerr knew, but after all the trouble he\'d gone to having the specialised shutters fitted to his place, it hardly seemed worth it to move upstairs and gain a couple of metres towards the view and a whole lot more floor space he no longer needed.  The thought of just why he no longer needed so much living space caused an unexpected pang and it threw off his shot for the one - so badly he afforded his competitor two shots on his next go.

"Damn.  Two shots for you," he conceded, straightening away from the table and grasping his cue in both hands as he looked at Ash - his demeanour suddenly broody, even though he was keeping his thoughts deliberately on the mystery at hand rather than letting them slide towards Jack or Ben. Ash was a good distraction.

Now, the money thing was something else that he associated with Ash - though he still had no clue why - and he wondered if that angle would give him some answers... perhaps they\'d met in one of his real estate deals?  Ash had only just got to the city, though...  "So if you\'re thinking of buying, you must be visiting for a while, then?"

[Malkavian Riddler]

"Second highest," Ash repeated, reaffirming the challenge while his smile took on a more smug note.  "Anything wrong with the top floor I should know about before I move in?" he replied playfully, though there was a note of seriousness in his voice.  If the very top floor was available, then he would have it, because the top floor would hold only the best apartments (or apartment, if the top floor was dedicated) and he was used to having the best.

He smirked at the miss Kerr made, thinking mistakenly that the other was brooding over both being called short from the creme of apartments while also losing a good shot.  Ash took aim and struck, sinking his previously snookered eleven ball and luckily setting himself up for the fifteen.  After sinking that too, he still had two up his sleeve and used them both to position the twelve.  He wasn\'t able to sink it, but a breath on the ball would have it plopping into the corner pocket.  The white was opposite the rest of the balls at this stage, and the black was hovering dangerously near a side pocket.

"Yours," he said unnecessarily, returning to chalk his cue once more, as though this would give him better skills.