Feb 10 22:50:25 108 PA - Mission Accomplished

From Chronicles

Feb 10 22:50:25 108 PA.

THE ALIBI

The weather continues to be terrible, another rotten winter in Missouri. Thus, it's not overly shocking that the Alibi, a moderately-classy establishment, is moderately-full, of moderately-classy people. A bit of "upscale casual," and as with every Saturday, it's essentially amateur night up on stage. When Gabriel comes in through the doorway - apparently having no weapons to check - escorting Monique and her polar guardian, with a bit of explanation and promises of non-violence from the beast, he guides her toward an open table, one hand on the small of her back. Because that's the way that men honorably treated women in the early half of the Twentieth Century. He'll show her, and her polar friend, a place to sit, stopping only to remove his Fedora before pulling out a seat for her. "There you go, Miss Monique. I'm glad that ten o'clock wasn't too late for you."

Winter! Yay! For Monique, winter is something to be cherished. It reminds her of home, but not so much as to make her homesick for it. Or maybe she's just gotten past the homesick part of things, finally. She follows Gabriel to where he leads, the Alibi gaining a moment of study from her before she actually steps inside. Though she doesn't necessarily like the process, she does check her weapons -- which turn out to be a few more than were visible on her person. It's a good collection, really, but none of them could be considered modern or technological in nature. The polar bear follows her, eyeing the guards and giving a rumble. He's not about to let her without his company. The small Inuit woman follows him over to the table, a bit of a blush in her cheeks. She gives a small nod to him at the chair he's pulled out for her, and she settles there in typical fashion -- cross-legged, her parka left to hang on the back of the chair. "Is only too late when am asleep. Never too late otherwise," she says, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. "Thank you," she adds, giving a small nod to him.

"Good, good. Quite the collection you carry with you, Miss Monique I only had my blade and pistol," Gabriel comments to the Eskimo woman. "Wouldn't have thought that you'd need that kind of thing." His own dark eyes sparkle as well. After all, his features are very Slavic - if that word means anything today. Especially today in North America. He scoots her forward into the table, not commenting on her cross-legged stance. There might be a little dancing hint of subterfuge behind his eyes, but not directed at her as something to be concerned about. Just... something. As he seats himself, his leather Fedora is set neatly to the side, passing across one of the small menus of appetizer-type foods that the Alibi carries. It's certainly not the Nightingale, but Gabriel seems happy to be there, and dressed appropriately casually. "So. You have any urges to toss a knife at anyone yet?" His face breaks into a smile. In fact, that's fairly common, as he often cannot contain his own amusement at himself, knowing that he's usually the one drastically out of place.

"Always have weapons. Need for when hunt, for when fish. Easier to always have, then not need worry if forgotten somewhere," Monique says, a smile touching her lips. She blushes a little as he pushes her closer the table, her hands resting in her lap. She raises an eyebrow slightly as she looks up at him, perhaps wondering at that something she sees in his eyes. Shifting a little bit, her dark-eyed gaze turns to pan over the other patrons within the Alibi, but returns to him swiftly enough with the question. "Not tonight, yet. Once before, yes," Monique says softly, then lifts one of her shoulders in a faint shrug. The man deserved it, and perhaps worse.

"Hmm, so I heard," Gabriel replies to Monique's last comment. "Mind if I ask why... and who the target was? Doesn't seem like tossing a knife would really be your style. More of a 'turn the other cheek' gal. Besides -" he looks at Tornaq with that same steady, calm gazes he always offers the bear "- I thought that Tornaq here was supposed to do that kind of thing for you."

The small Inuit woman tilts her head to one side, looking to him for a moment, and then she lifts one of her shoulders in a faint shrug. "He name Mikjel," she says softly, her dark eyes having a slightly distant cast to them. "Normally not get angry. When angry, not always think right. He make angry. I overhear some tell others things he do. Things that make him betrayer, to me. I hear he here, so I come. I see him with other woman. I not let Tornaq come inside, I make him stay outside," she says softly, then faintly shakes her head. "Tornaq protect me, yes. But, I protect him, same," she adds, looking to Gabriel and giving a small nod.

Gabriel nods, not understanding really, but understanding enough that there is some kind of unusual, probably magical bond between the little Eskimo girl and her companion bear. "This Mikjel, he's from your own land, then? Or... was?" He quirks an eyebrow. "He was supposed to be like you, a healer, but was doing bad things? Hurting people instead of helping? But you know what they say." The older man seems very serious, making a gesture of throwing a knife, and scrunching his face in a demonstration of anger - not actual anger, just pantomimed - "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

Monique softly shakes her head, her dark gaze holding to Gabriel. "He not from North. I meet him here, after be here for a while," she says softly, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. Shifting her position slightly, she lowers her gaze to look to her hands where they rest in her lap. "Mikjel not like me. He... what they call? ... man for hire? Weapon for hire? He make friend of me. Make more than friend. I not smart, not see what he do, not know until too late," she says quietly, giving a soft sigh. She blames herself for not knowing what he was doing with other women. "I come here because I want see if what others say is true. I see him, with other woman," she says quietly, then lifts one of her shoulders in a faint shrug. Mikjel betrayed her trust, and it's not something to be taken lightly by her.

The older man nods, a slight frown on his face that may not entirely encompass simply this other man betraying trust. "I think that you're looking for the word, 'mercenary.' Mercenaries are bad people, in my estimation. I hate it when people call me a mercenary, because I am *NOT* a mercenary." Gabriel leans hard on the negative. "I don't fight for money, I don't ask for money, I do what I believe is right for people who need to have things done because they can't do it themselves. Sorry," he says, possibly referring to his minor speech. "So Mikjel was a mercenary and you two were... um... how do I ask this?" Eyes shoot around the room uncomfortably for a few moments. "Ah, you were together, Biblically speaking? But he was also with other women? Biblically speaking?" Of course, it's unlikely that the phrase 'Biblically speaking' will mean anything to Monique, or indeed, to anyone else. But it's what he knows.

The small Inuit woman glances towards Tornaq, though the great white bear is staying rather uninvolved in the conversation. If he'd had his way, Mikjel would have been missing some parts when he left. Monique turns her attention back to Gabriel, listening to him, and her brow furrows for a moment. "Not understand what mean, with words," she says softly. "But, think know what mean, by way of speak. We were together, yes. As men and women are," she says, a little smile touching at the corners of her lips. "Always need for people do what right," she says, giving a small nod.

"Yes, always need for people do what right," Gabriel parrots back with a grin. His drawl versus her grammar? Touché! "I won't ask you any further about that. It's obviously a personal subject that I needn't know about unless you want to speak on it. Have you been outside the city, helping people? By which I mean these 'adventures' that people are so fond of talking about?" Gabriel and Monique are seated rather centrally, the man in his casual clothing, and Monique in... possibly her only set of clothing. Tornaq, of course, is seated nearby, but apparently happy with Gabriel at the moment.

Blinking at him, Monique giggles softly at his parroting. "I not have better words. I try. Am better than was when first left North," she says, giving a small nod. "Can ask whatever want, but asking not mean get answer looking for. Was bad time for little while, but... better now. Did want hunt him for while, want cause equal hurt, but... I not do, it not right," she says thoughtfully, a smile touching her lips. "I go outside city sometimes, but usually for hunt. I offer help, sometimes... think people not understand," she says softly, her brow furrowing a little. "People see Tornaq, people be afraid," she adds, then lifts one of her shoulders in a small shrug. She glances around for a moment, across the establishment, and then she speaks in a whisper, in her native tongue of Inuit. Tornaq listens, then rumbles softly, reaching out to nose at her shoulder briefly before stepping out through the doors and plunking his ass right next to the doors. Waiting with infinite patience. And guarding.

Monique has more than one set of clothing. They're just all the same, so that when she dresses to go hunting before dawn she can be in a matching outfit without lowering herself by flicking on a light switch! Sebastien appears in the crowd from the direction of the office, shrugging to himself. The young man is in blue jeans and a brown button down, looking positively normal as he raises a hand to a nearby waiter, eyes lighting on the exiting bear before he orders something and stalks Monique. With a smirk. Gabriel might catch sight of Sebastien, hiding dramatically behind a pair of bemused socialites. Their giggles might alert Monique, but in this din ... who could say?

Yes, Gabriel is a trained military specialist, and despite the fact that he's enjoying a casual conversation, he's also ready to jump up and try to kill someone, if need be. Thus, Sebastien's entrance does not go unnoticed. Neither is it acknowledged with more than a very, very slight nod. After all, he dragged the little Ekimo girl here nearly against her will, so it's his job to make her feel at home. "Again, not to pry, but how many people do you really know here? Everything can be scary if you're not used to seeing it. The old Indians were afraid of flash photography."

Monique, use a light switch? It can't happen! Never! She has a variety of clothes, really, it's just a lot of them look similar. She glances towards the direction the bear left in, then gives a soft sigh before her attention turns back to Gabriel. "I not know many people here. Have known some, but... most of some are gone. I not know number, to be able say how many, but... small some," she says softly, turning a little wistful. She's made friends here and there, but most of them are gone now. For the moment, it would seem that Monique doesn't notice that Sebastien is stalking her. "What flash photography?" she asks, tilting her head to one side. She doesn't even know what it is.

A small flurry of motion, and a pair of hands rest lightly on Monique's shoulders, followed by Sebastien's smiling face coming 'round to plant a light kiss on her cheek. Has to be him -- he smells like wet saddle soap and old hay. The hands dig in to squeeze at Monique's shoulders, and Sebastien utters, "Salut mademoiselle." The look he gives her is joyous and all-consuming, and in that moment she's the only thing in his world. Then slipping about towards a chair Sebastien peers over at Gabriel, giving him a quizzical look. "Poof! Flash of light, and there is a picture. Monsieur Gabriel comes from some strange place where the natives don't know even simple magic."

At the touch of the hands coming unexpectedly to rest upon her shoulders, the small Inuit woman startles, giving a mild eep at the same time. The kiss to her cheek, and the familiar smell of him, is at least enough to make her relax again, and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Mmm... feel good," she says softly, about the way his hands move on her shoulders. Monique tilts her head slightly to one side, looking to Sebastien. "I not understand. How it work?" she asks, raising an eyebrow slightly and studying him.

Gabriel allows himself a small laugh and winks at Monique. "Sorry, little Eskimo girl, but I let him sneak up on you. It was just too easy." He smiles, then his eyebrow slowly quirks up at the apparent closeness between the two. "The two of you seem to be... very good friends? Although I have to say, if what I heard about you diving into a freezing river to free an Eskimo with obvious magical powers... perhaps you don't know her so well?" His voice ends in a tiny laugh.

"I'm not entirely sure," Sebastien confesses, giving an apologetic smile as he slides into his seat. "Oh, the light helps the camera see. It comes suddenly." He closes his hands together and leans forward, 'flashing' the fingers outward with a popping noise from his mouth, "but as to exactly *how,*" he laughs, "I couldn't tell you." He glances between Monique and Gabriel, mouth tightening at the question, and he explains, "Monique is my ..." He peers at her, eyes narrowing. "Girlfriend? I suppose that word is as good as any?" He looks to her for confirmation.

Monique's brow furrows a little bit at Sebastien's less than enlightening explanation of flash photography. She wrinkles her nose a little bit, but then lifts one of her shoulders in a slight shrug as though to dismiss the notion of photography in general. "Not have photographs," she says softly, her tone thoughtful in nature. Her attention turns to Gabriel, and she tilts her head to one side. "He not know because I not tell. It not his fault he not know I fine in cold water," she says, raising an eyebrow and looking between the men for a moment. "He know now to listen, though," she points out, quirking a smile. She gives a nod to Sebastien, confirming that his chosen word is good. "Yes. Am that. I meet Sebastien first, when come to Kingsdale," she comments, a smile lighting her features.

The older man laughs rather loudly. "Miss Monique, a boyfriend, in my estimation, should have known through simply being with you that you were in no danger. By observing you at that moment. And -" he pauses a bit dramatically "- from what I heard, Tornaq wasn't bothered at all. From what you've told me, he would have been very upset if you'd been in trouble." Gabriel offers a huge wink to both. "Still, I'm not a doctor of relationships, so who am I to say. But I have been married." On that note, Gabriel takes the opportunity to take a long pull on his translucent brown bottle of Donovan's Fizz, Kingsdale's finest soda.

Sebastien shrugs and gives his head a little shake, replying, "Monsieur, that is a fine thing to say. And in retrospect, oui, je crois que c'est ca, but in the heat of the moment?" His blue eyes turn to Monique, lips pursing, and he clicks his tongue. "Well, that's something else, isn't it?"

Monique takes a moment to look from one of the men back to the other, blinking a little as though attempting to figure something out. "He try to save from water, think I in danger from cold... he want protect me, and I not find fault there," she says softly, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. "Tornaq not worried, but Tornaq be with me for long time, many moons. Tornaq see me swim in North ocean, no clothes -- he swim with, there," she says. Perhaps giving more information than is necessarily required, but giving it all the same.

Gabriel arches an amused brow. "Wise men put their trust in ideas, not in circumstances." Still, he allows a nod to Monique. "Of course. How could a girl not be flattered when her man makes a courageous dash to her rescue? Truly admirable. Perhaps some day the two of you will fight along side one another, and love one another, as Natasha an I did. Maybe have little Eskimo and... uh... Sebastien children skittering around a shared home?" He's obviously teasing, but also obviously enjoying himself at their expense. Sip from the Fizz.

"Your wise man," Sebastien muses, "could be right ninety-nine times of a hundred, and still that one would eat at his soul. But!" He notes, glancing at Monique, "I have convinced this one to come with me out of the city only once, and when she did all we did was hide amongst a grand battle. Hide and take notes. I think I have never actually seen her fight." He narrows his eyes, peering at Monique. "But I have seen her skinny dipping, come to think of it! We should investigate bathing suits."

Monique snorts softly at Sebastien's suggestion of bathing suits, and then she shakes her head. "I not need what you call, bathing suit. I like water, like feel on skin without things in way," she says, looking to him. "I swim in lake in park, mostly when park empty," she adds, giving a small nod. Her attention turns to Gabriel, and a blush creeps into her cheeks. "Maybe... have not yet speak of such, so... maybe," she says softly, a little smile touching at the corners of her lips. In the meanwhile, there are... precautions.

"Oh, little Monique, I enjoy your company because it's so easy to make you blush," says Gabriel with a friendly wink. "The Plaza lake seems to be a popular swimming hole. Skinny dipping, at that. Miss Daeni, God rest her soul, loved it. I can handle water like that for about ten minutes, which as about twice as long as your average man who will succumb to hypothermia in only five. Good training with the Raiders." He then goes on to make a few notes about the condition. "First you feel bitterly, painfully cold. Then your body temperature begins to drop, and your body pulls its heat into your critical internal organs, primarily your heart, in an attempt to sustain itself until your can warm yourself up. If you were on land, or if you were rescued quickly, you might survive. But in water? Your internal organs are sustained at the expense of your extremities. You lose muscle control, you can no longer swim - and you drown from the cold." The Raider colonel nods sagely. "One reason we spend time in Alaska and other arctic places training. It's really a bitch." Grin.

Sebastien snaps his fingers, pointing at Gabriel. "Hey! Stop giving her ideas." He slides his chair around the table towards Monique, stopping beside her to lean over and -- not quite whisper, until he raises a hand go cover their lips. And *then* he passes along some message, looking deadly serious before nodding at the woman, meeting her eyes.

The small Inuit woman tilts her head a little to one side, listening to Gabriel, and then she looks briefly to Sebastien. "I see happen to others, from cold, from cold water," she says softly, giving a small nod. She chooses not to elaborate further on the issue of the cold water, though. "I like North, miss it sometimes," she muses, a bit of a frown touching her lips. She eyes Sebastien, then snorts softly. "I not care, I like furs better, still," she comments, then sticks her tongue out at him in an almost petulant manner. It's a long-standing 'sort-of' argument between the two.

Gabriel slowly makes it to his feet, shuffling his chair back in so that people won't trip over it. The bottle of Donovan's Fizz is drained, and he offers a short bow to both. "Mission accomplished. I dragged Miss Monique in here, tried to show her a good time, and now she's smiling. As the superheroes say, 'my work is done here, and it's time for me to move on to others who need me.'" The older man smirks, a smirk which grows into a wide and toothy grin. "You lovebirds enjoy yourselves. I'll catch you around the city. No more skinny dipping while people are still around in the Park." That said, he nods once more and makes for the exit.

Sebastien agrees, "I like that suggestion! Your public skinny dipping days are over." He leans in to nip at Monique's vulnerable tongue, and grins, making a pleased sound as his order finally arrives. One for him, and one for the woman. They look less fizzy than Gabriel's pussy drink.

Monique raises an eyebrow slightly as she looks to Gabriel, and then she laughs light, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. "Yes! Mission good!" she agrees, giving a small nod. "I always careful when swimming. Be safe, Gabriel," she says softly, watching him as he departs. Her attention returns to Sebastien, and to the drinks delivered, and she studies him for a moment. "Still, you try?" she inquires, winking at him.

Scene fades out as Gabriel exits, Monique and Sebastien enjoy their drinks and the rest of the evening.