Patrollogs
(Colton's bargaining)
[Mon Feb 24 2025]
In Town Hall Northern Meeting Room
It is about 20F(-6C) degrees.
His features tightening as he looks representative of The Vampire Empire up and down, Colton lets out a little grunt of distaste before he speaks.
"The Argent Conclave doesn't do a whole lot of work with vampires," he says. "And that's not going to change. But we /are/ a collective of werewolves, and it's not so hard for us to choose not to be somewhere if we're suitably compensated for it. So give us your god damn money and maybe we won't shred your forces wherever we meet - because we aren't /going/ to meet. Then again; you could just skip paying us. I don't see it going well for you, but we could use the exercise."
Judging by the scowl on Colton's features and the tension between himself and representative of The Vampire Empire, it's quite possible whatever diplomatic efforts are being undertaken by this society are not very diplomatic at all. It shouldn't take a great deal of grace to wrangle this one away from Colton.
Peyton strides into the dimly lit meeting room, the rhythmic click of her high heeled boots cutting through the silence as she steps with easy confidence. The glow from her phone screen fades as she tucks it away, hazel eyes adjusting to the darkness with no trace of hesitation. "Evenin', y'all," she greets smoothly, her warm Southern accent honeyed but composed, the brightness in her tone tempered just enough to fit the room. She stops just short of the gathered figures, Colton included, her expression open, all easy diplomacy and unshaken charm. "I appreciate y'all takin' the time. I figure we might have somethin to offer each other. A mutual understanding at the very least." She produces a crisp manilla envelope from inside her pretty longcoat and proffers it like she's holding out a slab of meat to a tiger, overextending just a touch as she leans forward to slide it across the table.
Stepping over and reaching down to plant the tip of a finger down atop Peyton's slid-forth letter and pin it against the table, Colton looks Peyton up and down with a little sneer, long enough to get a good look at her bangle. He lifts an eyebrow, then, releasing the envelope. "Who the hell are you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and rough. It's not a smoker's voice so much as someone who might've breathed in a little too much acid in his life. "The Order finally getting back into the game now that Harriet's back, huh?"
Peyton flinches just slightly at the sudden weight on the letter, her fingers tightening reflexively before she smooths it over just as quickly. Her hazel eyes flick up to meet Colton's sneer, the brief hesitation replaced by something steadier. "Peyton," she offers, her warm Southern accent rolling through the word as she straightens just enough to settle herself. "And yes, Im with the Order," she continues, her voice easy but firm. Her manicured nails drum lightly against the envelope, the slow, deliberate rhythm filling the pause between them. "She has been missed." She admits, carefully.
Coltons Bargaining 250225
(Colton's bargaining)
[Mon Feb 24 2025]
In Town Hall Northern Meeting Room
It is about 20F(-6C) degrees.
His features tightening as he looks representative of The Vampire Empire up and down, Colton lets out a little grunt of distaste before he speaks.
"The Argent Conclave doesn't do a whole lot of work with vampires," he says. "And that's not going to change. But we /are/ a collective of werewolves, and it's not so hard for us to choose not to be somewhere if we're suitably compensated for it. So give us your god damn money and maybe we won't shred your forces wherever we meet - because we aren't /going/ to meet. Then again; you could just skip paying us. I don't see it going well for you, but we could use the exercise."
Judging by the scowl on Colton's features and the tension between himself and representative of The Vampire Empire, it's quite possible whatever diplomatic efforts are being undertaken by this society are not very diplomatic at all. It shouldn't take a great deal of grace to wrangle this one away from Colton.
Peyton strides into the dimly lit meeting room, the rhythmic click of her high heeled boots cutting through the silence as she steps with easy confidence. The glow from her phone screen fades as she tucks it away, hazel eyes adjusting to the darkness with no trace of hesitation. "Evenin', y'all," she greets smoothly, her warm Southern accent honeyed but composed, the brightness in her tone tempered just enough to fit the room. She stops just short of the gathered figures, Colton included, her expression open, all easy diplomacy and unshaken charm. "I appreciate y'all takin' the time. I figure we might have somethin to offer each other. A mutual understanding at the very least." She produces a crisp manilla envelope from inside her pretty longcoat and proffers it like she's holding out a slab of meat to a tiger, overextending just a touch as she leans forward to slide it across the table.
Stepping over and reaching down to plant the tip of a finger down atop Peyton's slid-forth letter and pin it against the table, Colton looks Peyton up and down with a little sneer, long enough to get a good look at her bangle. He lifts an eyebrow, then, releasing the envelope. "Who the hell are you?" he asks, his voice gravelly and rough. It's not a smoker's voice so much as someone who might've breathed in a little too much acid in his life. "The Order finally getting back into the game now that Harriet's back, huh?"
Peyton flinches just slightly at the sudden weight on the letter, her fingers tightening reflexively before she smooths it over just as quickly. Her hazel eyes flick up to meet Colton's sneer, the brief hesitation replaced by something steadier. "Peyton," she offers, her warm Southern accent rolling through the word as she straightens just enough to settle herself. "And yes, Im with the Order," she continues, her voice easy but firm. Her manicured nails drum lightly against the envelope, the slow, deliberate rhythm filling the pause between them. "She has been missed." She admits, carefully.