Difference between revisions of "1860/AWftF: Dragon Ball Negotiations (Again)"

Revision as of 09:11, 24 March 2015

Serori (37) has posed:
Papaya Island! Home of the World Martial Arts Tournament! Bustling hubbub of...activity?

Turns out that without a tournament, Papaya Island's actually kinda boring. There aren't too many tourists around, so it's pretty much just the natives and the monks left in the off-season, and they may be colorful, but they like their rest. The tropical paradise becomes an almost sleepy little haven without all those blaring television screens and constant music. The lack of air traffic restores the night sky to its spangled sparkly beauty. A cantina or two provide more vivacious entertainment in the form of musical performers, but other than that, the loudest thing around is the ocean itself.

One of the more upper-class establishments still open outside tournament dates has almost nobody at its tables. There are no more than three or four couples in the main dining room, and the ocean-side patio is all but empty. One waiter stands ready near the patio's door, and one woman sits at a broad table, enjoying the view and the appetizers as she awaits her distinguished company.

Serori's been here awhile, but since the sun's only just slipped down the horizon, it makes sense that she'd be waiting. First, she doubts very much that Dracula would like to be roasted alive for the occasion. Second, the air gets a lot less muggy and hot once the sun is down, and that means Sarah might actually be comfortable, if she ever actually can be comfortable. Psyber...probably doesn't give a fuck about the arrangements so long as everyone comes away from the table intact, so Serori doesn't care about accommodating his special needs, whatever they are. They'll be alone – just the four of 'em, cozy as can be – and able to partake of good food.

That's all that matters, right?

Sarah (316) has posed:
There's something peaceful about a place like this at rest, surrounded by the soothing roar of the distant surf and the balmy breeze of a tropical island. For one of the Union's two negotiators, the location couldn't be better, for several different reasons.

Put simply, Sarah likes the ocean. It's a comforting presence, it's a handy weapon, a defense, and just having it near puts her at ease. Humidity also tempers the air, and makes climates both warm and cool far more palatable for her.

So it is that she arrives today, dressy and classy as usual. Surprisingly, she isn't wearing her usual Harmonian dress, but a nice evening gown in a tasteful shade of blue that matches her sapphire earrings. Silver-thread embroidery along the collar and hems provides subtle accents that gleam when the light catches them; the hems of the sleeves are worked similarly, and the collar is completed by a silver-lined sapphire not unlike the ones in her earrings. Pretty classy, all told, and still modest enough to be her typical style. She carries her greatstaff, as well, although she carries it in a way that's unassuming and probably not threatening.

Probably.

Maybe. The people they're meeting know what they're capable of, and Psyber has seen the cosmic forces she can wield, to world-shattering effect. She is anything but weak... but water is an excellent foil to anyone with any ounce of fire.

It is adaptable, composed, and seemingly placid; three qualities Sarah has long since made her own throughout her life.

She seats herself directly across from Serori, nodding in greeting to the Saiyan. Is that a hint of a smile? Just for pre-emptively soothing ruffled feathers' sake? "Good evening, Colonel."

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
Almost as soon as the sun has set behind the horizon, the towering shape of Dracula Vlad Tepes strides out to the patio where Serori sits. The Lord of Darkness doesn't necessarily fit in this kind of environment, and he certainly hasn't chosen to dress the part, but he of all people hardly cares if his fine clothes of black, gold, and crimson stand out in the resort restaurant of Papaya Island.

His large frame doesn't exactly fit in at the table Serori has chosen, either, but he offers no complaint as he casts his hands behind him to billow back his cape before settling into the seat beside her. He looks down to offer Serori a light nod of greeting and a brief smile, then sits up straight with his elbows resting on the table and his fingers laced together.

When Sarah arrives, she's not given anything so friendly as a smile, but Dracula does nod respectfully in greeting to her. "Captain. A pleasure to have you join us tonight. I assume your company is not far behind?"

Psyber (253) has posed:
For the record: Psyber doesn't mind the weather and is happy to get out of 30-degree Boston, with its freezing rain and cold winds.

Despite the heat, Psyber shows up dressed like a professional. Black suit, crisp-white shirt, red tie and a black overcoat. He looks more like a prosecuting attorney than a negotiator. Then again, the last time he did this he was wearing a t-shirt that says 'I Got Crabs in Boston' and a pair of denim jeans, so yeah. His wardrobe is pretty varied depending on who he deals with.

He has a leather satchel that he carries over one shoulder and is wearing his longer coat despite the heat and muggy weather that the day-turned-night may still retain. As he arrives at the table not too long after Sarah, he sets down his bag and takes up a position on one side, between Dracula/Serori and Sarah's opposite-facing seats. He will sit across from no one, mostly out of stubbornness.

"Greetings, Field Marshal. Colonel. Captain. I apologize for my lateness, if there is any. I do still teach classes during the mornings and with General Hall indisposed, my personal workload has greatly increased as I attempt to assume some of his former responsibilities."

Any emotion he feels to Dracula's presence, which is probably akin to when an Apex Predator encounters a different, equally powerful predator, is kept closely contained. Psyber simply sets down into his chair.

"Shall we cut right to business?"

Serori (37) has posed:
Serori's eyes flit up and down Sarah's form in that quick, curious way women reserve for one another. "Aah, you look nice tonight, Captain. Treating this as a special occasion, hmm? You know me; I seldom dress up." The saiyan shrugs, plucks at the stretchy front of her typical spandex-like battlesuit, and flashes a sharp grin. "But look, I'm not wearing armor, so I probably don't want to fight you."

Bread is set out in steaming baskets along with pats of butter and honeybutter and flat knives. Having already dug into some chili-lime shrimp skewers, Serori's not too interested in bread, but she takes a piece anyway, because food is food.

Once the Field Marshal's settled, she cocks an eye up at him, and salutes him with her butter knife. Without remark, she offers him a shrimp skewer, because it's polite to share, and she's supposed to be polite this evening. Naturally, he'll refuse, and she'll get to eat it anyway, so it's a win-win.

Psyber's entrance takes her attention. Like Sarah, he gets the up-and-down look, though for a different reason. For whatever reason, Serori's not had much direct interaction with the mythical man, and so this is one of the few chances she's had to really size him up.

"You know, if Lord Dracula ever favored a more modern attire, you might have to give him the number of your tailor, Colonel. Welcome. So sorry to hear about General Hall, but I'm happy enough to meet with you."

Serori hmms around a shrimp, then gestures with the denuded skewer. "You have one of my Dragon Balls. I want it back. I have a few offers in mind, though nothing specific. Prisoners, target zones, that kind of thing. What I'd like to know first is whether or not either of you two have a price tag in mind already."

What had been a pretty chill demeanor turns a little hard as tonight's subject is broached. Just as the waiter comes around to take drink orders – good evening, here's the wine list, et cetera – Serori finishes off her last shrimp with a bite that's almost ferocious. Chomp.

Sarah (316) has posed:
Folding her hands primly in her lap, the Runebearer inclines her head toward Dracula in respectful gesture, sapphire earrings clinking softly. The sound is almost musical, and her pale, almost colourless eyes track the Field Marshal. She watches him as one would watch an apex predator when they, themselves, are not one.

Sarah is confident enough to defend herself, but she is not so arrogant as to put herself on the same level as the man who holds the Confederacy together.

"Field Marshal. Colonel."

Her greeting to both Dracula and Psyber is soft, as though she were willing his attention to slide away from her; although not necessarily afraid, she seems more content when she isn't being focused on directly.

Serori earns a slow, deliberate arch of one pale brow, eyes hooded in casual indifference. "One never places their faith in 'probably' when it comes to business matters, Colonel." There's more she might say, but she's interested in keeping things calm tonight, and so she simply flashes her most polite-looking, winter-cold smile.

See, that's the benefit of using runes. She can still fight while wearing something nice, if she absolutely has to.

A piece of bread is neatly plucked up and buttered, with all the fastidiousness of a cat, once Serori's gone through the ritualistic offering-and-refusing of food. She nibbles at it delicately, watching Serori as she gives her explanation, but offers no comment.

It's Psyber's show, now. Besides, she's rather busy ordering a nice expensive half-glass of white wine, because damn it, she went to the effort of treating this with enough gravity to dress nicely, and she's going to act the part.

Besides, that's another nice benefit to runes. She can cheat and water down her wine, and nobody's going to know the difference.

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
Psyber's presence immediately draws Dracula's attention. Yes, both of them are powerful in their own right, but their absolutely opposing natures are impossible to overlook. One practically the embodiment of chaos and darkness, the other a herald of light and a guardian angel; it would be a stretch to find sides that are more at odds with one another. For his part, however, Dracula only regards Psyber through the faint leer of his draconic gaze for a few moments before offering a nod of greeting. This isn't the first time he's had to deal with celestial, holy beings, and it certainly won't be the last. "Good evening, Colonel. Do send my regards to the General, if you would; whatever is bothering him must be quite troublesome indeed. You have my sympathy for needing to pick up his slack."

Serori's offered shrimp is taken as expected: a polite lift of the hand in denial before Dracula's attention is shifted back to their guests. The Field Marshal doesn't comment on anyone's clothing, but he never really bothers himself with that sort of thing anyway. Serori's idle remark to Psyber is only met with a light smirk before he straightens up, rests his hands on the table, and prepares for a night of negotiation and discussion.

He lets Serori's comment start them off, then turns his rapt attention to Sarah and Psyber to await their response. Best not to reveal what they're willing to offer first, in his opinion, lest the opposition think them too generous. The waiter is also promptly ignored. Dracula does not drink...wine.

Psyber (253) has posed:
Psyber gives Serori a polite smile and then looks at the bread. He takes a slice of bread and sniffs it a couple time before sitting it on a small plate in front of himself.

"Ah. My current tailor is a young girl by the name of Tomoyo Daidouji. Perhaps you have seen her ads on the news networks. I am sure she would enjoy any extra business, as she's an up and coming fashion artist." He notes diplomatically. He, like Serori to him, never had much interaction with the Saiyan. So she gets a lookover. Dracula, he knows well enough. One of the few humanoid Elites that stands taller than him.

"Glass of Bowmore 25 if you have it. Glenmorangie if you don't. Nothing under 18 years. No ice."

His drink order is concise and clear to the waiter. He rubs his hands together and then looks to Serori, avoiding a glance at Dracula as he does so. He can feel the tension around the negotiation.

"No need for sympathy. This is the nature of my friendship with Nathan. Where one of us is stymied, the other will succeed. It is why we work together so fluidly."

Psyber places his hands under his chin and then shuts his eyes. He thinks for a moment and speaks.

"When I negotiated for the first Dragon Ball, I did so for two reasons. The first was that the Confederacy had something I immediately wanted and which benefitted the entire faction. The second was that I was hedging my bets that the Union could capture a second to make my original forfeiture moot."

He smiles a bit, "I was right, in that much. So, to speak plainly, we have you over a bit of a barrel at the moment, to use a coarse term. I'm not sure there's much you could offer that holds as much value as an unfettered wish."

Serori (37) has posed:
Serori's eyebrows twitch downward for a moment before coming up into a smooth high arch above her now narrowed eyes. 'Over the barrel,' huh? She can't deny the truth of that statement, but she doesn't have to like it. "Maybe choose your words with greater care. We're never at as much of a disadvantage as you are in the long run, simply because we're far more willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish our goals. And where I'm concerned, 'whatever it takes' has a very broad definition."

A bit of a bluff. Certain promises had been made, and Serori could now only go so far before she risked some bullshit upheaval within her own empire. The benefits of partnership were many, but tonight, the responsibility gets on her nerves. Jaw tensing, eyes a-glowering, she tears into a second piece of bread, growls out some order for a full rack of ribs, and only just stops herself from saying anything regrettable.

"You should try the fruit plate, Sarah." Grump, grump.

Sarah (316) has posed:
The Runebearer remains quiet for a long moment, studying the Field Marshal in turn. That study is kept as surreptitious as possible, though, and the instant he looks in her direction, her attention is suddenly elsewhere.

If he's familiar with magic at all, he might sense that this pale, frail-looking woman is house to an incredible power, and it has the feeling of water in all its varied forms. Overwhelmingly so; so much so that it seems laced with her very being, with no separation between the delicate mortal woman and the overpowering presence at the core of her very soul.

...She sure looks unassuming, though. In fact, she almost looks a little ill at ease, but that might just be airs put on to make herself seem even more unassuming than she is.

Who knows?

Her near-colourless eyes slide back to Psyber as he gets his pleasantries and drink ordering out of the way, and on to his serious negotiations. The crudeness of his phrasing draws a soft, almost inaudible snort from the woman; the only real sign of it the delicate flare of her nostrils. How unrefined.

She seems not to have much to say about the negotiations themselves, though, and so her pale eyes slide over to Serori. They're the kind of eyes someone might think blind, but there's no mistaking the acuteness of her vision, or the way she tracks people when they move or speak.

"That is hardly a disadvantage, Colonel." Sarah lifts her head, regarding Serori calmly. "Many of us are more willing to grasp victory than you think we are, and we do not consider it a particular disadvantage. That is somewhat of an assumption on your part, and in the interest of goodwill, I would prefer to correct your misconception earlier rather than later."

Again, that wintry smile. Did the temperature just drop a degree or two?

The expression fades, and so does the possibly-imagined, possibly-real dip in temperature as Sarah reaches for her discretely-delivered wine, sipping at it contentedly before setting it aside. Her head tilts at the fruit plate indicated, eyes flicking momentarily between it and Serori.

"Perhaps you should order yourself a glass of wine, Colonel. You seem tense." There's a brief pause in which she does help herself, daintily, to a small piece of fruit. Only when she's finished does she look to Serori again, with a less-wintry smile. And then she says the fateful words that have come close to obliterating her bank account.

"My treat, Colonel."

See? Sarah is totally the nice cop.

"The same to you, Field Marshal, if there is anything on the menu that piques your interest. I will see to the bill."

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
"Technically, there are other ways that the Dragon Ball could be obtained," Dracula idly remarks, shoulders lifting in a brief shrug. As frustrated as Serori may be getting, the Vampire Lord never seems to shift his own demeanor much from casual confidence. The level calm of someone used to working things out in his favor, even from a disadvantaged position. "It just so happens that this sort of negotiation happens to be the least...forceful, shall we say." The smirk of pointed fangs he flashes is devoid of any pleasant humor.

His fingers drum on the table briefly as he considers the situation, eyes faintly narrowed in thought. His burning gaze settles back on Psyber, then. "The Matoi girl. She did quite a fine job of angering us over that last Dragon Ball. More than a few Confederates are still eager - nearly chomping at the bit, might I say - to teach her a lesson for that disrespect. You all seem fond of her; if you give us the Dragon Ball, we can call off our hunt of her over this particular incident." Dracula's finger lifts, accentuating his next point. "This one, of course. She has a habit of making trouble for herself, it seems, so I cannot claim to offer any safety if she causes issues for us in the future. But I believe her life may be worth one Dragon Ball."

His attention shifts back to Sarah, then, as he casts another smirk her way. As casual as his demeanor may be, he's by no means friendly, and that smirk is little more than empty hospitality. "Thank you, Captain, but I have no interest in anything here tonight. I'm a rather finicky eater, shall we say."

Psyber (253) has posed:
"I apologize if the coarseness of the term upsets you," Psyber says, smiling evenly, "I'm certainly no Nathan, so my terms won't be as universally soft as his. It's in my nature to negotiate differently. I hope I won't cause so much offense with my faux pas that you leave the table." He doubts he will, but it would just play better for him if it happened.

Psyber had given Sarah the fair warning: He was going to be much different in round two of negotiations than round one. Because it was a power position that the Confederates came BACK. While only an apprentice to the masterful diplomacy of more skilled politicians, Psyber still wanted to come with a different stance than people would expect from the normally amicable man. He wanted to prove he wasn't a rube. He might be trying to prove he can compete with Nathan in his own right.

"Come now, Field Marshal," Psyber says in a faux-friendly tone, looking across the table at him, "If I were willing to barter for the life of Unaffiliated loudmouth who upset people on radio, I'd spend so much of my time bargaining for Mortimer Balman's life that I simply..." He flourishes his hand in the air, "Would fetter my day away at all times. Besides, Miss Kiryuin and her cavalcade seem to have their own aims for her, so even your offer wouldn't fully alleviate her hunt. I believe she can handle herself."

"What else have you got?" Psyber asks, taking out a pack of cigarettes as he contemplates smoking at the table.

Serori (37) has posed:
Assuming anyone else has the stomach for a meal, the waiter is prepared to take requests. Drinks are brought around as needed, too, and refills offered. It's the typical treatment one would expect to receive in this kind of place. No hair in the food, quick service, clean tablecloths, cloth napkins, an unbeatable view. It deserves to host more than an anxious saiyan and the terrifying Lord of Darkness.

Serori huffs out a sigh and turns her attention out to the ocean; she doesn't quite look at Psyber whenever she starts talking again. "...information, then. Other resources can be negotiated, too. Target zones can be handed over for a time, and hostilities ended on certain worlds. We have prisoners we could release, and spies in the Union we could name and surrender to judgment. We could pad out a huge list of arrangements, if that's what this requires, but I don't think you're interested in all these small potatoes. You want something more significant than one girl's life."

Serori's eyes snap back to Sarah, then to Psyber. "Namamura and Beli Klum's Earth both come to mind as regions we control but could return to you. Beli Klum's made some arrangements with Gohan regarding the handling of her world and its problems, but we could detail out how the world should be treated once those problems are ended."

She huffs through her nostrils. "There is also Reptilon to consider, and this Neo-Saiyan business, but again, I'm not really in position to negotiate any terms where those are concerned."

Bristling the more she talks, she finishes up with a smoldery, testy, "There are two wishes, you know. I only need one."

Sarah (316) has posed:
Although she flicks a brief glance toward Psyber when he clarifies himself, the Runebearer doesn't comment on it. In fact, the brief look is almost dismissive.

It's one thing to take over negotiations, but she would have expected a little more professionality than that sort of crude terminology. It is a business meeting, of sorts. Ah, well. If that's part of his tactics, that's part of his tactics. It is at odds with his otherwise slightly formal-sounding mode of speech, though.

With another sip of quietly watered-down wine, she listens as the negotiations take a different tack on both sides. Her pale eyes flick between the active parties, from speaker to speaker, although she doesn't seem particularly interested in interjecting.

If she's interested in the return of either of those territories, though, she doesn't show it. At least, not outwardly. Instead, she watches to see what it is Psyber intends to do.

Negotiating the way he intends to handle it isn't really her strong suit. Luc might have an appreciation for it, but she's content to sit back, watch Psyber work, and see how all of this turns out.

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
"Mortimer Balman, in contrast, has not been a rather helpful asset in Union matters here and there, I believe," Dracula replies to Psyber with his own even tone, not missing a beat. "Unaffiliated though she is, at least she has proven to be an asset to you; perhaps she might choose to offer her enlistment, if she hasn't already. Yes, Kiryuin has her own aims for her, and I can't ensure permanent safety, but I believe she would be much less at risk without the current focus she's brought on herself. But..." He lifts his hands, shrugging a little dismissively. He's made his point; if they don't want to take that, then he'll move on. "If you insist, then I suppose we have other options."

Then Serori speaks, and his gaze shifts to her out of the corner of his eye. What she offers causes him to raise his brow curiously, but he says nothing. His attention is shifted back to Psyber and Sarah, and while the latter doesn't seem interested in commenting, Dracula seems the most interested in hearing the half-angel's thoughts anyway. He seems to be the one leading this discussion, after all, and while the vampire may be slightly surprised by Serori's range of offers, he's not going to debate her choices on this matter.

Psyber (253) has posed:
Sarah isn't wrong that the coarse terminology doesn't fit the formal speech patterns and demeanors. It was more a slipup that he wants to pretend he did on purpose. He ahems faintly and then asks, "Well. What will you be wishing for, Colonel?" He'll deal with Dracula's statements in a moment.

"Understandably, the value of the objects will increase or decrease based on what you desire," He smiles a bit, "In that much, I'm actually pretty fair. If you say 'secret', you understand that the hypothetical could be anything. If you tell us what you desire, it assigns a measurable value, so to speak."

He looks over to Dracula, "That said, she makes an interesting offer. Not Beli's world, she lost that in a bet and will face her consequences as she has laid them out," A father he may be, but still one who believes in kids taking responsibility, "The wishes. It is one I am willing to consider. If you are willing to place a wish on the table for barter, that would change the entire terrain of this, wouldn't it?"

Psyber thinks, "I'd have stipulations, of course, to assure there wasn't any shenanigans. But it's a fair offer."

He looks to Sarah after this for confirmation, "Wouldn't you agree?"

Serori (37) has posed:
Serori's food is brought to the table. As will anyone else's meal, if anyone else asked for anything. The moment the ribs touch down, Serori gets to eating, making quick work of them. She gnaws those bones clean, letting her own nerves goad on her own eating habits. As she eats, she slants a look over to miss ICE QUEEN over there, and offers up a little smirk.

"You always manage to look a little ill whenever we eat together. I'm sorry, does this bother you?" And Serori bites through her rib bone as if it was nothing more substantial than a carrot. Sarah might put a frigid chill in the air, but when it comes to obvious showing-off-ness, Serori's just about shameless.

By the time Psyber's finished his response, Serori's eaten half her meal. The request to know her wish puts Serori back on edge. "I'm not sure my wish matters to you. It's personal. It's to the benefit of my empire, and to me, and not to anyone else, except in an indirect way. I can't bring back Planet Vegeta. I can't wish for more wishes, or for enhanced power, or for the Union to fall apart. Do you really need to know?"

She looks up to Dracula as if exchanging an angry glance, but there's more to it than that. She needs his guidance.

Sarah (316) has posed:
The Runebearer's dinner is brought out with the rest, which she had at some point stealth-ordered, possibly right after ordering her wine. It seems to be some kind of seafood entree, to the surprise of no one. She's not very big on meat, but she enjoys seafood, especially well-prepared in a nice five-star restaurant like this one.

Well, if she's going to be here anyway, she might as well enjoy the food, right? So she picks at that while she listens to the proceedings, occasionally casting a pale eye on the negotiators present.

And looks a little green as Serori bites cleanly through a rib bone.

As tempting as it is to insult Serori's table manners (because at that point it would be less of an insult and more of a simple observation), she manages to metaphorically bite her tongue and settle on something more diplomatic.

"No." Your table manners are just ghastly, that's all. There is a slight flicker of something in those pale eyes when Sarah glances to Serori's plate. "I assure you that I am perfectly fine, Colonel. Although I am quite certain that to some your table manners would be considered ghastly, I take no personal offence. After all, it would appear that you cannot help yourself, and that is no fault of yours." Jab, jab. Smile.

The temptation to snap-freeze the next piece Serori lifts to her mouth is overwhelming, but she's going to be good. Maybe she'll get back at her the next time they have a private dinner together. They're about due, soon, and it would be monstrously satisfying to do something so ridiculously juvenile.

Luc, she decides, is a terrible influence on her.

"As to that, of course. It is a foregone conclusion that any person negotiating for something of value will attempt to eliminate as much in the way of the existence of loopholes or the possibility of rules-lawyering, at least to the best of their ability."

"It is simply the nature and the way of politics," she adds, with a swift and almost apologetic smile flickering across her delicate features. Despite her speech, her voice is soft; so soft the others might need to strain to hear her properly. Hard to imagine this wisp of a woman houses such incredible power. She doesn't even bother to try and raise her voice; apparently it wouldn't do any good anyway. "Only a naive fool would negotiate for something of value without stipulations."

Her words are punctuated briefly by the sound of cutlery as she neatly, and almost frighteningly efficiently, cuts herself another dainty piece of fish.

"It is a foregone conclusion, then, that we will not agree to any offer of yours blindly," she adds, dismissively, spearing the fish-tidbit on the end of her fork. "That is, after all, why we are even present, and why this was not handled by another Union officer," she concludes, glancing up to sweep both Dracula and Serori with a neutral glance.

And then she pops the fish into her mouth, as though signalling the end of her own contribution. For the moment, anyway.

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
"If Serori is indeed willing to offer half of her final goal for this, then yes, I believe that would be a fair offer overall," Dracula concedes, his hand flourishing briefly to Psyber as if in acknowledgement. His arms fold over his chest as he looks over the half-angel, mulling over the offer in his own mind. "Perhaps it will be enough to hold off this petty quarrelling over every single ball, as well."

His glance shifts aside to Serori, meeting her leer for just a moment before looking toward Psyber again. Eyes narrowed, fingers stroking his beard, he spends a few more moments of silence to turn words over in his head before speaking again. "I don't believe it's necessary to tell you what the wish is. You have an assurance that it is a personal matter, primarily selfish; I feel as if you can easily base the merit of your wish on that."

His arms fold again as that dragon's stare flits between Sarah and Psyber. "A wish is a measurable value on its own. I believe that if we agree to ensure your presence at the time the Dragon Balls are assembled and the wishes are to be made, that should suffice. You will learn of the wish, and make one of your own at the time. Until then, consider what options you would desire, within the boundaries you have just been given. I'm certain that more than a few in the Union would be eager to have a wish of that nature available to them. If you need guidance, I understand that several others in the Union know of the stipulations of such wishes, if the Colonel doesn't desire to discuss the matter with you herself."

With that, Dracula offers a brief nod, as if he considers this to be the end of his part. "What do you say, then? Return the Dragon Ball to us, and you will be allowed one personal wish upon their collection."

Psyber (253) has posed:
"Personal, but secret. I don't need to know, but I'd like to know. It'd give some leeway in bargaining terms if I'm not having to negotiate against all unknown hypothetical wishes," Psyber admits to Serori, looking at her evenly. He hasn't ordered food. He probably won't order food, actually. He simply sips his Scotch and then sets the glass down again.

Sarah manages to concisely deliver a lot of the more nuanced points of Psyber's side of the argument. Something which he appreciates her doing for him. It allows him some time to consider his thoughts and to gather how he wants to phrase the final punch he's holding up his sleeve.

Psyber smiles slightly at Dracula, "I agree with Miss Sarah that stipulations are necessary. Owing as such, I will accept the offer with my stipulations in place."

Psyber pauses to pick up his glass again and sip, "I don't want a wish. I want the last wish." He says this innocuously, not sure if the weight of that particular wording will be picked up on. He hopes the Feds won't and that Sarah will, but he can't be sure either way, "When they are collected and together, I request the last wish they are capable of granting. I will go after Serori has made her wish."

He smiles a bit, "And because, while I trust you a good deal to uphold your deal, there are considerations to be made. You admitted you would go to any length in this very conversation." He shuts his eyes, "Before the Dragon Ball is given over, I would like the Deal to be formalized. Preferably with the agreement being magically sealed by someone like the Pact Mage, or someone with similar powers."

Serori (37) has posed:
The saiyan's sharp features pull off a subtle but stormy scowl which manages to enhance their savage, vulpine quality. She's pretty enough even by human standards, but an expression like that would look ugly on anybody. Serori holds up a hand to forestall any talks about Pacts and Deals. "My own stipulations, then. My wish remains secret until the time of asking, and you can't then wish to undo my wish, or wish for anything which interferes with or alters the parameters of my wish. I won't have you wishing for anything which is some slimy, underhanded way of altering my wish, either. I want my wish, my way, and nothing you wish for can change that."

Serori looks up at Dracula, then to Sarah, then away, then to Psyber, then away again. The way she fidgets in her seat makes her unease obvious. The whippy way her tail twitches is also unpleasant. "...I don't like magic," she finally states, voicing her squirming thoughts. "I don't like it, and I don't like the idea of a Pact Mage. What happens if the agreement's broken?"

Sarah (316) has posed:
For the most part, Sarah lets Heaven or Hell's proprietor and the Lord of Darkness duke it out amongst themselves. She'll sit here and she'll enjoy her fish, although she does listen to the conversation as it plays itself out, at least until Serori speaks her piece.

"I have no intentions of stifling your wish, Colonel. Yet at the same time we do require some means of assurance. We must have a binding agreement that you will not use that wish to wreak destruction on our own, put civilians in harm's way, or compromise unaligned warpgates. That is our responsibility as Union officers." She raises her head, fixing Serori with a gaze that is, surprisingly, not mild; it is piercing, sharp as a jagged shard of ice. She is deadly earnest when it comes to the safety of civilians. "Furthermore, to use your wish in such a manner would be a breach of goodwill."

"I will accept that you prefer not to use magic to seal such an agreement. With that in mind, if you can produce a means of sufficient gravity to bind you to these conditions, I will be content; if not, I am willing to treat with the Pact-Mage over this matter, for I trust his counsel inasmuch as he can be trusted to know if an agreement is, indeed, legitimate and sealed." She cocks her head, very slightly, and eyes Serori. "In the event that his services are needed, surely a strong warrior like yourself would not mind the momentary discomfort of subjecting themselves to such a bond."

"One need not worry of the consequences if they have no intention of breaking such agreements," Sarah murmurs. "But the exact consequences would be specified at the drawing of the contract, I would imagine. I have no doubt that the Wizard would be able to supply you with further detail. Such things are, after all, his specialty."

She bobs her head, setting her jewelled earrings to clinking softly; purposefully drawing attention to them. "As for the initial drawing of the contract and sealing of the Deal, it is no more troublesome than the prick of piercing one's ear. Surely, of little concern to a capable warrior such as yourself."

She shrugs one shoulder, delicately. "But, as I said, if you can produce another means, I will be satisfied with that, provided it is satisfactory to Colonel Psyber. But I am afraid I simply cannot trust you to smile, nod, and assure us that you have the best of intentions with no guarantee of it. While I trust you to be honourable in certain circumstances, within certain constraints, Colonel, you are nonetheless a member of the Confederacy," she adds, with a faint and almost apologetic, almost rueful smile; seemingly quite genuine, "and I am a member of the Union, and we have our parts to play."

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
Dracula falls silent for the moment; his part in this has been temporarily settled. Now it's mostly Serori's decision on how to handle this, unless she looks to him for advice again. The matter of the official Deal, or something similarly binding; it's her decision, and her pact to make. On his end, he has no concern over this being an issue, and Psyber's request on the time of the wish doesn't go unnoticed, but he'd considered that to be the case already. The Union is wary, rightfully so: he himself would request to hear the enemy's wish before making his own, if he were in this situation.

He does, however, glance aside to Serori to offer a brief, relaxed comment. Even now, his tone hasn't shown any sign of strain or stress. Almost the polar opposite of her own. "These matters are rather particular. The terms are to be entirely agreed upon at the moment of the pact, and to be upheld from that point forward. Whatever consequences arise at the time the pact is broken are to be agreed upon at the point the pact is made, as well."

Psyber (253) has posed:
Psyber hmms to Serori and then says, "That removes the inherent power of a second wish. For all I know, despite your insistence you cannot, your wish could be to revive all deceased Saiyans under Vegeta's leadership. Then I've willingly handed you an ever-power-escalating army which I can do nothing to mitigate."

Psyber narrows his eyes, "Furthermore, describing my ability to put a dangerous wish into hypothetical check as slimy and underhanded does you a disservice," The half-angel notes seriously, "I allowed a wish to be misused ONCE in my career and it led to a man that nearly brought the Multiverse to heel. I do not intend to be so foolish again."

Psyber looks to Dracula as he starts to stand up from the table, starting to reach for his bag, "If she agrees to the pact, I will reconsider. You two are giving me very different opinions on your stances and beliefs in relation to both the pact and to the relation of wishes."

He keeps a calm look, "You need all the Dragon Balls, whereas I only need one." Sarah has already echoed out the more complex, nuanced, and very blunt facts of the arrangements. He doesn't need to hammer those out more than has already been stated. She stated it better than he ever could, and her statements in support of Loros despite her dislike of him is more than enough for him to stay silent.

"I am a reasonable man, though. If you need seventy-two hours to talk between yourselves and come to your final conclusion on the offer, I will allow that much."

Psyber is playing the strongest card someone can in this situation: He's preparing to simply walk away from the table.

Serori (37) has posed:
Serori snorts, and glares right back at the Ice Queen. "My wish is personal. It will become part of myself, and part of my strength. To expect that my wish shouldn't empower me as a warrior or as a Confederate is ridiculous. Why wish for warpgates when I can conquer them? Why put civilians in harm's way when I can make them part of the Confederacy? What good is any wish if I can't then carry out my duty as a warrior, and as a queen among warriors? Tch. I might not be wishing for a greater power in some direct, ham-fisted sense, but my wish is also not the kind of thing that's going to make me give up my lifestyle. You can also imagine it's not the kind of wish that's going to be minor, or a waste of my time." Serori leans back in her seat a little to turn her stare on the sky. She keeps her gaze there while Sarah finishes out, and while Dracula and Psyber share their piece.

Loros. A man she'd like to trust, but someone who could be devious where Deals are concerned, if his reputation's right. She should feel comforted knowing a friend would become responsible forth any magical bindings, yet the whole concept makes her nervous, not the least because he'd left the Confederacy. She'd rarely given out a binding promise, too. To have it magically enforced...

"Oh, please. If you can say you've got us over a barrel, then I can say something myself that's just as uncouth – and accurate. You've got a clever mind, and I won't have you abusing your wish to undermine my own. See? By complaining you've lost an advantage, you've revealed your play. No, this isn't going to work out that way." Serori chomps apart her final rib bone, stripping it of its seasoned meat in seconds. Around a mouthful – bare bone stabbing in Psyber's direction, she adds: "Do you have rocks for ears? I'm wishing for something selfish. I'm not going to give Vegeta something he can earn on his own. If he wants to wish for a bigger army, he can do it himself."

The bone's dropped to her plate. Serori works on cleaning off her fingers. "I need to think about this supposed bargain. As to my opinion differing from the Field Marshal's, well, I'm right to be the more skeptical one, aren't I? I'm the one being asked to get a new ear piercing. Besides, he has a comfort with magic that I don't."

The last of her immediate bluster is sighed out as she balls up and tosses aside her napkin. Serori's face settles on a guarded and neutral expression that's still as taut as it can be. All her muscles look tense, actually. One Dragon Ball couldn't mean this much, could it? "I'll let you know my answer in three days, as you ask. Until then, I'll expect you to keep the terms of your agreement unaltered. If we need to meet again...you can contact me, or I'll contact you. Otherwise – three days."

At that, she gets up from the table, and starts to prowl toward the patio's railing. "Thanks for your time," she snarls in passing, not sounding very polite at all. So much for manners! At least she'd tried to share her food. "Tea at the usual place in two weeks, if you don't mind, Captain. Assuming I'm in one piece. Thanks for footing the bill tonight."

It's not even that grotesque!

After her farewells, Serori lapses into unhappy silence, her eyes on the ocean but her mind elsewhere.

Sarah (316) has posed:
It seems Sarah is content to remain silent as the others hash details out. She's spoken her piece for now, and she's going to enjoy her nice fish dinner while she has the opportunity to, because there's no telling when or if somebody as volatile as Serori is going to flip the table and ruin her nice dinner (and also her nice dress). Best to get while the gettin's good!

It's about when she's nearly finished that she looks up, eyeing the others, particularly Serori, while Serori comments on the whole matter.

Somewhat warily, she edges her chair back about half an inch; enough so that it's not obvious she plans on standing up, but enough that she can move quickly if she has to.

"No, I had a feeling it wouldn't be something so simple as that." Sarah cants her head slightly to one side, jewelled earrings clinking as she regards Serori. Her mien is neutral in spite of the fire and rancor being levelled in her general direction. It rolls off her like so much water; she's the spitting image of calm and patience, and that's probably why she was chosen to come along. "You aren't so foolish as to waste your wish in such a manner. You're too cunning for that, from what I've observed over the years."

No smiles, this time, though her eyes flick toward Psyber when Serori turns her vitriol on him in turn. She sighs as the Saiyan progresses into more and more rudeness. Even so, the building is still standing, and that's a start. It's definitely more than she had been expecting.

"You're welcome, Colonel." The sarcastic thanks is returned with evident earnestness. Sarah even dips her head graciously as she stands up, taking her greatstaff in hand once more. "Tea in two weeks," she confirms. To thanks over the bill, she merely shrugs, turning and keying something into the radio earpiece she wears; direct payment, perhaps, for the meal.

Half a glance is given to Psyber by way of warning, as well as just enough time for him to get in any parting comments he might like, before she whisks both of them back to Njorun Station with her teleportation – a murmured sentence in the hair-raising dead language of the Sindar, a wash of blue-white light, and the lingering sensation of mist; and both Union members are gone as though they had never been.

Dracula Vlad Tepes (83) has posed:
Dracula would respond to Psyber and Sarah, but...well, Serori handles that quickly enough with her firm tone. She's quick, hard, and succinct; there isn't much for him to open up on himself, and so he stays silent, arms folded as he sits in his seat. His gaze veers between his three current companions, until Serori's finished and farewells are being said.

Finally, he offers a brief nod of acknowledgement to Sarah and Psyber. "As she says, you will have our answer in three day's time. I would suggest reaching out to me before the Colonel if you need to speak before that time: she has several matters that require her attention, and should something come up that does not require her direct input, I will be willing to handle it. Until then..."

The vampire rises, straightening out his clothes with a brief sweep of his hands before folding his arms behind his back. A courteous smile is offered to Sarah and Psyber before he speaks again, bowing slightly at the waist. His tone is still level, still polite; his noble, diplomatic visage still hasn't faltered. "Colonel, Captain. Thank you for coming to speak with us on these matters. Let's hope that we can settle on a resolution with minimal strain on both our ends."

He stays standing until the Union members have left, at which point he takes his seat again with a brief swish of his cape. Arms crossed, he lingers there in silence, a quiet presence in the saiyan's company in case she finds herself needing guidance or a listening ear again.

Psyber (253) has posed:
Psyber looks to Serori as she speaks to him, "I never pretended it wasn't my play. Taking the second wish would allow me to neutralize your wish if it was something Multiversally harmful." Despite her 'accusations' of him trying to fool them, he doesn't say too much besides, "If you had thought to do the same to me, you would not be half so offended."

"But if we wish to make accusations, the fact you are entertaining the idea while still so vocally offended shows me how much the object means to you. It adds an intrinsic value to the object that will almost certainly come up if the terms of wish allotment were subject to further negotiation," He smiles gently. He won't address the insults, rather simply pick at what they're there to cover up, "'Something selfish' is nebulous and ill-defined. I could wish for many altruistic things and it would be selfish. I could wish for terrible things and make it selfless. The simple statement of selfishness tells me very little."

He reaches down, taking the last of his scotch and tipping it backwards to drink it down, "Your opinion disagreeing with the Field Marshal is natural, but I will give you some free advice. Whether buying a used sedan or a wish-granting super artifact, when you bring a secondary to a negotiation, make it someone you won't immediately present a divided front with."

Sarah, at this line, gets a happy and bright smile from Psyber. A rare thing these days. Then he looks back to the other two, "Thank you for your time, Field Marshal. Colonel."

And as Psyber is getting teleported away by Sarah's magic, he has one final line:

"I look forward to your very likely agreement."