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Timekeeper	There's only a short while longer before getting to the Walden, but Vertin diverts off of the dirt road before it's in view. Ever since the fuss with the gold-hungry carbuncles, there hasn't been much impediment to travel, and the ghostly eyes of the burnt forest watch their passing with less depressive weight after whatever Riku did. Taking shelter out of sight of the cars on the road and the Walden, among the soot-grey trees, Vertin habitually checks the numbers on their wrist as if they might tell them anything besides what they already know.     "The Walden's just up ahead. It doesn't seem as though they've noticed us yet, but we won't risk it if possible. I believe it's in our best interests to split into two groups."     She takes a side-step away from Sonetto, pausing for just a moment before elaborating on the plan. Sonetto confusedly looks down at the gap between them, and then firmly matches Vertin's side-step to close the distance and stick right beside them. In response, Vertin lightly touches her shoulder, and separates again.     "A number of us have already been seen in the Walden on our prior mission, so it's best not to try our luck being seen again. During that mission, we discovered a hidden underground labyrinth stretching north from the speakeasy towards the city-- I propose that we split and approach from both angles. With the false invitations we have remaining, half of us will mingle with the crowd to watch for the Manus Vindictae activity at the front of the house, keeping an eye out for Forget Me Not or any unusual rituals. Sonetto, Regulus, I'll be entrusting that to you." "Got it, Timekeeper."     Vertin gestures to separate Lilian, Tamamo, Riku, Sotheby, and Moissan from the others. "Meanwhile, Riku will dig a passageway as Ultraman Geed into the labyrinth for us to infiltrate from the back. It's possible that there would be traces of a ritual hidden in the labyrinth, and tunneling into it a short ways from the Walden provides us another means of egress once we've learned what we can."     Sotheby in her big hat tottering over at Vertin's indication to organize into investigation teams really removes any doubt that she means to make use of her in the upcoming hours. Her thought process extends as far as considering that Sotheby being a child might draw attention if she was seen in the speakeasy, and tactically assigns her accordingly. "Sotheby, do you have the ability to make explosive mixtures with what you have on hand? There might be walls down there we're forced to break our way through."     She shifts her grip on her suitcase, leaving the other group with parting words to focus them on the mission at hand. "It's absolutely critical that we find out tonight, before the Storm, if the Manus Vindictae have the ability to predict and accelerate its arrival. Note whether they seem prepared and expectant for it, and if there's any clue as to their plans for the rest of this era. I don't believe they'll be content with waiting passively for the end, if they did indeed summon it."
Timekeeper	Then, the split. After quickly conferring with Sonetto's compass and her memory of how the array of tunnels seemed to stretch away from the Walden's back corners, Vertin's group goes deeper into the untamed woods rather than towards the building. Vertin's arcane senses aren't helpful here-- there's no sign on the surface of any magical disturbance of dirt or stone that would've helped carve out such a labyrinth, but whether through collaboration or triangulation, they eventually land on a small clearing that seems promising.     "Alright, Riku, if you would. If it's possible, please avoid raising your head above the treeline."     Meanwhile, Sonetto shuffles through the small stack of blue-black invitation papers that Ms. Moissan passed to her. The Walden is flooded with cars all around it at this time of night, with people pouring in but few coming out for any reason besides a quick breath of fresh air. With the smaller group they have now, Sonetto assesses that it will likely be easy for them to hide among the crowd, and she's captivated by the sheer number of people present, existing mostly as a tide of voices and silhouettes against the windows.     "So many... there must be hundreds inside. But it does not seem as though the Storm Syndrome is notable here, yet. Behaviors are within acceptable variations for psychological stability, albeit intoxicated."     She holds out the invitations, for each other person to take one from her. "This is a Manus Vindictae safehouse, so be on your guard for heavy enemy presence within. If the humans are wearing black masks... they may be used against us."
Timekeeper	And, of course, inside, there *is* heavy enemy presence. White and Holly may have located Marian's position within the labyrinth, but being absent from Forget Me Not's party for too long would arouse suspicion, so it's back to the 'enemy presence' balcony looking over the Walden's bright raucous ocean. The velvety carpeting dims the sound of the footsteps of the VIPs and absorbs the echo of their conversation, designed to feel like fine dining over a colosseum, with the acoustics of the musicians' alcove on the floor below funneling their sound to the balcony.     But the energy up here is growing too. The early hours of the Storm are barely any different from the chaos that human civilization already carries, and none of the Concord have anything so precise as the Timekeeper's watch, but there's an undeniable sense of *something* building now. At some point, Schneider was sent away, either to prepare for her round on stage-- currently, occupied by a set of dancers with black ribbons-- or just to not kill the vibe of the Manus higher-ups.     Who, also, gravitate towards commingling with the Concord, as seemingly being allies. A cubist painting of a woman with a shifting number of eyes and mouths is carried by a silent duo of draconic-masked Manus followers in gowns, brought over to the table to chat with Flamel and Holly's unique senses of aesthetics. She has gushing praise for Holly's 'hat' of gold blood, and can't quite put her finger on what she likes about Flamel-- she doesn't recognize him, but he would recognize her from the Donner cabin. The childish doll-like girl stares at White from several tables away, glaring for some unspoken reason over top of a glass of wine.     Your host comes by too, flush with excitement and activity from disappearing... somewhere? Forget Me Not plucks an ornate little hourglass from his breast pocket and places it on the rail of the balcony, where only a few grains of sand remain in the top half.     To the Concord, expectantly breathless for having not seen them in a bit, "How it torments me to play such a poor host to you, but I assure you the grand show is soon to begin. Have you found my Walden wanting for anything, my friends?"
Flamel Parsons	Flamel directly cuts off the memories of what he experienced from the part of him that speaks up. The Records Department of the Parsons Institute has a hard-filter in place in the information it'll send over to the Communications Department, set to expire on certain triggers and timers, to *ensure* he doesn't give away anything that could put Schneider in jeopardy. Which is why it's almost frustrating that the thing he says in reply to Forget-Me-Not winds up being, "Hardly a poor host at all! I think I've found just about everything I could want here." He raises a glass and inclines his head affably.     The area here has a thick telepathic haze still. Those who enter, who have studied him or worked much with the Psychonauts (such as during the Psychogate incident), will know just how much his mental senses are clouded by the crowd and how much he depends on his telepathy over his actual vision and hearing. Which means it wouldn't take much effort to know precisely his 'cone of vision', so to speak. Cautious visitors from another faction can know where to duck, what crowds to slip into, and what Ironic Process Theory pink elephants should be left un-thought-about, to evade the spy's dangerous, sweeping view.     After all, Flamel, knowing with certainty that he's working *with* rather than *against* the Manus, will instantly spotlight-alert potential intruders the minute he detects one up there, with that passive scan running as he drinks and brightly chats with the Donner pass murderer...
Holly Asturias	"Maybe Mister Flamel can... Cover your memory, for a bit."     "No, I'll be quite alright. I may not be used to this exact kind of... situation, but I can steel myself the same as everyone else." comes Holly's answer to White, as they inconspicuously return to the upstairs party after ensuring poor Marian's wellbeing - even if they can't, explicitly, just up and purge the drugs from her system just now. It pains Holly to leave a patient behind, but, she's been assured it's temporary. A cubist painting of a woman.     "Truly, that is unusual here too? My, the response out in the Multiverse has been... mixed, when I explain that among my people it is so common to decorate oneself like this." Holly casually questions (and explains), keeping her cool by talking about something that she's all-too-happy to: fashion! Specifically, hers.     "Hm, well... most Revenants decorate their skin, whether at skin-level, like tattoos, or with decorations that are barely past it-- you could imagine, say, a very tight crown, perhaps little horns, or earrings that cover the whole ears, for those. For the skin, well, I'm sure your imagination can fill in the blanks! Tattoos of gold, themed after scars or symbols one enjoys, or just pleasant lines along the limbs."     She sips from a cup of red-tinted alcohol, which is probably not blood, unless the Manus were so generous as to prepare that just for her.     "Though I must confess I do not much enjoy tarnishing my skin with such. You could say I've had a bad experience or three growing up regarding markings on the skin, and so I favor this instead, styled after my mother's!" The metallic clink as she gently pokes her headdress with one of her long nails, before smiling. "Have you found my Walden wanting for anything, my friends?"     "Not at all! It's been quite enjoyable so far! Though I *must* admit in the interest of transparency that this is the *third* party I have ever been to, and one of those was in my own abode. I'd struggle to know what a proper party should look like just yet." A sip, to finish her glass, and to look about and make sure that White, Schneider and Flamel are still accounted for. Flamel's easy, being so close to her, but Schneider's off in her own corner, for now, and that worries her a bit.
Regulus	Along the trip to the Walden, Regulus had a murmured conversation with Sonetto where she seemed pretty nervous about something and then after it was over, she seemed to be back in high spirits--the highest spirits, really, since the countdown to the Storm began. Her anxieties about being so close to another Storm again aren't really dispelled, she's clearly as high-strung as a guitar, but she's smiling more and has an extra pep in her step. It seems that she is the sort of person who, at least, has the ability to grin in the face of oblivion. She, surprisingly perhaps, frowns sympathetically when there's that moment of who gets to stand next to who how closely. ''Got it, Timekeeper.'' "You can count on us!" Regulus says in the tone of aye aye captain. "What do you want us to do if we run into him? Or the other ones?" But honestly outside of that she's eager to not ask too many questions. The Storm isn't a soft deadline after all and even if Regulus has been through one before, it's still very new and spooky to her--and knowledge OF it hasn't made it that much easier than when it just seemed like the world was going crazy. ''Acceptable variations for psychological stability, albeit intoxicated.'' "Sonetto, from what I remembered it felt like everybody was losing their mind, but from what the Foundation knows--is it always like that? Or do some people go off their rocker faster than others?" ''If the humans are wearing black masks... they may be used against us.'' Regulus grimaces. "...Yeah, I remember that." And she full body shudders. She collects an invitation from Sonetto and adds, "Alright then. Let's not get caught, been in enough jail cells for one lifetime." Don't worry, though, she'll end up in more!
Riku Asakura	Riku is rather happy that the forest is less spooky and calmer, despite the end of the world coming within twenty-four hours.  Still, it makes going off the traveled path easier, especially when Vertin draws them off of it to assign things into two teams.  Riku is with Timekeeper, as she asks him to do something specific.   'Meanwhile, Riku will dig a passageway as Ultraman Geed into the labyrinth for us to infiltrate from the back.' Riku nods. He can do that.  "Shouldn't be a problem, I'll try not to get any dirt on anyone!" he says, brightly.  He walks with the other group, towards the back of the Walden.  It's probably for the best he's with this group, as he's recognizable by most of the elites inside.   'Alright, Riku, if you would. If it's possible, please avoid raising your head above the treeline.' Riku nods again.  He looks up at the height of the trees and takes out a capsule.  "You go!" he states, activating it.  The image of a giant of light appears next to him.  He slides the capsule into a holder and repeats the process for the next capsule.  "I go!" This time, a giant of darkness forms, with eyes similar to Geed's and dangerous claws.   "Here we go!" he states as he scans both capsules with the Fusion Riser.  "Time to get ready!" he states, holding the Fusion Riser up and then back down over his chest.  "GEEEEEEED!" he states, before blue flame rolls out from his body.   FUSION RISE! ULTRAMAN ULTRAMAN BELIAL ULTRAMAN GEED PRIMITIVE The image of Riku changes into Ultraman Geed.  He grows, but is careful not to grow taller than the tree line.  Carefully, he bends over, and where Vertin indicates the dig, he starts parting the earth with his giant hands, trying to create a hole to the labyrinth underneath.  To him, it might as well be sand being pulled away to make a hole at the beach.
Schneider Greco	Schneider waits for a little while at the balcony table with Flamel. There's no sense hiding that she's been chatting with her Concord friends- that's only natural- but there is no seat set aside for her at the table, humble servant that she is. When White and Holly return from their clandestine mission, she rises to surrender Holly's seat, clutching the coin in her palm.      As she's called away to the stage, she looks back and flashes a parting tense-grateful smile to them.      Before she's even turned back around to follow her 'allies' backstage, it vanishes under her usual casual-smoky demeanor.      *Thank you, my-lords.*      *I shall try to keep to this umbrella, as long as I can.*      She's gone before Forget-Me-Not emerges. The scent of oranges lingers in the Schneider-shaped social void.
Lilian Rook	'The Walden's just up ahead.'     Though seldom one to do anything more than roll her eyes at other people's bad habits, something about the situation has Lilian tense enough to gasp at Vertin's recently developed tic and say, "Timekeeper, please stop checking that thing. You're going to give me an anxiety attack." Whatever it is that's got her like this, it certainly wasn't the carbuncles that make Lilian rub her face, declare "Unless I've suddenly blacked out on my feet without realizing it, there are--" along with the exact hour-minute-second value on the clock, timed to be correct at the end of her sentence rather than the beginning. "I think you'll notice if the Storm suddenly speeds up."     'I believe it's in our best interests to split into two groups.'     'A number of us have already been seen in the Walden on our prior mission, so it's best not to try our luck being seen again.'     Lilian's tacit agreement is never followed by disappointment like that. At least, not poorly hidden like this. She approves well enough of Vertin's operational assumptions to not have any further comment, but clicks her tongue about it anyways.     'Got it, Timekeeper.'     "And keep Regulus in check would you?" says Lilian. "All banter aside, we can't afford a repeat of her LSCC 'reconnaissance' episode." Then she glances to Regulus and shoots off a two-thirds-hearted "Sorry."     'Meanwhile, Riku will dig a passageway as Ultraman Geed into the labyrinth for us to infiltrate from the back.'     "Will you be able to manage that with the time you have remaining?" Lilian says to Riku. She looks up and down for some sort of convenient digital clock greeble on a rider belt somewhere, out of futile habit. "I don't know how quick that meter of yours recharges. If it comes to a fight, we should really hope for you to use that form for less than a minute anyways; there are civilians everywhere and we don't know what arcanum the Manus Vindictae elites inside have access to."     'Sotheby, do you have the ability to make explosive mixtures with what you have on hand?'     Lilian double takes back at Vertin, eyes wide, and gets through "Are you certain that's wise?" before intentionally stifling in the incredulity in her tone, realizing a little late this is the sort of thing that's good for arcanist-related morale right now. She quickly pivots to her second concern. "We don't exactly have any idea which of those are load-bearing." she says, shortly before realizing this will encourage people to depend on her 'teleportation' instead. "Well-- better to risk that then getting lost. Time isn't something we can get more of."     . . . . . . . .     Lilian is entirely unreserved in offering her 'divination' support in locating the back door, though she errs on calling it 'precognition' as usual for any field scenario. More so because of Matilda setting the bar for what divination means, and Lilian both needs little more than half a minute to herself every so often and knows little more than the sequence of actions and directions that results in getting there quickly; clear, straightforward, and not at all difficult, whilst getting inside the Walden is what she wants very badly.     Once she's in position with the others and stuck waiting for Riku to dig, Lilian removes the sword from her waist with some reluctance, whispers something under her breath, and banishes it to the realm of wearable accessory glamer that she must never be told is terribly magical girl-like. Despite not enjoying doing so, she hooks the pendant back around her neck again, leaving it against her collarbone rather than under her shirt.
Tamamo	Tamamo is present today, for reference, in a dress that looks a bit closer to Victorian in inspiration -- getting the time period just right in these historical outings takes such work! -- together with a particularly large, beribboned hat. This reference is not likely to change much about sneaking in underground, since she's as noticeable in one outfit as another. Good thing they're going underground, then.     "I suppose now is not the right time to push our luck, Timekeeper Vertin. I would just as well not attempt small talk, this time, with the... is 'goons' the correct term?" Does that mean something else? English, too, is difficult. That aside, she absolutely can give their luck a push, and Tamamo does so by passing out little bookmark-like paper charms, for tucking in to places. Though they're separating -- or rather, because they're separating -- she tucks one into Sonetto's... hm.     "Here, place this into your belt, would you? Exposing it to air makes the circulation easier." Either of Sonetto's belts will do. Why her only visible belts on her right thigh is something Tamamo will go up and quietly chatter to Lilian about, as is their wont.     "Young miss Sotheby, since the Timekeeper asked, are there any items you might require? I carry a good few 'just in case' ritual ingredients in my handbag." Lilian may be the one more in tune with alchemy, while Tamamo carries more things that could be confused for cooking supplies, but there's considerable overlap.
White	You know, it used to feel better when all there was to do was to wait and see what happens. Maybe it's just that she has to participate in the celebrations to some extent to keep up appearances- she does partake of the food and drink in her mousish way here and there, while listening to conversations and making small additions mostly by gestures, shakes of her head and the like. It's natural for her to be quiet, and continuing to do so suits her fine, but... Especially after Schneider leaves their company, it's hard not to fret.      In truth, she still doesn't even have a reason to particularly dislike most of the Manus's representatives. That helps when they start mingling, making it easy to make small greetings, ask rare questions about their other work, interests, and other opportunistic topics when enough of a lull opens for her to organize her thoughts into words. The painting-woman is met with the same halfway-blank kind of expression that most other people are; she's had enough time to absorb the idea of people like Mister APPLe existing in this world that she isn't thrown off much as long as she can hear them speak and see their expressions. "What do you... Occupy yourself with... Most days?"      Being glared at by a younger-looking girl is... Not new to her.      While keeping her eyes shut is a sort of affectation of politeness and self-disarmament even towards people who know nothing about her eyes, White does deliberately let one eye open to make contact with the disgruntled dollish girl's glare. It's simultaneously an effortfully indifferent 'I see you' kind of response, and... An excuse to examine her for any particular analytical powers of her own! Maybe she can't make 'staring at every individual higher-up' look natural enough for comfort, but this kind of private moment is easy enough to pass off as an invitation to speak up. And it'd be... Bad, if one of them was suspicious of her for an easily substantiated reason already.      When Forget Me Not eventually returns to the balcony, White... Can't really fake a natural smile, but she can at least wave and nod his way, to welcome him back. She takes a moment to turn over his question like she's quite seriously trying to find something to be discontent with about the accomodations, before shaking her head and quietly answering, "The food is good. I'm sure... You've been busy. Don't worry about it." She may not know what's coming outside of what Schneider's learned enough to warn them about, just the vague idea that there will be a rush of action 'soon'. She's been expecting the Foundation to make moves on the Walden for a while now, but it's still going to come as somewhat of a surprise by the time she actually spots anyone she knows or hears word of an intrusion... She's talked to various people about her intentions, but the finer details never really were set in stone. She'll just have to do her best... And hope everyone else understands, when the time comes.
James Bond	I believe it's in our best interests to split into two groups.     "I'm listening." He isn't thrilled about the prospect of being split up in unfriendly territory, but it's far from the least support he's ever had, as a former infiltrator. half of us will mingle with the crowd to watch for the Manus Vindictae activity at the front of the house, keeping an eye out for Forget Me Not or any unusual rituals...     Bond nods. That much is doable and not overly unlikely to work; his exposure to Manus agents has been minimal compared to some of the others, and blending into a crowd is within his wheelhouse for certain. "Alright. I'll be in contact if I see anything you'll want to know about."     He takes an invitation from Sonetto, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He clicks a button on his watch. The distant growl of an engine approaches. "If we've invitations, but don't look as though we were invited," he explains, "We may as well not have them at all." A silver Rolls Royce crawls steadily down the path to meet Bond and the others meant to be joining him in the infiltration. Before he steps into the driver's seat, however, he takes a moment to run a decidedly anachronistic microfiber cloth of some sort over his shoes and the three-piece suit he wears, effectively erasing any trace of the forest upon either. "Get in if you're riding with me. We don't have time to waste."     The tires of the car shouldn't do as well as they do, on this sort of terrain, and the engine sounds decidedly unlike the '50HP' stamped subtly on the chassis by way of branding. "Smile," he says, to anyone riding with him, "Like this is someplace you want to be." His is convincing--the warmth even reaches his eyes, if you don't know him well enough to think otherwise.      His invitation is ready and shown with ease to whoever waits to receive it.
Odette Raskins	"Two groups, two angles." Odette listens closely to Vertin's plan as it's laid out, twisting this way and that to make sure she's good and limber for whatever's decided. As she hears more about the plan, her path becomes clearer, and she almost seems relieved when Vertin gestures at the labyrinth group. "Then I'll go with Miss Sonetto and Regulus. I'm pretty good at blending in with regular people." She asserts with an almost confident puff from her chest, but only for a moment before closing her eyes. "Just need to get into the right head for this... Money. Money. I have money." She scrunches her face up a bit, trying not to let that lie get to her. It's not like she didn't just spend most of her savings on licensing and tuition or anything. As long as she doesn't think too hard about that, she should be okay! She reopens her eyes, then pumps her fists lightly to the labyrinth crew. "You've got this, everyone. W-we'll all get through this in one piece, and then we can worry about cleaning up any injuries after. Good luck." With that attempt at encouragement done, it's time to split off! Going along with the invitation team, Odette continues mulling over Sonetto's plan on the way in. "Prediction tools, abilities, some kind of forecasting stuff.... Divination, maybe?" Odette's pretty sure she's heard that word plenty of times before. "If they're not worried about the Storm at all, that could be a good sign." A beat, then she adds. "Er. For them. More focus on drinking and carousing, less on us... And I've seen enough drunk people at home and at work to get us around anyone starting to party too much. We just play it cool, get that info, and then..." Another beat. "Should we be waiting inside once we find that out, or should we get out as soon as we can? The others might still be in the middle of their part if we bail early, but us being inside might make it harder for them if they have to go loud." Trying not to think too hard about what else could go wrong, Odette instead focuses her thoughts on how else to feel like a rich person. The invitation that Sonetto hands her helps a lot more than she expected, and and she just stares at it for a few moments to really feel how inner-circle-y it feels in her hand. "Rich people, rich people... They might already be off from that alone." Odette comments to Regulus, looking at her expectantly like she's just said something particularly... Humorous? Was that an attempt at a quip? She's totally expecting a chuckle or something. "Between that, the drinking, and the symptoms, we might have to stay on our toes just to not get caught up in whatever goes on. Although..." Another pause, then a quick shake of her head. "No, we'll be okay. No jail cells. No getting caught. We've got this. Everyone's counting on us!"
Tamiel Luxis	Tamiel had talked up her ability to infiltrate weeks ago back at the Sotheby estate, but now that the hour had come--a little more close at hand and high stakes than she'd hoped for--she found herself cowed by the obstacle. She watches the confused movement between Sonetto and Vertin. "...Okay." She says, trusting their decisions to split the party--and ability to hide in plain sight. "We won't let you down."     She's about to take to the shadows on her approach, when a car rolls up at Bond's need, while Tamiel openly gawks at it. "Oh!" The stare falls on Bond, and she momentarily forgets he's not from here, "Do you have magic over machines, or...?"     The angel piles into the back, her wings squirming outside for a moment before she can properly yank them inside through the door. She promptly melts into the floor, latching to Regulus' shadow like a remora. Tamiel's voice comes back out from somewhere below, "I'll stick like this." Her voice says, from somewhere below. "Even if some arcanists have wings and halos, it'd really make me stick out more..." A pause. "Who else could I stick to, if Regulus needs to go invisible?"     Tamiel quiets, as they approach the Walden. Just another shadow among many.
Ein	Ms. Moissan and Sotheby, attached now to Team Timekeeper by proximity, tightened up after the Carbuncle outing, Sotheby being 'gently guided' (corralled, directly controlled) by Moissan after her dash-off outing. The excitement had lingered with Sotheby, her cheery positivity about Carbuncles and her love of Critters having seen the aid to the local wildlife primarily involve a series of unprofessional wildlife Heimlich Maneuvers and encouragement for everyone to do the same. It had worked! And, more to the point, Ultraman Geed's Smash Moon Healing had done. . . something, easing, to the spirit of the forest that had gently swept through the ephemeral branches echoing from past or future but could not be now. --- A wooden-masked woman in black had sat at the windows on the Walden's upper area at a table for one looking out a tall window with pulled-open curtains out over the misty woods, the rigidity of twist-roots and vaguely feline mein impassive to the revelry of humanity beneath and the faint sworls outside. The party does not draw her gaze or any of her attention, isolated on an island with an unlit candle and a fine vase holding a long and unflowering branch that seems preserved as if petrified before her on the table. Through the window, in the forest beyond, distant, there's firefly lights that glow and it is these that captivate the whole attention of their surveyor. The masked figure's head turns to follow a shift, almost startled, ''brushed'' in a way that wasn't wrong but was unexpected. The mists that shroud the forest around the Walden move in a breeze, rolling curls of unhindered mist leaving a rustle, a spiritual breath of gnosis as air-about-leaves sounds without the instrument to accompany. A sound outside of time, but for her it is strange and unknown portent. Without announcement, the woman bearing the wooden mask stands, just as Forget-Me-Not reappears, unconcerned with all but her own mission now. She had been called, loudly, and now she answered the voice that spoke to her more clearly than all others. --- Meanwhile. . . 'Sotheby, do you have the ability to make explosive mixtures with what you have on hand?' With Ms. Moissan diverted to handing out invitations, her prepared envelopes coming out as she pockets her Foundation pin and white armband-ribbon securely away, Sotheby is free to answer questions. "Why, explosives? That's barely alchemy! That's more of... ingredients? I am a proper *lady* and can disappear a wall under several circumstances! There's Eraser Fluid, which is a form of aqua regia cut with the tears of the Tsuchinoko, and if you'd like to just melt stone, the venom of a Basilisk doesn't even need to be cut! Though, the fumes are a little--" She grins as she waves a hand before her nose. "It's a lit-tle fume-y? Sharp-ly pungent and certainly better mixed and balanced. Truly, alchemy is the exchange of sharp high points for a smooth and perfect sphere of an Idea, the expression of all aspects together!" 'Sotheby, do you have the ability to make explosive mixtures with what you have on hand?' "Oh, if you've any rare ingredients, I'm sure a truer flame than the stone would melt it quite quickly and silently? Have you any fresh phoenix pinion? The down is enough, but plucking it means you'll quickly lose the spice to it..."
Regulus	''We can't afford a repeat of her LSCC 'reconnaissance' episode.'' "I learned my lesson!" Regulus squeaks, cheeks turning bright pink. "I've done so much sneaking since then." Well, like, one sneaking but it was a big one! "Even I wouldn't mess around at a time like this." Give it at least one or two more Storms before she's ready to be goofy this close to one. ''Rich people, rich people... They might already be off from that alone.'' "Oh be nice." Because, like, Lilian and Bond are right there but she's smiling until a realization hits her. '...I wouldn't think of them as rich people anyway, soon their pockets will be even more empty than mine are. The real ones about to fill their pockets are the ones who will be buying everything these people own for a ha'penny." She sighs. "Not that either will be happening. They're going to all be..." Despite being someone who would usually giggle along with a joke like that, Regulus doesn't seem to be finding it all that spirits-rising today. ''Who else could I stick to, if Regulus needs to go invisible?'' "I could just make you invisible too." Regulus points out to her. ''Good luck charms!'' Regulus actually reaches her hand out for one too. "Oh nice, with these we'll have an edge for usre." Of course she believes in these sorts of charms. She puts it under her hat.
Lilian Rook	'I would just as well not attempt small talk, this time, with the... is 'goons' the correct term?'     "Oh they're crude and simple people anyways." Lilian sighs, tacitly admitting to socializing with them last time in doing so. "I suppose that goes for hired muscle anywhere." she says, mostly surrounded by what she would consider hired muscle if asked tomorrow. Then she starts muttering something about 'spitting' while seeming fussily unhappy.     'Young miss Sotheby, since the Timekeeper asked, are there any items you might require?'     "Likeways." Lilian says. "It may or may not be up to your usual standards, but I do stay stocked with the bare minimum." She stops to pat the side of her little bag.     'Have you any fresh phoenix pinion? The down is enough, but plucking it means you'll quickly lose the spice to it...'     "Well . . ." Lilian's eyes slowly slide away. "Ah. Bad timing. I'm fresh out as of yesterday." she says. Copingly.     'Even I wouldn't mess around at a time like this.'     Lilian had left Regulus at that, deciding to trust in someone Vertin likes when the chips are actually down, rather than just faffing about, but later on, she can't quite help but exchange a worried look to Tamamo and murmur "I know Bond is with them, but god I hope we don't see a repeat of the NAZCA situation. Please anything but that."
Tamamo	"Phoenix? Hm, phoenix... such a creature is as rare as a dragon in my homeland, unfortunately." And dragons are, perhaps fortunately, quite rare. "Can aught be done with the shed scales of a tsuchinoko? Ah, for fire, I do have... no, I suppose the orichalcum is only sun-warm... I keep trying to find a use for these jade pieces, but I have not had such time for jewelry of late, I suppose." Tamamo rummages further.     Pulling out a palm-sized bamboo tube with a paper talisman wrapped around it, Tamamo taps it, as if trying to remember why she has this. "Mahavici." The contents of the tube, with one cap removed, have the sort of pungent smell of the more dangerous end of a spice rack to disturb. "It would, at the least, burn both long and quickly."     'Oh they're crude and simple people anyways.'     "They will not yet be driven mad by the Storm, I hope. Even so, this era is one in which, perhaps, even the well-intentioned can be a bit..." A sentence that doesn't finish out of politeness. "And I would not wish to strain our good fortune with those paid to mean ill."     'I know Bond is with them, but god I hope we don't see a repeat of the NAZCA situation.'     "Oh, dreadful thought. We will not meet misfortune to the level so engineered, I am certain. And yet..." Tamamo tilts her head, cocking an ear. "Rather crowded tonight, it is." What she means by that is a mystery.
Odette Raskins	"Though, the fumes are a little-- It's a lit-tle fume-y?" "If fumes are a problem-" Odette's already well-prepared for that, reaching into her pockets to take out the ever-vital tools of someone used to working with chemicals and infectious materials: Breathing masks and safety goggles! She doesn't really blink twice at the mention of Basilisks and Tsuchinokos, either, although that's entirely because she has no idea what either of those are. She does, however, look over at Tamamo when she repeats the tsuchinoko's name, and also tucks one of those little charms into a jacket pocket for safe keeping. "Thanks, Missus Tamamo. Are those tsuchin.. Noko things common where you're from?" "Oh be nice." A reaction! Satisfied and without realizing she's inadvertently taken that jab at Lilian and Bond at all, Odette furrows her brow instead at Regulus reminding her of this particular point in history. "Oh, right... Ergh. Yeah, if everyone's going to get hurt by what's going to happen... Mmn." Odette, too, finds her mood dampening alongside Regulus at realizing all that. "Get in if you're riding with me." Bond bringing his car right to where the other infiltrators are finally makes Odette realize she had, in fact, taken a job at him earlier, and she shrinks another inch that night. "Oh.. Uh. S-sorry, Mister Bond.  Right, smile, place we want to be... Yes, we want to be here. Of course we want to be here. We belong here, we're in a-" Having only seen a few car interiors before, Odette does take a moment to just marvel at the shape of the car. "Oh, this is real different. The roof-" She raises her hand briefly to feel the nothing overhead. "-and the seats-" She pats the cushioning under her. "-aren't anything like the other cars or shuttles I've been in. So does this makes us your guests, then? Or..." Having a cover might help a lot, actually. "Gamblers, partygoers.... Co-workers, maybe? Although we're not really dressed identically in any way." Another scrunching of the face, while Odette looks down at her EMT uniform jacket and long skirt with the big cross symbol on the back and sides, respectively. Comparing herself to Bond, Regulus, and Tamiel has her feeling a bit out of place right up until she thinks it over a little longer. "Or maybe just being that lucky of a high roller would be enough. Money, money, I've got money..."
Ein	'I'm fresh out as of yesterday.' Sotheby nods, the gentle commiseration of someone not fully processing every part of the words, and then her eyes widen, and she gives a bright-watery eyed look to Lilian with a stiff-brave upper lip. Typhon, her rabbit stuffie that has taken up a residence perched on shoulder or hugged to the back of her neck in a kind of stuffie-zone created about the ruffles of her dress and the backing of the brim of her hat. With slicked-back ears and a little red scarf, it has more character as a pauper's doll or something made by hand than anything designer - and perhaps that is the magic. Brave Typhon touches its ''heart'' as it looks at Lilian with painted white and black eyes, and then reaches out in silent message. Empathy? Communication? A kind of 'me too!', and Sotheby nods again, blinking away her wet eyes and playing off with a faint laugh and sigh. "Oh, me too. . . Father always brought his favorites with him when he could, since fresh is best, but when he came home it was always a wonderful family party..." She's positive about that, at least. "And Barry and I are the best of friends! Why, Basilisks are no more dangerous than any other Critter with proper precaution! And as a stabilizer, they nearly can't be beat, as asking a Gorgon or Medusae to share their abilities is as likely to see you a statue as set with potion-pieces! It's about politeness, no matter what, and so a pro-per lady is one of right bearing!" And then Tamamo offers her the mysterious scales of a legendary Japanese critter, one she had only ever heard or read about! "You have some? Oh, even the scales might be enough. The tears would disappear, but the scales. . ." Sotheby's eyes cross as she focuses and then close to go entirely into her memory of books and brewing. "Oh! Yes, with what I have, perhaps that will be just what's needed. Belly-bulge scales, ideally!"
Tamamo	'...but when he came home it was always a wonderful family party...'     "Oh, how wonderful! I wonder if we, too..." Tamamo glances toward Lilian, with a little too much meaning to fully impart in just a glance.     'It's about politeness, no matter what, and so a pro-per lady is one of right bearing!'     "Just so. One must always approach such critters, and others beside, with proper form, and without reckless haste." Tamamo delivers the 'mhm' tones of reinforcement.     'Belly-bulge scales, ideally!'     "It was a fortunate encounter," Tamamo answers Sotheby and Odette's question both, "in that I found a complete set, as it were."     The item she shows, carefully wrapped in paper now unfolded, looks like the moult of a very fat snake, brown with darker rings, and a lighter belly. Tamamo also carries a small knife, should it be needed.
Timekeeper	"Truly, that is unusual here too?"     "O, dear! No, no, no, no need to worry yourself at *all* about the 'unusual'!" The painting lady gushes at Holly, always sounding like she's one word away from either bursting into laughter or tears, with the painting moving between a handful of abstract expressions on the canvas. "You're a work of art! Inimitable!"     If so much as a breath escaped Holly's lips about blood, or just about what Revenants are, then it's there for her. A black-masked goon in a tailcoat brings her a full glass of it within a minute, spotlessly clean except for a little splatter above the surface of the blood on the interior of the rim. It's as fresh as anything, short from biting the source herself. "You could say I've had a bad experience or three growing up regarding markings on the skin, and so I favor this instead, styled after my mother's!"     "Gold's charming, so charming! Oh, oh, oh," Tears of paint roll down the canvas from goemetrical eyes on her face and neck, in sympathetic agony with the mere mention of Holly having 'bad experiences'. "But your insides are so beautiful! Isn't that all art is; isn't that all life is?" "I'd struggle to know what a proper party should look like just yet."     Forget Me Not bows dramatically (not insincerely, it's never insincere for him) to Holly, with an arm out to one side. "Then allow me, my dear, to treat you without the crust of compromises made of past disappointments. After tonight, I swear the parties thrown by hosts whose standards fall short of your nobility will be like ashes, so used to the catering you deserve you'll be." "What do you... Occupy yourself with... Most days?"     "Oh? Oh..." The woman in the painting thinks about that question for a moment, expression returning to cubist-neutral. "Well, I suppose I'm a bit of a social butterfly, ever since meeting up with everyone! I'll never stop being glad for that, no, no. Sometimes, you know, our friends find the most delightful~ new tapestries, too!"     The little girl glaring at White is easily identified with the Evil Eye as 'Lyra'-- a vampire, which is why she looks like That. She is also, as Flamel can notice at the same time as White, probing at White's mind for any hostile intent, towards her specifically, not even knowing Schneider's name. She just finds spiders scary and upsetting, which is why. "What do you want us to do if we run into him? Or the other ones?"     "Find out as much as you can without being caught." Vertin is slowly making Regulus into such a good student that even Sonetto has to be proud. "If you see an opportunity to use your arcane skill and follow, do so, but don't overextend yourselves. Any of you. After looking through the labyrinth, we'll rejoin you in the Walden." "I think you'll notice if the Storm suddenly speeds up."     Under twenty hours now. Still, Lilian being so impossibly precise off the top of her head makes Vertin actually smile a tiny tiny bit, dropping her wrist back to her side. "Right. Habit."
Timekeeper	"And keep Regulus in check would you?"     Sonetto nods firmly to Lilian, like Regulus is a rowdy kitten that she's responsible for catsitting, but after Lilian turns away, Sonetto shoots Regulus a complicated glance. The topic they just spoke about on the walk is clearly on her mind, pressing her lips together into a wiggle. Something she sees in Regulus's face reassures her enough that it eases away.     "Timekeeper, Dame Rook, you can count on us." "Sonetto, from what I remembered it felt like everybody was losing their mind, but from what the Foundation knows--is it always like that?"     "Yes." Well, despite that, no one seems to be losing their mind! Even the people raiding Sotheby's manor seemed at most a little off-kilter and a little bit too worked up, but not insane.     "The madness will get worse as we are closer to the Storm... likely similar to what we have already seen, but without the capacity for reason or self-preservation. It is different in every era, but the Storm Syndrome comes on... inevitably, faster for humans, or spikes when incited." "If we've invitations, but don't look as though we were invited,"     "Ah..!" The appearance of the nicest car Sonetto has ever seen briefly makes her eyes widen as it rolls down the road towards them. She approaches it like a wild horse. "Is this sort of car something to be expected...?"     Not that she can't disguise herself well. She's ridden enough with politicians before that sitting in the back seat of a nice car towards an establishment like the Walden is a familiar schema in her mind, and she sits with the invitation primly in her lap. She can't pretend well enough to smile, though. "Let's not get caught, been in enough jail cells for one lifetime."     "If we are caught, we will likely be killed, not jailed." "If they're not worried about the Storm at all, that could be a good sign."     "Ah... that is true. But it is nearly certain that the humans inside are not aware of the Storm. Manus Vindictae will likely purge them or use them for monsters when the Storm gets closers, as to not allow any to incidentally survive the Stom." Having a Manus safehouse be a public, human-filled location is actually really scary-- the humans are basically nothing but an obstacle and potential threat to the Foundation, but easily disposable shields for the Manus.     In fact, though, there's barely any trouble getting inside at all. There's some drunken whistles of approval at the Rolls Royce, and the black armored goons flanking the door just glance at the invitations to check their presence. Once they're inside-- it's a party, through and through, but with a growing undercurrent of anxiety. Someone throws his arms around Bond's shoulder, Regulus and Odette are jostled around, Sonetto's wrist is grabbed and she's pulled with a small yelp. "Here for the Storm Gathering, huh?" "It's a huge chance! Those poor suckers cityside won't know what they're missing!" "Better than the banks at this point, ha!" "You here for the betting, sweet cheeks?"     Sonetto's eyes widen as she's yanked along, and she digs her heels into the ground to force the guy pulling her to the bar to stop. "The 'Storm Gathering'-? You are betting on fights done on the stage, correct?" "Way better! Bets against the house, on easy stuff! Whether the DOW will keep going up, whether the sun will rise tomorrow--"     "Ah, sorry." Sonetto politely pries the man's hand off of her wrist and leaves him there dumfounded, hurrying back over to the other three (plus shadow). "The Manus know! And they invited the humans here... which means...."
Timekeeper	"I am a proper *lady* and can disappear a wall under several circumstances!"     "Naturally." Sotheby really is perfect. Despite her willingness to use Sotheby as a sort of directed afflatus missile to solve problems, Vertin's banter with her is still good natured and cheerfully adept in managing the moods and whims of children. "Eraser Fluid, is it? Whatever would happen if you spilled it onto the ground?"     "We ought to avoid fumey if we can. Without a breeze underground, we'd cough ourselves half to death." "I would just as well not attempt small talk, this time, with the... is 'goons' the correct term?"     While Riku is digging, Vertin asides to Tamamo, "If we encounter any goons in the labyrinth," That word does not roll off of their tongue well at all, but they're so smoothly confident about it that you hardly notice. "I believe we'll have to fight them. Aside from our status as intruders, clearing out the rear guard can only help us in the future."     The labyrinth isn't actually that far below the ground. With Geed's size and strength, it's only a matter of minutes before the carvings are uncovered, and with Lilian's guidance, it's even conveniently over an 'open' chamber, with no extra wall to burrow through yet. Vertin reminds Geed to scoop out a slope too, one that's not too steep to run back up when the time comes-- there's few roots here besides the trees themselves, after that fire from years and years ago, so the dirt crumbles easily.     The labyrinth underground is more elaborate than it seemed at first glance. Rather than rough-hewn and cramped cave walls, it opens up into full-blown hallways, supported with pillars carved from the same stone that makes up the walls and floor. With the compass Vertin carries, Lilian's precognition, and Tamamo's luck, there's no need to be worried about losing directionality in the underground, but it's easy to imagine how you could. Vertin murmurs the direction of each turn as they're made, inscribing them into her memory.     It's hard to see anything of note down here. Storage rooms, for some alchemical supplies-- "Sotheby, would you like to dig through those?"-- or even just food storage. One side room contains stacks of potions unlike Forget Me Not's replacement alcohol, along with torture implements ranging from obsidian and lapis daggers, to disused iron maidens. The only thing really of note off a quick look is that Sotheby can be *quite* certain about the emerald green truth serum.     There's also goons wandering around! Not just the odd suit-or-gowned masked goon, carrying things from someplace to someplace else within the labyrinth, but more monstrous creations like the ones Lilian was attacked by just hours ago. Black oily hands the size of large dogs crawl through the hallways on sharp claws, but the alarm's not raised, so they're only ever one at a time.     One of the goons is carrying a crate, headed in the same direction as the party is. Inside, once they're taken out (black goop splatter and appropriate echoey death-growl) is dozens of the black Manus masks, hands woven together like a blindfold.     There's one chamber in the labyrinth, right nearby the border into the Walden itself, that's done up like a movie star's dressing room or a seance, in blue and gold fabric with burnt incense and jewelry everywhere. It's empty-- the occupant, certainly not Forget Me Not himself, must be inside. However many shortcuts Sotheby made by carving through the walls, there's somewhat of a trek from the Walden to the exit, but not an unmanageable one.
Riku Asakura	'Will you be able to manage that with the time you have remaining?' "I should be able to do this, no problem!" Ultraman Geed says, while digging the hole deeper.  There isn't any time-keeping device on him, or any greeble that states how much time he has left.  Fortunately, there isn't much effort required to dig a hole.   Vertin directs Geed, and Geed follows guidance as best as he can.  It doesn't take long to dig to the underground parts of the Walden, but it takes a few more moments to make it a slope that can easily be traversed to get down, and then back up again.   Once complete, Geed starts to fade away again, and Riku appears again.  He ducks down into the underground area as the others discuss methods of getting through rock and walls.  There are creatures everywhere... and it would be bad if they had to fight their way through all of this.  So Riku sticks to the wall and lets people ahead who are better at stealthing than he is.   Riku doesn't say a word, following behind the group as they see the masks and the chamber that's like a regal's or a movie star's room.  Where do they go from here?
Holly Asturias	"You're a work of art! Inimitable!"     "How charming... truly if there had been any issues with the host, you words alone would mend them!" She's putting it on a bit thick, but she's also undeniably flushed from the compliments. And the fresh blood. The fresh blood is a nice surprise, one she doesn't question (openly) the source of. Maybe they have a nice donor in the kitchen! A selfless chef?     She's trying not to think they might have more prisoners down there.     For this.     Hm.     She eyes the glass, nose scrunching just a bit.     Well it's in front of her NOW. Wasting it wouldn't matter. "But your insides are so beautiful!     "My... insides?" The changing expressions of the painting are taking her a bit by surprise. She had no trouble following along "a sapient painting" but for it to be so expressive can still catch her offguard. "Aside my golden heart, I can't say mine must be very much different from yo--" Holly pauses, spotting the catastrophic error in her wording. Huh. "... pardon my asking, but do *you* have insides?" "I swear the parties thrown by hosts whose standards fall short of your nobility will be like ashes, so used to the catering you deserve you'll be."     "O-Oh. Why, that sounds..." That almost sounds like a *threat*. It's humblebragging, if anything, 'our parties will be the finest and will make you forget the others' but... knowing what's in the basement changed the tone of everything here so, so much.     "You must be *quite* confident in your parties, not that I can't see why." A laugh, a giggle, natural - half-earned, and Holly idly swirls the sip or two of blood left in her cup, eyes fixated on the drink. "Your Lady Arcana. What is she like? Does she enjoy such parties, or is this more akin to a hobby for you?" They knew so little about her. They knew they came to meet her, and now it was evident they were likely going to have to escape *from* her, barring some incredible development. That's not impossible, is it? That it's all a big misunderstanding and there was a good reason to keep a poor young lady drugged up in the basement?     Holly suffers a bit of damage even trying to think that.     It's a bit much even for her naivety.     She turns to White and Flamel, idly. It's wordless, but...     Well, she's growing more concerned by the minute.
Regulus	''The Storm Syndrome comes on... inevitably, faster for humans, or spikes when incited.'' For Regulus, it almost feels too suspicious how catered the Foundation is to dealing with The Storm down to its bones. But she thinks of Sonetto and pushes it out of mind for now. Maybe that's just because they were dealing with it for a while, or maybe it's convenient for them, but she does trust Sonetto and if she can trust Sonetto then she doesn't have to worry about that right now. Of course, the fact that The Storm also seems to mock that 'vaunted human rationality' people kept spouting now and then by driving them mad faster than the arcanists... It's an existential threat, but it also comes with its own meaning, she thinks, even if she doesn't quite grasp the full of it right now. She is naturally going to join Sonetto in the car. "Even if we don't look like we're actually super rich, if we look like we want to be seen that way, it'll probably work." She asides to Sonetto, further grimacing when she speaks of how they'd be killed. "Well, I'm not a big fan of that outcome either." She mulls. "If we can calm people down that should probably slow the progress too huh..." Though that might not really be an option today. Losing everything in an instant isn't something you can tell people to chill out about. Once they arrive, she gets pushed around and says, "Hey watch it--" because she figures saying nothing would be worse than complaining a little. She hears Sonetto yelp after briefly losing sight of her and she quickly ducks underneath an arm and peers over to her in case she's in trouble! --but Sonetto is able to extricate herself. ''The Manus know! And they invited the huamns here... Which means....'' "They intend to make a whole lot of monsters." Regulus sighs. "And lord over the rest." APPLe is safely stowed away in her bag--Regulus figured that APPLe would draw eyes, she has encountered the Manus before herself after all and APPLe seems like the sort of person whose description makes it in reports. "Does that mean they accelerated it after all?" Regulus considers. "Or just that they're able to predict it, sort of like Vertin's device?" She bites at her lip thoughtfully, "...You don't think they'd be ready for trouble in that case, do you?"
Tamiel Luxis	"Does that mean they accelerated it after all?"     "They must have," Tamiel's voice sounded softly from somewhere by Regulus' shoulder. "It's happening early, isn't it? And the only different factors, are them. And us. So, either WE made it come faster, by accident, or they did, somehow..." Frankly, she couldn't see how an accident could have sparked or influenced this, so surely, it must have been on purpose.     "...You're right. We have to assume they're ready for things to get really bad, really fast. They're probably watching for us." Could they have possibly been recognized, been let in on purpose? Mice, invited into the trap?     Tamiel, unseen, literally beneath notice, could ply her own sort of trade. But Tamiel's eyes and ears could slip anywhere where there was shadow.     Regulus' touched someone else--a young lady carrying a drink--and something slipped between shadows. That woman's shadow touched another, sitting down, and it jumped, then. She let loose a few of those--three? Four? To let them be carried to quiet places, where they might overhear something...Or even latch onto one of the servants.     People milled about around them, and while the others rub shoulders, Tamiel hoped she could overhear the sort of things that the people of the Walden might say somewhere they thought wouldn't be overheard.
White	White is glad that Holly is taking to the situation with a natural looking enthusiasm; it makes it easier for her to just kind of coast and think. Still, she's had enough practice trying to get people to like her in recent months (and looked up enough social advice, by now) that after slotting the painting-woman into place as a 'fancy noblewoman type' in her mind, she at least has some idea of how to politely engage her. Hopefully. Her tone probably still makes her sound odd and disinterested, but one step at a time!      "It's nice... That you've..." White pauses to think. "Spread your wings." Butterfly joke! That makes her seem normal, right? "... Maybe I should try... Making a quilt... Mostly, I've just... Made clothes... Curtains... Plushies."      White's never made a tapestry, and jumping from 'fashion' to what she might actually consider 'art' is a large step! It's best to start with smaller things, probably. Though, whether she'll actually *do it* or whether she's just being polite is still in question. It doesn't sound disinteresting, at least. Though, her first genuine lie of the conversation arrives with- "I'd like to see them... Sometime. The ones they've found." It's not as if she *wouldn't* like to, but... She imagines before long, there won't exactly be an opportunity, anymore.      As for Lyra, realizing that she was right to be worried when she confirms the active probing gives her a slight jolt of surprise. While she barely moves outwardly, her inner mind is sort of like a cat that's been caught post-fall and decided to pretend that nothing has happened at all.      But, miraculously, there's no hostility there toward Lyra, or even most of the rest of the Manus yet. She's uncomfortable with Forget Me Not for his fervor and the way his authority and preferences relate to Schneider's situation, but the rest? She hasn't been personally harmed by them in any way! Lyra in particular, from exactly the moment White recognizes her as a vampire, has found herself tragically slotted into the unique mnemonic position of 'The Manus's Sophia'; and just like Sophia, White doesn't feel hostile so much as she kind of wants to pick on her. As she finally decides to let her eye slide shut again post-analysis, White spends just a moment sticking her tongue out at Lyra. Just a bit. Just the *smallest* indulgence, to let off a bit of her suppressed anxiety. In the moment, it's important to White! If her thoughts are being read in detail and Lyra can parse all the chatter in her head, then what's done is done. If she can't, then White has to at least *pretend* there's nothing here to scare her. And maybe it's a little funny. Picking on little vampire girls is comforting, in a way.      She, in all her preparedness, is still susceptible to the time-honored method of infiltration known as 'blending in'. In crowds this thick with her attention diverted and no good reason to have her 'agents' posted around (except the one watching over Marian), she's entirely capable of missing the moment when even people that she knows enter the building, at least for a little bit. Holly's glance may find White silently teasing Lyra, or it may find her looking perfectly level and calm... Though that's partly only because Holly isn't yet familiar enough with her. Sometimes, it helps to be inexpressive; she'd be quite bad at hiding things otherwise, really.
Lilian Rook	'Oh, me too. . . Father always brought his favorites with him when he could, since fresh is best, but when he came home it was always a wonderful family party...'     Lilian looks into the soulful eyes of the inexplicably animate little doll, makes a soft 'pwuh' sound from deep in her chest, and smiles so very bravely for Sotheby's sake. "I think I'd like to meet him one day. He sounds like an exciting man."     'Oh, dreadful thought. We will not meet misfortune to the level so engineered, I am certain. And yet...'     Lilian shudders. "I know I'm the one who said it, but don't say 'and yet' like that." she says.     'Right. Habit.'     Lilian deliberately softens up her tone a little. She isn't really sure why Vertin is smiling, but she assumes it must be self-conscious. "It's not as if you've had anyone to draw your attention to it before, so I understand. But all those little glances add up to minutes, and it's a tic that can happen at a bad time."     'We ought to avoid fumey if we can. Without a breeze underground, we'd cough ourselves half to death.'     "Oh goodness please do. I've had rather enough poisons and gases for the next ten years."     . . . . . . . .     'I believe we'll have to fight them.'     "I've no complaints." says Lilian. "It's a bit of an awkward space in which to use a sword, but I doubt they've posted their best and brightest down in the cellar. If you'll allow me to take point, I'll manage." Looking down at her gloves, Lilian turns her hand back and forth under her oddly scrutinizing gaze, and then decides on assembling the barest few pieces of armour over her fingers and knuckles, coalesced from a little spiral of black stardust and tiny motes of gold.     Once they're in the labyrinthine basement itself, the sense of uneasiness about Lilian cranks up a few more degrees, but it doesn't seem to affect her focus. She moves at the fore as she politely demanded, one way or another; and for good reason, considering the observable set of ways in which she spaces herself from walls and takes wide slices around corners, visually checking both ends of every room and occasionally throwing a gaze back over her shoulder to the rear. Once or twice, she tries using a handsign, then just repeats the 'all clear' or 'ten seconds' out loud (quietly).     Of course she wasn't bullshitting about the rest. Even if Lilian has feelings about how she measures up as an alchemist compared to Sotheby, or her general purpose magic as compared to Sonetto, or even her sense for the arcane compared to Vertin, infiltration, reconnaissance, and hand-to-hand combat are where she finally feels like she gets to shine; if only just a fraction.     Even when the group crosses lines with a Manus minion so far down the hall that an alarm is inevitable without immediate gunfire, Lilian has only to whisper "Chaill tú sé." before they're clotheslined into a ground takedown, abruptly caught in a blood choke from behind, or struck three or four times from liver to solar plexus to chin and temple, leaving no time to make noise. She's even so mindful as to catch them before they hit the ground; as well as anything they might drop. The horrid gribblies are a different story, but where it isn't plausible to wait for them to pass, a rank two "Chaill tú an cleas." is enough to draw her sword in the same no-motion and use the overhead space to hew through the only real angles she can between the pillars.     Once or twice, Lilian thinks about the impression she must be giving, but quickly reassures herself that all Vertin will be thinking about is the Storm.
Odette Raskins	"Tamamo presents the tsuchinoko!" "A complete...? Ohhh. " Understanding what Tamamo's getting at there, Odette nods slowly while eyeing the presented moult. She doesn't touch it herself, though, since she's far more curious to see what Sotheby might have in mind for that than to poke and prod at the pieces herself. "After looking through the labyrinth, we'll rejoin you in the Walden." "the Storm Syndrome comes on... inevitably, faster for humans" With Vertin answering that question handily for Odette, she's got more reason than ever to maintain a proper cover. Leaving the Walden before regrouping is conveniently shunted out of her mind, especially when Sonetto makes it sound like she'd be better off inside where she might be safer from the Storm than waiting outside. Sucking in a slow breath while Bond takes the group in by car, she takes a moment to pop open her medical case before lifting a bottle out of it. She shows it to Sonetto, Regulus, and Tamiel, but she doesn't wave it at Bond because she knows better than to distract someone who's driving. "Th... Third bottle on the left side, kind of a bluish... Denim color? Half a needle should do it if I start showing enough symptoms that it's safer to... Um. Knock me out." She explains, preparing a syringe with the designated fluid and holding that up. "Only in an emergency, but I'll have one here, too, okay?" She chuckles weakly to hold her nerve before slipping a cover over the syringe tip, then sticking it into one of her jacket's breast pockets for safe keeping and easy access alike. "Manus Vindictae will likely purge them or use them for monsters" That, meanwhile, has Odette suddenly feeling less good about the idea of anyone knocking her out in a worst case scenario. She can't just take that back, though, so she'll just have to sweat about it on the way in. She's calmed down a fair bit by the time the armored goons start checking the invitations at least, even putting on a wider grin than usual to look more like someone that's here to enjoy herself. She's got MONEY, after all, and she's even in the right car for it. "This place is really popping off... Uah?" Startled briefly by the jostling, Odette grunts lightly before putting on a wide grin to avoid looking annoyed by that. "Sounds like we're in for some big payouts tonight, then." "You are betting on fights done on the stage, correct?" "Bets against the house, on easy stuff!" "Nowhere for the sun to go but up if you're fast enough! Very easy, very easy!" As she's trying to keep spirits from dipping, Odette does move over to join Sonetto and the Tamiel-shadow, offering to hook an arm around hers before offering the opposite to Regulus. "Which means...." "They intend to make a whole lot of monsters." "They've definitely got some kind of system to know it's happening today, then... But what is it?" Lowering her voice, Odette just belts out a laugh to keep the good vibes flowing before glancing around. She follows the gazes of the partygoers around to see what's even grabbing their attention, and also to make it less obvious when she's watching anyone with a mask to try and identify where they're headed, or what they're looking at (if anything) in particular. "Being ready for trouble means they'd have to know someone's coming here... But how would they? Do you think they have anyone that can read thoughts, too?"
Ein	With the molting of the Tsuchinoko - and a knife? - Sotheby takes the blade from its guard, inspects it carefully as if that is the more interesting item by far for a moment, and then hands the parted knife over her shoulder to Typhon, who very carefully (for a stuffie) puts the knife back in its protector while Sotheby takes the shed skin in both gloved hands, careful and delicate as only slight hands might be. "Wowwww! Incredible! And..." She pulls a pair of tweezers from her bag and digs into the molting, where a few old pale scales had come with the skin, still holding an almost pearlescent shine in the low light. "Look at this! A b-e-a-u-tiful bellyscale! This'll be perfect for an extra strength," She pauses, while Typhon has apparently disappeared the knife as a secret tool for later, and presents the little scale in tweezers, pauses, and then blinks. "Well, Eraser Fluid comes from taking the enig-matic components of several creatures known for their disappearing acts - and strengthening that disappearing until it's fit to disappear anything! Even solid, stable things. Now, a strong enough acid is the usual base of an Eraser Fluid batch, but for this one, I think I'll do a custom concoction!" Oh boy! While she talks, Sotheby's hands are moving. From taking the retrieved scape from the molting to carefully folding the molting back into waxcloth and sealing with a pinch of fingers before dropping into bag (another secret tool for later), then retrieving scale and pinchers to drop into mobile pestle! She continues as she grinds the scale and moves powder to paper, weighs by a brief lift, and then dumps into vial. Thick lighter in fist, Sotheby torches the vial's belly for a moment, then hands vial to Typhon on shoulder while she manages other reagents. "Balance out the acid, keep it nice and gentle, but by upping the activity in it with a little Pep-up Pepperspice, I can give it the same bite -- and the Tsuchinoko, that's a snake! The alignment of fang and bite is well-known, and from there a little--" She mutters to herself, selecting a pre-prepared vial and thumbing over the cork cap of the violently spicy-smelling oil inside and shaking it with a few sloshes to really agitate it. Uncorking carefully, she drips a little of the agitated mixture into an empty vial, tops with a clear jelly that unthickens as she pours it in, and then taps a little bit of the original crushed and heated scale held by Typhon on into the mix bottle. There's a glass gasp, as the glassware itself bloats out, but Sotheby just spins with careful wrist motions, manipulating the motion like a glassblower but with a lot less mouth, and nods firmly. "O-kay! My Stonebelly Buster will bloat us a hole in the walls for us to disappear through!" Sotheby proudly declares, before uncarefully splashing part of the concoction on the labyrinth wall that first stops them. The effect is immediate, if... strange. There's a bite like acid into the surface of the smoothed stone and wall, but as the fluid dribbles the wall behind it bulges and shifts, shifting to accommodate a chunky oval hole like a door placed a little haphazardly into the wall - all archframe, no interior. "Tadaa!" Sotheby declares while giggling, finding the Labyrinth not at all spooky. It was just the servant passages and places she was familiar with! And...!
Ein	'I think I'd like to meet him one day. He sounds like an exciting man.' Sotheby is so happy to carry on about *this* topic, even if big soulful eyes and inexplicably brave returns are a bit above her (or besides her, as the case may be between Lilian and Brave Typhon). "He's truly the most exciting man! And for my tenth birthday he brought home Barry! Oh, I hope dear Barry is okay... His favorite bog cave might get cold and sad!" She frets, almost going back down a poor path before she is immediately re-stimulated by 'hey Sotheby, look over there and pillage the alchemy supplies, while we commit mid-stage battle'. "Of course, Vertin!" She gasps, before trotting off. Alone, if she's allowed! There's *alchemy* to explore! Not even a minute later she's almost complaining. "It's like a wine cellar in here! And nothing's fresh! Bottles and bottles and all mostly shipped!" She'll be just a second.
Lilian Rook	For some reason, she doesn't feel the same about coming back here as she did sneaking in the first time. Spiking the potions to smear some arcanist's good* name didn't exactly fill her with pride for a job well done, but given the imminent onset of the Storm, Lilian doesn't think much of an "Ach ansin arís . . ." here and there to snatch a potion or a ritual dagger out of a side-room without actually entering it, all but magnetically snapping them into her hands where she can put them in the empty part of her bag, currently devoid of the buckle-on carry cases she's already wearing.     The crate full of masks gives her pause. It's the only chance she has ever had to retrieve one. Lilian stops to pick one up uncertainly, but makes sure that Vertin is watching when she does, expecting to be told if they're dangerous to handle if there's any warning to be given.     The final room along the way causes Lilian's unease to self-clarify within seconds. The way she lingers on it to the point that she falls into the rear from the vanguard, debating with herself back and forth and back again on whether to try and justify looking inside, couldn't mean anything good, nor could the unhappy-wistful look she gives it before parting to get ahead of the group again, but once she puts it out of sight, she doesn't show any signs of thinking about it again.     Instead, she's unhelpfully consumed with thinking about her clothes. The last time she was here, she had walked in under the guise of some young sympathizer from an alchemist's association, dressed up as god's sluttiest little recruitable NPC to try and blend in. Now she has to walk back into that building wearing the outfit she'd personally assembled to quietly state her allegiances within the Foundation and the LSCC; the one that Vertin had smiled seeing.     It's stupid to care about at all, she knows, because they'll only be here for a couple of hours at most, and then only to spy on these people and hurry back out again, so what she's wearing couldn't possibly matter in the least, but Lilian still thinks more than once about whether she could find a more adaptable top, which she might be able to button up at the neck at a time like this, and then briefly curses herself for insisting on a backless dress last time, before realizing that her hairpin is definitely more recognizable anyways.     Before motioning the group to the last door, she finally comes to the conclusion that she only started thinking this way after that horrid day and night in Chicago, and a sense of quiet, blood-boiling resentment puts her anxiety to the side. She checks the keyhole first, to see whether it's the same door to the space behind the counter as last time, or somewhere else in the room, then to dot her 'i's and cross her 't's, huffs out "Ansin." before appearing on the other side, out of line of sight, leaving the door already open behind her so that there's no motion to attract anyone's peripheral gaze.
Flamel Parsons	Regulus and Tamiel will find that their typical methods of stealth, their light and shadow respectively, have to work around Flamel's psychic spotlight more than they would a regular one. His passive, sweeping perspective from the balcony above, if they want to avoid pinging his radar subtly, is going to need a bit of maneuvering. There's that subtle psychic pressure whenever he's about to lock on, if they find themselves at the fringes of his aforementioned "cone of vision"...     Bond and Sonetto find much less trouble there. The two of them have thoughts so regulated and structured that Flamel's half likely to lose them in the crowd. Less to fear for, but fewer options for conventional stealth. In some sense, Flamel only acts to cover the gaps in the social security that Manus Vindictae provides through the invitations...     Weirdly, Odette's the one who's going to have the most struggle. With a combination of lacking conventional stealth *and* mental subtlety (due to anxiety) she may need some cover, or to duck behind hazes of alcoholic or gambling joy, to get through this without Flamel's psychic eye falling on her.     Anyone failing to evade too long... Might be surprised at the unclear delay, when they feel Flamel's mind make contact and not *immediately* alert the Manus. Though it may happen sometime soon after, one way or another.     ---     Flamel tilts his head, observing the wood-masked woman leaving. Hmm... *She's* not in on it, so what could motivate her to move? ...Must be nothing. Flamel resumes chattering with the cubist woman. The little girl's mind-probing is fine for him, as he's censored out any of his hostile intent, but a careful eye rests on White. *Her* mentality... She's got it under control, but he makes sure to take a moment and step over into her structured Parallel Minds and carefully throw a rug over suspicious floorboards, so to speak, invisibly keeping out of Lyra's sight as he does and keeping from being noticed by holding a conversation with the Cubist Woman.     "They say," Flamel says to her, gesturing with his glass. "People mostly build stories of themselves in their minds, so they need narrative structures. Personal protagonism, rises and falls, that sort of thing. I'm surprised to meet someone who sees that less as a matter of psychology and more of a matter of... craft? Sorry-- Flamel Parsons, I feel like I'd remember if we'd met, you've got *such* a memorable fashion." He offers an accessibility-minded handshake in the form of a two-dimensional telekinetic hand. "I feel like we see a lot of highly-structured internal narrative..."     "Say, as an art critic, what do you think of Druvis III?" He tilts his head, adjusting his fancy sunglasses. "You and Forget-Me-Not both..." He trails off.
James Bond	Do you have magic over machines, or...?     "Only cars." Sorry...     "I suppose I'll cancel our dinner reservation, then," Bond dryly says. He doesn't really care at all--in fact, he'd rather agree that he and Lilian seem to be bizarre outliers among two classes of people that otherwise are near invariably amoral, unhinged freaks. I wonder what that's about. I'll have to ask her opinion later. "Maybe I can still sample the champagne alone," he muses with feigned resignation and a sigh that's obviously facetious in its dramatization. It's fun to tease Odette.     Stepping into the establishment, Bond doesn't so much as flinch at the sudden physical contact, instead turning around with a broad grin leveled towards a complete stranger. His hands naturally find the stranger's lapels, crisping their jacket for them before clapping the shoulder amiably. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Everyone who's anyone is here. Come and find me later, won't you? I'll buy you a drink." The Manus know! And they invited the humans here... which means.... ...You don't think they'd be ready for trouble in that case, do you?     "It means they expected company," Bond suspects, sotto voce. "Why else have them here, if not to complicate things for us? It's not as if the Storm wouldn't kill humans the same as anything else the Manus could do themselves." He flashes a grin towards a passer-by, lifting a hand in greeting before he returns his attention to Sonetto.     "They either want to kill us here and now, or there's something we can still interfere with that they want us slowed down for. In either case, there's a good chance they have valuable assets here."     I'd like our chances a lot better if I hadn't spent so much of my non-lethals on those damned wild animals. Were he to check the display on his watch, it'd only remind him of how much that was. And it'd make him bitter--but then, he thinks about Sotheby, who is about to lose more than she could have possibly imagined a person could lose. Bond allows himself a sigh through his nose, and reminds himself that I've been through worse with less.     But how would they? Do you think they have anyone that can read thoughts, too?     "Maybe an oracle."     He runs his hand over one of his cufflinks. Bond makes a show of lazily swatting at his face--cover for the tiny drone that escaped, looking like an ordinary housefly. It lazily floats through the air in much the same fashion as its likeness, though with decidedly more intentionality. Feeding footage back to Bond's watch as he guides it, it searches through the crowds for people that look like their attention isn't on the betting or the debauchery. He has no idea how arcanists do their work, but he presumes it'd take concentration to do.
Tamiel Luxis	As spread out as she is, there's really no way one of her ears DOESN'T feel some of her eyes. Tamiel's focus SNAPS to them, sends them darting awayFlamel is the biggest problem--Tamiel is lucky that Regulus also has to watch out for him, or else she'd have to worry about hopping shadows with her main body as well. As it is, it's all she can do to watch from Regulus' perspective, tracking the viewing of his gaze and keeping her shadows out of his view.     It's a game of keep-away--a few times, she has to dare to jump from shadow to shadow across small gaps to keep ahead of him. She tries to keep track of the patterns of his gaze--it cuts out a large swath of the room from easy monitoring, and Tammy ends up favoring the corners. Flamel, as he scans, doesn't catch her out in the open--but sometimes, there's a little flitting sense of Something in his periphral vision--but then it's gone.     Maybe it's just the chaos of the party? There are lots of people here, lots of arcanists. Greed and the influence of the storm flows off in waves, and who knows what little halluciations all of those thoughts could cause, pressed together like that. But as time goes on--especially if he starts to try to watch places he hasn't yet--he keeps almost catching...Something, like a word just on the tip of his tongue...
Odette Raskins	"I suppose I'll cancel our dinner reservation, then" "Huh? W-wait, you don't have to do that. Alone, I mean! Er. Unless you wanted to? Wait, no, but if we made plans, then.." When did they have dinner reservations? Did she somehow manage to forget something that important? Is Odette just reading way too much into this? What if she's not? James strikes her like such a put-together person, so he wouldn't just be sighing and saying things like that if he wasn't serious, right? "We still could! Um. I-I mean, if you're... Wanted to." Maybe she should get a memory test done later, after all this business with Manus Vindictae is done. Flamel's mind stealth mechanics! Indeed, hiding her own anxiety is pretty tough even without knowing Flamel's going to able to pick her out sooner rather than later without having to actually look right at her. Odette doesn't have the same kind of training as Bond or Sonetto, and she's not in the middle of operating on someone where she can just make herself focus in that same kind of way that might still blow her cover through being way too calm. The one thing that she might still have going for her, then, is trying to match her own anxiety with the ambient anxiety in the room. She already knows there's plenty of humans here, and she's sure several of them must be more nervous than they're letting on. Still, she needs to pull her own spiking anxiety down, especially when Regulus points it out over the radio to her. The fastest way for her to do that realistically, then, would be to get some drinks in. It might just come with that side benefit of blending in with everyone else that's drinking, too. Recalling that James had mentioned champagne earlier, she orders a glass of that along with a common drink she remembers from home: A gin and tonic! She has never drank one of those before, though, so she'll have to brace once she does and risk drawing Flamel's attention even with her best efforts to fly under the radar.
Regulus	Regulus wouldn't have even thought to worry about Flamel spotting her if it wasn't for Tamiel pointing him out. She very intentionaly. She isn't entirely sure how to stop a psychic from hearing her thoughts though, that's not something Regulus has the ability to do! In her mind, a disciplined mind would be better to deal with dodging Flamel's notice which, of course, is in direct contradiction to how it seems to work! But she really really really doesn't want to be the reason the mission goes sour. ''It means they expected company.'' "I was really hoping you wouldn't say that." Regulus grumbles, suggesting the thought occured to her as well and she just didn't want to voice it and make it more real. ''Maybe an oracle.'' "Or a psychic. Or even just someone who knows how Elites work." She thinks about Flamel. He's a guy who is attracted to interesting minds and unfortunately for Regulus, she's pretty sure her mind is one of the most interesting out there! She's a really big deal! She's gonna be the next big thing. She feels her breathing starting to tighten. She thinks about the very same advice she just got from Lilian. Focus on what she can do next. Look out for opportunities to take action. Make constant mental notes of her environment... ...Wait, Regulus thinks, that's it! It's probably not easy for him to read everybody in the room all that deeply. She has two ways she can try to hide herself. First, she does the most powerful thing she can do to disguise herself: She takes off her sunglasses so her beg wet eyes are visible instead of the usual protective sunglasses and she deposits them in her bag. Totally unrecognizable now for sure! But the other thing she does, the one that she thinks will get her and everyone through this, is that she starts paying attention to the stock market. The best way she can escape notice is by keeping on her mind the things that everybody else is thinking about. That's right, she's going to have to go against every instinct of hers and CONFORM. But that's okay. She's being undercover as a dead-eyed office worker who is thinking about numbers going up and making numbers go up. But deeper down, she's even worried about Schneider. She doesn't see her in the fighting cage. Does that mean she's in trouble for being kissed by Vertin?? Has someone plucked that out of her mind and told Manus Vindictae and now she's banished or worse?? No. Love must prevail. Or liking someone more than a little must prevail. She keeps thinking about stocks and shit while trying to surreptitiously avoid Flamel's physical gaze as well as his mental one and see who else might be up there. "Sonetto, Flamel is here, we should try to focus on stuff that wouldn't be unusual to think about here." Regulus suggests to her.
Tamamo	'I know I'm the one who said it, but don't say 'and yet' like that.'     "Of course, I should not, but... does the atmosphere not seem charged? The coming Storm, it could be." Tamamo decides not to end that on another 'or else...' but she could have. It was waiting.     With this many forces gathered, right at the cusp of an event like this, the threads threaten tighter tangles.     'Eraser Fluid, is it? Whatever would happen if you spilled it onto the ground?'     "That does sound rather dangerous."     Once in the labyrinth -- "Thank you, Asakura-san," -- Tamamo doesn't just leave the danger to Lilian, but she does leave the fighting to her. Instead, Tamamo's focused on finding their way around the danger, divining paths to reduce the need to fight -- in particular, to reduce the need to fight more than a single opponent at a time, which she knows won't cause Lilian any issues. This is also a way of watching her back. ALl the easier where walls can also become passages -- "And thank you, young miss Sotheby."     'Luck' is a weapon here, too. It's even useful for immediately finding something you wanted in an old cellar storage room that's otherwise full of junk! Of course, that requires the ability to recognize what it was you needed, and Tamamo's already well-stocked, apart from phoenix down.     ...dozens of the black Manus masks, hands woven together like a blindfold.     "This may be the first I have seen these not attached to a person. Shall I take one? It may be rather useful to examine at leisure, later, if it is not..." Tamamo squints, and checks for, in particular, tracking curses. There's a lot of ways she knows to track people with small items, and putting in that kind of insurance is very much a thing she'd do, even if it only came in useful years later.     ...blue and gold fabric with burnt incense and jewelry everywhere...     Oh, now there is a trove of easily-read personal effects, to anyone with a knack like psychometry, and querying local, small spirits and tangled, metaphysical skeins comes out as a similar shape. "Let us see what may be seen, then."
Lilian Rook	'Of course, I should not, but... does the atmosphere not seem charged? The coming Storm, it could be.'     "About five different ways, yes." Lilian sighs. "Charged with magic, charged with greed, charged with delusion, charged with giddy anticipation, and charged like ozone and pressure." Lilian grimaces through her oddly specific complaint. "You know what I mean. I just hope that the delirium doesn't result in someone well-meaningly blurting out something about Vertin to the worst possible person, thinking them an ally. No matter how badly the Storm Syndrome has them, I'd struggle to forgive the catastrophic trouble that seems to follow that specific misstep a second time."     'This may be the first I have seen these not attached to a person. Shall I take one?'     "I can't imageine the Foundation happens to have many samples." Lilian says, as vague, implicit approval. "I'd like to study one at the LSCC myself."     'He's truly the most exciting man! And for my tenth birthday he brought home Barry! Oh, I hope dear Barry is okay... His favorite bog cave might get cold and sad!'     Lilian half-smiles, wistful and tight-chested. It'd be sensible to assume that she feels sorry for Sotheby, unknowingly about to lose her pet Barry and everything else she's ever loved tonight. It's just that she gets that way before Barry is even mentioned. "It sounds like he's kept very busy, but also like he loves you very much." Lilian says. "I'm certain he'd be hearbroken not to see you on your next birthday, so please be careful and trust in what you're told."
Flamel Parsons	Flamel's gaze has patterns. It's... conversational, actually! It seems like whenever he's talking, his mind drifts, and that's when his telepathic and clairvoyant senses start to move around. Tamiel's careful observation can identify the timing, albeit one that's a bit less regular. If she listens for the distinct sound of his tone of voice through the crowd, it can even be almost an early warning.     Odette's tactic is actually great, and works perfectly with her skillset. What quiets the mind? Chemical depressants. What's a good chemical depressant? That's DRINKS baybee. Careful mental-haze-management can keep her under Flamel's radar.     Regulus doing a self-image disguise actually does a lot. There's a phenomenon called 'enclothed cognition' that says a person's mental image is deeply affected by their appearance and clothing. By seeming to be someone different, Regulus actually defuses a lot of the telepathic senses. By *actively conforming*, you'd think an ironic process paradox would happen, but, you know, everyone who conforms actively thinks about conforming and stresses out about what they're hiding. So that's actually perfect? It's the same thing everyone else is doing.     If Flamel has detected someone, he isn't alerting yet... His bright, cheery conversational tones still carry indistinctly through the crowd's sound. Bond's spydrone, ironically, slips through his observation easily. It doesn't have a mind! If he's careful, he can identify Flamel's exact position, ID him as a person-of-interest, and supply the others with useful timings for his attention, as well as tuning in on the conversation between the Manus leadership (currently art appreciation, likely soon spicier and more useful).