Log:A Gift of Lies
The Caregiver was the one that opened the door and decided where to be, initially, when accompanying the Capitalist on through, away from the cage of the Facility. Therefore, what she's craving to eat and how to be seated while she's eating, it becomes the setting at first. They've ended up in a French cafe in springtime, sitting out on a patio of tables with fragrant planted city blooms nearby in boxes and pots and on trellises. It's no doubt some relative reproduction of somewhere she liked to eat as Elaine in Paris, but really, she hasn't made this place specific. There's no name branding, for instance, it's just named Cafe de Rue (Street Cafe), and the people around them are dressed nicely for springtime lounging, but their clothing isn't real era specific.
It's a good choice because the smell and sight seems to immediately perk her appetite and demeanor after the way things were turning with various factors and her piano music in the parlor, prior. It also has plenty of authentic cafe coffee for offer while she has at fruit and cheese and bread and quiches, accompanied with wine. She has them bring the bottle and another glass, so the Capitalist can have options. While eating, though, she mostly keeps things light and passive with commentary conversationally, focusing on actual food and ambiance, the exhilerating feel of being somewhere not-the-Facility, even if it is technically a fabrication of life. It's life enough, for now, the setting change sinking into her with posture change the longer they're there.
By the time she's ordered dessert for them to share, she's lounging back against her chair with one leg crossed over the other playing with her chardonnay in swirl, looking at male company with a slight smile, "So I have a little somewhere in my head, but I'm going to ask you a series of questions to help with details and really settle the picture for us to walk into and interact with. Deal?"
The Capitalist always found it fascinating when joining another into their own fantasies via the Anywhere Rooms. Those who have accompanied him before, knows that he always starts out in an office of some sort. Usually in a highrise building with a magnificent view. And he treated that as if that were his job. He worked there. He belonged there. From what he's heard from others, they take a more leisurely route or do completely weird things which he may roll his eyes at on hearing about them. From there, he often did whatever one would, living a normal life. He would often stay in these rooms for years, only to return back to the Facility as if very little time had passed at all.
So here he was, looking the place over just as they are being seated at what looks like a rather posh cafe. "I would question coming to a place like this when you could go anywhere in the world or beyond, but I see that this is Paris, so... and that's many a person's dream vacation." He asks for a cup of coffee, of course, but he'll take the wine as well. He's not picky about what he eats and nibbles away almost absently as he watches the world go by. That is what he can appreciate in these 'worlds'. There was a living, breathing world going on around them, something which they don't get in the Facility. Something which was absent when these portals showed up in the Facility originally.
She may have ordered desert, but he's still taking a bite out of a meat-cheese-olive combo, just as she brings up these questions she was going to ask him. "A little somewhere in Paris, I hope? Or is this something that we have to leave to switch out from and return?"
"Because it's intermediary and I wanted good bread. There was a place I liked as Elaine in Paris, like this. I couldn't remember what it was called, though, I just know it had the best bread. That and... I just wanted somewhere comfortable, nice, and fairly baseline to think about what we should actually do. This is more about you than me." The Caregiver explains to the Capitalist with an easy hitch of her shoulders. Her attire has changed to a breezy, billow-sleeved v-neck blouse in white that shows outlines of a lacy camisole fitted beneath, feminine silk and cutting edge fashion. It's worn with deep, dusky blue high-waist slacks that fit and flare some at the bottom hem where she's wearing chic black pointed heels. There's a blazer jacket tailored and cut to match hung from her chair for when they get up, and her hair is twisted in elegant updo with downplayed, expensive twinkle accents of diamond jewelry here and there.
After a drink of her wine, the brunette tacks on informatively and rationally, "And this isn't the only meal we'll be having. There's time for mindblowing dining experiences. We're not leaving until we want to leave. We are in a town on the outskirts of Paris, and from here, we can take cars, trains, flights, anywhere in this world we need to be. We'll get around the way we would in real life. And... I didn't imagine a year era because I didn't want to force you into feeling the things Christian might feel. This is probably a whole world based on what I know from life, television, books, and imagination, if I had to guess."
After drawing in a breath, she leans to put her wine glass down when chocolate ganache cake and fruits and cream are delivered, picking up a fork with adjust of her lap napkin when her legs uncross, "We're loaded. You're a CEO for a medical technology firm that deals in prosthetics and artificial organs, as well as stem cell regrowth projects that have just hit consumer market. It's your job to manipulate and ensure growth continues and that you stay ahead of competitors to monopolize the industry with your company."
Her fork swipes a blackberry in cream and leaking chocolate drizzle next to the cake piece before she eats the berry and licks her fork, "So this is where questions happen for me to finalize the details -- I can be here in the capacity of your assistant that constantly comes along to help and advise and ride your pretty ass with a schedule." A pause, "Alternatively, I can be waiting for you at home to play a little house with dinner and some spoil-style loving when you're done for the day, complete with a dog and fireplace. I guess I could be a stripper to unwind with too, but I feel like we've done that..." There's a little quirk of smile before she offers another alternative, "And if you'd rather just go live and see me once in a while instead, I'm the hot doctor you do business with that's responsible for all Paris metro organ and limb acquisitions from your company. I'm your power sell."
When the Caregiver brings up Laine, The Capitalist's gaze had already started to lower and idly stare out at what is left of his unused utensils beside his outstretched hand. All of that went beyond Christian's memories, but she had brought it up at one point during their past stay in the Facility. As this is Paris, the Capitalist is still dressed up in a sharp double breasted suit in a slate gray hue with a white shirt beneath accented by a denim blue tie with a clip. The cut of his pants, however, has more of a Parisian flare, being tightly fitted to give off a more slender physique than ones he might normally have hanging in his closet. He has on a pair of sunglasses still, his hair slicked back as usual.
Taking up his fork, he begins to absently prod at the served cake, scooping up some of the fruit and cream more than anything else, which he has delivered to his mouth as he listens. "It would be interesting, wouldn't it, to be return to the eighties, early nineties." They just got back from the mid-nineties. In truth, The Capitalist never hated Christian Price. He never really despised any of his incarnations the way some others feel about their own lifetimes.
"It's a good thing that I'm the CEO. Can't say I know anything about medical technology. That was one thing that I've yet to experience in any of my lives. Though," His brows lift from behind his shades, "I guess I better start reading." He even looks around him now to see if she summoned up a briefcase of sorts with various information that might help him better play the part.
After taking a slice of cake and savoring it, he reaches for one of those berries to pluck out with his fingers, still covered in cream, and toss into his mouth, his dark eyes seeking hers out from behind his sunglasses. Each of her choices were interesting. All despite the strangeness of living multiple lives before being dragged back to the Facility after each. Not that he'll complain about any sort of relationship play. It was interesting, to say the least. Though, they started out as cousins from the very beginning. So he watches her in thoughtful silence and despite his gaze being veiled, she can feel his eyes on her. "Or you could be the CEO of a rival company, vying to make the same discoveries, all while we play this game of wining and dining each other to see who gains the upper hand." This is when his gaze lowers as he sets his fork down to reach for his wine glass to sip from.
"We should Vegas and go to a rock concert in the eighties next time we play pick and choose. Or I could show you Elaine's place from after. Remind me." The Caregiver tilts her head some with consideration that's visible after the man's commentary, and apparently, given the noise in her throat and the things she presents for future time killing and sanity dates... she's interested too.
As the Capitalist's mind immediately jumps to brushing up on the investment, though, the brunette woman can't help but break into a fond smile she tries to smother away with a bite of cake to chew, poking it in with an amused, playful flourish of fork before she puts it down to replace with hold on her wine glass.
And while washing down the bite with chardonnay, the Caregiver's lashes bat a few times with mild surprise and consideration, apparently not thinking herself apt to be any real competition for him in such areas. But then, putting down her glass, she starts speaking acceptance a bit slowly, gradually breaking into a smile that's growing brighter with a hint of proud realization.
... I could do that. We'd have respective angles and edges to use. Strengths and weaknesses. I have medical and physiology education in two lifetimes. You'll have the edge in numbers, though, and practiced professional drive. Your tablet and briefcase are in the car with the driver, by the way." Suddenly, the woman removes her napkin from her lap and rises to put her hand out for shaking from the other side of the table in 'you're on' fashion, "I'd ask to seal it with a kiss, but I'm a cutthroat businesswoman now, alas." Her tone of voice is so rich with warmth and lacing amusement, it's almost cute the way she says it and sounds nothing of the sort, "Show me your pretty eyes while we shake. After we finish here, we're rivals. Which means you have about..." She looks down at the remaining cake and wine, "fifteen to twenty minutes left to decide how much you want to kiss me and get it out of your system before we start."
The Capitalist has no idea what year it was currently, in the Facility. How far from the eighties they'd come. Was it more akin to the universe where Penumbra existed? That was the latest time period that he can recall. But was it even rea-- Of course it was. "Hearing about the adventures of others, jumping out of airplanes, I think. Spelunking." He's making some of this shit up, but he's heard stories, "And here you want to go to a rock concern. In the eighties." He just has to laugh at how simple she prefers her life to be. How normal. "Returning back to the eighties would take me back to the Lodge of all places." That's the eighties he knew best. It wasn't the most thrilling of places. But it was a start.
And just like in Caregiver fashion, she has to openly analyze everything which he hadn't given much thought in. He just thought it was a fun idea and has always had a thing for such power structures. It's probably why he hooked up with the Chief of Security back in his first lifetime. She was a strong woman. Still seated comfortably in his chair, he watches as she rises then notes her extended hand. "Tablet? Well that hints at what year this could be." To her request, though, he does reach up to slip those dark glasses of, to fold and tuck away into the breast pocket of his jacket. All the while, he remained seated, looking up at her with his dark eyes. He soon rouses himself up to stand, towering over her now when he takes her hand in a firm, business-like grip.
He has to think this next offer over, but the Capitalist eventually states, "That, I'm afraid would feel like cheating. Though," He adds, his tone lifting for that one word, "I'm sure that we'll meet again in some back office or hotel room before this is all over." And to that he has to smile.
"Ah." The Caregiver breathes in response to Capitalist after the shake, glancing down at their hands a beat before wetting her lips and withdrawing her hand to ease back into sit, legs crossing at the ankles alongside her chair. "Maybe." She's quiet for a moment before reaching for her wine glass to take a sip of what's left to drain it. Then she picks up her fork to set back into her cake with a drop of napkin into her lap.
After chewing for a while, she refills her glass halfway from the bottle left on the table, then drinks before telling the man, "At least we know we won't have this life interrupted by something terrible and get to leave it on our own terms, when we feel finished. Maybe it's a lie like everything else could be a lie. We don't get to live the lives we deserve or want while we're living. But this is //our// lie and we're in control."
The woman's shoulders hitch a little bit and she gives the Capitalist a slight smile before picking her fork back up to finish dessert, "Your keys will unlock any house you find yourself wanting. There's a phone in your briefcase. The address of your main office is notated, you have a temporary password to reset all access passwords."
"We have control to an extent, I believe." The Capitalist says once he's also reseated and taking small sips from his wine glass. "Accidents do happen and that's not usually something we can control. Just gotta make sure that neither of us are hit by a bus or get into a really bad car accident. Other than that." His eyes are staring down at the rim of his glass, looking thoughtful. "Then again, one of us could get a stalker... and I'm probably not talking about myself." A pause, "Acquiring a stalker that is." Those dark eyes lift to view her again. "That's what makes these living, breathing worlds so interesting." A quick nod is given to her run-down of things she'd thought that he ought to have. "It's nice to start off with all of this. Sometimes when I do this, I tend to start from scratch. Wheel and deal my way into a job and rise up from there. But I've also owned huge corporations before too. I guess running a business is in my blood, though.." His eyes narrow as he ponders this, "I think I've only been a business owner twice before. Once when I owned Anvil Security and the second time, when we were in Prosperity. Everything else, I was working for someone else, I believe."
"There were a couple of other ways I thought to do this, one of which involved... you know, mm. I'll just sit on the other things I thought. I can save them for a rainy day or let them go where ideas wander off to die." The Caregiver tilts her head a little while considering the 'to an extent' disclaimer, then shakes her head mid-thought to backtrack on it. She finishes off her piece of cake and pops the last berry into her mouth before settling back with the rest of her wine to finish, eyeing the contents as she plays with and swirls the pale liquid in the glass.
"I'll call a car. You take the one that's here with your things in it." Gesturing for the check, the brunette pulls her blazer from the back of her chair to get into, sitting up straight to fasten a button in cinch of form at her waist. Then she gets out a small glass screen smart phone to tap into, lashes lowered while her painted fingernails make occasional tick at the screen on texting, "Hopefully, you'll find the learning curve challenging. My mind detailed comfort for us, but... a job is still a job and it's a //very// large and expensive hot commodity company. There was no point in me making a life for you to fully sit pretty in. It's not you."
Rising up from her seat, she grabs her purse and wonders of the Capitalist while straightening her attire, lips tugging with slight smile again, "Be a doll and take care of the check, though? I'm going to smoke while waiting on my driver."
With his wine mostly drained, The Capitalist reaches for his cooling cup of coffee and goes for a sip. "And here I had ideas of returning to Anvil, probably after the events on the Noc... which is unfortunate, because it would mean that the station had already exploded. But just to pick up where I'd left off. New hires to replace..." His voice quiets here, his eyes lowering to the table, "All the men I'd lost. But with the huge payouts from both Weyland-Yutani and Penumbra, I had a huge nest egg I was sitting on." He then has to add, "Then again, we know what else exists in that world during Icarus. So it might not be the best of places to revisit." Here, he smiles brightly enough. "Those were always my dreams, though. To finish what I'd started in various lifetimes. Or try to fix things that I'd fucked up." The Island.
Watching as the Caregiver readies herself to depart, his gaze trails over her form slowly before reaching her eyes. "I'll manage." He says in regards to the learning curve, his hand now reaching into his own pocket for his own phone to scroll through this or that. If anything, she does bring out a smile from him. Yes, sitting pretty really wasn't him-- though in some lifetimes, he may have preferred just that. That dark gaze lifts to view the check, which he reaches for just then to observe. "Smoking? Very Parisian. Despite my picking up the check, thank you for bringing me out here to share in this trendy, yet relaxing afternoon. The food was superb." There's a thoughtful pause now as he licks at his lips in consideration, "You take care of yourself. It's an unpredictable world out there." So much that he often times wishes these rooms within the doors were real.