A Meeting of the Minds (closed to Elena and AP)

The French cusine restaurant was bustling at this time of night, peak time. Couples celebrating their time together, shy glances from across the tables of 1st time soon-to-be lovers and business men debating loudly with one another. Waiters and waitresses rushing with arms full with plates covered in food or picked clean. The aroma of fresh vegetables and sizzling meat wafted through the room, making the lips of new patrons wet with hunger. Marcels French restaurant was a very exclusive restaurant, tables extremely hard to get unless you were a very public figure or had the cash to flash. The menu was delectable as well; with a 7 course option setting one back over $200, with dishes of cold roasted tomato soup, sautéed veal, 14oz steaks and a range of cheeses. Pittance however, when one looked at the wine menu. Ah, the French and their wine. The list ranged from an affordable range of $100 bottles to the elite $900+ range.

One such bottle, Dom Romanee Conti 1997, an exquisite red wine costing over $1000, was genially carried through the restaurant to a table with a single gentleman seated at it. The waiter wiped a fresh glass and gingerly poured the luxurious liquid. He bowed and returned to his station, leaving the man to enjoy his costly purchase. The man who sat at this table was Arthur Donovan; philanthropist, millionaire and psychotic villain. He brought the glass to his nose and gently inhaled the scent of berries and spices before sipping the beverage slowly, enjoying every delicious drop. Arthur settled the glass in his left hand while his right twirled his dinner knife. Even with his unbalanced chunky implement, Arthur could end the life of anyone within throwing distance, which just happened to be everyone. However tonight was not for playtime. It was business and Arthur was very interested in his soon-to-arrive guest.

He had been contacted via letter by one Elena Marie, requesting his time. This was more than intriguing to Arthur. This woman knew of his distaste of modern technology, choosing to send him a hand written letter. She had also allowed him to choose the time and place of the meeting, corresponding through written word. Not only did this meeting peak his curiosity, but he was fascinated with Elena. From her writings, she seemed like a very intelligent woman and from what Arthur had found through contacts of her history, very skilled in the arcane arts. Arthur also had no qualms in saying that he had a preference for older women. He found women were like wine, they simply got better with age.

Arthur was not 100% trusting with anyone however, which was why, leaning against the table, was his cane, ready to be used if necessary. He hoped it would not be needed. He felt a shiver run up his arms, a shiver telling him a being of immense magical power was very close. Arthur turned to the door of the restaurant, seeing the elegant Elena step through it and make her way towards him……….

“I’m pleased you answered my summons.” Arthur watched as the lady he had been expecting sat down opposite him at their table. Her words were soft, yet they dripped with power and authority. He slowly reached out and poured her a glass of the red Dom Romanee Conti, knowing her emerald eyes followed every movement he made with a hint of tension. Arthur reveled in it, grinning to himself as he replied just as softly “I expect had I not accepted the summons, I would have been paid a visit regardless. At least this way, I’ve set the stage for our little duet.” He grinned at his own off-joke. The grin was like that of a tiger or crocodile, the kind of smile once people only saw once before the end.

This smile was still on Arthur’s face as he added “Just to be completely clear, Ms Marie, I understand that you are quite the skilled practitioner but in acknowledging that, I don’t care how powerful you are, if you try and double-cross me or play me, I will take you, fucking ravage you right across this table, quite violently, gut you like a Cornish game hen and serve you to the patrons of this fine establishment. Entrée?” Arthur pulled the lid off a nearby platter, revealing some cubes of cheeses, mini quiches, tartlets and other tiny appetisers and offered them to Elena, not missing a beat. Arthur’s speeches always left those in company at a loss for words, the lack of emotion in the threats; the seamless switching of vicious threats to mundane topics threw and disturbed those he had encountered. He watched her face for any sign of an emotional response. Nought but a twitch in her left cheek. Clearly she was a powerful being, but the Aristocrat could not give her the idea that he was at the beck and call of any who wished his presence.

While waiting for a response, Arthur took her in. She was wearing a sensible yet enticing black, formal dress with matching high heels. A simple necklace hung around her neck and hung low, drawing the eyes. Her green eyes caught the light perfectly no matter where they looked, her lips, while artificially red with lipstick, were smooth and pursed. Her red hair was like a phoenix following her eternally. Her body was slightly frail but was still very nicely shaped. Arthur would openly admit he was slightly attracted to her and was almost hoping she would try something against him, just so he could claim her. Such was the way the strange, sick mind of a sociopath.

“If I were to double cross you, as you so bluntly put it, there would be little you could do.” Arthur smirked at this. Both parties were merely posturing. Such was the standard way between villains. Who has the bigger proverbial stick? He sipped his wine nonchalantly and grinned at her frown and rebuttal; “Threat? No no, my dear, think of it more as the terms and conditions of our meeting. We sit and talk and all will go well. Either of us tries anything and the other will be sorry. As for what I could do, I have no doubt you could tear me limb from limb with just a thought. But it’s that “little” I could do. All the Aristocrat needs is a ‘little’.”

He nibbled some of the Blue Brie cheese. “But we aren’t here to trade insults and threaten one another. Truth be told, I have no intention to doing such things to you.” A semi-lie. Arthur felt the desire to merely take what he wanted from her. She was an attractive woman with a strong sense of worth about her. Her body, her spirit, her superiority, her clear vanity, her sense of pride. He’d take immense, depraved pleasure ripping them from her. He had done it before and, like a drug, he craved its sweet taste again.

But he ignored these impulses. He knew that something more profitable was on the table from Elena and he was all for the profit. Also, wooing her into consent might allow him to dip into that pot of pleasures more than once. Arthur tested its waters “So, what does an elegant, sophisticated temptress want with a rich, charming, aristocratic sociopath?”