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Dramatic Chase Sequence! You're running away from something! It could be anything, from a rampaging kirin to a gaggle of overly enthusiastic children! One way or another, you can't stop, and much like a katamari ball, you feel obligated to grab everyone in your path along the way to keep them out of danger! Or perhaps you're more the sort to try and knock them into it as a distraction...?
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SECRET UNDERCOVER MODE ACTIVATE! The three major kedan families all have their own agendas, and you've chosen to entangle yourselves with one (or more!) of them. Are you hoping to shift the balance of power? Gain some favours? Perhaps you're on a mission to bring a criminal to justice, or maybe you just want to get the cream of the crop from the black market.
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Trailing along after Robert, Krei rolls his eyes--he'd caught the part about a hotel, but what hotel? And why? They'd given him what he assumed to be the standard greeting after his arrival, but Alistair would really just like someone to stop and explain things in a way that might actually make sense. To a real person. Who isn't utterly insane.
...asking that of Callaghan might be sort of futile, come to think of it.
"Ah yes, let me just apologize for being mugged," he spits back, a sneer evident in his voice if not on his face as he looks down, readjusts the handkerchief on his lip. "Because I somehow magically planned all of this, right down to being attacked, just for the sheer delight of inconveniencing you."
He shoots Callaghan a suspicious look at that last bit.
"Nothing helpful, unfortunately, unless the shopkeepers here declined to inform me that they take Visa. I haven't been able to pick up a signal on either my phone or my tablet. Not that the phone is much of a concern anymore." He sighs.
For a moment, Callaghan half-closes his eyes, not quite sighing as Krei gets mouthy. The next he step-turns, brings up his forearm, and slams it in to the other man with enough force to drive him against the wall of the building. He leans in close, baring his teeth in an outright savage expression, one that's only so different than the one he wore when revealing himself at Krei Tech.
"Just because I'm not in a mood to kill you doesn't mean the thought of smashing your face isn't as appealing as it's ever been, Alistair. And I don't have to worry about tenure anymore."
The curl of his lip punctuates the threat; he has little, if anything, to hold him back.
"Let me make this clear to you; your concerns here are staying out of trouble, and staying out of my way. If I have to track you down after this for whatever reason, I'm going to be very upset. Understand?"
For all of his height, for all that he tries to stay fit, Alistair Krei is no fighter. He doesn't have the muscle that Callaghan does, doesn't have the instincts or the know-how to block or redirect an attack. The sudden assault slams him back against the wall like a ragdoll, his ill-advised sarcasm quickly melting back into fear.
Forgiving and forgetting are definitely off the table, it would seem.
He nods as Callaghan speaks, maybe nodding a little too quickly. "Fine, Callaghan," he chokes out. A fresh trickle of blood seeps from his lip without the handkerchief there to staunch the still-new wound. "Yes, I understand."
Robert's even had a few opportunities to practice. He's still far from his prime, but he's also far from most men his age. He's taken care of himself as best he can, here, and it's clear by the strength in his grip that if he wanted...
He smiles humorlessly, gives a final shove, and then takes a step back.
"Good." He should probably feel less satisfied than he does, but...he never claimed to be a saint. And if he takes pleasure in Krei's fear, it's only because he knows that it means Krei won't forget this easily. "Now, give me the cards - I'll get more use out of them than you will."
Plastic's in rare supply, here; it might just be worth what he 'spent'.
He cringes at that last shove, and even after Callaghan lets him go there's nowhere to move--the man's a step back, which isn't very far at all. Certainly not far enough for Krei to take a moment to catch his breath, which is what he'd really like to do. Instead there's a moment of confusion (he wants the cards?) before he pulls his wallet out once again and flips it open.
Empty of real money at this point, the billfold contains only a California state driver's license and a solid row of gleaming credit cards. Forget gold--these cards come in colors like black, platinum, and titanium. The maintenance fees on these cards alone could pay the starting salary of someone at Krei Tech.
There's nothing else. No keepsakes, no pictures. Krei pauses for a moment, fingers hovering over the cards. With a quick, nervous glance up at Callaghan, he slips the driver's license out of the billfold and pockets it, then offers the rest of it to Robert.
He briefly considers asking what Callaghan intends to do with them, but for once, wisely keeps his mouth shut.
Thankfully, Krei won't have to worry about those maintenance fees. And really, Callaghan's doing him a favor, lightening his load; those things are all but useless, here, and while there's a slight darkening of expression as Alistair pulls one back - yes, he sees it, and he keeps one hand held out for it in demand as he looks over the other cards.
"All of them, Krei."
That look-over mostly involves searching for a PIC code, not finding it, then bending one briefly to test the make. He's probably going to take too much satisfaction in taking them apart, but- it seems to be standard PVC. Not that he has much of a way to remove the impurities, but if he breaks it down he should be able to refine it in to something useful...
It rankles enough that he's tempted to say something, even after Callaghan's threats, though for the life of him he can't consciously define just why at first. No one else knows who he is in this place. No one cares. Why should a little piece of plastic with his picture on it even matter? Still, he finds himself hesitating just a bit longer before pulling the card back out and passing it over to Callaghan--again, without saying anything.
Maybe it's the acknowledgment that no one here cares who he is. It's such a foreign concept anymore, after so many years of being the wunderkind of the tech world, the name on every Forbes list, on every guest list for every big name event. Without that little piece of plastic to prove that he's Alistair Krei, who the hell is he?
He clears his throat, smoothes the sleek fabric of one of his sleeves. "Anything else?" If Callaghan's going to turn him upside down and shake him for change, might as well get it over with.
Don't tempt him. If he had the microbots on him, maybe...
A quick flex of the plastic on that one, too, and then he's pocketing it with the rest. "Not unless you have a habit of carrying copper with you," he answers, turning to walk again. "But all that aside, I'd suggest you get used to 'roughing it'; this place is somewhere between sixty and a hundred years behind San Fransokyo. And most people are still deciding whether or not they like us - ask someone else for the history, but the short of it is that the 'Foreigners' can make an easy scapegoat. We don't need you giving them more of an excuse."
It's clear he expects Krei to follow. Say what you will about Callaghan, but he does tend to make good on his word, or at least try.
Krei does follow, carefully keeping at least a couple of paces between them--just far enough so that he's not right behind the other man, because he's had about enough of Callaghan to last him the rest of his life thank you, but just close enough to dissuade any other kedan who might be looking for an easy target. If there's an implication of weakness in that, it washes right over him. He's too mentally overwhelmed to care, and it's not as if he hasn't had to employ security guards before.
He could do without having been bought, but there's not much he can do about that at present.
Even the urge to snap back about giving them more of an excuse is subdued out of fear. He stays quiet, letting Callaghan speak while he trails along behind, fretting silently about the blood on his face. The handkerchief is gone, probably lost when Callaghan slammed him into the wall.
At what seems like a vaguely appropriate part of the very one-sided conversation, he finally pipes up. "How long have you been here?"
It was the easiest and simplest way to get him out of there. Callaghan's not quite the sort to point and laugh, even with someone he despises, but he's still of the mindset that Krei owes him. And that nothing is owed in return.
"A few months."
That sort of information, however, he sees no reason to withhold. What does it matter?
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tushanshu_ooc2015-02-25 02:14 am
no subject
...asking that of Callaghan might be sort of futile, come to think of it.
"Ah yes, let me just apologize for being mugged," he spits back, a sneer evident in his voice if not on his face as he looks down, readjusts the handkerchief on his lip. "Because I somehow magically planned all of this, right down to being attacked, just for the sheer delight of inconveniencing you."
He shoots Callaghan a suspicious look at that last bit.
"Nothing helpful, unfortunately, unless the shopkeepers here declined to inform me that they take Visa. I haven't been able to pick up a signal on either my phone or my tablet. Not that the phone is much of a concern anymore." He sighs.
no subject
"Just because I'm not in a mood to kill you doesn't mean the thought of smashing your face isn't as appealing as it's ever been, Alistair. And I don't have to worry about tenure anymore."
The curl of his lip punctuates the threat; he has little, if anything, to hold him back.
"Let me make this clear to you; your concerns here are staying out of trouble, and staying out of my way. If I have to track you down after this for whatever reason, I'm going to be very upset. Understand?"
no subject
Forgiving and forgetting are definitely off the table, it would seem.
He nods as Callaghan speaks, maybe nodding a little too quickly. "Fine, Callaghan," he chokes out. A fresh trickle of blood seeps from his lip without the handkerchief there to staunch the still-new wound. "Yes, I understand."
no subject
He smiles humorlessly, gives a final shove, and then takes a step back.
"Good." He should probably feel less satisfied than he does, but...he never claimed to be a saint. And if he takes pleasure in Krei's fear, it's only because he knows that it means Krei won't forget this easily. "Now, give me the cards - I'll get more use out of them than you will."
Plastic's in rare supply, here; it might just be worth what he 'spent'.
no subject
Empty of real money at this point, the billfold contains only a California state driver's license and a solid row of gleaming credit cards. Forget gold--these cards come in colors like black, platinum, and titanium. The maintenance fees on these cards alone could pay the starting salary of someone at Krei Tech.
There's nothing else. No keepsakes, no pictures. Krei pauses for a moment, fingers hovering over the cards. With a quick, nervous glance up at Callaghan, he slips the driver's license out of the billfold and pockets it, then offers the rest of it to Robert.
He briefly considers asking what Callaghan intends to do with them, but for once, wisely keeps his mouth shut.
no subject
"All of them, Krei."
That look-over mostly involves searching for a PIC code, not finding it, then bending one briefly to test the make. He's probably going to take too much satisfaction in taking them apart, but- it seems to be standard PVC. Not that he has much of a way to remove the impurities, but if he breaks it down he should be able to refine it in to something useful...
no subject
Maybe it's the acknowledgment that no one here cares who he is. It's such a foreign concept anymore, after so many years of being the wunderkind of the tech world, the name on every Forbes list, on every guest list for every big name event. Without that little piece of plastic to prove that he's Alistair Krei, who the hell is he?
He clears his throat, smoothes the sleek fabric of one of his sleeves. "Anything else?" If Callaghan's going to turn him upside down and shake him for change, might as well get it over with.
no subject
A quick flex of the plastic on that one, too, and then he's pocketing it with the rest. "Not unless you have a habit of carrying copper with you," he answers, turning to walk again. "But all that aside, I'd suggest you get used to 'roughing it'; this place is somewhere between sixty and a hundred years behind San Fransokyo. And most people are still deciding whether or not they like us - ask someone else for the history, but the short of it is that the 'Foreigners' can make an easy scapegoat. We don't need you giving them more of an excuse."
It's clear he expects Krei to follow. Say what you will about Callaghan, but he does tend to make good on his word, or at least try.
no subject
He could do without having been bought, but there's not much he can do about that at present.
Even the urge to snap back about giving them more of an excuse is subdued out of fear. He stays quiet, letting Callaghan speak while he trails along behind, fretting silently about the blood on his face. The handkerchief is gone, probably lost when Callaghan slammed him into the wall.
At what seems like a vaguely appropriate part of the very one-sided conversation, he finally pipes up. "How long have you been here?"
no subject
"A few months."
That sort of information, however, he sees no reason to withhold. What does it matter?