xp_logs | Caymen Islands: Manuel & Mireille

On his last morning at Cayman Islands, Manuel meets up with an old contact - the entire reason for the trip.

Mireille LeClerc was accustomed to her luxuries and indulged in a few while she waited for a young man who might turn into another. Her rolling paper was fine black liquorice which perfectly complimented the leaves they contained. Cognac burned pleasingly from her diaphragm to her nostrils. She was somewhat amused by the expressions on people's faces when they realized that her final indulgement was a tabloid-sized newspaper rife with celebrity gossip.

She did hope that the de la Rocha boy was still entertaining.

"I see you are still busy keeping your nose in other people's business," Manuel approached clad in a white button up shirt, black pants though for once, no tie, maintaining a semi formal meeting rather than a brisk encounter. "When the cats go away, the mice come out to play."She had been a busy little mouse, scurrying around and popping up on the information highway.

"Noses ARE my business, mon petit garçon," Mireille replied as she folded her paper. "Besides, it pays to keep up with your clientele. Changing circumstances require changing scents."

There were times that he couldn't stomach the French language and this was one of them, rolling off her tongue like bad breath and he slipped into the chair across from her, gesturing to the waitress. He gave his order to her when she came, a dry martini, shaken, not stirred, with a twist of lemon. Once the waitress was out of range, his gaze returned to her, hooking his cane on the edge of the table and leaving the silver plated wolf head gazing at her from its perch.

"You look well." Which was to say, she looked rather sickly from his position across from her. The sun paled her slightly and he wondered if that was due to sickness or fatigue.

"Don't bullshit me, Monsieur de la Rocha," she sipped her coffee with an unshaking hand. "The chemo has left me less than refined. It has not, however, affected my brain. We both know the power in my husband's name so do not think to humor me."

His eyebrows rose as the waitress returned and placed his martini in front of him and he picked it up, testing how dry they had made it. Nodding his mild satisfaction, he waved her away, leveling his gaze to Mireille again. "Rumors hold true then. You're name has been repeated from different mouths more than you may be comfortable with."

"Pfeh!" the French-woman spit her disgust. "They think I have my father's weakness, but they forget what I did to rebuild Chirac perfumes after he nearly destroyed it. I keep my ears open, young man."

"You are still the craggy old bitch I knew you to be. Perhaps a little paler," he mused, turning his face to a slight breeze. "It is a wonder they have not put you in your gravel. Please tell me this is not the reason you dragged me down here?"

Mireille ground the stub of her cigarette into the silver ash-tray on the table. "You know I've skirted and even bent both law and ethics over the years. I've pushed the line until it begged for mercy." She began to roll another cigarette. "But I've stayed on the side of mostly legal. I do not much care for the shadow games people play, entirely too risky for my poor thin blood." She lit the new one and leaned back in her chair. "I was not sure how you felt about it, given your father's predilections. Never the less, I thought you should know in advance of some attempts to lure you over the line."

"I am aware that something is going on," Manuel confirmed. "My admittance into the court was far too easy for my comfort. Are you saying this underlying attempt is directly from the King himself or his subordinates?"

The Frenchwoman closed her eyes in pain. "That I cannot say. My information is not complete. The source is no longer in my employ." Her back stiffened visibly. "Some young people do not understand the concepts of friendship or loyalty. Others, even when exchanging cutting barbs, hold true. Those are the type in the most danger, especially from the direction they do not currently face."

He noted the pain and placed his hand on the table, concentrating on it. Her struggle with her pain was put at a soft ease and with great subtly and care, he made her believe that the pain had subsided on its own. It came as a surprise how much easier he had access to his powers, how he could weave them around though immediately, he felt a sudden exhaustion he hadn't felt since going to Xavier's. Apparently he was not as strong as he thought.

Incomplete information meant a great deal of things. "I will have to look into that. But for now, let us order, yes? If only because a moment ago, you looked as though you might have had to excuse yourself from the table."

Mireille patted Manny's hand. "I quite agree, you now know everything I do, we can move on to more pleasant subjects. Tell me about your sister, your love life. Why aren't you married yet?"

It did not surprise him that she knew about his sister” Did you not know? I am holding out for you," Manuel replied. "I have an affinity to the older generations, one's with particular tastes in the fine dining and who can't bother to try and keep their nose out of things they know they should not be asking about."