log: warren and tabitha
Oct. 11th, 2010 08:33 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Aware that the Hellfire Club is for the rich and powerful, Tabitha goes to the most accessible rich person she knows to do some research. Backdated.
It was during a group training session that Tabitha realized that Warren might be able to help her.
The Hellfire Club had been stuck firmly in her brain, entrenching itself deeper with every passing day. She knew it couldn't be healthy, but she was sure she couldn't move on until she'd figured it out.
She caught him as they were all leaving the training session. "Hey, Warren. I know you're busy, but do you have a few minutes?"
Warren's mind had skipped away from training now that it was done, thinking about the work he had to get back to. He was a little surprised to be drawn out of it - mostly because it was Tabitha.
"Sure," he said with a friendly smile, dragging his mind back to the moment. "What can I do for you?"
She looked around, trying to make sure every body was out of ear shot. "I'm probably about to be very crass, but I ask for your patience. It's.... something I need to find out." She blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. "You're loaded right?"
"It's alright," he replied reassuringly, doing his best to keep his amusement out of his voice. "And yes, I am. At least my father is, so it's more or less the same thing."
Her blush intensified, and only jumbled memories and the scar on her throat kept her going. Her hand touched the base of her throat at the thought. "So, you know a lot of other rich types? Powerful types?"
"I do." His amusement faded, his gaze focusing on her a little more closely, noting the hand at her throat. "Is everything okay, Tabitha?"
"I sort of heard of this group once. Kind of the "in" club for the ones who are or want to be rich and powerful," she rushed through the words, afraid she'd lose her courage. "Have you ever heard of something like that?" She wanted to bite her tongue. That was maybe too vague.
"They're around," Warren said, looking serious. "Some of them are more legitimate than others. I think my father's a member of one, but I tend to tune whenever he starts talking about things like that." There were certain trappings of being wealthy that Warren enjoyed, but playing backroom power games was definitely not something he was interested in. "Is there something - or someone - in particular you're trying to ask about?"
She didn't realize that she had yet to move her hand away from her scar. "The guy who took me in after my dad kicked me out, he was real interested in them. One in particular. Said some things about kings and colors." She shook her head. "I really need to find him, and this is my best lead, poor as it may be." Nevermind just why she wanted to find Telford Porter.
Warren's professional curiousity was starting to kick in, but he did it best to rein it. Tabitha wasn't a client he needed to tease information out of, as much as he was tempted to.
"Nothing really rings a bell, but if you had a name, I could ask around a bit?" His contacts in New York weren't as good as the ones he had in California, but they weren't too bad.
She shook her head. "He was a bit tight-lipped. Never mentioned more than "the black king" and that he might be interested in the skin trade."
Warren frowned at the thought. "It doesn't really ring a bell, but I'll see if I can find anything out for you." He looked at her a little more closely. "You just be careful." Because it didn't sound like the sort of thing that would be safe to be poking around.
Tabitha's smile may have better served a man in the electric chair. "Don't worry, Warren. Everything will be fine."