Dallas Public Library

Despite the fact that it's way past Mischa's normal hours, he's at the library tonight anyhow, having been asked to work a little late for a co-worker who wanted to go to a baby shower. Rather than seem put off by having to cover a shift, Mischa seems a little amped up. It could have something to do with the cappucino behind the desk. Currently the shifter stands behind the main desk, taking books from the return drop and putting them onto carts so that he can properly sort and shelf them later. There aren't many people around this time of night — mostly a few college kids who need to get books at the last minute. The library is all but dead silent.
Faith has submitted a new event: Two-Natured Meeting

A lot about the evening is dead silent, which makes night time a little eerie. The library is the easiest place to track down the twin-souled who is owed compensation by the new King of Texas. Trying to look every bit the part of her age, so as to blend in at the moment, Isobel has on softer makeup and is carrying a backpack over her shoulder. There is no way possible that she'll be able to get the slang down, but with her hair up in a banana clip she looks every part the eighteen-year-old she appears to be. Rather than hang out with the other college kids, she walks right up to the counter and smiles at the man. Not at all her usual self, and seeming to be downright chipper.

When a pretty blonde girl who looks half his age comes up, Mischa smiles at her amiably enough. It's not a particularly charming smile — just the one he wears for all of his patrons in general. He finishes putting a few books about philosophy on one of the near-full carts before he turns to face the young woman completely. "How are you this evening? Is there anything I can help you with?" Mischa asks, in his usual friendly tone. It's not hard to fool the poor librarian normally, but considering Isobel's youthful appearance, it's not really much of a contest.

Acting time. Isobel smiles cheerfully at the man, "So like, I'm looking for this guy right? He's supposed to know all these myths about these like, twin-souled and werewolf lore, 'cuz I'm doing a class project…" This is not going to work for her. The demeanor suddenly changes, an icy eye settling upon his face. The vampiress goes completely still, her body rigid, back ramrod straight as she asks, "Mischa Alexandrov?"

There's a long pause from Mischa as he registers Isobel's words. The normally hot-blooded man's blood turns, well… cold. Very, very quickly. The hair stands up on the back of his neck and all along his arms, goosebumps pricking up. He has to look away for a moment while he catches his breath as if having been suckerpunched in the gut. Eventually he turns back to Isobel and puts on a very forced, not so friendly smile. "You've found him, for better or worse. What is it I can help you with?"

The voice, coming out a little more neutrally and very much less valley-girl, simply says, "Not here. Conference room, perhaps?" Isobel doesn't bother to wait for a reply. Her body twists stiffly, and she begins to stalk toward the nearest unused conference room in which to have a discussion.

Perhaps somewhat ironically, Mischa puts the 'out to lunch' sign up at the desk. He watches as Isobel walks into the conference room, following after her rather quickly. He shuts the door once they're both inside and folds his arms over his chest, adapting a much more strong, confident stance than he normally takes. "What's this all about, Miss?"

Perching on the edge of the table, Isobel slowly crosses her right leg over her left. Hands settle atop her knee, but other than that, she's completely unmoving. "Taller than I thought," she muses idly. "Symon. Isobel Symon." Doubtful it will get a reaction from the shifter, but she doesn't care. "You are the twin-souled that helped the red-head in the warehouse."

It takes Mischa a few moments to really formulate a good response to this. He looks the woman up and down for a moment in a non-lecherous way before he slowly nods. "That's right, Miss Symon. What is it that I can do for you? Since you've come out of your way to find me and all… and since you know about the warehouse…" Mischa maintains his confident posture, although inside, he's quaking. He figures that no one who knows about the warehouse incident that wasn't there can be good news.

Icy blues snap to his face, a moment of pause as she contemplates glamouring him into silence. Instead, Isobel dismounts her perch, walking toward him with slow, concise movements. Until she winds up behind him. A chilly finger drifts over the back of his shoulders, around them until she stops in front of him. Up close and personal. "Your confidence is very good, Mr. Alexandrov, though I wonder how terrified you really are? Rest assured if I had wanted you dead, I would hardly have presented myself to you in your place of business. If I wished you dead, you would already be so."

That singular cold digit only serves to make Mischa's goosebumps a little worse. He clears his throat and looks at the woman as she comes back to face him, trying to keep his expression as neutral as it possibly can be when he's staring in the face of someone who has just explained that if she wanted him dead, he would already be. Something which he isn't taking lightly at all right now. "Thank you for your reassurance, Miss Symon. And I don't mean to be discourteous, but… I don't want to play a game of cat and mouse so to speak. Please tell me why you're here?"

A rich laugh rings out in the small conference room. "Too bad. I do so like to play a good game," she offers dryly. Isobel walks back toward the table, perches upon it once more. "I wish to hear an account of what happened, and how you came to be there aiding the Sheriff of Dallas. What prompted it, what part did you play in it."

Mischa gives Isobel something of a pleading look. He pulls a chair out for her and motions for her to sit down — ever the gentleman, even when opposition isn't exactly congenial. "The redhead, as you so refer to her, asked me for my help. In short, I used my abilities to aid Mister Grant. I mauled and I think… effectively killed a few vampires. There were four altogether. I can't say how many died by my hands, or teeth, as it is… but." He gives a faint shrug of his shoulders before looking back to Isobel. "This is between you and I, and the parties involved, right? You don't strike me as a particularly dull woman. I think you know how much trouble I could get into discussing these things."

The only response that he will receive at first is a curt nod of her head. Isobel simply watches him carefully. "How did you come by the location?" The vampiress does not move, nor does she sit. She simply remains perched, icy eyes shifting to his face once more when he moves to seat himself. "How much blood did you ingest?"

Isobel isn't going to sit, and thus Mischa pushes the chair back in. He grips the top of the chair and leans against it, watching Isobel like a hawk. "I drove there, as per Chloe's instructions. I had to play getaway driver in the end there." When she asks about the blood, Mischa furrows his brows. It's perhaps the first real dent in his poker face. "I'm not sure. It's hard to say. Enough to have made me sick almost immediately afterwards."

"All of this was done to aid a man you do not know? How… altruistic of you, Mr. Alexandrov." Isobel watches him silently, almost eerily with her gaze. For a long while, she remains silent. Then, an attempt is made to lock onto his eyes. The weave of a glamour apparent in both look and voice as she asks, "What were your true reasons for helping Mr. Grant?" The glamour is held until an answer is received, and while she could hold it longer to obtain additional information she is not truly here to grill him.

Mischa starts to open his mouth to respond to her before the glamour overtakes him. His mind resists for a long moment before he gives in to her. "I did it because Chloe is my friend and she asked for my help. I didn't know much about Mister Grant up until later… for the most part Chloe kept referring to Mister Grant as 'him', and nothing else. She didn't explain until later…" That's as much of an answer as Isobel gets, Mischa's own blue eyes locked onto hers.

As little as an answer as it is, it can easily be surmised what the situation really was. Isobel smirks, then releases the glamour fully. "Perhaps not so altruistic after all, Mr. Alexandrov." Her backpack is removed, a zippered pouch slowly drawn open. "However, you /did/ risk your life to save the Sheriff of Dallas. Odd for one of the twin-souled to do. Thus, it has been decreed that you shall be compensated for your troubles."

When the man is released from the glamour, he looks mildly confused. Eventually he reaches up to adjust his glasses, giving the vampire a strange look. "Compensation? I… is there any point in arguing?" To the comment about his being twin-souled, he merely gives something of a smile. "No matter what species you are, loyalty is loyalty. If Chloe was so invested in this man, he must have been someone important to her. So I did what I had to. It is really that simple."

"You /care/ for her. Oh, that is /delicious/." Isobel laughs again, but there is something chillier about it this time. "How /perfect/." Her delicate fingers reach into the zippered pouch, coming back up with a an envelope. Icy eyes never leave his face as she opens the envelope and withdraws a cheque. "To argue over the compensation will merely mean that you are given a tidy sum directly into your back account, Mr. Alexandrov."

If two want to play at that game, so be it. Mischa curls his fingers around Isobel's very softly as he takes the check, smiling at Isobel. "We have worked together for quite a few years, Miss Symon. It's only natural, I should think. Let's avoid any direct transactions, hmm? Any more direct than this… well, I just don't know what you would call that."

"Only natural that you should come to have /feelings/ for a co-worker? I do not believe so, Mr. Alexandrov, though have it your way." Isobel is still overly amused by it, and will be sure to bring it up eventually. "By the way, /I/ am grateful to you for rescuing Mr. Grant. Atop this compensation, should you ever require a favor from the Sheriff of Dallas, I will grant it." There she pauses. "At my discretion."

"No offense, but I hope I never do require a favor from him. But thank you. I'll keep that in mind." Mischa still hasn't looked at the check yet. It just wouldn't be polite. A man's finances are his and his alone, although Isobel surely knows how much it's made out for. He folds it half, keeping it in the palm of his hand. "You're welcome, Miss Symon. I'm glad to know that what I did wasn't in vain. And thank you for… this. Send Mister Grant my regards. He recovered well then, I take it?" Mischa suddenly remembers the need for all the TruBlood he had to buy beforehand and the way he broke quite a few bottles too.

"From /her/," Isobel says pointedly, knowing full well that he's unaware of the powerful woman who is enjoying toying with him. "Mr. Grant is well and I will definitely give him your regards." Hopping off of the table once again, she makes her way to the door. That silly girlish smile plastered to her face. Best the humans don't realize that she was ever here, and so she'll force herself to blend until she's out of eyesight. "I do hope you enjoy the money, Mr. Alexandrov. Try not to spend it all in one place."

Mischa glances towards Isobel and simply smiles, although his good humor is wearing thin tonight. He clears his throat and nods to her. "Thank you again. Goodnight, Miss Symon. Until we meet again." The tone he says that last bit in does little to hide the fact that he hopes there won't be an 'again'.

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