Night has fallen upon the city, covering it with an inky darkness. Bright lights shine like beacons from the office buildings of the downtown core. While it would be very easy for the Sheriff to rush past security, and make her way up to the desired office, she will play nice. A white business suit is what she wears, hair drawn back into a chignon. A matching white briefcase is held at her side as she makes her presence known to the guard, who calls upstairs to the receptionist.
In turn, the receptionist presses a button on the intercom system. "Mr. Fontane, there is a Ms. Symon to see you."
—
Ivan barely looks up from his paperwork, sitting behind his desk that is practically littered with loose forms and invoices and the like. The office is small but neat, lacking any personal artifacts and giving the area a distinctly professional air. For his part, Ivan looks a bit different then usual as well. Although he is as well dressed and dapper as usual, the wire rim glasses that sit upon the bridge of his nose project an air of studious consideration and modesty that is not exactly familiar to the lad.
"Send her in, Celine. Thank you very much."
—
There are a few moments where the receptionist calls down to security, to give the woman clearance. Isobel waits extremely patiently, so much so that the guards are unnerved by it. Which just causes her to grin.
Upon reaching the office, she breezes in with the briefcase. "Your message in regards to Mr. Eberle has been received. If he continues to trouble you, feel free to send him to me and he will be dealt with." A slow smirk appears on her face, the briefcase opening, in case the busybody receptionist reports this after-hours visit.
—
Ivan is in the process of shuffling a pile of contracts and easing them in alphabetical order by the time Isobel storms into his place of business. Once again, he doesn't acknowledge her presence right away. In fact, he waits until he's finished with stapling the orderly collection before shooting her a mild look. Behind those uncharacteristic glasses, Ivan looks, surprisingly so, quite intelligent.
"Ah, Miss Symon. It's a pleasure as always." And just like that, his wry smile has returned, and with a flick of the wrist, he moves to remove the eye-wear and slip back into the character that everyone know and loves. Young. Smarmy. Impulsive. "How are you this evening? And, that's good news to hear."
—
It may be good news to hear, up until the point where Ivan actually /hears/ what will be done if Isobel finds herself displeased. "Those glasses make you look like an accountant," she points out with dry grin. "Very unflattering." Still standing, Isobel reaches into the briefcase. "I have had some paperwork drawn up on the VVEMT, which I have copied for your Mayor. Proof as to who was behind the attacks, statements in regards to why his Unity Parade was targeted. Information that he will need to cover his bottom with should there be an inquest. This is for your eyes, and for the inquest only. Use it /only/ if absolutely necessary." The large white envelope that she extracts is placed carefully upon his desk.
—
Ivan quirks his brows in a slow, measured step. It is only then that the man proceeds to spread his lips a broad, if rather lazy, grin. "There's nothing inherently wrong with looking like an accountant - especially not in my case. I think it gives me class, don't you? Let's them know that there's more behind these angelic locks then meets the eyes." Once all his posturing and drawling has been completed, he slides the envelop on his desk closer towards him, giving it a once over before nodding silently. "Why, thank you. It's very considerate of you." He offers, slipping the important documents into a cabinet of his desk. "It will only be accessed if absolutely necessary, I assure you. And…well. I do find myself curious. How have you been coping with your newfound authority?"
—
"They do not suit you," Isobel says quite sternly. She is not to be argued with on this point. "They make it look as though you are trying to hard. For instance." Her hand snaps out in a swift blur to take hold of the eyewear, and slip them on her on face. Not at all suited for her, considering they were made for a male, but the point will still get across quite clearly. "Not much has changed, except that now should an issue arise, I will be there to exact punishment or bring the instigator before the King." Ergo, she feels merely a figurehead. "How have you been coping with the death of Mr. Nishimura?"
—
"Who're you to say what suits me or not? It's not as though you see me often," Ivan counters with a lop-sided grin, green eyes sparkling with bemusement. "Trying too hard to what? To read? Because…that's the entire point, there." Ahem. When she steals the the glasses and slips them on in a blur of movement, the man can only lean back in his chair in surprise. She is then inspected. "Not too shabby, I have to say. You look…well, playboy librarian-esq. How have…" The mention of Hiro prompts the lad to sober immediately, his jaw set in that stubborn way. "Ah…well. That is a closed chapter in our…in my life, thank you."
—
"You would be better suited to those contact lenses." Isobel adjusts the glasses, peering through the lenses in an almost curious fashion. "I have never met a vampire with poor eyesight," she points out. "I have never needed spectacles either, and I find that they hide your face." She doesn't remove them, just watches his reaction. "Have you told her what has been done?"
—
Ivan allows the idle chatter to fall to the side with a wry smile, uninterested in hearing her hate upon his poor reading glasses any longer. Instead, he jumps into the meat of the matter. "I have." He is speaking in complete, utter monotone at this point. "She was not exactly pleased."
—
With the fun drawn out of the conversation, the eye wear is removed gently and carefully. The arms folded inward, and the glasses placed upon the desk. "Pity. I would have thought she would be thrilled at the prospect that her attacker was no longer in a position to hurt her." Isobel sends him an icy look then, designed to send a shiver down his spine. "Next time you feel the need to kill one in my area, though, please try to inform me. I understand the necessity of this instance, and will forgive you for it. However, I should like to know who is still among us in the city, and who is not."
—
"She was." Ivan announces, cool and collect. The way he is watching Isobel, however, is rather calculating and solemn. "What she disliked," he begins, his words drawn out in a dramatic fashion, "is the fact that I was in cahoots with your kind at all, in the acquiring of justice. She seems to be under the impression that, if necessary, you'll pervert Mr. Nishimura's death and us it as a tool against me. Now, I assured her that wouldn't be the case…"
There is a reason Isobel is being told all this. So that Isobel, and by extension Will, can be made aware of the fact that he is already anticipating such betrayal, and has taken counter-measures against them. "You will forgive me for it? Considering I did, in fact, appeal to you first before acting, I don't see what there is to forgive. However, I understand."
—
"Politics, little dinner. You have formally been forgiven, and should be unharmed by any others. Should anyone approach you about Mr. Nishimura, you can now kindly tell them that his demise was by my approval and should they take issue with it, they can seek me out." To Isobel, it is as simple as that. "You could not have obtained justice any other way, as I was quite content to allow the perpetrator to remain locked in the silver coffin for eternity." Harsher than the Magister would have been, but it was a grievous crime. "Did you receive the gift that I had delivered to your office?"
—
Ivan nods in her direction, pausing to lift his hand through his hair in a gesture of slight unease. unease that he had kept expertly hidden until this moment. She is offered a faint smile, as well as a quirked brow. "Ah, yes. I did, indeed. Needless to say, I was a bit…surprised at the contents of the parcel. The smaller gift is being stored and will be put to good use." This, he ensures her, unwilling to mention the fact that he has V outloud in his workplace. "And the painting…well, I've never received anything quite like it. Was it your doing?"
—
Isobel nods curtly, no smile offered. Her face is a sheet of neutrality as she watches him. "Tit for tat," she replies. "The more it ages, the higher the chance of it not working as expected. Should the situation be dire, contact me and I will see that more is provided." Her voice drops to a mere shadow of a whisper. "I have heard that it is supposed to heighten one's libido." Allowing her eyes to fall just beyond the edge of the desk, before returning to his face, she smirks. "Ahh, the painting. I had nearly forgotten I had sent that. While not the best of my work, it should be worth a tidy sum should you ever need to sell it."
—
The mention of libido prompts Ivan to hike his brows upwards with arched amusement. "You don't say…you know, you vampires could likely open a very lucrative business. Selling a bit of V as a Viagra of sorts to those who have…difficulty with being intimate. Now, I've never had such a problem, but I suppose experimenting every once in a while couldn't hurt." Well. So much for not mentioning the vampire blood in his office. At least he hasn't admitted to being in possession of it, though. "It was you, then? In that case, might I inquire as to why, exactly, you sent me the gift? It was extremely gracious and thoughtful of you. And I admit that I'm quite…curious as to what prompted such kindness."
—
"There are some," Isobel says, quite disgusted with the thought of it, "who do. Who do you think informed lucrative drug dealers about the properties of vampire blood in the first place?" The vampiress has not yet let on that Ivan may be in possession of an illegal substance either. "You might inquire, but you may not have a response." Some things she likes to keep to herself. "Let it simply be said that I am fond of you, little warlock."
—
Ivan cants his head in her direction, eyes furrowed slightly in thought. "Why don't you? Were I one of your kind, I would." It's an honest, fearless sort of statement. But in the end, her admission bothers Ivan considerably more. He watches her, brows furrowed as his lips purse tightly. Suddenly, the look in his eyes speaks of rampant wariness, overt suspicion, and…something slightly fearful. "Why." He's like a four year old, with how he always comes back to this question. "What do you want from me?"
It's telling, the way his mild automatically jumps to the conclusion that he must be being manipulated and used. It explains so much about him, his usual interactions with people, as well as his past. He is an abused animal, biting at all hands that approach him just because someone dropped him as a baby, PET STORE.
—
"Because it is despicable, and it is illegal." Isobel watches him, her neutral expression twitching only in the slightest. "Our blood should be given freely to those we trust, and those whom we care for. We should not become the new toad to lick." The briefcase is slowly closed. Her eyes remain upon him, and at his question, her lips draw up into a smirk. "I have not yet decided, beyond the fact that at some point in the future I believe you would make a very excellent vampire politician." There may be more to that, but she's not sharing. "You may relax. I have had your blood, and while I hunger for more I am not about to devour you."
—
And with responses like that, it's no wonder Ivan is always on edge. Especially around the likes of Isobel. He stares at her quite openly, without caring for the convention known as tact, just searching for an answer as if hoping that it would magically appear on her forehead. But, slowly, the realization that she is a book that he cannot read dawns upon him. And with a frown, he sinks into the material of his chair. "I see." Pause. "Was that all the business we have to discuss?"
—
"You think you do, but you do not." Isobel smiles at him briefly. Just a flash of humanity. "I have always been up front with you, little dinner, though there are some things you are not ready to hear just yet." Her head dips into a slight nod. "That is all. For this evening. I have an engagement I must attend. Please keep me posted in regards to the situation with Mr. Eberle. You have my permission to subdue him should it be necessary, but please do not kill him." A request, not an order. With that being said, she turns to leave. "Give my regards to Miss Tyler."
—
Ivan offers Isobel the faintest of nods, uncomfortably stiff in his seat. "I hope," he begins, lips pursed, "that you truly have been, Isobel. But with your kind it's rather difficult for me to tell. Is it any wonder that…" Beat. Sigh. "Good evening, Miss Symon. I will give her my regards. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night."
