Journalistic Integrity

Ivan removes his cellular, flipping it open to answer the call.
<Phone> You hear a click as the line is established.
<Phone> Josephine, at the silence, ventures, "Mr. Fontane?""
(Directed into the phone) Ivan says "Maaaaaybe. Heh, I forgot I gave you my cell phone. This is…Josephine, right?"
<Phone> Josephine chuckles dryly, "Actually, you've got quite a memory… Josephine van den Bosch, yes. Am I calling at a good time."
(Directed into the phone) Ivan says "At as good a time as I'll ever have, I suppose. What is it you want, van den Bosch? I'm assuming this isn't a casual call?"
<Phone> Josephine rolls her eyes and some of the sentiment slips into her alto, "Mno. I did mention I'd call you about an interview the other day and I'd like to get together to talk a few things through. Preliminary I think it's called. I gathered from MacKeirnan that it's the 'American way'."
(Directed into the phone) Ivan says "Ah, I don't…" Silence. Shuffling. "You know what? Alright. I've got some time now for a quick get together, if you do? It wont be able to last exceptionally long, I'm afraid, as I have some…personal things to tend to. But this sounds like a good idea."
<Phone> Josephine chuckles again, "Excellent. Briefly means lesser restrictions in my experience, so… Where would suit you."
(Directed into the phone) Ivan says "I…Mhmm. Well, we could meet up at that pizza place once again. You know, for old time's sake and all."
<Phone> Josephine is briefly at a loss for words. Briefly. "Bizar that you remember that. But I can do with dessert. Meet you there in, say, 10 minutes?"
(Directed into the phone) Ivan says "See you there then."
Ivan clicks his cellular to disconnect the call and hangs up.

Una Bella Pizza Parlor

Una Bella is a very large, open and sparkling place. Corrugated metal decorates the walls, the rounded edges jutting out about an inch or so to make it look as though one is standing inside a large package of boxed food. The floor is likewise made up of metal tiles, furthering the atmosphere. A few small chrome tables are set about the pizzeria with a tall counter and stools lining the walls.
A large counter spans the length of one wall, behind the glass one can find a variety of different luncheon meats, as well as vegetables, salads and hot foods for easy boxed lunches. A large pizza oven and a grill can also be found here, to create pizzas and grilled sandwiches.
A full menu is listed on a sign above the counter.

Ivan has captured a booth for himself and even taken the liberty to order himself a slice to kill time with. His phone, small, expensive, lies there upon the wood of the counter, and his eyes are fixed upon it, ready to pounce if it so much as hints at vibrating. Otherwise, Ivan looks much like anyone else - even if he is rather too professionally dressed for the occasion. Looking rather dapper, it's rather amusing to watch the young professional scarf down his pizza.

When Josephine enters, she spots her company after some help of a waitress and weaves her way over, sliding onto the seat opposite him. "Hi. Thanks for making a bit of time for me, I know you're a busy man and all." With a nod to the phone. "You know, if this is inconvenient…"

"Mhmm?" Ivan looks upwards, peering to the woman curiously before finally putting his pizza back down onto the paper plate. A napkin is grabbed, blotted at his mouth, only so he can grin to the woman. "Oh, that's nothing. I'm just…well, there's the slightest chance I'll have to run off to take care of something, but it probably wont happen. I'm sorry - I'm just kind of paranoid now." His thoughts swirl around without focus, and the words 'Faith', 'attack', 'werewolf', and 'safe' are whirling around - up until he recognizes this fact and he consciously drives his thoughts over towards the pizza. "So…it's no problem at all, meeting up with you. How've you been?"

"Meeting up with me, yeah," Jo nods vaguely, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer before she directs them to the counter to find that waitress she just forgot to order tiramisu with. A quick wiggle of fingers hopefully settles that. "I'm good, really. Healthy, in one piece and in possession of a pay check, so…" When she grins, that green gaze returns to him. "Hope everything's alright." Just one person reaching out for another, "Nothing wrong with Rose, right."

"I hope so too," Ivan agrees with the faintest nod of his head. However, when she poses her inquiry, he pauses, lips pursing as he considers exactly how to approach this. Whether he should play the ignorant card, or… "Alright." He begins, a little bit sober with his tone lowering to a more intimate volume. "I know you can read my mind. And I know you can't help it. But…I'm just telling you now. There are some things that, if you came across, would put you at a liability, so I wouldn't go digging in here…for your own safety." It's not a threat - but the simple truth. "Also? Rose is fine…now. Perhaps. Anyway - lets get on this, why don't we?"

At his statement, more than a little bit of colour leaves Jo's face and she sits back sharply, tightly answering, "Excuse me?!" Even the waitress picks up on the rise in tension, offering nothing but the menu to the woman before she makes herself useful elsewhere, quickly.

Ivan doesn't bother to move. He doesn't bother to react to her surprise or self-righteous tension, he merely sits there with his jaw clenched in thought. Once the waitress has left, his green eyes traveling after he to make sure she had not heard anything important, he proceeds. "You know what I said."

"Who told you," Josephine demands to know in that same, strangled voice right before her browse rise in unpleasant surprise. "Rose." She doesn't wait for his reaction, "I'm gonna kill her."

"There are some things," Ivan begins, his tone of voice becoming decidedly chilling and dangerous, "that you do not even begin to joke about. That just so happens to be one of them. Now, I'm going to give you the benefit of a doubt and assume you ushered that death threat in a joking spirit. Anyway, let me set the record straight. You are not going to do a goddamn thing to her. In fact, you're going to apologize to me for planning to invade the privacy of my mind - for that'd be the only reason you'd be reacting so violently to this news."

Josephine narrows her eyes, if anything looking far from amused. "If not her, who else could've told you," she answers coldly. "If you know that much, you'll know I'd not physically harm her, but she shouldn't have broken her promise." And in the same breath she decides the offense is the best defense, sitting forward, telling him in the quietest voice she can muster, "If I ever find out you ever told anyone else…"

Ivan snorts, arching a brow to Josephine then. "You'll what?" He inquires calmly, leaning back in his chair. "Please, finish that sentence. I'm dying to know what you will do to me. Put down the defensive, Van den Bosch. She means you no harm, I mean you no harm. And she did right to tell me. I am involved in things that would inevitably lead to badness, were you unwittedly exposed to it. We're trying to protect you. And frankly, I have no interest in your abilities, beyond whether they are or are not used on me."

"Trust me, I'm trying my damndest to stay out of that f-" Deep breath in, "brain of yours." Breathe out. "But I'll promise you this, just so we're clear, I'll finish that sentence the moment I find out you blabbered. Until then…" She shrugs, "I'll give you the same trust I'm giving your girl." She tilts her head, listening in? Isn't that what people do when they tilt their heads, listening… Prying, searching. "That said… I know you're somehow involved in vampire politics and I'm guessing that would involve one William Grant? And I know that's not the most clever thing you've ever done. But that's not why I'm here or why I asked you here."

Ivan takes a bite out of his slice to really hammer down how nonchalant he's taking the situation. And perhaps to try and disarm her risen hackles with his calm. "In an effort to diffuse the situation," he grumbles afterwards, voice powered with authority, "I think we should return to exactly why you are here. Everything else has been said. No need to stay up at arms - if you don't hurt me, I wont hurt you."

"Hmpf." It obviously takes her more effort than it did him and still highly irritated, she searches for her cigarettes, then for the lighter. "This is goin' to be fun…" she snorts, and continues a bit more audible, "I'm already so looking forward t-" No, that simply isn't the way to go about it, she decides as she shakes her head sternly and continues strained, but more mildly, "I want to schedule at least one interview with you and McNaab, maybe even the same deal I did with MacKeirnan. AVL. I followed him around for three weeks, front and backstage for an indepth portrait. That article is half on it's way to being published in the US version of Time."

Ivan lets out a sigh allowing his eyes to shut if only for the moment before sliding them open once again. The packet of cigarettes is eyed curiously, but he ends up resisting the temptation. "Relax, Van den Bosch. For all our sakes, please. There's no need to remain on the defensive. Also - that sounds fair and good. However…I don't know if we'll be able to okay the 'following around' portion. As you undoubtedly know, I live a rather… Hectic life, in between politics and even with my personal life."

"Maybe you'd rather have me following McNaab around for a few?" The question is posed casually, the woman shaking out a cigarette and lighting it, since he isn't effectively eating. The green eyes don't leave him for a moment, just as her mind keeps reaching out, save in the knowledge he isn't a psychic himself and *fingers crossed* won't have a clue. "If not, what about a series of interviews. It's my intention to give the readers your vision, how the city's officials are dealing with the revelation and all it's consequences. I'm not sure one interview would suffice, are you?"

"It's illegal to smoke inside of restaurants," Ivan points out automatically, in deadpan. If she's looking to his mind to find something? Well, she wont find anything easily at her disposal. Knowing that anything he thinks can and may be used against him has prepared himself, and so the only thing she'll be able to hear are the lyrics of London Calling. "I'd rather you not, thank you. Or, rather… I suppose I could approach the Mayor and see if he'd like to be followed around. I'll ask him on your behalf? If he's not up for it, though - a series of interviews sounds brilliant."

"Irritante Amerikanen…" With a dirty face, she kills the thing by tearing off a piece of his pizza and pressing the burning edge to it. It smells aweful. "Yeah yeah." Sigh. Her fingers drum idly on the table, right in tune with his singing. "But… You'd rather not I do… What. Interview you, or McNaab? I'm cool with either scenario, whatever will end me with the best story. Of course, I'm assuming you wouldn't mind having your name, picture, everything printed in the world's leading magazine…?" Her voice is nothing if not alluring in the end, smooth and caressing, inviting. He should know what he wants.

Josephine's audacity prompts Ivan to wrinkle his nose with distaste and just stare at her, trying to bite down the irritation growing within him. "Rather you not follow anyone around, I meant. But it's not my place to say anything, I suppose. I'm not in charge, McNaab is." Ahem. "Mhmm? Well…I don't know why you'd want me in the world's leading magazine. I'm just one of McNaab's lackeys, really, trying to serve my city the best I can. But, I'm not consenting to anything explicitly yet. Due to my exposure with the media already - I'm sure you can understand my hesitance?"

"It's why we're having this conversation and not an interview," the reporter tells him, unable to hide a little smile seeing some of his irritation. Maybe it's a small measure of justice to her. She sits back, stuffing the lighter into the pack of cigarettes which in turn disappears inside her jacket. "Like I said, I'm fine either way. But since you didn't deny it, and I think Grant doesn't lower himself to deal with a mere lackey…" Jo grins. She might be bluffing her ass off, or maybe she's just a little more psychic than he was let to believe.

Ivan shrugs his shoulders idly, not confirming nor denying anything. Actually, truth be told, he looks rather ignorant of the repercussions of the discussion they're having. "McNaab trusts my judgement when it comes to people, usually. Not always though, I'm afraid I have to admit. My life would be a lot easier if he did. Anyway - due to the state of my personal life, I refuse to consent to you publishing anything about me personally unless I get to see the article beforehand. I've got to do what I can to protect Rose."

The last at least gives Josephine a little pause and more serious she shares, "It's not my habit to… I'm not some sewer journalist, Fontane, or paparazzi or what have you. I have no problem to let you see it, it's your own words I'm putting in your mouth, no-one else's." She sucks in her bottom lip for a moment, then asks, "You're sure she's okay."

"That's all I need, then. You'll have what you need for your articles. I promise you that." Ivan confirms, nodding his head. It is then that his phone begins to vibrate. Automatically, he jumps to his feet, frowning intensely at said phone. "I need to go. Now. I-…" Pause. "She's… She'll be okay. She's a soldier. She's never entirely fine - never. Her life has been quite… Difficult." Ahem. "Contact me." And, he's off!

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