Northwest Dallas
Primarily a stretch of industrial and commercial properties, Northwest Dallas is filled with a few smaller manufacturing businesses surrounded by commercial outlets. This area is not without it's own charm, however. The city's second largest airport can be found here, as well as Koreatown, and the stunningly beautiful Brook Hollow Country Club which is a clean, green forested area nestled near Bachman Lake.
The weather is particularly brilliant today, just after noon and heading onwards in time with the sun overhead and giving a bright flare while slinking out from behind a partly clouded sky. It's why Chance wears a set of black-shaded sunglasses, to match the black and white of his clothes, even more so with the blinding gleam of various reflections against nearby warehouses. He's chosen a stretch of industrial buildings and with manufacturing businesses in the background his limousine has parked between two of such warehouses. He stands now against the rear flank, waiting for the other half of his meeting's equation, thinly smiling and occasionally checking the time. Here's to believing that business card's number proves fruitful.
—-
In most things, the lawyer prides herself on punctuality. And so, it's not long before the SUV pulls up. There's no attempt to hide the approach, however. Rather, the vehicle comes to rest just to the right and behind the limousine. Nor does the woman inside get out immediately. Clearly, this isn't her first time as this sort of rodeo. And she takes time to access the location, the buildings on either side, and yes, finally, the car ahead of her and the man waiting at the back. And all of this without any sign of an expression on her face. Calm, collected, professional. The silence finally breaks, as the door of her car opens, and she slides out, making even that movement seem natural. The door now blocking her from view, she takes a moment to straighten her suit, before she allows it to close, standing off to the side, her attention settling down on the man waiting. Recognized, certainly. Approached? Not yet.
—-
Chance lifts his chin to the arrival of the truck and he shifts his weight forward, pushing off of the car door behind him and placing his weight against his ornate cane. He then begins to head for the front of the car and then further along in order to commence with the meeting now that the other half of the equation has arrived. His right hand comes up and adjusts the black tie around his neck before lifting higher in order to drag his sunglasses off and pocket it, and then he settles it against his left hand on the diamond skull of his cane. He flashes the woman a brief smile but it is an amiable one. He stands there, awaiting her approach.
—-
It's not quite a mexican stand-off, but it could be. As the man assesses the woman, the woman assesses the man. But it's the man that makes the first move in this dance, and as befits any gracious partner, the woman accepts. Slow and practiced, the steps, the briefcase hanging lightly on her shoulder, as she moves into approach, neither fast nor slow, but steady. Nor does she approach close enough to be touched. To speak at a polite volume, certainly, but little more. And having foregone sunglasses herself, her eyes find his face easily enough, "Mr. Chance."
—-
With his weight shifting upon tailored clothing and polished shoes, the handicapped man glances briefly downwards at the pavement beneath him before returning his gaze towards her. This time around his brown gaze focuses on hers and his smile naturally fades. The blueprint of such a smile still lingers on his features, subdued for the time being. His voice strengthens itself in order to carry over the atmosphere around them and across the distance between the two of them. "Miss Savoy," Chance greets in turn. "I'm glad you could make it out here, and quite prompt, I cherish the thought - so to speak. I assume you're well?"
—-
Mignonette seems quite content, with the distance between the man and herself, and she settles comfortably into her place, one hand at her side, the other lightly resting on the side of her briefcase, "I was able to arrange my schedule to accommodate your request for a meeting." Soft and supple, her voice, accent used to its best effect. Her eyes move, easily enough, taking in the attire, the cane, the easy way he supports himself with one, bolsters himself with another, "I'm always well, Mr. Chance, though I don't think that you brought me all the way out here to inquire over my health." A tilt of her head, slightly, but pointed, "Did you?"
—-
"I see," he adds with a huff of a breath as a wind picks up, carrying his tie aloft for a moment. The moment lasts long enough for Chance to feel the urge to lift a hand and smooth things over before he returns to patiently standing there before her. "My manners, ah, thank you for affording time for this meeting, apologies, too, for this meeting place but I needed somewhere that was decidedly… underworld-material," he grins at that and looks away from her face and towards the SUV itself briefly. It's a passive glance. He heads straight into business now, his features stiffening with such seriousness incoming. "We need to talk about your family, Miss Savoy."
—-
Mignonette looks away, just a flick of her eyes, warehouse to warehouse to the alley beyond the two parked cars and back to the man standing across from her, "Underworld, as in the movie, or underworld as the Godfather?" Still, her tone has not changed a whit. Nor, when she hears the last, the real reason she was brought out here, does it change. If ever there was a woman who had perfected the poker face, it would be Mignonette Savoy, "What exactly did you want to discuss about my family, Mr. Chance? We are quite a large assortment of people."
—-
"Godfather," offhandedly, Chance answers. He isn't expecting vampires and werewolves to come flying out of the woodwork, so to speak, in order to spoil their private party. The man angles his attention aside while turning around and beginning to step towards the driver side of his vehicle, holding out his off-hand. His left hand soon receives a brown folder casing and he nods to the driver before turning about and heading back for the hood of the car. He sets the case there and gestures in its direction while looking toward Mignonette, answering nonverbally for now.
—-
Mignonette remains in place, as you move, as you receive the case, and she does make note of what she can of who else might be in the car, gauging general size and build based on what little she can see if nothing else. Anything else of the contents of the car is obscured by its placement and the use of tinted windows. It is a limousine after all. Once the case is set down, she steps forward, still with a hand on her briefcase, though the hand that's now free moves to flip open the case, slow, carefully, eyes glancing to you first, before she begins to look over the material inside.
—-
Chance rests his weight on the cane while standing aside, knitting his eyebrows thoughtfully after offering Mignonette a passing glance. His mind is tracing over the information within the case he has gone over numerous times. He's appropriately titled it the Cajun Angel at the forefront and within are various references to Savoy & Savoy, Mignonette, various family members of small-time lawyering fame and he clears his throat when it comes to the murder case itself. The details are all there and better yet there's the faint trail of some fashion of cover-up.
—-
Mignonette takes her time, not really seeming to care if she keeps the man waiting most of the day, if it takes that long to go over every scrap of information he's managed to put together in the file. Still, her expression is still, only her eyes moving, along with her hand, as she goes from page to page, typed to handwritten document, and back again. She does spare special attention once it gets to the murder case, but she doesn't look over at the man beside her again. Slow and steady, methodical and calculating, all of the things a good lawyer should be, before she finally closes the case file, a hand resting on it, just the fingertips, "You're an instigator then?" A shake of her head as she corrects herself. "No, not an investigator. A fixer. And I'm what…the easy mark?" It's not difficult to put two and two together, after all. It's one of the things she does best. "No wonder you knew who I was at Cameron's."
—-
Chance lifts his right hand away from the crystalline skull atop his cane and fishes out a small bottle of prescription medication from his right pocket. He deftly pops open the lid and holds it between his pinky and ring finger while dumping out a pair of small brown tablets into his palm. He caps the bottle before swallowing down the pair and then pockets the small bottle before turning his attention back to matters at hand and focusing his gaze back on Mignonette and the case files there on the hood. "It's complicated. I'm a gambler, so let's gamble," he pauses for a moment and then laughs quietly, teasing. "I can read minds, too." The man grins. "It looks like you're right so far. I'm going to gamble that you'd rather work with me on this one rather than protect your… family."
—-
Mignonette's thoughts are muffled, not completely closed off, as perhaps a telepath might be able to accomplish, given enough time and practice, but it's clear that she -has- been taught, at least somewhat, how to shield herself from intrusion. Only human, perhaps, at least from all current indications, but it would indicate she knows a little more than she's letting on. Still, it's not difficult to feel the anger in her thoughts, it's there, like a buzz around the edge of everything. "Always a useful skill, in your line of work, I expect." No surprise, at the mention of such mental ability. Finally, she does turn back to face you, a hand still on the jacket of the file, "And what makes you so certain that you're going to win that gamble, Mr. Chance?"
—-
"I was kidding… though," Chance lifts his eyebrows towards her, but then again this woman is all sorts of business first, pleasure later; so, Chance quiets down and doesn't push joking around any further. He stands there and watches her. He slowly shakes his head and then lifts a hand in order to rub over his jaw thoughtfully. "I've gone over a couple of estimates and calculations, factoring in a thing or two, and it's all led me back to you and this point here. You're the only independent variable, the rest depends on a gamble that I have faith in." He explains, smiling reassuringly, enough of one that reveals a pearlescent flash of teeth, and then he quiets down for a second. "Anyway," he adds, "I know you would hate to see a distraught mother after covering this up. You wouldn't be asking that question if you didn't think I'd win."
—-
"Somehow, I don't get the impression from you that you put much stock in wasting time with jokes, Mr. Chance. Not so much as you like to coax people to believe." She finally picks up the file, flicking open the snap on her briefcase, attempting to slide the file inside, unless you prevent her, "So, you're intent on finding some sort of…retribution for this woman. Money, perhaps, or the defamation of the character of my family's firm. Perhaps you even think you have the knowledge and skill to bring down a firm that has survived longer than most and worse than you. And somewhere, in all of this, you've decided that the key to all of your plans is me. And that for no better reason than you think what happened to this woman was wrong, that I'm going to just forget about my family and help you? And then…what? You ride out of town in your white stead and leave me to pick up the pieces of what's left of my life and my career, if there's any of that even left, when you go?" She's still standing, still as casual as ever, "Do not think for a moment, Mr. Chance, that I would ever do anything that was not done with the express purpose of protecting my family and their interests." Though, as a point of fact, the lawyer who handled this particular case, one Michael Harlan, is not a member of the family.
—-
"That's your interpretation of things, Miss Savoy, which is something I cannot control," he counters in reply, with regards to whether or not he truly is joking. Coaxing someone and manipulating a personality one way or another aside, he lifts his cane up just so he can clasp his hands together once while looking to the papers being shelved away and out of his current reach. He taps the ground once and returns to resting. "I'm intent on righting wrongs. In this case, it closely involves your family. I can buy a white horse if you'd like," he grins, briefly, "But, I had not planned on something so extravagant. I'll have to look into it. Then again, you may say you'd do anything, but your profile says otherwise. Go on and protect corruption, I'm sure you wear it nicely." Chance turns around in order to begin walking away, looking to the driver by way of signaling. The car starts up.
—-
"Two things I've discovered about you, during this meeting, Mr. Chance. First, that you really are not as apt a negotiator as you'd like to believe that you are, or you would not be in the process of walking away from me, rather than continuing this…discussion and making some sort of offer to have me help you be worth my while." Since, well, if he's done his homework on the Savoy's, which it seems he has, it would be more than apparent that they don't take kindly to loose ends. Mignonette, for her part, has not moved from where you've decided to leave her. But, for her own part, she doesn't see fit to follow after him, "And second, that if you think, that for a moment, I would allow myself to be party to corruption in even the slightest facet, then you really did not research me as well as you thought you had before you called me for this meeting. So you can walk away now, and lose whatever chance you might have with me, or you can do what you came here to do."
—-
"Miss Savoy, do you know what people do to heroes who fight corruption and tackle the corporate beast, and all that lovely jazz? I once heard they praise them, forever. I've given you information and ways to contact me. That's all that's necessary right now." Chance comes to stand halfway down the car's length and he lifts his right arm in order to lean against it and face Mignonette. He won't comment on either of their petty insults any longer. "What makes me so certain that I'll win this gamble and can easily walk away for the time being? It's simple, that you're like me. You won't allow yourself to be party to corruption in even the slightest facet. There's your proof, in your briefcase, up to you on what you plan to do with it."
—-
"And you're in it for the praise?" Mignonette steps back, now, from the car, if only so that she's not standing in the way of the driver, when he decides to pull away from the meeting place. The file has been neatly secure into her briefcase, and she has that neatly back under her arm, as she watches you move towards your door, "You know, you really should have bought me dinner first," is her final answer. The beginning goes unsaid, 'before you tried to screw me.' "I would have worn a great dress." But as the man seems to have deemed this meeting over, Mignonette turns back towards her SUV, carrying, not only information implicating her family, but because of its source, implicating the man at the limousine. And that's an interesting thing.
—-
Chance gives a slow shake of his head in response to the praise. It's just another reason why, out of many reasons he could produce, when it comes to committing to this job. He leaves it at that and to her next few words he presses his lips into a tell-tale smirk, nodding once. "You have my number. It can be arranged." He then turns to head for his door and he pulls it back in order to slide into the vehicle and disappear for the time being. The man looks aside, speaking up offhandedly while bringing the door back closed. "Note to self," states Chance, "Do not gamble unless it involves money, and chips."