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The smile Sidonie beams Disillusion freezes as soon as Mr. "Tilsworth" opens the door, and stays there, rather awkwardly. Her smile then widens, as if she is remembering herself, and she fixes its dazzlingly (she hopes) on the man. "Good evening," she starts to say. Her eyes flick quickly past the dapper man to the contents of the room and the rooms leading beyond, then back. "We're having a great deal of trouble falling asleep with the sound of the leak coming from upstairs. It appears to be coming from your rooms. The concierge was not very helpful at this hour, so we were hoping to give it a look. Do you mind?"
True to the plan proposed, Disillusion does stand off to the side with his trusty umbrella there in hand. No gentleman should be caught without one! As the appraising glance is leveled upon him, Disi purses his lips and offers up an apologetic smile with a shrug. "I do apologize for this, good sir. Perhaps we might be a burden for just a moment, if only to put this all to bed?" He has a tired look about him and the look he gives after is one pleading, from one gentleman to another, to do this small favor so that he might escape the hell this woman has no doubt been putting him through. "Now, be quick about it, dear. This kind fellow is sure to want to get back to sleep just as much as *I* do." A glance is given to the interior and he exclaims, "Would you see the *size* of this suite! I say, if you bought less dresses *we* would be able to afford such a room!"
Mr. Tilsworth stands there paying them the polite attention they are due as his downstairs neighbours. Though his manner is proper, it is as incongruous to the picture of a man woken up at three in the morning by strange knockings, as Sid and Disi's cover story is to the reality of their being fully dressed, hats and parasols/umbrellas and all. He doesn't react to their expectations of examining his water closet except to delve into his linen jacket and withdraw a shapely smoking pipe, which he holds casually while considering a reply.
A female voice calls from one of the rooms, "Who is it, Chet Dear?"
"..Plumbers, darling," says Chet. "Or is it one plumber, and one..." He glances over Disillusion once more. "..Beleaguered spouse." Hah!
"Oh? Are you quite certain they have the correct door, Turtledove?"
Chet clamps the pipe between his front teeth and says out the side, "Quite. They are one floor down and think there is a leak, Pigeon." In the midst of the banter, he keeps his eyes on Disi and Sid, while pulling up a matchbook-looking device with his freed hand. "You've brought your own pipe wrench, I assume?" he inquires, even though he has clearly not seen any such thing about their persons. "I suppose you had better step in before old Mr. Marzapan storms out of bed, hadn't you?" And he steps back and aside, keeping the door open with his smartly-shod foot.
"No pipe wrench, I'm afraid," Sidonie says, giving Disillusion a withering glance. "My dearest does not believe the leak is coming from this apartment." She gives Chet an apologetic look. "I do apologize for the late hour, Mr. Tilsworth... I am relieved to see you are both awake! Thank you." And with that, she steps inside the mysterious Tourist Suite.
"There is no request my Little Angel might make and no hour too late that I would not indulge her every desire." Relief! As the good Mister Tilsworth steps out of the way, Disillution noticeably relaxes and delivers a very thankful expression his way. One husband to another. Surely this fellow knows the unending burden! The jars to be opened! Bugs to be removed! High up things to be reached for! "No wrench on hand at the moment, but should this actually be the source, then I can certainly fetch my tools from downstairs. No need to fetch a mere maintenance man when a full-fledged engineer can do so much more!" He looks to Sidonie and nods in agreement, "Yes, many apologies once again. Are you and your wife wine drinkers? Perhaps I could have a bottle sent up to make up for this dreadful business?" Staying hot on the doctor's heels, he follows her on inside, keeping his head on a swivel as if he were scoping out this much better room!
Chet gazes inquiringly at Sidonie as she speaks the name he signed upon the hotel register, as was transcribed to the concierge's ledger. Well, naturally that is how she learned it, from the careless loose lips of Mr. Vanilla, night manager. His eyes slide to watch Disillusion next as he too accepts the invitation to enter. He shuffles the door closed quietly before anyone lingering in the corridor can make an approach. Really, two unexpected callers is enough for one night! "You have me at a disadvantage, it would seem," he claims, one hand hovering at pipe-level with what one assumes is a quaint custom fire-making trinket. "Indeed, I am Chester Tilsworth, though we are not previously acquainted, are we."
Only the one light remains lit in this principal room, and one small source within the first bedroom, which through the open door displays a vague, enlarged shadow on the wallpaper, moving quickly about. The great room is an open rectangular space demarcated into specific functions by application of area rugs and furnishings. A round dining table for the eating space, for example, and so on for the small office, sitting, and foyer. A regular selection of personal articles can be made out in the dimness to meet the expectations of a suite occupied for a day or so.
"Lhasa Chantris," Sidonie says with an easy smile. "Pleased to meet you." She walks the rest of the way into the principal room of the suite, and her eyes go directly to the quickly-moving shadow in the bedroom. "The leak seems to be coming from that direction... right?" She gestures to the bedroom. "Do you have an en suite? That might be it..." A few steps in that direction and she stops, looks back to "Chester Tilsworth". "May I?"
"Do we? Oh! Yes, of course!" Disillusion gestures toward Lhasa as she introduces herself and then his heels click together as he dips his head in a quick bow. "Disillusion Valentino!" A finger is snapped, a card is produced, and it is offered up to the fellow to take: Disillusion Valentino - Engineer Extraordinaire! Looking back to Lhasa, he rolls his eyes, "Oh, for goodness sake. Let's not labor about slowly taking the bandage off. Let us be quick about this so this lovely couple can get back to sleeping the night away. And perhaps we will as well." Clearly frustrated with the time this entire process has involved, from the nagging at the start of it all, Disi charges on forward to begin a proper inspection!
Down at the table, Maggie tries to remain calm while their friends, associates and potential additions, are up doing goodness knows what to find answers. Answers to questions! But, she has a question that might be answered right now. Maybe. Turning her attention to Merrisol, she reaches across to take his hand. Leaning toward him, eyes finding his, she speaks softly in what absolutely must be a romantic murmur, "Darling..." Then even more softly, "What is a Tourist?"
The lift rattles and rumbles, and eventually discharges a Shiona. She's been to her room, or she's left her waistcoat somewhere random in the hotel. No carpet bag either, possibly just begging someone to go through it. Sleep appears to be not a thing for any of them this evening, no matter the fact that it's the middle of the night, and she comes nearer to where Merrisol and Maggie are settled, unwilling to inturrupt what clearly looks like A Moment.
"I don't think that will be necessary," says Chet's Darling and Pigeon, as said shadows haze away when she breezes out of the indicated bedroom. She is a smart-dressed woman done up all very prim and pert, and also brunette, though where Sidonie is tan and freckled, she is of a lightly powdered by rosy complexion. She has in hand an elaborate metal haircomb decorated with shinies and a spikey sprig of holly, as she steps before the snoopy couple with alert anticipation of their movements, though Disillusion's more forward behavior garners a sharper, "Hello!" A friendly greeting and warning both.
"Babs," says her own Turtledove, pivoting in their direction unhurriedly. "Clearly this is getting out of hand, and needlessly *emotional*." The device in his hand is triggered... and a small rod flicks out, puffing a modest flame into his pipe. The bowl glows a warm orange pit as he works the airflow through the stem. "Barbara Tilsworth, my dear spouse.. Lady Lhasa of Chantris and Mr. Disillusion Valentine are eager to make our acquaintance," he puffs, securing and stowing the flame-making device away. He lowers the pipe after, and gestures to the lone lit dining table with his hat still in hand. "Now. Please won't you sit." His tone is very civil and very chill. Very WhoDoYouThinkYouAreMessingWith.
Sidonie pushes the charade as far as she can go, stepping sideways from Darling Pigeon as she emerges from the bedroom, and tilting her head over to see if she can catch sight of any hidden Rubies. "Oh come now. One peek to see if we find what we're looking for, and we can be on our way, no?" Her eyes flick to the spiky haircomb, then to Chet once she hears the chill in his voice. She endeavors to keep her face pleasant, but there's a tense tilt to her shoulders now.
Merrisol keeps focusing on and off the trump card of Ruby every thirty seconds or so, perhaps thinking he might catch the forgemistress off guard finally, or that incessant pinging will drive her batty enough to finally answer. Maggie's touch however earns his slow-refocusing attention on the here and now, and a quicker smile. Which fades again when he hears the question. "Oh. Beg pardon, Only, it was never explicitly stated.. although I suppose you gathered something by the way the term is spoken?" He glances at the signs of movement from the lobby, and nods to Shiona as she lingers back, a gesture to signal it's fine for her to approach. He prepares to rise once she arrives, but keeps his voice pitched to suit the hush of the dining room. "No one who has never gotten on the wrong end of Begma's politics or her political relationship with Amber, is likely to be acquainted with these persons. And even then it's never completely crystal, what they signify.. except that like as not, someone disappears.. goes away.. and there is no recourse. What they do is, perhaps not above the law.. but..." He squeezes Maggie's held hand, releases it, then steps away, leaving his chair pushed out for Shiona if she hasn't already sat. "I think I'll seek out young Paprika again. I think his past brush with Tourism might yet help us locate Ruby, if she really is in some trouble."
By chance, Disillusion had a bad brush with a haircomb once. No pun intended. When the wrong name came out in the heat of the moment one evening... Well, needless to say that the Begman playboy takes a few steps back as Barbara makes her appearance wielding one. Blue eyes dip to it for a moment as his eyebrows raise. "Oh, I assure you that this isn't nearly as emotional as things can get! Why, you should see us when my Little Angel is whispering sweet nothings to her Beloved." Disi chances a glance back to Sidonie on that last statement, smiling at her then. A few more steps puts his back to a wall and he begins to ponder the escape routes and what might be required to use them all. "You'd like us to stay? Oh my. Tell me, Mrs. Tilsworth, do you know how to make an Old Fashioned?"
Maggie inhales slowly as the Tourists are explained. She looks up at her husband, a faint horror dawning in her eyes. "Oh for the love of..." Of? She watches him calmly draw away and she lifts a finger, "Be careful, Darling. Please." It is not an admonishing finger, but a cautionary one. Though goodness knows what it might look like to someone else. Her advances spurned? Maybe. Turning, she looks at Shiona, then motions for her to have a seat. A faint hiss is sent after Merrisol, "I'll keep trying." Poor man, indeed. Some women just won't give up. But instead of following him, she reaches a gloved hand into her pouch and, after a brief shuffle, draws out Captain INcarnate's trump card. "Oh, for goodness sake." Not... something she would have wanted to be mixed up in. "I have a very bad feeling about this."
Shiona offers Maggie and Merrisol a vaguely apologetic smile as she steps closer to take over Merri's chair. She blinks as she overhears the topic of their conversation. "Ah.. is that what we think is going on?" She hunhs softly, tucking the chair in at the table. "No word from your friend yet?"
You paged Sidonie with 'As far as Sid can make out, the source of the shadow and movement was Babs, and nothing else stirs in the bedroom. She can see the outlines of wardrobe and bed, placed with instruments and small open suitcases.'.
"Not as neatly as yourself, I would suspect, Mr. Valentino," replies Mrs. Tilsworth, remaining where she is after he has backed off, still guarding Sidonie from actually entering through the bedroom doorway. Whatever's in there is for Tilsworth Eyes Only, it would appear.
Mr. Tilsworth asserts cheerfully, "If you will only be agreeable for five minutes... Lady Lhasa... you will both be happily on your way. As it would happen, our concerns at this moment lay elsewhere." Unless they /insist/, his slight grin relays that quietly.
Sidonie turns her head away from the bedroom door, either losing interest in it or not seeing what she was looking for. She flashes Disi an embarrassed, even a little shocked look at the mention of whispering sweet nothings! The cheek! And... what does he know about certain... oh, of course he doesn't know. Right. Looking like she'd like to give Disillusion a piece of her mind, Sidonie's lips move ever so slightly, but no sound issues forth. Not at first, anyway. She stands rooted on the spot, and her gaze shifts from Babs to Chetty McChesterton. "All things are possible, given enough incentive, Mr. Tilsworth. I just need to ascertain that you are not in possession of a friend of mine."
Directly to Merrisol, Maggie, Shiona and, should the winds allow, to Ruby, a whisper is sent: "Lord Valentino and I appear to be at a standoff in room 302 with the Tourists. It's getting a bit hairy, and I don't think they're going to let us leave. Would you mind.... coming up maybe? And Ruby, if you're up here, make a sound or something please. Thank you.
In a terrible effort at modesty, Disillusion holds up a hand and graciously accepts the compliment paid. "Well, we all have our strengths, Mrs. Tilsworth. Perhaps just a whiskey, then?" The Begman playboy sets to taking slow and deliberate steps over toward Lhasa, nodding apologetically to her at these clear angry signals she is sending his way. Carefully, he places a hand on her shoulder and begins stepping behind her and guiding her in the general direction of the table, by way of the walls, of course. "If you would be so kind, of course. I'm afraid she is quite set on this."
Merrisol lingers a moment, just to respond to Maggie's statements, meeting her eyes and nodding. Then he's off across the dining room floor, skirting tables and moving for the entrance to the kitchens. He doesn't get much further than the front lines of the kitchen when his ear catches Sidonie's whispering and he skids to a halt, somehow having no trouble hearing her message despite the steamy clunking of various heating and plumbing systems around him. "Lir's Gears," he mumbles, orienting himself for the dining room again to take the guest stairs rather than potentially wait on the lift in the lobby.
Mr. Tilsworth heaves a little sigh when Disillusion steers Sidonie toward the table, the light there casting their features more starkly. Gazing shrewdly at the expressions they wear, he nods once and says, "Not a bad idea. There is whiskey to be had, isn't there, Babs? Bourbon might have to do." Whichever, he himself steps closer to the table so he can face the visitors when they do place their bums in those chairs. "Yes well... there's a queer pickle to do with that, I'm afraid. This... Ruby, she is called. The friend of whom you speak?" He asks, though in the rhetorical vein, and takes a deeper breath. "She is a Person of Interest regarding serious acts of criminality in Begma from two years hence, including perpetration of dark arts calling the old sorceries, long dead though they should be. Not only this, but a more current conviction of offence against one of the Unbreakable Laws... pending investigation." He pauses to see how this news hits and is absorbed.
Maggie hears something untoward on the slight breeze blowing from somewhere. She blinks, putting the trump of Ruby away. Rising, she motions to Shiona and heads for the staircase, one hand lifting her skirts a bit so the fabric will not hinder her movements. Her expression wavers between 'what have they gotten themselves into now' and 'please let them be okay!' The latter wins the day before she reaches the bottom stair. Following Merrisol, she hurries up,, up and away.
Sidonie, a bit disgruntled, takes a seat as she is bid. Her brown eyes squint just a bit from behind her brass spectacles as she first regards Disillusion quietly, then Mr Tilsworth. She doesn't look exactly surprised by these accusations. She's unfazed, even! They know about Rear Admiral Incarnate, right? Didn't Ruby shoot a storm cannon at the Arden forest? Does she not fly a magic carpet? She's a force of nature. Heretical Magic is the least of their concerns. With a mild expression, "A misunderstanding, I'm sure."
As any gentleman should, Disillusion helps Lady Lhasa with her seat before sliding into one of his own. "Bourbon would do just fine." Now, here at the table, Disi looks between Mister Tilsworth and the former opera singer, narrowing his eyes as these allegations come out in the open. A finger is raised and then tapped repeatedly on the tabletop before disappearing back below. "First, I want it said that I knew absolutely nothing about any of this. Why, as a fellow wholly devoted to Science I find all of the Old Ways as thoroughly repugnant! Second, I only met this woman once and have absolutely no association with her." The finger comes back up in a swipe before his face. Now, as all of this is going on, there are some changes going on with his umbrella with a button having been pressed and a trigger now appearing there about the handle.
-------------------------------------------------------------------[ FRP ]----
Author: Disillusion Held By: Disillusion
Date: Tue Jun 12 17:08:08 2018 Focus: 3
Title: B.O.O.M. Stick!
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Created via Begman Craftsman (BEG-CR): power-token special token-3 token-6 type-magic
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Secondary gift used: Begman Artificer (BEG-AR): power-token rechargeable special token-0 token-3 token-6
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Secondary gift used: Cross-Shadow Science (CSA-SC): token-0
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Token Description
Behold, the B.R.O.L.L.Y.'s bigger brother: the Bigger Oxygen-injected Object Mover! When a gentleman must absolutely, positively make an impression quickly, accept no substitutes! At first glance, it appears to be no more than a finely crafted umbrella that any gentleman might carry about town. Well, except it may be a bit fatter than the usual umbrella... Lovingly polished wood, with a fine patina, is the material of choice for the shaft and handle alike with lines of brass running running just a few inches up the shaft and under where the material would conceal it when closed. There are two buttons on the bit of the shaft that is exposed when the material is closed.
Press the appropriate button and then the fun begins, revealing a most capable shotgun! The trigger drops down from the shaft, the cap of the tip swings up to reveal a rather wide opening in the end, the cap turns to form a crude iron sight, and finally the handle pops back a good four inches to allow for pump-action reloading! This action of the pump will both recharge the gases and chamber the next round from the handle! Four immodest rounds are contained within the curved handle, though manual loading between pumps is also possible!
As one might expect, such a fine piece of machinery must be carefully maintained between uses! One should hate to see it simply explode in the user's hands!
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Mr. Tilsworth regards Sidonie's blase' reaction with a flat expression of his own, only his suggests that she just confirmed Ruby's involvement. As Disillusion makes a great show of 'coming clean', Chet eyes him briefly, his waving finger anyway, and puffs on his pipe for a moment more, beginning to pace slowly before the table. "Whatever the case, we have now discovered that since her criminal activities of two years previous, the lady has made quite the favorable impression in our noble allied kingdom of Amber. Rear Admiral of the Royal Navy. As well as Lady Commander of the Pathfinders Corps." Luckily for them, the Princess thing hasn't happened yet. THE PRINCESS THING HASN'T HAPPENED YET! "So. You do comprehend the sensitive nature of this situation, Lady Lhasa. Mr. Valentino. And, I believe, we can be of great use to one another. We can reach satisfactory terms, we four." Boy, is he going to be surprised when the Dread Pirate Merrisol busts down that door in a few seconds...
Mrs. Tilsworth is at the dining room side table, examining the liquor bottles on that cabinet for the corn-based drink this particular region turns out. She's frowning to herself, clearly in some disagreement with her spouse for something. Perhaps his trying to come to some arrangement. Perhaps his dropping the first pretenses at all... But, it can't be helped, then or now. She absently tucks the metal comb in her hair while she assembles some squat glass tumblers.
Sidonie squints at Disillusion with just a little bit of scowl. Oh how the romance quickly fades, how fickle! When she turns her gaze back to Chester, her face is calm, if a bit thoughtful. "I'd like to see her," she says, doggedly. This fellow is trying to strike a bargain with nothing to offer! And there's no denying Sid's involvement as an associate of Ruby's, it's not like it's a secret. She's damn proud of it, in fact!
Disillusion is a bit taken aback by all of these accomplishments from the woman he had clearly thought was just the help to the Lord and Lady Morfilod! It's always the quiet ones... Several key words snap the Begman playboy out of his contemplation of this misjudgment and he focuses again on Mister Tilsworth. "Ah, so you wish to negotiate some manner of agreement between our parties? Well, what sort of terms did you have in mind, Mister Tilsworth?" Looking to the Lady Lhasa, he nods in agreement, "Quite right. An agreement would be quite impossible without seeing her, of course." The handle of the umbrella is sloooowly pulled up and a different manner of ammunition is ever so carefully added beneath the table.
Again Sidonie's lips move, but no sound seems to issue forth, as if she were mumbling to herself or had a bad habit of sounding out words as she reads. It's more of the creepy whispers! Intended for Merri and Maggie, only for their ears: "Stand by please. Don't come in. We might be able to resolve this without making enemies of these Tourist folks."
Merrisol can take stairs like three at a time when he's really hustling, but when Maggie is chasing behind, it's extra incentive! Must not slow her down! He whips the hairpin turns holding on the rail and bounds to the third floor landing, shouldering through the door into the hallway, where he takes in the layout of fewer doors... Although he doesn't have to sort the even and odd numbers since there is a Templeton right there! "Are they in peril?" he whisper-demands outright, striding up. "Doc wants us in th-..." And then the carpet runner almost bunches up comically as he stops dead in his tracks. "No. We.. wait.." He sets a hand to the wall and leans there while his adrenaline backwashes in protest!
The merchant deftly slung to the side as Disi and Sid put on their couple routine (polyamory might put some strain on their skillful facade). The thumping up the stairs alerts him to someone coming up, thugh his shoulders relax as Merrisol clambors into view. He makes an instructional motion that asks the sailor to take a breath. "No sounds of a struggle, gunshots, defenistrations." I'm sure the Tourists must be fine counterspies, but not fine enough to take our compatriot down without a sound. I'm not sure of your new ally, of course." His voice is low, in the range of a whisper himself. "I'll give a bit of a knock, see whats up. If you hear me use the word 'daft', we barge in, no heistation, full measure. Otherwise, we go about our business. Resonate?"
If Mr. Tilsworth has a problem with one of Disi's hands not being above the table, he makes no mention. He seems distracted with wording his negotiations just-so. His sharp eyes still flick between Sidonie and Disillusion, then he nods and states calmly, "I think you'll have little trouble seeing your friend, as I know where she would be found, and my wish is quite a simple one. All that I require is your pledge, that once you are satisfied that she has come to no lasting inconvenience... You, Lady Lhasa, and you, Mr. Valentino, shall do your utmost to impress upon the Lady Commander, the vital importance of maintaining the wholly amiable and mutually beneficial relationship between this great nation, and hers. In short, we shall all agree, that this never happened."
Well, that is... that's not too bad, is it? Sidonie's brows furrow just slightly as she listens to Mr. Tilsworth's request. She gives it some thought, looking down at a spot on the carpet, then back up at the Tourist. "The Captain is a very reasonable sort. If she is unhurt and otherwise not inconvenienced, as you say, I am sure we can express to her the importance of her maintaining warm and amiable feelings toward Begma." Sid looks pensive, concerned. "This is contingent on the condition we find her in. If she has been harmed, it might make convincing her difficult."
Disillusion looks to Sidonie as Mister Tilsworth finally shows his hand. Rather carefully, his umbrella is compressed back into a more normal form and the tip flips closed to safely cover the other end of the barrel. A rather pleased smile unfolds and he now looks to Mrs. Tilsworth for those bourbons to be distributed. "Oh how wonderful that we might resolve all of this. I wonder, this mission of ours, does this make us Deputies? It feels as if we have just been Deputized for a most important mission." Blue eyes dance back and forth between the other three and he has a rather hopeful look about him. He can see the new calling cards already!
Standing without support once more, Merrisol frowns and tilts his head forward as much to listen to the door himself as to hear Mercier's instructions. The 'woh-woh' sound of voices coming from within might very well be Lord Bayle making a sales pitch, albeit a rather sedate one. Despite the merchant's tendency towards crazy moon lingo, he nods to Mercier's plan, and so he and Maggie fade back several steps to tuck into the same recess the others had found earlier.
Mrs. Tilsworth's frown fades to less than fifty-percent disapproval when it seems that the sticky situation can be resolved without multiple regrettable disappearances.. their own possibly included in that equation! She places empty glasses on the hammered metal tray and brings it over with the bottle of whisky bourbon, just in time to miss spotting the extendo-capabilities of that umbrella. She pointedly uncaps the bottle before them all before adding a few splashes to each tumbler. "There is an innate call to duty in every gold-hearted Begman," she says to Disi with an arch glance. "*I* wonder if your particular talents would lend themselves to the work we must do." Oh god... is that actual Tourist Flirting or just more fodder for wild imaginations?
Mercier gives a nod as Merrisol and Maggie slinks back. He then takes a deep breath, removing his hat to vigerously uncoif his hair. He adjusts his traveling coat to give the sign of some disarray, and then slips in front of the door, knukcles raising to rap on the wood politely, but firmly, as he takes on a cherrfully fatigued countenance.
Mr. Tilsworth draws in a fresh long breath and offers a faint smile as Sidonie's earnest response is is in-favor. He does blink a couple of times over the claim that Ruby has any 'warm and amiable' feels for Begma to begin with, but it isn't a point he thinks wise to quibble over, right now. Taking her caveat into consideration, however, he itemizes, "Nominal restraints, which will be nothing to remove. A compliance measure was required to stop her accessing the occult... a trifle of mental distraction which she will no doubt shake off," he nods assuredly! There's a glance from Disillusion to his partner, then back, but he manages to clear his throat and hold his tongue there.
The rap at the door comes then, and the atmosphere in the room drops by about thirty degrees. The Tilsworths exchange a glance, and fade back from the light of the table, Chet toward the writing commode, and Barbara toward the hall door this time.
Sidonie would not refuse a glass of nice bourbon on a regular day, but now isn't the time to relax! Instead, she regards Mr. Tilsworth steadily for a long moment, as if taking a measure of the man, then nods. "Right, then. In that case, we'll be collecting the Captain and heading on our way," she says, with a note of finality, and pushes herself up to stand... just as the knock on the door comes. She stops then, hands resting on the arms of the chair, and she glances at both Tilworths as they take position to receive their impromptu guest. The look on her face is, to put it mildly, peeved. She said to stand by!
"You know, my Pappy used to say the very same thing and I think they certainly would. There is no problem too large for Science to overcome!" Disillusion looks to Barbara and smiles again, nodding in reply as a hand snatches up one of the glasses. In passing, he clinks it against her own and then raises it up, "To the Republic!" Of course, the wind is taken out of his sails as there is a knock at the door and the Tilsworths change modes from negotiations to handling this new entry. First, he looks to Lady Lhasa to deliver a sly wink, then his attention goes to the door to see just who might be on the other side.
Babs Tilsworth smudges her eye makeup a bit out of order with her thumb, and her prim and posture-perfect appearance alters to a relaxed poise just before she pulls the door open a third of the way and looks out at Mercier, bourbon glass in hand. Decidedly not dressed for bed, she smiles the bemused smile of a socialite just having friends over for a little late-late-night soiree. She looks him up and down, honestly without recognition. "...Yes?"
Chet Tilsworth's position by the writing desk keeps him out of the sightline afforded by the open door. Rather than focus on the interaction by the door, he keeps one eye on Sidonie and Disillusion still sat there at the table, and his hand is on the side drawer. And yet, he waits for this to play out.
The merchant's head glances up, directing a tired, nearly disinterested gaze towards the woman who answers, before letting a sliver of annoyance pass through his features, and out with a sigh, "The secretary." He mumbles, trying to affix a fatigued smile, "That old fool. My train just arrived, and I'd prefer to get this business over with. Could you please tell Mister Stillman I've arrived?" His eyes subtly travel towards the crack in the door, checking what he can see beyond (trussed up Sidonies chief among the things he's checking for).
Sidonie rises the rest of the way, and upon hearing Mercier's familiar voice, steps forward so that she is visible, hale and whole and un-trussed up, from his vantage point at the door. Making a show of having it look like she's just taking a peed at who is at the door, of course. Then her lips move again soundlessly for Mercier's ears only, "We're fine. We just negotiated Ruby's release. Get out of there please so we can finish up."
Barbara takes a sip from her cup, leaving red lipstick prints on the rim, and stares. "I do beg your pardon," she replies coolly, making a lengthier study of the cranky rumpled businessman. "There is no Mr. Stillman here. I believe the night manager must be terribly incompetent to misdirect you, at this late hour. What if I and my friends should be asleep?" she scolds, with a cross look back to said 'friends', before turning it back on Mercier. "I wish you. Good. NIGHT. Sir."
Mercier furrows his brow, returning her cool displeasure with a frazzled upset, even as his eyes catch Sidonie approaching into visual range to peer back. The fact that he can hear her is somewhat surprising, but that surprise is used well in reaction to Barbara's refusal, "The bellman said room 227, and thats where-" He cuts himself off, as if memories of the recent past hit him, as he turns towards the door next to them, then peering back into the stairwell. He takes a moment, exhale in embarrasment, "And this is the third floor." He shakes his head, "Perhaps I should wait until the morning." He mumbles to himself, before nodding to the woman, "Please accept my apologies, madame. It seems the error was my own. I'll speak with the bellman about sending up a bottle of wine, with my regrets." He sweeps his hat off his head, "Do have a good night." With that, he stalks away, back down towards the stairwell, grumbling to himself.
Maggie is, currently, nestled into the alcove with Merrisol. She occasionally peers past him to watch the doings, or lack thereof, but mostly tries not to just... fly off the handle and barge in there, flames a-blazing. To the rescue! But this is Begma and she can't very well do that, now can she? Manners. Decorum. So, trying to remain calm. Trying to remain silent. Envisioning all manner of awful things being done to Sidonie and Lord Bayle... she frets.
