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Characters: Corruption and Bres
Date/Time: Morning, June 18th.
Location: Bres' work
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Language, probably
Summary: This is a new kind of business deal

A well-dressed man was making his way to Bres' office that morning. Everything about him screamed 'business' and that he wasn't a man to be denied what he wanted. A lot like Bres, actually.

"There's the man of the hour," he said, walking into the office with a smile at Bres, "I was hoping you and I could have a chat."

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Bres raised an eyebrow. "There's no one on my schedule for today. I have work that needs done," Bres replies before blatantly returning to his paperwork. "You want to talk to me then you set up an appointment like everyone else."

"Now or never, I'm afraid. Unless you like letting your brother steal the limelight, of course," the man said with a shrug.

Bres looked up at the other man for a moment. "I'm an only child, sir. Now do I have to call security?"

"Not that kind of brother, Bres."

Bres puts down his work with a sigh of irritation. "One of the puppet masters I presume."

The man chuckled.
"Something like that. Call me Cecil. So. Looks like there's a little trouble brewing over paradise."

"Paradise, Cecil? Harly. Perhaps better than most, but there are faults in everything, making Paradise something of a misnomer. However I'll bite. What precisely are you talking about?"

"Lots of angry humans, that's what. Your brother and his girlfriend found the Grail. Gotta piss somebody off. And they're vicious bastards--even you know this. So. Make a stand. Show them who's boss."

"If you're trying to appeal to my ego, save it, it's very transparent. And yes, I am aware how vicious humans are. I've been vicious as a human myself." Bres sits back. "And how do you propose we do that. Despite having a power or two, we are nowhere near the fighting shape we once were."

"How you want to do it is up to you. But you'll sink or swim as a team. All of you--and I don't just mean you, your brother, your aunt and that little court under you. All of you. Might be a good time to get back in with that little hot-to-trot lobbyist of yours. She's got a good head above that rack."

Bres' eyes narrow dangerously. "I'd appreciate it if you speak of Esther with a little more respect."

He chuckled.
"Oh? Didn't realize she meant that much to you. Sorry."

"She doesn't, I just don't like the way you talk," Bres replied plainly. "You make yourself sound like a chauvinist idiot. I expected more class from a primal force."

"Since when is anything primal classy?" 'Cecil' snorted, "Damned shame she's such a throwaway to you. I thought you were making a good start with that."

"I suppose there is some merit to that statement," Bres conceded. He retained his calm debonair, not revealing anything with his body language. "Considering the goals of the contest you yourself set up, forming attachments with your competitors seems the height of idiocy."

"Not when you have something you need to work against as a group. Besides. What better way to ferret out your opponents' weaknesses than to fight right alongside them?" 'Cecil' pointed out.

"Perhaps, but that works both ways, doesn't it? Nevertheless, your message is received, Puppetmaster."

"Oooh, I kinda like that title," 'Cecil' said with a grin, "But you're a smart guy. I bet you'd scare the others more than anything. And I still think you've got the right idea seeing that pretty little Jewish girl."

Bres didn't so much as twitch an eyebrow at that. In truth the being before him was pissing him off, but Bres had spent years developing his patience to counteract his more violent nature. "Your approval means so much," he replied dryly.

"Just call 'em like I see 'em, sport. So. You understand what needs to be done?"

"Yes," Bres answered bluntly.

"Hop to it, then, sport. No time like the present. Got to strike while things are hot, you know."

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