“I see, I see,” Crowley gave a couple of quick nods.
“It's good to see that you landed here on your feet,” he added.
“...what with the shop and all. Did you inherit it from your family?”
At this question, he had to suppress a grin.
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“I see, I see,” Crowley gave a couple of quick nods.
“It's good to see that you landed here on your feet,” he added.
“...what with the shop and all. Did you inherit it from your family?”
At this question, he had to suppress a grin.
"My dear old aunt left it to me ..."
:: the phone rang and she awnsered it ::
A knowing smile curved into Crowley's lips. While Fiona took the phone call, he looked again around the room. Everything seemed to be in soft shades and nothing caught his eye. Slightly disappointed, he began to twist one of his silver rings back and forth, whilst idly wondering who his newest acquaintance was speaking with. He glanced up, still turning the unusual sigil of the ring over and over.
“Nothing troubling, I hope?”
:: She sat down again after hanging up the phone, her eyes falling upon the ring as she awnsered ::
"No. My friend is having a late recital."
“Your friend... ah.”
The twisting of the ring stopped. The idea of an immortal being having friends was an unusual one. Keeping company amongst those who could not live forever must have been troubling and upsetting...but that's the price you pay.
“Do they know? About what you are, that is.”
:: She set her glass down and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed ::
"Ok, here's the part where you tell me exactly what you know."
:: Her gaze seemed to penetrate the comfort of the sunglasses, even though she couldn't see through them ::
“What I know about what, exactly?”
Once more mimicking Fiona, Crowley leant forwards and let his chin rest upon steepled fingertips, adding as an afterthought:
“We could be here quite some time.”
:: She nodded at the open window ::
"Not really."
Both eyebrows raised, Crowley sat back slightly and paused for a long moment.
“Fiona Devlin, born a Briton of county Cumbria. Suffered death at the hands of the Roman Empire, only to be reborn as an immortal. In her long life she is known to have fraternised many of histories great figures, from martyrs such as Joan of Arc and William Wallace to revered rulers such as Kublai Khan and King Arthur. Though not a Knight of Arthur's court, she was later dubbed as such by the that of the Seelie. In recent centuries she has become known as a prominent antiques dealer and collector, and within the last decade has even taken the bold move of opening her own blues cafe in Chicago... shall I continue?”
"No, that's enough."
:: She leaned back in the chair, a slight blush to her cheeks ::
Seeing the flush in Fiona's cheeks, Crowley offered what was intended as comforting smile.
“Please, don't feel embarrassed, but you have quite the reputation in certain circles. One can't walk the earth for over a millennium and expect their exploits to go unnoticed.”
:: She glanced at the ring on his hand again, trying to place the sigil in her mind ::
"I've not seen one of your kind in a very long time."
There was a wink behind the glasses.
“But we've seen you.”
Crowley smiled knowingly, noticing then that the immortal seemed to have some preoccupation with his hands. In particular the hand that carried a rather large silver ring. He held it up, so that the ring was plainly visible.
“Do you recognise this?”
:: She gazed at it a moment longer ::
"Yes. How did you acquire it?"
“It was a rather fortunate find,” Crowley said, admiring the trinket, once more turning it on his finger. “Unearthed by a construction company landscaping in eastern Scotland and passed onto to a lowly jumble sale. The locals didn't recognise the marking... after all, why should they? Even many modern Gangrel would overlook a relic of the Lhiannan without realizing it's true origin and significance. How quickly history fades into nothing when we do not pay it due attention.”
"Very true." she replied, relaxing a bit.
“But that's why I'm here, why my kind are here. To make sure that things don't go unnoticed. You never know when some little factoid might be invaluable. Everything has it's part to play in the grand scheme of things... Gaia moves in mysterious ways,” Crowley replied, tapping twice on the side of his nose.
:: She studied him a moment ::
"How would you like to work here, Mr. Crowley?"
“I should like that very much, Miss Devlin. However I do not think that I would be well-suited to the job – unless you could overlook my prolonged absences. It is my blood to travel, to search all across America – and the world – for information that may be of use to Gaia's cause.”
It was true. As much as Crowley would have relished the chance to spend his time with Fiona and her antiquities, she was only one of many people that he had to – needed to – speak with. Gaia had created Raven as her scout, and instilled in him a kind of wanderlust that kept him moving always, constantly in search of new secrets to undercover.
“I couldn't possibly confine myself to one city for too long. If nothing else, I think it might drive me mad!”
"I understand Gaia's cause well enough, Mr. Crowley. There are those in this city who do not."