[IC] Masques and Daggers (Derren Krenshaw & Igraine)

[Derren Krenshaw]

Takahiro woke up sometime later, comfortably positioned upon the seat where Galina had left him.

It was a... conflicted feeling.

His first act was one of confirmation, rising to his feet and quickly scanning the room for the false wall his contact had mentioned. It was found easily enough, the safe behind opened easily enough, and then closed and concealed soon after, as it was seen the contents had already been taken. Of course they had, but who would he be if he didn't check, at least?

There was nothing else of use in the room either, and no information that might point to anything else within the estate. Complete failure, all objectives left unmet. Nothing left to do then but damage control.

Takahiro slipped down to the second floor a minute after watching a servant saunter past the stairs, moving slowly -if gracefully- down to the main floor sometime later. All smiles and gallantry, he worked his way back into the crowd, trading pleasantries with knowns and greeting unknowns, the perfect picture of a samurai within western culture. He asked only what was polite, spoke only with respect and flattery, and left those he spoke with charmed and smiling until it was finally time to leave. And those few who had seen him with a young lady before, who had an inkling of who it was? Well, no one noticed if their conversation happened to last slightly longer than the rest, or cover almost improper subjects...

He moved out with the crowd, falling towards the back on account of his limp. Thanks were given to the Winchesters as he left for their splendid party, and received in turn for his given gift. It was a late night when his coach pulled up for him once more, full moon hanging high above, just visible past the lights still glowing all around. But the man who opened the door to admit Takahiro into his ride showed not a hint of the time. Slender and cleanshaven down to a seemingly-polished crown, his smile was wide and voice eager as he greeted his lord.

"Konbanwa, Takahiro-san."

"Goemon." Takahiro nodded slightly to the man, seating himself within the coach as Goemon moved to sit opposite. They set off at a leisurely pace, enjoying the night around them, moving steadily away from the Winchester lights and leaving crowds.

[["A good night, boss?"]]Goemon broke the silence tentatively, as all other sounds died away. [["Were you successful?"]]

[["No."]] Takahiro's shaking head started a look of growing shock upon his underling's face, though he remained silent for the moment. [["Someone beat me there- a Russian."]]

[["Russian!? They're after- and they got the documents?"]]

Before him, Goemon stuttered with too-wide eyes, the unthinkable having occurred before him. Takahiro Souma, son of Takahiro Masaru, who had convinced the nobles to elevate him to the Samurai class and embark on a journey to the Americas, was admitting defeat.

And was doing so, while smiling.

[["They did,"]] Takahiro's voice dropped low, then, vowels rolling across his tongue in savory tones as his smile only grew. [["But it's okay. Because we're going to use them to kidnap an engineer for us to deport."]]

[["Kidnap a- how?"]]

Takahiro allowed himself a moment to remember all that had happened that night. The fortuitous meeting of a lovely young lady, their wonderful conversations despite their apparent lack of fluency, and their travels throughout the Winchester mansion. He recalled her grace, her laughter, the look as she eyed the paintings and architecture they passed by... and her voice, as she read him into a drugged sleep, lying cushioned upon her lap.

Something gleamed within his eyes as the moment ended, something that caused Goemon to shrink back against the side of the coach.

[["We're going to find a Baronessa Galina Demidova."]]

[Igraine]

Just as she had promised herself, Galina never did tell her Papa what, exactly, troubled her thoughts. Well in truth, she could not have truly articulated this thing herself, the strange melancholy that had stolen her peace since San Jose. A wolf caged by bars of her own making, Galina had paced restlessly through the her suite of rooms, alternately dozing well into the greater part of the day or chasing sleep that eluded her into the wee darkest hours of the night for weeks on end. There was no solace to be found on her knees in prayers in the family chapel; or endless hours horseback, galloping through the primeval forests of western Russia.

Baron Demidov worried. Yet no amount of worry, no amount of cajoling or wheedling, teasing or indulging would so much as see Galina admitting a thing in her world was amiss. And so when the next call to duty came, there was precious little he could do but exactly as he must, and send the Night Wolf to hunt their quarry.

Only her elderly nursemaid Klara accompanied Galina up the gangplank of the immense ocean liner. A stately vision in shades of somber grey and black, the lack of true color belied the first sardonic hint of a smile that graced Galina's lips in some time.

Yes, it was a delicious bit of irony, the name of this grand, elegant ship, emblazoned on her prow:

RMS Empress of Japan

**********

Galina was settled into a deck chair, the lengths of her skirt covered with a soft blanket. Klara had long been asleep in the chair next to her, and she watched the elderly woman dozing so peacefully, the light of a genuine fondness about her dark eyes. Truly, in Galina's mind this cruise was as much a gift to her beloved nursemaid, as it was a means to her ends. Klara had cradled her as a little girl, just as she cradled her mother. It was Klara's high, sweet voice that sang both her beloved little girls to sleep on many a night; the hands that soothed small hurts and taught her letters...

Galina reached to the elderly woman, so gently running one finger over Klara's age-spotted hand before returning to her lap, and to the book she had perched there. A small, contented sigh escaped as she lifted the tumbler of vodka to her lips, taking a sip before setting it back to the deck table. Yes, Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment" seemed an oddly apropos choice this day.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Zachary Selvin was a former engineer of the United States Navy. From serving upon the vessels themselves to teaching up-and-coming engineers the ins and outs of the ships they would spend so much time living in, he knew all one could about the ships of the US Navy. Now retired, the aging man spent his days upon the RMS Empress of Japan, working as an advisor and unofficial overseer for the ships mechanics. He was no high priority person, held no close secrets of recent military developments or knew current intel on naval movements. Just an aged teacher spending his twilight years upon the waves.

But a teacher was just the kind of person Japan needed.

Takahiro moved slowly across the forward deck of the massive ocean liner, a small smile creasing his face as the salt spray danced across his form. He wore the uniform of his station today, a robe of silk dyed a deep blue hung lightly upon his form, a second garment of pure white visible from the robe's collar dived downwards to a wrapped belt of equally-white silk. Decorative cords dyed in blues and blacks secured the robe across his chest, as well as hung from wide sleeves and ran down the 'legs' of the robe itself. Fanning out about his feet, simple corded sandals could be seen as he stepped, their sandy color matching that of his cane, seeming quite sturdy despite appearing to be made of bamboo.

No sword adorned his belt, the decoration left aside in respect for the western world. Besides, it was an old custom, for a samurai to wear his sword everywhere he walked, one swiftly fading as Japan raced towards a new era. Quietly, Takahiro urged that race on, always looking forward to the day when 'his' class was no longer needed.

And among these westerners enjoying the cruise, how many truly knew of his culture? How many of those that stared at his dress, that chuckled or 'ahhhed' to one another, actually understood? Likely none, which meant the stylized imagery of a swimming koi sewn into the back of his robe would likely not be seen for the insult it was.

Of course, it was only insulting those of the class he himself 'belonged' to. So the westerners could be forgiven for not understanding.

[["Takahiro-san, this ship is well underway. Should we begin now?"]]

Taking a moment away from enjoying the feeling of water and wave once more, Takahiro turned to the two 'brothers' that had accompanied him on this mission. Goemon stood closer, the one who had spoke, dressed sharply in western cloth. Daisuke was dressed the same, but stood slightly further behind, one ear on the conversation and two eyes on the world around them.

Koe to Ken. Voice and fist. Ones close enough to Takahiro that they might as well be blood brothers, and the only proper choice in accomplices for this part of the mission.

[["You to go ahead."]] Takahiro couldn't help but look back out to the sea as he spoke. Better than any painting or carving, better than any curve or arch of building. This[i] was the beauty, the art he most enjoyed. It was almost enough to make him long for a certain charming young lady at his side, appreciating the view as well.

A pity that certain charming young lady wasn't [i]quite as charming as she appeared. But maybe that wasn't all a bad thing?

[["Daisuke, find Selvin. Goemon, keep an eyes out for our baronessa. Learn the boat as you do, we're only watching now."]] He couldn't help the smile that grew across his lips, couldn't hide the glint in his eye at the thought of what was to come . [["The mission- our little revenge, comes after."]]

"Hai!" Goemon bowed, Daisuke saluted, and as one Takahiro's voice and fist set forth on their most recent mission.

Leaving Takahiro alone at the ocean liner's expansive bow, taking in the sights and spray with a look of utter contentment and joyous aniticipation.

[Igraine]

"Klara?" Galina smiled as her fingertips brushed the old woman's petal soft cheek, until those pale blue eyes finally opened with a smile for her littlest girl. [["Shall we get ready for lunch?"]]

Klara lovingly returned that gentle smile, reaching to squeeze those beloved fingers. She pushed back the blanket over her own legs, taking Galina's hand as she slowly rose from the deck chair. [["I never imagined the sea air could make one so sleepy,"]] she murmured, taking the offered arm as the pair began to walk toward the stair that would lead to their luxurious stateroom suite.

[["Or hungry?"]] Galina quipped, and Klara only laughed.

[["Oh, one day you'll see Galina. The older you get, the less food a body needs - but then again, the less sleep as well, and just look at me now! Perhaps by the time we reach the other side of the Pacific, I'll be as fat and lazy as your father's old cat! Do you remember him? That fuzzy, mean, unrepentantly indolent creature?"]] The elderly woman shook her head slowly, chuckling warmly at the memory.

[["Ah! That awful creature! A rat could dance on his head and he could not be bothered to raise a paw to shoo it out of the room! Bah! But try to take his bowl of food before it was licked perfectly clean? You might have lost a finger -no! A hand!"]]

Galina laughed and nodded her head, finding not a single fault in her old nursemaid's recollection of that singularly nasty creature. Enormous and vicious in equal measure, hateful to every last man, woman and child - but her Papa. If anything, Klara might be slightly understating the beast's vile disposition.

[["Papa always has had a way with the vicious and intractible... "]]The young lady was lost for several long minutes in the old memories, reminiscing with her nursemaid as they strolled leisurely below deck to their rooms to freshen up. But even as they walked, the long-drilled discipline allowed Galina to peruse other matters as she would, appearing as unaffected and light as any guise she had ever worn.

Galina had not yet been contacted concerning her other purpose for being aboard this ocean liner. She had to admit to herself, the circumstances of her voyage were still more than a little strange, no matter the channels through which it came. She still did not know the name of her contact, or even the full extent of her mission.

A recruitment.

That was all she knew and, were the meet not made on the limited environment of an ocean liner like the Empress, Galina doubted her father would have ever allowed such a thing to occur. It was one thing to be brave. To be devoted and loyal. To serve where needed without question - but a whole other matter indeed, to be a fool.

Neither Vasily Demidov nor his daughter were fools.

And so Galina simply let herself be... Available. Unadorned and in plain sight. She would know when the time came who she was meant to coordinate with and, apparently , not a single moment before -

She gasped, so softly that not even Klara noticed as they walked, side-by-side, arm-in-arm. It was certainly not his clothing that caught her eye. True the expensive suit was beautifully tailored - fit like the proverbial glove actually - but there was little else remarkable about his dress. No, it was the cast of his face, the distinctive Japanese features -

Of course it was not him. But that did not mean the sudden knot in her throat hurt any less. Galina blinked, met the man's eyes quickly, smiling just a moment before she swiftly turned away. Even if her heart pounded in her throat, this thing showed not a wit in her dark eyes. She simply nodded respectfully, and then continued on with Klara without a second glance back.

No matter how it killed her.

[Derren Krenshaw]

Daisuke paced calmly throughout the lower hallways of the Ocean Liner, nodding politely to those he happened to pass. He moved with purpose, spoke none and continued to move forward. No one stepped forth to bother him.

So he progressed lower and lower, ensuring he moved through every hall on each floor. It wasn't a foolproof plan to find Engineer Selvin, but it would ingrain the ships layout into his memory. When he finally did come across the man in question, when they finally did put their plan into motion, he would know precisely where to go, no matter the scenario.

To know one's surroundings, that was the task of a fist. But Diasuke was the fist of Souma Takahiro, nothing less than perfect knowledge could be allowed.

Slowly, the large, sharp-dressed man moved another level down, and paced yet another hallway.

~-~-~

If Goemon noticed the Baronessa as she and her elderly companion passed by -or noticed the nod she made at his own passing- the slender man made no sign. He continued along his way, striding calmly along, eyes locked upon some sight far in the distance. It was as though his mind was far away, lost in memories of his homeland, perhaps, brought back from being upon the waves once more.

He certainly meant no disrespect towards Miss Demidova, his attentions simply appeared to be elsewhere. The fact that he was acutely aware of her passing was not something she needed to know.

The description matched perfectly, it was almost guaranteed she was the one he searched for, yet Goemon continued to stride away. He moved calmly along the upper levels, pausing only to catch the attention of a gossiping young pair just around the corner.

Oh yes, he was indeed from the east. Japan, to be exact, yes. Oh it was a lovely place, though not nearly as lovely as the sights here. Oh he was sorry, english was still a little foreign to him. Why thank you! Oh I did, foreign as well? Russian? Oh I've never met one of them before... A Baroness? My, that's very important, yes? Oh thank you for your help ladies. Oh? I would love to learn more, very much. You can? That would be very lovely. Later? Oh certainly, I look forward to it.

They ended their talk, and he continued along his way. Every so often, someone would catch his attention, or he'd find reason to speak to someone else. He charmed them, and they answered his naive questions or volunteered answers of their own. Each told him a little bit more, of the area, of his quarry, and of what to expect when everything finally began.

It was the task of a voice to learn what he could of and from the people he met. Of course, Goemon was the voice of Takahiro Souma, to whom no amount of knowledge could be considered sufficient.

Slowly, the slender, sharp-dressed man moved across yet another bustling room, and spoke to yet another series of eager people.

~-~-~

Never let it be said that Takahiro did no work of his own.

Having secured their positions on this vessel, having set up the 'job' with which to entice the elusive Baronessa, having secured the necessary assistance to transport the 'goods' they will acquire, he allowed himself some small leisure. And yet even here, upon the deck of the ship, with salt and wind and beckoning sky, he found himself at work once more.

His manner of dress caught quite a number of curious eyes, and the man who had spent much time ingratiating himself among the elite of the area was the focus of attention once more. He answered questions politely, responded to praise with due flattery, and smiled at the rising spirits he left each and every one of them in. He worked with efficiency, every conversation short, every introduction brief, the crowd dispersing behind him as he moved across the deck, even as it gathered just before.

All the while, as he walked and talked and took in the sights, his eyes roamed. They took in all there was to see on the deck of the ship, as they would the upper levels when it was time to flee the sun. His body felt the subtle heeling of the boat below as he moved, balance retained even with the required cane. He spoke gladly with those who approached, and looked over yet more of the deck around, all in preparation for what was to come.

Daisuke would know the lower levels. He would know how to best move Selvin up top, where to go so he avoided others, and when to strike so as not to raise alarm.

Goemon would know most of the guests and crew. He would know who might be susceptible to bribery or coercion, who might make for a scapegoat or could simply be made a distraction.

But Daisuke wouldn't have time to memorize all of the massive Liner, and Goemon could in no way learn of every person it held. So Takahiro spoke, listened and learned. So Takahiro watched, measured and memorized. He would know enough to fill the gaps left by his 'brothers', enough to accurately plan the next move, and to adapt should anything unexpected rise before them.

He was Takahiro Souma, heir to the group of smugglers, gamblers and racketeers that had managed to manipulate their way into the good graces of the noble elite back home. Goemon was his voice, Daisuke his fist, but Takahiro was the soul, the mind, the heart and blood and bone. He was the one who knew the rest, whenever the fist broke and bruised, whenever the voice cracked hoarse, he took the reins and led the way.

So for now he walked, watching and talking as he moved steadily along. The plan didn't begin yet, no, it wouldn't be until the crowds settled down for a decadent supper that he would make his move. It was then he would approach Galina Demidova, the one who had gotten the better of him before. And it was then, that his little revenge would truly start.

[Igraine]

The warm, heady strains of the string quartet twisted and snaked among the ivory cloth covered tables across the expanse of vast dining room; a musical breeze that teased the ears as sweetly as the scent of the appetizers that wafted from the galley enticed the palette. Overhead intricately carved scrollwork danced across the grand domed ceiling, painted cherubs flitting among the delicately carved whirls and whorls, smiling gently at the gathering diners far below.

The gas light sconces set into the Roman-style columns illuminated all with a gentle golden glow. Reflected from the polished marble floors, the illusion dining on a great veranda on a sunlit day was made complete by the Tuscany-themed landscapes delicately painted the length and breadth of the dining room.

Galina savored the expression that spread across Klara's sweet face as they walked together, arm-in-arm once more to this breathtaking panorama. The Demidov ancestral home - while grand in its own way - had nothing to compare with the kaleidoscopic grandeur of the Empress of Japan's first class dining room.

[["So lovely, is it not?"]] the young woman whispered as they walked toward one of the tables, escorted by one of the many smartly dressed servers who bustled between the tables. The two women this night though, were very like jewels themselves: Klara in a dress of deep sapphire blue, and Galina in entirely in emerald green and gold silks.

The elder woman nodded, still smiling as brightly as a young child as she reveled in the loveliness. And with a grace that belied her years, Klara settled into the high-backed, red velvet chair that was held for her by the same charming young gentleman who escorted them to their table.

[["I know very well, that even the most beautiful things can become too familiar and lose their polish over time. I truly pray to never lose the wonder of this moment, Galina."]]

The young woman settled easily into the chair held for her as well, taking her nurse's hand with a gentle squeeze of her fingers. And despite the splendor of this room all about them, Galina could not help but think the loveliest light in all this room, was the divine one that illuminated Klara's face at this very moment.

Galina sighed happily, her gaze falling over the candlelit centerpiece of their table, to the empty chairs on the far side. A slow, knowing smile slid across her former nursemaid's face as she followed Galina's gaze, her pale blue-grey eyes turning to the woman she could not ever help thinking of as a little dark-haired girl with a penchant for horses and forests, bruises and skinned knees, running after her older brothers, refusing to be left behind no matter what they did or where they went...

[["Still no word yet? Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I get to keep my little wolf pup all to myself for another night, but is this not a bit unusual? "]] Klara said softly, her voice barely a whisper between them, though in all likelihood none could have understood the Russian language, even if they happened to overhear.

Galina shook her head slowly, turning to the elder woman with a near imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. [["Not a single word, and I'll admit, I'm a bit... Perplexed. Not even so much as a hint of a word - but I can wait patiently, I imagine. I have, after all, the very best of company to keep."]]

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon moved easily through the crowded dining room. Dresses of vibrant colors swirled about him, suits of rich fabrics lending contrast to the dizzying display. It was a room of wealth, filled with excitable patrons of luxury. The very air hummed with western decadence and celebration, so alien to the sharp-dressed japanese man, and yet familiar enough to bring a small smile to his lips.

It was just like his old playgrounds, back home.

Nodding, smiling and greeting with deft politesse, he forged a weaving path throughout the dining room. He didn't strive to draw attention to himself, didn't aim to do more than leave pleasant thoughts and vague memories of himself in his passing. There was no need for a scene, no need to be recognized, he simply needed them to let him pass.

And let him they did, smiling and nodding and greeting in turn. The whole ordeal was over with more swiftly than he could have hoped, the lean, cleanshaven man arriving at the desired table shortly after it's occupants had made themselves comfortable.

"Pardon me, is there a place... open?" Accented though it was, Goemon's mouth spoke the foreign language with easy confidence. His brown, nearly black eyes settled calmly upon the young lady before him as he dipped a polite bow, gaze knowing who she was, that there was no accident he was here.

"Apologies, but I was unable to find... recruitment? For table?" Lips pulled together in a slight frown at the words, the gesture never reaching his eyes. "That is not word I want, is it?"

[Igraine]

The gentle, welcoming smile on her face did not so much as flicker from its perch on her lovely lips. Galina's dark eyes were instantly riveted to the charming young Japanese man with a voice as smooth as glass, though obviously nowhere near so transparent. Her elegant hand gestured to the chair closest, a wordless indication that, of course, he was more than welcome to join their small party, and see it grow by at least one charismatic stranger.

And though her heart raced at the sight of the Japanese man she had passed earlier below deck, nothing of that too-genuine surprise showed on her face. Either at his appearance, or at his choice of words.

"Please, do join us," Galina said graciously, the dulcet notes of the string quartet utterly unable to compete with the gracious beauty of her melodic voice. She nodded her head politely to the young man as he moved to join them at their table. There was a knowing look in his eyes that, truth be told, unnerved her for a moment - though she was far too much the consummate professional to allow her mask to slip.

"Introductions first, if we are to pass our time far more pleasantly tonight?" she continued blithely, despite the sudden certainty that this man knew exactly who she was - even if she was at a complete disadvantage on the matter of his identity. But that was the nature of this mission aboard the Empress after all, was it not?

Galina turned to the elder woman beside her with a smile. "This is one of my oldest and dearest of friends, Klara Antonova, and I am Galina Demidova . And I feel confident in speaking for us both, that it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

The younger woman lifted a crystal goblet of ice water to her lips, taking a slow sip as she looked over the edge to the well-dressed man beside them.

Arching one eyebrow curiously, that sweet smile returned as she set the goblet down once more. "And as for your choice of words, sir? I imagine you might best decide whether that was the precise word you wished to use. I would guess that your grasp of the English language is far more impressive than, perhaps, your modesty might allow you to let on?"

The first stirrings of genuine misgiving squirmed uneasily in her gut, though her dark eyes never left their dinner guest's face. Now, what were the odds? The odds that the first hint of their unknown contact would be a Japanese man? Here, aboard the Empress of Japan? What would be the chances of such a happening, when the very man whose memory she could not be rid of, was himself a denizen of that island nation?

Galina was never a great fan of "coincidence."

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon offered up a quiet chuckle of defeat, bowing lightly to Galina and Klara as he took seat beside the young lady..

"A pleasure to meet you both, Miss Demidova, Miss Antonova." True to the woman's perogative, all hint of hesitation vanished from his words. Still accented, he nevertheless spoke with easy fluency, as one well-accustomed to the language, foreign or not. "Goemon Daichi at your service, or simply Goemon."

Taking a sip from his own goblet, Goemon allowed himself a moment to plan his next words. This was the job for him, after all, speaking and listening, swimming along the flow of conversation. Takahiro had drafted the plan and pulled the strings necessary to get them and Miss Demidova onto the required vessel, now it was his turn to make sure she was willing to take part.

"It seems I have a few apologies to make." Lowering his goblet, Goemon inclined his head towards the two women. "Americans are quite fond of broken speech, and rarely stop to wonder if the speaker is as unfamiliar as they seem..."

"... And I've made you wait longer than is right as well, Miss Demidova and Miss Antonova. I should have greeted you far sooner, and for that I am very, truly sorry."

A second, lower nod of his head accompanied those words. It was true he had kept them waiting, caught up with the other tasks he was ordered to complete beforehand. It had been necessary, important for the mission, but still impolite. An apology was past due, and so duly given.

"It is my hope that you could help me with some troubles." He spared another moment for a quick glance around the room. Things were settling down, food ready to be brought out. Once everyone was distracted with meal and conversation, it would be easier to talk. For now, however, ensuring the two women beside him didn't reject him out of hand was a more pressing matter.

"And I know this setup is... unconventional. So please, ask whatever you wish. I'm asking your help, it's only fair that you ask of me in return."

[Igraine]

Galina's eyebrow remained arched with the strangest mix of amusement and curiosity as she regarded this well-spoken, well-dressed man who called himself Goeman. No, it was not the fact that his English truly was, in fact, near impeccable. Galina had already surmised as much, after all. But his frank, quick admission concerning their near-miss of a meeting this morning she actually found... Refreshing. Surprising and refreshing, and the young woman smiled.

"Apology accepted of course, Goeman," Galina smiled smoothly, her dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully though that small tilt of a grin remained exactly where it was. "One can never be too careful, doing what we do. Though I admit, your charismatic manner and pleasing way of speech must have made any number of people wish to toss all caution to the winds. I do believe, you are a truly charming, disarming man."

If Galina was aware of the irony of her words, coming as they did from a woman with a voice to seduce birds from the branches of trees, she gave absolutely no indication that this was so.

As a matter of course, she bowed her head in acknowledgement, as low as the young man had when he apologized. "And you are right of course. Questions Goeman - so many questions, I can barely decide where to begin - well, perhaps with the most obvious then? Obviously we are not Americans. But then again, I am also not Japanese and, unless I am very mistaken, you are certainly not embracing the Holy Church nor swearing allegiance to the Tsar, nor certainly to Mother Russia. Oh! Thank you... "

Galina glanced up to the waiter who placed a small plate of salad before her, fresh greens and artichoke hearts, whole cherry tomatoes and thin slices of red onion with a red wine vinaigrette, moving to Klara then, the only other lady at their table, and then to Goemon.

"As I was saying," she continued, laying her napkin neatly in her skirted lap. "Questions. You speak of my helping you, and yet I remain quite perplexed. Why in the world would I have a thing to do with helping you, Goemon?"

"Oh, and I do pray you appreciate straightforward speech between us. I do not know I am capable of any less with a peer. So yes, I am well aware you say I have been sent here for you - and yet even so, you should know I am allowed a good deal of autonomy. Russia does not raise up broods of stupid, naive children after all."

"What possible overlap between the interests of Japan and Russia could there truly be? And if you tell me you are some kind of 'double agent' I will simply leave you here and now, and bid you adieu. Should you press the issue, I will bid you adieu head first over the deck railing of the Empress - and that would be most unfortunate. I do hope such unpleasantness will be utterly unnecessary."

Gaina smiled sweetly, even hopefully perhaps, as she took up her salad fork and speared a few greens and a ripe little tomato. "So... 'Unconventional,' was it... ?"

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon's smile survived the questioning onslaught brought upon it by Galina Demidova, the Japanese spy graciously accepting the food that came their way while weathering the barrage. This was very much his battlefield, the one of words and wordplay, of charm and wit. You could not predict exactly what another would say, but every action brought questions with it.

Their actions in trying to recruit Galina raised a great many questions. Ones Goemon had been tasked with answering some time ago.

"You're correct, my allegiance is to my homeland. I'm afraid I have no intention to defect, to Russia or any other country... though it seems that saves me a trip over the side of this vessel for the moment."

He allowed his lips to quirk upwards just a little more, taking advantage of the moment to sample some of the cherry tomatoes the waiter had brought to his seat. It seemed in some way wrong that he got to enjoy the excellent food and service of the Empress tonight, while Daisuke and Takahiro had to remain absent. His own boss wouldn't have the opportunity to sample the food Goemon would be served here, by all rights he shouldn't be eating anything at all.

Still, those were some excellent tomatoes. And the rest of the plate only looked more delicious.
"Unconventional is the word of the evening. If I hadn't found myself in a somewhat embarrassing situation, I never would have asked you here to begin with." Blunt, but she did seem to prefer the straightforward approach. Dancing around the issue with coy words would be more entertaining, but might cause the mission to fail in it's entirety. Blunt it would have to be, then.

"I'm trying to salvage what first seemed to be a golden opportunity- an older, experienced engineer who had grown disillusioned with his country. A small prize, but useful... until I discovered he would only deal with those from his mother's homeland."

Taking the opportunity to spear more than just tomatoes to his fork to sample, Goemon met Galina's gaze directly. That was the reason he asked her here, after all, to do the job he found himself unable to accomplish. Embarrassing as that was, it remained better to salvage whatever one could, than accept failure completely.

That was the other reason he and Galina were on this vessel tonight, courtesy of Takahiro. Something Goemon would not be mentioning out loud.

"So my mission to retrieve a person of interest becomes one of good faith. In short, I wish to offer you this gentleman -even help you get him off the Empress- in hopes that you might return the favor." He offered both ladies at the table a low, respectful nod. "That is the help I need from you on this voyage. And why I spent the time to find you and invite you here in the first place."

[Igraine]

"No need for embarrassment, Mr. Goemon. Sometimes it is simply easier to speak with someone a touch more... Well, familiar is all," Galina said sedately, nothing in her placid demeanor and silken, melodic voice belying the sudden surge of regret that rose like bitter bile in the back of her throat

The truth of the matter was, sitting here with this well-spoken and courteous young spy from Japan? She was, of course, being far less than honest. Oh, Goemon was obviously a man in whose presence one might easily be charmed and disarmed, though letting one's guard down so far with this man was likely a very unwise proposition. Even so, his appearance and easy manner truly did invite familiarity. But no matter Galina's claim to Goemon, the company of the 'familiar' was not at all what she truly craved at least.

No, there was little she would not give to have even a broken, halting conversation concerning nothing of any grand importance at all. Perhaps small talk of the superb quality of the fresh greens in the salad, even aboard a ship; or maybe some discussion of the lovely baroque cherubs painted on the vaulted ceilings above? Or better still, perhaps no conversation at all, but simply silent yet incomparable company during an after-dinner turn about the Empress' deck.

Goemon was pleasant, yes, and could even become dangerously familiar if she were foolish enough to allow such a thing. But all his presence truly did was remind her of all she did not have this very moment, of the genuinely decent and exceptional company she so deliberately betrayed for the sake of duty, the like of which she would surely never find again.

The wolf in the woman paced behind the cage of those darkly calm eyes, whining softly in her misery, worrying at the ache that she simple could not shake. And it was this torment roiling just beneath the surface of Galina’s serene aspect that simultaneously – and paradoxically – both distracted and focused her thoughts. While the woman mutely mourned, it was the spy whose designs took shape, the one constructive outlet left for her brilliant yet troubled thoughts.

And it was the spy Galina who agreed wholeheartedly with Goemon, that this was a most strange and unprecedented arrangement. If this assignment had not been broached to her father through the most reliable of channels, the young woman might very well have burst into laughter at the absurdity of Goemon’s proposition, right then and there, courtesy be damned. The amount of trust it seemed she was expected to place in this stranger’s hands was near unprecedented in Galina’s experience.

But of course courtesy would not be damned, and most certainly not here in the grand elegance of the Empress’ dining room. And so Galina simply nodded and bowed politely as Goemon did once more before she spoke yet again. “So yes, an… Engineer, you said? I am afraid, Mr. Goemon, that the questions simply must continue, though I imagine that does not surprise you in the least. Of course I should very much like to know his name, and is he a passenger of the Empress, or is he a crew member? What type of engineer is our dissatisfied defector?”

Galina dabbed gently at the corners of her mouth with her napkin before she spoke again, a nod of thanks to a server who passed, who filled first her wine glass, and then Klara’s and Goemon’s, with a lovely golden chardonnay. And when he had moved on to a different table, the young woman continued her query. “What country does this engineer hail from then, and to where shall he be sent – and did you say you had managed a way to remove him from the Empress… While we are still at sea?”

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon swirled the golden liquid within it's crystal home for a moment, mulling over Galina's questions while simultaneously bemoaning the lack of good sake. The price of the mission, perhaps, the only bottle he knew of on the ship being carried by his boss.

You get the glamorous job, Goemon. Neither me nor Daisuke will get to enjoy the kind of dinner you will.

Said by the man likely sipping happily from a wooden cup in the lower levels. Who had the truly glamorous job, one had to wonder?

"He is... an overseer of types, from what I've learned. He advises the engineers and mechanics of the ship, but mostly enjoys a retirement on the waves." He brought the glass to his lips, allowing just the smallest of sips to grace his tongue. Acceptable, barely. "Zachary Selvin, son of Joshua Slevin and Natasha Islava... who had grown up in Russia before finding love in America."

He paused for a moment to judge what -if any- reaction that might bring. She had likely guessed as much herself, but any opportunity to test the warnings of his boss should be taken as they arose. A master actress, able to keep any truth from marring whichever mask she chose to wear. Takahiro could wax eloquent when he was excited, but the words seemed quite true. Goemon could read nothing more than courteous curiosity, maybe the slightest undercurrent of mistrust. She remained just distant enough to not be drawn in, and it seemed dangerous to try and test that theory. Galina Demidova was a spy, a good spy, one who had gotten the better of Takahiro Souma, of all people. They spoke as equals, but Goemon felt himself standing lower than the sweetly smiling lady beside him. The conversation stayed firmly upon business, her voice singing questions as if to test for falsehood.

She was good... she was exceptional. But Goemon held the advantage, if only slightly. As long as he played safe and spoke well, he would succeed.

"He worked as an overseer on a number of warships during his younger years, and moved to teaching military engineers for some time before retiring. Few people know more about American warships than he does, and none of them are as willing to leave a country he has grown to tire of."

"Unfortunately for me, he wishes to leave for his mother's homeland, and was polite but dismissive of my appeals. For someone who thought they had found the perfect teacher to help their homeland... it was a somewhat sobering conversation."

He allowed a little more than a drop of the wine to pass his lips this time, dropping his gaze for a moment. It was a hard thing to admit failure, worse when it was to someone not of your own country. Even though Takahiro had already laid the groundwork, even though Selvin had already been charmed by the older spy's appeal days before, Goemon still had to paint himself as a spy who got too excited by the sight of a small opportunity, and ruined it for himself.

Just having to play that part before Galina, brought genuine embarrassment into his voice.

"But yes-" He met her eyes again, composed once more as questions remained to be answered. "I have a comrade who will be approaching the Empress with a small vessel of his own. There should be a quiet place at night, where he can offer you the boat so that you may slip away with Selvin."

He sampled a bit more of the food before him, laying his fork neatly to the side after he had tasted enough. It was good, quite good, but not of his country. Part of him longed for simple rice and fresh-caught fish, or even a haunch of meat swindled from a naive merchant. It was the little things, the things you had to work for, that tasted so sweet to his pallet. Glamor and decadence had it's own appeal, but tasted too much like the very people he and his brothers had made play of to be truly enjoyed.

"My comrade will board this boat of course." That little fact seemed too blatant to risk glossing over. "Or if you want to hold him on board until you reach land. At this point... the only way I can salvage anything is to ask your help. So whatever I can do to that effect, I will."

[Igraine]

The emotion was genuine in Goemon’s voice, his chagrin at the circumstance in which he found himself. Galina could hear it clear as a clarion call, ringing true through and through – and yet…

And yet, there was still something she did not trust – would never trust – and it was far more than simply a spy’s quite-natural and often-lifesaving paranoia. She mulled over this odd intuition for several seconds as Goemon spoke, noting the composure in his every least movement, the apparent plausibility of his every word, the plaintive glint in his eyes as these admissions were apparently drawn from him, all again his will and an affront to his pride, however necessary.

And when he was finished, a thought occurred to Galina that lit her smile with a genuine, utterly unfeigned amusement.

Of all the people in this world, Goemon’s demeanor as he sat here, cool and composed – and yet evincing the most convincing display of emotion – reminded her most of only one person she truly knew. Herself. The young man reminded Galina of herself when she was entrancing one of her marks, or seducing a potential compatriot to see things exactly as she most wished he would.

Any nascent trust that might have seeded the corridors of her mind was turned over, the earth salted ever after in regards to Mr. Goemon. Even so, that did not mean her genuine appreciation and affection for the young man was not elevated by several very real and appreciable degrees.

“I do appreciate your candor, Mr. Goemon,” Galina said softly, without the least hint of irony tainting her words. “While I admit, I had not expected to be leaving the Empress at all – well, during our journey, at least? I should still prefer to travel alongside our new friend on the return trip to his new, most appreciative homeland.”

“Yes, I will do this thing - though I should wish for some reassurance that Klara will have proper company for the remainder of her journey.” Galina held her hand up for a moment, anticipating her old friend’s protests, turning to her with a smile. “This was as much well-earned vacation for you Klara, as work for me. I will not hear of you leaving the Empress before you have enjoyed every last moment of this magnificent voyage, on this beautiful ship.”

This exchange went on several long moments in their native Russian, though Galina cut it off short enough with a good-natured shake of her head, curt though smiling still, that indicated there would be no further discussion of the subject, and that she absolutely would have her way in this matter.

Galina’s attentions returned to Mr. Goemon, and nodded to him in apology. “Forgive me the rudeness of speaking around you – but yes, please. A proper companion if you would. And if I am not completely mistaken, it seems you have already scheduled the arrival of the ship that will ferry Mr. Slevin away? I suppose this truly only leaves us with a few more questions then.”

“What time will this ship arrive, to re-board our wayward engineer, and what kind of ship is it? And even more importantly of course: when will I finally meet our engineering friend? As you can imagine, I would very much like to make his acquaintance, speak with him myself concerning his intent, before we depart.”

“Will he be joining us for dinner tonight, or should we meet after we have had the opportunity to enjoy our wonderful meal, and our newly found company?”

[Derren Krenshaw]

More questions, Goemon had to believe it was a good thing. He didn't know Russian, not anywhere near well enough to follow the quickly-spoken words Galina shared with Klara beside her. He didn't try to listen to hard either, feeling his position tenuous enough without inviting offense. She was continuing the conversation, seeming to accept all he told her and staying on the path to accepting the proposal in its entirety. A good thing, a great thing, but he forced himself to remain composed.

He had still utterly failed to draw her in. She listened, she smiled, she spoke and seemed to go along, but still remained very much of her own mind. There would never be a time to get complacent.

"I'm afraid I came aboard alone, but if you deem it acceptable, I can accompany Madame Antanova on the rest of the voyage." He offered the older woman a low nod of his head as he spoke. "That is, if she finds it acceptable, as well."

"As for the boat in question, it is a former sloop converted into a motorboat. Not the fastest boat you'll find, but roomy, low-profile, and quiet. My comrade is waiting along the Empress' planned route, and should be pulling up alongside this vessel late in the evening, when most are focused indoors or on sleep."

"As for meeting Mister Selvin, he seems to prefer staying belowdecks, and did say that he'd be in his cabin for much of the evening. There should be plenty of time for us to enjoy our meal, then go down and speak with Selvin before we depart."

Taking another sip of his wine, Goemon stilled his voice and nodded to the waiter who happened to pass by. Catching the cue, the man cleared his place, someone else moving in almost immediately to replace the dirtied silver. Mechanical precision it seemed. Certainly impressive, though if ever asked later what he thought about the meal, he'd likely have very little to say.

The conversation he was having during the meal, however...

"The only challenge might be when it actually comes time to leave the ship. The boat will approach to starboard, shielded from the moonlight by the Empress, but we'll likely want to make sure no one comes stumbling across us while we are tying off ropes and lowering people from the side of this vessel. Though maybe not that much of a challenge to overcome..." He offered a slight shrug as he spoke, nodding again in appreciation for the talents he knew Galina possessed. "But I feel I should mention that this plan isn't without risk... Not that I've ever found one that is."

That was truth so pure you could weigh it against a feather. The actual risk for this mission- for what Takahiro had planned- was daunting, but necessary. Some actions had to be taken, and while the precise way they were executed could be left open for interpretation, it remained fact that there was no alternative to what Goemon was doing here.

[Igraine]

It was not Goemon's offer to escort Klara the remainder of the journey that troubled Galina in the least. If she were going to assume the man was trustworthy enough to coordinate this entire operation, considering all the layers of security he would have had to go through to find her and have her brought to the Empress in the first place? Well yes, she could allow him to remain Klara's escort to their destination, and her old friend did not seem to mind the proposition.

Rather, it was one tiny, almost insignificant statement made as he outlined his plan, and the circumstances surrounding the removal of the engineer from the Empress. No, her strange, sudden misgivings had nothing to do with the risk of course. Goemon could not possibly have been more on point - all doings of a spy held some degree of risk. And as he explained the plan, Galina nodded her understanding, her dark eyes never leaving the man's face.

Equal parts art and artifice, she truly did appreciate Goemon's admirable skill his craft. Yet that single sentence he spoke from the start, that almost... Well... In truth the words very nearly glowed in her mind's eye, brighter and brighter still, as Goemon continued without the least interruption from her. All the intricate details of this complex operation, and what seemed no small amount of precise coordination to be made on the Empress? Why, the muscle power alone that would be needed to see the two of them over the ship's rail to the motor boat below would be extraordinary.

Yes, Galina nodded and smiled so sweetly, her dark eyes flashing with something very like amusement now as she took another dainty bite of her most excellent meal, chewing and swallowing before she spoke. "My goodness, Mr. Goemon," she began mildly, her eyes wide and assuredly impressed with the young man's earnest rendition of his plan. "Are you sure you have truly brought the person you most need to bring Mr. Slevin along to his beloved heart home in Mother Russia?"

Galina rested her elbow on her forearm, folded over her belly. She let her chin fall to her fingertips, tilting her head just a touch as she regarded her 'fellow' spy curiously. "Oh yes, most certainly I can speak Russian, but considering my birthplace that should not be so extraordinary I imagine?"

She lifted her chin, freeing those long, agile fingers to wave in slow, lazy circles in the air before her. "But considering the precision that will be required to ensure we remain entirely unseen shipboard, and then? Then the manpower alone required to see us over the rail to the waiting boat below, over sea spray and waves and the ocean winds? I only wish I had half the brawn of my brothers, to do my humble part to carry this out. All that must be done - it simply boggles the mind!"

Galina frowned just a touch, though the light of genuine delight never left her dark eyes. "Such a shame, Mr. Goeman, that you 'came aboard alone.'"

[Derren Krenshaw]

Goemon offered Galina a small smile, absently swirling the wine in his glass, seemingly unconcerned by her sudden rousing suspicion. Oh, he was concerned, the sweat on the back of his neck and under the sleeves of his coat running cold as he worked to keep composed on the surface.

"I don't see it as a shame, and yes, Miss Galina Demidova, I am convinced I brought the person I needed. It often seems precision and planning accomplish more than brawn could dream of... even if the task seems to require the latter."

Daisuke would not be pleased to hear that comment. Takahiro's fist took as much pride in his role as Goemon did in his own, and there were just as many times where brawn was found needed when precision and planning collapsed before the finish. Luckily, however, Daisuke wasn't around, and so Goemon could continue climbing out of this whole in peace.

"The Lifeboats on this vessel are quite easy to lower, and provide both a buffer between this ship and my companion's, as well as a more stable platform to descend and cross over from. I've helped board others onto vessels with this plan, and from what I've seen around the ship so far, the reverse should not be hard to accomplish."

He took far more care in his words this time, noting with grave importance how quickly she had latched on to the brief comment he had made before. She didn't trust him in the least, a fact that his constant reassurances and compromises had not helped -and maybe had made worse. But admitting the lie would be worse, far worse, than almost any other option. When dealing openly with another spy, you didn't admit lies like that. It marked you as weak, desperate, even pitiful. If such a light jab sent him stammering with confession, how could he ever convince her to work with him?

No, Goemon had more pride in his words than that.

"In the worst case -say the weather worsens by the time you are ready to depart- I have found out a few people who I could convince to helping us. Notably among the engineers Mister Selvin advises, it's not a risk I'd like to take, but I'd rather have the option than none at all."

[Igraine]

"Well then let us pray that such weather does not descend these next several hours, shall we Mr. Goemon?" Galina's smile was wide, almost predatory now though there would have been nothing in either word or deed anyone might point to that meant the least malice.

But at least they had the measure of one another now, Mr. Goemon and Galina. For her part, Klara acted as if she noticed not at all the undercurrent of tensions between the two who shared the table with her, which in itself was a well-cultivated act perfected over the course of long decades. One did not simply work for the Demidov family, so much as assimilate all its ways, great and small, into one's own world.

Goemon was an excellent spy, skilled and agile with words at the least, though Galina had yet to witness his physical prowess - a physical prowess the importance of which, it seemed, he did his very best to down play. Lifeboats easy to lower, indeed! And then to retract as well? Well now, this was a sight she simply could not go to her grave without seeing! It was a testament to her professionalism that the only laughter in sight was the dancing golden light in her dark eyes.

Still, Goemon lied well, without so much as the least sprouting beads of moisture she could see, anywhere on his impressively bald-shaved pate. That had to take some doing, a virtually monumental effort of will and control that Galina truly admired. Even caught in a bold lie, the spy continued blithely, unrepentantly, which told her all she needed to know concerning any further dealings with Goemon tonight.

He most certainly was not working alone aboard this ship - which was really only to be expected on a mission of this size and complexity. And what that meant, was that she would have to proceed with an excess of caution, no matter the ease and humor and undeniable charm Mr. Goemon exuded. Further, when she returned Klara to their state rooms after dinner, she would leave once more very well-armed, with her

kindjal

, her .45 Colt Model 1898 and all her formidable wits wrapped about her to the last.

"No, no I should far rather delay the transfer of Mr. Slevin to the ship for a day or so, than allow any engineer 'friends' - no matter how well-meaning they may appear to be. The fewer eyeballs to witness, the fewer tongues to wag later after all." Galina did not add, 'The fewer tongues to cut out later as well.' Such admonitions probably went without saying anyway, and at the very least Galina could project the appearance she still bought into the entirety of Goemon's scheme, exactly as he had laid it out.

"I mean to say, of course, if you do not mind my providing my own input into these well laid out plans of yours, after all. Please do forgive any unseemly forwardness on my part, Mr. Goemon," Galina crooned softly, her melodic voice turned gently soothing, and subtly demure.

God forgive her, but she was having a great deal of fun this evening...

[Derren Krenshaw]

"No apologies necessary, Miss Demidova, your input is more than welcome."

It was easy enough to say those words with genuine feeling. In any other scenario, at any other time, he truly would welcome her input on any mission that passed his way. She kept her gaze wide and missed no little detail, and he had no doubt that her age hid a wealth of experience that one would be foolish to underestimate. She seemed to be going along with him for now, and while that was all he really needed, it was still far too soon to relax.

Her softening voice was met by a charming smile and nod of Goemon's head... though he bore no illusions it would disarm her in the least.

"I agree with your thoughts there, an- Ah!" The main course was served, the waiter moving down their table with their plates, serving the good ladies first. Fish dominated the plates -Salmon or one of it's close relatives, if the orange flesh was any indication- a butter sauce dotted with capers and pepper glazing it's surface. A carefully arranged bed of greens pillowed one end of the fish, onion and cherry tomatoes nestled within it's leaves. A coarse, brown rice specked with slices of mushroom hugged the edge of the filet to complete the plate, everything looking just a little too much of this and too little of that for the Japanese spy.

"I suppose raw was too much to ask for..." He spoke up after the waiter had left, offering a slight bow towards the meal before looking over to Galina once more. "What is the term Americans have adopted? Bon Appet?"

[Igraine]

"Bon appetit, Monsieur Goemon."

There was no true correction in Galina's voice at all, merely a pleasant response to a pleasant dinner companion. She peered over a bit at Goemon's plate, noting the lovely piece of salmon resting there, glistening with savory butter and capers and the delectable twin to her own and Klara's.

"Although next time, I imagine if you wish your fish raw, all you need do is speak to the kitchen. Considering the price of the tickets for this cruise, the chefs should be more than willing to accommodate." A sweet, slow smile grew across her face and she winked quickly at her fellow spy, to reassure him she was only jesting.

At least in part.

Still smiling, Galina took a small, delicate bite of her salmon. Such elegantly cooked flesh should have tasted a touch sweet, rich with the butter sauce, savory even with a hint of tartness from the capers and the whole of altogether delicious. A shame really, that all her meal instantly turned to ashes on her tongue - and all for a word.

A single word, and Galina could feel the joy of the dangerous game she played with Goemon turn cold and suddenly unappealing, as if their good waiter had actually placed a plate of raw fish before her, instead of her erstwhile dinner companion.

Galina knew she ought to simply... Let this go. Quietly bite back her questions and wrap herself once more into the cool, collected shroud of unimpeachable professionalism. Goemon was already well aware she had something of the measure of him, she felt sure. She had the upper hand in this oh-so-courteous fencing match of words, and she damn well knew it. So what in heaven's name were these words that tripped off her lips, as if they had a life of their own?

"Americans, hmm?" Galina's dark eyes remained wide and disingenuous, her voice still sparkling with that sweet musicality that made every word a joy to the ear, no matter if she spoke a shopping list or poetry.

"Have you visited the United States much yourself then, Mr. Goemon?"

Klara's handsome, silver-haired head lifted from her own plate to give her dear young girl a quick, concerned glance, her brow suddenly furrowing with a worry she was nowhere near skilled enough to hide. Galina had not been near the same fiery spirit since her return from her last mission in America, subdued in truth, suddenly restless and then listless in turns. The elder woman had entertained a hope that this ocean cruise, even if it were to be combined with another mission, might have helped ease whatever melancholy fit had taken her. She was not pleased in the least to hear Galina speak of that place.

"I have," Galina continued, oblivious to Klara's expression or, in truth, to whatever might have crossed Goemon's face at that moment. Her gaze was entirely for her own plate as she slowly, almost thoughtfully, sliced another small bite from her salmon with her fork with the strangest of care.

"The last time was to San Jose, in California. I met one of your fellow countrymen there, at a party... He was a kind man, so very intelligent with a wonderful eye for artwork. Exceptional really." Galina smiled wistfully.

"I should have liked to have made his further acquaintance, though there was truly no chance at the time. Souma was his name." She played for a moment at that small piece of salmon with the tines of her fork, but did not actually spear it to lift to her lips. Instead she simply set the utensil back down to her plate and folded her hands lightly in her lap.

"Not, of course, that you should know every last one of your countrymen!" Galina laughed softly as her gaze turned toward Goemon. "Well, any more than I should ever last Russian, of course. So yes, please do forgive my meanderings there... Have you traveled much to America yourself then?"