11829/Page of Pentacles

Page of Pentacles
Date of Scene:	29 June 2022
Location:	Tessa's Suite - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	Marie-Ange Colbert divines Tessa's future, live and without a net.
Cast of Characters:	Tessa, Marie-Ange Colbert

---

Tessa has posed:
Now that she's in the employ of Sebastian Shaw, Marie-Ange Colbert will have to get used to working with a woman named Tessa Fox. Tessa is Shaw's right hand, who seems to know the man's affairs better than Shaw himself. She handles coordination, logistics, scheduling... so it's not /exceptionally/ strange when Tessa sends a message to Marie-Ange, requesting her presence at the Hellfire Club one night.

The strange part is, the message doesn't direct her to any of the offices, or Shaw's suite. It directs her to suite 640. This is Tessa's room.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
Marie-Ange, so far, has known Tessa largely from brief and polite encounters and emails. Marie-Ange has been able to carry herself like a lady, and while she has had questions here and there, they have typically been well considered, and in some cases rooted in ambiguity involving the simple fact that her English, though now fluent, is still distinctly a second language.

And in her original language, an invitation to one's private room...

Well, it can have many meanings. Even so, Marie-Ange, in her very small but very cozy apartment in a somewhat-less-astronomically-valuable patch of New York City, took pains to dress well to come here. A new crisp blouse, with short sleeves, in cream; a pencil skirt in black. Her hair was brushed out, contemplated, and finally tied up into a loose ponytail. Into her bag, the usual oddments, including one of the more familiar decks of the cards. (Never be caught without them.) From this point on, the subway was unremarkable. And now --

At door 640, Marie-Ange tap-taps. "M'me Fox?" she calls, lightly, before pausing with a moment of frowning. The doors here are such solid wood. Should she shout? Or text?

Tessa has posed:
Tessa's encounters are exceedingly polite, and her emails are as precise as laser etching. It invites a very strange dynamic, because Tessa gives very little sense that she exists at all outside of her work. She doesn't engage Marie-Ange about hobbies, about her life, about her hopes or dreams or anything of the sort. She confirms routing numbers for direct deposit and indicates which forms Marie-Ange needs to return in order to complete her onboarding for the 401k.

Tessa was also the one who presented Marie-Ange with a set of non-disclosure agreements which, collectively, were as long as the Bible. At the very least, that time Tessa offered Marie a tip on investing in crypto. (It boiled down to "don't, it's rigged, I know because I help rig it").

The door opens, and Tessa invites Marie-Ange in. "Miss Colbert. Welcome. Please come in."

Inside, the space is of a piece with the louche luxury that the rest of the Club prizes. At the same time, there's something utilitarian about it. It's as though it has all the signifiers of faux-Victorian decadence without actually being decadent itself. Very post-modern.

Tessa herself is wearing most of the uniform of the Hellfire Club. Her hair is done up in an immaculate Victorian bun, and she wears a royal purple choker around her neck. Accompanying it, in similar purple, are her corset, thong, and thigh-high leather boots. Absent: her cloak, her gloves.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation. Would you care for anything to drink?"

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
In the past, regarding Cryptocurrency:

"Even Doopcoin?" Marie-Ange had asked, eyes wide. (Marie-Ange holds 190 Doopcoinz. This was apparently not a matter entirely of her choosing.)

But here and now: Marie-Ange dips her head and makes something like a slight curtsey. "Thank you, madame," she says, before coming inside. There's something about the ambiance that makes her look round -- but the subtle precision is hard to quite *intuit*, and so she tries, for the largest part, to avoid gazing too overtly upon Tessa's costume. "I would adore one, ma'am," she continues. "A mineral water if you have it to hand? A bit of juice would be fine as well."

She has absolutely gotten champagne off trays at open events, but it has always had the air of sneaking something. Usually only one each; no real prediliction to alcoholism.

Tessa has posed:
Tessa walks to the refrigerator. In her costume, it makes the completely mundane act seem strangely theatrical. Someone opening a fridge to fetch a mineral water is a totally normal thing, but here, in this atmosphere, in that costume, it becomes something borderline alien, completely separated from workaday existence.

Tessa takes out two bottles of water: sleek, aesthetically pleasing tubes of Voss Artesian Water, a luxury brand from Norway. She offers one to Marie-Ange after closing the distance between them.

"I've asked you here tonight because of the services that you render for Mister Shaw," Tessa explains. "Specifically, the... extremely /specialized/ services that accompany your readings. Having observed several of them," which is a dead giveaway that Marie-Ange has been filmed, since Tessa wasn't present for any of them, "I have concluded that you are not a cold-reading charlatan. This intrigues me."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
That precise, constrained motion makes Marie-Ange watch with a peculiarly *small* feeling. It seems artificial, yet it has poise to it. Her arms fold loosely before herself as Tessa bends over, and she wonders, did I just hear the leather creak? But then the beverage is brought out, and the tube of water rests with glassy solidity in her hand. "Merci," she says, opening it and taking a sip. A slow sip... for there is skepticism at hand.

Marie-Ange swallows. She takes a deep breath and looks up, to meet Tessa's eyes - needing to look slightly upwards in the process. "Your skepticism is... entirely understandable, and I know that the cards are enigmatic, and enigmatic too in a way that goes against the strictures of Reason. Do please go on, I am not bothered..." (She absolutely is bothered, but in a controlled, piqued way.)

Tessa has posed:
Tessa has hazel eyes that belong firmly to the uncanny valley. She's very much real, and very much flesh and blood, but the way that she stares gives her an almost supernaturally Stepford Wife quality. Her mannerisms, tone of voice, even to what degree she smiles are all completely calculated. She's the apotheosis of Customer Service, the Platonic ideal of How Can I Help You Today, the zenith of emails that begin with 'Hey team.'

What's strange about Tessa, what might spark that little bit of cognitive dissonance, is that Tessa is so transparently artificial in all of this, and yet she's so good at it that it comes back around to maybe feeling genuine. She knows exactly how to be that pinnacle of Customer Service because she knows what stimuli get people to respond. It's hard not to trust Tessa, even while she's so clearly Stepforded out.

"I wouldn't call my interest 'skepticism,'" Tessa says as she opens her own artisanal water-tube. She motions toward the sofa, in front of a coffee table that probably cost more than the average car. "Please. Sit with me."

Once she's seated, Tessa continues. "My interest is in the practicalities of your services. To wit, is it magic? Is it an innate superhuman ability? Is it some combination thereof? You're clearly not sitting in front of a Ouija board and assigning cosmic importance to the results of your body's ideomotor effect."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
This intense level of performance, driven as perfectly pitched as it is, is strangely intimidating to Marie-Ange; something about it is *alluring* at the same time that it is *revolting*, and there is a certain halo effect, or perhaps a negative halo, to a girl who came up through the sort of boarding schools that grade you on 'deportment'.

The perfection she has not reached. And may never. "Oh, certainly," Marie-Ange says, and she does sit, in a rustle of fabric, grasping her water firmly with both hands as she does. After another sip, she swallows, again with that subtle... effort. There is in fact a second smaller sip, as if her mouth went dry. "That is a very good question," Marie-Ange admits. "It is hard for me to say."

"What I know is that I was taught to read the cards when I was quite small, and I had discovered that I was... very accurate; I would be inclined to say, perfectly so, but I must allow that there is always room for a certain, er, creativity of interpretation? If this makes sense. I must admit that could be the case," but she doesn't really *believe* it. "My grandmother, she remarked upon it even then, although she was, er, pleased, not -- upset, you understand. At the time it was more along the lines of 'will it be sunny or cloudy tomorrow,' 'where have I left my doll,' matters like that."

Tessa has posed:
"Would you be willing to perform a reading for me?" Tessa asks. She's forthright with the question, but her tone of voice is still so... perfect. There's really no other word for it, which makes it all the more alienating in its own weird way. It preys on human psychology while also vaguely coming across as something more than, or at least separate from, human.

"I would of course compensate you for your time and effort." Tessa rests one hand on her the bare skin of her thighs, and uses the other to hold her water. She has a pleasant smile to match her Very Friendly tone of voice.

"There's an unopened deck in the drawer of the end table next to you," Tessa says. "I took the gamble that you don't require any proprietary decks." The deck is a rare, out-of-print collector's item. If Marie-Ange is the type to nerd out over individual decks, this is one worth nerding out over: The Tarocco Storico della Citta Di Ferrara, a limited-edition Italian deck with richly colored, precisely detailed artwork by Amerigo Folchi. The names of the cards are listed in both Italian and English. The box of the deck appears pristine and untouched.

"I was thinking the five-card 'success spread,' as it's called, to attempt to divine what lies ahead for me in my stewardship of the Hellfire Club. Success? Disaster? Both?" Tessa's smile spreads into a grin. "You can keep the deck. A gift."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"Oh, absolutely," Marie-Ange says without really thinking. She would probably do a reading for a dog. She probably HAS done a reading for a dog.

She takes in a deeper breath as Tessa shifts near her, letting it outwards. She returns that Very Pleasant Smile, with her own smile, significantly lower in case. She blinks several times, and then she says, "Ah - that is true, although I will need to shuffle it a few times to get the feel - I say this only so that you are fully informed before I do anything, of course." She shifts the bag on her shoulder off of it and leans over, opening the desk drawer and saying --

"Mon dieu!"

The box is brought out. Marie-Ange's mouth is very slightly agape. She opens it, hands not quite trembling but certainly thinking about it. "Oh, ah - yes, certainly - of course." The box is opened, the cards brought out - fondled, for a wonder, for a moment - and then given a single solid riffle-shuffle on Marie-Ange's knee before she begins more conventionally swishing the cards, 'getting a feel' one might presume. She pauses to look at the Queen of Wands for a moment, as it is the bottom card on the deck at that precise moment.

"Would you prefer that I stay here, besides you, or move to the - other side of the table?" Marie-Ange asks. (The Voss bottle has been re-closed and set down next to her ankle, perhaps to avoid getting any drips on that immaculate coffee table. Marie-Ange has the sense it is more valuable than she; but she gets that, if gradually less, at the Club.)

Tessa has posed:
"Does it make a difference?" Tessa asks. "You are the practitioner, I am the observer. I'll trust your judgment in where you and I should be sitting." That winning smile is still there. She crosses her legs, and yes, the leather does very faintly creak when the inside of one knee curls over the outer bend of the other.

"Do you mind if I put on some music?" Tessa reaches over for her phone. The phone is sitting on an end table on the /other/ side of the couch. It looks like the kind of smartphone that one might expect to see in the military or something. It's top of the line (of COURSE) but it also has a case that honestly looks a bit like the phone could be shot with a tank shell and maybe come away mostly intact.

Tessa deftly unlocks the phone with a few swipes of her thumb, and taps away at it. She does this thing where she flicks a screen upward with her thumbtip and it starts whizzing by quickly, too quickly to really read, and then she stops it exactly where she wants it to be, no adjustments needed. A familiar horn fanfare begins to emit from the surround-sound speakers, at a volume that's enough to be present, but not enough to overwhelm.

"Mussorgsky," Tessa explains as she sets her phone back down. "'Pictures at an Exhibition.' Fritz Reiner conducting the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in 1957. For my money, this is still the best recording of the piece yet put to tape."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"... Ah; hm," Marie-Ange says about the question. Another riffle-shuffle on her knee, and some more card-tossing. She could probably deal blackjack even if this tarot thing turns out to be a bluff. "Mm," she continues, before saying, "Oh, no, please, go right ahead."

Her eyes flick over towards Tessa's hands (and by extension thighs, knees, et cetera) as she maneuvers the sound to begin to play. Marie-Ange smiles at the recognition of the tune, and then says, "Oh! Really? Quelle precision," she says, before clearing her throat: "That is to say, how precise... Do you compare such recordings often?"

Marie-Ange does another deep breath and rises up then, to walk to the other side of the table. The reason why this appears to have been hesitant to her is because, inevitably, she ends up kneeling -- which she has no physical issues doing, but... well; either way, she raises her head and sets the deck down. "I would ask you, since these are new and I wish to ensure that the, ah, imprint is good. Please grasp the deck, state your query in your own words as precisely as you can, and then cut the deck - and then I shall read."

Tessa has posed:
"Je parle francais," Tessa says, and continues in the Gallic mode. "<We can continue the conversation in your mother tongue, if you like. But, yes, I do compare recordings. How does one not?>" Tessa flashes a wry grin.

Tessa picks up the deck when Marie-Ange bids her to do so, and spends a long moment considering her question. "Does success or calamity await the Hellfire Club?"

The Hellfire Club, and by extension, Tessa Fox.

She cuts the cards, and then holds them out toward Marie-Ange.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
"<Oh! If it won't put you out,>" replies Marie-Ange -- and the rest of what she says slips into natural if not indeed slightly posh-prissy French, the subtitles invisibly disappearing -- so to speak.

Marie-Ange deals the cards out. The Magician, the inverted Five, the upright Knight and Four, the reversed Eight. "It certainly is an affluent future come what may, given this," Marie-Ange comments, before settling back on her heels. Several deep breaths. Mussorgsky fills the air. Marie-Ange wonders if she can smell the leather or if it is simply the new cards.

"So," Marie-Ange says, "we begin with the Magician. It is interesting that he should appear here, for this first card represents the unconscious - things which are blocking you off, or alternatively preventing you from doing what must needs be done. An unusual posture for such a generative position. And!"

The second card. "The risk that you must take right now. In its unfavorable aspect, the Five of Pentacles is in fact favorable; it represents an end to the bad times it augurs, or indicates the persistence of, mm, a sort of more spiritual poverty. So as we have it so far, I believe it speaks to your question, and perhaps in your role as steward, you feel or fear you have had a certain lack... or it is the risk of peril, of failure, that clings to you."

She looks up, clearly seeking approval even if she probably doesn't consciously think that.

Tessa has posed:
Tessa's French is as precise as her English. When she speaks, she sounds like she's a native speaker, but in a weirdly non-specific way. She has no regional accent, no dialect that would mark her as coming from one culture or another, no hint of where she might have learned the language. She speaks French like a computer speaks French, albeit without the literalism that handicaps Google Translate.

When Marie-Ange looks to Tessa, Tessa is looking at the cards. She's staring into them like the patterns in the drawings or the grain of the paper holds some sort of secret for her to unlock. She looks up and over at Marie-Ange, and her expression offers... nothing.

No approval. No disapproval. She looks neutral to a point that her core humanity might be briefly called into question. She has a sip of her Norwegian artisan mineral water, and then shifts effortlessly from neutrality into a natural, charming smile. "Please, Miss Colbert, continue."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
Marie-Ange finds her heart pounding. There is a horrible sense that she is failing, that she is falling into a hole now. That Tessa is finding her decidedly lacking. She trembles; she strives not to sweat, aided by the Hellfire Club's impeccable HVAC systems.

She continues.

"Here we have the Knight of Pentacles. This position indicates your conscious thoughts and the feelings which you accept that you have about your current situation, and it is influenced by the Magician - and the two are rather complimentary, as the Knight speaks of one who is willing to put in the work, as they say, to do the effort. A conservative pace, unhurried, willing to assess. To think and to reason. Some would call this dull, and perhaps it is not flashy or dramatic, but the Knight of Pentacles, as Msr. Miranda wrote, gets the job done."

"In this position, the position of your environment, you are in a place of security and conservatism. Control; perhaps even scarcity. A guarded position, which I believe suits the role that you have described. And then, finally, our fifth card - the Eight of Pentacles, yet reversed. See how the workman here is carving the coins? He has separated himself for the sake of perfectionism. And he is what you must overcome - THIS is the thing that determines the answer to your query, shall you bring <<success>> or <<calamity>> to the Hellfire Club."

"It's really a little paradoxical, isn't it?" says Marie-Ange, settling back and looking at Tessa proper. A pause, perhaps, before analysis.

Tessa has posed:
Tessa's smile has faded, and she's returned to what might be her default expression. She's once again placid and neutral, an expression that's as clear as an unmuddied lake and yet as obscure as clouds in the night sky.

"I see," Tessa says. Her eyes are still on the cards, though she's listening to Marie-Ange quite intently. The Mussorgsky is just a background detail.

Tessa's eyes again flick upward, train upon Marie-Ange. "You have explained the individual pieces, Miss Colbert. Is there anything to be said about the complete picture that they represent in unison?"

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
Marie-Ange feels an urge to cross herself. She suppresses it; Jesus is not interested in this kind of trouble, she is reasonably sure.

Letting out another warm breath, Marie-Ange says, "Let me consider a moment... it's complicated..."

Oh, God, she's going to slap me, Marie-Ange thinks, with a squirming feeling in the seat of her stomach. Was this a set-up? No! Even if it was, I can't simply melt into goo on this fine carpet. I should die on my feet, metaphorically so.

"This is a rather broad question, given that we address multiple parts. I will say that sometimes a simpler reading is better for simpler questions, but be that as it may..."

"I would say that you may feel a, mm, a protectiveness over what you have been given authority over, and that this has led to control which is perhaps beyond the return on investment. This is not to say you should not keep control, but if you are putting so many hours into control, in perfection, perhaps that can be, so many minus ten or twenty percent... I speak in a broad analogy, Madame Fox, I do not know your routines..."

Breathe in, breathe out. "This time that is freed should then be used to look outwards; because your determination, this very... conservatism, authority, that you have, will I think mean that if you should seek to explore new realms, or new forms of growth for the Club, you will be in a perfect condition to do so in a measured manner which will reap the most benefits. As they say, <<only fools rush in>> and you are no fool, this I can tell you for certain. But it is possible to control risk, and perhaps there is room for more, along the theory of <<nothing ventured, nothing gained.>>"

She stops there. (Her hands fold in front of her face, as if to make a namaste gesture. This also hides chewing on her lower lip. She wishes she'd used flavored lip gloss. At least it would be a distraction.)

Tessa has posed:
Tessa does not slap Marie-Ange. Instead, she unscrews the top of her water-tube and has a sip.

Tessa sits in silence for a long time. It's not /really/ a long time. It most certainly /feels/ like a long time. She looks away from Marie-Ange, toward the cards, and is completely quiet. Her leather doesn't even creak. Perhaps Marie-Ange could be forgiven if her imagination tells her that she's hearing the subtle whirring of a computer's hard disk thinking.

Tessa then screws the top on her water bottle, without looking at Marie-Ange still.

"Miss Colbert."

Tessa's turn toward the Frenchwoman is deliberate in its slowness. Is the Black Herald of the Hellfire Club attempting to milk the drama of the moment for everything that it's worth? Does she smell Marie-Ange's fear? She stares into the other woman's eyes for a moment that's shorter than her silent contemplation, and yet somehow feels longer.

"I believe that you are completely correct."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
Breathe in. Breathe out.

For a moment Marie-Ange thinks of the Hanged Man; oh! How he must feel in moments like this. Or justice itself. She chews on the inside of her lip a little more. Tension is shivering through her, clicking back and forth like the kinetic motion of a desk toy. Breathe steadily, she tells herself. You will be safe; you will be fine. In the uttermost...

You can protect yourself, Marie-Ange tells herself, with a certain wavering note of (if you think you HAVE to... really...)

And then Tessa grasps her eyes. She stares into glass-smooth perfection. And...

Her shoulders sag, visibly if not *drastically*. "Oh," she says, "I'm so glad - to hear, I am glad that is to say, that it was helpful -- if you would care to take a photo of the spread, I have found that can be convenient later..."

Tessa has posed:
"Not necessary," Tessa says. "I will remember." She says this as if it was an unquestionable fact, like asserting that the sky is blue or that water is wet.

Then Tessa smiles. She shifts out of her serious blankness and back into that Very Friendly how-can-I-help-you tonality. She has the precision of a brain surgeon. Her voice, her smile, her body language, even her blink rate are calculate to lull Marie-Ange into a sense of security, the same way a hypnotist speaks at a certain cadence to lull their marks into going under.

"You don't need to be nervous, Miss Colbert. If I thought that your services would be unsatisfactory, I would not have engaged them in the first place." Tessa's smile brightens into a grin. "Is it my attire? I can put on a robe."

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
There is a sag backwards into a quasi-seiza as Marie-Ange lets out breath she didn't know she was holding. "Well, then! As you wish," she says, reaching for the cards -- and pausing instead to reach for her water, opening it and nearly draining it, then letting the cards lay where they are spread for a moment. Her atteniton goes back to Tessa; she has not yet risen from the floor.

The grin makes her finally blush and smile back, eyes half lowering. "Oh! I am a guest, and it isn't as if you're - immodest or anything. I admit it is a little shocking even nowadays, but it's simply gorgeous, too; so please, ah, do not worry!" NOW she gathers the cards up, placing them into their box with reverence.

Tessa has posed:
Tessa remains seated, legs crossed. One hand shifts to rest palm-down on her knee. "This is part of the uniform of the Hellfire Club," Tessa says. "Normally I would also be wearing gloves and a cloak. Of course, the general membership of the Club aren't required to wear such attire, but... you've been around enough places like this to understand that 'general' membership is always only the beginning, yes?"

Tessa's tone is warm, reassuring, encouraging. She wants Marie-Ange to feel comfortable. "I'd be happy to give you a proper tour sometime, and answer any questions that you might have. Perhaps I should have asked of the cards: 'Is the Hellfire Club where Marie-Ange Colbert will seize opportunity?'" Tessa lifts her brows, her smile bright.

Marie-Ange Colbert has posed:
The flush remains even as Marie-Ange says, with a sort of laugh, "Oh, that would look spectacular. Yes, I understand, I just haven't ever - I mean, unless you include a swimsuit. It's beautiful, though! I'm really quite envious." A pause them. A hesitation. Her mouth opens -- but then she is helpfully guided... and she is already shuffling the cards. "Brilliant," she says. Shuffle, shuffle, riffle, shuffle (she's being very delicate with these - in so far as you can shuffle cards delicately anyway) - and then she says, "This is a good simple one, I find, just two cards--"

Plap, plap.

Marie-Ange coughs into the back of her hand. "Oh," she says. "Well! I, hm. W-well, I would say it's certainly a 'Yes,'" she says, staring at the cards with only occasional glances upwards.

Tessa has posed:
When Marie-Ange glances upward, Tessa's smile has changed, subtly. It radiates the approval that Tessa could sense the younger woman seeking, as warm as the summer sun.