14417/White Rook to Black Herald

White Rook to Black Herald
Date of Scene:	14 March 2023
Location:	Sixth Floor VIP Suites - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Richard Swift, Wilson Fisk

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Richard Swift has posed:
It was another night at the Hellfire Club. The VIP suites were quiet tonight, but there were people milling about. The theme was casual "red" with any "red themed" drink 1/2 off. The music was blues and jazz, as per the request of the Dark, well dressed, top hat wielding man in the back.

Richard Swift, the Shade, was present tonight. The shadows seem to love him as he drinks his wine, and watches as people do what they do in this instance. He was a voyeur, and tonight was a night like no other.

Wilson Fisk has posed:
The footfalls of Wilson Fisk are a telling portent of his arrival. Up the stairs he ascends. As he steps onto the third floor of the mansion, the floorboards give a slight creak, though they are normally silent. Hellstrike. Hellstrike. Cane tap. Repeat.

Fisk is the sort of man that has crowds part for him, and people slide around the boundaries of his immense frame. Tonight is no exception, as he comes dressed in a resplendent white tuxedo. A red rose (full size) serves as a suitable boutonniere for him, and picks up on the bold rest of his bow tie and cumberbund, strapped across his immense waist.

The paces still. The cane, capped with an enormous blood diamond, is held loosely in one hand. "Well, good evening Sir," comes the low rumble of Fisk's voice. Earthy and low, yet tinged with a working class New Yorkers' accent he's never been able to shake. His eyes pass over Richard Swife, and the Kingpin's thin lips stretch into a smile that rests uncomfortably on features more used to scowling. "Grand night, ain't it?"

Richard Swift has posed:
Richard Swift could hear the arrival of Fisk as he ascended the stairs. Sipping his wine, Shade's dark-grey eyes watches as the man himself made an appearance. Ah yes. The trademark white tuxedo. An interesting duality between the Shade's black tuxedo and Fisk's white tuxedo. It was, in a word, fascinating.

Allowing the shadows to subside for a few moments, the Shade allows himself to appear in the VIP Lounge. Sipping and watching. "It is a grand night indeed. sir. It is a pleasure to finally meet the infamous Kingpin. I am, of course, the Shade. Or as the environs of this place may call me, Richard Swift."

The Shade taps his cane against his top hat in a respectful salute. "May I have the staff bring you anything? You will find the wine cellar and the liquor cabinet well stocked. The first round is on me."

Wilson Fisk has posed:
Wilson Fisk watches the retreating shadows with a lifting of his eyes, circling them round before they fall back on the Shade himself. He offers a slow nod, everything about him tightly controlled. "Infamous?" he answers, tone making it a wavering protest. "Why I'm an upstanding member of the city. A job-provider. A resent the remark." Still, that broad smile persists, and he steps forward a little closer.

Creak. Creak. Tap.

"If you have a line on some staff, I'll have a bottle of Cote de Nuits. They've got a beautiful 1990 cellared here." The wine name rolls off the tongue, diction flawless, but for the rough chopping his accent gives the words. Unavoidable.

"And tell me, Mister Swift, what sort of business you're in."

Richard Swift has posed:
Moving a few steps forward, Swift takes another sip of his wine, and watches the man with a thoughtful expression. "Ah yes. Upstanding. Indeed. I stand corrected."

"I have also heard you are a man of refined tastes and sensibilities." That almost elicites a smile from the cold man in black.

Raising his right hand towards the staff, Shade nods, and says quietly, "1990 Cote de Nuits." The staff leaps to fill the need.

"Excellent choice." As the staff brings the requested wine. "Business? I am a man of similar refined tastes. My business is...acquiring rare items and artifacts for...re-sale as it were." A slight bow.

Wilson Fisk has posed:
Kingpin greets the acknowledgement of his true reputation with another incline of his head. It then turns, for a moment, so that he can watch the crisply-departing staff member, hastening to fill Shade's order. Not scurrying, no the help here wouldn't do that - but it is with a speed that borders on alarmed.

Kingpin turns back to the other man and lifts his brow slightly. "Well, what's the point of working hard to build an empire, if you're not wanting to live like an emperor?" he questions rhetorically, on the subject of tastes, permission and justification all rolled into one.

His focus sharpens then, and he notes, "I think we're flip sides of the same coin, Mister Swift. You provide items of quality to those of discriminating taste, and I cater to... well, a broader audience. Baser needs, I suppose. Sometimes an item of quality or two is swept up in it, but mine is a pyramid with a wide base. But you're quite right, at the top... well, I'd be interesting in knowing what kinds of goods you deal in."