682/Historical Data

Historical Data
Date of Scene:	22 March 2020
Location:	This scene occurs across various locations and times.
Synopsis:	Tessa looks back on her life and relationship with one Sebastian Shaw.
Cast of Characters:	Sebastian Shaw, Tessa

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Sebastian Shaw has posed:
OCTOBER 23, 2009 -- A Private Airfield outside the city of Samara, in Russia.

The dueling scents of blood and gunfire still linger heavy in the air. The occasional pained moan that breaks the now almost eerie silence is soon answered with a short burst of gunfire from the strange-looking soldiers that less than a few minutes ago descended from the hangar's skylights, laying waste to several of the bodyguards of the late Oleg Pushkin, until a few moments ago the most feared mob boss in this region. Oleg himself lays sprawled face-up, sightless eyes staring to the ceiling and a trickle of blood having fallen from the corner of his mouth...his chest has been caved in. The strange soldiers killed many, but not all...not even most.

The Man in the Black Suit had stood and smiled when Oleg's bodyguards opened fire. He did close his eyes, but the smile never left his face. Well over a hundred bullets must have struck him, and yet he simply stood...the bullets making a chiming noise as they pooled at his feet on the concrete floor. And then he had moved, and the killing had started. He had done it with his bare hands, moving almost faster than the eye could follow, hurling men across the length and breadth of the hangar, crushing their bones or caving in chests and skulls with casual ease. While there was skill behind the attacks, far more so there was raw power. A rather savage display, all things considered, particularly from one who had appeared sophisticated and cultured but moments before.

And now the Man in Black stands before her, having hurled away the large metal-and-wood desk that she had taken shelter behind during the gunfire, with little more than a flick of one arm. Ice-blue eyes regard her cooly, but intently...and there is no longer the glint of intermingled rage and glee that was present during the fight. There is, perhaps, a sense of satisfaction...and now both curiousity and amusement starting to filter in.

"Well well, who do we have here?"

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa knew exactly how long she had been here. She could give you the days, hours, minutes and seconds if you wanted, but her... employers didn't much care to hear her speak unless commanded. The beautiful pale woman is dressed in little more than rags, and had kneeled beside Oleg meekly, speaking into his ear every time he gestured at her.
    She was... odd. The whole meeting, she never quite looked away from Shaw, her hazel eyes locked on him. Ever since she came her, Oleg had spoken from a position of power and advantage, and used Tessa's talents to enhance it. He believed he was doing so now. But Tessa saw clearly, in every mannerism, in every gesture, in his perfect confidence. Shaw was going to eat Oleg alive, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
    So she began to speak... falsely. And every time she spoke to Oleg, his next action would weaken his standing. He would get more and more rattled, and call upon her more and more. Until finally, in his scrambling attempts to save face, he had revealed something... unforgivable about his actions, and his intentions with Shaw's resources.
    In a panic, Oleg had summoned his bodyguards to simply remove Shaw and deal with the consequences. He had dragged Tessa away.
    He was in the process of squeezing the life out of her throat when his life ended rather messily, and Tessa hid behind a tipped over table.
    When the noise finally died down, Tessa was curled into a ball, forehead against her knees, just keeping hopefully below any flying bullets, when she heard Shaw's voice. Her eyes opened wide, and she looked up at him for a long moment, before scrambling onto her hands and knees.
    <Please> she croaks in Russian, her voice hoarse from Oleg's final attempt to punish her, <I did not mean any harm. I did not know that he would panic so badly.> Truthfully, she'd guessed it was possible, but you can't perfectly predict how someone would react in a panic, and Oleg had never been in that position before. <... Please do not kill me.>
    Her speech is odd. She's breathing heavily, and her heart is pounding, but outwardly there's little sign of emotion on her face. It's as if her pleas for mercy are merely a practical attempt to preserve her own life, rather than any direct fear reaction, despite what she's just witnessed.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
<You haven't given me any reason to kill you.> The Man in the Black Suit, which is now riddled with bullet holes, quirks a faint smile as he responds in fluent, if not quite native-speaker level Russian. The sudden use of Russian is a surprise...he hadn't been speaking that language before, or given any indication he knew it, letting Oleg's translator do the talking.

His eyes narrow, and her keen powers of observation can practically see the wheels spinning in his head, <It was you, wasn't it? I thought it might have been the translator somehow, but you were the one whispering after he translated everything I said.> Shaw considers, <You led him astray. Every time you spoke to him he proceeded to dig another few inches of his own grave.>

He's silent a moment, then simply asks, "Why?" English this time.

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa's eyes flicker upward when she hears her own language from this man's mouth, her lips pressing into a thin line. She knows immediately that he never truly needed an interpreter. For all her analysis, she now understands that the man was, if anything, making himself appear weaker than he actually was. Granted, the bullet holes alone attest to that. The armed men around them probably need not have been there at all.
    She slowly looks up, chest heaving with short, heavy little breaths as her adrenaline continues to pump through her veins, even though her face betrays little other than, perhaps, curiosity... and a certain resignation. She doesn't *actually* know if she's getting out of here alive. She just knows she had an acceptable chance compared to the future that was waiting for her.
    She holds the man's gaze for a long moment before simply saying, in accented English, "Because he was already dead. Because he was going to drag us all to death and poverty trying to take advantage of you. Because of what he would have done to me in the process."
    There is a brief pause, and the faintest furrowing of her brow. "... And because I hated him very much."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Shaw listens intently to her words, his face betraying little in the way of any sort of emotion, just cold calculation. Not the same variety as Tessa of course, but calculation nonetheless. The language turns back to Russian, <He took your advice but he reduced you to...> He gestures, emphasizing her sorry state without words. He doesn't ask why this time, but instead takes a different tack, <You are...gifted. That made you valuable but less than human in their eyes.> Not really a question so much as observation.

<Stand up. You are not an animal.>

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa is close to skin-and-bones, underfed, and baring the marks of poor treatment. She says nothing as Shaw accurately summarizes her situation, though her eyes do cast downward slightly. She's gotten this far... compartmentalizing distracting and unpleasant emotions, and several of the positive ones that lead her astray in this situation. But she seems to have learned a certain meekness, for now.
    Her gaze, however, is still intense as she looks back up to Shaw upon hearing his command, giving the odd impression that she's seeing something that others can't. She doesn't answer with words, but she slowly rises to her feet, grunting once softly with effort and swallowing hard through a throat that still feels like its being compressed, folding her arms across her stomach. As composed, controlled, and seemingly uncaring as Shaw is, she can not easily read his intentions, and says, softly, <... Sir?> in her native language.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
<What is your name?> Shaw asks, quite simply, his eyes still studying hers quite intently, searching, but for the moment there is no indication of impending violence.

Tessa has posed:
    A mouse standing in front of a lion; weakened flesh standing before an unbreakable wall, she looks up at him and evenly says, <Tessa. ... Just Tessa.>

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"Hm. Just Tessa. We'll have to do something about that." A decision appears to have been made, a hand extends to Tessa, palm up, and he notes, <In a few moments my men will be setting incendiary charges to burn this place to the ground. You may leave under your own power, and no harm will come to you. Or you can come with me. Choose quickly.> There's no indication he's lying, but as relatively inscrutable as he is, it's not impossible he's lying about the "no harm" bit. Besides, Tessa living and all those others dying might...leave behind a lot of questions.

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa is having difficulty reading Shaw, and by proxy, a tremendous amount of difficulty understanding him, for now. It's a rare feeling, and makes her feel somewhat lost.
    But the offer is perfectly easy to understand.
    Tessa doesn't hesitate.
    She takes his hand.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
NOVEMBER 20, 2009 -- An apartment in Manhattan.

"Here we are."

Sebastian Shaw opens the door for Tessa to step into the furnished apartment. It has been a few weeks since Tessa escaped her horrid living situation in Russia. She has learned English in a matter of days. Perhaps not perfect fluency yet, but that is likely only a few more days away. She has been fed, clothed, rested, but mostly confined to a servant's quarters apartment on the Shaw Estate, until today. Shaw has visited with her daily, to check on her progress and confer with those that he has placed in charge of tutoring and caring for her. Some days it's only a few minutes. Others he is there for hours, actively taking part in the lessons. She has seen some glimpses into his world...she briefly met his father...an unpleasant, angry man, but he did not cause her any trouble. When she saw Sebastian and his father together she saw the first crack in Shaw's controlled demeanor...a rage boiling beneath the surface that the elder Shaw seems unaware or uncaring of. Today Shaw has brought her into the city.

"This will be your home, for the time being." Sebastian notes. It is larger and more well-appointed than the servant's quarters. "A car will arrive for you at 7:00 AM every morning and take you to your lessons. You will learn...everything you need. I have every hope that it will be a very swift process, given your progress with our language." He adds, "Food, more clothing, and a modest stipend will be provided." He produces a small folder and hands it towards her, "And you will need these."

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa steps into the room - dressed modestly now and looking passably human! The gauntness is gone from her cheeks and there's meat on her bones now; albeit not quite enough to to stop worrying a doctor just yet. She has taken to her lessons with absolute, seemingly perfect focus. It's as if once the basics are explained to her clearly, the rest comes almost intuitively. She shows... a remarkable amount of potential, and though she's been cautious in her private meetings with Shaw, she has been open and honest, if... inexpressive. Not disengaged, just... controlled. She was perfectly polite to Shaw's father, speaking only when spoken to. But where usually she might see opportunity in the cracks finally exposed in Shaw's demeanor, the conclusion she came to was... she rather disliked his father.
    That said, one can read surprise in her eyes when she sees her new furnishings. Compared to what she's used to, it's the absolute height of luxury - if anything there's TOO MUCH space - and for all the way her brain works, she's still a very young woman and feels a bit overwhelmed. She's working on compartmentalizing that too, but the last few weeks have been... a lot to take in.
    "It's... perfect, sir." She hesitates, "... It's wonderful. Thank you." Her voice still flat despite the sentiment, though there's more depth to her feelings in her eyes than in her voice when she turns to look at you. Hearing her instructions she nods, "... That won't be a problem."
    She takes the folder and immediately opens it curiously, finding a passport, birth certificate, a social security card, all fake but for the picture in a photo ID. She looks through the name on all of them and gently asks, "... Fox?" and looks up at Shaw curiously.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"Yes, Tessa. You are now Tessa Fox. A refugee from Kosovo who became a naturalized American Citizen." Is it fake? Well...technically yes. But equally technically for a man of Shaw's resources and flexible morality, they may be fake, but almost entirely legitimate. He gestures grandly, "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life, as it were."

He moves to open the blinds of a window, allowing sunlight to brighten the room. "A temporary arrangement while you are studying and training. After those are completed to my satisfaction we will likely see you moved somewhere closer to where you will be working."

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa nods once softly. "... Tessa Fox." She repeats softly, as if getting used to the sound of it. She blinks sharply and averts her eyes for the moment as the light pours in through the window, but then looks outside at the view - a thousand times more magnificient than anything she saw in her wartorn home and her time in servitude, and finds herself gently hugging the now-closed folder to her chest, taking in a deep slow breath.
    Tessa had done her best to explain the way her mind worked to Shaw. Even she didn't understand it completely, though she could accurately describe the 'what' even if not the why apart from that she was a freak. She had to be gently corrected with the term Mutant, which was new to her.
    So she's not at all surprised by the mention of working - of course you don't get something for nothing. Of course her skills would be used by someone else. It's only natural. But can she really be worth all of this? She couldn't be that unique. Could she?
    Slowly she steps beside Shaw, still holding that folder to her chest. She's run a few risk assessments. It would definitely be better not to poke at this, given how well it's going. But she's young, and curiosity's a well known killer. But before she asks, she's smart enough to preface it with: "... Please don't misunderstand me, sir. What you've done for me is..." she hesitates, "... so much more than I ever imagined." She looks at him, hazel eyes a bit wider than normal, even if her voice is still somewhat flat, "... But I don't understand... Why are you doing this? I'm... no one."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Shaw cants his head curiously, listening to her question with no sign of anger, but a touch of curiosity, "Interesting." Whatever it is he finds interesting isn't precisely voiced before he answers her question though, "You have a remarkable gift, Tessa. Your previous...employer...wasted it on whatever petty schemes he played out in that miserable excuse for a "kingdom."" He looks at her more intently, "I believe you have great potential, Tessa, and I intend to see you realize it. My own mutant gifts may be powerful...perhaps almost literally earth shaking some day. But yours...applied properly...can change it in a thousand tiny ways that one day add up to a grand tapestry. We live in an age where information and data are the most prized currencies of all, and you, my dear, are born to play a part in guiding that age. Practically tailor made, really. Or you will be by the time your training is done."

Sebastian smiles about as brightly as she's seen from him yet, "I know an unpolished gem when I see it, and you, my dear, may not shine in such a way that the world will stand in awe, but you will be magnificent in your own unique way."

He adds, "And besides, I just told you. You are not "no one." You are Tessa Fox."

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa listens quietly, but the more he speaks, the softer her expression gets; her eyes widening slowly. It's not too much of a stretch to say that no one has ever truly valued Tessa in her entire life. She went from being mouth to feed, to an undesirable freak, to a poorly maintained tool. She has never sincerely been complimented, much less... made to feel...
    Important?
    Could she really be important? To anyone?
    Could she really matter?
    It was, perhaps, the first time Tessa truly thought of herself in personal terms, and wasn't just a strange existence floating through a terrible world. And for the first time... not for the last time, but as rare and precious as a shooting star, naked emotion plays at Tessa's face, even as she tries to fight it back, her eyes watering up as she sniffles softly, holding the folder tight to her chest.
    "M-Mr. Shaw...!" She stammers, her voice cracking softly. She covers her mouth with one hand for a moment, and squeezes her eyes shut, oddly uncomfortable and mortified to feel this happy, but happy nonetheless. When her hand falls away, she's somewhat more composed, the faintest smile on her lips, though her eyes still glisten as she softly says, "... I won't let you down, sir."
    Tessa Fox, she thinks to herself; and puts that in a place of prominence in her unique, labyrinthine mind.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
SEPTEMBER 03, 2012 -- Hiram Shaw's Manhattan Penthouse

Sebastian Shaw stands on the edge of the roof, the wind and rain tearing at him, though he remains unmoving saving for the heaving of his shoulders as he takes in deep breaths. He watched that bastard all the way down, unable, unwilling to look away. He really didn't NEED to have killed him. He had already destroyed him. Stolen his company right out from under him, claimed his birthright and then some whether he liked it or not. He had the backing of the Circle, thanks to his partnership with Lex Luthor and Winston Frost. He could have let Hiram linger in bitterness and obscurity for the remainder of his life. But he didn't.

And through these past few whirlwind months, ever by his side has been his new "assistant" Tessa...and this is no different. She was there when the argument began. She was there when Hiram began to strike at Sebastian with a fireplace poker...watched Hiram's growing horror as those strikes did nothing. Heard him plead and beg with his son as he was carried to the roof like a helpless child...and heard him scream all the way down.

Shaw's hands go to his thighs and he leans over, for a half-moment looking as though he's going to pitch over the side as well (not that it would harm him when he landed...might make for a very inconvenient spectacle though).

Rain and wind wash away the unbidden tears of rage and long-suppressed hatred, now given free reign, but the sound that comes from Shaw is not sobbing, but a ragged sort of laugh...disbelief and triumph all in one.

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa had served diligently from the moment she was allowed. Though not perfect with etiquette, her natural introverted disposition and her willingness to learn kept her out of trouble most of the time. And she was getting better at it. It's hard to say if Shaw's father's claim on his power would have lasted much longer even without the girl he'd largely ignored while she stood by, largely malnourished and insignificant... but Tessa has become very adept at greasing the wheels on these matters.
    Now older, healthy, dressed professionally, hair styled fetchingly and wearing glasses to correct her sight, Tessa moved out of the way quickly when things turned violent. Shaw did not need her physical protection under any circumstances, and - while shows of violence once frightened her, and still can to an extent, she finds them... interesting.
    Nostalgic, almost.
    When Shaw stands alone, she gives him a moment, watching everything going through his body language with interest and a level of analysis she can't turn off. And perhaps... concern. She steps out into the rain, quickly getting as soaked as Shaw as she stands before him, carrying an umbrella which she only opens with a quick pull when she's close enough that the parasol extends directly over Shaw, protecting him from the worst of the downpour, filling the air with the muted sound of rain beating on the roof now held above him.
    Tessa is still largely exposed, but shows little outward sign of discomfort save perhaps a faint shiver as she calmly says. "It's over, sir." There is a subtle smile on her face, her eyes seeming subtly brighter than before. No judgement or disgust for the brutal murder she witnessed. "Everything belongs to you, now. As it should."
    Tessa hasn't spoken a single word against Shaw since she's known him, and she is not given to brown-nosing. She is...
    ... Happy for him.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"So it is." Shaw replies, straightening with a glance upward at the Umbrella and a brief chuckle, "Thank You, Tessa." He turns and starts to move back towards the door that accesses the roof from below, "So...you've now seen me at my weakest, Tessa. And you've witnessed me murdering my own father." He pauses once they get in the door, at the top of that stairwell, just out of the rain but forced into close confines before the stairwell descends, and he reaches up and catches the side of Tessa's face, turning to look into her eyes. She knows he's strong enough to crush her with barely more than an errant thought at the moment, but the grip is gentle...almost more a caress.

"So now I have to know: Are you still with me?"

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa keeps the umbrella over Shaw's head until they're inside, before collapsing the umbrella; staying a pace or two behind Shaw as they move. Dripping wet and seemingly unconcerned of that fact, Tessa inclines her head to look at Shaw as he speaks, uttering "Sir?" before his powerful hand grasps her face.
    Tessa gasps softly and comes to a complete stop, eyes wide as she's held in such a vulnerable position, knowing full well the absolute mortal danger she's in, her hand instinctively squeezing his wrist near her face.
    As he speaks, her eyes narrow subtly - her composure mostly returning - and hold Shaw's gaze; a feat few could perform under the circumstances. She uses her free hand to reach into her suit jacket.
    She knows she can't hurt him, and that any gesture to try would be comical at best, especially after what she's seen. So she trusts he won't react with violence when she reaches into her vest pocket, and retrieves a tightly folded handkerchief and idly dabs at some of the water still visibly running down the side of Shaw's face and neck as she answers. "Until the end, sir." She says very softly, and releases her grasp on his wrist, removing the last vague gesture to her own defense. She quietly adds: "If you'll have me."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Sebastian shows no sign of fear or fury when she moves, only watching her eyes, until she speaks the words. He nods, relief and satisfaction mingling in his eyes.

"Good." His voice is ragged again, even as he repeats, "Good."

He leans forward and gently presses his lips to her forehead, and for a brief moment she finds herself in an embrace, warm, tight, but as carefully controlled as he held her face in his hand a moment ago. It's only a few moments, and when he releases it, he is composed once more:

"Because we have roughly 13 minutes to erase any evidence that this was anything other than a suicide."

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa's expression doesn't change as she's released, though her eyes do close, a soft sound coming from her throat when her employer embraces her. And for just that moment, for one of the few occasions in her life, the endless exhausting process of her brain - which feels like it doesn't even slow down when she sleeps most nights - seems to quiet just a little, and she feels like she's... in the moment. Quiet at last.
    And then Shaw gives her her time table, and she breathes in very sharply through her nose, switching everything back on in her mind, and adjusting her glasses before she walks away. "I will forge a note post-haste, sir, and alter the security feed." she says hurriedly, on task as always, and mentally weighing the need and efficiency of a cleanup crew.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
JUNE 17, 2015 -- The Victorian Restaurant, Hellfire Club, New York City

Sebastian Shaw is in full "dress" for the Victorian restaurant this evening, seated across one of the smaller, more private tables from Gerald Hawthorne, CEO and primary shareholder of a smaller natural gas company that Sebastian intends to acquire. The exquisite meal is already passed, and Shaw and Hawthorne sit sipping brandies while they chat.

"You're sure I can't convince you, Gerald? Sure you see the benefits of the merger...and you know you could float off to wherever you like on the golden parachute I'd give you."

Hawthorne is a few years older than Shaw, and dressed in a traditional tuxedo. He's actually seemed a bit off-put by Shaw's garb. Which was of course part of the intent. He shakes his head and replies, a bit testily, "This company is my life's work, Sebastian, I'm not ready to give it up yet. You're not getting your hands on our claims."

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa has become adept at many roles in her years of service now. Some of which felt somewhat... out of her depth... but it turns out with a little practice, Tessa can change her spots when she needs to.
    It helps to have the right motivation.
    Tessa strolls into view looking the way only a privileged few have been able to see. Her deeply attractive body is not only on display but seemingly on broadcast, clad in a tightly cinched black corset that barely covers her midriff and exposes a scandalous amount of cleavage, a skimpy scrap of cloth barely covering her hips. Her slender arms are clad in long black gloves that go up to her upper arms, and her legs are adorned in sleek, thigh-length black boots with dangerously high heels that she nonetheless manages to walk in with a sensual grace as she draws near.
    A long black cape flutters behind her, with the head of a rose attached to the 'lapel' of the cape in front of her over her left collarbone, and there is a tight black choker enclosing her neck with a small D-ring dangling from the front.
    It is, suffice to say, a bit charged.
    Hawthorne has, of course, seen her as Shaw's crisply dressed, color-coordinated shadow many times. But nothing like this.
    Her skin glistens with a gentle sheen of oil, smelling of a tasteful application of perfume as Tessa approaches Shaw and touches his shoulder. The icey woman, revealed now as a world class beauty, purrs softly as she slides into Sebastian's lap like it's the most natural thing in the world, legs slung over the armrest of his seat as she presses her gloved hand to his chest, and her ear to his shoulder, fixing Hawthorne with a coy look and an alost teasing smile. "Mr. Hawthorne..." she greets politely, but slightly disinterestedly, though there's a teasing slant to her voice as she says, "A pleasure to see you again~" with an almost challenging look in her eyes, asthough somehow amused by the gap between him and her employer which she now somehow exemplifies.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Hawthorne's eyes widen, and it actually takes a few moments for him to fully recognize who it is that's just joined the conversation.

"M-Miss Fox?" Hawthorne stammers, starting to rise to his feet out of politeness, but he's barely started to leave his seat when another server...a young blonde in white, takes the time to refresh his drink, leaning over to give him a generous view of her own cleavage and a coy smile as she does.

Hawthorne, you see, has a weakness. Tessa of course found it...four divorces, each subsequent marriage to the mistress he held with the wife before. Trips to Nevada that don't lead to Vegas, and a multitude of countries where prostitution is illegal, often auspiciously without his wife of the moment. Some of those countries being those where even darker variants of that particular vice can be found, if one has the money, and Gerald Hawthorne has money.

"Well, if I can't convince you, at least let me treat you to the full hospitality of the Club...to show there's no hard feelings." Sebastian grins, not -too- triumphantly, but a bit, as yet another Server passes by, a Asian woman in black, lightly caressing Hawthorne's chest and shoulder in passing. His gaze follows her swaying hips as she saunters away.

Shaw takes a sip of his brandy, knowing that tomorrow federal authorities are going to raid Gerald's office, seizing computers that contain certain videos of his highly illegal extracurricular activities, and while he's distracted tonight shell companies in overseas markets will be picking away at all his companies' available stock ..ready to dump it en masse along with everyone else when the news hits late tomorrow, and drive the company's value to virtually nothing. Shaw will get it for a song in the end.

"I, uh...of course, Sebastian, no hard feelings."

Sebastian grins wickedly, and turns his head to murmur quietly in Tessa's ear:

"Put him in the Cage, and make sure the girls give him the time of his life. I don't want him stumbling out of there until the raid has already hit."

The Cage being one of the private suites specially designed to block cell phone and wireless signals when activated."

His orders convenyed with a wicked grin, Shaw gently extricates Tessa from his lap and rises to his feet.

"Enjoy yourself Gerald...In fact Tessa here will make sure you do. I've a few other guests to attend to." And with that, he strides off to go chat with some other VIPs.

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa actually grins at Hawthorne's stumbling display, affecting the impression that she's charmed by his clear attraction, and his reaction to the other girls. She's well aware that this man in front of her is doomed. She's well aware that the man on whom's lap she's sitting is going to be largely responsible for ruining his life, on the foundation of work she prepared.
    She feels nothing for him. He's just a silly short sighted man with inflated self-importance and no self control.
    Ultimately... nobody.
    Tessa purrs softly when Shaw speaks in her ear, as if it were something entirely... well not 'innocent' but benign, and brings her lips to his ear, murmuring, "Consider it done, sir..." in a much more familiar and controlled voice, though her lips linger with a smile, to feed the impression that Hawthorne is in anything but a sensual palace of pleasure... and not the lion's den it really is.
    Tessa stands up and steps aside, bowing and sweeping her arm outward as Shaw passes, asthough to royalty.
    From this position, her gaze slowly sweeps over to Hawthorne, with a mischevious smile.
    This is exhausting for her, honestly. But the results are... always worth it.
    "Mr. Hawtorne... sir~?" She says, drawing near and affecting a soft, almost bashful voice, "If it pleases you... we have a room for special guests such as yourself. I was... *dearly* hoping that we may... spend some time together?" She says, her body leaning forward, head turned upward, making a bit of a show of her body. "... You can bring as many of our staff with us as you like...!"
    Hawthorne will agree. Of course he will. He'll follow Tessa and point out women to bring with them as they pass like a kid in a candy store. And in the morning his life will be over... and he'll never have touched her.
    After all... Tessa doesn't belong to him.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
SEPTEMBER 28, 2019 -- Sebastian Shaw's Residence, Hellfire Club, New York City

"Huh...Emma."

Sebastian Shaw is studying the early morning headlines on his smartphone, sitting up in the massive bed, leaning against the headboard and peering intently at the news that Winston Frost is stepping down from his company and appointing his middle daughter Emma as the new CEO.

"Trying to play the proxy game, Winston?" Shaw mutters to himself, "You never were quite as clever as you thought you were."

He turns to the woman beside him on that bed, "So he'll be putting Emma forward as the White Bishop." Winston had announced his attention to retire and nominate one of his children for his position, but the assumption had largely been that it would be the eldest, Adrienne. "Why Emma? She's a bright girl, and possibly the most powerful of her sisters, but..." He trails off, waiting to see what Tessa might have to say.

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa is normally up before Shaw is, and has his outfit for the day picked out and ready for him before he needs it. When she's able to. But there are mornings like today, where she wakes up with Shaw, still lightly tangled in the sheets, holding them to her chest, her legs sticking out from underneath them as she dares to lean gently against Shaw as he speaks, eyes closed.
    She is not, in fact, dozing on the job. She just needs a bit of time to process in the morning, and doesn't have the opportunity to do it in private before work this morning.
    And he's warm.
    Her brow furrows slightly with interest, and she takes a deep slow breath before speaking softly, voice tinged with a hint of that 'still waking up' heavyness, "Winston is obsessed with control. Given what I know of him, and given what I've seen of his children..." Her hand pats around blindly for her glasses on the bed. She finds nothing. She gives up, "... he doesn't trust the others not to go their own way, or turn against him. He most likely believes that young Ms. Frost is the most... pliable."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"Sounds about right. He wants to leave his seat yet keep it. Which likely means he's planning a move against Me or Lex, or both." Shaw considers, setting his phone aside and mopping his face with his hands, gathering his own thoughts, before leaning over and kissing Tessa briefly before he shifts to slide out of the bed, pacing a bit before looking back to Tessa more intently now, "Risk assessment?"

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa smiles very softly when Shaw kisses her, and is prepared enough to prop herself up when he moves. Sighing softly, she lets the sheet fall and makes for another search for the glasses she... lost track of in her haste the night previous. Even as she does, she answers, "Emma seems effectively cowed, but she's too intelligent not to chafe at her situation, and not to recognize this for what it is. She is more intelligent, and has greater potential than her father, and poses a greater threat. If Winston believes he can control her..."
    Tessa finds her glasses and puts them on, light glinting off he lenses as she adjusts them, "... she will gravely dissappoint him at the earliest opportunity." Tessa slides to the edge of the bed. "... Though not neccessarily to your detriment, Mr. Shaw. Depending."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"Depending on how she's received." Shaw finishes the thought, moving to pull on his robe, and plucking up Tessa's gown from the floor, walking over to help her into it, looking momentarily amused at the role-reversal. "Well, best to control what we can then." He's silent a few moments, then grins, "I need to get in touch with Lex. Winston wants a Bishop...we'll give him a Queen."

Shaw grins entirely wickedly at Tessa, "And then we'll make sure she lives up to it."

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa closes her eyes and nods her head as Shaw correctly takes her meaning, opening her eyes again to find a robe being presented to her. The irony is not lost on her as she lets him slide it onto her shoulders, softly saying "Thank you, Mr. Shaw." as she ties it closed.
    Nodding her agreement, Tessa says so matter-of-factly that she could be mistaken for being pure in her intentions, "An understanding mentor can work wonders, Sir." in agreement. She's... tempted to risk another kiss, or another touch... but she's on the clock now.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
MARCH 22, 2020 --- Sebastian Shaw's Office, Shaw Industries Headquarters, New York City

Sebastian Shaw strides into his office at a brisk pace, closing the door behind him, then canting his head curiously at Tessa, whom he had previously instructed to wait for him here. He sees her standing near the window, staring outward, he recognizes the signs. A bit of a trance she sometimes goes into when that remarkable mind of hers is firing on all (or most) of its' cylinders.

"Tessa, what are you doing?"

He queries as he moves across the room to stand by her side, studying the view a few moments himself while he waits for her to respond.

Tessa has posed:
    Tessa is almost motionless, her eyes open narrowly, peering out at nothing. It's unlike her to be unaware of her surroundings, but she... gets this way every now and then.
    Tessa takes a sharp breath through her nose, as if re-activated - if not quite startled - by Shaw's voice, and she turns around, eyes slightly wider, but otherwise as composed as she ever is under normal circumstances. "Ah- forgive me, Sir. I was just reorganizing some..." she smiles very faintly, "... historical data."
    Tessa folds her hands in front of her,
    "How may I serve you, Sir?"