6985/A Day At The Racists'

A Day At The Racists'
Date of Scene:	18 July 2021
Location:	Kannerly Mansion, Upstate New York
Synopsis:	While attending an exclusive party thrown by a wealthy British millionaire, Lara Croft discovers a disturbing reason for the celebration - and meets a potential ally while she's there.
Cast of Characters:	Michael Erickson, Lara Croft

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Michael Erickson has posed:
    Ah, the wealthy.

    Since her return to New York, one imagines that poor Lara has been drowned in invitations to this party or the next -- one of whom is being held of an evening by the reclusive (and expatriate) British millionaire Rusus Kannerly, who while not a toff himself is obscenely wealthy enough for several connected British noble families to owe him scads of money. After all, those enormous houses and grounds need to be maintained /somehow/, and inheritance taxes strips more and more of liquid wealth with every generation that Labor remains in power, and so it's the upwardly mobile, not the upwardly bred, that have the reins. Not that the Crofts are owing money, of course, but perhaps Lara has her own reasons to be seen.

    The Kannersley Mansion is an old, glorious Georgian house an hour's distance from Buffalo; deep snow country, but for now it's simply twenty thousand square feet of gorgeous house on fifty acres of rolling estate, becolumned porch hung with lanterns bright and beautiful to go with the lights strung about the pavilion that rises in the center of the roundabout driveway. One can see the house from afar, coming down the main drive, lit up like a temple dedicated to some divine god of money. It's not Mammon's realm but you could probably see it from here.

    Serving as chief temple guard tonight is the being who wears the name of Michael Erickson, standing out on the steps in his tuxedo, hands tucked behind his back in the way of those who've lived a lifetime of staying the Hell out of the way of people. As the limousines roll up and disgorge squadrons of the laughing, filthy rich, he listens to traffic on the earpiece safety ensconced in his right ear and via the throat mic hidden behind his tie he murmurs orders and replies. Good night, this. Quiet. Calm. People coming and being drunk and closed-minded is going to be the worst of the night. He'll make absolutely sure of it.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's not a fan of these types of social gatherings. She really hated them when she was a little girl. But in her young adult years, she's come to accept them, and attend them with a smile due to her desire to uphold her parents' desire. The Nobility claim was something she knew meant a lot to them, even if it didn't mean a lot to her.

Case in point, she'd joined SHIELD and moved to the United States a little over a year ago. Officially she lives at the Croft Tower in Midtown Manhattan, but unofficially she actually lives in a one bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village. Officially she has security guards watching her and keeping her safe, as Duchess of a county in Britain it only makes sense. In actuality? She doesn't allow any of the security detail anywhere near her. It's just how she plays things. A Public LIfe, like here tonight, and a more personal life, like her career as an Archaeologist that does a lot more world traveling than she really details publicly.

It's complicated!

But here and now, Lara is arriving via a nice town car and stepping out to attend the party wearing a sky blue dress that is sleeveless and bares her back down to the level just beneath her shoulderblades. The dress ends just over her kneees with little slits up the sides and gets lighter in tone the further down toward her knees it gets.

She has a silver necklace on around her throat and a pair of silver earrings. Her hair is tied up and she looks very well made-up for the event.

She passes by Michael on her way in, sparing the man a small smile as she goes, but otherwsie is greeting those who speak to her along the way.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    In actuality, she can take better care of herself than a platoon of guards most likely. Complicated indeed. But tonight need not be complicated, beyond the ritual of showing up in that jewel of a dress, being social, smiling more than any woman should have to without /actually/ being happy. This is why patriarchy sucks, after all.

    And of course, you can't have patriarchy without a patriarch - and standing just inside the house's enormous doorway is Kennersley himself, a positively monolithic specimen of a man who looks as though he might have played rugby so much he became the entire offensive line. Short, graying blonde hair and a big, greasy smile. Made his fortune in the technology sector. Computers and energy.

    But first, the gauntlet. Each guest is given an invitation with a special holographic stamp instead of a wax seal; as they come up, besuited men and women in the security detail scan each with a handheld device and route folks into the house, where they are announced by staff inside. Because money, you know. Position. As Lara comes up the stairs, however, she will be approached by Michael himself, carrying his own scanner as he goes.

    "Excuse me, miss," he proclaims in a rich baritone voice, his New York accent pinning him as a resident of Manhattan somewhere. "I need to scan your invitation."

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara is greeting some of the familiar faces she sees also entering the party when she is stopped by the guard she'd smiled at. She has her invitation in her left hand and she looks down to it, and then back up at him.

"Oh, yes, of course." She states kindly and offers it over to him. "You're doing a good job then, I'm glad to see that. Don't let any of these people by without making sure they belong here." She teases, playfully, meant to be fun. She's not the best at humor!

Some of the others pass by after being checked by other members of the guards and Lara waits patiently now, while dropping her hands in front of her lap to hold them there as he scans the elaborate card.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    A polite smile is given her, professional to the core - and Michael takes the invitation from her to run the scanner beam over the seal.

    The device buzzes in the negative.

    "Mmmm." He scans it again, then once more, each time rewarded only with the irritable buzz. "Please, miss, can you step aside with me? Nothing to worry about, these seals sometimes get damaged in transport. Do you have your identification with you?"

Lara Croft has posed:
The negative buzzing noises has Lara getting some eyes from other people moving past her in to the party. It makes the Duchess herself just laugh and shake her head. "Oh god, you're going to turn me away aren't you?" She says to the Guard who's working with her on this.

As he asks for her identification she shakes her head while moving to where he indicates. "I don't have it, no." She tells him. "I wasn't prepared for this to be a false invitation." She states with a clear grin, amusement stricken across her youthful features. She leans toward him for a moment. "It's okay if you throw me out, I can go find a different place to get drunk without all thesnooty people around." She is joking of course, right? Maybe, maybe not!

Either way though, Lady Croft follows the Guard and exhales as she strokes one hand over the loose strands of her hair framing her forehead.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I'm not going to throw you out, miss." Michael gives her a faint smile, though outwardly his mein remains stiff and forbidding, the security man through and through. He looks down at the document in his hand, blue eyes tracking every line as though some spell might be divined from it. "You are Lady Croft, yes?"

    

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's walking stops when he stops, her heeled shoes clicking on the stone ground beneath them as she listens to his question and smirks at the part about not being kicked out. "Shucks." She sarcastically says back to him.

At his quesiton though, she smiles more warmly and seriously. She bobs her head two quick times. "I am so. Lara is fine though. I've never been much for the titles." She knows he's likely not to listen to her request there, as his superiors probably wouldn't want him to.

"I do have my cell phone in the car, it has my Agent identification in it. I work for SHIELD, you see." SHIELD being in government hot water, but not the division Lara was in, so she wasn't embroiled in all of that, exactly.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    SHIELD certainly gets his attention. Looking up at her with one brow lifted in surprise, he's about to answer -- and then a loud, terribly cheerful and terribly British voice booms from the top of the steps.

    "Michael? What is it?"

    Kennersley comes down the steps now, impeccably dressed wall that he is, keeping himself righted with a black cane that matches his tuxedo sharply. "Lady Croft," he booms again as he sees Lara there, smiling at her in effusive greeting as the woman is caught in view. "My word, what are you doing over here? Michael, she should be inside."

    "Just some trouble with the holographic stamp, sir," says Erickson, his expression turning hard and professional once more. "Nothing to worry about. I just wanted to confirm--"

    "Oh, confirm /nothing/, man! I know who this woman is!" Kennersley gestures to Lara then, expression turning apologetic. "Michael is always extremely thorough, my dear, which is why I hire him to oversee security for these little affairs. Though he could -- " Kennersley gives Michael a glance. " -- Exercise a bit more social decorum. Let her in, Michael. She isn't anything remotely approaching a threat."

    Michael looks between the two of them, then shrugs and begins folding up the invitation. Stoic.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes are on Michael up to the point where the voice from Kennersley draws both of their stares to him. The scene that unfolds has Lara smiling largely at the man who 'rescues her' from the dutiful Guard.

"It's no bother at all. I was enjoying the weather out here today anyway." She plays it off good naturedly and when she looks back to Michael she nods once to him and Kennersley's assessment of the man. "Very thorough." She states with another smile as she accepts the invitation back from him after he yields to the man's wishes.

"Thank you, and keep up the good work. It's refreshing and comforting to know the security cares to be so strict." The Lady says before she offers yet one last smile. She turns then and walks up to greet Kennersley, offering him friendly words in greeting as she accompanies him in to the party...

Michael is pretty likely to tell she's putting on a bit of a fake show of happiness about it all, but such is the life of these people, right?

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Well I can't escort you, I'm afraid," says Kennersley, giving her an apologetic smile. "Guests to welcome, that sort of thing - ah!" He smiles now, clasping his hands and looking between the two of them. "Michael, why don't you be her escort for the evening, won't you? You can do the job while you keep her company, eh?"

    Michael is...quiet for a moment, but he nods. "If that's what you like, sir." Without delay, he gestures to the house, offering Lara his arm. "If you'll come with me, Lady Croft?"

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara seems a bit surprised by this, but she looks back to Michael as he approaches and offers his arm. She accepts it and hooks her left around his elbow to take it and offer him a smile as she does so.

"Well then, back again." She says to him with a pleased expression. When they turn to the party and proceed toward it, Lara walks casually with her heeled shoes clicking softly on the stonework pathway. "This means you get to partake in the alcoholic beverages while you're assigned to me too." She tells him with a sidelong grin. "Drinking at work, that's not so bad, right?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "I don't drink," he replies as the two head up the stairs; he is precise in his movements, offering her support when she goes up on those heels. "But I'll make sure you're safe if you want to get smackered." Michael glances at her a moment before going back to scanning the place -- a bit like a turret, a machine. Very sharp. "Michael Erickson, my lady. Nice to meet you."

    Through the doors and into the entryway; marble floors, tastefully painted walls affixed with ridiculously expensve art. Dramatic double staircase reaching into the second floor as if into heaven, all mahogany everywthing. There are guests here, of course, chatting quietly amongst each other, flutes full of champagne and whatever else is on offer - waiters wander about with trays so that a drink is never far away. The party, of course, is elsewhere, but one need only follow the trail of wealthy folk. "The majority of the guests are in the ballroom. Shall we go there?"

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara releases a quick short laugh at his response about alcohol. "I don't actually plan to drink that much either." She states, looking back over at him as he introduces himself. She smiles softly at the name and then looks away agian as they enter the home. She scans it over before she looks back to him. "Ah... well."

She spots someone going by with drinks and does take up one from the platter, a tall glass of champagne that she immediately takes a sip from before she exhales and then shakes her head.

"Have to play by the rules." She says quietly to him. "A drink makes you look more invested in the moemnt and atmosphere." She then looks toward the ballroom and nods softly.

"To be honest, Mr. Erickson. I'd planned to do a round or two and then make my exit." She looks back over to him again. "This really isn't my kind of thing..." She says in a near whisper. "It's more just a ... burden and inconvenient obligation."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "If I weren't being paid, Lady, I wouldn't be here either." Not something that a professional might normally admit, but now he's playing as much the role of bodyguard as he is director of intelligence. "Are you a friend of Mister Kannersley?" Gently probing now, though he passes it off well enough. Hardly his first rodeo, even if the lady says she's a government agent. Not that this seems to have put him off, either.

    They pass a pair of fellows deep in discussion, and probably not in their first round of cups. "...well something /has/ to be done about it. They're still around, aren't they?"

    "Quite, quite. One wished they'd all gone at the same time, but I suppose they have more in common with cockroaches than human beings..."

    "This way," he says, leading her on.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara holds the glass in her right hand as she holds his elbow with her left. She regards the people that walk past them with a small intrigue gracing her face before she looks back to Michael beside her. She affords him another soft smile. "I can empathize with that, I think anyway." She quietly says before nodding about the question with regard to the man who they left behind outside.

"His family is an old acquaintence of my mother and father. I haven't seen any of their relatives up to this very moment, since my parents' passing. This is why I'm here in fact, they insisted that I come to one of these once they learned I was living in the US for work. So... I am here for my parents, really, because... if they were still 'here', they would be 'here'." She glances at him and smirks. "If that makes any sense at all. My apologies, for dumping that convoluted explanation upon you, but yes."

She takes in a breaht then, calming her nerves, dares another sip of the drink and follows him through the fancy home in to the main room... He'll feel her tense up a bit at it in fact. A woman who can do the things she does without fear, but this? It puts her on edge.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    At her explanation he shrugs, leading her on into a side corridor. "Makes sense to me," he tells her. "Nobility are creatures of requirement and obligation. It is the way of things." If he senses her tensing, he gives no sign - but he gives the two murmuring as they pass a bitter look. Down the corridor and through the door at its end, and into the ballroom they go.

    Like all grand houses, the ballroom is immense - big enough to host a hundred, likely, though there aren't that many here quite yet. No dancing, either; they mill about, these painted ponies, drinking and chatting and laughing amongst themselves as their host is off elsewhere. "So if you're a federal agent," he says now, steering her gently to a spot off to the side, "Should you be here? Isn't there something to be said about diplomatic representation or whatever?"

Lara Croft has posed:
Once they enter the hall, Lara is one to give smiles to those who greet them, she speaks to those who wish to speak past a mere greeting and she ultimately plays the part up until Michael leads them away from it all enough that they can share words in relative private again.

At his question she considers it and shakes her head. "SHIELD is as much about politics as anything else. Being here is actually good for the Agency. Those who know I'm with them, which is likely very few people, they'll see it as support and a show of SHIELD's 'quality". Which, if you've been watching, has been put in to question quite a lot lately."

She takes another sip of her drink, because its there and she looks over at Michael again. "You have the air of someone who was in the military..." She looks him over for a moment. "Marines?" She asks, wagering a guess!

Michael Erickson has posed:
    At this Michael simply shrugs. "If you folks were useless," he points out in his stodgy way, "You wouldn't be allowed to continue. The American government is a lot of things, but it doesn't exactly like wearing an albatross." He smirks faintly her way. "Bad for public relations. And no. Not military. But thank you for saying so."

    Presently someone comes up, smiling brightly. Lady in a sequin dress, a generation too old for the modern day despite her young face. "Hallo there," she slurs a bit, weaving on heels with a flute in her hand. "Are you here for the presentation tonight?"

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes are on him as he replies to her but she doesn't immediately respond to him. She's about to, but the woman approaches them and speaks up. Lara lowers her drink after another sip and holds it in front of her sky-blue dress covering her stomach. She stares upon the woman who asks that question and then looks to Michael before shooting a look back to the woman.

Lara smiles to her, and shakes her head.

"Actually, no, I wasn't aware of any such presentations." She responds. "But that certainly sounds exciting. What topic is the presentation set to be covering?" Lara asks the woman, trying to sound interested, even if she really isn't.

A glance is given to Michael before Lara puts her eyes back upon the woman iin the sparkling dress.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Oh, public health," the lady says, eyes unfocused, pupils huge -- she's probably done the East Coast's worth of cocaine rails, as big as they are. "It's so important! Anyway you've got nothing to worry about if you're here, right? Ha! Pure blood and all!" Off she goes, weaving off that way.

    "Right," Michael says as the woman wobbles off, "Give me a moment to make sure she doesn't fall down and break her neck." A few words are murmured into the throat mic, soft, humming mumble. Then he's back. "No idea what shes on about - I knew he was going to talk about something tonight, but I'm just here to keep people safe and make sure nobody drinks themselves into a coffin." Michael slips his arm from hers, then, tucking his hands behind his back. "Should be interesting."

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara just quickly smiles to the man as he goes to help the woman while she saunters off in that intoxicated stooper. "The night is young." She says additionally as he goes. She spares a moment to watch but by the time he returns she's finished off her glass and is setting it on to the tray of one of the servers who passes her by. She doesn't take a second, instead she simply places her hands in front of her lap now and interlaces her fingers together.

She looks to Michael when he returns. "Good work, by the way. That one is going to be trouble in a bit." She adds with a grin.

"And yes, if there's to be a presentation, perhaps I'll stick around a little longer and watch it myself..."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "My job to make sure she isn't," Michael replies simply.

    A few moments pass in silence, and then the doors to the ballroom open once more. All heads turn as Kannersley appears, and the applause follows in a wave as he enters the room. All smiles, that fellow, like a big...overly muscled granpa. Good lord he must have been built like /two/ trucks when he was young!

    Kannersley wades through the crowd, though it's only a few moments before its parts for him like the Red Sea; he walks into the center of the ballroom, folk drawing away to give him space, holding a microphone in his hand like some kind of old-fashioned nightclub emcee. Sinatra and the Rat Pack are no doubt in attendance, that sort of thing. He looks about the group, smiling in his grandfatherly way, and opens his mouth.

    "Mutants." A pause. "Mutants are the genetic threat of our time. The single greatest modern threat to blood and breeding."

    Oh. OH.

Lara Croft has posed:
A quick and curt nod is given to the man as he states his job once more, which garners a hint of a grin from Lara at his seriousness about it all. But she's soon looking away as people begin to applaud for Kannersley's arrival. She doesn't really participate in this applause but she does stand there patiently waiting for the presentation to begin.

When the aging man begins to speak, Lara keeps her brown eyed gaze upon him across the room, her hands held together in front of her lap. She isn't sure where this is going, until it gets there.

Oh, no.

A server passes by right after Kannersley lays out where he's driving this wagon,and Lara stops him and takes another flute of champagne. Forget about her rules for the night, this is going to require another glass of booze...

She raises it to her lips to dive right in... and spares another side glances toward Michael on her left...

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Michael's face, hearing these words, hardens into a stone mask. Whatever ease having such lovely company has brought to him is utterly atomized when Kannersley opens his fat mouth. Did he know? Maybe. Maybe not. But he absolutely doesn't seem to like what he's hearing.

    The crowd, however, is eating it up. Lots of murmuring. A buzz already begins to build. Kannersley continues.

    "Now I know that I, for all my wealth, am not a member of the gentry -- but the line of British nobility is a bastion upon which our English culture, and all of its stability, is built. And I..." He gestures to himself, the microphone like a wand. "...being a citizen and patriot of our island, a staunch subject of the Crown, will not see that sullied by the inclusion of mutant blood. Can one imagine a time when the gentry includes such aberrations in their ranks? Such...such freaks?" His eyes are wide, his delivery earnest, not psychotic as one might expect. There is a certain, horrible innocence in his delivery. Earnestness.

    Michael plucks a flute from a tray and hands it to Lara. Gets one for himself. Rules off the table, indeed.

Lara Croft has posed:
It's not that this is entirely new to Lara, she's dealt with these kinds of things before. Her stance on this is far more... lenient, thatn what is being blathered about by the man of the hour. She just accepts it for what it is though, not anything she can really do a lot about in this moment.

She takes the drink from the man on her lef tand spares him a knowing smirk. She leans over toward him. "I didn't expect this." She tells him, assuming he might wonder if she falls in-line with this sort of belief.

When she leans back she takes a sip from the drink and remains out of the smattering of applause being given to their host as he speaks further on. She instead folds her free arm over her stomach and holds her drink in her other hand up at shoulder level so its easier and faster to get a drink when she decides she needs one...

Which depending on the length of this speech, maybe quite a lot of sips incoming...

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Neither did I." This Michael says from the rim of his glass as he takes a sip of the drink, murmuring something into his throat mic after a swallow of the champagne. It's very good. Bollinger, probably. Or one of the other -ingers. Spendy. "Do you want to stay?"

    "...so it is today that I would like to share with you, my friends and members of the blood, my strategy for ensuring that your families will remain clean of this filth, and you will never need fear of being laid low by the horror of contamination."

    Lots of murmurs. People are into it. Because of course they are.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's gaze goes out across the attendees of the gala tonight. She watches the faces of those who are in full awe of the man's speech, and it makes the young Lady Croft feel a bit uneasy about what she's founds herself in tonight. She knows many of the faces in the crowed, and she didn't think they were about to side on such a topic as this. It... doesn't necessarily surprise her, but it does unsettle her. The night had taken a very unexpected turn.

She puts her eyes back up toward Kannersley and listens to what he is leading up to, but otherwise just sips her drink and remains mostly motionless where she stands off to the back corner perimeter with Michael beside her, who does get a glance when he speaks in to his team comms, but ultimately Lara's attention is on the man of the hour, as he continues onward.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Kannersley is on fire now, speaking in a semi-hushed way that draws in the attention - it's a pitch, after all, something he's had to have made an art of in all his years of business. "We must, together, make up a catalogue, a list of those in the noble ranks; not just a register of names, of associations, but genetic markers, helix data, marker trends. All of these, sampled from clients, can be aded to this master list, and with modern advances in genetic science, marked for simulation to ensure that future combinations of bloodlines will not give rise to mutation. I call it..." A moment's pause, his voice going lower still before picking up again. The call to grander. "Genopticon."

    A grunt from Michael. Another sip of wine.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's eyes are on Kannersley as he continues to outline his plan to whatever results the audience takes of it. Usually these kind of parties draw people who are inclined to reply to the Host in good fashion no matter what their internally thinking of the speech or its content implications. That is the Rich after all, rather two-faced.

For Lara, she just quietly sips her drink and stares. She does spare a glance to her assigned companion for the evening and smirks at him, she isn't in on this and it doesn't take much to tell that either.

She puts her eyes back on the man of the hour and just watches, quietly... This isn't her kind of place, to be sure!

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Meanwhile, Kannersley takes a small remote from his pocket; thumbing a control causes something to hum to life overhead, a halo of white light radiating from hidden fixtures that coalesces into a hazy holographic image - sharp as television, at the very least, advanced technology on the human baseline. Pretty colors, if a bit washed out. Michael takes note, satisfied that this isn't...well. Too advanced, at the very least. His own 'tuxedo' is a holographic shell as well, seemingly real as fabric, and armor underneath, thousands of years ahead of the native technology on this planet. But then again, this is Earth, and nothing's 'native' anymore.

    Which of course is why he's here.

    "Genopticon," Kennersley continues, gesturing in his grand way, "Is a method by which we can ensure that bloodlines remain pure. Each subscriber receives a monitor device, no bigger than a pound stamp, which is implanted in the body - utterly harmless, and not remotely invasive of course. This monitor constantly relays medical information extracted from a battery of regular scans to a primary database, where genetic consistency is watched and recorded. Now this, of course, this sounds a bit frightening at first; however, the monitor can only examine genetic markers, no other medical information. We're not selling data to the insurance houses." A wink; some chuckles from the audience. Most are simply looking on. Kannersley goes on.

    "Of course when a match between lines is considered - especially to outside parties - the Genopticon system will request information from them, too; the service then utilizes advanced computer intelligence to model the genetic combinations created from biological unions, and thus ensures that descendants will be..." He pauses to give a tight smile. "Desirable."

    "Eugenics," Erickson mutters to himself, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not talking to you, sorry." Someone's likely heard him and put a questioning word in his ear.

Lara Croft has posed:
Lara's got her dirnk down to half way once the hologram show starts and the true meat of this presentation is laid out upon the audience. She hears Michael's comment beside her which gets her to look toward him, and see him muttering to his security comm which has her smiling faintly before she looks back and finally just shakes her head. She didn't /want/ to show any physical displeasure at this, in case she was being watched, but she is a bit inebriated now after what is esentially two glasses of alcohol so quickly.

"This is wild." Lara quietly says, having no comms on her she's talking to Michael. She glances back toward him. "I think I might be nearing my time to make an exit." She warns him.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "...yeah," Michael manages, still keeping his eyes on the show. "Let me know when. I'll walk you out."

    His expression remains stony, but thoughtful.

    "Of course if the other match does not wish to give that data, you will of course have to make a decision yourself; our job is to ensure that you have the collective infornation needed to keep yourselves and your legacies pure." Above him the steps of the process are rendered in holographic images, a very high-market sales presentation. The man himself quite at ease. "Now I have no doubt that you will have much to speak of on the subject; my office will be open for questions and early adopters first thing Monday morning. And of course, information packets will be made available as you depart for the evening. And with that said, I ask that you enjoy yourselves and thank you for your time."

    And with that the show is over. The holograms subside, a disturbingly large majority of guests applaud, and Kannersley is immediately swalllowed in partyguests and their own immediate questioning. Michael looks to Lara. "Time to go, Lady Croft?"

Lara Croft has posed:
When the hologram fades, Lara's eyes go up to watch it dim and vanish. She then lowers her stare back to the HOst as he ends the show. She shakes her head softly again and turns to nod once to Michael. "Yes, I believe it is." She telsl him as she turns fully to face him and the direction theyd' come from originally. When she has a chance she speaks softly to him. "This is ... not what I was expecting tonight. Normally these kind of announcements are ... marriages, unions of some manner, or the announcement of a new baby to the family. NOt..." She looks over her shoulder "Whatever /that/ was." She states as she looks back to her Escort for the evening She finishes off her drink and sets it on a Waiter's tray as he passes by them.

"I do want to get a couple of those packets he spoke of, to read a bit about this and maybe pass it on to some people I know though..." She quietly adds to him. Can she trust Micheal? She suddenly isn't sure of that, but just smiles softly anyway as they walk.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    The time to worry about /that/ was probably when she told him she worked for SHIELD. "Right, this way," he says - and nothing else until they go out into the corridor. Already there's a bunch of buzz about, some parties having watched the presentation from monitors in the foyer and the like. There are some, it must be said, who look outright displeased, but they are a very thin minority.

    Once they're out in the corridor, however, Michael's expression - remarkably enough - manages to harden even further. "Not what I was expecting either," he rumbles. "I imagine this is where Mr. Kannersley and I part ways." A glance to her. "Unless you were serious about who you work for. I don't mind being a man on the inside."

    Oh ho!

Lara Croft has posed:
When he says that last part, Lara's eyes go back over to him. She stares at him for a second or two before she glances toward the throngs of people coming out of the grand hall even ifthe party is still in full swing. She looks back to the Guard with her tonight and she titls her head ever so slightly. "You're serious?" She asks him. But before he can respond she releases a breath and shakes her head softly. "SHIELD is in a precarious place right now, but they mean to fix that,a nd should it be fixed relatively swiftly, I believe this sounds like something that will indeed end up on their..." She pauses and gives another side glance. "Radar."

Lara looks back to the man before her then and nods toward him once. "I wouldn't wish to put your career in jeopardy though, Mr. Erickson..." She tells him with a sympathetic look before she turns to start to walk again, spying the place to get that info packet mentioned...

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "There have already been two times in the last hundred years that has seen millions of people dying over genetics," Michael replies in his short, grim way. "I'd like to avoid another." It's only been a year since Genosha. "Anyway. My career isn't anything if it isn't handled honestly. You decide you want more information, I'll stick around and keep an eye on things here."

    They reach the door; smiling service staff hand out beautifully worked brochure packets to guests as they exit, though very few are doing so at the moment. One is pressed into Lara's hands as she exits the house on Michael's arm. "Lady Croft is leaving," he murmurs into his mic, loud enough for Lara to hear. "Have the car brought around."

Lara Croft has posed:
When they reach the door and the people handing out the pamphlets, Lara accepts one and then kindly asks for a second saying that she believes her Uncle in London would love one of these to read over... and sadly she's rather certain he would. But it isn't for him, it's for her job.

Once they're stepping outside together, Lara pauses when he calls for the vehicle she'd come in, the town car from Croft Tower in Manhattan. She smiles again to him and stands there holding the two pamphlets in her hands in front of her. "Do you have a way to be reached?" She asks him then. "If you do choose to stay a bit longer, then once my employers are in a better position to respond to this... we can make it happen, or at least look in to it."

Lara spares another glance back in to the fine home before she regards Michael again. "This is going to blow up, I believe, it could be a bigger deal than we even realize right now. Especially with how tentative relations are between Mutants and... the rest of the world." She shakes her head then and glances down to the booklets in her hands...

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Like I said." He slips a hand into his jacket, reaches deep. Comes up with a card, which he hands out to her. Michael Erickson, Security Consultant. An address in Manhattan, smack dab in the middle of Murray Hill. Expensive, but not /enormously/ so when compared to other addresses on the island. "At any rate. You keep in touch, Lady Croft. I'm sure I'll have more to talk about next time we meet." And that said he releases her, the car coming around on the loop and the driver getting out to admit her; Michael stays on the steps, watching as she gets inside - ever the guardian, waiting for the car door to close before he heads back up the stairs to return to what has now become loathesome work.

    Sadly enough, he imagines his own family back home would approve of this as well.