2007-08-08: DF: The Very Convenient Truth


DFLogan_icon.gif DFCyprus_icon.gif DFLaurel_icon.gif

Summary: Cyprus is a schemer, Logan is petty, and Laurel is there to witness.

Dark Future Date: August 8th, 2009

The Very Convenient Truth

Marriot Marquis

Tensions are running higher than ever. What with the slight kidnapping of someone with supposed personal links to potentially dangerous people, along with the public denouncement of his brother, security is tighter than ever. Considering Logan was shot within just a few days of even entering New York City, perhaps they should have thought about this sooner. Despite this, he couldn't be feeling better! From some morning meeting, a black car pulls up to the Marriot, and Logan steps out, followed by security - one of which is Halifax, who is now working overtime. A few heads turn but otherwise, the arrival goes smoothly, and he enters the hotel at a stroll, through the now familiar, spacious foyer.

And waiting in the foyer is Cyprus in his usual business suit and tie. At least he is without a briefcase today. He glances up at the President and his entourage arrives, crossing the lobby to fall in line with them. "Mr. President," he greets. "I trust your morning went well?" He matches his pace to that of Logan's, practiced in the smooth integration into the procession.

Like a good member of the President's private security, Laurel follows behind at a quick pace, dressed as professionally as she can be. Though sometimes she has issues with the uniform they choose. At least she's not actually a guard for her fighting skills. Skirts are more practical when you're the President's instant Pope-mobile. When Cyprus approaches, she prepares to stop at an acceptable distance, and glances around cautiously. Another thing she's good at, spotting danger. Unless it's a cobra falling out of a tree.

Walk and talk. Rather than linger within the foyer, Logan opts to continue on his way, trusting Cyprus to keep up with wherever he chooses to be going, which is towards the elevators and likely towards the suite. A few of his security break off, but a couple are expected to remain - specifically, Ms. Pope-Mobile and some other guy who likely has some kind of useful ability as well. "It went," Logan says, neutrally, as the doors close. "Tell me, you haven't been listening to the radio lately, have you?"

"I have Margie to listen to the radio for me, sir," replies Cyprus without missing a beat as the doors close. He stands to the left of the President, giving a brief nod to Laurel and to the other bodyguard. He turns his attention back to the President. "I assume you're talking about the local pirate broadcasts? I don't risk listening to them directly. I have them transcribed, sir. But yes, the one claiming that we're using this tragedy to simply make ourselves look better. Homeland is trying to isolate their broadcast, but they move around a lot."

Once inside, there's less to keep an eye on. Laurel still checks the shadows, glances towards the windows, and then keeps her eyes open for anything that might randomly appear. The other man earns a hint of a smile— showing she still isn't quite stone-like in her professionalism— but she covers it up by looking away. Danger could appear out of any corner. Even from above. She looks up too. No cobras. The president is safe.

"The pirate broadcasts are of no real consequence," Logan says as he eyes the closed elevator doors blankly. "They're a nuisance, however, and I'd like it silenced before this becomes some sort of trend. Criminals broke into my private vaults and decided to broadcast the incident, as well - could we have a little effectiveness, please? I know we're only the government but surely there's something we can do." Someone's in a sarcastic mood. There's a ding, and the elevator comes to stop at the suite level, and Logan allows a bodyguard to go first before breezing out.

Cyprus takes a breath, and nods. "I will see what I can do, sir," he says simply. Whatever that may mean, there is something rather cold and detached about Cyprus's tone. That something might very be something very, very bad. "I will speak to Homeland." He moves to match the President's stride, a half step behind, once the first bodyguard is out, sparing a glance by way of Laurel. There's almost something of a warning in that glance, as he turns back to the President. "There is another matter I wish to discuss, Mr. President."

It's true that Laurel's listening, but she's also keeping an eye out on things. Radio stations have never been her big point, and she knows it's dangerous to get caught listening to certain things anyway. She'll stick to what's not dangerous because she's paranoid. She's already paranoid about the cobra she's been hiding for over a week. She knows better than to let it anywhere near the President. She's not dumb. But she does follow after they exit and sticks to the back, keeping an eye on what's behind them, and at the sides, and leaving the other bodyguard to cover the front.

"Mr. President," the guard at the door greets as they move down the corridor, opening the door for them. The suite is as elegant and pristine as ever, and naturally, Laurel would go to stand around outside too and take up a guard spot. Instead, Logan keeps the door open a fraction once inside. "Halifax, if you would," is all he says before continuing inside. "What do you have to talk to me about?" he prompts Cyprus, taking off his tie once inside and setting it down on a random flat surface.

Following the President inside, Cyprus stops to glance once again at Laurel as Logan lets her inside. Still, he doesn't object, and instead waits until the door has closed before he speaks. "Kate Petrelli wants to make a deal," he says evenly. It would appear that Logan isn't the only one capable of seemingly out of the blue disruptions. "I have spoken to her about issuing a… statement, in return for her protection from extremists. At first, she was not too cooperative. But it seems she has had a change of heart after your speech, sir."

"Of course, Mr. President," Laurel says before she slides inside first, glancing at all the little nooks and cranies of the room, behind the door, the windows— that pesky ceiling again. Even without a visible threat, she actually puts a forcefield over each of the windows. Invisible. Unseen. Completely out of the way. It's just a precausion, and one they may not ever know she makes. She's paranoid. She'd put one around the cars if she could, but her forefield doesn't move, unfortunately. "Room is Secure, Mr. President," she adds, so that they know it's safe to enter.

Wait what? Logan makes it a habit not to appear derailed, even when he is. But this time! His entrance into the room and direction towards a small writing desk, after Laurel's confirmation, is halted, turning to look at his aide. "You approached Kate?" he asks, eyes narrowing. He doesn't explain why he seems ruffled by a staff member contacting a publicly known supporter of his, just shakes his head briskly. "What kind of statement?"

"The statement we discussed was one in support of the White House's position on the current crisis, Mr. President," Cyprus states simply. "However, I cannot expect that to be the one she plans on giving. Undoubtedly, she plans to take advantage of the offer, and say exactly enough truth to be strong when attacked, and exactly enough lies to be dangerous. Quite possibly, she may even plan on defending her husband." If he enjoys the fact that he managed to actually make Logan lose his poise for a second, there is almost no sign of it. Almost. "Which is what I am hoping to accomplish. If she claims her husband did not mean to kill all the hundreds of people… then why does he remain at large? It allows us to extend the olive branch. After all, in doing so, she herself admits to be part and party to your brother's activities. If your brother did not intend to be a mass murderer, on what grounds does he not turn himself in?" There is a pause. "We need good PR, sir. And, besides, it doesn't excuse him of the deliberate murder of several Evolved. Which places him all the closer to his… dead contemporary."

There is no listening into this conversation at all. Really. Not a whisper. Laurel keeps her eyes on the shadows (there's ninjas, you know) and the furnature, in case she was wrong, but she's most certainly not listening to the two plot. Not at all.

Yes, Laurel gets front row seats (even though she's Totally Not even listening, not at all) to what could be an argument. However, Logan listens, coming to stand in the middle of the room rather than make himself comfortable. "On what grounds— ? He hates me, Donovan, and he hates everything I want to accomplish. We extend an olive branch and he'll just set fire to the thing." He points with his good hand, "Kate is unwell, and unreliable - at least behind closed doors and that's more than enough." Case in point. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"We are in the world's eye, Mr. President," says Cyprus easily. There is a confidence in his demeanor, something unshakable. He himself remains off to the left of the room, facing Logan. "There is talk that we, the government, created this train disaster, as a bid for sympathy. What government that caused the death of three hundred people would extend a fair trial to its scapegoat? Nothing personal, sir, but your brother is hardly the issue at stake. He's just one terrorist. We have to think of the future. Our kind's future." He smiles coldly. "We are a nation of evolution. If we are willing to forgive even your brother… Think of how that will make us look in the eyes of our kind around the world?"

Not raising her eyebrows at this discussion is really, really hard. Laurel keeps her eyes boring into the shadows. Come on, ninjas. Appear anytime now. She dares you.

That's the problem - too much of this is personal. Which is maybe why it was good for Cyprus to step in, but right now, that's tricky to see. Logan eyes him moodily for a good stretch of silence, before he turns to look at Laurel. "There's a container of pills on my desk," he says, voice utterly even, almost pleasant. "Retrieve that along with a glass of water. Thank you." Back to Cyprus, who gets a less icy look, now - it's clear Logan is taking this in, turning it over in his mind and viewing the consequences. It doesn't make him happy, but he's not about to take him skydiving out the open window without a parachute or something. "And you're certain in that my brother, a known terrorist with powers that haven't all been accounted for yet, didn't deliberately kill those people?"

"Oh, he most certainly deliberately killed the Evolved," says Cyprus swiftly. "The coroners even found me an agent whose face was telekinetically ripped off. As for whether your brother intentionally destroyed a train of people or not, I hardly think that matters, Mr. President. The truth is ultimately irrelevant. All that matters is what people believe to be the truth. If we are reasonable, then it is our enemies which must be unreasonable." Quid pro quo. And the master of spin smiles like someone sitting at a chessboard, and seeing it being eight moves from checkmate.

Pills. "Of course, Mr. President," Laurel says, looking away to walk over to the desk where the pills are and retrieve the container and the glass of water. Painkillers— she's pretty sure that's what they are. The President had been shot by an unknown assiliant. No one got a good look at them, or at least it wasn't described to her. As if it somehow wasn't important. Of course it's important, someone's— oh god did he just say a guy's face was ripped off? She lets out a hint of a squeak, but luckily does not drop water or pills on her trip back over. No want to meet President's brother, okay? Thank you.

What the special service deems to be important is, more often than not, what the President wants them to focus on. Which is why a 14-year-old girl who shot him on the shoulder can walk away, while a pirate broadcasting demands attention, in the world according to Logan. He lets Laurel just hold that glass as he awkwardly empties two pills into his palm. These are downed casually with water, the items passed back to his bodyguard. Well, she happens to be there, and this conversation is offlimits to wait staff! So she gets this duty, but she's paid highly, at least. "It matters to Peter," he points out, once this is done. "But I see what you're saying. Be careful with the leverage you're using, Kate— " He shakes his head. "Whatever she says can be used to our advantage, but all the same. Make sure there's no surprises. I want to know what she plans to do."

No surprises. None at all. Laurel doesn't seem to mind taking the pills back over to the desk and the resuming her position where she stands keeping watch. No ninjas attack. Nothing comes flying through the window. Maybe tonight will be a slow night— even if she heard a conversation she should promptly forget she ever heard.

"No surprises, sir," agrees Cyprus with a nod. "Unless there is anything further?" He lifts a brow, and smiles faintly.

Logan starts to shake his head, then hesitates, and nods once. "There is," he says, almost grimly. "I was told the coffee across the road was to die for. I don't mean to put anyone out, so if you could grab me a latte, that would be swell. Hold on the sugar, thanks." Dismissed. And that is what you get for being surprising. Logan adds, to Laurel, "Want anything, too?"

Laurel perks up in surprise. "Oh, yes, please. Mr. President." How unexpected! "A cafe mocha, please, thank you."

Cyprus lifts a brow slowly, and nods. "Certainly, sir," he replies. He casts a bit of a cold glare towards Laurel, and turns to head for the door.

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