Project Infinity - Thursday, August 16, 2001, 2:35 AM
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Infinity Pit Ruins

Once a huge Steel Mill converted over to a research facility for Project Infinity, this place is a twisted remnant of its former self. Advanced technological know-how, combined with funding from the city and private donors produced one of the most daring plans in the world, and it all went horribly wrong. This lot stands in testament to just how horribly things when wrong.
The remaining steel and concrete appears to be torn in thick shreds, while being twisted around. Thick titanium girders are bent like pipe cleaners, twisted beyond recognition. Slabs of concrete, half melted, almost seem to flow in a counter-clockwise pattern away from the location of the Infinity Pit. The actual device is gone, but its clear where it used to be. A metal plate blocks the way now, but beyond the plate is a shaft over a mile deep, the rock that makes up the sides fused into a seamless shell. Now and then, undispersed energy still discharges along the broken steel that juts up from the concrete like the ribs of some half decayed corpse, lighting up ruins briefly.


"So what do you think," Angelus says, looking away from the window of the limo, the streets scrolling by outside. "I think we get along pretty well. I mean, it's not your usual relationship, but that's kind of fitting."

Lara looks faintly surprised. "I hadn't any idea that you'd given thought to this 'relationship' at all." she says. "I didn't think it was appropriate to view it in those terms."

Angelus shrugs slightly, looking back to the window. Almost there. He actually feels a bit nervous. Tonight's the big night. "Well for lack of a better word then. And I have thought about it."

Lara's brows hit her hairline momentarily. What is he thinking? "And what have you thought about it?" she asks, trying to determine if she feels wary, or thrilled, or both.

Angelus turns away from the window, and slides forward in his seat, leaning closer. "Don't look so tense," he says with a smile. "I'm not about to get down on one knee here. I'm just trying to make myself clear. I'd hate to feel that you thought I considered you just a diversion from all these long years."

Lara looks half amused. "Don't you?" she points out. "As long as I keep amusing you, David - we're amicable company for each other. But I'm well aware that the minute I stop being amusing for you, your interests will wander elsewhere."

Angelus grins and opens his mouth to respond. He changes his answer though, as the car rolls to a stop in front of the ruins. "Maybe we can change your mind about that. I've got a surprise." He opens the door and climbs out, impatient. It's all so terribly exciting.

Lara follows, her braid swaying lightly against the length of her long coat. "Exactly how were you planning on redefining our relationship, then?" she inquires, then looks around, puzzled. Why are they at the ruins?

"It'll make sense in a minute, I promise," Angelus says, almost jogging up a little rise in the twisted landscape.

Lara walks a bit quicker to keep up, shaking her head with a wry grin of amusement. He looks like an eager little boy about to show off his Christmas present. It's actually rather charming.

Angelus tops the rise, and down in another little valley of the ground, is the demon-now-statue of Acathla, sword embedded in its chest. Intricate runic circles are drawn on the ground in front of it, in a variety of exotic substances and a lot of blood. Approaching silently behind Lara and Angelus are two of his pet vampires.

Lara blinks and stops dead. That's - "Acathla." she says. "David, where did he come from? How did he get here? What are you doing?" she takes a few steps forward, stopping at the edge of the circle. "What's going on?" Her eyes are bright, fierce - she doesn't show fear, but she's definitively not happy.

"Angelus," the vampire corrects. He's been doing a lot of correcting misconceptions lately, it seems. The two vampires move to try and each grab one of Lara's arms. "I know, you're new here, you probably haven't heard of me. And I'm about to rouse all that nice demonic power our stoned friend here's holding."

Lara looks at him, her brow furrowing, her eyes widening in shock - and then, rather then fear, /outrage/. "Angelus? /You're/ Angelus? You lied to me?! You pissant excuse for a blood sucking tosser, you lied to me?!" She struggles a bit, still a spitfire, even while held down.

Angelus shrugs looking aggravatingly coy, trying not to smile. "What can I say? At yet," he says, starting to pace, closing hands into fists. "I still /really/ get a kick out of you. And I thought I'd be a real shame to let you die when the rest of this little world gets destroyed. Of course, a demon wouldn't be killed."

Lara pauses in her struggle. "A demon? What do you mean?" She knows damn well what he means, but she wants to hear him say it.

"You know," Angelus says, moving a bit closer, not smiling anymore. His face makes the transition to the vampiric one. "No one ever believes it when we say this, but you /will/ thank me once it's been done."

Lara looks at him. "Angelus...anything I mean to you would be lost if you brought me over. You /know/ that." Perceptive, isn't she? But she doesn't realize yet that he'd rather have her with a few flaws then not at all. In a warped, twisted way, it's kinda sweet. Not.

Angelus smiles widely. What a gal. Didn't even try to appeal to sentimentality. "Not completely. Oh sure, some of it. But some is better than nothing. And I just /hate/ losing something that belongs to me. If there was another way...." He spreads his hands with a little uncertain look, and shrugs.

Lara's brain kicks into high gear. Stall. Time. She needs time. "I remember reading about this ritual." she says. "It takes seven days to complete, doesn't it? Before the portal opens to Hell?" Keep calm, Lara. She looks him in the demonic eye, waits for his response.

Angelus' face shifts back to normal, partly for the purpose of raising an eyebrow. "Lara," he chides gently. "You're not going to embarrass us both with some excuse are you." But she's right. The damn delay annoys the heck out of him too. "So let's say it does."

Lara looks at him. "Then allow me that time. There are affairs that I need to get into order. Things I would want to see before I either die, or I'm not able to see them anymore. You can give me that time. Seven days, and then either I let you have me, or I die like all the rest." she pitches her voice carefully, just enough to imply that he might actually be fearful of her possible desertion, banking a little bit on how important she -might- be to him. "Surely you could allow me that."

Angelus rolls his eyes and turns away, rubbing a hand against the side of his face. This would be easier if he understood her better. Of course, then he wouldn't care. Maybe certain death /does/ frighten her. "And what if you chose to die? Cause /gosh/ I'd miss yah," he says, turning back around and beaming.

Lara says calmly, "Then I die. Either way, you ultimately get what you want." she nods her chin toward Acathla. "That."

"Let's get one thing clear," Angelus says, smile fading, shaking a finger as he approaches again. "I get that no matter what. I've got the ring, I've got the statue, I've got the attitude and no one can stop me. I know all about how to seal it too, and it won't happen." He holds up his right hand, waggling his fingers and showing off the ring. He smiles and says in a little singsong voice, "Cause I got the riiing. Tell you what. I'll go over there, open up the gate to hell, and I'll think about it. Sit tight now."

Lara says calmly, "Exactly my point. Either way, you win." She settles down though, not bothering to struggle.

"I'd still miss you," he calls back as he descends the hill. "I mean, I'd get over it," he continues, stepping into the circle. He's mostly talking to himself. "There'd be a few minutes where I'd be pretty bummed. But you know, I'd move on." Angelus puts a hand on the hilt of the sword, tugging experimentally. "I mean, I'll have a whole dimension to worry about at the time." He stops pulling, and starts muttering in a demon tongue.

Lara strains to listen, her brain continuing to work in high gear. A dozen references run through her mind, but she'd need to be at a computer to truly narrow down the information she needs. She diverts her attention to the pair on either side of her, trying to feel if their grips have slackened during the course of conversation.

Angelus continues the demonic chant, a guttural language that seems to favour harsh consonants and few vowels. Kinda Klingonish. His minions are watching the ritual, enrapt, as the circle on the ground begins to glow. The blade glows with light in a weird kind of sympathy.

Enrapt is good. Especially when she suddenly snakes her hands around to grip their wrists, use their own arms as leverage, and curls her torso to bring both legs up to smack them sharply in each vampire's face.

Angelus hears the sound of Lara's lovely little feet smacking into the vampires' faces. But he can't turn around to look. Mustn't be distracted from the ceremony. The demonic words rise to a pitch as the vampires lose their grip, snarling angrily and clutching at their faces. Steel on stone rings out as the sword begins to slide free.

Lara has her guns out and in her hands as she whirls to face the pair, aiming at each one's forehead. It'll put them down long enough for her to get away, and all the other vamps are too busy attending on the ceremony.

Angelus does note the gunshots, and the fact that he didn't feel any bouncing off him. Aww, she still cares. The two vampires that were holding her are blown back by the impact, going down with a bullet in their heads. With a final ringing of steel, the sword is free. Angelus holds it overhead, as it glows with an unearthly red light, his voice raising to a shout.

Lara glances one look older her shoulder before she starts to take off as fast as she can, taking a final glimpse at her former lover as she races out of the ruins.


Holmes' Apartment - Elm Hollow Road(#756RFJ)
This is a relatively small, dingy apartment that is nonetheless blessed with a large living area. The window is small, and barred, despite being on the second floor, and the walls are solid. The furniture is clearly secondhand, acquired piecemeal from thrift stores and discount outlets. A broad threadbare couch and a few creaking, corduroy armchairs with pointless curlicues on the stumpy legs rest before the tiny fireplace. Tossed carelessly on the ground is a pile of cushions and pillows, and the overriding sense of the living area is clutter. Piles of books are stacked on the floor, on tables, under tables, on each other, mostly cheap, second- and third-hand books on gruesome and esoteric subjects. A stack of scrapbooks are jammed in one corner, newspaper clippings protruding out and fluttering slightly in the air from the ventilation duct that sticks into the room in an ungainly fashion. A door leads back to a bedroom that contains a bed and nothing else. Whoever lives here apparently lives in the main room, and is a smoker, the pungent odor of tobacco lingering in the air.
The kitchenette, visible from the living area, has some kind of chemical apparatus in the sink, but is kept appallingly clean, even when at its most cluttered.
 

Lara knocks frantically on the door, leaning against the doorjamb as she waits for Holmes to open up.

Holmes comes to the door in his dressing-gown and slippers, and is smoking his pipe, unlatching everything and throwing the door open. For some reason he doesn't seem displeased or annoyed. Perhaps he sensed the urgency.

Lara comes in, closing the door firmly behind her. She looks as if she ran across the city. She did. After a few moments of panting, she says, "Give me a drink, Holmes." A pause. "Please."

Holmes sweeps one off the kitchen counter. Already prepared. Brandy, slightly warmed, the perfect constitutional. "Only two shots?" he murmurs half to himself, then, with a sweep of his arm, clears away a spot on the couch. He took the time to make her a drink, but not the time to get his junk picked up. Typical Holmes.

Lara sinks down as if her knees have gone to jelly, and accepts the drink, of which she swallows the majority of in the first draw. "I've made a terrible mistake." she says blearily, a vague sort of horror in her voice.

Holmes sinks into his own armchair and takes the pipe from his mouth. "It affects his vulnerability to sunlight, at the very least, doesn't it?" he says, but - again, perhaps surprisingly - not without a gentle sympathy. The only one he chides is himself. "I should have anticipated it. But please tell me all."

Lara looks away. "I thought he wanted it to fight the others. But dear God, Holmes," she chokes. "Not to raise Acathla. Not to bring Hell on Earth."

Holmes tsks gently. "Begin at the beginning." he urges. "Finish the drink, I have more."

Holmes then gets to his feet and crosses over to a four-volume dictionary of the occult and looks up a few cross-references carelessly. (He leaves the books on the table where he puts them, with delicate bookmarks that nonetheless look exactly like all the other hundred or so bookmarks in the book.) Smoke curls up from his pipe as he listens to Lara.

Lara sighs. "We met one night at Cafe Vachel. He was quite attractive, knowledgeable, dashing. We got to talking. Met up again, seemingly by chance at the museum. Got to talking some more. We went out to the opera one night, and we were attacked by vampires. During the fight, I noticed that they were trying to kill him in the same way he'd told me they can be killed. I confronted him with a crucifix I'd made, and confirmed it - he was a vampire." she laughs bitterly, "A vampire with a soul, he claimed. He said he'd been cursed. And since the other vampires had attacked him, I was willing to believe it."

Holmes says softly. "But he'd arranged the whole thing, hadn't he? Ach." Just prompting, not judging.

Lara shakes her head. "I don't know...I think he's not the only powerful one...they may have been genuinely trying to eliminate him." she continues, leaning on the arm of the couch, "He told me about this artifact, the Gem of Amarra...said he could use it to fight the other vampires, and had been looking for it for decades. He asked me to try and find it for him, and he paid me handsomely to do it. In addition, of course..." she lets it hang. They're become lovers. Of course.

Holmes closes his eyes and sighs deeply. "Yes, of course." he says. "/That/ much was obvious. But you managed to keep most of this information from me completely. Alas I fear that is a cold comfort at this point. Then you and the others went and retrieved the jewel..."

Lara nods. "He was so happy, he was like a little boy who'd gotten the Christmas present he'd always wished for." she sighs, leaning her elbow on the armrest, and her forehead in her hand. "The gem grants regeneration to one who wears it, but for a vampire - absolute immunity to all things that could destroy it. He can even walk in the light of the sun. He's impossible to kill. And he used the gem to find Acathla - the demon that nearly swallowed the world, hundreds of thousands of years ago."

Holmes sighs again and flings himself back in his armchair, steepling his fingers before him.

Lara says woodenly, "Acathla was defeated once, by a holy knight - and as powerful demons sometimes do when they are defeated, he turned to stone. The knight's sword was embedded in Acathla's chest for eternity...and with the proper invocations, the stone being of Acathla and the release of the sword open a gateway to Hell." she looks over at him. "We have seven days before there is Hell on Earth."

Holmes doesn't reply immediately. He just sits and smokes. Not sulking. Staring at nothing with a fierce intensity. Smoke curls out of his mouth. He takes the pipe out and lays it gently in a tray. Then curls his legs up under him and thinks some more.

Holmes finally comes to a conclusion:

Holmes says "We can stop it in a little over six days. But the margin will be slim."

Lara notes wryly, "I've already tried to go through what I recall of my research. I'll need a bit of time at a computer, but I think I can find something to stop this." she pauses. "And there's at least one person I want to consult."

Holmes nods. "Utilize Seishi for detail work. She's an ideal researcher and has a tidy mind." he says, with the same warm tone other men use for 'she's gorgeous'. "Dr. Jones can supplement your knowledge. Who is this consultant? Perhaps if I have not factored her into my calculations we might have a greater margin."

Holmes almost sounds like he's giving orders except he gives them so flatly and crisply that he might as well be saying "two plus two makes four" or "it rained today".

Lara shakes her head. "Demonology isn't Dr. Jones' field. John Constantine, on the other hand, is a mage, and from what I understand, one of some repute."

Holmes lifts a finger. "However, Dr. Jones has a great deal of experience with ancient orders of holy knights." he corrects. Then he pauses. "Care should be taken." he says to Lara. "Mr. Constantine has acid for blood, and is not unacquainted with demons himself. I mean 'acquainted' in the most literal sense."

Lara says firmly, "If he tries to pull one over, I'll shoot him myself."

Holmes smiles tightly. "Do so from a distance. I calculate that his blood can eat through one ounce of mahogany in five to seven seconds." he says. Then he goes to the same distant realm of calculation for a long moment. "How precisely will this person...I'm sorry, you never mentioned his name...release this demon?"

Lara sighs. "Angelus. He's already performed the ceremony, I couldn't stop him."

Holmes smiles crookedly and HAs grimly. "So /he/ only has to perform the ceremony. /We/ must find the sword that defeated him and get it into the hands of the appropriate person. And who says the world is without challenge?" He leaps to his feet, eyes alight, running his hand through his hair and smoothing it down. "And what else do you know about this demon?" He scoops up his violin and swings right into a deeply moving and complicated air that Lara's never heard before because he's making it up just now.

Lara blinks, she's not about to talk over the music. So she waits, and lets it soothe her, just a little bit.

Holmes breezes to a halt. (Carnegie Hall, in his mind, applauds him generously.) He turns back to Lara with great interest.

You say "The sword that defeated the Acathla was plunged into his chest. Angelus removed it, thus beginning the cycle. But there's another sword I read about, blessed by the same knight...if I can locate it, we can go get it. If we can somehow get the ring of Angelus, and he's killed with the blessed sword before Acathla opens his mouth completely, we can stop it.""

Holmes says "We need his ring. Hm. Interesting. Under what circumstances did you leave?"

Holmes is bluntly asking if she could go back.

Lara twists her lips in a bitter smile. "He had me held by two of his minions while the rest and he were in the ritual. He knew I could get away from them, but didn't want to make it look like he'd just let me go." she presses her lips together tightly, "You see, he wants to make me like him, so that he'll have me with him when the Earth's overrun. He doesn't want me to die, and he figures it's better that he have me as a vampire then be dead like the rest of humanity. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't get over it if I did die." her tone is wry. "So I can go back to him, under the guise of him believing I'll agree to be turned into a vampire."

Holmes nods a little. "And you'll need someone to go with you to make sure you aren't." he says, and he's not making an argument, he's stating a fact. "I recommend Seishi and myself."

What? Not just the great Sherlock Holmes?

You say "I'll want to get the sword first. If I can get close enough to him to get the ring, I can open the way for someone to go at him with the sword." she tilts her head. "I'm surprised you trust another to be as capable as you."

Holmes laughs easily. "Seishi is my superior in /some/ fields." he says. And he leaves it at that. At least the guy knows he can't be weightless. "I think your plan is sound."

Holmes says "I've spent many years training with the sword. Unless a superior candidate can be found - or unless, as I suspect, the sword must be wielded by a particular person or set of persons - I will have it myself."

Holmes is clearly assuming that the sword can be found and retrieved.

Lara nods. "I'll need the time to research, but I could have it by tomorrow. I know it's somewhere in Europe, and the odds are that it's in Spain."

Holmes nods. "Use our associates. Dr. Jones is a specialist and Seishi is attentive to research." he urges. "And keep me informed fully." Note that he doesn't volunteer himself for the grunt work of looking up bits and pieces and tracking down niggling details.

Lara eyes him. "You've an annoying habit of that, you know." she says despite herself.

Holmes says drily, "I have many annoying habits, Lara." Not the least of which is that he always says her name just /so/. "Which one have you now noticed?"

You say "The one where you decide you're in charge before consulting everyone else. I can put up with you knowing half of what I'm going to tell you before I open my mouth, in fact I find it amusing. But I suppose I'm too much of a control freak to ever appreciate someone else's tendency to be a control freak.""

Holmes laughs brightly, eyes alive. He turns and swings back into the violin again, a long and jaunty passage, laced with jazz stylings. It seems he's been absorbing the music. At its conclusion, he says, "I'll try not to be annoyed if you will do the same. I don't think either of us has much of a chance of changing what we are."

Lara says simply, "It'll depend on the situation, honestly. If I really don't feel you should be placing yourself at the head of the monster, you know I'll speak up. Fair enough?"

Holmes mms, and for his reply, drops back down into his chair, folds his legs up under him like some Eastern mystic and puts his pipe back in his mouth, looking deeply satisfied.

Lara salutes him wryly with her glass. "This of course, assumes that anyone from our party will wish to have anything to do with me ever again." She shouldn't care, really she shouldn't. But she does.

Holmes removes his pipe from his mouth and lays it down sidelong. He looks at her with curious eyes for a long moment and says nothing. Finally he speaks. "Ridiculous." he declares. "Your performance ranged only between average and admirable. Even I have had my...day-offs."

Lara arches a brow. "My performance?" She's more puzzled by that, then humored by his 'confession'.

Holmes says "Performance in the science of observation. You were deceived by a master of deception. There's certainly no /shame/ in that, even if we would have showered you with accolades had you immediately seen through the facade."

Lara laughs, again with that shade of bitter. "He's a master of half truths. He wants me. On his terms." her expression turns fierce. "He shan't have me."

Holmes watches Lara closely, and he says softly, almost reverently, "No, I don't believe he shall." Then back goes the pipe into his mouth and he leans back into the armchair, far away again.

Lara sighs. "I don't know if I'm safe to go back to my apartment....no, he wouldn't try to get to me there. His henchmen can't come in, and he won't bother me tonight. He rather expects me to leave town, and if I can confirm the sword's locale, I'll oblige him."

Holmes takes the pipe out of his mouth and says, "Yes, well, if you would like to stay here, you certainly may." without really thinking about it. Household details are really not his thing.

Lara grins. "There's no room here, Holmes. But thank you for the offer."

Holmes seems testy. "There's plenty of room. You don't think after news of this kind that I'll be going to /bed/, do you?"

Lara arches a brow. "I'll be fine, Holmes." she assures. "Even if you weren't taking up the bed, this place is a tad cramped."

Holmes nods curtly and puts his pipe back in his mouth, relaxing again. Apparently he agrees.


Glory Heights Apartments--East Main

The austere Glory Heights Apartments Building. This exclusive 'housing opportunity' rises out of a cluster of carefully tended trees in the center of the small, private park built around the complex. Tall reflective windows slice long rows through the red and white sandstone, the dark glass affording the tenants of this Mecca a one-way view of the city. A luxurious roof-top pool gleams sapphire blue from the tenth floor. Four penthouse suites occupy the four outer corners of the roof, but the pool is open to all tenants. An understated parking-garage is also available.
Inside the building, past the keycard-secured doors, dusky red carpet cushions the path to a bank of eight elevators with shining bronze doors. Just beyond the elevators is the manager's office, hidden behind frosted glass walls. Past the manager's office, to the right is the private gym. Rowing machines, weights and treadmills, waiting to be used, lie dormant. Personal trainers are on call 12 hours a day. Four large potted plants ponder their leafy thoughts, one standing in between each pair of elevator doors.


Lara sits in her apartment, at the computer. The terrace doors have been left open for the summer night's breeze to waft the curtains gently. The lights are off, and Lara's typing is nothing more then soft clicks, almost a comforting sound.

It is a measure of his estimation of her that he chooses to knock instead of just working on the lock himself. Nicolas raps his fist against the door politely.

Lara rises, nabbing one of her guns on the way. "Who is it?" she calls softly.

"It's Nicolas," he answers, resting an elbow at head level on the doorframe. Almost said Simon. Bad boy..

Lara opens the door, keeping the gun tucked behind her leg. She looks around the hallway first. No one roaming. Good. "Come in." she says. "Quickly."

Nicolas raises his eyebrows and tosses aside any number of blithe remarks, and steps in. Doesn't seem like the time to be funny. "What's wrong?"

Lara shakes her head. "You may not believe me if I tell you."

Nicolas looks at the door behind him, checking it out of pure habit. "I can usually catch a lie. I take it this is not the time for a night on the town."

Lara says honestly, "I would just as soon stay in." she then adds casually, "The world as we know it is going to be destroyed in seven days, if I'm not able to find the artifact that can be used to defeat the one who's doing the destroying."

Nicolas tilts his head to one side, lines creasing his brow as he watches her. It doesn't look like she's kidding. Or lying. He could be wrong. "I've seen odd things since coming here. Are you....seven days?" What?

Lara nods. "Seven." her lips press together tightly. "And it's my fault."

"If I asked you to explain," Simon starts slowly, blinking. "Would it make any more sense?"

Lara says slowly, "Perhaps. My...patron, the one who granted me this apartment, had me get that artifact for him? Is Angelus. The Crime Lord. Only I didn't know it, until tonight."

Nicolas frowns a bit, and looks for a seat to sprawl out in, and settles for the couch. "So it's him then?" He chews at his lower lip. "Let us assume for the moment I accept this as given. You plan to do something about it."

Lara nods. "The larger part of the plan is narrowing down the location of a sword.. it's in Spain somewhere. That sword was blessed by the same knight that slew the demon Angelus has resurrected. I'm going to get it, and I'm going to use it to kill Angelus. If I kill him, the doorway to Hell won't open." a pause. "Of course, I'll have to get the Gem of Amarra off of him first. With the ring on, he's invincible."

"Of course," Nicolas says blandly. But eyes are twinkling. If he ever wanted a storybook adventure...."If this is a delusion it's an incredibly exciting one."

Lara gives him an icy look. "Do I look delusional to you, Simon?" she uses the name deliberately.

Nicolas clears his throat in self awareness. "You are threatening a very secure image I have of the world about me." He meets her gaze a moment longer and looks away, lolling his head back. "Oh hell. I met a woman today, at least I think she was a woman, who can look like whomever she wants with a thought. The world ending is a /far/ less disturbing concept that that." It's so unfair. "I believe you."

"Good." she says, and then a moment later, "How's your Spanish these days?"

Nicolas looks absolutely delighted at the implications of the question. "Es perfecto, senora," he says with a smile.

Lara ahh's. "Senorita." she replies. "I'm not married." she smiles, though it's not entirely without worry, stress, and anger. But all in good time.

"But you will be for this trip," Nicolas says, eagerly. Why go as yourself when you can go as somewhere else. "I'll have to work fast on passports. Mmm. Need a name..." he's starting to get wrapped up in planning.

Lara grins. "There will be other people coming, Simon. They'll be needed. Keep an eye out, and I'll let you know."

Nicolas's words trail off. And there she goes with that Simon stuff. Enough to drive a man crazy, in a good way. "How many?" He's thinking again. "Taking a...what is it? A sword? Out of a European nation without permission..."

Lara says simply, "I'll let you know." she pats his arm, purrs, "I know you're up to the challenge."

She's probably manipulating him. He can live with that. "I've never worked for free."

Lara says promptly, "You won't have to. I'll pay."

"Never be too eager. See, you've told me the whole world is in the balance." Simon shakes his head in reproach. "So I know how important this is. I'm afraid I couldn't do it for less than...dinner at La Parisien."

Lara laughs in delight, despite herself. "Done."