STORY

[Hannibal Krane]

Hann usually tended to avoid the more popular de Winter clubs. Not because he didn't enjoy them (far from it), but because he figured it wouldn't be a smart place to hang around. Tom had never openly said anything to him about it, but Hann got the impression he didn't like his off-sider hanging around where he might accidentally let slip something he shouldn't to a de Winter intelligence person. Not that he'd ever make that mistake.

He wore his usual ensemble- a white suit with a red pinstriped tie and matching fedora. Though the weather was reaching the coldest part of the year, it didn't overly worry Hann. He was used to much lower temperatures. He lined up outside the club like the other party-goers- he could have used his influence to get in much sooner, but he preferred to keep his profile low. As he waited in line, one over-eager girl ahead of him was jumping up and down to illustrate something to the friends she was with, and ended up treading lightly on one of his toes. Hann swore lightly, and shifted his foot away, giving the girl an ugly look (though she didn't appear to have noticed).

He felt a tap on his shoulder- looking behind him, he saw another woman dressed elegantly, only she appeared to wear her clothing with more self-love than Hann thought existed.

"Swearing like that- do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Hann eyed the woman up, giving her a short appraising stare. Dressed to the nines, but obviously just looking for a toy-boy. He'd seen her type before. To the woman's irritation, he offered a smug smile and dropped the first line that came to mind.

"No, gran. I kiss YOUR mother with that mouth. Perhaps you'd like to know where?"

The woman looked like she was going to have a fit of apoplexy. Hann just grinned and turned back towards the front of the line as finally the bouncer started letting people in. A few minutes later he was inside, leaning against the bar and eyeing the establishment. There was a band already striking up on the stage to the bar's right, and Hann was so far impressed with what he could hear.

He casually looked around, keeping an eye out for...whoever she was. It occured to him he had no idea what she looked like....he shrugged inwardly. He figured he'd find out in good time- and if he made a mistake, well.....it seemed to be his night for making mistakes so far.

[Cassandra de Winter]

The Bag O'Nails was one of Cassandra de Winter's homes, thus the reason she had told the caller to meet her here. They were in her territory, and most of the regulars here were friends, not to mention the staff. Sergei wouldn't be the only one defending her if she was attacked in any way. So, as was custom, she was in the doors as soon as she got there, even if it wasn't open quite yet. Her sweats had been shed and now she was in a simple black cocktail dress with white trim. An attractive outfit to be sure, but not overly revealing. It didn't scream sex at least, and she had an idea that once whoever it was found that they'd called Cassandra de Winter they'd be trying hard enough without any extra encouragement. No, it was simple for her tonight.

Walking up to the bar she chatted with the owner for bit, waiting to order a drink until he was fully ready. Cass tried to be considerate of those that worked for the de Winters. Just because they were under her didn't mean that she needed to make their lives miserable. It wasn't imperative that she get a drink right this second, so she waited. Besides, she and Sergei needed to talk.

But the minutes went by and her bodyguard was still discussing things with the bouncers so she ordered a drink from a barman who had finally finished preparing for the night. With a smile she ordered her favorite, a glass of red. Nothing like a small bit of wine to clear her head. And so, she passed the rest of the time sipping wine and having pleasant conversation with the bar staff. It was rather nice talking to people without having to watch your every word.

A small tap was on her shoulder and she turned, the staff returning to their jobs as she turned to face Sergei, eyebrow quirked. "Do you have to scare everyone away?" A laugh was on her lips, curling them.

He chuckled, leaning against the bar next to her. "I believe those are the exact words your father used to describe my job."

The heiress snorted softly, but couln't help from smiling in return. "Sounds like my father." She placed the glass of red on the bar and spun her stool to face him, legs crossed. "Now, what did you tell the bouncers?"

"They are to let the same type of people in as they usually do, but to be on guard once the place gets full. Anyone with a malicious glance towards you will be thrown out."

Cassandra sighed. "So, no different from any other night." She lifted her glass and swirled it slightly before taking a sip. As she finished her head cocked ever so slightly. "What took you so long?"

Sergei rolled his eyes and gave a grimace. "You'll see."

And with that enigmatic statement people began to fill the room. For a few minutes he hung by her side, watchful and wary, before slipping away quietly to take up his post somewhere else. Her eyes scanned the room, trying to match faces to a voice until she saw someone... unexpected. Down the bar, about five seats or so, was Hannibal Krane, a Treymaine higher up. He hung out with Evan a bit as well, she'd seen them together. Conversation with him was interesting enough, but the heiress had never spoken to him outside of a formal Family function. She trusted him about as far as she did any Treymaine besides Evan. Little to none. Her eyes swept over him once more appraisingly, before she turned back to the bar. Cass had seen.

[Hannibal Krane]

After getting a drink from the bartender (nothing too strong yet, just a measure of Jameson's on ice), Hann leaned back on the bar and let his eyes roam. He did a second take of the band, they were doing an excellent rendition of Chuck Berry's "You Never Can Tell". He nodded his head lightly in time to the beat. Though no one would pick him for it, he knew the words off by heart.

He let his gaze continue moving along. So far no one was ringing any bells, but that wasn't surprising. This was the first time he'd been out to the Bag O' Nails. If it wasn't for the phone call, he'd never have come at all. It hadn't taken him long to notice Sergei Baronov, a de Winter bodyguard tasked to the de Winter heiress, if he remembered his intelligence briefs. Which probably meant she wouldn't be too far away....

Ah.

Hann hadn't really had much to do with Cassandra. He knew enough about her through intelligence- though now his curiosity was piqued. Tensions between the two families hadn't exactly been great recently, and if he'd been allowed inside while the de Winter heiress was also here, it was most likely at her request. That explained the calculating look he'd been flashed by the bouncers when he came in the door. No wonder her bodyguard was staying well within range should something happen. Hann decided that it was probably a bad idea him staying around- he didn't fear de Winter security by any means, but he wasn't out to go annoying people for the sake of it either. That being said, he decided to say his respects to the lovely Miss de Winter and head out.

He got off his stool, and made his way through the crowd towards her, ensuring he didn't make any untoward movements. He was unarmed, which was a change. He hadn't been expecting any trouble tonight, and he certainly wasn't going to go looking for any. He approached carefully, and tipped his hat, holding the drink in his other hand.

"Evening Miss de Winter. A pleasure to see you." he managed in his usual Scottish drawl. "How does the evening find you?"

[Cassandra de Winter]

As she saw Krane begin to move out of the corner of her eye, her body remained about as relaxed as Sergei's was tense. Even from her distance and point of view she knew he was stiffening. They both knew the man's reputation as a flirt and since Sergei had always been a sort of elder brother figure to her, she supposed he was feeling a bit protective. His values were a little more traditional, and Cass knew that anytime a man made a pass at her or bedded her Sergei was disgusted. Not that she cared. Her personal life was her own business, but she couldn't help but feel a tiny bit apologetic for continuously putting him through such emotional turmoil. As trained as he was, he hid it well. And as trained as she was, she saw through the mask.

Hannibal reached her and she turned her head coolly towards him, giving the Treymaine a pleasantly neutral look. Why was he here? He never frequented any sort of de Winter establishment unless it was official business. And he was being very cautious and formal towards her, almost as if he hadn't expected her to be here. So who was he here for then? Had Dylan ordered him here to sniff something out? Her eyes glanced towards Sergei ever so briefly and saw that he thought the same thing and was annoyed. Hannibal being here only made this more difficult.

Wait. One. Fucking. Second.

As his Scottish drawl enveloped her ears she realized that it sounded eerily familiar. And not just because she'd talked to him on occasion but because she'd talked to him less than two hours ago... on her cell phone. The thought made her want to laugh and swear at the same time. Had Hannibal Krane really drunk-dialed the de Winter heiress? As she nodded her head in return, the pleasantly neutral smile still on her face, Cassandra drummed her fingers along the side of her wine glass where Sergei could see it. It was a signal: they'd found him. But would Krane realize that she was the woman he'd asked for a quick fuck merely hours ago? Sergei stiffened even more as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.

"Quite well, thank you." She took a small sip of her red, succeeding at hiding the amusement that was bubbling inside of her. "And yourself? What brings you to the Bag O' Nails?" Simple small talk. Cass hoped he'd figure this out for himself. She wanted to see the look on his face.

[Hannibal Krane]

It was a little-known fact that Hann was fairly competent at reading people. It was a holdover from his days in the military, and it had served him well throughout the years, saving him from more than one sticky situation. So when Cassandra's bodyguard stiffened as he approached, Hann gave the man a respectful nod and a gaze that more or less gave away his intentions. Just saying hello. Hann couldn't fault the man, if it were his job to protect the de Winter heiress, he'd probably have a few people within close range should something happen....Ah.

Right there, not a few feet away at the bar, sat a fairly nondescript individual that said 'hardarse' loud and clear to anyone with half a brain. He was sitting facing the mirror behind the bar, so even without trying his eyes were naturally resting right on Cassandra's position. Very clever. If Hann had had his doubts about leaving politely before, they had been cemented now. That little man in his head was waving a big red flag, and Hann was beginning to wonder why. Surely her bodyguards didn't think he was going to potentially jeopardize the fragile Truce between the de Winters and the Treymaines?

Before he could say anything more however, her voice set off a little bell of recognition, and that little man was suddenly belting out "MIS-TAAAAAAKE!!!" in a perfect Tenor voice. It took all his training not to alter his composure, despite the fact that he was now fully aware of the situation. For him to be seen associating with the de Winter heiress.....Unthinkable. Too many people would profit from it. Hann relied on his lack of notoriety. People knew he was a Treymaine, but they didn't know precisely what he did. And as for Cassandra....well, it was a wonder her guards had even let him through the door. Which probably meant the only reason he was still here was by her request.

So. He allowed a small smile to cross his lips, knowing full well by the look on her face that she'd figured him out as well. Be damned if he was going to own up to it though. He figured he could risk a little amusement before he made his polite exit. "Well, as it happens I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. Bit of a blind date, and to be honest probably nothing will come of it. You know how it is with these things, she's probably some 18 year old wannabe Goth with scars on her arms, too much mascara and delusions of sparkly vampires." He tossed off the last of his drink, and offered his trademark lopsided grin. "And your good self? What brings you here this pleasant eve?"