[001 - video]

[freeholding]

[Two men have settled into one of the larger rooms of the Tower. One is tall and lean and looks vaguely untrustworthy, like someone you wouldn't want to share a cab with. He's got a mean-looking scar through the right side of his face, a silver pentacle around his neck, and a dramatic black leather duster hanging off his frame. He's the one seated on the floor, a circle drawn around him (was that done in chalk?) on the lumpy carpet.

The other man is far more respectable looking, but something about him would incite nervousness and distrust if you met him in person. He's older, with greying hair and eyes the color of dead grass. Dressed like a businessman in tailored Givenchy and silver cufflinks, there is nonetheless the sense of a prowling panther as he paces slowly around the outside of the circle.]

Are you ready? [says the man in the suit.]

[The one in the circle opens an eye to glare at his companion.] Are you interrupting a wizard when he's wizarding?

We're on a time table, Dresden.

A what? [The one by the name of "Dresden" squints at the other man like he's in awe of his existence.] I don't care how OCD you are, you don't have a time table yet.

Near and present danger.

Hell's bells, fine. Operation Stress-test commencing in five... four... [His voice trails off as he closes his eyes again, focusing before:] Hexus.

[There's a quick series of pops as all the lights burst into showers of sparks, power sockets go up smoke, and the NV's feed promptly goes dead.]

[[OOC: Blue font is Harry, Green font is John and they'll be replying separately to your comments!

If you'd like to play along, Harry just hexed the electrical things (lights, AC units, TVs, anything really) in their room, and the effect may spread to anyone nearby in the Tower apartments. Feel free to suddenly have a freezing cold shower or have your radio cut out, etc.]]

Comments

[doeswhathewants]

Is he? How fun. You'll need that, here.

Well met, John. And no, I've not heard of Monoc Securities. But, we are likely not of the same world. Very few are. Welcome to transdimensional Canada. Or, part of it. [Dresden-verse Loki would probably be a more frightening thing than an innocuous looking thirteen year old boy with a penchant for world saving mischief.]

[freeholding]

So I have heard. I had hoped that was simply propaganda. Of course, you may be an agent of one of the propagandists, so. [No offense. John has some research ahead of him.]

Ah. I had hoped. Thank you.

[doeswhathewants]

I do what I want. [Tiny agent of chaos.]

Why?

[freeholding]

Of which I have only your word. You must forgive me my skepticism, but it's a defensive mechanism that has saved my life in the past.

I knew a man who was more than a man, a Mr. Vadderung. I'd hoped you might be acquainted and perhaps able to contact him. Evidently not.

[doeswhathewants]

I'm not trying to convince you either way.

No. We are unable to contact those of our world from here, else my brother would have come and torn this place apart. Not very bright, but quite well versed on the smashing, he is.