2014.02.24 - One Thing Leads To Another

Even Imperators need to eat. And while there are restaurants that cater to the wealthy and famous, there's nowhere like Weinstein's delictary. It makes a bit of everything- pastries, sweets, 'real' food, and so on. It's one of the best-kept secrets in Greenwich Village, and the kind of place everyone likes to keep local.

So incognito, Magneto had snuck down to the delicatessen, wearing a snappy suit of Saville Row cut, complete with fedora. His clothes are new and hand-fitted, and he looks more a man out of time than an anachronistic dresser. The lack of bodyguards helps keep him from standing out any more than the average 30 year old man- though there's a force of presence about him that seems to project forward like a bow wave, marking him silently among the people there. A few /do/ know him, however, and a small tide of applause and even a few cheers go up as he enters. Magneto smiles cannily and offers a few discreet waves, demurely choosing not to grandstand.

Jeanne Foucault is sitting in one corner of Weinstein's, laptop set on the table and a tall glass of mocha frappe set next to her, along with an empty plate with some crumbs indicating she did enjoy a meal earlier. Her fingers move in a rather frantic pace on the keys, creating a background music of percussion, while her eyes are ever set on the screen until a unique man walks into the establishment.

At first it seems to Jeanne like someone who couldn't possibly be an ordinary man, and for a few moments she looks up from her laptop's screen. The applause from some of the patrons only confirm what she had suspected. She now splits her attention between her computer screen and Magneto, letting him have the opportunity to order something before she'll get up and approach him directly. She does prove rather bold for her age. "Mr. Lehnsherr!" The proprietor of the shop comes around the counter, a little man as wide as he is tall, and beaming a huge smile. His hair is wearing away into a neat tonseur, and his pate and cheeks are reddened with exertion. He comes up a step short- "oh! Should I say, 'Your Majesty?'" he asks, offering a bow. He then grabs Magneto's hand and pumps it firmly in the way old people tend to do.

Magneto grins down at the smaller fellow. "Abraham, so good to see you, old friend," he tells the man in a resonant baritone. He claps his shoulder. "How's your son? Is he settling in well at the Academy?"

They chatter on for a few moments, then Abe scuttles behind the counter to fill Magneto's order while the Imperator finds an empty table and settles in at it. Timorously, a few young people approach to ask him questions or get his autograph, and it quickly becomes apparent that not only is this a nice kosher delicatessen, it's also a haven for young mutants. It's a bit of a niche, but apparently quite a popular one.

Jeanne silently observes the exchange between Magneto and Abraham, and then looks displeased when a bunch of youngsters approach Magneto, waiting rather impatiently before she approaches him in turn if somewhat more directly then the others. "Your accomplishment is nothing short of spectacular, Mr. Lehnsherr, forcing a mutant nation despite what the world's community of wouldbe leaders had to say about it." Without asking for permission, she sits down infront of Magneto and looks up at him, "I wouldn't expect a man of your stature to come here...that's a very encouraging sign, Mr. Lehnsherr."

Both of Magneto's eyebrows go up at Jeanne seats herself. "By all means. Please, have a seat," he says in a flat, unironic tone. He settles his walking stick against the seat adjacent to him, and regards Jeanne with a scrutinizing examination, pursing his lips momentarily.

In perfect Hebrew, then, he says: "Despite your remarkable abilities, young lady, it is still considered rude to seat onself at the table of a social superior without first asking permission," he says in a scolding tone that only a good Hebrew teacher can do justice. A few people pointedly look the other way as he brings Jeanne to task.

"Now," he says, returning to English, "would you care to try this again? Manners and etiquette apply to us all, young lady, despite station or age."

"Thank you," Jeanne quips, seeming utterly oblivious to the fact it could well have been a pointer for her to mind her manners. Either way she doesn't appear to conceive of taking it that way. Jeanne proves attentive even when Magneto shifts to Hebrew, she listens, seems to understand and even replies in perfect fluency, not even showing an American accent: "I would go the petulant route and suggest you are not my father, but that would be obvious to the two of us. I tend to be direct, I'm sorry if I offended your sensibilities and sense of decorum. But it is not everyday I get to meet a person who changed the world by sheer force of will. I could learn a great deal from you, least of all table manners."

Rather surprising for her age, but Jeanne doesn't even flinch at the scolding tone, taking it in stride and not letting her emotions injure over the slight and reprimand that follows. A clashing mature reaction to her rather immature behavior in disregarding Magneto's private space. When the conversation switches to English, she does the same, looking quite surprised when Magneto insists on manners. She does, however, gets up and stands by the chair before motioning at it, "Mr. Lehnsherr, may I sit at your table? I would like a word."

"By all means," Magneto says, gesturing again at the chair. His tone completely disregards their immediately previous discussion about manners, as if she had only just approached him. "Thank you for asking so politely. May I offer you tea? Coffee?" he inquires, turning over a ceramic cup and setting it in easy reach of Jeanne's position.

"Manners are the framework upon which society is built," the Imperator explains, pouring himself a cup of coffee, then pouring a cup of whichever Jeanne requests for her. "And they are, regrettably, becoming passe. Without ethics- without manners and a polite basis for civil discourse- we are little better than savages."

Magneto takes a sip of his coffee and eases back into his seat, crossing one leg over another in a repose of casual serenity. "And Erik Lehnsherr was my nom de guerre while I was living incognito," Magneto explains to the woman. "I am more appropriately addressed as Imperator Magneto, or Your Majesty." He spreads his hands minutely, leaving the choice to Jeanne to decide if she'll play along with his 'game'.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, young lady? And as you have the advantage of me, might I know your name and particularly, what you hope to glean from conversation with me?"

Jeanne for a moment does seem to reflect a twinge of pained expression before sitting down a second time, as if it was the first, "thank you, Mr. Lehnsherr," she says quietly, a little uncomfortable to be educated like a kid, even though she is rather young, despite how she sees herself. "Coffee would be most generous of you, thank you."

Jeanne leans a bit forward as Magneto speaks of manners as the framework of society, looking a bit incredulous, and yet for the person making the claim she is willing to listen. "Is that so? Was it so savagely of me to approach you directly rather than sheepishly deny myself the opportunity when it presented itself?" It's almost as if she doesn't remember the part where she was quite rude. Then she smiles at the correction about how he is to be addressed, "Imperator has such a nice ring to it, Imperator Magneto, do you fashion yourself after Augustus Caesar?" Though a moment later she tilts her head slightly to the side, and quips, "I trust despite the show, you are not one of the meek ruler who cling to a title to siphon some strength. You are the source of the power, title or no title."

"My name is Jeanne Foucault," the girl presents herself with her proper name, not caring to giveaway her little vigilante or not so vigilante outings to this point. Best to keep her alter-ego a secret. "I have many talents, and I have a very inquisitive mind seeking to learn from the best, you being such a person. But I will not steal away from your time undeservedly, instead, I would love it if you could answer me just one small question. In the turmoil that surrounded Genosha, have you ever had contact with one who goes by Taskmaster?"

"Taskmaster?" Magneto's eyes go a bit distant, flickering back and forth as if reading something. "Yes, I am familiar with the mercenary," he informs the girl, refocusing on her. "His services are quite expensive, if I recall correctly. I do not believe I have personally employed him, but I am aware of his status in the community. Might I inquire as to why you are so motivated to find him?" Magneto asks, tempering his natural tone of command to make it a polite inquiry.

He spoons some cream and sugar into his coffee, then smiles warmly at Abraham as the jolly fellow brings over a small plate of baked goods. "Thank you, kind sir," he says. Ever the courteous host, he sets a few morsels on a spare plate and sets it within arm's reach of Jeanne. "He is quite a dangerous individual and not one given to socializing."

Mercenaries of Taskmaster's caliber are not usually what interests 15 year old girls, but then Jeanne does appear different from the getgo. "I do believe he is considered world class, and fittingly, he's a very elusive man, difficult to trace." Jeanne looks visibly disappointed when Magneto mentions he hadn't employeed him, not that with people in politics it's ever a final word, tongues tend to be slippery after all and memory phases in and out as necessary. She takes that into consideration, before asking, "you would, of course, be aware if he were to set foot in Genosha, correct?"

The girl then breaks from her own question to contemplate how best to answer the one she got asked in return, reaching to sip from her coffee to steal some time. "I guess the best way to put is I have a burning question to ask him, and he's the only man who can truthfully answer it." Now that is quite believable, considering how readily Jeanne approached Magneto, who has a reputation of his own.

"You suspect he is your father."

Magneto makes the pronouncement after a lengthy pause, weighing Jeanne with those eyes that are too old for his youthful face. From there, that shrewd look returns to his face, and he examines Jeanne from a relaxed position, fingers steepled.

"Yes, that explains several things. I presume you share his eidetic talents?" he says, making no motion to explain how he came to that conclusion. "And given his professional need to distance himself from personal relationships... that must be a vexing position to find yourself in. I can imagine little else that would drive a child as young as you are to confront one of the most powerful mutants on Earth on a personal basis."

He spreads his steepled fingers minutely. "Am I more or less in the correct 'ballpark'?" he asks.

Jeanne looks absolutely stunned that Magneto was able to state the question she has for Taskmaster nearly instantenously, and she doesn't feel like she's given any direct hints, which means either his deduction capacity is astounding. Or, he's much more well informed than she ever expected, and asking for her name was merely a feint. "You're remarkably sharp, Imperator Magneto," Jeanne states while for a moment looking a bit anxious, not used to be read so easily if that is in fact what had happened.

As he asks about her eidetic talents, Jeanne nods faintly, feeling a bit uncomfortable when it turns out Magneto is much more familiar with her than she ever imagined. "Indeed...the parents I grew up with were petty criminals who used me for profit and esteem, that is why I set out on my own as soon as I could. I do not care for them." Playing a little with her coffee, shifting the cup on the table from left to right, she adds, "now Taskmaster...he could understand, he could teach me, so I need to know."

Finally Jeanne snaps out of her momentary show of weakness, finding some kind of renewed resolve, wiping those hints of emotions from her visage as she looks directly at Magneto. "I must say I am rather perplexed, and that doesn't happen often. Congratulations. Would you share your secret? How do you gather so much just from this exchange? You don't honestly mean to say you've a file on little ol' me?"

"You are familiar with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?" It's a polite statement of fact, not a question. "The observational process he postulated in his novels is a concept with some merit to it," Magneto explains to Jeanne, being quite polite about it. "Process of elimination combined with a few- admittedly shrewd- observations about your person and bearing leads to a limited number of possible answers." He eyes Jeanne judiciously, then tilts his head towards the rest of the room.

"The woman sitting at the counter," he says, nodding at a slender businesswoman reading a newspaper. "Two children. Divorced, not unmarried. Junior partner at a law firm, but fighting a glass ceiling by sleeping with one of the senior partners."

He gestures at a couple, sitting at a booth. "Engaged, but it will not work out. He is Catholic and she is a member of our local Hasidic community. Observe his body language," he suggests to Jeanne. "Look at hers. There is a lack of reciprocity in the way they speak to one another. He breaks eye contact frequently and does not initiate eye contact."

In short order, he goes around the room, making small but pertinent observations about the dozen or so individuals sitting with them in the area. "You gave me nearly five minutes to observe, assess, and analyze you. It was not so much of a step to formulate a hypothesis, which you confirmed just this moment."

Jeanne nods quietly at the question, arching a brow as Magneto suggests he may have mastered what wasn't necessarily a real world skill so much as postulation in fiction. "You are quite keen, and as I said before, there is much I could learn from you...but I doubt I'll have the chance, you're a busy man after all. I should consider myself lucky just for having had the chance to meet you." As Magneto proceeds to elaborate with more examples, Jeanne turns to look while hearing his description, nodding faintly at his words.

"I can see," she remarks about the couple. She never really cared to observe people who seem mundane before, but perhaps there's something to be learned even from observing those she deems beneath her notice. Looking back at Magneto, she smiles sheepishly, "you've outmaneuvered me, I'm embarrassed." Jeanne say before smiling, "thank you for teaching me a lesson despite your busy schedule." Already this meeting paid off for her, she may not have gotten any leads on Taskmaster, but she learned one sin of inexperience. Try to limit what she projects for others who may be openly studying her under the guise of having a conversation.

Magneto smiles, and it's a kind looking expression on the man's face- paternal, even grandfatherly. "Actually, you have taught me quite a bit as well," Magneto concedes to the woman, stirring his coffee. He frowns, finding it cold, and a buzzing noise comes from the spoon. The coffee promptly steams fresh, and he takes a more assured sip of the beverage.

"I had initially suspected you of being an attempt at intrigue or a covert operation. So perhaps my paranoia is running a bit higher than necessary," Magneto informs the woman. "But habitually, a little paranoia has proven very useful- whereas a little laxness can be very fatal," he informs the young woman.

"Additionally, I am quite curious as to the nature of your gifts. A true eidetic memory is a rare enough talent, but to have skills such as Taskmaster's- as well as having an audioreflexive memory and autodidactic traits- is enough to rouse the curious scientist in me. I suspected you may be a mutant, but a relationship to Taskmaster implies a deeper adjustment in your genetic code."

"And, of course, there is the teacher in me, who finds the perfect student sitting in front of him. That is a difficult temptation to pass upon," Magneto says with another smile. "To see how much water the vessel can hold. I suppose, though, that your search for your father is at the top of your list of priorities."

"Have I?" Jeanne was hoping she didn't make a total fool of herself, and hearing Magneto concede that much cheers her up, as she looks at the stunt with the spoon with a grin on her face. Taking this as a flow of conversation, she strangely enough remarks, "if I were partaking in intrigue or covert operation of one nature or other, I likely wouldn't have approached you directly." A bit more light-heartedly, she adds, "I've heard this joke stating that just because you're a paranoid doesn't mean that people aren't out to get you."

Suddenly she realizes her 'tell' from earlier, "it was the flawless Hebrew, wasn't it?" She nods her head, "yes, I do have a gift or two of my own, though tests run by the Olympic Gymnastics Team shown I wasn't a 'meta' or 'mutant' as people might put it."

The smile disappears from her lips when Magneto gives her a real compliment, "now that -is- flattering, Imperator Magneto, nothing means more to me then my search for my father. But if you would indulge me, or rather, bless me with an opportunity to learn from you. I would relish the opportunity."

"Flattery gets you everywhere," Magneto says in a dry tone that Jeanne would likely appreciate as humor. "And yes, very well done. You speak Hebrew as if you learned it from a textbook. Not even scholars speak with that level of elocution in common conversation. My admiration for your ability, however," Magneto grants the girl.

He finishes a bite of a pastry, brushing crumbs from his fingertips onto the small serving plate he uses, and regards Jeanne with that empty, calculating expression for a moment. "Would you be interested in a job?" he inquires of the woman. "The International Olympic Community is hardly the scientific institution they would have most believe. You are quite literally 'too perfect' to be completely Homo Sapien. An eidetic memory is a gift that only perhaps a dozen people in the world have, your vaunted father among them. And I am well aware that his gifts are more likely courtesy of SHIELD or any number of covert agencies, rather than being simply the result of a curious gift. So I think it a reasonable conclusion to leap to that you are something far, far more than human- which, if you will pardon me for saying so, would put your sympathies in the camp of individuals who would cherish and encourage your gift, rather than decrying you for your natural talents."

Judging by the smile on her face, Jeanne apparently does find it amusing enough. She nods as Magneto confirms her suspicion, she never considered he switched to Hebrew merely to find out more about her, she just naturally tends to adjust to the conversation spoken to her. It is rather rare one speaks to her in a language she doesn't know, and when that happen, she usually goes right about picking up full fluency in the language. She'll have to be more careful around such perceptive people as Magneto.

While a pause presents itself in the conversation, Jeanne reaches for one of the pastries in the plate placed close enough for her reach, taking a bite-sized sample for herself. Chewing on the bit of pastry, Jeanne listens as Magneto says what only sounds too logical. After all, the reason she had to drop from the Olympic Gymnastics Team was that even with the test results, everyone was so pissed about her results, that she preferred to just cut the discussion by dropping. Then again, she doesn't feel like medalling would have been such an accomplishment if she already knew she would have won. "I am fond of saying I make no mistakes, I strive to be as close to perfection as I can." Finishing up her coffee, she puts the empty cup down, and looks attentively at Magneto, "I think I am most interested to hear of a potential job, I will accept if it's worthwhile."

"Mind, I do not have a specific position available," Magneto points out. "But you seem well suited for a variety of tasks, especially those that tend to fall to my personal entourage. My memory is excellent, but an aide de camp with total recall could be an invaluable asset. Given the calluses on your hands, you look to have developed what I presume is a high level of martial capability. One can never have too many bodyguards," Magneto points out diffidently.

"I tend to find that my employees naturally gravitate into positions that suit them best. I think we would be best served by simply placing you in my entourage and seeing where your talents lead you- tinker, tailor, soldier, spy," he says, quoting the title of the book with a smile. "Autodidacts make for interesting companions on the road. The pay," he adds, "is excellent, as are the benefits. If that is a concern for you."

"I can certainly do both things exceptionally well, I also find that many I face tend to underestimate my fighting prowess because of my age. Silly mistake, but provides a good advantage, I tend not to give my opponents time to adjust," Jeanne thinks that working for someone like Magneto can be a tremendous learning experience, and so shifts to job interview mode, speaking more highly of her potential then earlier in the conversation.

Tapping her fingers on the table a few time before sinking both hands down against her thighs, Jeanne adds, "I do believe it may also grant me a better chance to locate Taskmaster. I can offer assistance in a great many variety of professions, if you will have me, I think I will take this opportunity wholeheartedly." Jeanne actually looks rather pleased with this turn of events. It's not quite what she was looking for, but she may have stumbled into something better in the long run.

"I can co-locate you and Taskmaster inside a week, should you prove a valuable enough asset," Magneto assures the girl. "I merely did not hire him. I still have all the information I need to contact him. But consider our relative strengths," he offers to the girl. "Taskmaster may or may not be your father. He may or may not care that he is, should you prove him out. He may be able to expand your combative talents, but I can offer considerably more guidance in many other realms of knowledge. I do retain some of the world's finest experts in the arts martial, but I myself can teach you anything you wish to know- genetics, philosophy, history, ethics, physics..." He trails off, turning a hand palm up. "Taskmaster can turn you into a weapon. I can help you become an entire person, without neglecting those lethal skills. I think once you meet with him, you may find that my offer is a more attractive one than hanging from his coat-tails."

"Done," Jeanne says the moment she hears Magneto can help her meet Taskmaster, which has been her one true want for over a year now. Heck, she broke into Hammer Industries and still came out empty. Though maybe her target of choice was wrong, she still took some risks. This seems like the easiest way to go about it, though granted she's not quite sure what assignments she might get, though they will certainly be interesting. "I am interested in anything that makes me more knowledgeable, I am as handy in a lab as I am in a dojo," Jeanne looks to have settled her mind on taking Magneto's offer.

Jeanne shakes her head when Magneto compares his offer to hanging from Taskmaster's coattails, "I would be a waste as merely a weapon," Jeanne concurs with the ruler of Genosha, "but I am not looking for him to be his pawn," and that's the one moment she may actually give a glimpse to the fact she really is 15, and not the adult she often gives the impression of being, "I really think he's my father, I hadn't had a father all my life, it's important for me to know. I need it. What will happen should I meet him? I don't know, he may want to eliminate me to offset any chance of having competition. I have no way of assessing that, I only know rumors about the man...I want to get to know the man."

Magneto smiles sympathetically at Jeanne. "Consider yourself hired, in either event. You have priorities in life that any teenager shares- looking for a home, a life, a sense of self-definition. We are, in many ways, echos of our parents. For good or ill," he suggests.

He fishes in his pocket for a PDA and looks at the screen calmly, then puts it away. "I have requested that my people approach Taskmaster and set up a meeting with him. Should you wish a... friendly face, I would like to volunteer my presence. As you say, a practical mind acknowledges that he may well find offspring to be dangerous competition. I think I should like to invest in you, Ms. Foucault," Magneto tells the girl. "And I should hate for a moment of hasty decision on his part to result in your untimely demise. Consider yourself hired, and please do inform me if and when you decide what next course of action your life will take." He spreads his hands. "Do we have an agreement?"

Looking deep into Magneto's eyes, Jeanne looks rather grim as she listens to his words, and then asks, "if we get the chance, would you indulge in a conversation about yourself?" Apparently, despite Magneto doing most of the talking, she feels she has been the focus, and she'd like to learn some more about the Master of Magnetism, Imperator Magneto.

"I am flattered that you find me worthwhile to invest in, and I grant that I may very well not survive an encounter with Taskmaster should he choose to eliminate me. I would be the one disadvantaged," she thinks a moment longer and then nods, "I think it would prudent to have you present. So long as he'd accept the term, if he'll demand to see me in private, I think I will grant it for all the danger it bears."

Reaching for her pocket, Jeanne takes out a smartphone that looks a little bit too modified to be anything from one company or other, a few surprisingly fast thumb flicks, and she looks up at Magneto, "you should have all of my contact information in your contact list, we do have an agreement, thank you, Imperator Magneto." Standing up, she goes as far as to bow towards Magneto before heading back to her table, happy to find her laptop is still there. Who said there are only bad people in this city.