Chapter 3: Dinner

There was something incredibly annoying about wearing khaki pants and a simple polo shirt Warren thought as he tried to adjust his belt a bit. Not that kahkis were particularly uncomfortable, though polos could get hot and stuffy, it was just that having to wear a particular piece of clothing was bothersome. One of the great things about working for Jack was that he was extremely lax when it came to dress codes. As long as you did you job and did it well, Jack didn't care what you wore.

However, a fancy dinner in a french restaurant meant Warren couldn't wear jeans or sweats or plain t-shirts all of which were comfortable and not at all suffocating.

He sighed as he got out of his car and looked over at Memoire. It was a nice place, fancy and exclusive. He couldn't wait to leave.

Resigning himself to a long night with unpleasant people, Warren walked inside and looked around.

He was obviously under dressed he thought with a grin as he gazed at the men in suits and the women wearing their nicest dresses. Somehow, that made the polo and kahkis much more comfortable.

“Name, sir?” the maitre d' asked with a slight French accent. He was very good at hiding his displeasure at Warren's state of dress.

“Uh, I'm with MCRC.” Warren said looking the skinny man over. He wondered how a person shorter than him could still manage to look down his nose so well.

“Of course, sir.” the man made a note on the podium he was standing at before giving him what Warren supposed was a grin but looked more like he had a toothache. “This way, please.”

“Alright.” Warren followed the man, taking the opportunity to look around as he did.

The place smelled divine, the soft smell of food not overpowering while the soft glow from the candles one each table and the chandelier on the ceiling brought a sort of golden glow to everything.

As Warren watched, a waiter dressed even better than him, came out of the kitchen carrying two plates that barely had any food on them.

Rich people, he thought shaking his head, why did they pay so much more for so much less food? He would have to remember to go through a drive-thru on the way home.

“Right in here, sir.” the maitre d' said opening a door and standing aside to let Warren pass.

“Thanks.” Warren grinned, walking in as the stuffy man left. He wondered if the maitre d' ever tripped over anything with his nose so high in the air like that.

The thought immediately left his head, though, because Brooklyn had arrived ahead of him and was talking to Mr. Ozera. And she looked like an angel.

“Wow...” Warren whispered to himself as the door shut behind him and the pair turned to him.

He wasn't sure what shade of pale pink she had on, but it reminded him of a soft summer sunrise. It was the first time he had seen her in anything but brown or black and the color really made her eyes glow. She had even let her hair down, halfway, for the occasion and her brown hair brushed a point just past her shoulders as a pair of earrings glittered on the side of her head somehow making her seem even more otherworldly.

“Ah, Warren.” Mr. Ozera said drawing Warren's attention though his eyes never left Brooklyn's pretty face. He liked that she still wasn't wearing make up but for a bit of shimmer to her lips. The natural tones of her skin was more than enough for him. “Come on in. We have some time before the others arrive.”

“You look very handsome.” Brooklyn smiled sweetly. “Would you like some sparkling cider? I ordered it for you.”

Warren grinned as he walked forward and nodded. “Sounds great. You look...beautiful.”

Brooklyn looks surprised then turned away, blushing just a bit. He didn't put much inflection in the word, he just stated it as if it were fact and it made it hard not to believe him. She felt butterflies in her stomach when he looked at her that way and she really liked it.

“It was a good thing Brooklyn was here.” Mr. Ozera smiled at her. “I almost ordered wine for you. I forgot it was poisonous to your kind.”

“I like this color on you.” Warren continued, not realizing he had toned out Mr. Ozera in favor of the beauty before him. He reached up and ran his hand down her arm, wanting to touch part of her. His Goddess. He would be honored to worship her.

“Really?” Brooklyn asked, her face lighting up. “I wasn't sure about it. I thought it was too bright.”

“No.” Warren shook his head slightly. “It's perfect.”

Brooklyn smiled at him again feeling suddenly confident and pretty in a dress she had debated changing out of for about an hour because she thought it had been too much color for her to pull off.

Mr. Ozera cleared his throat pointedly pulling their attention and gaze to him. He was wearing a bit of a smirk. “If you can focus, we do have a job to do tonight.”

“Right. Sorry.” Brooklyn blushed again, Warren admired the color it brought to her cheeks as he nodded.

Right on cue, the door opened and a single man walked inside. Warren recognized him as Dr. Fontane from the picture in his file and decided the picture had been an old one. Dr. Fontane had gray, almost white, hair that was thinning so you could almost see his scalp through the fine strands. His skin was wrinkled, like he spent a great deal of time outside without sun screen when he was young, and there was no lack of liver spots on his neck and part of his face. However, despite his obvious age, Warren could see a sharp intelligence in his shinning gray eyes. The doctor, Warren noted with a laugh, hadn't worn a suit either but had opted, instead, for a pair of black slacks, a hideous plaid shirt, and, Warren had to choke back a laugh, mismatched shoes. One brown, one black.

“Lester, my friend.” Mr. Ozera walked forward, a smile on his face. “Good to see you again.”

“What?” Lester said much louder than he really should have. “Sorry, old man, can't hear a thing. Bit of an accident in the lab!”

“Sh!” Mr. Ozera clasped his shoulders. “You're too loud!”

“Sorry 'bout that!” Dr. Fontane said his voice softening but not by much.

Brooklyn was giggling behind her hand as Warren choked back his own laughter.

“He's a mess, isn't he?” she said as Dr. Fontane loudly complimented the restaurant as Mr. Ozera tried to tell him to tone it down some more.

“Somehow, I doubt he's the spy.” Warren looked over the man finding him more comical than threatening. His atrocious yellow and brown plaid shirt was only half tucked into the black slacks, he looked like he was a color blind child dressing himself for the first time.

“He used to have assistants like the others.” Brooklyn looked at the old man fondly. “But he keeps scaring them off. He's a...handful.”

“I can tell.” Warren laughed as the doctor finally spotted them.

“Ah! Brooklyn!” Dr. Fontane walked forward happily and shook her hand. “Great to see you again! You should have been there today! I've been working on those noise filters Jack asked for but I can't seem to get them just right! Sellers has quite a powerful voice! His recording short circuited the damn things right in my ears!”

“Are you going to be okay?” Brooklyn asked, worried.

“No! No!” Dr. Fontane shook his head happily. “I did account for the hypnotic power! I just didn't think it would cause the technology to break like that!”

Brooklyn smiled and nodded, not bothering to try and correct him.

“And you must be her date!” Dr. Fontane turned to him. “A haltija, huh?! I got to study a few of your kind a few years ago! Did you know that in your brains, the center that controls the feelings of love and devotion are twice as big as in a human?!”

“I didn't, actually.” Warren shook his head, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear him.

“Yes, yes!” Dr. Fontane reached out and grabbed Warren's hand and began examining it without permission but Warren didn't really fight him. “You also have thicker bones! And extremely dense muscles! And, as compensation for the increased size of the amygdala, your frontal lobe is smaller! That means your kind doesn't think as much, you know! You're more driven by emotion! I haven't had the chance yet to dissect a haltija's brain! I don't suppose you-”

“Alright, Lester.” Mr. Ozera moved in and pulled Warren's hand from his grasp. “Let's not talk about dissection with dinner coming, hm?”

“Oh, yes! Great weather!” Dr. Fontane nodded, letting Mr. Ozera lead him away.

“Alright.” Warren felt just a bit creeped out. “I guess that means he's back on the suspect list then.”

“He's a scientist.” Brooklyn couldn't stop her giggles. “He's done plenty of dissections on mythics that donated their body to science. It's not that odd.”

“He just asked me to let him carve up my brain.” Warren pointed out as Mr. Ozera sat Dr. Fontane down and handed him a glass of white wine.

“When you get to know him, you'll see it's not that odd.” Brooklyn said but she let the subject drop as the door opened again and this time two people came inside.

“Mrs. Cohen.” Warren said recognizing her as Brooklyn went stiff at his side. “And that would be her assistant Mr. White, if I'm not wrong.”

Brooklyn nodded once to show he was right as Mrs. Cohen's eyes landed on her and they glared at each other with a smile across the room.

Rachel Cohen had obviously undergone a few procedures to keep her face looking young and kept her expensively cut hair dyed a deep, dark brown. She was wearing a harsh gray pantsuit that really looked good on her and Warren caught the glimmer of a huge diamond on her hand. She was beautiful in a very expensive way but there was an unfriendliness to her eyes that just made her entire demeanor seem cold.

Robert White, behind her, had a smile on his face, it was slight but directed at Brooklyn with a bit of apology like he knew his boss had just said something unpleasant about her that he didn't like but wasn't willing to fight with her over. His suit was blue and looked just a bit cheap and worn. Warren didn't see her other assistant.

“Robert is nice enough.” Brooklyn said to Warren through her teeth as Mrs. Cohen and Robert made their way over. “He's from a poor family but he's a good lawyer.”

“Meyers.” Mrs. Cohen greeted Brooklyn with a condescending smile. “You look nice, dear. I wish I could just wear anything like you.”

“Mrs. Cohen.” Brooklyn couldn't stop herself from glaring and the fake smile on her face actually kind of hurt. But the comment on her dress didn't bother her at all which was odd for her. But standing by Warren who looked at her the way he did and spoke of her in that sweet and sure way, she didn't feel out of place in it. “Where's Melody?”

“Parking the car.” Mrs. Cohen waved the question away like it wasn't important. “And who is this?” she looked over at Warren with a distasteful look on her face. Suddenly, he was extremely happy he hadn't worn a suit and felt damn good in the kahkis and polo shirt.

“My name is Warren.” He smirked. “I must say, that suit makes you look so distinguished. So...mature.”

Mrs. Cohen's eyes narrowed just a bit as she realized Warren had called her old and she opened her mouth to say something back when, from across the room, Dr. Fontane yelled. “Rachel! Hello, old girl! Good to see you again!”

Gritting her teeth, she turned to him. “I've told you to call me Mrs. Cohen, you buffoon! And you are older than me!”

“I know!” he nodded. “We do need to see each other more often!”

“Ignore him, Rachel.” Mr. Ozera appeared her side and kissed her hand sweetly. “He's had a bit of an accident today.”

“Hello, Victor.” the woman practically purred as she looked Mr. Ozera over. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

“Would you like some wine, my dear?” he asked, tucking her hand into his arm as a small, almost sickly looking woman walked quickly into the room. She was out of breath and carrying a large, snake skin bag.

“There you are, you useless cow.” Mrs. Cohen said to her. “What took you so long? Oh, never mind! Just stand in the corner with White.”

Warren recognized Melody Lewis who had already started to join Robert who was standing along the wall like a statue.

“I feel bad for Melody.” Brooklyn frowned at the tiny woman who was obviously having trouble with the purse that Warren decided must be Mrs. Cohen's. “She's Cohen's personal whipping girl and scapegoat. She treats her like crap.”

She did have that look like a kicked puppy, Warren thought as Robert helped her with the bag and she looked up at him like he was her savior. “And yet, she sticks around.”

“I think it's Stockholm Syndrome.” Brooklyn said, completely serious. “Or like when abused wives refuse to leave their husbands.”

Warren wondered about that as Jack and Crispin entered. Crispin had donned a suit for the occasion but Jack had obviously not gone out of his way to dress, wearing the same pants and shirt Warren had seen him in earlier. Yet somehow, the man made everyone else look stuffy and overdressed.

“Of course you know Jack and Crispin.” Brooklyn continued her narrative with a smile as Dr. Fontane loudly greeted Crispin and began telling him of his failed experiment.

“We're going to have to investigate him too, you know.” Warren said as Crispin nodded with the same carefree smile he always wore like Dr. Fontane wasn't speaking entirely too loud and Jack began speaking with Mr. Ozera and Mrs. Cohen.

“Who? Jack?” Brooklyn looked over at him shocked. “You're kidding, right? You don't think there's even a little bit of a possibility that Jack did it?”

“Of course not.” Warren snorted. “I'd sooner believe Mr. Ozera did it than Jack. But I don't want to hear any lip if he found out we didn't investigate every single person in this room including himself and Crispin.”

“Oh, come on.” Brooklyn laughed. “You know Crispin didn't do it.”

“He was found in the underwater base.” Warren pointed out. “That makes him suspicious.”

“He was their prisoner.” Brooklyn said incredulously.

“He was still there.”

“He had a shock collar around his neck.” Brooklyn shook her head. “We both know Crispin and Jack didn't do it.”

“We still have to look into it.” Warren smiled. He didn't believe Jack or Crispin could be guilty either. But Jack really would chew him out for being careless and letting his affections for him get in the way of his job. Warren didn't consider the love he had for Jack to be what cleared his name though. It was Jack's commitment to his own beliefs and how he worked harder, longer, and with more dedication than any one else in MCRC. Jack was what Warren aspired to be.

“You sound just like him.” Brooklyn said with a smile. Warren considered it a high compliment. “Alright, we'll investigate him too. Though we both know they're innocent.”

Warren smiled a bit as he realized they had both lapsed into using 'we' instead of just him being the one investigating.

“And the last one, Pablo, is going to be late, right?” Warren asked as he looked around.

“Mr. Eisenhower is always late.” Brooklyn nodded. “He does it on purpose so he can make an entrance.”

“What are his assistants like?” Warren asked pretty sure he already had a good idea of what the man himself was like.

“Jackson, Dominique, and Kelly.” Brooklyn listed their names. “They're all girls. They're all dumb as a bag of hammers. And Mr. Eisenhower sleeps with every single one of them, often at the same time.”

“Are you serious?” Warren asked with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah.” Brooklyn sighed. “He only has three assistants because he wanted to have more than everyone else. When Mrs. Cohen promoted Robert to assistant, he hired Kelly pretty much right off the street. He thinks he's some kind of artistic Hugh Hefner. He has these parties at his mansion all the time, usually nothing but hot women and a few guys he likes to hang out with and show off to.”

Warren wondered if Brooklyn had ever been invited to one, then decided some things were better left unknown. “So the likelihood of one of his assistants being the spy is...?”

“He doesn't really tell them anything.” she rolled her eyes. “He talks to them in baby talk, they call him daddy, and spend a great deal of their time drinking in his mansion. They would be the most ineffective spies ever. Especially since Mr. Eisenhower doesn't handle very much sensitive information. So I would say pretty low.”

“Good to know.” Warren sighed knowing he would have to investigate them all thoroughly anyway. The same argument that applied to Jack applied to a bunch of empty headed females.

“Anyway,” Brooklyn said. “I was thinking-”

“What!?” Mrs. Cohen yelled at the same level as Dr. Fontane drawing everyone's attention to her, Jack, and Mr. Ozera.

“Calm down, Rachel.” the latter man said soothingly. “It's not that big of a deal.”

“A surprise inspection, Victor?” she snapped the simpering purr she had adopted earlier long gone and replaced by a steely gaze. “What one earth made you want to perform a surprise inspection?”

Warren saw Melody flinch against the wall as Mrs. Cohen raised her voice and he wondered how often the poor girl was the subject of the woman's temper.

“I just want to make sure that all areas of MCRC are running smoothly.” he said taking her hand and stroking the back in a move that looked familiar as if he did it a lot. “You have nothing to hide, of course. So it shouldn't be a problem.”

“Having anyone going through my department upsetting the schedule and disturbing the order is always a problem.” she hissed through her teeth. “How soon do you plan on starting these inspections?”

“Tomorrow, of course.” he said. “It wouldn't be a surprise if I gave you much warning, now would it?”

“Victor, this is unacceptable.” she tore her hand out of his and crossed them over her chest angrily. “Such things must be given the proper amount of forewarning and-”

“Oh, hush, Rachel.” Jack said rolling his eyes. He was the only one not drinking wine but instead sipping from a glass of Warren's specially ordered sparkling cider. “It's not that big of a deal.”

“Shut up, Jack.” she snapped at him, her glare intensifying when he had said her name.

“My dear, Rachel,” Mr. Ozera tried again, “you are the third that will be inspected. I am doing Jack and Lester first because they're right here in town. Then you and then Pablo. That should be plenty of forewarning.”

“It is still unacceptable.” she snapped though she did look a bit happier that she wouldn't be first. “Honestly, Victor. You've never done anything like this before, why on earth are you doing it now?”

Mr. Ozera shrugged like it meant nothing to him. “I have some free time in my schedule. I decided to spend it wisely and take a close look at how my people are working.”

“Free time!” Mrs. Cohen repeated with a very unladylike snort. “What free time? Do you know how long I have been working on countering that bill in congress right now? You wanted that information from me immediately because you needed to start work on fighting it as soon as you could.”

“And I greatly appreciate your hard work.” Mr. Ozera smiled at her charmingly. “Honestly, I won't be doing much of the inspection myself anyway. My new assistant will be doing it for me.”

“Assistant?” she uncrossed her arms and looked him over. “What assistant? I heard nothing of you getting a new assistant.”