The Further Away.

[Imogen Slaughter] The tea house is filled with warm, worn wood, and pleasing, delicate lighting. It is a hole in the wall, a hidden gem according to a few reputable Chicago based reviewers. The air smells rich and warm with baking.

She is late. She often is. Five minutes, ten. Sometimes more. Today it is fifteen minutes.

The door to the tea house opens without a sound - no bell, no chime. She is dressed for business, a knee length skirt, a matching suit jacket, and a pale blue camisole. She is dressed like it is spring, though the weather is grey and cool outside.

Her eyes scan the dining area. Monty's expanse nearly fills the closed in room.

Her heels click gently against the hardwood as she walks toward him, adjusting the strap of her handbag as she does.

"Montressor."

They have progressed to first name basis, though he has been there for a while.

[Monty] As always, Monty does his half-rise, prevented by the table's edge and his own bulk from fully gaining his feet, one hand pressing the napkin to his lap, the other reaching out to rest fingertips lightly on the table's edge. His expression breaks into a smile, broad lips almost impossibly wide, and he bobs his head once or twice, the bone of his jaw rising and submerging as he does so from the fat that girdles his neck.

"Imogen, please excuse me, I could not resist the delicacies on display, so indulged." He lowers back down to sit, and gestures at the array of confectionary before him. Scones, a half devoured block of tiramisu, a pot of what smells like Earl Gray tea, a spread of small, gourmet cookies, and assorted finger chocolates.

Monty has clearly come directly from work as well; he's clad in his customary finery, tailored to his girth and looking clean and pressed despite the day's wear. Pinstripe dark gray suit, a bowtie of bold crimson with subtler gray dots, and an electric blue shirt. Vast, rounded shoulders, a chest deeper than an ancient French wine barrel, sufficient poundage and size that, were he differently proportioned, he would make a truly frightening Fenrir warrior.

However, he is more spherical than bear-like, and without ado he reaches forward to take up the tea pot and pour Imogen a cup of fragrant liquid.

"Thanks for coming. But I've unearthed a rather frightening chain of connections and entities that demand further investigation. I'm still in the process of gathering more information, but what I have already prompts immediate action."

He dispenses with questions of a personal nature; he knows her well enough to not bother with polite formalities.

[Imogen Slaughter] She moves a hand dismissively at his apology, sliding her purse from her arm and slinging it over the back of her chair before she pulls it back to take her seat.

"Ta," British thanks as he pours her tea without asking, reaching over to retrieve a milker and liberally dosing the dark fragrant liquid with it before she picks up the cup. The ceramic warms quickly between her fingers.

"Why don't you tell me what you've found," she says.

[Monty] Monty reaches down by his side, hand sliding into his brief case and retracting a vanilla folder. From there, he takes out a clipping from a newspaper.

"Today's edition of the Tribune. Take a look, if you've not already read it," he says, handing over the article on Whole Heart Farms from pace C-4.

"I remembered hearing about this entity from our cousins, so it prompted me to begin my own investigation. Here is what I have discovered so far."

He then hands her several print outs. One is a concise precis on Whole Heart Farms and Foods; a summary of its history, marking its takeover in 2007 by Huntley Acquisitions, a list of its production factory, key personnel, and the 'original farm' where experiments are being conducted. Each location is accompanied by a Google Map printout, and there are several sheets detailing tax information, illustrating the connection between WHF and Francione, the registered agent.

He gives her time to digest all this. "Clearly," he says, when she sets the last sheet down, "There are several avenues of inquiry to follow. I have already put wheels into motion to learn more of Huntley Acquisitions, and am pulling files on each of those key personnel mentioned. Now, there is a frustrating lack of information on the properities located in Elk Grove, hence our need to pass by their in person to pick up copies of the assessor's records, and hopefully some zoning and building plans. Beyond that, we could tour the production plant in order to gain some further information."

Half the tiramisu disappears into his mouth. "Now, I'm of the opinion that Huntley Acquisitions is our ultimate target. It's involvement is clear. For now though, we need to stymie Whole Heart's involvement with the public schools. This will probably involve shutting down the production plant for hygiene abuse or whatever else we can find, and sending some of our cousins to this 'farm' to trace the source of contamination to its heart."

More munching. He clearly has more to say, but he pauses to allow Imogen to register first thoughts and opinions.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen puts aside her tea cup and picks up the newspaper article, her eyes sliding over the words as she skims. There is a long silence as she goes through his information, flipping through the papers, absorbing his work.

"Do you know what Elk Grove is?" she enquires mildly as she sets aside the papers.

[Monty] "Elk Grove? Yes, a small township outside of Cook County." Clearly it's more, or she wouldnt have asked. His tone wary.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen straightens a little, her fingers trailing to her tea cup, the tips touching the ceramic, but not yet picking it up. Her eyes move about them, scanning the nearby tables, and even farther away patrons, before coming back. When she speaks, it is quiet, a conversation only between the two of them. "It is one of the strongholds of the wyrm - and o' the hive. Ideally placed, near Moraine Hills."

She picks up her tea cup, speaking almost absently of a life and death risk.

"If we want to consider the wyrm machiavellian, and capable of forethought, I would say that the fact that Elk Grove has not joined us in the twenty first century and made their information available online is precisely so that nosy Kinfolk, much like you or I would have to enter the town proper to do any property research."

A pause while she takes a sip of tea. "They've done it before. It has not gone well."

[Monty] "Ah," says Monty, and looks down at his tea, which he takes up, and then sets down again, the cup ringing loudly against the saucer.

"So what you are saying is that field trips to Elk Grove are out of the question." It's not an inquiry. Monty places his hands on the table's edge, and ripples his fingers in thought.

"Well, we have the location of the factory and the farm. Should we simply inform our cousins, and point them in that direction? Let them take care of the rest?"

[Imogen Slaughter] Though it is not a question, Imogen interjects a mild reply.

"Precisely."

He continues. "Well," she says. "We ha' some options. Yeh can push it toward the Full-Bloods and let them decide what to do next. But t'be honest, an outright attack upon WholeHeart Foods and Farm is not feasible. It'll draw too much attention.

"What's more, it is not as if they can kill every board member, every interested party, every human who might fulfill the role as figure head, and begin to deliver the food. We can research and consider where to go from 'ere, and how best to hurt the company in the sheep's world and get the food out o' the school, or perhaps find a way to purify the food, as well as find th'concrete targets for the Garou to take.

"Yeh ha' names o' various employees, their addresses. We can try to see if we can find one who might help us in our efforts. We can find the schools which are receivin' the donations and try to find a way to sully the receipt o' it, make it unpalatable. Do it often enough, and no one will accept the donations, and WholeHeart Food's reputation will be harmed. We can tour th'plant. We can find a way to pump this Bernard Adams fer information.

"The Garou can do the bloody bits. But we need to manage th'human side."

[Monty] "Well," says Monty, pulling at his lower lip, "There is a very real need for food amongst the public schools. Shutting down Whole Heart Foods would simply create a void that would be filled with the sound of empty stomachs groaning."

He pauses, and something wry enters his expression. "And that is a sound that I abhor."

Reaches out to fork some more tiramisu onto his plate. "If we could excise this taint from the Whole Foods operation, like removing a tumor from an otherwise healthy body, perhaps we could ensure the delivery of food to where it's needed."

Forks some food in. "The question thus becomes who to locate the source of the taint, and those interested in feeding it into the food supply. Perhaps the orginal founder, 'Tater', could be encouraged to take control again once Huntley Acquisitions is removed from the situation." He pauses, chewing ruminantively.

"I am willing to bet that there is shennanigans going on at the farm, and that the taint is introduced to the food at the processing plant. Thus, if we remove the board members or whomever invested in tainting the food, and destroy the taint itself, the rest should continue chugging along like a happy little choo-choo."

[Imogen Slaughter] "Unless of course, Mister Plumley began this company with taint in mind, and simply upgraded it to a larger scale when necessary," she observes, taking another sip of her cooling tea.

"I would say th'first step would be t'find out what is taintin' the food and how. If we can get a sample o' the food, I can examine it chemically. A full-blooded Theurge can examine it spiritually. It might gi' us information on the steps that are bein' taken to taint the food and what needs t'be done to stop it."

A pause.

"You should know, Montressor, that your predilections aside, it would likely be easier to irrevocably damage the company's reputation and do a disservice to the public schools. I don't object t'tryin' it yer way first, however, in the end, those children are human born, and our significant concern is makin' sure that they do not become tainted, not whether or not they go to bed hungry at night."

[Monty] "Well, yes, 'human born' or not, I still would rather see them fed then hungry if we can manage. Barring that, we can nuke the whole facility and bury it ten fathoms deep. But, well. The city government official in me would rather not waste resources if we can avoid it."

Monty looks about the tea room, and then considers further.

"Weren't we alerted to the existence of Whole Heart Farms by the Garou who led the raid on the Community Center in Elk Grove? Didn't they bring back tainted samples from that cafeteria?"

[Imogen Slaughter] "As I said," Imogen's mouth twists a little. "We can try it your way first."

At his question, she replies, "We were, yes. Chemical tests showed an experimental drug known as anxiolytic - a mild tranquilizer. Ideally, I'd like to see fresh samples. I'd rather not take th'risk that they've modified their particular recipe and we are using old data."

[Monty] "Well, that should be easily done by touring the production plant. They almost always give away free samples. Beyond that, anything produced by Whole Heart in general should be tainted. We can simply get our greedy little hands on their latest batch of 'Death by Gravy' and analyze that."

Frowns. Thinks. "Well, I'll continuing unearthing information on these people. What's more, I believe Huntley Acquisitions is the big fish we should eventually go after. I've got my people digging up what they can about them, and after we've deatl with Whole Heart, we'll be able to go after Huntley. If we can effectively cleanse Whole Heart while Huntley is in the picture, that is."

[Imogen Slaughter] "If Huntley Acquisitions is responsible for the taint, we won't be able t'cleanse the food source. Anything that's undone, they'll simply rebuild again.

"T'be honest, if we find they're the culprit, we'll ha' t' stop our consideration of cleansing the food." Her eyebrow lifts upward slightly, "Perhaps we can find an alternate supplier to the schools to soothe your conscience.

"I'll see wha' I can find out about th'schools tha' have already been supplied by Whole Heart Foods, and the ingredient suppliers. It may not actually be comin' from the company. And perhaps there are a few employees wi' a blog tha' are dissatisfied wi' their place of employment. We might find information out through them."

[Monty] Monty sighs, and consoles himself with a large forkful of tiramisu. Inhales it down, and then sets aside his fork.

"I understand. But perhaps we can do a surgical strike on the source of the taint, knock it out of the production line for awhile, allowing regular food to be developed. Then, as Huntley Acquisitions makes its move to reinstall its tainted process, we take them out in turn. Watch to see how the parent company responds to the interruption. See who takes note, who reacts."

Looks over at Imogen. "I understand this is serious business, of course I do my dear. And my ultimate priorities are clear. However, the shortage of food to all those children... I don't understand much in terms of spirituality, but I doubt anything good... spiritually... could come from so many children going hungry."

He looks at the spread before him, and then pushes away his plate, his own appetite seeming to leave him.

"Let's do that then. Continue to investigate, learn more. Set our sights on collecting another, fresher sample, and see what we can piece together from there."

A beat.

"How do I get this information to the right cousins? Whom... whom should I look to contact, so as to inform? Kemp hasn't been answering his phone."

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen shakes her head. "I am not saying these things to sway you from yer intention. However: companies like this are relentless. If we do a surgical strike, and we fail to remove th'people who have interests in this company's tainted venture succeeding, not only will we fail to accomplish anything, but we will have them on alert.

"If we are talking about somethin' small scale, a few people, someone at the factory pourin' a tainted drug into a vat when no one is looking, something like that, then a surgical strike is warranted. If we are talking about something larger, we must stop focusing on the smaller and go to the larger to solve the absolute problem, not the cause.

"And if that comes, then if you would like to still like to make sure the children are fed, we can try and find and encourage an alternate supplier so that the food is not interrupted."

How does he get the information to the right cousins? He mentions Kemp and Imogen stills, her expression deadening.

"Kemp is dead," she says, flatly, masochistically, evenly. "Gi' yer information to Kora."

[Monty] "Dead?" His brows rise. "What do you mean, dead?" It's the kind of inane question people ask when shocked, completely surprised.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's eyebrow arches upward, "Surely you do not need a definition of the word."

She silences then, a tendon in her jaw bulging as she clenches it. When she speaks again, it is not to apologize for her harshness. "He died attacking the Community Centre after the Kinfolk brought it down. They were protecting a Theurge. He took the brunt of the attack."

[Monty] "Oh," says Monty, eyebrows still raised. He blinks, slowly licks his lower lip, and then shakes his head.

"I had no idea," he says faintly, ignoring both her sarcasm and his own obtuseness. "That's... my."

He blinks again, and then his mental faculties kick into play. His natural acuity. Focus narrows, brows lower, forehead furrows.

"I see." Blinks rapidly, lips pursing. "I'm sorry, Imogen." His voice grave now, deeper. "You were friends, were you not?" Not flippantly asked.

[Imogen Slaughter] They are not a likely pair. Montressor, grossly overweight, effusive, generous, thoughtful of school children and their hunger. Fond of scones and chocolate and the smell of an excellent cigar. Imogen, slight, slender and cool. Uncaring in many respects. She has not touched the food and barely touched her tea.

Yet they know each other well enough to be on a first name basis, to dispense with pleasantries and get right down to business. They have worked on things together in the past, and will likely do so again. Truthfully, they work well together.

It is in part because each ignores the parts of the other's personality which they find inconvenient. Montressor calls Imogen 'darling', and Imogen pretends to have not heard the sound. Imogen slices with sarcasm and it is ignored.

It works well.

"Yes," the word is a thin slice, narrow and tight.

"I believe Joe may be Jarl now," she says. "I know Kora better, but if yeh want the accurate person whom you should contact, it is Joe."

[Monty] 'Yes', she says, and that word hovers, resonates. Monty is sufficiently adept at reading people--perhaps even reading Imogen--that he is able to extract sufficient from that tone, that admission, and the contextual clues to understand. What follows, her statement of Jarl, is offered as a polite turning away from something she clearly doesn't want to discuss.

But that 'Yes', it hangs in the air. Monty can be obtuse, but that very naivete is balanced by a perceptive mind that can be just as incisive when called for. So he nods, sighs, and takes the napkin from his lap, folding it slowly, carefully in his hands, and setting it on the table beside his plate. Considers the faint brown smears on its otherwise pristine white surface, brow creased with thought.

He can sense much. Understand that in someways, she would have been far more willing to reveal these facts to another, someone she cared not at all for, with much greater equanamity. So it's not what she has said, but that these revelations are being pulled into being between them. Which speaks as to the nature of their friendship; in this world of uncertainty and danger, of such terrible stresses and fear, a friendship of any kind is rare. Monty understands. There's is a friendship based upon certain assumptions and principles. And speaking of such intense, personal matters is outside its aegis.

The intensity behind that yes speaks to the regard she has for him; the desire to push him away is coequal to the openings of a potential friendship he has made. And in that moment, a certain understanding as to the basics of any friendship Imogen makes and will undertake to keep crystalizes in his mind. The closer you get, the further away you have to be kept.

Monty looks up, and nods. His face having returned to its relaxed, easy going demeanor from before.

"Excellent," he says. "I'll be sure to contact Kora then. This information should be shared amongst our cousins before we get in too deep and risk it being lost along with us, if things turn out badly."

[Imogen Slaughter] She draws a breath which fills her lungs, a sure, solid sign of life.

Someone might wax poetic about that. These are the things that remind us we exist, the things that make it worth living. The bittersweet pain of loss making the risk of emotional attachment all the more poignant.

It is complete and utter bullshit.

Still: she draws in a breath and it is proof of life, her unending reminder.

"Alright then," she says, picking up her tea and taking another swallow as she begins to get to her feet. "Touch base with you next week, shall I? We'll see how we each get on and go from there."

[Monty] "Yup," says Monty, leaning back, and placing both hands on his flanks, elbows out. "Sounds like a plan. If anything of extreme importance comes up, I'll get in touch before."

[Imogen Slaughter] She inclines her head, "You'll get the same courtesy." She picks up purse and slides it over her arm. "Goodnight."

And she heads for the door.