Ray's Advice.

[Imogen Slaughter] She had contacted him - speaking to him on a crystal clear line of a mobile phone, her awareness of the insecure wireless connection in the circumspect way she spoke.

She had something that she was hoping to get his help with, the Englishwoman had said, after the briefest of greetings and utterly no small talk. Something to do with their mutual interests. Would he be willing to meet her?

At his agreement, she had given him directions to a charity known as Hill House, and further explanation, that once he is in the building, he is to ask for the Innocence Project.

Hill House is a rambling old mansion, carefully preserved from its late nineteenth century roots. Immediately inside the large foyer, a bulletin board offers the hours for the various housed amenities - the thrift shoppe, the daycare, and notices to the shelter denizens and the various volunteers.

A pert young woman greets him where she sits in front of a folding table which stands for the front reception, requesting that he sign in. The Innocence Project, he is told is on the third floor, down a narrow set of hallways, third door on the right. It's open, the door, allowing him to see the bright, airy room, what had perhaps once been a bed or sitting room, now filled with long tables and cabinets, shred bins and a few computers chained down to discourage enterprising walk-throughs.

It is apparently not a day for innocence - Imogen is the only one in the room, seated in a corner, facing the door. In front of her are a series of file folders, at her feet her brief case, the mouth half open to reveal more folders. She looks up when he enters, shutting and setting it aside.

"Mister Ostermann," she greets him somewhat formally. "Remember Whole Heart Foods, do you?"

[Ray Ostermann] *Ray strode through the building like he might almost own the place. Certain in his place in the world, certain that he was doing what he was meant to. He smiled confidently at the nice young woman who greets him, and as he is directed he flashes an even brighter smile at her, before heading up the stairs casually.

He finds the place wonderfully...rustic. It's old and its charming and well...its old. Ray usually didn't care much for such buildings, usually in his line of work he was bulldozing such houses into the ground to make way for...well any number of things. But it was nice to see one of them still standing, and still being used for something good.

Ray steps through the door and moves slowly, comfortably towards Imogen, despite her cool manner and flashes her one of his prize winning smiles. His blue eyes twinkling and his hair set just right, it would almost seem like he made extra effort to come down here.

When she mentions whole heart foods however, A slightly different look slips into his eyes, almost....hungry. "Ms. Slaughter, it has been a while." He says as he stands across from her. "And of course....how could I forget?"

[Imogen Slaughter] His smile is not returned, the detached doctor somehow able to resist the business man's bright and shining charm.

"They've made a significant donation of food to Cook County's schools," she says, bending down to reach into her brief case, plucking a folder from within. "I believe I may ha' met the results o' their effects already. S'not particularly pretty."

She holds out the file folder, seemingly unconcerned that Ray remains standing while she remains sitting. The woman is petite, slight. She looks up to everyone anyway. Though - should Ray choose, there is a chair nearby he could draw up across from her.

"When you're done, I'll tell yeh my thoughts."

--
(reference: http://www.chicagodusk.com/smf/index.php?topic=7557.0 for the contents of the folder! what Monty knew, Imogen now knows and now Ray knows!)
--

When he's done, she says - "I've asked someone already t'retrieve samples o' the food," a quick glance at her steel watch, delicate on a delicate wrist, "should be along shortly, actually.

"To me," she continues, "our priorities are: removin' the food from th'schools, likely by making the donation unpalatable in some way or another. Defamation, fer example. Then, we need t'get the company out o' commission, perhaps through more o' the same."

A pause. "If we can, we should find a more suitable donation t'be made t'the human schools. However: I hardly consider it a priority."

[Imogen Slaughter] (brb, guys! probably about 20 minutes or so)

[Moira] It has been a few days since she had met with Imogen at Hill House. Even now, as the good doctor speaks to someone else that Moira is acquainted with, she will receive a text from the Fenrir kinswoman about coming by to the old mansion to deliver the samples that Imogen had requested of her to fetch.

She arrives by cab to Hill House, speaking to the receptionist at the front. She jostles a large nylon grocery bag, the kind that they sell for a dollar at local supermarkets to encourage customers to bag without plastic. The sounds of her boots thud softly on the carpet, a fitted leather blazer hanging open to reveal the simple, streamlined dress that molds over her frame. Black hair bound up and woven into two milkmaid braids to get it out of her face. She wraps her knuckles on the edge of the frame, poking her head in to peer around.

"Imogen?" Eyes fall on Ray in surprise, a black eyebrow tilting upward, "Mr. Ostermann?"

[Ray Ostermann] Ray had indeed pulled the chair over and seated himself as the file was handed over to him. He took his time, perusing the details, looking for any signs of weakness or possible points of exploitation. He flips from page to page as he crosses one leg over the other, his ankle resting on his knee as he goes over it.

Its right when he finishes reading through the file that Moira comes into the room and Ray turns to regard the newcomer. When he see's that its Moira, he smiles, but its only a smile she can see before his smile is just his normal one and he nods politely in return and moves to stand, offering her the chair. "Ms. Murray, what a surprise to find you here."

[Moira] She smirks wryly, stepping into the room as she carries the bag with her. She sets it down on one of the tables closest to where Imogen was working. She glanced inside, reaching for a manila folder that contained a small report with a briefing on what all Moira had seen, along with documentation and photocopies of driver's license and background checks.

She keeps the file with her, making her way over to the offered chair to sit down near Ray. "I hadn't expected to see you here, but this is good. It allows me to kill two birds with one stone as I've been wanting to talk to you." She settles down, crossing her legs and lays the file in her lap.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray smiles and leans against the table, as there was no longer another chair to sit down on, resting his weight comfortably in a tiny space that was just big enough for him and not cause a cascade of paper and file folders. He raises a brow to Moira's words but nods with a smile.

"Of course, I always have time for my fellow Kin." He says casually before snapping the folder in his hand shut and turns to hand it back to Imogen, if she requires it back. A more serious look crosses his face as he seems to mull the information over in his head, considering it all before speaking.

"Defamation is a tricky tool to play with Imogen, I've seen colleges of mine try that little truck and end up sued into the gutter. Defamation of character can become a rather nasty law suit, without proper information to back it up. We need dirt, and very serious dirt before we can begin considering fielding that sort of artillery against them. Otherwise we would effectively be signing our own bankruptcy forms...and I really would rather keep my car."

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen tilts her head toward Moira, a smirk twitching her mouth, "I am hopin' that our mutual acquaintance has th'key t'defamation.

"Don't ferget, the samples from the community centre were drugged. If these are similar, we ha' a case.

"Otherwise, we look fer something else. I don't mean tha' we stand on the roof tops and shout our opinions. Or tha' we do anything public at all, frankly. But acceptin' charitable donations from a company which is in an apparent spot o' trouble, a spot o' public trouble is generally considered unwise. Particularly if we find somethin' wrong wi' the food."

[Moira] Moira offers Imogen a proud little smile of triumphant. She rises up from her seat, setting the file down on the table for Imogen to look through as she paced back over to the other table with the nylon shopping bag. Her hand comes up to part the edges, peeking inside.

"I was able to procure the samples that you had asked me, Imogen. There is plenty there for you to choose from. I made sure to use a clean, sanitized spoon and ziplock bags when getting some of the biscuit mixes so I didn't taint the sample."

She turns to look at the pair, "The elementary schools were easy to get stuff from. The milk wasn't tainted at all, they ship that in fresh. One of the high schools I went to... was sickening. A good sixty percent of the food that was in the stockroom of the school's kitchen was donated by Whole Heart Farms. I picked up samples of the biscuit mixes used for the gravy, sloppy joes, the dry good, and dehydrated potatoes, and vegetables, small cans of their "meat product".." she holds up her hands and wiggles her fingers in quotation marks when she says 'meat product'.

"The kids were rather... disengaged as well as the employees there. They seemed violent or sickly, just not well and healthy. There were three ladies in the kitchen. I managed during my snooping to snap photos of their driver's licenses and pay stubs from their purses before leaving. Two of the workers came up the same, living in the Chicago area. Opal Randolph and Maybelline Beverly, are residents in the city. The third woman was the kitchen lead, a real nasty lady. She didn't like me at all...'

She shrugs her shoulders, "Her identification didn't match up. She's known at the school as Francine Stickler, which is the name on her paystub with a Chicago address. Her driver's license pegs her as Francine Hollings from Elk Grove, Illinois. She also has a son, who works as a security guard for the school." Moira points to the file on Imogen's table. "That has the copies of the pictures I took of the pay stubs and driver's license."

[Ray Ostermann] Ray listens to both of the woman intently, drawing in their little bits of information and attempting to formulate a plan of attack. He rubs a finger over his upper lip as he thinks, eyes narrowing as he listens to Moira's words.

"Tell me Moira, how many different locations throughout the Chicago area did you visit?" He asks as if he already has something of a plan percolating in his mind. A slightly sinister smile crossing his lips as he smells blood in the water.

"If you've gathered enough samples from a variety of locations, and we can confirm that they are all tainted and drugged one way or another, we can have that sent out quite easily through subsidiary channels...and how Whole Health Foods on a spit in under a week."

He seems to find the idea rather amusing as he sits there with his gaze between both women. "However thats the coup de grace. We don't want to do that till we are completely ready to sweep in and decimate all that they have done."

[Moira] "Three elementary schools that were on the list, and Roosevelt High in the Cabrini. I went through an organization called Our Schools, Our Selves, and volunteered through their volunteer assistance program to the nutrition program."

She folds her arms across her chest, leaning on the table. "I made sure to use a fake identification. Still have the school ID as well in case you need me to go back. Something didn't feel right about that Stickler woman and her son. I really felt bad for the kids in that high school, and want to help them."

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's attention is on Moira as she speaks, rather than the file folder that the girl has handed her. She is, at first, silent, impassive. Dark eyed, cool. She is familiar to the younger kinwoman, they've known each other for years, since the other girl was a teenager.

Still, more often than not, Moira does not have the faintest idea what the other is thinking.

However, there is a moment when it is utterly clear. The dark-haired Fenrir-born mentions she took photographs of each woman's driver's licence. Imogen's eyebrows arch upward, copper, well shaped and more expressive than her mouth.

"Well done, Moira," the doctor says, almost softly, almost to herself, as she flips open the folder, her gaze falling intently on the inserted pages. The praise is quiet but brutally genuine.

Imogen finds Francine Stickler as Moira brings her up, and a line forms between her eyebrows as the other speaks. Francine Hollings, Moira says, and Imogen's dark eyes flick up to fix on her. They stay there several seconds, then drop down to the sheet of paper again.

Ray asks his questions, Moira answers him. Ray goes on to say they should not do it until they're good and ready. "No," Imogen interjects, coolly. "Clearly.

"The Stickler - Hollings - woman, I believe may be kinfolk to the cursed ones. The family was meant t'be eradicated or -" a pause, a tightening of her mouth. "Uninclined to return. She and her son may be a key t'this from th' Nation side."

A beat, as her gaze moves between them both, "I want to make something clear before we continue. None of us - and I do mean no one - is going to Elk Grove. It is too close t'the Hive, it is far too deeply in th'Wyrm's power, and the last time it happened, it did not go well.

"Now," she continues, "I can take the samples and begin t'test them. Get back t'yeh with the results. Wi' all the information yeh ha' to hand," a flick of her gaze to Ray. "What d'yeh want to do?"

[Moira] They had known each other for years, since the dark haired kin had been a teenager. Moira could never quite read Imogen well, she was one of the few people the perceptive couldn't nail down, but as she listens to what Moira tells her, compliments her on a job well done. It is easy to see the flush of color rise in her cheeks for a moment, as she is humbled by Imogen's words.

Moira smiles, lifting her chin up as she beams like a pupil that has received such high praise from a mentor. She doesn't interject, just listens and waits.

[Moira] "I certainly have no intentions of setting foot into Elk Grove, and I'll likely get strangled by Karl if I ever brought up the notion." She shakes her head, nose crinkling as her voice takes on a soft edge. She cups her chin with her left hand, tapping fingers along her cheek - thoughtful.

" 'Gen, Karl Gyllenhammar, the new Rotagar, you may have met. I did inform him of what I was doing as he keeps an eye on me now... he expressed interest in helping, if we need anything from him."

[Ray Ostermann] Ray ignores Imogen's snide comment, the effect of it rolling off his back like water off a duck. Such things were quite literally beneath him it seemed. He smoothed out one pant leg as he listened to the woman and he smirks as she suggests that they not go to Elk Grove. "Clearly." He says in response to that, parroting the womans former comment.

He waits for the woman to finish before he gazes at her with a bemused look on his face his hands clasped together as they rest on his leg, pausing, intentionally, almost as if he was making her wait before he answered.

"Simple, with most of these operations the idea is to bleed your target dry over a period of months, sometimes years. Until they are put into a position where they can no longer afford to keep the company and theny buy them up and shut them down." He pauses to make sure they are following. "We are going to expedite the situation. First, we need no less then three companies lined up willing to bid on all contracts Whole Health Foods currently fields, clean ones that we know arnt going to fall to the enemy."

He sets that as the first requirement. "Secondly, those samples need to be tested by a third party company, and we need more of them. Preferably from a few other high schools, and other businesses if they deal with them. It will ensure that they can't just claim that one shipment went bad or some other loose cover story."

He taps his chin as he smiles to himself, looking up into the air as if it were a game. "After we have those results, then we can leak them to several different newspapers and government agencies. They will start the wild fire that will enable us to call in health inspections and close down their processing plants at which point our pre established companies swoop in and take over the accounts. We'll have them sanctioned into the ground hopefully by the end of the month. At which point we can either ignore them...or buy them up and liquidate."

[Imogen Slaughter] Clearly, Ray parrots. She smirks, ever so slightly.

As he, perhaps, makes her wait, perhaps gathers his thoughts, Imogen arches an eyebrow. And waits, patiently, her hands folded over Moira's carefully procured file folder.

"I'd like to test the samples first," she says. "Independently to make sure tha' we know what we're handin' over."

A pause. "Ideally, we need t'cut th'carotid, not bleed them dry, t'use yer metaphor. If they ha' warnin' as t'what is happenin', I imagine they'll find a way to move the actual act o' taintin' to another company before they go down. They're not in this fer the money; they're in this t'spread taint as far and as fast as possible.

"Do you ha' a suggestion tha' might result in a faster execution?"

[Ray Ostermann] "That is the fastest execution, infact that is lightning fast for this kind of operation, as I said this sort of thing usually takes months. If we have our companies ready, our tests verified by a third party, and several more samples set. We can unleash the information to the media and government, and have them sanctioned into the ground and closed down within a week."

He says as he chuckles a bit, finding something funny as he leans there looking at Imogen.

"Trust me, I know my business, the only way you'd shut them down any faster is to blow up their holdings."

[Moira] She watches the play between Imogen and Ray, her tongue poking into her cheek. Moira shakes her head, straightening up from the table. "If I'm not needed for anything else, I should be going. I have to be in Chinatown tonight to help out a friend."

She turns to Imogen and nods, "Call me if you need me for anything else."

A glance to Ray, "Take care, I'll speak to you later, Ray."

[Imogen Slaughter] "You mentioned a month," Imogen points out, mildly, turning her attention to Moira.

"Does Karl ha' a pack?" she asks, as the girl is leaving.

[Ray Ostermann] Ray waves to Moira and flashes another one of his favorite smiles at the woman. "See you soon Moira, I am eager to discuss whatever it is you have in mind."

Ray then looked back to Imogen and shrugs. "Conservative estimate, I was including time for negotiations with the companies and proper lab testing, the real event will take place very, very quickly.."

[Moira] Moira stops at the door, turning back to look at Imogen. She shakes her head, "Not yet. Last I heard, he was hanging around with the Joe and Kora, and then received an offer from Lukas and the Unbroken. So, I think he's still looking."

[Imogen Slaughter] The kin-doctor nods slightly. "Ask him if he knows his way 'round machinery, will you? Cars and th'like."

[Moira] "I'll do that." She nods to Imogen and slips out, leaving Ray and Imogen to battle it out with words.

[Moira] (Thanks for the scene!)

[Imogen Slaughter] "Ta," brief. "Goodnight."

(thanks back! another post incoming)

[Imogen Slaughter] She returns her attention to Ray. The kinwoman's bright hair is pulled back from her eyes, held in place by a clip, several tendrils falling free to brush her cheekbones, caress her jawline. She unfolds her hands, lifting one to push back her hair from her eyes, tucking them back behind her ear. The gesture is careless, almost thoughtless.

There are several seconds of silence. Several moments of stillness.

"I'll test th' samples, then," she says evenly, "then arrange fer independent verification. Before we're ready t'release the evidence, I'll see if I can't arrange some property damage o' some sort - masqueraded as wear'n'tear.

"Yeh ha' the government contacts t'make this happen, am I right?"

[Ray Ostermann] Ray nods at that question, quite certain of that fact. "I have the contacts to see these events unfold yes. I wouldn't have suggested we do it if I couldn't make it happen Imogen, I very rarely ever say I'll do something that I can't see through."

He says it pleasantly enough as he moves to take the open seat, as if he planned to stay for a good long while.

"You almost act like you don't believe I can manage it." He says with a smile and hand to his chest as if he were offended somehow.

[Imogen Slaughter] She shakes her head slightly, "I have no opinion o' the sort. I'm just makin' sure I understand the details." A pause, a faint smirk, "My questions ha' no ulterior motive, Mister Ostermann."

A pause.

"I ha' some media contacts as well as law enforcement - so I can do my part fer 'seedin' the information, as it were. And I ha' the medical and scientific contacts t'back it up, without involvin' myself.

"Is there anything else you will need before this goes down?"

[Ray Ostermann] Ray shakes his head at that. He already had everything he needed lined up it would seem, or maybe he just did this regularly.

"I'll set to work finding us a few companies that will fit the bill for what we want. One's with no ties to Whole Health Farms and its parent corporations. If things go smoothly we should have a few companies chomping at the bit within the week."

He pauses, before nodding, certain of that.

"Is there anything else you require Ms. Slaughter?"

[Imogen Slaughter] "Just one thing," she says, her mouth twisting slightly. "I'm marginalized far too often by defence attorneys. It's 'Doctor' Slaughter, if you would."

A beat.

"Thank you fer yer help. I'll be in touch."

[Ray Ostermann] Ray raised a brow at that, caught off guard ever so briefly. Before he stands and laughs. That full warm inviting laughter washing over Imogen's sense's as he straightens his oh so fine tailored suit and gives the woman the slightest of bows.

"Of course Dr. Slaughter. I'll see you soon I'm sure." He says with one last brilliant smile flashed her way, before the man slipped out of the room, smooth as silk, and disappeared from Hill House.

[Imogen Slaughter] "Goodnight." Little warms her heart. The laugh does not provoke a smile either, though it does offer a faint untensing of her mouth.

Ray leaves. Imogen returns to her file folders, the rain splashing the window panes and the ground outside.