oceancove

Who: Thomas McKinnon and Althea
What: Following the Swan Lake closing night
Where: The Cove's Performing Arts Center
When: Evening
Rating: TBD


It was no secret that the Talbot Memorial Theater had been named after the principal character in the Wolf Man movie franchise. That is, according to the guide books, which attracted visitors to the Cove annually, many of whom where turned away owing to the Supernaturals Protection Act of 1998 -- a piece of legislation which Thomas McKinnon was intimately acquainted. As it turned out, the fine arts center was not named for a werewolf at all, but after a local businessman who had profited in the post-crash market of the 1940s. As the economy in America grew following the Great Depression, so too did the fine arts scene, resulting in a number of opulent cinematic palaces up and down the Western seaboard.

Thomas arrived late, well after closing hours, when the ushers and patrons had retired for the evening. The success of Swan Lake had entered into a kind of infamy in the Cove and he could remember precisely his actions that night: stealing the bright, young ingénue away from her adoring fans and proposing instead that they share a couple of coney dogs. He'd been surprised that Althea had agreed. Even more surprised by the warmth he'd felt in the center of his chest when speaking to her, as if someone had lit a furnace behind his ribcage.

His actions that night were almost as inexplicable were his whereabouts this evening: standing on the velvet steps in the theater's main foyer, his tie slightly askew from a day's work, wondering what he was doing and why his mind was constantly returning to a blonde with a penchant for walking on her toes.

He migrated back to the dressing rooms, knocking on a particular door with a signature silver star.

Who: Thomas McKinnon and Althea.
What: Althea tracks down the lawyer who she shared a dance with.
When: Sometime in the late afternoon/early evening. May 18th.
Where: Starting at Thomas' office, then TBD.
Rating: PG/PG-13.
Status: In progress.

"May I help you?"

"I am here to see Thomas McKinnon."

It was rare that someone sought out a lawyer for a reason that didn't involve being on the wrong side of the law. But Althea had never possessed any trouble being an exception to a rule, and she certainly had no trouble looking for something that she wanted. Finding a human lawyer who held an association with Czech counts might have been a task considered complicated to others, but a career with prestige came with its benefits. Althea had asked Swan Lake's director, who had in turn led her to one of the show's central backers. Two cups of tea and a croissant later, Althea had a name - Thomas McKinnon - and an address, in a part of the Cove she hadn't been to before.

Swan Lake gave its company two separate nights off each week, and it didn't take long for Althea to change after the day's rehearsal. Instead of joining the company for dinner, she took a taxi towards the law office where Thomas McKinnon held his practice. The city moved by at a speed that was comfortable, long enough for Althea to collect her thoughts. If she was honest with herself, there was no reason to believe this lawyer would want to see her again. But she had rarely done things with that kind of concern in mind, and from a Fey who frequently followed her instincts, this was really no feat to be surprised by.

No, she wanted to see him again. And so, in ten minutes' time, Althea had found herself face to face with a curious, albeit bored receptionist. There had been the intent to refuse in her eyes, but Althea was never one to be dismissed easily.

"And is Mr. McKinnon expecting you?"

"No, he is not."

"He is very busy -"

"I do not mind waiting."

The receptionist regarded Althea with a level stare, as if she weren't sure whether or not to ask her if she were out of her mind or just let it pass. A few moments later the second option won out and she lifted the phone at her desk, pressing the receiver to her ear. Two beep-beeps sounded, and then

"Mr. McKinnon? There is someone here to see you."

Who: Thomas McKinnon and Althea
When: May 11, evening
Where: John Talbot Memorial Concert Hall, the Cove
What: An evening at the ballet and Thomas McKinnon gets more than he bargained for
Rating: PG
Status: Complete


There were certain aspects to the legal profession that could always be counted on, regardless of whether or not your client was human or a walking homage to Bela Lugosi. Not the least of these was perfecting the art of the schmooze. Schmoozing, as Thomas understood it, had actually originated with lawyers, and the fine art of ingratiation was as useful to young law school graduates as was a working knowledge of torts.

It was also the part of the job that Thomas liked the least.

Here he was, standing in the middle of a posh concert hall, dressed up like a penguin-in-waiting, while his partners at Horace & Walpole attempted to convince a very corpulent Czech vampire to route his estate trust through H & W channels. (The vampire had lost his home during the Velvet Revolution, when he had been required to flee it very quietly and with a great deal of haste. Only now, some twenty years after the event, was the red tape beginning to peel away.) In his political prime, the vampire had been a noted patron of the Bolshoi Theatre, particularly its ballet corps. Thomas assumed that was why he was holding a program for a production of Swan Lake, likely the most famous thing to come out of Russia since vodka and that funny little man with the weird birthmark on his head.

It wasn't that Thomas didn't like the theater. He did. It wasn't that he didn't understand why it was necessary to make the client happy. He knew where his paycheck came from. It was the fact that his partners insisted that he come along, when he knew very well that he could be back in the office getting a hell of a lot more done. (Okay, and so he thought Tchaikovsky was a little overrated as a composer.) But Thomas knew that the blue chip clients were few and far between these days, and their generous retainers often helped pay for the smaller, scrappier clients who couldn't pay for themselves. He'd have to grin and bear it for a few more hours.

The lights in the great hall dimmed and flickered. Patrons dressed in white tie and tails made their way up the stairs to private boxes; the people in the cheap seats queued up outside the doors, from which a small portion of the stage could be seen. This was a classical interpretation of the ballet -- none of that fancy avante garde minimalist stuff -- and the stage was draped with a thick red curtain trimmed in gold fringe. Say what you wanted about the Cove council: they knew how important the Arts were to a community. Thomas trailed his party into their private box beside the stage and sat down. The vampire had removed a pair of opera glasses from somewhere inside of his voluminous coat, even though their seats were close enough to the stage to see the chalk prints left by so many ballet shoes.

"The principle dancer," the vampire said, his vowels round and accented, "is quite remarkable. They say she is a vision. Even better than our beloved Anna Pavlova --" he touched his plump hand to his breast in memory "-- though, I will retain my assessment for after the Allegro semplice."

A hush fell over the crowd as the house lights went down. Thomas, now fully resigned to his fate (and the Allegro semplice), turned his attention to the stage.

Who: William Harwood & Althea
What: A meeting between a vampire and seelie fey - this could be quite interesting!
When: Late evening
Where: Cove's downtown sector
Rating: PG at best
Status: Closed and complete

He was not at all surprised at the rain in the forecast; Washington State seemed to have abundance of rainy nights (he could not say nothing of the days). If nothing else, it made the unfamiliar environment feel at least slightly more like home, and he was kind of thankful in the most morbid of ways that he hadn't been required to go somewhere like Hawaii, where we would have needed a different wardrobe entirely. And perhaps a location of sun, sand, and surf was not a suitable locale for a red haired vampire. Although, if William wanted to attempt at waxing poetic, it was nothing like London rain.

The sun had long dipped past the horizon, although amidst all of the dark clouds in the sky, William wasn't certain that he would've been able to tell. He'd brought an umbrella to brave the weather, although it wouldn't have made a difference - the wind seemed keen on rendering it relatively useless by turning it inside out. William had decided to forgo calling a car to drive him to the offices of the local branch of his company, as it wasn't far, only a couple of blocks. When he had left it had seemed like a good night for walking, and he was well aware that he should familiarize himself with the area a bit more.

Having woken up a bit later than he would have liked, William was already running late (by his standards, no one else's), and had neglected to make himself his usual evening cup of tea before leaving his condo. Ducking into the first coffee shop he could find with its lights still on, William ducked inside, shaking the rain off of his coat and glanced at the bleary eyed barista standing behind the counter.

"Could I get a tea?" he asked, eyes scanning the menu.

"Herbal?" the barista asked, pulling her hair back in a ponytail.

"What?" William said, raising an eyebrow. "No, thank you. Just tea. You know, tea flavoured tea."

"Um, Earl Grey?"

"Yes, delightful," he replied, smiling at her, grabbing the day's paper from the nearby rack and waiting for the barista to return with his order.