Murder Mystery Scene2 (10/7/98)

[Zami Wahye <wahye@yahoo.com>]

Traiken, a medic working on the fallen body of Hannick, comes into the Imperial Lounge to relax between shifts.  What he finds is anything but relaxing...

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Lounge -- Imperial Hotel (Kaitain)(#254Rt)

Cato enters from the hotel lobby.
Cato has arrived.

Kirc takes a seat at the bar.

Darvin enters from the hotel lobby.
Darvin has arrived.
Darvin hobbles in on his cane.

Darvin nods to Cato.

Kirc sits sipping a drink.

Cato follows Darvin in, a silent ghost of a functionary compared to 
  Darvin's hobbling form.

Iohannes enters from the hotel lobby.
Iohannes has arrived.

Iason enters from the hotel lobby.
Iason has arrived.

Kirc lifts his drink at Iohannes' entrance, pointing at an empty bar 
  stool next to him.

Iohannes bows with a jaunty flourish to all.
Iohannes takes a seat at the bar.
Iohannes finds the seat, nodding at Kirc.

Darvin takes a seat at the blue table.

Traiken strolls into the lounge. Already the dark bags under his eyes 
  hang to make his face even uglier, a darkness which is only overcome 
  by the black diamond on his forhead.

Cato follows his Minister of State to the blue table, careful NOT to 
  pull Darvin's chair out for him, as the young man's dignity might not 
  survive such a gregious blow.

Iohannes nods to Traiken. "You look unwell, sir. You ought to sit and 
  have a drink!"

Cato takes a seat at the blue table.

Iason pushes through the door, nodding to the others as he bows to those 
  above him in rank.

Kirc shifts in his seat, nodding almost imperceptibly at Traiken.

Traiken lets out the almost inaudible snort as he makes his way across 
  the room to Iohannes, "Aye. that I am Sirre... that I am."

Iohannes sighs, "It is had to be a mentat in these fierce days! Just 
  look at the poor fellow they had to deal with the other day! Sweating 
  blood! Did you work with him, man?"

Kirc sips his drink wordlessly.

Iason goes to order a drink, scanning the room.

Traiken lets the smallest shiver pass over his body. He closes his eyes 
  slightly and shakes his head. His voice is dry, "Yes." Without a 
  pause, he turns and adds on, "Excuse me sirre. I think I need a 
  drink."

Iohannes is impatient with the dull bar tender. He swigs from his own 
  hip flask, wiping it on his sleeve and offering it to the Suk.

Iohannes shouts to the staff, "You heard the man, a drink!"

At the blue table, Darvin seemingly annoyed by all the noise says, "I 
  wish they'd keep it down a bit."

Iohannes nods to the blue table. "Forgive me noise, honoured sirs. I am 
  slightly overwrougt, and am perhaps a little tipsy."

The bartender's head perks up as he is rudely called for, and he stares 
  at Iohannes for a minute. Turning his head back to the conversation he 
  is in, he talks for maybe another full minute before nodding politely 
  to his customer and only THEN heading for the young men calling to 
  him. In a cold voice reserved for putting rough soilders from 
  backworlds in their place, he entones, "May I help you, sir?"

Traiken lays one hand lightly against his forehead and sighs. As he 
  lifts it, he turns to the bartender and addresses him, "Something 
  strong." That's all he manages to get out of his mouth.

Kirc adds softly, "And another double for myself."

Iason's eyes narrow, as he reaches into his pocket for a comm.

Kirc 's eyes narrow slightly as he peers at Traiken closely.

Iason pulls out his comm, putting downt he drink he receives to comm 
  medical services.

The bartend nods cordially to Traiken and Kirc, and retreats beneath the 
  bar for a fresh pair of shotglasses, which he fills with the same 
  harsh Geidi Prime whisky. "Of course, m'lords."

At the blue table, Cato grunts, and flips his menu closed. Cato places 
  it in front of him, and looks up and around with that bright-eyed look 
  of a man who knows what he wants to eat.

Kirc is now set 'In-Character.'

Traiken reaches for the glass and tosses his head back. No hesistation, 
  his eyes close as he absorbs the fluids.

Iohannes looks at Traiken intently. "If you would like to unload 
  yourself, sir, please feel free."

Kirc shifts in his seat, moving slightly away from the medic.

Iason studies the medic silently, eyes narrowed as he speaks into the 
  comm.

"Unload?" Traiken raises his eyebrows at the other man. At the same time 
  he places the glass back down onto the countertop. It seems as if the 
  drink has already made him somewhat clearer, a reddish hue already 
  entering into his face.

A worried look overwhelms Kirc's features. He raises a hand to his 
  forehead.

Figuring the Suk knows what's best, the bartend even-handedly pours some 
  more of the same back into his glass.

Iohannes says, "I beg pardon, honourable suk. I use an old turn of 
  phrase without thinking. If you would to share some of the burden of 
  what you have had to deal with..."

Iohannes says, "Is what I meant to say."

Traiken lets out the lowest snort, a laugh perhaps. For some reason, he 
  begins to look about himself in the room and takes note of two 
  familiar faces. He smiles lightly and lifts his glass again, 
  presenting it in the direction of Iason as if to cheer him, "I'm 
  afraid sirre... I'm not at liberty to do that as my services were paid 
  for by another." With that said, he takes another big swig of the 
  liquor.

Jans enters from the hotel lobby.
Jans has arrived.

Iohannes looks at the Suk with a puzzled expression.

Iason talks into the comm, listening for a reply as he watches the 
  scene.

Jans enters calmly, yet purposefully, his cane tapping rhythymically 
  upon the floor as he slowly walks into the lounge.

Iohannes glances at Iason as he bows to the na-Viscount.

Kirc tilts his head in acknowledgement of Jans' entrance.

Iohannes asks in wonder, "How could a suk be bribed to remain silent on 
  wuch an issue?

Iason nods a bit to his comm, bowing to the na-Viscount as he discons 
  and puts his comm away.

Another man in black, seeming to be several years younger that Traiken, 
  enters. His movements are quick, as if he were in panic. In his hurry, 
  he nearly brushes the na-Viscount.

Jans espies the the markings of House Ginaz, and a pleasant smile 
  develops across his face. He begins a slow, but steady line in the 
  direction of their table.

Iohannes leaves his seat at the bar.
Iohannes stands, looking at the figure.

Iason gestures to Traiken, as he sees the other man enter, frowning as 
  he looks back towards Traiken.

Iohannes says, "Sir, who are you to knock aside our na - Viscount!?!!"

Traiken tilts his head. He opens his mouth as if to answer and then 
  looks towards the direction Iohannes attention has been drawn. It 
  takes him a moment, but he recognizes that at least this man deserved 
  his respect and bows his head.

Cato notices the direction of Darvin's gaze, and turns his head to look 
  at Jans. He smiles broad (much like a Cheshire cat) and stands up to 
  greet the na-Viscount.

Jans's eyes are so intent upon the duo serving House Ginaz, he fails to 
  notice the man. He now stands before the Ginaz table.

The second medic stops nearly in the center of the room. All the gust 
  has gone out of him as he looks bewildered about the occupants in the 
  room, finally letting his gaze fall upon Traiken.

Kirc continues to sip his drink, eyes flicker throughout the room.

At the blue table, Darvin nods not standing as it is too much hassle.

Iohannes relaxes, sitting back at the bar.
Iohannes takes a seat at the bar.

At the blue table, Darvin smiles to Jans, saying, "Would you care to 
  join us Na-Viscount?"

The second medic approaches Traiken with hurried steps, making time only 
  enough for a terse bow, "Master. I had received a frantic call there 
  was another..." His voice trails off.

Iohannes looks at the two men with a shocked glance.
 
The man behind the counter fades into the background after refilling 
  Traiken's glass one more time. The staff of the Hotel are paid well 
  enough to know when they are required NOT to be present, and this man 
  fulfills that role now.

Traiken lifts one eyebrow and slowly scans the room. He merely mouths 
  the word, 'Oh?'

Iason's gaze remains on Traiken, as he picks up his glass to sip at, 
  staying out of the way.

Jans slams the steel capped butt of his cane into the floor with a force 
  that leaves a good sized scuff upon the tiles. He looks coyly at 
  Darvin, then turns to Cato, "I would, but it would seem that some do 
  not care for my company, or the rules embraced of society." He pauses, 
  to ignore Darvin, "You may relay to your Minister of State, once he 
  has regained his senses, that House Alvstad is still displeased with 
  the na-Marquis' pledge of information about the incident which left us 
  without the services of our Swordmaster." He then lowers his gaze, and 
  adds, "And I would inquire as to the health of the Marquis, and of 
  course the Marquise and their daughter."

At the blue table, Darvin stands slowly, and painfully, "Sirra do you 
  besmirtch my honor?!?"

Darvin leaves his seat at the blue table.

A shout? The potential for a conflict? Both of the medics turn their 
  heads in unison towards the blue table.

Cato's smile becomes brittle, but remains plastered to his face. "My 
  lords, please, sit down so that we may discuss this cordially!"

Kirc stands slowly.

Iason's eyes narrow at the confrontation, though his eye move anywhere 
  BUT the fight...

Jans looks toward Darvin, "Your honor, no." He adjusts his ascot, 
  sniffing a bit, "It is your manners that leave an ill taste in my 
  mouth."

Iohannes glances nervously at the blue table.

Darvin saying loudly, "Sir, you insult me, if you do not retract your 
  insult I will be forced to ask you who your second is!"

Traiken places a hand on the bartop, poised ready to move least it be 
  needed. He lets out the smallest of sighs that again sents a shiver 
  down his body.

Cato, eloquently enough, drops his ingrained ambassadorial smile. The 
  position he takes at Darvin's side is, well, indicative of no small 
  amount of martial training.

Iason silently slips over towards the medics, to mutter into the other 
  one's ear.

Darvin says rather loudly, "As for your house's loss of a swordsmaster, 
  well Sirra my house lost several men, some of whom I knew quite 
  personally, and I sirra myself damn near lost a leg!"

Iohannes glances at Iason once more, brow furrowed, before returning his 
  attention to the blue table.

The second medic looks back towards Iason, the shock apparent upon his 
  face. He slowly looks back to Traiken and then shakes his head at 
  Iason, "I'm afraid Lord. Master Traiken is merely... tired."

Iason mutters a bit towards the medic, "Exhaustion does not affect the 
  metabolism in THAT fashion."

A worried look at the medic, then Kirc reseats himself, adjusting his 
  clothing as he does so.

Iason's eyes keep scanning the area, including the fight.

Iohannes look Traiken

Jans turns toward Darvin, "I need no second before a man who does not 
  respect the Farfreuluches." He sighs, "It would be below my station." 
  He then offers a smile toward Darvin, "Stay your hand, and live to 
  server your Siridar-Marquis another day, old swordsman. You need not 
  fear my invocations of the forms tonight. It is not in my temper."

Traiken's attentions are clearly on the conflict ahead as he casually 
  answers to Iason for himself, "If I had the metabollism for drink 
  perhaps you would be correct... for I was not born with that gene. Nor 
  were any of my descendants." He shoots a quick, almost angry glare at 
  Iason as he finishes, "Sirre." And then turns back to watch the 
  shouting men.

Darvin says, "Sirra I am a Count of the Imperium, and a son of a 
  Siridar, I call you out, at your lesiure, and with whatever weapons 
  you choose you curr that claims a title."

Iohannes murmusr to the Medic while watching the blue table, "You have 
  children?"

Jans smiles, squinting, "Perhaps it is my mistake indeed. You do 
  resemble the Siridar-Marquis, but I fail to note the crest entitling 
  you as his son. All I see is the uniform of a swordsman, in service to 
  the good Marquis."

Iohannes takes a several gulps from his hip flask, draining it dry. He 
  looks flushed and unsteady.

Traiken pays Iohannes no immediate heed. He narros his eyes and then 
  reaches into his pocket where he begins to speak into a communicator.

Darvin snaps out with a quick blow, intended to shock more than hurt.

Iason's expression closes over, as his body language alters subtly.

Traiken lowers his communicator with a nod of his head. He looks towards 
  the other medic and nods again.

Iohannes stares in sheer disbelief at the Ginaz minister.

Darvin says, "I don't know what was promised to you, you little brat, 
  but if you want information you ask nicely."

Some of the other patrons near the Blue table begin to move away... some 
  even move out of the room.

Traiken shakes his head and closes his eyes. He again takes in a deep 
  breath and sighs.

Cato winces slightly as the blow strikes, and then covers a sigh at his 
  Minister's ever-so-eloquent phrasing of a retort, but stands at his 
  lord's side, waiting as Darvin's most obvious second.

Jans takes the shot onto his cheek from the slightly smaller man. He 
  then straightens his ascot, and smiles slightly. "Now, then, who is 
  acting out of emotion, and who is calm? I did ask, if you were sober 
  enough to pay attention." He looks to Cato, "You were witness, we are 
  engaged. You shall hear from me soon upon this matter."

Traiken turns towards the people nearest to him and speaks with dry 
  humor, "Well at least if one of these two should die we'd know what it 
  was from."

Darvin says very loudly, "Any time you can buy the guts to come and face 
  me, my kindjal will be ready."

Cato nods slowly at Jans, "Your shameful behavior has been witnessed, 
  Lord Alvstad."

Iason says nothing, his expression cold as he scans the room once more.

Darvin shouts, "Maybe one of these fine Gentlemen here could be the 
  great Na-Viscount Alvstad's second, then we could skip the waiting."

Jans he half bows to Darvin, "Please, convey my regards to your father, 
  the Siridar-Marquis. And to the Marquise, as well." He laughs. "Oh, of 
  course. With House Ginaz, the forms put aside for play." He turns 
  toward the Atreides Minister, "Lord Merx, these gentlemen need their 
  memories refreshed. Might I call upon your assistance?"

Kirc stands, offering softly, 'I would be honored Lord Jans to be your 
  second.'

Cato's face flushes slowly as Jans continues to insult his beloved House 
  Ginaz, but he waits for the young man to accept Darvin's challenge 
  silently.

Iason's eyes keep moving around as he turns to Jans. "Upon which 
  matter?" he asks, his voice neutral.

Iohannes nods. "Or I, my lord na-Viscount..."

Darvin laughs, "Ahh your lackeys tumble over themselves to help you."

Jans smiles, "If my memory serves correctly, you attended your Lord 
  Atreides at that tragic show of security upon the Ginaz estate....oh, 
  about a fortnight ago, I think it was."

Hotel staff quietly drift into the room, slowly pulling tables and 
  chairs out of a ring in the middle of the lounge (evidently called in 
  by the bartend). This sort of affair has evidently occured on these 
  premises before.

Kirc 's eyes flash dangerously at Darvin, but he holds his tongue.

Iason says, "And, my lord..?"

Jans continues swirling about the room, looking at the crowd grow. He 
  gestures with his cane toward Darvin, "Did not House Ginaz -promise- 
  the attending Lords reports about the aforementioned incident?"

Darvin snarls at Jans, "Am I Ginaz's mouthpeice?"

Iason replies, "And the Saudaukar are also investigating the matter."

Jans turns, and smiles. "Are you not Minister of State? Do not your 
  lackey's have voice to say, "

Jans turns, and smiles. "Are you not Minister of State? Do not your 
  lackey's have voice to say, "We regret the loss of your Swordmaster, 
  but we still are investigating the matter at hand."

Darvin looks to the group, "I personally was insulted! Not House Ginaz! 
  If the Na-Viscount has nerve to insult my house, May he do so before 
  the Landsraad and not in the Imperial Hotel!"

Traiken leans towards the other medic and whispers something. Almost 
  immediately, the other medic looks at the blue table and then hurries 
  out of the room, the same path he came in by.

Iason's eyes scan the room, the fight.. and at this rate, he should go 
  mad, with the type of datafeed.

Cato raises an eyebrow, and utters coldly. "We regret the condition of 
  the House Alvstad Swordmaster, but we are still investigating the 
  matter."

Darvin stares at Jans, "If you had brain one in your pompous overrated 
  little head you'd have understood that until yesterday I was confined 
  to a hospital room suffering the effect of SAID blast!"

Darvin looks at Cato, "As for House Ginaz's Lieutenants, they are 
  working with the utmost diligence to find the cause of the blast which 
  had it not gone off before it should have would have destroyed all the 
  Siridar present."

Jans raises his voice into a command tone, learned from service in the 
  Navy of his House. "I have asked, I did so tonight." He points his 
  cane directly into the chest of Darvin, "You took this personally, not 
  I. You should control your temper, Minister, before you take 
  irrevocalble steps toward something your House will regret."
  You paged Sumter with 'if you'd like to emit a character, there's a 
  young medic I just sent out the room to go get some supplies least 
  there be a fight... you could emit his actions for me.'.

Darvin growls, "Is that what passes for an Alvstad apology these days?"

Iason moves forward to interpose himself physically between the two men. 
  "My lords!" he barks, raising his voice, even as he looks between both 
  men. "We are in enough trouble without fighting amongst ourselves!"

Iason says, "The Landsraad cannot afford infighting or any more 
  declarations of kanly at this moment. The employers of the assassins 
  engaged us so in order to split our attention; shall we give in to his 
  or her desires?"

The medic returns, carrying a black medical case in one han as he gulps 
  and nervously glances from side to side, timidly brushing back his 
  brown hair with one hand as he presses back against the wall, looking 
  towards the escalation before beginning to walk.

Traiken spots the medic and lets out a small sigh of relief. In doing 
  so, his form seems to relax ever so slightly as he takes a seat at the 
  bar and lightly signals to the bartender, "Another."

Iason keeps his voice as level and calm as possible. "My lord Alvstad, I 
  believe that House Ginaz is operating as best as it can with the 
  reduction in forces in this investigation; tracing explosive shipments 
  or people takes time, and more so since there were many experienced 
  men injured during the explosion. We all regret the injury to 
  Swordmaster Sumter, and wish him a speedy recovery. My question to 
  you, Lord Alvstad, is this; will this assist in his healing, or will 
  further actions divert necessary resources towards prosecuting an 
  action that may not be easily reversed?

Jans snorts, and shakes his head sadly. "You will have my apology, when 
  our House receives a formal apology from the na-Marquis, for the 
  damage done. Along with who is held accountable, so that such measures 
  may be taken." He nods toward Iason, a bit cooly, but agrees 
  nonetheless. "-This- Minister is right." He looks back toward Darvin, 
  "I know your mind, you have heard mine. Their are witnesses, and I am 
  within my rights, as the injustice done to my House, and my friend 
  have precedence. In accord with my rank, station, and the sequence of 
  events."

The bartend shrugs to himself, now that the matter is out of his hands 
  with the arrival of the other hotel staff, and refills the Suk's glass 
  again, murmuring something about taking it easy on the old liver.

Iason glances towards Darvin next. "And as for you, my lord Ginaz, my 
  Duke does believe that you are acting in this matter, but I too desire 
  more information and quickly, as the trail grows colder daily. IF you 
  could perhaps send copies of what data you have to the Houses 
  involved, it may serve to alleviate tensions for the moment.:

Darvin looks at Mister Merx, "I will, but I will not be wronged for 
  something I have had little part in, by someone who does not know all 
  the facts, nor cares to find out them either."

Iohannes nods. "Wise words my lord Ambassador Merx!"

Darvin looks to all, "I would be more than willing to share my 
  information, if all parties involved can conduct themselves in a 
  cordial and non-agressive manner."

Iason's tone drops in temperature, becoming slightly arch, yet calm and 
  as cold as space. "However, the behavior displayed here has been 
  shameful."

Jans raises an eyebrow, and throws both hands up into the air. "You are 
  Minister of State, and you care not whom your House does not uphold 
  agreements made by it's Siridar and his heir?"

Iason says, "Most of those who were at the reception have suffered 
  wounds of one form or another. It does not excuse actions taken in hot 
  blood, nor cold.""

The medic fumbles with the case, easing sideways through the crowd, eyes 
  flickering back and forth nervously as he watches the argumentative 
  ones.

Cato steps forward a fraction of a pace to stare up into the tall young 
  Jans's eyes. With the expression of a father educating his petulant 7 
  year old child, the middle-aged man speaks. "House Ginaz formally 
  apologizes for the damages incured by House Alvstad personel by the 
  neiglience," Cato practically grinds that word out, "of our security 
  forces in not being able to police all of Kaitain for home made 
  explosives. Now will my Lord Alvstad retract his insult to Count 
  Darvin?"

Iason purses his lips, as he scans the room again, ever wary since the 
  bombing.

Traiken lifts the glass in his hand and tilts it towards the bartender 
  with a smile, "Thanks ol' friend." He lets out a small snort and a dry 
  laugh, "I'm just making sure I don't go down like that dead guy... no 
  punture wounds about my neck or ankle. No... when I die, I WANT them 
  to know it's from consumption." He end with that same laugh and then a 
  toss of his head and glass backwards.

The bartend winces as the fifth and six consecutive shots go rolling 
  down Traiken's throat (and as the man describes grisly demises), but 
  he merely murmurs something non-commital and refills the glass.

Darvin accepts silence as Jans' answer, he looks at Jans trying to find 
  his mind, "I would have been more interested if our House SUK had 
  allowed me any work while I was in the hospital, as it was, I was 
  being cordial and I tried to invite you over to relay information, but 
  your fast tongue moved before your slow mind did."

Jans takes his attention off of Darvin for a moment, looking toward 
  Cato. After a moment, he nods briefly. "On behalf of my father, and 
  our House, I do accept the formal apology of House Ginaz for the 
  injustice done to House Alvstad." He smiles a bit ruefully, adding, 
  "Due to the negligence of their security forces on patrolling the 
  whole of Kaitain. As a suggestion of one with a keen mind for 
  strategy, I would offer the following advice: Redirect your efforts to 
  your own estates and embassies. It is much more efficient." He then 
  turns toward Darvin.

Iason says, "The bomber came unprepared.. and charged the open doors. 
  Ginaz forces were killed intercepting him."

Darvin looks at Iason, "Yes, some were my friends, since childhood 
  practically."

Iason looks at Jans silently. "The Plaza sees enough traffic to make 
  interception a difficult course at best, and such interception is 
  useless against explosive weapons of that nature. It is why they were 
  banned in the forms.

Iason says softly, "Thus,my lord, I see not the blame to be laid at 
  Ginaz' feet for being unable to blockade the Plaza, a place of 
  business. The area is public, free for all."

Iason says, "And chemical sniffers are useless in such situations, with 
  so many people present and the exhaust fumes and chemicals used in the 
  plaza itself."

Jans nods, with a sigh. "You are correct, Count Ginaz. I mistook your 
  offer for an act of......indifference." He coughs, "I apologize if my 
  actions did indeed make you feel as if your honor was questioned. It 
  is not you, with whom my quarrel is, and my father and I fail to see 
  eye-to-eye on enough issues." He chuckles, "I doubt if one of us were 
  to need the aid of an inebriated Suk, if I would endear myself to him 
  any further."

Cato stares at Jans like the noble-born man were something that he had 
  found messed on his ornithopter windshield, but nods curtly, stepping 
  back to let Darvin become the full focus of Jan's attention. 
  Discreetly, Cato unbuttons his jacket so that the faint shape of a 
  sheild belt can be seen encircling his waist.

The medic's head goes down, and he opens the bag, mumbling quietly under 
  his breath as he pushes through the equipment inside, occasional 
  glances darting upwards, towards the arguing people once more. "Gauze, 
  gauze, I hope I brought enough gauze.."

Iason's voice becomes even quiet. "I assure you, my lords, that neither 
  of you would be allowed to draw a weapon."

Darvin relaxes, after the apology, saying, "Apology accepted, If my 
  House has acted without concern, it is only because we are short 
  staffed and undermanned. The Marquis has left us with only bare 
  minimums of security, as he fears the attack was meant for him."

Iason's head turns as he looks between the two men. "Both of you would 
  be rendered prone and immobile before that would be allowed, your fool 
  senses of pride be damned."

Jans gestures toward Iohannes, "And, in order to aid our 
  two.....concerned Houses, I offer you the services of Minister 
  Helmsgillar, in order to speed up such....delays in communication."

Traiken finds it hard to hide a smile at Iason's words.

Cato frowns at Iason, visibly disapproving of this contempt for the 
  forms of deuling.

Iohannes nods at the acknowledgement.

Iason says, "We have enough blood shed between all our Houses, and this 
  time of crisis has yet to conclude."

Iohannes leaves his seat at the bar.

Darvin nods, "Na-Viscount, your offer is generous, and accepted, House 
  Ginaz shall make the appropriate arrangements, will this be 
  satisfactory and assauge your Honor towards my House?"

Iohannes stands, bowing to all in the room. He bows again to the na - 
  Viscount and the Lord Minister. "I will await word from you, Lord 
  Minister Ginaz,"

Jans smiles, and gestures toward the table. "That, and a drink, will 
  help greatly. Let us toast those whom are injured, for their speedy 
  recovery, and then again, to remember those whose services shall be 
  missed."

Iohannes bowing, Iohannes leaves the room.

Iohannes passes through the arch leading into the hotel lobby.
Iohannes has left.

Iason raises one hand. "No, my lord Ginaz, my lord Alvstad. =-I-= will 
  pay for both drinks."
Iason says, "And for all those present. If only to soothe the nerves of 
  those present, and to further inebriate the Suk."

Darvin grins, seemingly quite Jovial now, "Of course Ambassador."

Traiken turns his head ever so slowly towards Iason and lifts his glass 
  again, "Here here!"

Cato simply reseats himself, expression neutral as he waits for Darvin 
  and Jans to both divest themselves of their respective canes.

Jans raises his glass, draining it, and then awaits a refill. His cane 
  remains tucked in the crook of his arm.

Darvin sits back at his table, obviously very tired from the 
  altercation.

Iason turns to put the drinks on his own tab.

Servers whisk around the room quickly, having opened a series of bottles 
  of the Hotel's more expensive wines, handing out glasses to those with 
  empty hands and filling them all for the toast.

Traiken looks down at his glass, refilled and untouched. He then reaches 
  into his pocket and produces a small pill box.

Jans takes a seat at the table near the window.

Cato raises his glass in a toast, eyes dwelling on Jans as the cocky 
  young noble receives his drink. Cato's gaze doesn't seem to leave 
  Jans's person, even when he tilts the glass high to drain the dregs.

Darvin gets a glass of wine, which he drains rather rapidly.

Darvin mutters to Cato, "Great... duelling... years!"

Traiken opens the box and removes a small pill that he immediately 
  downs. His eyes close for a moment, lost to the pill he just 
  swallowed. He shakes his head and begins to stand up from his position 
  at the bar.

Darvin hansigns Cato.

Using Lear, Darvin says, "... ... ... ..."

Cato mutters to Darvin, "If... me?"

Iason sips his drink, looking over at the others.

Darvin mutters to Cato, "... as..."

Cato sighs after his drink is empty, and stands for the bar, reasonably 
  certain that Darvin and Jans will not tear each other to pieces now. 
  As he makes his way there, however, he seems to divert his course and 
  is soon standing beside the somewhat sloshed Suk, and reaches out an 
  arm to steady the man by cradeling his elbow.

Traiken looks over towards Iason and nods his head, "Sirre. I will speak 
  with you when the blood report comes back from the lab. Yes?"

Justine enters from the hotel lobby.
Justine has arrived.

Iason nods to Traiken. "Indeed, sir. I am curious as to what was used.. 
  and what else may be used. That appeared to be a neurotoxin of some 
  form, to cause some of those responses."

Justine looks around the bar.

Kirc offers a terse wave from the bar.

Iason nods to the Suk, as he sips his drink. "Good day, sir."

Traiken breaks a weaks smile and nods his head, "Perhaps." The doubt 
  seeming to brim over in his voice. He bows and then heads out of the 
  lounge.

Cato steps along with Traiken, and leans forward to murmur something to 
  him in an almost conspiratorial tone.

Upon trying to bow, Traiken finds that there is an arm about his sleeve 
  and now there's a person whispering in his ear. He straightens and 
  listens.

Cato mutters to Traiken, "... a matter which... like... you... perhaps?"

Jans looks up, and smiles upon seeing Justine. He gestures for her to 
  join him, and to bring along another drink for himself.

Traiken nods his head, a bit tiredly. He looks out towards the door and 
  lets his feet follow.

Justine takes a seat at the table near the window.