The Nameless Pub

The Nameless is a middle-of-the-road, entirely traditional English pub. Its menu is full of pedestrian English comfort foods. Its decor is absolutely the dark, low-ceilinged, close-walled, green-and-panelled drinking establishment that's been in vogue for… well, very likely centuries, now.

Its main advantages are that it's far enough off-the-beaten-path so as to not attract undue attention, but still enough on-the-beaten path so as not to be totally out-of-the-way and unknown. Therefore, it just about perfect as a non-supernatural, out-in-plain-sight sort of neutral ground.


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Aidan Rhys

Looking more the working-class Welshman than the playboy media exec he is, Rhys Owens sits in a table off to one side but otherwise right in the middle of pub. He wears jeans, a grey pullover, and a brown tweed jacket that's neither the height of style nor a fashion faux-pas. He has a grey newsboy cap on his head, and there's enough of a five-o'clock shadow about his jaw that anyone that actually knew him might have to look twice to readily recognize him. There's a mug of beer in front of him — a golden lager, actually — and the remains of a handful of peanuts.

Leaning back casually in his chair, his eyes flick from watching the sports cast on the grainy telly over the bar and the comings and goings of the others that move through the establishment.


The telephone call requesting a meeting had taken Aidan by surprise, to say the least. Though his voice never reflected it, he had to admit that he was both wary and curious about why the sorceror wanted the meeting. However, it was on more of neutral ground, and Aidan is willing to give the benefit of the doubt. That doesn't mean that he doesn't tell Kim where he's going, though not whom he's meeting.

Aidan takes a taxi cab, as the silver BMW might attract more attention than he would like. He's dressed casually as well; dark jeans, boots, dark t-shirt, leather jacket. The Vampire knows when it's good to stand out and good to blend. Tonight is one of those blending nights.

He steps inside and scans the crowds, looking for all the world like a human coming in from the night, seeking familiar faces and friends. His gaze lands on the man at the bar with the golden lager in front of him, and Aidan makes his way in that direction.

He slides onto the next empty stool with an agile grace, and signals the bartender, ordering a scotch.


"Evenin'," the sorcerer says lightly to the vampire, tapping the brim of his cap. "Nice night, isn't it?" It seems a nice casual way of starting a conversation. Rhys has no doubt who the dark Irishman is. He does his homework ahead of time. "Nice of you to meet me. I do appreciate it."

He takes a casual swig of his lager, now, setting it back down easily on the tabletop. "Thought a little bit of a chat might be in order, given the bit of a fracas earlier."

"Good evening," Aidan returns the greeting with a nod. The scotch is served up promptly, and Aidan raises the glass toward the sorceror in a salute, "Indeed it is. Seems that spring is finally in the air." He takes a few swallows of the scotch, enjoying the smooth smokiness before lowering the glass to the tapletop. "I didn't see any reason to decline." Mostly because it seemed in Aidan's best interest to find out what the other man wants.

"I can certainly agree with that sentiment," Aidan gives a mirthless chuckle. Fracas, is one way to describe the goings on that happened in the Undercity. "Clearing the air is likely a good idea."


"Given how you seem to have charmed the lady," Rhys says amiably enough, though there's no denying that 'charmed' is a substitute for 'glamour', in this case, "and the fact you were kind enough to escort her from the market, I take it you've something of a vested interest in her. Is that true?"

He's not really one to spend a lot of time beating around the bush.


The man's directness is appreciated. Why waste time with frivolities? Aidan considers the question and his answer. He is not certain that his idea of vested interest matches with the sorceror's, but he certainly does have some unfinished business with the little witchling.

"Yes," Aidan answers simply enough, because it really is that simple. He's set his sights on Corrie — for a variety of reasons — and he doesn't like to back down easily. "She was … foolish and reactive, but I didn't want to see any harm come to her." Unless he's causing it, of course.

That isn't saying that Aidan won't walk away if it means avoiding a conflict between sorcerors and vampires, but he isn't playing that card if he doesn't have to do so.


Rhys considers that for a moment. "May I ask what you see your interest to be?" he asks then. "Really, all I care is how far it extends. She was quite definitely foolish and reactive. We, as a general rule, however, are not." Hence this little tete-a-tete.


Aidan hides it well, but the question does come as a surprise. He raises his brows, more of an acknowledgment of the question than a display of his surprise at it, taking another sip of the scotch while he thinks of how best to formulate his answer.

"We have unfinished business and she is very likely snooping into things that are over her head." Not a lie, after all, she did push for information on Imef and more details about Aidan and Sean were discussing. He doesn't doubt for a moment that the tenacious woman has been dabbling there. "While I'm certain that our reputation preceeds us, I don't necessarily believe in wholesale slaughter, particularly if someone can be reasoned with and worked with in a more amiable fashion." Glamoured and molded as needed, take your pick. And she would be most useful to Aidan.


Rhys reaches for his lager and takes another pull from the mug, again considering the Vampire's words. "Right," he says finally, putting the mug down. "I'll make it simple, then. As far as my family's concerned, we don't much care what you do with her — providing you're not thinking you can use her to get to us in any way."

The fact is, he has what he needs from Corrie: He has Dumnonia signed to his label and assigned to one of his people to manage and handle. Unless or until she comes on board to work as a Reese employee, she technically has very little say in what happens with the band. And the Dynasty has absolutely no interest in her any more. The courtesies he's extended her thus far are just that — courtesies.

On a personal level… Rhys doesn't consider her to be all that bad. But, that doesn't mean she's not an idiot, taking pot shots at his brother and getting herself all twisted up in the machinations of a vampire.

"Likewise," he adds, now, "we're not much interested in your business, or that of… your family," for lack of a better word. A beat. "Basically, what I'm saying is: We'll stay out of your way, if you stay out of ours. The woman isn't one of ours." Not yet, anyway. "If that were to change, I'd, of course, let you know. But, until then…?" He shrugs the thought causally away as self-evident given everything else he's said.

Simple, straight-forward. Aidan can respect that. "I don't have any more interest in your family than you do in mine, I assure you. Really, I think it's best if the two never … mingle, shall we say?" Vampires have spent centuries avoiding sorcerors, and vice-versa. It's a precedent and there is probably a very good reason for such. "My business with our fiery friend is strictly personal in nature. I don't wish to use her to get to you or yours."

Another drink is taken from the glass of scotch, and the last of the man's words are mulled over and processed. Perhaps Reese was not so far from the truth, and there is a bit of a romantic interest there, though … it's interesting that the man is choosing family over the woman. It's a calculated, bold move, one that truly reminds Aidan of something one of his kind would do. Vampires over humans, family over outsiders. He can respect that.

"As I said, I don't wish to … intefere with your family. If the situation should alter itself, I certainly wouldn't want to be caught in the middle." Aidan's mouth turns up in a smile, warm and politely understanding. Until the situation alters itself, however …


Rhys isn't fool enough to entirely trust a vampire. That said, he's a pragmatic fellow and he knows damn well that the vampire's assertion that sorcerers and vampires shouldn't mix is absolutely true. It's been racial policy for both for centuries, and stood them all in good stead, as a result. Thus…

"Then, we have an understanding," he smiles. He chuckles dryly. "Whatever your business is with her, I wish you luck with it. I have a feeling she's more trouble than she's worth, but all the same…" He raises his pint mug in a brief salute to luck. "Sláinte."

"I'm beginning to suspect the same, but, I don't like loose ends." The sorceror is wise not to trust Aidan, but in this, there is no subterfuge — at least not with regards to the dynasty. What he will do when he gets the little witchling in his clutches is another matter entirely. He would like to protect himself primarily, but having her docile and civil until he tires of her would be an added bonus. But that's neither here nor there and doesn't concern the other man. "I'm hopeful that I can reason with her." One way or another.

Aidan raises his own glass, echoing the salute. "Sláinte."

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