Where in the World is Dylan Willis?

[Wharil Choc]

He'd asked for a meeting. Short on detail, high on urgency. It meant he would have to play the host. At least by the usual standards. But Wharil doesn't have any food prepared. He hasn't even out a pot of coffee with little bowls of sugar cubes or anything. What he has done is secure a small corner of the Chantry house's study room. A place on the worn leather love seat where they could see the door, and thereby anyone passing. A place close enough to the rear of the room where they'd have to worry about eavesdroppers the least. And he's done her the courtesy of being on time. Early in fact, thumbing through some odd occult book while he waited.

[Wharil Choc]

to Ashley McGowen, Jacques-Marcel ((Not really. They're gonna talk some quick business, some of which might pertain to Jacques. Come on in.))

[Ashley McGowen]

Wharil called Ashley to ask her to meet up, and she's assuming it's not a social call. She'd suggested the chantry as the place to meet for that reason: it's difficult to find a place in Chicago that's safer for them to discuss whatever has to be discussed. Except perhaps her apartment. So she arrives at the Chantry after her evening class is through, still dressed in the same buttondown shirt and black pants that she'd put on for work that morning, a little haggard. She arrives early, probably only a little after Wharil, pulling her jacket off as she steps in the front door and turning slowly until she sees him. "Evening, Wharil."

[Jacques-Marcel]

Jacques hadn't been at the Chantry for quite some time. Once he had been a go-between for the new Magi to the city, but that idea had been a flop when it became obvious that none of them really wanted to work together. It wasn't his idea and subsequently nor was it his problem. But a few nights ago now, he had received a call from a concerned parent about the welfare of an ex lover. One of whom had made himself self appointed leader of this group of mishmash of individuals, and had since gone awol. Which, honestly, wasn't any different to any other Dylan lifestyle, but had Jacques turning up at the Chantry to see what the latest word was. He entered the familiar house and made himself a coffee in the kitchen before he'd go and seek out anyone else. He'd seen Ashley enter from where he'd been sitting in his car, parked down the street, while finishing a call. He knew at least someone was here.

[Wharil Choc]

"Hi Ashley." Wharil said, cheerful as always, and thumped the book closed. He set it on the coffee table and shuffled closer to the nearest edge of the love seat, indicating the expanse of empty seat beside him. "Have a seat. How've you been?"

[Ashley McGowen]

Ashley walks over to go and claim the other end of the loveseat, shrugging her messenger bag off her shoulder and setting it down in front of the couch. "I've been all right," she says. "I'm working a lot. Yourself?" She settles facing him, with her back against the arm rest of the couch. It's much easier to see him that way and at the same time keep the door on the side of her good eye so that she can catch new things out of her peripheral vision, if necessary.

[Jacques-Marcel]

Leaning against the bench, arms folded loosely across his neatly pressed shirt, he waited for the kettle to boil. A cup, a sugar and a dash of milk later, and the smell of strong coffee came from the kitchen. He briefly thought about making Ashley something, and quickly thought the better of it. After rinsing off the stirring spoon, wiping it dry and sticking it back in the drawer, he picked up his mug in one hand and began to wander halls in search of Magi.

[Wharil Choc]

"The same, more or less. Keeping busy and out of trouble. Under the radar and all that. Only...that might be changing soon. A couple of things have cropped up and I may need your help." He chuckles to himself, something tickling the back of his mind. "I mean, I may need your help again. You hear about Dylan?"

[Ashley McGowen]

He might need her help. This statement makes both of her eyebrows raise as she looks back at Wharil, pulling off a pair of black low-heeled business shoes and tucking one leg beneath her once her feet are free. "I didn't hear about Dylan, no. What happened?" She bites thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek and adds, a second later, "Seems like trouble just finds that guy, from what everyone tells me."

[Jacques-Marcel]

He pauses in view of the opened door to the study, cup steaming in hand and half raised up his chest. Glancing through to the duo on the love seat, he had nodded to Ashley the once, gauged their body language and decided to interrupt. "Ashley, have you heard from Dylan?"

[Wharil Choc]

"Well apparently he's--" And suddenly they're interrupted, though from his body language he'd seen it coming, head turning when the door pushed open. That was why they sat there. There's a touch of a question in Wharil's eyes as he sees Jacques here. Though the last time he'd met the man he'd had some sort of indication that he was involved with the dysfunctional society of magi somehow. Still, he wasn't exactly expecting to see him around here. And he wasn't at all expecting to hear him asking about Dylan. Wharil leans back in his seat, fingers touching at his lips as he looked to Ashley expectantly.

[Ashley McGowen]

She'd missed Jacques come in. It's easy for her to do, her ability to perceive the world around her dulled as it is. She doesn't forget a voice, though, and even though she hasn't seen Jacques for months she knows who is addressing her even before she turns her head to look at him. "...No, I haven't. We were actually just talking about him," Ashley tells Jacques, turning her head to look at the Euthanatos seated across from her. "The last time I saw Dylan was almost two months ago...he and I went to drop off a package for Marla in Grant Park."

[Jacques-Marcel]

His shoulder leans lightly against the doors frame and he crosses a foot over the other, sticking the toe of a leather loafer on the ground. The jeans he wears are nicely fitted, designer. For a brief moment he's distracted by the way Wharil is touching his lips. "I got a call from both Henrietta and Michael, Dylan's father," he goes on to explain, returning his gaze to the seated woman. "Last I heard from Dylan was two weeks ago." They were on the rocks. Ashley knew as much as that. Jacques had spoke to her last when he went off on business. It's been awhile. "You think there's need of concern? Dylan's not exactly reliable." The coffee is on the way to his lips, pausing when he adds, "This is his usual fanfare. Running off, being out of contact. .. he could be rotting in a Mexico jail cell for all I know."

[Wharil Choc]

"Hrm." He says, and the fingers at his lips turn to a full handed wipe of his chin. "I saw him a month ago. There was something...weird. And--" There's a detail there that he doesn't mention. Something he seems to think better of, but only after he'd already started. Wharil's lips purse for a moment. "Three weeks then. Does he usually go off without telling his dad though? I understood the two of them were close."

[Ashley McGowen]

Ashley just raises her eyebrows and her gaze trails back to Jacques. The two of them know Dylan much better than she does - she hadn't been aware that Dylan was in close contact with his father at all, much less that he lived with him. "He's disappeared like this before, though, hasn't he?"

[Jacques-Marcel]

A sip of coffee is quick and burns his lip before it's swallowed down. "I can't tell you. But that Michael is recovering from cancer, Dylan doesn't leave him unattended. I plan on popping by to see how Willis is doing tomorrow afternoon." Not that he expects a warm reception, or that he gives off the same vibe. "He has, " he confirms as much to Ashley. "Comes back laden with paradox and fucks off without telling anyone." The cup had been lowered down to waist height as he continues to speak to them. He doesn't remember Wharil much, if at all. Thinks he has a pretty face though. "We all knew this day was coming."

[Wharil Choc]

And at that Wharil's head cants to one side, the softest amused smile on his face. "What day is that?"

[Ashley McGowen]

Wharil's amusement draws a little bit from Ashley, too, reflexively. Given the Hermetic's general demeanor it's difficult to tell whether it's out of a sense of irony at the situation or mere schadenfreude. "I suppose we could try to hunt him down," she says, in a tone that implies that she believes that looking for Dylan is an option for her rather than a responsibility. He is unaffiliated, after all.

[Jacques-Marcel]

"Where everyone is sitting around discussing where the famous Dylan Willis has disappeared to. It wasn't a matter of if he would, but when he would." Jacques sounds relatively neutral about it, considering the depth of his prior relationship with the other man, but if he wasn't concerned on some level, he'd not be standing around in the Chantry talking to people he'd be better off without. He chuckles quietly at Ashley's suppose little addition, and steals another quick sip from his cup. "Really? Would you? Why?" He's curious to know why she would. It is, after all, an option. She seems even less inclined to help out others then he would, unless there's something to gain personally.

[Wharil Choc]

Wharil let out a silent chuckle that sounded only of air rushing out of his nostrils. It showed up on his face, a full on smile as he rested his head in his palm, eyes focusing on Jacques. Looking. Seeking. [Perc+Awareness, Emotions Specialty]

[Jacques-Marcel]

Man + Subterfuge, concealing emotions.

[Ashley McGowen]

"Because other people like a team player," is Ashley's response, and one she doesn't even seem to have to think about before she says it. She wiggles the toes of the foot tucked beneath her for a few seconds before pulling her leg up and folding it up in front of her. She can't watch both of them at once with how far away Jacques is standing, and so she misses the brief interaction that passes between the other two. "And I don't have any objection to being owed a favor." This, more to Jacques than Wharil. She knows the rocky history that has passed between Jacques and Dylan, and she knows that no matter how exasperated Jacques gets, he just can't seem to let things between them die.

[Wharil Choc]

And that has him chuckling audibly. Quiet but deep. He turns to Ashley, freeing his hands and leaning back in the seat. "See, I knew I could count on you. So...anything you need?"

[Jacques-Marcel]

Wharil's gaze is particular unnerving. Jacques doesn't know why. Being in the others presence made him feel a tad uncomfortable, something like he should he watching his back, and a little restlessness seems to invade the room with the other around. Magi were like this. Gave off a particular feel. He never got used to it. But having Wharil's dark eyes settled on him, while the other is smiling, made slender brows arch upward. Half the side of his mouth curled in a lightly wry smirk, but instead of saying anything, he lifted his cup and took a larger drink of coffee. Ashley makes a wonderful distraction from the interesting thoughts that had began to crop up. Most of which had to do with dangled limbs of differing colours and had no place in a conversation about an ex-lover. Jacques was all too easy to distract, and often quite willingly when things became too complicated. "He went to Saint Louis, when his girlfriend died. I'm not sure if it was to do with her or something else. I also don't know if it had anything to do with what may be happening now. But.. " it was a lead? a thought? something? ".. I don't think he's gone there again. Not without telling his father. He would have asked someone to check on Michael, and since he hasn't... he's either roped up somewhere or in a gutter." "You said there was something weird? Care to expand on that? I haven't seen Dylan in awhile. When I spoke to him he seemed in generally good spirits, which surprised the hell out of me." This was to Wharil, obviously.

[Ashley McGowen]

Wharil asks if there's anything she needs, and that draws a smile and a shrug from Ashley. She smiles so rarely, and coupled with her blue eyes it almost comes off as charming. Innocent. "I don't need anything right now, no." Jacques explains that Dylan went to St. Louis and Ash is quiet again, head swiveling as she looks between Jacques and Wharil, finally settling on Wharil when Jacques asks him what he meant by 'something weird.' She, too, seems interested in the response.

[Wharil Choc]

Wharil opened his mouth, preparing to respond, then stopped. His brows furrowed, but somehow he still managed to smile, making it look as if he enjoyed being confused. "Uhh...Zombies." Yes, that certainly was something weird. "So his girlfriend was from St. Louis?"

[Jacques-Marcel]

There's no other way for him to react then to laugh. "What? Zombies?" That quiet laugh resumed again, if only briefly. It was a nice laugh. Jacques is still smiling in that... disbelieving and bemused sort of manner. He had perfect teeth. "She could have been. I don't know." The smile dissolves into that more classic sarcasm that comes with Jacques demeanor. "Her and I never met, if you know what I mean." Jacques had been the piece on the side, and seems to take some sort of twisted pleasure in pointing this out.

[Ashley McGowen]

Ashley, too, laughs and repeats "Zombies?" at nearly the same time Jacques does, and, as talking in unison with anyone often does, it provokes a wider smile. It fades just as quickly as she fixes a rather intent look at Wharil across the few feet of space. "I didn't hear about that. The real thing? What part of the city were they in?"

[Wharil Choc]

And his quiet laughter matched Jacques' own. He doesn't insist, but he doesn't retract the statement either. Not audibly. Not silently. Yes. Zombies. Weird. "Yeah. Uhm...what's it called? Bronzeville? Yeah, Bronzeville. It was...wild." His brow furrows, obviously confused by Jacques' statement. "Uhm...not exactly. What do you mean?"

[Jacques-Marcel]

He's happy to let the statement go. Let Ashley deal with that. "I mean that I was the one Dylan came and fucked raw, while his girlfriend was waiting for him at home." Jacques is just guessing at the last part, just to make a point, and the rest had really just been for shock value. Wharil, being as perceptive as he is, and in tune with others emotions, may very well not pick up on what Jacques or feels or thinks, but may very well have came across his type before. Those that are certainly far from true representation in the world. Arrogance and crass works for him, prevents anything else be known. It's a classical distancing problem. Or, he could just be this damn crass and careless. It's equally likely.

[Ashley McGowen]

In Bronzeville. That seems to set Ash to thinking. She lifts a hand, letting her chin tilt forward onto the ball of her thumb while she processes through the events she's been aware of in the past few months: a group of possible Nephandi that they were never able to catch, some sort of sacrifice or ritual, a strangely thin spot in the Gauntlet where she encountered some umbrood, and now, apparently, zombies. All in Bronzeville. "I wonder if there's something in Bronzeville that attracts these sorts of events. Some sort of leyline or..." she muses quietly, amidst the talk of raw sex. Leave it to a Hermetic. She returns to silence then, letting Wharil respond to Jacques' statement as he will. She already knew about Jacques and Dylan, and it hasn't really ever been a concern of hers.

[Wharil Choc]

He winced visibly at that, and this time, when those dark eyes settled on Jacques, he wasn't smiling. Thankfully it didn't last very long. Happy to get back to the central topic, he turns to Ashley again. "So when do you think you can give us a location?"

[Jacques-Marcel]

He smirked a little more, satisfied, and went about drinking his coffee and took a back seat in the conversation, listening in.

[Ashley McGowen]

"Very soon. I could do it tonight, in fact," Ashley says, leaning back against the armrest of the loveseat and looking first at Wharil and then at Jacques. "It will make it easier if I have something of Dylan's, though. I can construct a sympathetic link that way. The more tied to him the better."

[Jacques-Marcel]

"Don't look at me. I don't have a thing..." He pushed off the door frame. "I can grab something from his house. I'm sure Michael won't have a problem with it."

[Wharil Choc]

Wharil raises his head, and nods once. His eyes turn to Jacques again, almost expectantly, and is about to say something...but he hesitates, letting him speak first. "There we go. We can arrange that. Jacques, you mind if I tag along when you go see...Micheal, was it?"

[Ashley McGowen]

Ashley nods to Jacques. Another quick glance from Wharil to Jacques, and then she says, "I could go along too, if you'd like. To see whether his father might know anything else about where he is. If there -has- been any kind of trouble - say, with the Technocracy - his father might have 'forgotten' a few things."

[Jacques-Marcel]

"I can give him a call first." Jacques is old fashioned that way, a bit of a contradiction to how he normally behaves. He can be quite charming and very respectful. It's about where he was raised, how he was, and the circles he worked in. He pulled his phone out from his pocket to check the time on it. Ashley adds in that she'd come along and the added benefit of having Magi come and speak with Michael. It's late. The man is recovering from cancer. He's also worried about his son. "I'll call him now."

[Wharil Choc]

And while Jacques is doing that, Wharil turns to the side of the couch, lifting his own messenger bag into his lap and rooting through it. "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about, Ashley. Have you read the papers lately?"

[Ashley McGowen]

Ashley leans forward a little, lowering the leg that was folded up and peering at whatever Wharil is pulling out of his bag. "I don't read them as often as I should. What happened?"

[Wharil Choc]

"Well, apparently some seventeen year old girl killed her boyfriend and best friend at a holloween party. Or, she witnessed their murder and can't remember. Or..." He just shakes his head instead of continuing, and eventually pulls out a yellow folder. The face of a redheaded teenager is on the cover. Its a smiling school photo, not a mugshot. "Her names Enid Geraint."

[Jacques-Marcel]

to Ashley McGowen, sunglasses, Wharil Choc [okay guys, our choices are a quick scene now with Dylan's father or on Saturday afternoon. You two can make a call, I'm available for both.]

[Wharil Choc]

to Ashley McGowen, Jacques-Marcel, sunglasses ((If quick means less than an hour and a half, I' down for it.))

[Ashley McGowen]

Ashley is already smiling when Wharil explains the events that were in the paper, and begins to slowly shake her head when he holds up the photo and then says the girl's name. "I've already met her and started to explain to her what's going on. She woke up when she killed the two of them, but it was done magically. I doubt she'll be convicted." She looks again at the photograph. "I can introduce her to you. She's been calling me a lot for explanations and advice."

[Ashley McGowen]

to Jacques-Marcel, sunglasses, Wharil Choc ((I can do it tonight.))

[sunglasses]

to Ashley McGowen, Wharil Choc [Quick definitely means less than an hour and a half, I took my nighttime stuff about half an hour ago. *L*]

[Jacques-Marcel]

to Ashley McGowen, sunglasses, Wharil Choc [Let's do that then.]

[Wharil Choc]

Wharil's eyebrows hop up high on his brows, and he gives Ashley a bit of a smirk. "Well...alright then." Wharil puts his folder of pictures back without showing the full thing to Ashley. "And you're sure she did it? Any idea how?"

[Jacques-Marcel]

Jacques gets off the phone in short order. He glances between the two of them, and when there's a break in the conversation, remarks, "We can head over there now. Be we should make it quick." "I'll rinse this out, while you decide what you're doing. I have room for only one in my car." With that, he turned out of the room and when to clean off his cup in the kitchen and put it away again.

[Ashley McGowen]

"She said that she was blinded by anger. From what she described it sounded like she used the Ars Fati in some way - manipulated the threads of Fate," Ashley says, feeling the need to clarify. So many other Traditions look at her askance when she uses the Latin. Jacques returns then, and Ash turns to her discarded shoes, putting her feet back into them with a grimace and taking her messenger bag in hand as she rises to her feet. "I suppose you could follow behind?" she says, with a glance to Wharil.

[Wharil Choc]

He looks immediately confused at first, but then nods slowly as she explains. Jacques addresses them, and Ashley suggests Wharil follow behind. "Sounds good to me. We'll talk more about this later, yeah?" He stands, preparing himself for the trip.

[Jacques-Marcel]

When everyone is ready, and all is said and done, Jacques leads the way to Michael Willis house in his BMW roadster, obeying road rules and, surprisingly, not driving like a maniac.

[Wharil Choc]

((We changing rooms or staying here?))

[Ashley McGowen]

"I'll make sure I get in touch with you about her." It's fortunate for Ashley that Jacques doesn't drive like a maniac - she seems a bit high strung in cars. Understandable, perhaps. She takes the passenger seat and is quiet for most of the drive.

[sunglasses]

[To Cabrini Green!]

[Jacques-Marcel]

Jacques comes to park his car as close to the Willis residence as he possibly can before getting out and walking around to get Ashleys door, if she hadn't already gotten out. The car is locked, alarmed, and the keys stowed away in his jean pocket with his keys. He waits for Wharil on the sidewalk before beginning up to knock on the door.

[Ashley McGowen]

Knowing Jacques' southern mannerisms, Ashley does indeed wait for him to open the door. She's not the type of woman to be annoyed by chivalry, viewing it as generally harmless. After he opens the door she gets up, casting a look over the house and turning to watch the road for Wharil.

[Michael Willis]

Dylan's father doesn't live in a particularly nice section of town. It isn't the slums, certainly, but it's in a section of the Near North Side not far from Armour Square, where bright lights shine and loud music can be heard at all hours of the night; the apartment itself, as Michael told the other Consor over the phone, is in a three-story building on West 30th Street, not far from the Eagle's Nest where Jacques once had to pick up the man's son from a night of binge drinking. He has to park the Roadster in the parking lot of a bakery adjacent to the tall building. There is a small plate of lit-up door bells next to a locked iron gate, but no intercom between the front door and the apartment. Nearly two minutes pass after Jacques rings the one marked 312, and then Dylan's 54-year-old father makes his appearance downstairs. He's tall, like his son, but his eyes are blue instead of brown; he's gained weight since the last time Jacques saw him, looks healthy rather than devastatingly sick. It would appear as though he was preparing for sleep when the phone call came to the apartment. He's wearing slippers, jeans and a white t-shirt, and holds the keys to the apartment in his hand. "Hi," he says, without mirth in his tone, and leads the trio upstairs to the third floor. As they go, he introduces himself: "Mike Willis. I don't think I've met either of you yet." The apartment is the fourth door on the right side of a hallway that eventually kinks into an L shape. Once inside there is a hallway leading into the apartment, two doors on either side, the bathroom and the master bedroom on the right side both open while the closet and the smaller of the two bedroom's doors on the left side remain closed. The kitchen, dining area and living room are all mushed together into one open space, and Michael guides them into the kitchen area. When he speaks next, it sounds as though he is continuing a conversation he and Jacques had started earlier, though he intermittently glances between Ashley and Wharil to include them in the conversation. "I called his old Chantry," he says. "They say they haven't seen him since he was there this summer and that he's not welcome back. I'm about halfway through a list of hospitals... I went down to the county morgue yesterday evening to ID a body, but it wasn't him." A beat, and then, "What do you need, a shirt or something?"

[Wharil Choc]

Wharil isn't too far off. And his compact just manages to find a safe spot small enough to fit in. He climbs out and crosses the street, swinging his messenger bag behind him as he approaches the two amiably. Wharil follows behind with a polite level of quiet, giving the Elder Willis a warm smile as a greeting. Oddly, he doesn't offer his name. "That the one in St. Louis?" He asks curiously, and leans up against a counter somewhere.

[Jacques-Marcel]

"Sorry for calling this late," is how Jacques replied to the others greeting. He meant it, too. He had followed up to the apartment and walked in with the others, letting them do their own introductions on the way. He wasn't going to speak for them. Mixed feelings arise when it comes to identifying bodies. He's glad it's not Dylan's, but that doesn't mean the next one won't be. Part of him wants to offer to help on Michael's behalf. The other doesn't want to get any further involved. He was just a bit on the side, he keeps telling himself. "A shirt, sure.." He gives a glance to Ashley, raising his brows, then looks back to Michael. "Or something more personable if there is anything." Wharil gets a nod of confirmation.

[Ashley McGowen]

Despite Ashley's general attitude toward Sleepers, she introduces herself politely to Michael when he leads them up to the apartment. Some habits are more deeply ingrained even than the attitudes she's come to adopt in the past few years. It's all well and good, since she needs something from Michael anyway. She's quiet as he talks about the Chantry, furrowing her brow. It's good - at least they don't have to disguise the reason for their visit. All too often their type keep what they do a secret, even from their own families. "A shirt would be fine. It would be best if we could get something that's -from- his body, like hair or bodily fluids. Failing that, though, an item of clothing or jewelry that he wore often will work fine."

[Michael Willis]

Jacques nods to confirm that the Chantry in question was the one in St. Louis, and Michael looks between the younger man and the Hermetic before nodding himself and starting towards the hallway. "Let me see what I can dig up," he calls over his shoulder. "I'm afraid I don't have any of his hair just laying around."

[Jacques-Marcel]

"Bodily fluids?" Jacques says in a lower voice at Ashley, almost grinning at her from where he was standing with a hand in his pocket. "Really? Do you have some of those just lying around at home Ashley?" This is, of course, when Michael leaves the room.

[Wharil Choc]

Wharil Chuckles at that, quiet but bright and full in face. Following up with a 'Seriously?' look to Ashley.

[Ashley McGowen]

Ashley just smiles, utterly without shame or embarrassment. "You never know what people will keep around, so it's always better to ask. Once in a while there's an old bloodstain on a shirt or on the carpet or something."

[Michael Willis]

[I'm fading pretty hard, but it doesn't look like we're at a wrap point. You guys want to pause and finish up on Saturday, or is there a second alternative that I'm not thinking of?]

[Jacques-Marcel]

"More like a cock sock," Jacques mumbles, clearing his throat in his attempt of not to actually laugh at this point. His gaze had swept to Wharil the moment he had said it, clearly bemused at Ashley's expense.