Intrigue and Weakness

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Where: Gordon's Penthouse

When: June 15, 2012

What: Rylie goes to visit a sick friend, who makes some telling observations while she's there.

Gunshots are so yesterday.

Well, almost. Close enough to count. The privilege of money, is that when you don't want the fuss of the hospital, and can hire nurses, well, you can convalesce at home. Home in this instance for one Gordon Crain is a penthouse in some buildings in downtown Las Vegas that offers uninhibited views of the city, tasteful furniture that likely was not picked out by himself, and a bottle of painkillers to keep him company when there was no one else. The assistant had already been shuffled off to some other department and individual since she'd proven incapable of handling herself in stressful situations.

The teller had already had a job offer to replace her, since clearly, she could.

It's a little early to be out of work, but only by an hour or so. Rylie's still dressed for work, which includes a sharp pencil skirt and a pair of heels with the trademark red sole under black leather. She has a vest to match, but no jacket over a silk button up shirt. Nothing too different from what she normally wears, but maybe a little extra classy today. Subconsciously.

She was let up by someone who recognized her from last time, but she pauses at the door to knock, waiting patiently until she's given the okay to enter. Hanging from between two fingers is a rather expensive and rare bottle of wine, but something she's willing to part with for the right occasion, apparently.

There is nothing glamorous like finely tailored suits to meet Rylie at the door after the elevator has dropped her off into the lobby of that very top floor.

It's A blue and white sling, silk navy Pajama bottoms and a lack of a shirt on Gordon's body as he answers after looking through the peephole so discreetly engineered into the doors.

Fingers rest over the edge of the sling, white gauze taped into place on his shoulder and eyes blitzed enough that painkillers are still fully in effect. "Rylie" He rolls the name off his tongue before slipping to the side to let her in. "I'm afraid I already have a nurse"

"Well, that's good. Because I can't stand needles," Rylie says with a crooked smile. She steps in, though, when he moves aside, and moves to a nearby table to softly set the bottle down. "I heard you had a rough night the other day," she says, her hand dropping away from the wine as she turns back to look his way, "I thought you might need some company that wasn't… clinical."

A hip leans against the table, and she actually takes a moment to look him over, sling and all. "I was going to drop by the hospital yesterday, but I thought that might be a little too soon for a decent visit."

"I was transferred out of the hospital within an hour of getting there. Harbringers of filth and staph infections, I prefer to lick my wounds in more private facilities then at home. The privilege of money" The door closed, he's making his way back to the couch and while he might actually have at any other time, made a pass at her, or attempted to woo her some more, today and tonight, is not the time. Instead, there's the kiss to her cheek and a gesture to join him on the couch.

"I hear the LVMPD have been lauding the singing skills of myself and my employee's"

Rylie smiles at the kiss and comes to join him on the couch, hands smoothing out her skirt as she settles in. "Have they? They missed that part on the news. It was all derring do and criminal plotting. Not one mention of a musical number." Which is a shame, really.

"It has been a nightmare at the office over it. Luckily, it's the weekend. They have a couple days to forget all about it, yeah? Maybe there'll even be a lull before the next deluge."

"My days as a cabaret singer is still unfounded then, but to the NYPD" The bottle of wine is looked at, examined then placed back on the coffee table. "You bring me a very beautiful vintage, that makes me wonder what part of your salary you sacrificed to do so. How is that boy of yours. The one that I so bravely took a bullet for so that he could do his derring do. Not too much damage to his head I hope"

"Not any recent salary. I've been keeping it for a rainy day. I figure you could use it more than me, though. I'm more of a champagne girl." Which he already knows. But that's okay.

At the question about Zan, Rylie's smile tilts again, "He'll be okay. Roughed up some, but it's sort of par for the course lately." She chuckles a little, but it's just a quick sound before she turns more in his direction, "But honestly. Are you okay? Is there anything— I mean, I know you have everything you need at your beck and call, but you know."

"So it would seem" The par for the course being roughed up. He reaches over with his hand though, settling it on top of hers and squeezing it. "He tends to find himself in such a predicament often. From what I have heard. How he is still alive, I have yet to discern and not for lack of his father trying. But you know that, given that you work for him, and I saw how he was the other time we met. So young"

Rylie's other hand moves over to cover his, almost like she hadn't thought much about it. "Audacity, from what I can tell," is her only answer as far as Zan's survival rating. "His father should be aware of that trait more than anyone." She'll slide right by the subject of Zan and Gordon's first meeting. A girl likes a guy getting jealous, but she had asked for cool!

"But you found yourself in such a predicament too. It should be I who am visiting you and asking what I can do for you. Certainly not every day that one gets kidnapped" There's a turn down of his mouth at the though, even as GOrdon shifts to make himself more comfortable on the couch.

That particular mention makes Rylie sit back, fingers moving to fiddle with her french cuffs. Unnecessarily. "God, that was weeks ago," she says, dismissively. Attempting to be dismissive, anyway. "You were shot much more recently," she adds with a nervous chuckle.

There's a little pause, though, before she looks back over at him. "How— I mean, it wasn't in the press, either. How did you… find out?" It is, perhaps, a little naive to think the papers are the only way to hear about such things.

"Because I like to keep tabs on individuals in my…social circle, of interest to me. I know about your side job, the one that you do for fun that requires you to set up in illegal… situations. That and the mayor asked for my assistance in getting his son out of a predicament that night, which seems to have backfired and culminated in some unsavory types having held the lot of you. My security head has been… dealt with, regarding this gross lapse in his judgement that night" Gordon reaches over, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

"You have a weakness for me. For the Misters Caldecott's as well"

Rylie seems to accept that explanation. Nicholas was a babysitter of some kind, after all. She nods once as she takes it in, but her demeanor is hardly the upbeat one she usually carries. That kidnapping thing, it brings a girl down.

Her gaze lifts back to him when he touches her hair, lingering there as if to prove his point just before he makes it. But when he does, she lets out a disbelieving laugh on an exhaled breath before she gives him a more wry look. "And he's modest, too," is what she says first, but after another brief, amused-but-nervous sound, she shakes her head a little. "I'm not sure I— agree. Or follow."

"It's my best trait" Gordon grins, dropping his palm back down. "You don't need to follow, nor to even agree. I see what I see, and what I see is the truth. The both of them. myself. Just a little weakness. But small things, like those, are the start of bigger things. Be careful with such" He tuts his tongue, looking to the bottle of wine before wriggling forward then eventually upright.

The bottle is caugh tup in his good hand and he starts to plod towards the kitchen. "You intrigue me and not just because I want to know why the Mayor is so protective of you that he begs me to leave you be, but because, you still agree to go out for an evening with me, despite the other Caldecott bristling like a jealous lion cub at your elbow" He pauses, looks over his shoulder. "Which I loved, about as much as the color of your eyes tonight"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, and assume you just like seeing boyfriends see you as a threat," Rylie says, still seated, but watching him cross through the penthouse. She's cautious, but her amused smile covers it like a veil. Muting, but not able to completely hide it there under the surface.

"He begged you to leave me be?" And instead of clearing up those mysteries, she decides to muses on that tidbit for the moment. "Ironic, coming from a man so good at politics. Asking for me to be left alone is the best way to get all the spotlights pointed in my direction." By her tone, she might be suggesting that was the Mayor's intent, but never quite gets around to voicing that thought.

"I derive a certain sense of satisfaction. I have an huge ego after all. It must be fed regularly, or it can become very vicious" The wine is put away somewhere out of sight and he shuffles back to the main area where he left Rylie. "On his knee's, palms together, tears streaming"

When he comes back into the room, Rylie's stood up, even if she is leaning against the arm of the couch. "Oh, I'm sure it was a sight you'll treasure forever, a spectacle like that," she says, looking over at him with a smirk. "Our families are close," she does eventually offer, "my father insisted he look out for me. I suppose that includes when handsome, older men turn their heads in my direction."

If such a spectacle had even occured. In reality, it was more passing commentary.

"Could this handsome older man turn your direction towards my bed and have you spend the night. Nothing.. risque. Just your company, some movies, pass me my medication when I need it and coo me to sleep like the dove that you are?"

"Isn't that what your nurse is for?" Rylie can't help a smile, though. Charm and flattery. She steps over, her hand resting against the non-wounded side of his chest as she lifts up to somewhat belatedly return the kiss to his cheek. "And I can send her in on my way out." Her farewell consists of a quick wink his direction when she steps back, and the flash of a smile when she turns toward the door.

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