Cruach has had her sights set on making an approach to the prominent villain groups of Denver for a while. Doing so is a necessary step to credibly establish herself in the new location, to start getting more specific, well paying jobs. There's an inherent danger to it, as per usual for any cape business, but as options go The Court seems like an excellent starting point.

She does her research, finding La Corte Regale with relative ease. She's suspicious, it all seems too easy, and so she holds off on establishing contact. She spends a few days doing more research, and investigating the place itself. Eventually satisfied that it's as safe as is claimed, at least as far as she can detect, she waits a few more days to put even greater distance between her poking and an actual visit. She's pretty sure she wasn't detected, but on the off chance she was, her caution may help. Finally, she makes the call, maintaining a professional demeanor as she sets up a meeting with Sovereign for a Weekend morning.

When the day comes, she arrives ten minutes before the scheduled meeting time, entering the back door as subtly as she can without unduly surprising the staff. Her costume is well put together and professional, that combined with her tall stature and the grace and ease with which she moves makes for a rather intimidating display. She leans into the impression of cool confidence and professionalism as she approaches the room where the meeting is to be held. As she enters, it's might be possible to discern that she's scanning the room with an eye for detail. Internally, she's noting exits, door and window placement, furniture, decorations, people, and more. By the time she's more fully entered the room, she's worked out at least one rough plan for escape.

Inside the room, a table is set for two. The seats are well made, with comfortable-looking cushions and carved wooden frames inlaid with gold. Both seats are positioned in a way that neither has the door to their back.

From behind, footsteps can be heard before they come to a stop about ten feet away.

“Welcome to La Corte Regale. I see you have found the Venetian Room. Please feel free to take a seat until the host arrives. If you would like to join us for lunch, but your mask does not allow you to eat, we have a selection of masquerade masks that you may choose from- all unused -as well as a private room to change masks. If you would rather not, we may prepare a dish to go, of your choice,” a young lady in a maitre’d tuxedo states in a well-practiced manner.

Cruach turns smoothly to the lady in the maitre'd tuxedo, nodding subtly after the explanation. The distance of the adress doesn't seem to bother her, and depending on height, she may tower over the lady, though if she does it's not something she uses to intimidate. She is respectful but concise, and as she speaks her voice projects well despite its apparently low volume, bearing a hint of some unidentifiable accent.

"Thank you. I hope I'm not too early. My mask allows me to eat, but it's nice to know you have those services. Would you mind if I take a look at the menu while I wait?"

Regardless of response, she enters the room. She spends a minute or two poking around looking for anything off; loose floorboards, hidden wall compartments, the smell of machine oil, explosive residue, blood or other bodily fluids, or anything else that wouldn't normally be found in a restaurant. No matter what she finds, she does eventually take a seat and wait.

"You are never too early at La Corte Regale. Please peruse the menu on the table at your own pleasure. All items on the menu have already been covered by your host, so do not hesitate to enjoy whatever dish catches your eye. I will inform the wait staff to bring bread and water," the shorter blonde says before turning and leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

To a particularly well trained eye, or perhaps an eye with the right kind of power, one might notice that there is a hidden exit to the room. It seems to be a sliding wall section opposite the door, right next to one of the decorative light fixtures adorning the walls. There is, otherwise, nothing of note in the area.

A few minutes later, a man in his twenties in a waiter's uniform enters the room with fresh bread and a glass of water. He then steps back and stands with his hands clasped behind his back next to the door.

"Thank you, that is most generous." She notes the hidden door, and apparently nothing else. There's still the possibility of a hit squad coming through it, but it seems more likely that it's in case a meeting goes bad. She still remains vigilant and on edge, but feels a bit better about this meeting being in good faith. As the waiter arrives with the bread and water, she nods and thanks him quietly.

She peruses the menu casually, attention not wholly dedicated to it as she remains alert, the fact that the waiter remains drawing no small part of it, though this shouldn't be outwardly visible. Apparently with time to spare, she does her best to find something that will strike a nice middle ground, she wants to see what the establishment has to offer, not to mention that free food is always a bonus, but at the same time if this meeting is to be productive she can't look as though she's taking undue advantage.

She gives a couple of quick glances to the bread and water, taking in all she can with her senses to determine if there's anything off about them. Regardless of if there is or not, she'll wait to eat until Sovereign arrives.

About a dozen seconds before the meeting time, a keen ear could pick up footsteps in the hall outside the door. Exactly five seconds before the meeting time, the waiter finally moves, opening the door. A few seconds later, a man walks in, dressed in a fine vintage suit and top hat, with a vaguely avian mask made of what appears to be solid gold. In his right hand is a staff topped in golden ornamentation that he is using almost like a long cane or walking stick.

He strides into the room with the same confidence as a king entering his own throne room. "Cruach, if I am not wrong? Forgive me if I'm late, there was a slight issue to address with one of my more visible operations." His words are smooth and seem to be tinged with a charisma borne of age, experience, and professional training. He waits for the waiter to pull out his seat before sitting, then hands his staff to the man, who leans it against the back of the chair.

"I am Sovereign, lord of the Court. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

And pick up the footsteps she does indeed. She manages to time the turning of her head just right, such that she's looking at him as he enters, but there was no sudden movement on her part. Her head tilts slightly as she takes in the entirety of his outfit and demeanor, the motion made all the more bird-like by her own avian mask. Her gaze follows him smoothly as he takes his seat, and he would likely get the impression that he has her undivided attention. She takes in everything she can before social convention dictates she needs to talk; the way he walks; the way fabric shifts across his costume; the smell of the whole ensemble, and the person within; his breathing; as he gets close enough, his heartbeat. She's looking for oddities, power related or not, as well as nervousness or ticks that could potentially give warning of foul play.

She nods as she's addressed. "No need for forgiveness, I was the one who arrived early, after all. If anything, I should be apologizing for using the time and resources of yourself and this fine establishment." Her voice bears the same unidentifiable accent and soft quality, while still projecting well. There's professionalism there, and a steadiness that speaks to a measure of confidence, though it wouldn't likely be immediately identifiable as such. The way she sits, her posture, positioning, all of it hints towards a sort of coiled readiness. Muted as it is by the concealment of her rather baggy costume, it would still be relatively apparent that she's seen her fair share of combat, and while not totally on edge, certainly isn't relaxed. "Likewise, a pleasure. I hope your issue was resolved well." The last statement is nearly a question, but not quite.

Much can be gathered from his entrance. The most blaring detail is that of his own ego. He seems utterly at ease, completely calm despite not having met with or spoken to the mercenary cape before this point. The actions of the waiter are barely noticed- more so expected. The outfit is noticeably tailored to fit his physique, which seems to be that of a fit, somewhat well-built middle-aged man. A closer look at his suit reveals the chain of a golden pocket watch coming from a low pocket on his suit and disappearing between two of it's buttons, as well as a golden watch on his left wrist. His hands are gloved, the black leather seemingly new. A faint whiff of blood and a stronger scent of gun smoke can be picked up if one has good senses.

Sovereign watches the cape closely as she speaks, making no moves to check the menu or offer a handshake. Though his eyes are hidden behind the lenses of his mask, it isn't hard to determine that he is both studying and measuring her. As he hears the question in her words, he lets out a good-natured chuckle.

"Please, think nothing of it," he says with a hint of amusement. "I always have time to meet with an experienced and respected parahuman such as yourself, and La Corte Regale can more than afford the early arrival of an important guest." He clasps his hands in front of him like an old Bond villain. "As for the issue, well, I'm sure you've seen how those from the underside of society can behave. I simply had to remind a few of my neighbors that such depravity is looked down upon in the Court's territory. At risk of sounding cliché, we represent a better class of criminal."

Her sense are indeed quite good, and she notes the scents, putting two and two together with what he's said. It's an interesting detail, and indicative of the sort of operation her runs and person he is, though hopefully not immediately relevant to what she's here for.

She too makes no move for a handshake, and it would likewise be clear to him that she's studying him in turn. Her menu sits on the table in front of her; she's spent enough time going over it to know what she wants already, and doesn't want to disrespect the cape across form her by seeming distracted.

"My thanks for the hospitality." She pauses, seemingly holding back a comment, before responding to the rest of his statement with a nod. "I'm glad. Too often such things are left to fester, and that only ends badly for everyone. A level of class and professionalism needs to be maintained." She leans forward slightly, though she doesn't imitate his hand positioning. "That maintenance takes effort, resources, time which could be better spent elsewhere." She reaches a hand into a fold of her costume, the movement slow and deliberate as to not seem threatening, and withdraws a folder, which she slides across the table. "A gesture of good faith. I'm invested in a working relationship, in seeing The Court continue to occupy the space it does, as opposed to that space being filled with monsters."

Should he open the folder, he would find a rather professionally done dossier on a small time gang starting operations at the fringes of Court territory, engaged in much of what he would likely deem abhorrent, and certainly not connected to the Court.

Sovereign's head tilts in curiosity as the other cape slides the folder across the table. He lets her finish speaking before reaching out and pulling the folder to his side of the table. Trusting his guest, he flips it open and scans over the documents within.

"Information of this type is a generous gift. Both the detail and presentation speak strongly to your favor." A few moments pass as he sits in silent contemplation. "Perhaps we should discuss the specifics of such a working relationship over our meal." As if on queue, the silent waiter from earlier returns, this time with a notepad and pencil.

The head of the Court gestures to Cruach. "You are a guest of Sovereign today, order anything you desire without worry for cost."

"Thank you." She nods, and her posture relaxes slightly. "Perhaps we should." She turns to adress the waiter, and in a polite fashion orders one of the specials of the day, not the most expensive, but roughly middling in terms of price. She waits for Sovereign to place his order before speaking again. "I'm glad you work to keep this place as it is, such a thing is invaluable."

"Excellent choice," Sovereign states. He glances at the waiter, quickly placing an order for a veal dish, his menu still unopen on the table. He gives the man a subtle nod of thanks before turning back to Cruach.

"The PRT have their headquarters for those of a heroic inclination to meet. We of the underside of the city had none, so I chose to carry the burden of enforcing a neutral meeting location. I am sure that had I not, some other entity would have declared a similar location at some point."

"Now, your reputation being what it is, I would assume you understand the purpose of the Court, and what it offers to those in good standing. If you so wish, I can provide details on anything you require while we wait for our food."

"True enough, though the fact that you've chosen to do so speaks well to the integrity of your organization." Her posture gives little away, though the slight turn of her head would indicate that she is paying attention to the waiter at least in some capacity as he leaves.

"Thank you." She pauses, as though thinking on what question to ask, while in fact casting her senses around the room and as far beyond as she can get, looking for anything amiss. "To start off, at least, I'd like to know what sort of work you need the most. Are you more interesting in holding what you already have, or expanding?"

To even her senses, nothing is amiss in the surroundings. For all intents and purposes, this still seems to be a peaceful meeting between potential business partners.

Sovereign gives a single nod to the question. “Contrary to my previous position, I have decided that it is time for the Court to expand both in territory and manpower. As a professional curtesy, I will tell you that our parahuman membership has grown over the past two weeks, and is projected to continue growing at a steady pace.”

He brings hand up to the side of his head, pressing a button with a small click. Something in the mask unlatches, allowing him to remove the lower half. What is revealed is polite smile with well-trimmed facial hair- black with some grey speckled about.

“What I am looking for is information on any surrounding gangs, as well as information on the staff of the local police and sheriff’s offices.”

Cruach mirrors the single nod. "Much appreciated. I'm glad I contacted you when I did. Is there anything in particular that spurred on this change in policy?" There's professional interest in her tone, and not much else.

She mirrors this action as well, though the intricacies are slightly different. She cups the bottom half of her mask, and a finger extends to a point along the jawline, pressing upwards on a hidden lever of some sort. There's a very faint mechanical click, and the bottom half of the mask drops free. She lowers it to her side and clips it to a point on her belt. Her features seem sharp, and very symmetrical. Her skin is completely clear of blemishes or marks. Her mouth is set in a studiously neutral position. As she moves and speaks, it would become apparent that there's something subtly off. Her movements are too precise, and the way the skin moves suggests muscle where there shouldn't be any. Her teeth are just a little too pointed. The pace of her breathing, so faint as to barely be noticeable unless serious attention is being paid, is slower than it should be, and far too regular. When she speaks, it seems as though she doesn't have to pause for breath.

"Information is something I can certainly do. What are the priorities there, is there a particular group you'd like me to focus on more heavily, a particular subset of information you're more interested in?" It's relatively apparent that she's recalling what she already knows and coming up with some rough ideas as she talks.

Even with his eyes hidden behind the lenses of his mask, one could almost feel Sovereign studying the newly revealed portion of Cruach’s face. He doesn’t focus long on it, however, nor does he comment.

“The information you have already provided is valuable. I have an interest in any similar information you could provide me regarding the area between La Corte Regale and the South Platte river. Specifically from the location of this gang,” he gestures to the folder, “down to the I70/I25 intersection.”

Sovereign pauses to take a sip from his glass of water. “That region, with regards to gangs or capes of interest, is of primary concern at this time.”

She pauses briefly, conjuring a mental map of the area as he describes it. The edges of her mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly before returning it returns to its previous position, one could gather that would be something close to a smile.

"That's more than doable. Gangs and capes shouldn't be too much of an issue, barring a push from another larger group. The Police may be trickier, though I'll get you what I can without lighting a powder keg in your backyard." She pauses again, evaluating internally, and lets out a small sigh. "Information like what I provided is easily repeatable, though I will warn you I'm not a social Thinker, so don't expect me to pull personal details or blackmail material out of nowhere." There's a hint of emphasis on the word 'social', such that someone could maybe guess that she may be some other sort of thinker.