2021-12-16 A Photographic Memory

A Photographic Memory

Participants: Jean-Jacques Sima Vandred

Storyteller: Lascaux

Location: West Los Angeles

Date and Time: Dec 16, 2021, just past dusk.

Summary: Jean-Jacques, Sima, and Vandred go on an errand for a friend, retrieving some compromising evidence.

Andi Cohen's studio is in a nice part of West Los Angeles. The address wasn't difficult to find, provided by Lascaux: it's right on the guy's website, after all. The studio building itself is a converted warehouse, like many art studios citywide; two stories, square, made of brick. Nine studios within, as well as a wood shop, kitchen, bathroom, and lounge. The weather this evening is beautiful, and the streets around the warehouse are bustling with people walking to and fro. There are even still some lights on in the studio space.

"Well, this looks like the place." JJ says, glancing over at Sima and Vandred. "Looks like one of those communal jobs. Can probably find out which loft is his on the mailbox." And that's what JJ is looking for, those things are almost always either right outside the door or just inside it.

+LOSE/+BURN> Vandred burns 1 Blood.

       As ever, Sima has that smile on dark lips as she stands and listens to JJ's words, her lightless lenses blocking the view of her eyes from the average passerby. Her attire is less attention grabbing than usual, but no less appealing to those that find interest in creatures such as she. Honestly, she looks a bit like a famous model that's trying to get about town without dealing with too many people trying to approach her. Where usually she is slashed through with bold and exotic crimson fabrics, this time the hue is a deep forest green with golden embroidery. It is more on the side of Bohemian than 'fusion', a classy affair that shows off just enough of her without giving away the plot.
       When JJ mentions the mailbox, there's a shallow nod of her head, "Look at you, darling ... how very clever," She did mention she liked clever people when last they actually spoke, all those nights ago. Her footfalls are quiet in her approach, coming to a halt somewhere just behind JJ, the scent of her perfume, just present enough to tease at the senses, vague enough to leave one asking for more.
       "Any luck?" She speaks as he goes searching.

Normally Vandred is usually out and about in the biggest ugliest trenchcoats and coveralls you can find -- unless he has to actually do things. Then they just all.. Get in the way. So Vandred disrobes while they're all waiting; leaving himself just standing there in a loincloth, his clothing piled up and planted behind a garbage can, where it looks like it fits in perfectly. Once that's done, there's a moment in the dark where the Blood is sent pumping through his frame, and his flesh mottles with colouration before blending in perfectly with his environment, as if he had donned a stealth suit.

       There's a chuff of breath, before he inhales sharply before letting it out as a hissing grunt. "Hopefully it's one of the rooms on the second floor, it'd be shitty to have to figure out the ground floor nonsense."

There's no mailbox outside the front door of the studio building - but the door itself? Unlocked. Immediately inside the bright space there's a directory listing the names and numbers of the artists who rent studio spaces here. There's a set of stairs, as well as an elevator immediately visible, and beyond that, the corridor which is lined on either side with the first four studios on the ground floor. To the left? A little reception desk. With a security guard.

As the door opens, he glances up from his phone. He's a Black guy, about forty years old, in one of those rent-a-cop uniforms. Certainly muscular, but a bit flabby as well. The phone stays out, but he looks at the entourage coming in. "Can I help y'all?" He wonders; his tone is neither friendly nor unfriendly, just...slightly bored.

JJ turns and lets his signature soft smile bleed across his lips as he addresses the security guard. "Yes sir, atleast I hope you can. I'm looking for Andi Cohen, can you tell me if he's in or not?" The older cajun man says with a pleasant tone as he makes his way over towards the reception desk, stopping just on the other side of the desk, close enough he could lay his hands on it if he wished.

       It seems that Sima is content to play the supporting role this evening, as JJ takes point. After all, this is a fine opportunitey for her to watch him work, isn't it? Her quiet judgment can practically be felt boring into the back of his head, of course, but she says nothing as he speaks to the guard. She does approach the desk, of course, her hip resting upon it as she turns her attentions toward the guard, issuing him a slow smile that warms her expression to downright inviting.
       "Such a talented man," She speaks after JJ has mentioned the man's name, "I can't help but wonder what magic he could work, if I could be his muse." She says this more to JJ than to the guard, as though it were simply something the man was overhearing.

Vandred just.. lurks outside. So rather than the poor guard being forced to probably get his mind wiped or his neck broken, instead there's just a nearly invisible gargoyle - just lurking outside. Waiting. Staring. Bobbing its head idly to the earbud thumping away in his left earlobe.

The security guard sighs, and sits back. He points at the wall, where the directory says "Andi Cohen Photo LLC, 209." Then he reaches down under the lip of the desk he's sat at, and procures a clipboard. "Names and IDs, folks. All after-hours guests got to sign in."

No answer to whether the photographer is in his studio or not. In fact, there's a key-card swipe for the elevator, and one by the front door. Likely if there's not a guard here, the artists have some kind of card they swipe to get in, allowing them to come and go as they please.

"I hope Mississippi is good enough, I've just moved to the area and haven't had a chance to get it switched over." JJ says with a grin, pulling his wallet out of his blazer's inner breast pocket and pulling out a completely legit ID issued by the grand ol state of Mississippi, not expired or anything. While he does so, he's gonna make a quick glance around the room their in's ceiling, looking for any obvious security cameras. "Jean-Jacques Thibideaux." He offers, handing it over to the guard after his quick glance around and looking for where he's supposed to sign in at. HIs signature looks more like chicken scratch then anything else, or maybe a doctor's.

+ROLL/+DICE> Vandred: Perception + Alertness vs. 6 -> 4 successes. (9 9 8 6 4) +ROLL/+DICE> Sima: Appearance + Empathy vs. 4 -> 3 successes. (9 5 4 4 3 3 2 1)

       When the mention of ID is made, Sima hisses a breath in through clenched teeth and casually leans over the counter toward the guard. "Do I have to?" She questions of him, the tone of her voice pleading, yet eerie in equal measure as she begins. "I'd really like to keep this low key, darling ... you know how people can be." She continues, though she doesn't mention what people, or why it should be a concern.
       Such is the way of Sima.
       There is a slow creep of wanting that will always come with her presence, a longing that cannot be placed, the essence of what she would describe only as 'dor' were she to be asked. It feels like nostalgia, it tastes like the promise of better times, all but forgotten in the dreary, daily grind of a job such as this -- it is colour in the inky pitch of reality, the memory of a first kiss, and the lament that comes with knowing you can never have it again. Her smile grows again, "Besides, wouldn't you rather leave?" One of her hands moves, producing a pressed, matte crimson card with golden lettering on it, and a few crisp hundred dollar bills, pinching the whole lot between her thumb and index finger before placing it onto the counter and pushing it forward.
       "I could owe you a favour." Her brows lift. "You could call it a night."

His head continues it's idle bobbing, until Vandred notices there's hand motions going on -- forcing him to squint as he attempts to make out what's going on. He eyeballs the hand, then the sign the guard points to, which seems to be enough for the Gargoyle. As casually as a Gargoyle can, he steps back twice until he's properly in the gloom, and then there's two steps and a hop and he's airborne, flapping hard twice as his form simply defies gravity through 'I have wings, thus I can fly' logic.

The flight isn't long, and as soon as he has enough height, he glides - wings spread out as his form takes on an inky night-sky pitch - until he then lands on the building, a soft hop removing momentum as he goes still until his form blends back in with the environment, and then he makes his way over to the edge, fingers digging in as he casually leans himself down and over to peek in through a window to room 209's inside.

The guard squints at JJ's ID, and almost starts to say something to JJ about the scrawl of his handwriting being totally illegible, but when Sima holds out that card and the money, he's immediately captured by the supernatural aura radiating from her. An aura of deep persuasiveness beyond what any mere mortal can manage. "Yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, go on in." He doesn't even ask for her name, and the money she offered him just stays sitting on the counter.

Meanwhile, Vandred has found what /seems/ to be studio 209. It's impossible to tell, really. Behind the plate-glass windows, the only thing visible are the back-sides of blackout blinds.

Now, the choice faces Sima and JJ: Stairs, or elevator?

+ROLL/+DICE> Jean-Jacques: Perception + Security vs. 6 -> 1 success. (6 4) +ROLL/+DICE> Vandred: Wits + Larceny vs. 6 -> 0 successes. (9 3 3 2 1)

JJ takes his id back and turns to make his way over towards the stairs. Not much to say here, other then he's not gonna pass on the chance for Sima to go up infront of him; holding the door open for her. "209 huh....shouldn't be hard to find."

+LOSE/+BURN> Vandred burns 1 Willpower.

       "... Not been to many appartment complexes, darling?" Sima asides to JJ as she meanders past him, the teasing draw of her airy clothing moving past him with their proximity as the door is held little more than a whisper of contact, just enough to stoke a flame from roused embers. She moves for the stairs, and begins to climb, "Should be the second floor..." She murmurs as she travels, one hand lifting to lower her lenses for a moment so that she can properly see where she's going.
       JJ, of course, is getting quite the show back there as she slinks onward, but she isn't thinking much of it.
       "I'm certain Vandred will meet us there." She assures the man behind her, though it's really more a confirmation for the self.
       ... She worries, after all.

Vandred's left hand reaches downwards, claw-like fingertips idly stroking over the outside of one of the blackout-blinded windows, giving a gentle push as he checks if it's locked. Failure. Ears flattening back against his head in mild irritation, he tries to dig a claw in to see if he can force the window's latch to relax; but that comes with no help at all. Slowly pushing himself back up on to the edge, he sniffs at the air for a moment before going still, palms flattening as he takes one long, slow breath and plants them against the building's roof -- connecting himself with it and rooting his senses into the building total.

"Wait," the guard says weakly from behind the desk. He gets up, and starts to /follow/ Sima and JJ up the stairs. You don't just get rid of someone you've employed Entrancement on, after all. It's sort of like a temporary, weak blood bond. He wants to be around her! And who wouldn't? She has such a...well, a Presence.

The second floor opens up into a wide co-working space, with doors on either side of the long corridor where all sorts of desks and chairs are set up, along with many different kinds of art supplies. There are clearly some projects in process here, along with a bunch of plants, lounge sofas, and wide tables.

On the roof, Vandred can sense that there are, of course, Sima, JJ, and the security guard, coming up the second floor stairs. Then, on the first floor, there's someone in one of the studios. And in the second level, there's someone in the lounge. But aside from that, the building is empty.

JJ turns and smirks when the guard moves to follow them up, shaking his head slowly before giving a sideways glance to Sima as she passes him; then follows up the stairs. "A few, but honestly not that many no. It's ok though, I've seen them on TV." The cajun responds to Sima's rhetorical question about apartment complexes. Looking around the common room first to see if anyone is out and about; and if not he'll start looking for the door labelled 209.

       When Sima notices the guard following her, she slows and turns to face him with that same soft smile of hers -- it's so disarming, sweet and sultry. She allows JJ to walk on by her, allowing him to continue on toward the door as she meanders back down a few steps to address her new friend. Her hands both come up, the pads of her fingertips pressing to the guard's jaw on either side unless he decides to pull away from her.
       "Oh, my dearest, I almost forgot..." She coo's, one of her thumbs moving to brush against the man's cheek, the pitch of her lenses offering nothing as she observes him. "Would you be a dear and get me the keys? I'm in an awful hurry, and I'd just love you -forever- if you could." She promises.

+LOSE/+BURN> Vandred burns 1 Blood. +ROLL/+DICE> Vandred: Dexterity + Larceny + 1 vs. 6 -> 3 successes. (10 7 7 5 5 2) +BOOST> Vandred boosted their Physical/Dexterity stat!

There's a few moments where Vandred simply.. exists. He is a building. He is the building, and he feels all the lives walking around inside, before he blinks rapidly to come back to his senses - letting the additional senses just exist in the back of his head as he slowly creeps over the buildings edge, reaching one too-long arm down towards the window again as the digits curl, and the sharpened claw-tips work their way in under the latch, and then with a twist of his wrist and the push of fingers he hears the satisfying 'thunk' of the latch coming off. He permits himself exactly thirty seconds of smugness, before he then begins the slow process of opening the window.

"Oh, sure," the guard says. He reaches for his belt and hands Sima the big jangling ring of keys to the studios. As for the doors - the one they're looking for is obvious; it's labeled in neat black Helvetica font. ANDI COHEN PHOTO. Good thing he's got his name on it or they'd have had to work by process of elimination.

Vandred cracks the window open and enters a clean white space with a small photo sweep. There's a small portable darkroom set up here, if you know what to look for. A pop-up of black fabric in one corner of the room. The white walls are covered with beautiful black and white silver gelatin prints. Portraits. Some people that the trio of vampires /might/ recognize. Or they might not, depending on which Camarilla luminaries they've had the pleasure of meeting.

Jean-Jacques walks up to the door that is properly labelled...and not with 209... and waits for Sima to use those convienant keys she has now to open it while covering his face with is left hand by virtue of rubbing his temples while he slowly shakes his head from side to side.

       "Ah," Sima makes a bit of a noise as the guard presents the keys to her, the hands at the sides of his face pulling him forward so that she can reward him with a painfully chaste kiss against his brow before she releases him in order to take the keys. "You're my hero." She informs him, managing to provide this statement with nothing in the way of sarcasm to be found.
       Trick is in finding a way to believe it before you say it.
       She moves to turn to walk up the stairs toward the studios, but stops again, and looks over her shoulder toward the guard, "One more thing." She states, "I know, I know, I'm such a bother ... but, you see, I'm not exactly certain that Mister Cohen is in, and walking these stairs is just -murder- in these heels," Is she even wearing heels? Does he want to look away from her to check? "Could you go back to the desk, darling, and wait there so that if he -does- come in ... you could give me a quick holler to let me know?"
       She doesn't move yet, of course, she wouldn't want him to think she's in a hurry to get away.
       "It'd just help me so much."

"Go back to the desk?" The guard asks. Then he blinks. "Oh, shit," he says. "I wasn't even supposed to leave. Shit, shit." He immediately hoists up his pants, which are a couple sizes too big, and then hustles back down the stairs in the awkward shuffle of an ordinary mortal rather than any kind of preternatural Kindred grace.

There are two locks on the door. There is, of course, a deadbolt with a key. Sima has that. But there's also...a modern simplisafe computerized lock with a keypad.

Jean-Jacques eyes the pad for a minute, then shrugs. Reaching up, he knocks on the door in his best impressonation of a knock that is absolutely not a cop knock. Maybe he's in? JJ doesn't know for either way, but doubts that the guard would have just walked with them up here if he wasn't even here.

+ROLL/+DICE> Jean-Jacques: Manipulation + Subterfuge vs. 6 -> 4 successes. (9 9 8 8 3 3 2)

       As Sima puts the keys in the door, her eyes track down to the computerised lock.
       There's a pause, and then an exasperated sigh.
       Her head tilts to look toward JJ as he knocks, her expression fully devoid of the idle mirth that can almost always be found there. Her lower lip slowly protrudes in a pout that screams 'I'm going to have me a tantrum', nostrils flaring as she sucks in a sharp, deep breath. Finally, her hand lifts, and, as though she knew that if Vandred IS in there that he wouldn't be opening the door to cops, her knuckles are rapped against the door three times. A beat of hesitation, two knocks. A third. A pause, two quick taps.

Have you ever felt that there's someone on the other side of the door, and it's doing it's best not to giggle at the fact that they haven't opened the door yet? No? Well. Welcome to Vandred. There's a pause as the two different knocks come through; the first one has him frozen in place, and the second one has him pacing to the door, then just hovering there for a minute.

       *Click* goes the door lock.
       *Clack* goes the internal locks as they're opened.

• Crrrrrreak* goes the door as the Gargoyle opens it up, form giving an odd, rippling blur of motion as it steps back into the darkened room. "We have ourselves an empty, eh?" Comes the growling, gargling voice that's kept low.

"Empty doesn't do us much good." JJ says, and shrugs. "Well, maybe. If we can find the pictures and the camera he took them with it might." Then stepping in, he sees all the pictures hanging around. There's bound to be some other then those of Lascaux that he recognizes the subject of. "Oh, this one has been very naughty."

Indeed, the studio is dark and empty. Sima and JJ can now see the array of prints pinned to the walls. A work desk full of prints in progress with notations on them, little markings in blue pen indicating the exposure levels, the time spent in developer, things which need correcting. Strips of negatives too. In fact, there are binders and binders full of negatives, lined neatly up in a bookcase. Of course there are lights, c-stands, gels, all tucked neatly into one corner. There's also a coffee maker.

Now, do they know what they're looking for?

+ROLL/+DICE> Jean-Jacques: Perception + Alertness vs. 6 -> 3 successes. (10 10 8 4) +ROLL/+DICE> Vandred: Perception + Alertness vs. 6 -> 3 successes. (10 9 8 6 1) +ROLL/+DICE> Sima: Perception + Alertness vs. 5 -> 4 successes. (10 6 5 5)

There are some prints here which seem to be newer. The edges aren't curled in, and most of them have notes on them to indicate that Andi is still in the process of figuring out how he wants to expose the final product. Hmm. In particular there is a portrait of Yvette Delacroix mugging for all she's worth, and along with that portrait, an image of a petite young woman with dark hair and tattoos that come all the way up her neck, posing next to a beautiful soft-featured blonde.

There's also a group of portraits of some rough-looking young men, in particular one very good-looking guy with a lot of tattoos showing off a silver canine tooth. Those seem to have been taken in Pico.

This dude takes alot of pictures, but the event was fairly recent and I'm not actually seeing any photos that are implicating Lascaux. JJ is going to look through his yet to be developed negatives.

+ROLL/+DICE> Jean-Jacques: Perception + Alertness vs. 5 -> 3 successes. (9 6 6 2)

Among the photos from the event that Yvette was at, something immediately sticks out to JJ. There's a photo...where the young tattooed woman is on stage, along with Jack Scar. And then? In the middle? There's just...a guitar. A well-worn acoustic guitar...hovering in thin air. What the hell?

With everyone indoors, Vandred begins on his mission. Firstly, he finds himself a bag - or honestly he's grabbed a blanket/throw and is currently piling up all the portraits and prints that are set up on the walls on to it, humming to himself with a happy little ditty as he goes, head bobbing as he makes his pile. "Pour bien commencer, ma petite journee.." His voice drops off into a hollow hum as he saunters up, looming close to JJ and Sima, and promptly lifts up the prints - having apparently misunderstood completely, he ignores JJ and Sima's actual work of finding the negatives - and chucks those on to his loot-pile, before he begins looking for something else to steal.

       You know, like the guy's cigarettes or vape. Something that is incredibly inconvenient, and will fill Vandred with delight.

JJ clicks his tongue, and chuckles as Vandred does his best to make this look like a legit burglary before searching for the negatives.

Between Vandred and JJ, the studio is more or less ransacked. JJ's found the specific negatives of the Libertas Collective grand re-opening, and Vandred's...well, Vandred has pilfered. He's pilfered some very expensive camera lenses along with the photos. And a light meter! Oh, shiny. What fun this all will be.

Downstairs, the guard is still under Sima's thrall, and gives them no trouble other than sending enormous puppy-dog eyes after Sima as they exit the building. Then they probably call an Uber or something; or maybe Vandred flies them all home in celebration of a job well done. Well-enough done.

Done.