"And you are doing that....here?"

[Basil Gillingson] Basil listened to the silent tick of time go by as he reads. A book sat in his lap, the leather skin enveloping its contents having a tinge that resembled more paler flesh then the hide of a cow. Basil had long adjusted to the origins of the book and he felt it was best that it was in his hands rather then a misguided zealot or a foolish apprentice. It was but one of the archives he possessed personally. He paused, fingers reaching down and delicately turning the page to prevent further wear on its pages. he even cradled the spine so the book did not sink into itself and cause unnecessary bending as he looked at the scrawled runes on the page.

Codified symbols bearing the high speak of Enochian and runes primary to the Umbrood were etched into the pages...the sheaves made of fine material that would likely withstand a century more before they could only be turned delicately if damage was to be spared of the tome. For most, the mental constant tick...the subconscious feel of the second hand's turn would drive someone mad. For Basil, it was clockwork...it was precise. It was as things should be. He sat in the common area as he read, dark eyes taking in the pages.

[Morgan Lake] She's quiet, the redhead who comes in - she's also tall, and young, and moves with a confidence that few in their late teens (because she can't be any older than that, judging by looks) hold. There's something in her brown eyes, should one look, that's vaguely haunted - memories worn not on her sleeve, but in every thought, in every glance. When she'd arrived is anyone's guess, but she arrives in the sitting room now, holding a book (of course) and moving for a table [study desk] with it. There's a laptop bag slung over one shoulder; the book is set down with care first, and then the computer pulled out and started up.

Basil has been noticed, certainly, and is eyed curiously every now and then; given so much time spent with Ashely, Morgan tends to have at least an idea who most of the mages in the city are. This man, though, she's never seen. Carefully, though, considerate, she stays quiet and doesn't interrupt his reading.

[Basil Gillingson] Basil does not continue reading at Morgan's entrance. His fingers touch the sides of the cover and it closes with almost a crack of sound as he snaps it shut. The dark eyes stare out from behind the hawk nose as he turned to look at Morgan. The eyes stared silently...almost accusing as if the apprentice were some sort of spy.

"Do you often interrupt the studies of others with your fidgeting? Or do I have the honor of that displeasure?"

[Morgan Lake] An eyebrow raises as she looks at the older man - she's been quiet and considerate, and there's a hint of irritation at this question. One corner of her mouth quirks up, though, and she answers plainly enough. "Sorry. I'm done now, but if that was bothersome, I suppose the tapping of keys will be more so and I should go somewhere other than the common area to work on my paper."

Okay, plainly and a bit snarkily - but not too bad. Just enough attitude and spark to be interesting, but not insubordinate.

[Basil Gillingson] "....paper?"

He pauses, his lips pursing as he stares at her.

"...a college paper? As in mundane academia? And you are doing that....here?"

The older man stared now, lips pursed, the eyes continue to boor holes into her and from each new little insertion of a question...each inquisition of information...the Quaesitor was forming an opinion...a decision...a judgment on what to think of this young one.

[Morgan Lake] ".....no." It's flat, that, and her face is becoming less friendly by the moment. "I don't start college classes until the fall. I suppose 'abstract' or 'brief' could have been more appropriate, but would have equally mundane connotations and have gotten a similar reaction."

She is not defensive, and has not folded under the intensity of his [judgment (I will not be found lacking)] gaze; she stands calmly, easily, as comfortable in her skin as an eighteen year old is likely to be. She's attractive enough, athletic, and there's an intelligence clear in her eyes, and a quietly studious nature under it all.

"If I were working on something for that, however, I'd be like any number of other students and find a convenient coffee shop or library. Now, I can't help wondering. Do you often interrupt the studies of others with your cross examinations, or do I have the sole honor of that displeasure?"

It's amazing how polite she can sound, even mimicking his words and tone back at him.

[Basil Gillingson] "It is my job to question others. I am Initiate Exemptus Basil Gillingson bani Quaesitor, Walker of the Tartan Pit, the Seventh White Lightning Strike of Jorvika, Jupiter's Prodigy, and Thrice-Proved Scion of the Halls of Rezhark. I am a judge, jury, and at times....an executioner to the errant, the disgraced, and the fallen. No one is above that speculation or inquisitions. That is who I am...that is what I do. Do you have a problem with that?"

He asks....the question now posed at her like a sword offered to her throat as if he would strike her down for the wrong answer...an insolent answer...or even an answer he might not like. It would seem that there was another Hermetic now come to the city.

[Morgan Lake] "Mmm," she says, non-committal. "I suppose it's a rare few judges who can keep their work completely to the bench, especially if they've been doing their job as long as you must have been."

Yes, she totally did just call him old, in that very proper and polite sort of way - who knew she could? It surprises her, honestly.

"I'm Morgan Lake, apprentice to Adeptus Ashley McGowen bani Tytalus, The Watcher in Darkness, Devourer of Knowledge, Scion of the Burning Tower, Herald of Endings, Chosen of the Great Serpent. And, while I have no problem with you doing your job? I do find it rather irritating that I'm not yet working on my paper."

The last is with that smirk, so full of teenaged arrogance, so certain of herself. She is an apprentice, yes, and there is the respect that should be there when speaking with a magus of higher degree, but that doesn't stop her from answering in such a manner. She is, quite simply, being honest.

[Basil Gillingson] "Ah....you are under McGowen. That explains -much-."

Basil said, that sardonic tone in his voice...the way he says Ashley's last name rolled off his tongue like he had just eaten something he detested and yet was not so crude to spit it in the cook's face.

"And the paper you are so committed to entails what?"

[Morgan Lake] It's almost comical, the way brows rise and eyes narrow; Morgan doesn't like hearing those words spoken of Ashley, in that tone. She doesn't comment on it, however - simply tosses her head (and thus that long red hair) in a manner not unlike a well bred mare. Already, she holds a measure of Hermetic haughtiness, this apprentice does.

"Applications of Ars Mentis at varying levels of knowledge, particularly in a courtroom setting."

It's the best way she can think of to not hate it (be afraid of it); list its benefits to the goal she's had for herself almost as long as she can remember.

[Basil Gillingson] "Mmm....you plan to use your arts within a courtroom then?"

He says offhandedly, this question not nearly as direct or inquisitive...almost as if a lure to pull her into conversation rather then dismissing so easily. It had other purposes, but primarily, it was the lure to talk.

[Morgan Lake] "Not necessarily. But they'd certainly come in handy in many ways, at many times. Making sure the guilty face the consequences of their actions and that the innocent go free, and so on. And I do fully intend to be in a courtroom after I finish law school and pass the bar."

There's a determination there, a steel. It gives the impression that if anyone can make it to that point, Morgan can.

[Basil Gillingson] "I see. One must be careful though. If you abuse the ability to ferret out lies with your Will...it goes from being a cherished and well-earned talent to a crutch leaned upon because your own skills are weak. And with abuse....comes further abuses. One day, its seeing a lie...the next...making someone feel guilty when there had not been guilt before. Or making an innocent man guilty because you think he is the one...he must be the culprit."

Basil looks to her.

"Do not think that by acting as a champion of light...that the ink of darkness will not turn your cape gray."

[Morgan Lake] "Of course. Those are only two potential uses. There's also the simple expedient of enhancing one's natural charisma," this is vaguely amused, as Morgan doesn't consider herself particularly charismatic, "which enables one to better get across one's point. Which could well be invaluable for a lawyer. Or the easier organizing of one's thoughts to form a stronger argument."

She shrugs, wry now.

"There are lots of ways it could be used. I'm looking for precedent, is all."

[Basil Gillingson] He just nods some before his fingers come to rest on the strange leather tome that he held...eyes then staring once more at her and then he did something...offsetting. He gave a smile. But there was no life in it, no true strength behind it. It was mirthful...it was false.

"A Hermetic lawyer...how nice. Are you planning to join the Quaesitor?"

[Morgan Lake] That . . . actually gets a scowl. "Smiling's great, really. I like smiling, and laughing is even better. But I don't like it when people are fake." Sassy, she, this willful apprentice. The rest, though, gets a shrug.

"It's been mentioned as an eventual possibility. From what I understand, the prerequisites are things I intend to do, anyway."

[Basil Gillingson] "It takes more then a want for justice. It takes the Will to also exact justice."

The British tones roll from his voice as he looked at her.

"Do you think you can do that, eh? Exact justice?"

[Morgan Lake] "I would find it distasteful sometimes, but I'm sure I could," she says in cool, easy tones. "And lawyer is only a start, and my eye is for policy. I'll be going further than attorney." There wants to be a 'so there' or 'thank you very much' appended, but the girl manages to stop - just barely. Still, her eyes snap with it. Her posture speaks of it.

[Basil Gillingson] "Very well. A test then. You have just found a magi who has fallen from the path....they have used corrupt rotes and hidden this from their Tradition. They have even spread this foul plague of ideas to others. You can drag it out or you can take initiative right then and there to extract the information from them. But alas, they have mental shields. How would you go about doing this?"

[Morgan Lake] "Well, the first decision would be whether to draw it out or take immediate action - and, in this particular example, I think the best choice would be immediate action. If, by the time this came to be, I'd learned enough Ars Mentis, I would try to get past his or her shields, and if I hadn't . . . not to sound like a bad movie, but there are ways of making people talk. I would find a weakness, and press until it gave."

This is all rather matter of fact - sure, there could be further questions of methodology, but this girl seems like an 'any means necessary' sort of person.

[Basil Gillingson] "And exactly what method would you use to make him do so?"

He sets the book down...his fingers pressing almost like in a prayer before him...fingers bridging together. For a moment, there was the faint sound like being next to a Tesla Coil...the odd electrical sound when it meets ozone and flairs for just a moment.

[Morgan Lake] "That would depend on the weakness, really. There are a great many ways to exploit most of them, but in the end, I suppose they all boil down to torture." To conditioning. This gives her momentary, internal pause; something brief and barely noticeable flickers across her eyes, then she shrugs. "It's not a judgment call that can really be made without more specific examples. I mean, what were the corrupt rotes? How far have the ideas spread? Is it known to whom, and can these others be found without the fallen one? One wouldn't want to press too far or too hard if one doesn't have all the information at hand."

She's thoughtful, then, and adds, "It might be best to befriend the fallen one and find out everything one can from him or her before proceeding . . . if there's time, of course. But then, one runs the risk of being turned oneself, or being caught out as a spy."

[Basil Gillingson] "For the moment, we'll keep the questions focused to torture. You feel that you would be capable of handling such methods? If you'll excuse me...I do think you're not exactly qualified to be a good judge of self capability in doing such."

Basil let the false smile stay...the sardonic expression as if he knew things she would never know. But he also had quite a bit of time on her in comparison.

[Morgan Lake] [Rolling Char + Performance for my Ragabash-skin! Alas, poor Kemp. We knew him well.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]
to spider

[Morgan Lake] "I think, quite honestly, that I wouldn't be right now. It's one thing to talk of their potential necessity, and a completely different thing to actually enact these methodologies. And, while I've been exposed to literature on torture methods of various societies - physical and otherwise - reading is as different from acting as talking is. However, that may well have changed by the time I find myself in a position where I'd need to make such a decision."

Never mind the voice in her head that says she hopes not. Never mind her mother's voice speaking of things she'd said when she was younger, before all this came about.

[Morgan Lake] [Rolling Char + Performance + PB for my Ragabash-skin! Alas, poor Kemp. We knew him well.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
to spider

[Basil Gillingson] "An astute answer. Allow me to give a stated fact. Looking at you apprentice....you do not have the cut...the gip...or the measure to do such things. Talk is merely bluster. Books can only teach so much. And many...many Hermetics shy away from the task when its finally before them. Torture is not an eloquent method...nor precise. Even with understanding it, there can always be a slip. And then you have a death upon your conscience. The trick is...to lose a little bit of that conscience so it doesn't disturb you as prominently. On the other hand...if you go that route..."

He walked...almost seemed to pace and circle her position as he talked with the voice of wisdom...and probably more chilling...experience.

"..you have the problem of not coming back. Your judgment becomes skewed...you become more likely and prone to the direct route. And that makes you less about justice and more about results."

[Morgan Lake] "If I may be so bold, Initiate Exemptus," still so polite, but now it's cutting - and still she stands straight, with a pride that not just anyone could hold in such a situation, "you do not know me at all. And, as I'm fairly certain you haven't prodded at my mind - please don't take that as an invitation - you're making this judgment based solely on my appearance and a half an hour or less of conversation. I'm eighteen years old and have been Awakened for all of five months, and while that may sound like an excuse, lack of experience is generally a viable one."

She watches him and yes, there are signs of temper there - but mostly, it's in how very calm she is.

"There are already things I've done, or that have happened to and around me, that I can never come back from. And I've always been prone to taking the most direct route possible to any end. I fail to see how that's a bad thing."

[Basil Gillingson] "Its not...I am merely pointing out that once you go the path of doing things in grays...you can quickly sink down to blackness. And then...you get to meet grinning men like myself. I will need to suggest to your mistress that perhaps some learning on the last War might familiarize you more with the aspects of the Quaesitor and how dedicated and how far we have gone when it comes to matters of corruption. I am sure being of House Tytalus, she can readily inform you of the processes."

He breaks off from the orbit after a moment...before he moved to take up his book. He rubbed his hand on the cover once more before looking as if he were about to leave.

[Morgan Lake] Again, Morgan's eyes narrow - she's seldom so displeased as when he speaks poorly - or even seems to - of her mentor. Ashley is, after all, the closest thing Enid has to family left. That she can access, at any rate, regardless of father sightings and mothers she could well reach with a phone call if she so desired.

The latter, though, is hardly considered family at all any more, other than in the nostalgic sense. And the former would quickly have her back in the grasp of the former, even if through no fault of his own.

"Thank you, Mr. Gillingson. I'll have to look into it."

[Basil Gillingson] "I'm sure you will. Scholars never can keep their noses out of things. Good day, apprentice."

He doesn't even call her by name...just title as he tucks the book beneath his arm and makes his way out.