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Nodding, she agreed.
"That's usually the way it is. Like people with green thumbs as well. You might not be supernatural, but you have your own abilities. Everyone does.
Maybe I can bring you to the house some time and show you the fun things there are to do there. It's not your ordinary house, after all. Then, I suppose nothing about me -is- ordinary..."

Well, if thriving in an urban environment in preternatural I'll live with it...but no capes. He turned them up a familiar street, his house was only up the block. I'd like to see where you live...tell me...got a lion or harpsichord playing butler?

Smiling, she shook her head.
"No, but I have a room that will make you forget you're in the country. It'll be safer if I take you during the day-but not as much fun."

Pausing to dig out his keys Tal gave her an arch look, How does a room make you forget you're in the country? Stepping in he toed off his shoes and chuckled as Biscuit tried to right himself from his normal prone position to welcome Kenly. But I'm all for safer, I'd like to leave with all body parts and bits intact. Grimacing he stared at the old answering machine on his hall table. He'd never mastered the art of keeping a cell phone alive, and his house wasn't wired correctly for voicemail...but that stupid machine never gave up all his messages when he asked.

Feel free to make yourself at home on the sofa, I have to wrestle with my ancient phone to get my messages. I'm waiting to hear back on a couple things. Jabbing half-heartedly at the machine he waited for it to deliver it's traditionally garbled messages.

Watching him move to his answering machine, she scooted into the living room, coaxing Biscuit to come with her. Picking up the feline, she stroked his back as she settled into the couch comfortably.
"Trust me, when I show you this room, you'll understand. You can't tell anyone about what you'll see at my house, though."

After stabbing repetitively at the machine it finally screamed and spewed out a garbled message. "Tal? This is Joc, dad says the idea is fine, but you have to present it along with an Angel if you want it to go. Oh, and if I don't see you before opening break a leg." Puffing out a breath Tal rubbed the back of his neck and headed into the living room.

So, what, your house has national secrets in it? Not that I'd tell, I mean, how would I even start that conversation? 'So, I met this woman, well a witch/vampire hybrid...' Yeah, no one would believe anything I said after that. Grinning he slid into the couch beside her and tugged on a curl. So yeah, I'll be the soul of discretion.

Leaning into the tug, she laid her head on his chest.
"You could say something like that. Let's just say you won't find anything like what you'll see at my house anywhere else. Not anywhere."
Mulling over what she had heard of the message, she had to ask.
"What did he mean about an 'angel'?"

Relaxing back into the cushions Tal twisted his lips, An Angel, in theater speak, is someone to finance a new show. Most shows cost a lot to get together; the staff to run it, the play-writes to get it set for stage, the light and stage crews, the dancers, renting the right theaters and props, costume designs...pretty much everything. An Angel is someone that pays for all of that with the expectation of making their money back after the show opens. Our current show is backed by a group for the arts that's headed by a couple of the larger companies in town. Unfortunately, they only back two shows a year, and we've already done those, so I get to find someone else. Joc's, Joceyln Heater, dad is the head of the local dancers guild and he usually goes over any proposed ideas before we do them...I was hoping he'd be willing to do the legwork on this one. Looks like I was wrong.

Petting the cat, she listened attentively.
"I see. Has an Angel ever been an individual, or is it usually always a group?"
Wiggling a little closer, she took her spare hand and started to gently massage his thigh and around his knee, never going too high to be inappropriate.
"Lie down and I'll treat you. Consider it my flowers to you for the production."
Turning, so she was only sitting on the edge of the couch, she gently poured Biscuit onto the floor, despite his protests. She waited for Tal to do as she asked, and if he didn't, she was going to offer a little mental prodding. Watching him, and being in his head, she knew what she could offer would help him this coming evening.
"Depending on how the show is, I might just have a surprise for you afterwards, too."
She left the statement very vague so he could ponder on what she meant all evening.

Twisting around on the sofa, Tal was no ones fool, he sighed and got a face full of fur as Biscuit jumped back up. Carefully setting the cat on the arm he stretched out. I've never seen a show where it was just one person playing Angel, but I guess if someone had enough money they could. He furrowed his brow as he thought about it, he wasn't a numbers man, so he couldn't begin to compute how much it would cost. Reaching a hand up he scratched the cat's chin, But really, those with enough money are few and far between.

Nodding, she started working on his shoulders and neck, her fingers nimble and knowledgeable.
"I'm surprised someone doesn't own you. You know, having you do so many shows a year for a regular paycheck or whatnot. Or is that just old-fashioned of me to think?"

Tal stiffened under her hands, even though he knew it was a knee-jerk reaction. Own me? Or own the theater? In this day and age it's pretty much impossible to find a theater that's privately owned. As I mentioned, they're all expensive shows to run and even the richest group can't afford a lot of things running. And I don't know if anyone get a 'regular' paycheck in this business. It's all about how well the show does, but that motivates the troupe to do it's best so they don't end up working a flop.

Listening intently, she slowly worked her way down his shoulders and out to the end of each arm, coming back in to work on his back.
"I see. So, yes, old-fashioned of me. I haven't been to an actual show since... Well, you don't want to know what the last show I saw was.
What do you think your troupe would do if they had steady work? I mean, not having to travel around for productions, or wonder where their next Angel is coming from?"

Relaxing, he'd not realized how tense he was until she'd gotten going, Tal pondered her question. I don't know what the troupe would do if they didn't move from play to play. Most wouldn't stay long, part of being in theater is that you're always moving on. So I think some of the older ones would leave to join other troupes, but most would just enjoy the knowledge that they had something NEXT. Taking a slow, deep breath, he wondered if this is how felt to cats when they got someone's undevided attention...if so he could now understand all the feline glares over the years. But now you've got me curious, what was the last show you saw?

Stopping what she was doing for a moment, she sighed softly before continuing down to the base of his spine.
"The Vagabond King with Dennis King. Back in the 20's."
She waited for the truth of the matter to sink in while she quietly worked on his tense muscles down through his backside and onto his thighs.

Wincing as she found a bruise Tal hummed in the back of his throat. It was excellent, I got to see it in one of my courses...of course it wasn't Dennis King. I've heard that a few copies of his filmed version survived...must've been grand to see.