Several miles outside of the Kalatravaasa club's city limits, a fairly-infamous biker bar simply called "Motors" stood out as a garish black spot in the fairly-arid part of the state, and of the average social graces most establishments would've prided themselves in. For the many bikers and gangs traveling city-to-city, it served as a neutral stop between rides, where rival gangs played nice lest the bartenders or management judiciously dispense order.
The sizable dark-colored Lexus pulled up into the Motors' parking lot raised several eyebrows, as did the appearance of the man stepping out of it. The master hypnotist Martin Boyd emerged from the luxury car in a dark navy suit, expensive designer shoes he loathed kicking dust up on, wearing sunglasses and an expression bearing slight disdain for the meeting venue. A few bikers leaving the establishment and getting on their bikes laughed in his direction, others looked at him wearily as if he could be law enforcement or some kind of contract killer. None could've made the guess as to his specialty and purpose, which was fine with Martin as he didn't have to coax any hard-headed patrons to do his bidding and leave him be. Stepping into the bar, he looked around the expanse of the bar, unconcerned with the crowd or their eyes that drew curiosity and question marks. It took longer than expected for Martin to find the person who'd picked a biker bar far from practical safety as a meeting place, but in a low-lit booth off to the corner, he found a group of four seated there, specifically two conspicuous bikers sporting club colors and two women cleanly-dressed in jeans and leather jackets. One of them had long brown hair, and a youthful veneer, smiling and speaking to a very receptive bearded man sitting next to her. The other sporting red highlights amongst dark hair, hiding shimmering green eyes gestured to the suited hypnotist to take the separate seat set out before them.
"Ah, Master Martin; I'm happy you could find us here," the charming British voice came clearly to Martin's ears, almost cutting through all the standard background noise of a nearly-packed bar.
"Hello Goddess Hannah. I'd like to say I'm happy you found this place to meet," Martin replied, summoning more effort than expected to mask clear discomfort; Martin being used to many clientele with means, and especially the riches afforded to him by being high-level operations management for the Kalatravaasa organization, such locales seemed beneath him, even though he inwardly remained impressed that this place was chosen.
Eyeing the two very unkempt-looking bikers and their female companions with critical glances, it was easy to surmise that the men were bodyguards as oppose to being dates for the out-of-place beauties. Somewhat blank looks from the bikers painted pictures of Hannah and her lead-harem girl Kendra being approached and solicited for whatever bikers of their caliber considered "a good time." The scene played out nicely in how each woman slipped themselves close to an ear, depositing their opinions on what a "good time" would happen to constitute to them in the future. Hannah would of course use her exotic accent to catch them off guard, and direct their train of thinking into a green horizon that grew the longer each made eye contact. With each work spoken and each second lingering in her eyes, "good" equated to listening and obey while being lost to time. And subtle glances towards Kendra told Martin how much body language she was used to expressing, a free hand dancing before the other biker's eyes, a hypnotic, fluttering dance of fingertips more private than the full-body display that would've riled up the whole bar became his privilege, then his duty to follow, then his oblivion deepened by words Hannah must've taught her very well.
As Martin's eyes darted back and forth to theorize exactly what probably happened, they came to face the green ones staring back at him. Each set of eyes communicated understanding of what truly happened, and respect of her and her apprentice's abilities; Martin's eyes lowered in light, acknowledged deference, even as he traced the band of his trademark ring circling his finger.
"Well, now that you have me thoroughly out of my element and practically at the mercy of your new companions or their friends behind me, I can assume this is a productive meeting for you so far."
"I would think so; the lack of sweat across your forehead may mean you're made of sterner stuff than most."
"As someone looking to conduct business, yes," Martin admitted, glad he attended this meeting personally instead of sending Brian and Harry to meet, unsure of their mettle in this kind of situation.
"And as I understand it, business is your offer to have a performance ready for the Kalatravaasa?"
"Indeed, Goddess Hannah. It would be an honor for our prestigious club to be graced with the talents and burgeoning reputation of a magician and hypnotist such as yourself."
"I see," she got the attention of her companion who fled to get her another bottle of water after a mere glance and whispered word. "And what consists of my 'burgeoning reputation' of late? Have I become famous, or infamous in the eyes of the Kalatravaasa?"
"To my knowledge, it is strictly an honorable fame; those who would think of you as infamous simply be afraid of the sheer breadth of your...power." He hesitated to use the last word, even though it seemed palpable despite the energy behind him throwing drunken vibes.
"It's nice to know my tricks of the trade have mystified to elevate me to the level of having 'power,'" Hannah laughed, unwilling to show her full hand to someone operating on a trust deficit.
"To those not in the know, power is a matter of perspective. No one would even think of me as a hypnotist-"
"Until they see that bronze ring of yours?" Hannah interrupted, revealing Martin wasn't the only one that who'd sought intelligence.
Martin replied with a slightly-charming smile. "Oh, you've seen it? If there are rumors abound of it, I hope they're good ones. I always prefer to leave a lasting, positive impression with it, though I hope that doesn't set an expectation of seeing it, leaving a subject center their thoughts on the expectation of what trance under it is supposed to be like."
As Hannah's biker slave returned, she sipped her water with a smile on her face, enjoying the suggestive show of power from Martin's end, imagining how easily unsuspecting women would fall to such an introduction.
"It can't be as impressive as that pen-light you're known to use."
That caught Kendra's attention, producing imaginings of the first and most recent time she'd been exposed to Hannah's modern version of a magician's wand, affixing the mystical light to the control weaved into her being like the pretty embroidery.
"Which can't nearly have the reputation you'd expect it to; it can be a nebulous exercise to see it not appear in people's minds. They know what a pen-light looks like, from doctors offices and other random places, they know how brilliant the light is supposed to be at the right angle, and how special the person holding it typically should be, but few really stop to think at how arbitrary a specific pen light is when you could really take the time to notice how many pens in any given place have shiny, eye-trapping ends. Even in this bar, the pen at the part with the silver end, writing utensil on the waitress's tray, or even the pen I'm sure with the golden tip somewhere in that handsome suit of yours. All you need for an infamous pen-light to illuminate someone is a pen with a shiny end, emphasizing the shining end the eyes want to see, to line up with the expectation you mentioned, to fulfill the direction their minds are dying to go, to be the hypnotist their minds need so they can go where they were always meant to go....Sleep!"
Hannah snapped her fingers at the man sitting next to her, as she observed Kendra, her companion, and even Martin had been caught off-guard by her description. She brought her biker slave back to wakefulness and let everyone else naturally return.
Martin for his own part let himself become impressed with the mechanical use of Hannah's words, finding her voice hauntingly-clear for some reason, leaving his mind to follow, to feel the pen of accurate depiction sitting in his lapel jacket, the golden tip lightly burning in his mind as he almost slipped away. He blinked slowly to come back to Hannah's twinkling eyes.
"Perception is power, as you stated Master Martin," she smiled.
Composing himself while pretending to be unaffected, he simply nodded, clearing his throat.
"And the perception I have of the Kalatravaasa, given their cordial representative, leads me to accept your offer to at the very least, give a show at your club. And perhaps look into the possibility of membership, if the perception remains as is."
She reached across the table to extend her hand to shake. He reached over to shake her hand and agree to a performance to be arranged soon, probably for the next official event. In their extended handshake, Martin allowed his hand to be turned for a clear view of his ring. The way reflected bronze light shined in deep green eyes made him smile, though he didn't dare hold her gaze longer than he needed to.
