[Restaurant Bistro de Margot] Sound and Vision [Kate]

“No way!! She picked you?! You’re taking the piss,” exclaimed Darun Singh between mouthfuls of pasta in the Ministry canteen. He burst out laughing in that exaggerated, overwrought way of his that frequently irritated the blonde sitting opposite him. Darun threw himself backwards, writhing with jittering, spasmodic laughter in his chair, making repetitive flicking movements with his right hand in Nathalie’s direction. She studied him suspiciously with her eyes narrowed, wondering what tendon she would need to sever to make him stop doing that in public.

Recovering, he continued, “Old Vards has obviously picked the right person for the job.” And this time he laughed so hard he half choked himself on a fusilli.

“If you don’t stop laughing, I will put this fork into your eye.” she responded dryly before taking a careful mouthful of her own dish.

“Seriously, babes, that is just brilliant. That’s a great gig; I’m jealous, really, I am. I mean, no offence Nat, babes, because I love you really, I do, but what exactly do you know about Banshee?”

The blonde dropped her cutlery upon her plate with a clatter and glared back at her colleague. “What does it matter? They’re just a bunch of children making an ungodly racket. And they’re popular, so the Ministry wants them and wants to be seen as hip.”

Darun gave another uncontrolled hysterical screeching laugh that echoed throughout the refectory and turned heads in their direction, and it took him nearly half a minute to catch his breath. “Babes, hip. It’s not the nineteen sixties. Please don’t say that to the manager when you meet him.”

“Her.”

“Her, whatever. Nat, listen. How many Banshee songs do you know?”

Nathalie looked somewhat sheepish, and glared back darkly at her companion. “Well, I don’t know. Lots.”

“Name one, go on, for me.”

“I don’t know their names, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Babes, you’ve never heard a Banshee song in your life. Hum one for me, go on. I’ll count you in. One-two-one-two-three-four . . .”

She scowled back at Darun, who continued to fail to suppress his giggles.

“ . . . they have a song about tea!” she replied suddenly, as if amazed at her own powers of recollection. Darum laughed so hard he couldn’t speak, and Nathalie stormed out of the canteen in a huff.

--------------

The fact of the matter was that Nathalie knew very little more than nothing about music. It was a complete mystery to her; something that other people were interested and wound up in. And popular wizarding music was an even more extreme form of that art. In her weaker moments, she would nearly confess to tapping her foot to a Weird Sister’s song back in the day when it came on the radio, but she had no understanding of why she liked it, and had no intention of ever finding out more. To Nathalie, the music that she heard on the radio was beyond her, something she would never be trendy or fashionable enough to understand, or even keep up with. It seethed with something primal; something that she would have gladly brushed away and ignored, not paraded around for all to see. The music that she sometimes heard on the radio was dangerous.

Banshee being a case in point. Naturally, the name had appeared in the Daily Prophet, and she had gathered in her research (between the gossip pages) that they were popular, and had something of a cross-Atlantic appeal- all red flags to Nathalie of something inherently dangerous to the fabrics of decent Wizarding society. She did not even have to listen to them - Banshee already permeated her culture and, spinning through a radio dial, one was bound to come across a snippet of one of their songs.

And in some ways, Nathalie Wilkins was the perfect person to meet the manager of Banshee, at least from the perspective of her boss. Suspecting the other employees of the Ministry’s Public Information Services to be more easily starstruck, and hence not up to the task of negotiation, Francesca Vardy decided to take a chance on Nathalie’s ignorance.

Therefore, on a drizzly grey October wednesday afternoon one week after her ignoble lunch with Darun; Nathalie, in a formal light-grey business skirt and jacket, was seated at a very nice table in the Bistro de Margot, London’s most upmarket Wizarding restaurant, awaiting the arrival of Banshee’s manager. Kate Duenas was apparently american, and the same age as her dining partner. The aim of the meeting was to somehow convince Kate that Banshee should perform some concerts; with appropriate support and funding, naturally; for several causes deemed suitable by the British Ministry - ranging from Hogwarts fundraisers to future music festivals that would be broadcast on Wizarding radio. Since the downfall of the Dark Lord, the old grey haired men of British Wizarding governance had become somewhat more sensitive to culture, whilst at the same time understanding nothing of it at all. However, there was a growing tendency to ensure that those who formed and moulded culture - whether it be musicians, playwrights, actors or artists - were very much on-board with the Ministry. And if that meant sponsoring or assisting them in the long run, then so be it.

Nathalie had been informed that nothing was to be agreed and signed in blood today; but rather a mutual understanding and tacit agreement to working together in the future should be on the cards. And to that noble goal, Nathalie was provided with a significant ministry client expense budget to ensure that Kate would have quite the generous lunch indeed.

The Maître d’hôtel approached Nathalie’s table with an attractive, slim brunette in tow. The blonde stood up, smile fixed upon her face and extended her hand.

“Nathalie Wilkins, Ministry Public Information Services. Pleasure to meet you. Please, sit down.”

@Kate Duenas

Kate had been preparing for this for days. Her hair was slicked back into a neat ponytail and she was wearing a weather-appropriate burgundy suit. It was rather odd, having the money to purchase clothes she knew she probably wouldn't wear again for a long time on a whim. Not that she had many of these whims -- Kate wasn't a big spender, but she supposed she wasn't entirely frugal, either. Somewhere in between. The American witch's fingers pulled her jacket tight and she clip-clopped across the hard floor of their bedroom toward the front door, but before that her boyfriend was situated watching one of his no-maj things. A movie, he called them. Looked like some sort of weird vampire thing. It had taken some time for Kate to be able to grasp why sitting on the couch and watching a noisy box was a fun hobby, but she'd grown to like them. It was nice quality time for the two of them.

Seemingly in a hurry, even though she was nowhere close to late(and she never was -- thank God she'd never developed such a horrible habit), the brunette leaned down and kissed Charlie on the forehead, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a second before she departed. "Going to a bistro for the meeting with that woman from the Ministry's PR. Supposedly they -- want you guys involved what with the new album's growing popularity," Kate said. "I'll be back later. Probably in time to make dinner. Orrrr maybe I'll bring something back from one of the cafes downtown. Lots of good pumpkin things this time of year. Okay, love you, bye." She blew him a kiss and shut the door behind her, scanning the perimeter for no-majs before she apparated deep into wizarding London with a distinct pop.

As far as she was concerned, the Ministry was not... the friendliest of places. Kate had her game face on when she strode through the shiny glass panes that were, she assumed, the main doors of the establishment. She explained her party situation and was promptly led up to the second floor, where Nathalie Wilkins, the associate she'd be speaking with, was seated. Kate repeated the mantra in her head that until about two years ago, the Ministry had not been friendly to Muggleborns, as they were called here in Britain. In America, it never seemed to be as much of a big deal, but bloodstatus was a huge brou-ha-ha here and she intended to keep as much in mind when speaking to Nathalie about the Ministry's goals. Keeping Charlie safe was much more important than a lump sum of money -- the band's royalties were already racking up as it was from record sales and airtime.

Nathalie looked nice. She was wearing a skirt. Kate wondered if she should have worn a skirt. This was a far more formal ordeal than any deal she usually went to -- people in the music business were not generally concerned with being puffed and pressed at every single meeting as there were usually many of them. Nobody wanted to be suited up at work every single day, but here, it had seemed... appropriate. "Nice to meet you, Nathalie," Kate smiled, her breezy West Coast accent a large contrast to Nathalie's prim, structured manner of speaking. "I'm Kate. I manage Banshee, but I'm pretty sure you already knew that, right?" Her attempt at a laugh would be most easily seen through, she knew, but she cleared her throat and moved to sit down anyway, scooting up close to the edge of the table.

"Alright, so, it's my understanding that the Ministry of Magic would like Banshee to play a few concerts for them? I didn't get much intel other than that. Would you mind giving me a brief overview of what you're looking for, exactly?"

They shook hands in a particularly formal way, their contact brief and efficient. Nathalie sat down in a mirror to Kate’s movement. “Yes, I knew that,” she replied in an offhand manner, but her grey eyes followed every inch of the woman as she seated herself.

Instantly, Nathalie decided that she must hate this young woman. She hated her innate, radiant beauty; her almost doll-like fragility, her hair that was perfect and that had an ideal natural weight and was gently sinuous, and when the light hit it just the right way (which was every way), it had an almost iridescent sheen that added to her disgusting natural beauty. The Californian’s skin announced health and womanly radiance, and her full, welcoming almond eyes appeared to be laser-guided weapons with the outrageous aim to simply dazzle all that had the sheer temerity to meet their gaze. Her posture screeched of someone who took the world in her stride and had few genuine worries. Her accent; for when she spoke it was as if a ribbon of horsehair was being carefully guided across finest taught Italian catgut; stood out a mile, like a lighthouse in the mirk amongst the grey filthy streets of London, where the average and the mediocre spoke with an inflection that lay on a sliding continuum between I’m going to steal your wallet and break your legs Estuary, and I’m going to pay for someone to steal your wallet and break your legs icy received pronunciation.

And she was so disgustingly young. How could someone have the wonderful, obscenely exotic job of band manager, and not have to slave her way through the byzantine mire of somewhere as bleak as the Ministry? “She’s the same age as you, actually,” the blonde had been informed.

And as the Maître d’hôtel walked away, he gazed dreamily over his shoulder once again at Kate, and Nathalie glared up at him through her furrowed eyelashes.

As menus were placed in front of the couple, Kate asked for some information, and Nathalie was awakened from her brooding.

“ . . . yes, ah, naturally.” She returned an icy smile to Kate, and adjusted herself in her chair slightly. “Your band, Banshee; they have certainly been doing very well for themselves, and that has not gone unnoticed by the Ministry.”

For the briefest of moments, the waiter hovered nearby, politely asking had the couple made a decision regarding their lunch. The blonde ordered a seared tuna salad, a bottle of mineral water and, in a move that in a fine french restaurant was possibly akin to declaring war, a glass of Riesling. She managed to give her order whilst not breaking cadence in her conversation with Kate, and carelessly handed her menu back to the waiter with her left hand outstretched away from herself whilst refusing to meet his eyes, as if to underline that he was simply a nuisance. 

“As I was saying,” she continued, smiling carefully at Kate, “Banshee are quite the phenomenon at the minute. To get to the point of the matter,” and the blonde placed both her hands upon the table top, as if to unconsciously gesture the seriousness of her point before continuing with her very deliberate monologue that had been practiced several times before the meeting, “the Ministry, and in particular, the Public Information Services department, are very keen to align with the band. There are several opportunities where both of us can explore synergies, which could be . . . mutually beneficial for the both of us.” Nathalie carefully smiled at the brunette. “What we can offer you is a platform; top billing for all Ministry orchestrated events. At all concerts or benefits arranged by us, Banshee would be there. And naturally, exposure on the WWN would always follow. Would this be of interest to you and your associates?”

Kate peered curiously at her menu while Nathalie spoke, making sure to flick her eyes up every now and then to remind the blonde sitting across from her she was quite a talented multitasker and was still listening intently to everything she was saying. Her initial pitch wasn't anything Kate was particularly surprised by. It was the truth that Banshee was growing in its popularity by the minute and that just about everyone and their mother wanted to be associated with them in some way. "Mhm," Kate hummed, a slow nod punctuating her agreement -- she did agree, after all. So far. It was quite difficult to be famous without major political bodies wanting to be involved somehow. That was why celebrities tended to support particular candidates for things, she supposed. To up their image. Garner more support, whatever it was they were trying to do at the time.

The air was a little thicker than she'd have liked it to be when the waiter, looking a little skittish, reentered their midst. Someone trying to do their job should never have been burdened with the intense unwelcoming vibes even Kate could feel emanating from their table, and so she tipped her chin up to give him a smile, ordering her lunch quickly and efficiently -- "I'd like just a bowl of your bouillabaisse, please, with a glass of whatever Provence rosé is most easily accessible for your staff." Ah, seafood. And French seafood. Kate had never been to France, but she had to admit they weren't lacking in their ability to come up with spectacular cuisine. And Paris was definitely on her bucket list. She wasn't sure whether it would have been odd for her to suggest a venture into the city of love to her boyfriend. Maybe she'd just... wait for him to do it. Avoid whatever assumptions he, in turn, assumed she had if she went out on that limb.

Kate folded her hands in front of her, delicately, not wanting to knock over or disturb any of the utensils or several empty glasses that all looked different on the surface of the table, and offered Nathalie her undivided attention as she continued her pitch. Alignment? Synergy? If she hadn't known any better, she might've thought Nathalie was a hippie, using that kind of terminology. Hippies were rare, though -- almost exclusively popped up on the West Coast, where she was from, and so Kate knew better than to suggest such a thing to her blonde counterpart who, she thought maybe, didn't so much enjoy .... humor. Of any sort. Instead, the brunette witch settled for raising her perfectly-manicured eyebrows just a little bit, displaying her piqued interest.

"I think that's definitely something we would be interested in," Kate began warmly, smiling at her with the corners of her eyes crinkling and all, "but I think... it would work best for everybody involved if they were a series of small contracts. Rather than... one large one." She disentangled her fingers from one another to gently gesture in front of herself, confident this would be a reasonable compromise. "Does that sound like something we could negotiate? On a per-event or per-event series basis?"

She had been warned about this. Nathalie; about as far from a master negotiator as the Ministry of Magic could possibly find; had nonetheless been given several pointers, or rather clear lines that must not be crossed. And at this moment Kate, presumably because she was intelligent and, despite her youth, having had some experience with this whole management game, was very clearly setting out her stall and in turn proceeding to violate one of the cardinal rules that had been explained to Nathalie.

“It is of vital importance that we do not sign up to some kind of à la carte agreement, where the artist can pick and choose exactly what they wish to participate in, and exactly what they do not wish to participate in. This would be a dangerous precedent to set, would it not?

And she agreed, it most certainly would. As far as the blonde understood, the idea, whilst not to be in any way explicitly stated, would be for the Ministry to use Banshee as a tacit form of legitimisation for topics, themes and events. So if, for example, the Ministry decided to press ahead with one of their numerous Good Citizenship programmes; much to the chagrin of several public commentators who considered such policies as vaguely anti-democratic and overtly supervisory; what better way of “grounding” it, then by playing a popular Banshee song in the background of commercials upon the radio? Or, perhaps to hold a music festival, with Banshee as the headlining act, naturally, and having the whole thing as a celebration of whatever was flavour of the month in the corridors of power; the band acting as a way to soften the blow of the particular message that those old men behind closed doors wished to ram into the heads of British wizardingkind.

However, Nathalie was prevented from immediately replying by a welcome interruption, giving her a moment to think. First, wine was fluently delivered, their glasses chilled to perfection, a salmon-coloured rosé and a pale yellow Riesling carefully poured with a french twist. Food followed, deposited with flair and grace as would be expected in such a place. Delicately arranged plates were placed in front of the two women, and the air soon filled with the succulent scents of their dishes.

She raised her glass slightly off the table top. “To . . . fruitful joint endeavours,” she said, clearly and slowly, and she met with Kate’s amber eyes. Each time she gazed upon the girl, she was immediately filled with an inadequacy that was both irrational and overpowering. And yet she could not help but look at her. The feelings she induced were fuelling Nathalie in a way that she did not fully understand; however she knew one thing - she wished to completely overpower her through this little encounter.

The blonde took several slow bites of her salad; “That’s very good, actually,” as an aside, to no one in particular; as if she was surprised that the best Wizarding restaurant this side of the English Channel would serve decent food. She carefully placed her cutlery upon the plate and dabbed her mouth with her napkin, whilst her tongue momentarily extracted something from between her upper molars.

“I’m very happy to hear that you’re interested, Kate,” she began, her voice low but pleasant, “and I understand what you mean; however the Ministry have no interest in a laissez-faire agreement. We would require more, how do you say, well, control over the situation. We would hate for someone in the band to, for example, come out in an interview and say something contrary to Ministerial policy. We would need to brief them; let them know what to say; plan out where we expect them to attend; have free control over the use of their music, you know, in advertisements. That kind of thing.”

Despite Nathalie’s inexperience, she wasn’t stupid. She was aware that what the Ministry was proposing was unreasonable; it would remove the band's autonomy; make them mere stooges of the state, and she was quite sure few groups would want to be controlled in such a way. Still, the Ministry had given her one more trump card to play. But she would keep it close to her chest for now.

The blonde returned to her food, frowning at it animatedly. “It’s really rather good here, isn’t it?”

Kate hadn't expected this business meeting to be smooth-sailing, but it was becoming more and more evident as the seconds passed that it was going to be perhaps a little bit choppier than she'd anticipated. No matter. Kate was an excellent manager, mediator and negotiator. That was why she'd been given this position, she reminded herself. That was what she'd trained herself to do on the Senate and all her skills either came naturally or had been things her father had indoctrinated her with during her shadows with him. Kate sensed that Nathalie could easily underestimate her, and so the witch shifted slightly forward in her seat, leaning more attentively into the conversation.

This was going to be an issue, of course. Kate couldn't allow the Ministry complete autonomy over the band -- for one thing, the band would certainly not allow it, and for a second thing, neither would Kate. It was a dangerous game to entertain allowing a political entity that was bound to have less-than-savory agendas complete control over one's public image. The whole thing seemed a little sketchy to Kate: she was one-hundred percent sure that somebody in the Ministry who was in charge of orchestrating this deal (and it clearly wasn't Nathalie, she was just the gopher) knew that Charlie was muggleborn and was intending to exploit that for Ministerial benefit. Kate wanted to know why they couldn't wash themselves clean of their previous... indiscretions without having to use somebody who could have easily been a victim of them. They could, of course, it would just be much harder and would actually require some reform on their part.

Kate smiled all the same and lifted her wine glass, her fingers splayed underneath it for a light support, to clink it against Nathalie's in a polite toast. She took a drink soon after that and held it in her mouth for a moment as was protocol, then swallowed. "Delicious." Kate praised with a nod, and then laid her cloth napkin out over her lap, digging into her soup and leaning over the bowl so as not to dribble on herself. Perhaps a bowl of soup hadn't been the most practical option to order and she should've gotten a salad like Nathalie had, but the taste of the dish made it more than worth it.

"Mhm, mhm." Kate murmured as she ate, quite thankful that her demeanor was not quite as abrasive as her boyfriend's when it came to business deals. With ones that could piss important people off if the wrong things were suggested, like this one, it was definitely better for Charlie to stay home and to let Kate do her job. She was lucky that he trusted her completely to make the right choices for everyone involved.

She wasn't positive whether or not Nathalie was aware of Banshee's scope or their increasingly heavy load of events and gigs to attend, but this type of contract would simply not suit them, even if she'd wanted to entertain allowing someone else to have control over her band, what they played, where their music was advertised and the like. The Ministry could not require them to be at events and promotions that would step on other things they had previously agreed to. Kate was a smart woman, and she knew that the Ministry clearly needed Banshee more than Banshee needed them. Diplomatically, of course, she intended to make that clear.

"I understand that the Ministry has a delicate image to uphold and that each and every thing they choose to endorse may... affect such image," Kate began after she swallowed another bite of her soup, "But the issue I'm having here, Nathalie, as I'm sure you'll understand quite well, is that Banshee is not looking to be controlled. We're more than happy to negotiate something that includes use of their music and playing at sponsored gigs, and the band's more than happy to be politically correct and polite when the occasion calls for it, but we've got smaller-scale things on our roster for the next several months planned out and bigger things into the next year." She cleared her throat and paused, but not quite long enough for Nathalie to interrupt her. "One of the most important things to us is being able to communicate and play authentically, and I'm afraid an agreement like that wouldn't be suited to the band's interests."

Kate wondered how somebody as non-confrontational as her could be comfortable saying no to important people like Ministry liaisons, but it was sort of... satisfying. She felt a warm surge in her chest and nodded, smiling over at her new friend again. "It really is great food. Excellent choice."