Johnathon stared down in utter disbelief at the sets of cards on the playing surface atop the cart between himself and Qrow. Once again, he had lost, and once again, Qrow had wound up just barely edging him out of a fairly clean, yet questionably legitimate victory. The younger boy stared across the cart with a smug expression and folded arms before shaking his head and offering a noncommittal shrug.

"20 to 21, yet again. Care to keep pushing your luck, 'devil', or do you have a golden fiddle coming my way sometime soon?" the teen mused as he scratched at his chin.

"How about a favor later, and a free meal now?" Johnathon offered as he scooped up his cards. "I'd very much like to talk to you about tactics and trickery, Mister…?"

"Branwen. Qrow Branwen," the boy replied as he offered a hand, which Johnathon accepted with a firm grip. "As far as that talk, though, I'm afraid that my secret is going to remain exactly that. Otherwise, how am I going to keep winning and getting favors from you?" Qrow asked with a smirk as the pair separated hands once again.

"Oh, don't you worry about that," Johnathon reassured with a charming smile. "I think an arrangement can be made that benefits us both. Information for information, a favor for a favor, that sort of thing. I just so happen to know a few people who know a few other people who could provide you with opportunities in and around Vale City that you won't hear of up at your fancy little academy."

Qrow paused at the statement, and watched Johnathon carefully as the man went about collapsing his cart into an overlarge suitcase on wheels. Johnathon finished by taking the large umbrella and giving it a dramatic, sweeping twirl in his hand, only for the massive implement to transform into a studded black cane by the time the end made its way back down to the surface of the sidewalk.

"How did you… what did you just…?" Qrow asked in a state of disbelief, only to take note of the fact that somewhere in the trick, Johnathon's white dress shirt had turned a deep, bloody red.

"Information," Johnathon replied with a cocky chuckle. "The explanation counts as such, and it's of the kind I'm willing to trade… assuming you're equally as willing. Am I correct in thinking that your nigh-impossible winning streak has something to do with your semblance, my friend?"

"You could say that, yeah," Qrow admitted as he fell into step beside his new companion and the pair began to make their way down the sidewalk. "But what did you mean by 'opportunities I won't hear about at Beacon?' What exactly are you offering, and maybe more importantly, why offer them to me?"

Johnathon spared Qrow an amused look as he continued forward at a brisk pace, his suitcase dragging along behind him. "You're young. Too young. First year, aren't you?" He paused, and waited for Qrow to nod, before nodding himself. "I figured as much. You won't even be seeing a bounty board until the last quarter of the year, my friend. I can help you circumvent the boredom, and earn a bit of lien on the side, to get ahead of the game. All I ask is for a little help from you, now and again, and a finder's fee for procuring odd jobs. That's not too much to ask, now is it? And if you don't personally need the lien, I'm sure you must know someone who does, out here in this damnable city."

Qrow scowled and stuffed his hands into his pockets in response to the sudden knowledge about the inner workings of Beacon Academy. "Yeah, you've got me there… but they seriously won't let us take jobs until the end of the year? I figured the second semester, at the absolute latest."

Johnathon laughed, and raised his cane to wag a finger in Qrow's direction. "Oh, no, they're not going to risk letting your precious little team out into the wilds until you're good and full of useless textbook information. Maybe most wouldn't be fit for the kind of offers I can give you, but you… you've got an edge I don't often see in people from that academy, and that's your 'why', Mr. Branwen. I think you can handle more than what I know you'll be given. You've already proven that you know how to walk on the wild side, so why not keep your hot streak going?"

Qrow let out an amused snort, and chuckled softly. "Gotta say, I'm liking the looks of what you're selling, and I get the feeling you know I'm a total mark for it. Do you make these kinds of offers often?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Johnathon replied. "I generally don't take interest in people who can't best me at cards, and that cuts out most of Vale from my options. After all, what chance would they have against grimm or scavengers, when they can't outsmart a few slips of dodgy paper and sleight of hand?"

"So you cheat, is what you're telling me," Qrow replied flatly.

"And yet, you still won, decisively," Johnathon countered. "The only fair fight is the one you win, Qrow, and if there's money involved, it is a fight, whether or not both parties know that they're in one."

Qrow watched in confusion as Johnathon moved slightly off to one side on the sidewalk, and began to walk with a bit of distance between the two of them. Each time they passed a lamp post, some article of clothing or facial feature on Johnathon changed until he appeared to be an entirely different, far older man with long, ragged brown hair and a slight limp by the time they reached the corner.

"A con artist with a transformation semblance. A match made in hell," Qrow stated as the pair reconvened and followed the curve of the sidewalk.

"As are you and I," Johnathon replied in a voice far removed from his former one. "It certainly has its uses. Uses like pretending to be a famous author from Mistral known to enjoy the restaurants in this area, in order to get us a private booth where we can talk business while away from unwelcome ears. And what about yours? A different sort of illusion? Capability of swapping locations of things with a simple thought, perhaps?"

"Nothing quite so interesting," Qrow warned. "I passively radiate bad luck every now and then, especially when tension or emotions are high. Doesn't affect me in any direct way, but makes it difficult to fight alongside friends, or keep things under control when circumstances turn to shit. It's blown up in my face more than once…"

"…but in a one-on-one setting, it works to your advantage," Johnathon finished for him. "Devious. Inspired. Lucrative…"

"Potentially," Qrow agreed as the pair reached the outside of a rather fancy looking upscale restaurant. "But before this goes any further, I've got one question, and it's a potential deal breaker. Where do you stand on the faunus, John?"

"Samuel, for now," Johnathon corrected. "As far as everyone around us is concerned, I'm a simple author, taking my nephew out to my favorite establishment."

Qrow raised his arms to fold them across his chest, and narrowed his eyes to stare Johnathon down. "Alright then, Sam. Answer the question."

Johnathon returned the look with a thoughtful one of his own, before raising a hand to slowly stroke at his ragged beard. The hair appeared to be incredibly natural and springy, despite its sudden and unexpected growth.

"It's simple, if you ask me. They're downtrodden people with just as much value as any human, and the ones with enough skill to interest me will get the same opportunities I'd give to you. I'm going to go ahead and guess that you're asking because you have one in mind that could benefit from a side job, in some way."

"Maybe I do," Qrow said dismissively. "But either way, that's good to know. I've got one more question, before we head inside and talk business."

Johnathon shrugged, and leaned forward to fold his arms atop the handle of his suitcase while letting his cane hang just off the ground in one hand. "Go on."

"…Johnathon Soleil isn't even your real name, is it?" Qrow asked while cracking his neck.

"It's about as real as Qrow Branwen," the man replied nonchalantly before turning and heading into the restaurant.

Qrow hesitated for a moment, before shivering and moving to follow.

Roman kept his eyes downcast on the plate resting in front of himself, his silverware and glass both untouched. Clinking metal echoed throughout the room as the man at the opposite end of the large table continued to eat, seemingly unbothered by the boy's lack of appetite. Roman studied his warped reflection in the polished gold of the plate before him, and found that he could see far more of himself than he would like in the mostly empty space. In the center was a single, elaborately-decorated circular dessert barely larger than the circumference of a shot glass. Despite the clear expense and effort that had clearly gone into the meal, Roman found himself pining for nothing more than a cheap Beacon cafeteria burger, as well as the company that came with it.

"…you're really just going to sit there silently? I didn't bring you home to remind myself of what you look like, Roman," the older man joked.

"Could've fooled me. You didn't bother to come and see me at all after I landed, yesterday," Roman countered as he finally looked up at his father. The boy's glare was full of resentment and annoyance, and the elder narrowed his eyes while pointing a fork at his son in a gesture of warning.

"There was business to attend to, and I also didn't bring you home to catch an earful from a youth with no professional responsibilities. If all you're going to say are ignorant remarks laced with poison, then silence will do well enough," the man replied before returning to his meal.

Roman breathed in heavily, before shaking his head and finally jabbing his fork into the center of his dessert.

"…sorry."

"Sorry what?" Roman's father prodded.

"Sorry sir," the boy corrected.

"Better," his father agreed.

Roman let out a small, frustrated grumble as he sampled the food on his fork and looked around the dining room, fixating his attention on anything but the man across the table. The table itself was set with a silken cloth of deep red, several ornate candelabras across its length, and wooden, high-backed chairs of deep mahogany. The dining hall was decorated lavishly with paintings of Roman, his father, and other, more abstract subjects, as well as an imported marble sculpture of a goddess holding a water jug over her shoulder. A uniformed house attendant stood silently beside the sculpture, his hands folded before himself as he stared straight ahead, pretending to ignore the bickering males. It was all needless, ostentatious flair that Roman had seen hundreds of times throughout his life, and he soon ran out of things to look at beyond the inevitable. Finally, he let his gaze fall to the older man sat a good fifteen feet away from him, and his face dropped into an automatic scowl.

Nero Torchwick was a slender man much like his son, though he lacked many of the boy's more attractive features. Where Roman had a unique and refined sense of style and fashion, Nero instead wore simple monochrome suits on a near constant basis. While Roman dabbled in subtle makeup and accessories, Nero's only accessory was what could be described as an orange, scruffy, unkempt sea captain's beard, which his son vehemently hated. Though Roman's lithe build appeared almost underfed and sickly, Nero's was instead tight, toned, and just shy of visibly muscular through his clothing. Everything about the man's expressions and the way he carried himself belied a sort of pride and arrogance, and Roman hated that sometimes, he felt like he was looking into a twisted mirror, rather than at his father.

"So," the man began through a mouthful of food, "tell me about school. I'm going to assume that you're keeping up with your studies and maintaining high marks, in addition to whatever else it is one does within a huntsman's academy. You're there for a reason."

"…it's been a week since classes started, Dad. Not even a full one," Roman pointed out before taking a sip of water. "I'm still trying to remember the last names of my teammates and figuring out where to put my toothbrush at night."

Nero furrowed his brows at the observation, before picking up his glass of wine and swirling it. "…has it? I suppose it has. Your 'team', then. Tell me about them. Two others with you, is it? I don't know how hunter squads work. It all seems barbaric and needless, to me."

"Three others," Roman seethed. "I've told you this multiple times, a-"

"If you think I have nothing more important on my mind, then you're sorely mistaken, boy," Nero interrupted as he picked up his scroll from beside his plate and began to tap at the buttons with his free hand. "This week alone, I've been knee-deep in business dealings and trying to arrange for the Schnee family to come to our latest gallery showcase. They're refusing to leave their stuffy manor, on account of something about yet another knuckle-dragging feral stirring up trouble within the dust mines. They should just shoot them all and be done with it, if you ask me. One human worker could outpace two of those filthy animals, and for a better price, too."

Roman sighed heavily as he busied himself with subdividing his little cake into roughly equal sections, while only half-listening. "…anyway, my team is…" Roman began, before pausing to think. The idea of lying about Kali and Adam came to him, before the former's advice about choosing paths began to resonate within his mind. Somehow, his brief exchange with the faunus girl in the hallway stuck at the forefront of his mind more than anything else he had been through at Beacon since his arrival. Roman remembered every detail and expression of her face, and something about the way she looked at him added more importance to her words than anything that came from a professor's mouth.

"Your team is what, Roman? I have an important conference call in ten minutes, and we have a party to attend shortly afterward with the Winchesters. Get on with it, while my interest still h-"

"I'm with two faunus," Roman interrupted as he raised his eyes to meet his father's in a clear challenge. "I like both of them. We're friends."

Roman visibly flinched as his father's fork fell from his hand and clattered against the plate below. "Like hell you are! Those two animals are lucky to even share a campus with someone of our bloodline, let alone a room. Keep your distance as much as possible, and keep your hands off of them. Who knows what diseases you could catch from half-breeds like that. What animals are they?"

"They're not half-breeds," Roman fumed as he spun his fork between his fingers in an effort to busy his hand and keep it from shaking with rage. "Kali has cat ears, Adam has bull horns, and Kali is beautiful. I like her, Dad."

Nero laughed out loud at the sudden revelation, and leaned back in his chair as he folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, do you? Suddenly a bleeding heart for the lesser race? Or are you just horny for something exotic and filthy? That's not the impression I've gotten from the past 18 years with you in this household."

Roman had the decency to break eye contact as he made an uncomfortable noise, and spoke in a small voice. "As if I had any choice, or any exposure, before. We don't even get to see faunus up here."

"And you don't have any choice now, either. Tell me- this Kali girl- what's her family pedigree? Where's she from? What does her family do? Do you really think that if you somehow stomached her fleas and began bringing this girl home, you'd be able to keep the Torchwick name afloat here in Atlas, after I retire? You'd lose the mansion and all of our prestige in seconds from your inexperience and her lack of contribution alone, and that's not even counting the rightful stigma that comes with being part of an interracial couple. Put it out of your mind, Roman. Now," Nero commanded.

Roman found his mind working overtime as he fought to find answers to his father's questions. "She's… she's from Kuo Kuana, and her family… I think her family hunts? They hunt grimm, out on the island. She told me she's been doing it since she was a little kid, and she could kick my ass, at least."

"So, no practical skills whatsoever, if she were to somehow make it to Atlas with you. Sounds like a gold-digging whore in the making, to me," Nero accused. "You're not doing this to the family name. Willow Schnee is your goal, and I expect you to start making a more serious effort with her, the next time you two meet. As soon as I figure out what's going on with her family, I want measurable progress at the next party at which she appears. Am I clear?"

Roman finally set down his fork, and settled for running a hand through his hair and propping his elbow upon the table to hide his smirk. "Yes, sir. I'm sure she and I will meet again soon. How about we make a deal?"

"Does that deal involve you setting aside these fetishistic delusions of impregnating a fucking cat?" Nero spat as he rose from his seat and began to tap away at his scroll once again, his eyes locked to the device.

"…yes, actually," Roman replied as he steepled his fingers and regarded his father coolly. "You get me an opportunity to speak to Willow alone at a party some weekend soon, and I'll put Kali out of my mind. It's pretty clear which of the two is a better bet, anyway, but the last few times I've run into Willow, other people have gotten in the way. Show me what the Torchwick name that I'm supposed to be protecting can do. However, if you can't manage to coax Willow down from her ivory tower within the next semester… I want to be allowed at least a legitimate shot with Kali. Call it youthful indiscretion, or whatever else you want, but I think that after you meet her, you'll see that she's more than some animal."

Nero rolled his eyes and pocketed his scroll, before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. "It seems I have to do everything for you, but I suppose that isn't really much of a surprise. I do hope that your huntsman's academy can teach you to stand on your own two feet at some point, but fine. You'll get your moment with Willow, and when you do, I expect results, boy. Now, finish your meal, and be ready to depart at the appropriate time. I have more important things to attend to than listening to your sick fantasies."

Roman watched as his father walked off down the hall, and then pushed his unfinished plate away from himself. The attendant approached the table and leaned down to collect the dish, before clearing his throat haughtily and turning to address Roman directly.

"Young master, will that be all?"

Roman narrowed his eyes as he stared off down the hall.

"For right now? Yeah. For the future, though… don't bet on it."

"Is this... entirely necessary?" Raven asked from her position seated at the edge of her bed in the STRQ dorm room. Her bare legs reached down to the floor, and she kept her arms folded in her lap atop a black-framed, handheld mirror. Her upper body and thighs were covered by a fluffy, red bathrobe.

"A hundred percent," Kali replied happily as she continued to stretch and pull Raven's hair while the victimized Branwen winced slightly. The faunus was wearing black, silken pajama bottoms, and another stolen shirt of Roman's featuring a leopard print design.

"Can you be a little less rough?" Raven growled as she looked back at the girls behind her using her handheld mirror. Kali smirked wickedly as Summer raised a brush menacingly. The leader of STRQ wore a set of fuzzy blue pajama pants and a white t-shirt emblazoned with the Beacon Academy logo.

"Maybe if you brushed your hair more than once in a lifetime, this wouldn't be so painful," Summer quipped as she continued to rake a section of the ebony strands straight before handing it over to Kali. The faunus worked to smooth out the tangles even further while dividing Raven's massive, bushy mess of hair into sections. "Don't you want to look all nice and prettied-up for our day out with Willow?"

"There is another option- we could just lop it all off, and then you'd look like us. You'd be cute with short hair. Right, Tai?" Kali asked as she shot a knowing look over her shoulder.

Taiyang Xiao Long looked up with sleepy eyes from his reclined position atop his bed. The boy wore only his cargo shorts and a grey tank top. He had a weapons magazine in his hands featuring a massive revolver on the front below the text BIG BANG in yellow block letters. Raven was facing away from him from her position on her own bed, though they managed to lock eyes within her mirror for a brief moment before she turned it to one side to break the awkward contact. Taiyang cleared his throat and hid his face behind the pages of his magazine as he concentrated his thoughts elsewhere and began to engage the active portion of his semblance.

Taiyang closed his eyes, and took a deep inhale. Within his darkened field of vision, he saw blobs of aura radiating from the space where Raven's bed would be. One bundle of aura was a pure, innocent white, and the one next to it was a deep, sultry purple. Taiyang mentally reached out and 'tapped' the two girls, only to find that they were both radiating nearly identical emotions- sheer joy. Satisfied, Taiyang withdrew his own probing aura from theirs and reached out to the third, far larger, flickering, scarlet one seated a foot away from the other two. With the gentlest of mental touches, Taiyang entwined his aura with Raven's, and was immediately overwhelmed as he felt himself get sucked into the more robust field of energy.

Time seemed to slip away as Taiyang envisioned himself as a human-shaped yellow conglomerate of aura slipping and falling over backward into a sparkling, blood-red sea. He could feel an endless series of rough-cut gemstones of deepest red raking over his entire body as carved pebbles and flecks of stone filled his throat while he tried to gasp for air. Taiyang sank deeper and deeper into the seemingly endless ocean of Raven's aura, and finally surrendered himself to its depths. Upon doing so, his emotions shifted drastically, and he reached an understanding- he felt her desperate need for his own approval within himself, as well as her fierce protectiveness of her hair. That was all he needed to know, and so, he opened his eyes, only to find Kali leaning over him while waving both of her hands in front of his face.

"Uh… Remnant to Tai? You alive in there?"

"Huh? Yeah!" Taiyang sputtered as he blinked several times and sat up. The collar of his shirt was damp with sweat, as was the hair plastered to his forehead. "Sorry, I must've just… fallen back asleep. Lazy Sunday morning, you know?"

"Uh… huh," Kali replied skeptically as she turned away and returned to Raven's bed, only to take up her brush once again. "So, what do you think? Raven with short hair, yes or no?"

Taiyang took a deep breath and wiped at his brow before clearing his throat once again. "Uh… I think Raven's hair is cool the way it is. Gorgeous, heavy, shiny… it looks good on you. Seeing it short would be kinda… upsetting. Even if you don't usually fuss with it, it still suits you."

Raven let out a breath she had been holding for what felt like minutes on end, and turned her mirror back to look at Taiyang. She gave him a rare, appreciative smile, before tilting the glass once again to avoid his eyes.

"Thank you. I only cut it when it becomes a problem, and it almost never becomes a problem."

"It's… a bit of a problem right now!" Summer protested as her brush became caught within Raven's locks. The smaller girl let out a grunt of effort as she yanked the device free, and Raven smacked a hand backward and into her thigh. "Ow!"

"You think that hurt? Think about how I feel!" Raven hissed as she shivered her shoulders. "What are you two doing back there, anyway!?"

"Detangling your hair so we can braid it, duh," Kali explained as if it was the simplest thing in the word. "We figured you wouldn't let us cut it, so the least you can do is let us give you a pretty braid. That should look cute, right Tai?" Kali sang in her most saccharine tone.

Taiyang bit his bottom lip as he finally closed his magazine, and found Raven's reflected eyes once again. Her expression cried for help, and yet, he knew very well that such a proposition couldn't hurt her.

"…yeah. Yeah, that would look cute," Taiyang agreed. "It's also really easy to undo, if you don't like it, and only for a day. Why don't you try it out, Raves?"

Whatever lingering sleepiness and the emotions he had picked up from Raven left Taiyang immediately as he was overcome with only one thought- he was a dead man. As he and Raven locked eyes again, he noticed that Summer and Kali mirrored the gesture amongst themselves. While Raven glared at him furiously, the other two girls shared looks of trying to hold back raucous laughter while neither moved to brush at Raven's hair any longer.

"Uh… I should… I should definitely get in the shower, right now," Taiyang said as he tactically slipped off the side of his bed farthest from Raven. "So I can get clean and stuff, and also be out of stabbing range. Bye!"

None of the girls spoke as Taiyang made a hasty retreat to the bathroom and closed the door behind himself. The moment the handle clicked to a locked position, Raven whirled around on the bed and raised a finger between Summer and Kali as she gripped her mirror like a deadly weapon in her other hand.

"Do. Not. Start!" she warned in a deadly serious voice. Summer and Kali exchanged a look once again before the pair of them burst into laughter. Summer fell backward onto the bed, nearly crying as she held her forearm up over her eyes, while Kali simply pointed at her scandalized friend.

"What's wrong, Ra-"she began, only to catch a pillow in the mouth.

"I hate you both," Raven groused as she slipped off of the bed and into a standing position. She undid the fuzzy belt of her robe and let the entire thing slip off onto the bed behind herself, revealing her black lingerie as she walked toward the closet. She only made it a single step before she felt a hand reach out and take her own from behind. Raven turned to look over her shoulder, only to find Kali gently gripping her fingers.

"Raven… what is that…?" Kali asked, her tone a stark, worried contrast to its original joyful lilt. The faunus pointed at the back of Raven's shoulder, where the Branwen Wing was burned into the girl's pale flesh.

"What's wh-" Summer began as she sat up, only to fall silent. The girl raised a hand to cover her mouth and lurched forward, looking as though she was going to be sick.

Raven wracked her brain for any excuse, and found that she had nothing at all in her flustered state. "I… I was…"

As Raven fell silent, Kali let her hand slip back down to her side. She slowly approached and laid her fingers atop the brand, only to begin tracing them along the shape of the winged cog.

"…you can tell us anything, you know. Who did this to you, and to Qrow?"

"To Qrow?" Summer repeated, looking between the other girls. "Qrow has one, too? Is it a Branwen thing?"

Raven tensed under Kali's touch, and found herself shivering once again as she closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

"…it's… a Branwen thing. Listen, girls… there are some things I just can't tell you right now, but… I'm working up the nerve to do so. I promise. I'm okay, Qrow's okay, and it's… really not that big of a deal. We all have our little things that we don't want to get into, you know?" Raven finished as she looked over her opposite shoulder and narrowed her eyes at Summer.

"Yeah!" Summer agreed all too quickly. "Kal, let's just… drop it, for now, as long as she's okay. She'll tell us when she's ready."

"…okay," Kali acquiesced, her voice laced with suspicion as she took a step away from the other girl. "But if you're in danger, or this means something big, I want to know."

"You will," Raven said as she walked forward and busied herself with rifling through her side of the closet. Suddenly, she froze, and narrowed her eyes at her faunus companion once again. "…and why, exactly, have you seen my brother shirtless, for that matter?"

Kali couldn't fight back her devilish grin as she raised a brow. "Why do you think?"

"Kali!"

Author's Note:

Someone's been a bad kitty.

-RD