[All things considered things could be worse. Had been worse. And this was far from the shittiest dive he'd been in. He wasn't quite sure this was the brightest goddamn idea, either. He'd just gotten here, and the possibilities for bad behavior were endless. But it couldn't hurt to hear the proposition, and at the very least he'd get a drink out of it. And some pleasant company.
The girl was that, at least. He could hardly believe the kid would ever be capable enough to catch the attentions of a woman that fine, but she said she knew Nate, knew more about the kid than she could possibly invent (some of it more than he needed to know). Come to think of it, she knew more about him than she could invent. That was promising.
He pushed his way through the half-exploded door and into the darkness of the bar, took in the sights. Not the most cheerful looking place, but no one seemed actively hostile, even few hugely drunk patrons were more sugar than spice. And his new prospective partner.]
Chloe! Good to see you. Is one of those for me?
[He swings himself into the chair opposite, one arm thrown over the back, knees loose. Carefully casual.
Oh, sure. [Chloe shifts upright, taking the opportunity to give a quick nod off in the direction of the glass closest to him. Condensation's quickly forming along the outer edge; it's not a stale beer by any measure.] So long as you don't mind it coming out of your cut of the profits.
[Which is when she flashes a toothy grin, rapping a few knuckles against the table as her way of confessing that she's only having a laugh at his expense. If she's bothered by his appearance - if she's dwelling on the knowledge of what she remembers versus the memories he's lacking - she sure as hell isn't bothering to show it.] Settling in all right?
[Sully laughs; easy enough. She's got a mouth on her. He palms the cool glass across the table and throws it back. It's passable, good enough for government work. Hah.]
Are we talking business already? Shame.
[The question gives him pause. This place is... Strange. Not much shittier than other places he'd been, but definitely different. Destitute, but they goddamn gave money away in the vague hope it would earn them enough good-will to change the world. He couldn't complain, he wasn't used to having money thrown at him, although he was well-versed in the reverse.]
Aw, can't complain. The food's fine, no ones trying to kill me yet, and I can't fault the view.
[He raises his eyebrow and his glass; it's cheesy, he knows it.]
[If pressed, Charlie'd admit that they've needed another set of hands for a while; business has been surprisingly brisk. Not that he has an obligation to be pleased about it. Whether Chloe's vetted the newbie or not, there's likely still to be a lot of babysitting involved. Three guesses as to who'll be responsible for it (and the first two don't count).
So maybe he's not in the best mood to start with when he shoulders in past the lugs crowding the door. It takes no more than a quick skim of the dive to lay eyes on Chloe and-- Christ, just look at that Tom Selleck impersonator. By the time Charlie pulls a chair out for himself, he's wearing the edge of a grin.]
Where'd you dig this one up? [Because she can't be serious.]
Heard that one before-- [Because she has, from his mouth no less. Little inside joke that doesn't have time to set before Charlie's scraping up a seat beside them with the sort of smirk that only serves to broaden her own.] Nice of you to join us.
Nineteen eighty-five, eighty-six. Somewhere around there, yeah? [Cut her some slack; it's the best guess she can manage off the top of her head without bothering to glance at Victor's drivers license.]
[He gave the newcomer a quick once-over from the edge of his glass. Not much to see. Muscle, if he had to take a guess, no wonder she was looking for another set of hands. It didn't bode well for the success of the meeting. He tended to avoid jobs that required muscle. Too much trouble from the get-go, the best work left your hands clean. Or cleanish. But, hell, free beer, even if it didn't pan out.]
Ha, you know what they say about asking a lady her age? Well, close enough anyhow.
[He offers the other man his hand, prepared for one of those good honest handshakes he had mastered. The first thing a crook learns is an honest hand shake.]
Victor Sullivan, I take it you're her partner? She's quite a catch.
Ooh, vintage. [Bless, she's found them a spot of entertainment: an office pet.
Charlie's pulls the remaining pint towards himself, all easy angles. He's halfway through a pull of his beer (mostly foam) and more than amenable to a proper, honest handshake when the words actually connect and his hand seizes up halfway across the table. He shoots Chloe a sidelong glance - an unspoken "Ah," - and slowly moves to accept Victor goddamn Sullivan's bloody handshake.]
She's something alright. [Like looking for trouble.] Cutter. Charlie.
[Chloe doesn't say a word, opting to bury her mouth right down against the rim of her glass while the name Sullivan settles in under Charlie's skin. Poor bastard. It's not much of a secret that the pair mix about as well as oil and water on a good day. The fact that she could've been kind enough to give him at least the courtesy of a little warning hasn't escaped her-- and by this point, she's guessing it hasn't on Charlie's end, either.
Oops.]
Easy lads, flattery will only get you everywhere.
[And it should be odd, sitting opposite to a Victor Sullivan that's about twenty or so years too young to be recognizable, but time in Exsilium isn't exactly a consistent sort of creature; they've met once before. She was younger, sure, but the memories stayed stuck in, made the idea of calling this disreputable business meeting that much easier than it otherwise might've been.]
Look, we all know the Initiative gives us a reasonable allowance. Whether reasonable's enough to keep any of us happy, though...
[The momentary hesitation doesn't escape him. Interesting. Another future acquaintance? He hated to think he'd change that much. Possibly it was just that the girl had mentioned him. That was a much more pleasant thought. Keep dreaming buddy.]
Good to meet ya.
[The mystery isn't enough to keep his attention for long, not with Chloe staring him down. And not with the scent of money in the air. ]
Fair enough, the best things in life might be free, but it's funny the things money can buy. Or can't, around here.
[He fishes a cigar out from a pocket, glowers at it. From what he'd managed to parse finding quality like this here was going to be difficult. But tomorrow was another day. He flicked his lighter open, smiled around the last piece of civilization he was likely to find.]
[Loathe as he is to admit it, they could do for worse partners than Victor Sullivan - if this version of Sully is anything like the one Charlie knows. Sure, the old man's a pain in his ass and more mouth than brains but he's not dead (yet). That's something nearly like a respectable resume.
--But he'd also rather eat month old bolgogi made with mystery meat than cop to that.
Charlie gives the cigar a dismissive gesture, an overplayed 'but of course' wave of the hand:] Wouldn't dream of anything else. [He takes a long pull from his pint and looks to Chloe, arching an eyebrow. Yes Chloe, that is what they're here for, isn't it?]
Hell yes. [Chloe shifts upright, scoots herself over to the edge of her seat and slides her half-empty glass off till there's room enough to lean in on her elbows and complete the stereotypical scene of 'thieves plotting in a seedy pub at midnight' ]
The locals aren't particularly fond of us these days, meaning there's a bloody boatload of transports looking to get their hands on-- well, just about anything. Charlie and I have been doing all right on our own, but given our [she flicks an upturned index finger back and forth between her end of the table and Victor's] history-- [future? Whatever.] I thought you might like the thought of getting in on the action.
[Sully mirrors her position, or close enough, she had a head-start on her drink and he's not willing to push it out of the way, yet.
He's not surprised about the locals, even the ones trying to sell him things had only the thinnest veneer of politeness, and he wasn't drunk enough yet to miss that yet. Knowing when you weren't welcome was a fairly important skill. Ignoring it, of course, was always an option. ]
That so?
[He grins as salaciously as possible at the word history. If she was going to keep pitching him slow-balls he had no choice but to hit them]
I'm always up for a little action. What exactly is your game? I don't figure there's a huge market for ancient Chinese brickabrack here.
[Not one to be left out, Charlie shifts his weight forward onto his elbows as well. It's not a wide table; there's a convenient side effect of interposing between the two of them as he does it.]
It's more smuggling than anything. The Initiative nominally lets you cart nonsense back from missions - so clients hire us out, we pull an assignment from the higher ups that seems promising, and bang [--he punctuates it with a sharp gesture--] kill two birds with one stone. Gets us off the bloody island and earns us something off the back end: win, win.
[Exactly. Charlie covers the details perfectly, and if Chloe knows Victor Sullivan (and she does quite well, thank you very much) the matter of persuading him is more speed bump than mountain. There's money, there's criminal activity, and there's--
Cigar or not, where he mirrors her positioning, she mirrors that toothy grin, drumming her fingertips against the edge of the table with her chin held high and her eyes aimed low.
[Sully doesn't back up even when Charlie ends up in his space, although he does get the message. Or part of it. Smuggling's well and good, but despite the confidence this Cutter fella has, things don't sound entirely smooth sailing. Apparently the guys not JUST muscle. He decides to watch him a little closer.]
Or lose, lose. It's two jobs in one. Twice the risk.
[Twice the reward, too. It's a gamble, but he does love betting against the house. He's really just putting up a front, anyway. He doesn't have anything better to do, and setting up his own network here seems like a hellavalot more work than just using theirs. Hell, no risk no goddamn reward. Besides, he can read Chloe's dance card. He knows the minx is playing him, but it's a fun game.]
Ah screw it. I'm in, life's too short to let it pass you by. I take it by the pitch you've already got something in mind?
[No risk, no reward. It's probably lucky for everyone involved that Charlie doesn't make note of the shared -- whatever -- passing between the two of them. Instead, he sets his beer aside and pulls up his tablet. It's not a map spread across his dining table, but there's still something pleasantly nostalgic about all of this.
With a few quick strokes, Charlie pulls up a cross-referenced list.] Let's skip the bloke looking for an exotic fish-- Ah. [He turns the tablet slightly.] There. Some eccentric wants to get their hands on a Stradivarius. If we can pull a mission near Oxford, round 2003-- there's a dealer we could nick it from.
A stradiwhat? [She's not bothering to glance at the tablet (no amount of curiosity's enough to have her awkwardly stooping over to have a look at what amounts to a remarkably durable book here in the future; too much nerd for her tastes) but her attention roams over to settle firmly on Charlie instead while she waits for the usual show and tell. Shift in scenery aside, it's familiar enough that she half expects Nate to bull rush in with his own definition, hoping to beat Charlie to the draw.]
[Sounded close enough for strategy. Besides, eccentrics were always looking for books. Never sat well with him, why bother when there's gold, jade, you know, things that hold their value and don't rot away.]
Not that it matters, the real question is, you got a way to Oxford? I mean I'm sure we could walk the distance [He's not sure] but we might have trouble with the time.
[He imagines waiting for 2003 to roll around. Then he remembers that it would have to roll backwards. Damn. He balances his cigar between his fingers long enough to finish his drink. He's going to need it.]
I mean, I'm not doubting your pull [Aimed firmly at Charlie] but far as I gathered they just roulette you off to some backwater to step on a butterfly. You got a method for getting where we need to get?
[He takes a long drag, realizes he's letting his cigar go to waste. Stupid mistake, there. Too distracted to really appreciate it.]
[There's a pointed moment in which Charlie's hand floats toward the bridge of his nose. He pinches there - can feel the distinct stab of a headache right above his fingers - and breathes out. Christ. Does this make him a martyr or something?
A masochist, maybe.] --No. No it's not a book, you-- it's a violin. You know: bit of wood with strings you saw on to make music. [He makes a few exaggerated hand motions, splitting a derisive look between the two of them.]
But you're right: the missions are mostly random. Hence the list. [Charlie taps the tablet, defaulting back to the list in question. It's not short.] The more specific ones aren't terribly time sensitive - the mission dictates the job. [He shrugs. Jumping through time isn't an exact science, alright?] That said if we get close enough to the fiddle, we'd each get about 15k.
[Which is chump change compared what to the thing's valued at, but astronomical in this economy. Nothing to scoff at anyway - and theoretically worth the wait. Bonus points as there was virtually no risk. If they somehow boffed it, they'd wind up back here with reasonably little skin off their backs.]
['What?' is the look he earns for his fuss. Christ, it's not like everyone in the world spends the entirety of their day memorizing Britannica for fun.]
Not to mention the spending money the Initiative passes out for the mission itself. You lads can use it however you like but I am so going for a solid lunch at the Greens.
[He's obviously not angry, more amused. Clearly not just muscle. Too keen. Sully liked to keep distance between his work and his play, but not everyone had such fantastic coping mechanisms.
He whistled. Although he hadn't quite nailed out the particulars of the local economy 15K seemed more than respectable for a fiddle. Especially in what amounted to a third-world country. That had to sting Cutter, if his accent was anything to go by.]
Nice. Tempting. The list is good, too. But-
[He takes another puff, tries to organize his thoughts. He doesn't necessarily want to step on their toes, but he's not willing to jump into this blind.]
-Well, I mean, it doesn't leave a lot of time to planning, does it? You get a mission and figure what fits. I'm not saying I don't trust you two [He doesn't]. I mean, I trust the kid's a good judge of character [No he doesn't], but I don't know you. I don't know how you work. I'm not sweet on jumping in ass-first without getting a good handle on how things are going to work.
[He doesn't want to throw this opportunity away, either. Opportunities. Still, he doesn't know these two from Adam. But-]
Alright, how about this- anything worth stealing here?
[Oh for--] Do you really think we'd be messing about with all of this if there was anything worth stealing here? [Charlie stabs the tablet pointedly with his forefinger.]
Look, if you're not game that's just fine with me. You want to do a test run? Sure. But we do it our way. [He throws Chloe a glance, head and eyebrow cocked. Right? Tell the man he's being a git.]
[Don't worry, Charlie. The old man might have a full head of hair ahead of you, but Chloe's still at your back. Side. Look, whichever way the table's arranged, she's not about to let Victor think this is amateur hour.]
Trust me, darling, we're not going to force you to play along. If you'd rather stay here in all of this-- [one small, quick gesture to their barely standing surroundings] you're more than welcome to.
Or...you could come with us, catch a glimpse of the future, have a little fun and pass the docket onto someone else. Your call.
[Satisfied or at least soothed (he's still glowering a bit, brow furrowed marginally), Charlie settles back in his chair and slides his pint back in front of him. If Sully'd rather hear it from her, that's fine by him.
--Though he can't help but take a petty dig anyway.] Tablet. It's a tablet. [Seems like the sort of thing Sully should be familiar with having grown up in the stone age and all.]
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Re: Here's to new beginnings
The girl was that, at least. He could hardly believe the kid would ever be capable enough to catch the attentions of a woman that fine, but she said she knew Nate, knew more about the kid than she could possibly invent (some of it more than he needed to know). Come to think of it, she knew more about him than she could invent. That was promising.
He pushed his way through the half-exploded door and into the darkness of the bar, took in the sights. Not the most cheerful looking place, but no one seemed actively hostile, even few hugely drunk patrons were more sugar than spice. And his new prospective partner.]
Chloe! Good to see you. Is one of those for me?
[He swings himself into the chair opposite, one arm thrown over the back, knees loose. Carefully casual.
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[Which is when she flashes a toothy grin, rapping a few knuckles against the table as her way of confessing that she's only having a laugh at his expense. If she's bothered by his appearance - if she's dwelling on the knowledge of what she remembers versus the memories he's lacking - she sure as hell isn't bothering to show it.] Settling in all right?
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Are we talking business already? Shame.
[The question gives him pause. This place is... Strange. Not much shittier than other places he'd been, but definitely different. Destitute, but they goddamn gave money away in the vague hope it would earn them enough good-will to change the world. He couldn't complain, he wasn't used to having money thrown at him, although he was well-versed in the reverse.]
Aw, can't complain. The food's fine, no ones trying to kill me yet, and I can't fault the view.
[He raises his eyebrow and his glass; it's cheesy, he knows it.]
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So maybe he's not in the best mood to start with when he shoulders in past the lugs crowding the door. It takes no more than a quick skim of the dive to lay eyes on Chloe and-- Christ, just look at that Tom Selleck impersonator. By the time Charlie pulls a chair out for himself, he's wearing the edge of a grin.]
Where'd you dig this one up? [Because she can't be serious.]
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Nineteen eighty-five, eighty-six. Somewhere around there, yeah? [Cut her some slack; it's the best guess she can manage off the top of her head without bothering to glance at Victor's drivers license.]
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Ha, you know what they say about asking a lady her age? Well, close enough anyhow.
[He offers the other man his hand, prepared for one of those good honest handshakes he had mastered. The first thing a crook learns is an honest hand shake.]
Victor Sullivan, I take it you're her partner? She's quite a catch.
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Charlie's pulls the remaining pint towards himself, all easy angles. He's halfway through a pull of his beer (mostly foam) and more than amenable to a proper, honest handshake when the words actually connect and his hand seizes up halfway across the table. He shoots Chloe a sidelong glance - an unspoken "Ah," - and slowly moves to accept Victor goddamn Sullivan's bloody handshake.]
She's something alright. [Like looking for trouble.] Cutter. Charlie.
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Oops.]
Easy lads, flattery will only get you everywhere.
[And it should be odd, sitting opposite to a Victor Sullivan that's about twenty or so years too young to be recognizable, but time in Exsilium isn't exactly a consistent sort of creature; they've met once before. She was younger, sure, but the memories stayed stuck in, made the idea of calling this disreputable business meeting that much easier than it otherwise might've been.]
Look, we all know the Initiative gives us a reasonable allowance. Whether reasonable's enough to keep any of us happy, though...
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Keep dreaming buddy.]
Good to meet ya.
[The mystery isn't enough to keep his attention for long, not with Chloe staring him down. And not with the scent of money in the air. ]
Fair enough, the best things in life might be free, but it's funny the things money can buy. Or can't, around here.
[He fishes a cigar out from a pocket, glowers at it. From what he'd managed to parse finding quality like this here was going to be difficult. But tomorrow was another day. He flicked his lighter open, smiled around the last piece of civilization he was likely to find.]
You don't mind.
[It's not a question.]
I take it that's what we're here to discuss?
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--But he'd also rather eat month old bolgogi made with mystery meat than cop to that.
Charlie gives the cigar a dismissive gesture, an overplayed 'but of course' wave of the hand:] Wouldn't dream of anything else. [He takes a long pull from his pint and looks to Chloe, arching an eyebrow. Yes Chloe, that is what they're here for, isn't it?]
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The locals aren't particularly fond of us these days, meaning there's a bloody boatload of transports looking to get their hands on-- well, just about anything. Charlie and I have been doing all right on our own, but given our [she flicks an upturned index finger back and forth between her end of the table and Victor's] history-- [future? Whatever.] I thought you might like the thought of getting in on the action.
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He's not surprised about the locals, even the ones trying to sell him things had only the thinnest veneer of politeness, and he wasn't drunk enough yet to miss that yet. Knowing when you weren't welcome was a fairly important skill. Ignoring it, of course, was always an option. ]
That so?
[He grins as salaciously as possible at the word history. If she was going to keep pitching him slow-balls he had no choice but to hit them]
I'm always up for a little action. What exactly is your game? I don't figure there's a huge market for ancient Chinese brickabrack here.
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It's more smuggling than anything. The Initiative nominally lets you cart nonsense back from missions - so clients hire us out, we pull an assignment from the higher ups that seems promising, and bang [--he punctuates it with a sharp gesture--] kill two birds with one stone. Gets us off the bloody island and earns us something off the back end: win, win.
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Cigar or not, where he mirrors her positioning, she mirrors that toothy grin, drumming her fingertips against the edge of the table with her chin held high and her eyes aimed low.
He's so in.]
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Or lose, lose. It's two jobs in one. Twice the risk.
[Twice the reward, too. It's a gamble, but he does love betting against the house. He's really just putting up a front, anyway. He doesn't have anything better to do, and setting up his own network here seems like a hellavalot more work than just using theirs. Hell, no risk no goddamn reward. Besides, he can read Chloe's dance card. He knows the minx is playing him, but it's a fun game.]
Ah screw it. I'm in, life's too short to let it pass you by. I take it by the pitch you've already got something in mind?
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With a few quick strokes, Charlie pulls up a cross-referenced list.] Let's skip the bloke looking for an exotic fish-- Ah. [He turns the tablet slightly.] There. Some eccentric wants to get their hands on a Stradivarius. If we can pull a mission near Oxford, round 2003-- there's a dealer we could nick it from.
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[Sounded close enough for strategy. Besides, eccentrics were always looking for books. Never sat well with him, why bother when there's gold, jade, you know, things that hold their value and don't rot away.]
Not that it matters, the real question is, you got a way to Oxford? I mean I'm sure we could walk the distance [He's not sure] but we might have trouble with the time.
[He imagines waiting for 2003 to roll around. Then he remembers that it would have to roll backwards. Damn. He balances his cigar between his fingers long enough to finish his drink. He's going to need it.]
I mean, I'm not doubting your pull [Aimed firmly at Charlie] but far as I gathered they just roulette you off to some backwater to step on a butterfly. You got a method for getting where we need to get?
[He takes a long drag, realizes he's letting his cigar go to waste. Stupid mistake, there. Too distracted to really appreciate it.]
More important, what's the cut?
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A masochist, maybe.] --No. No it's not a book, you-- it's a violin. You know: bit of wood with strings you saw on to make music. [He makes a few exaggerated hand motions, splitting a derisive look between the two of them.]
But you're right: the missions are mostly random. Hence the list. [Charlie taps the tablet, defaulting back to the list in question. It's not short.] The more specific ones aren't terribly time sensitive - the mission dictates the job. [He shrugs. Jumping through time isn't an exact science, alright?] That said if we get close enough to the fiddle, we'd each get about 15k.
[Which is chump change compared what to the thing's valued at, but astronomical in this economy. Nothing to scoff at anyway - and theoretically worth the wait. Bonus points as there was virtually no risk. If they somehow boffed it, they'd wind up back here with reasonably little skin off their backs.]
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Not to mention the spending money the Initiative passes out for the mission itself. You lads can use it however you like but I am so going for a solid lunch at the Greens.
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[He's obviously not angry, more amused. Clearly not just muscle. Too keen. Sully liked to keep distance between his work and his play, but not everyone had such fantastic coping mechanisms.
He whistled. Although he hadn't quite nailed out the particulars of the local economy 15K seemed more than respectable for a fiddle. Especially in what amounted to a third-world country. That had to sting Cutter, if his accent was anything to go by.]
Nice. Tempting. The list is good, too. But-
[He takes another puff, tries to organize his thoughts. He doesn't necessarily want to step on their toes, but he's not willing to jump into this blind.]
-Well, I mean, it doesn't leave a lot of time to planning, does it? You get a mission and figure what fits. I'm not saying I don't trust you two [He doesn't]. I mean, I trust the kid's a good judge of character [No he doesn't], but I don't know you. I don't know how you work. I'm not sweet on jumping in ass-first without getting a good handle on how things are going to work.
[He doesn't want to throw this opportunity away, either. Opportunities. Still, he doesn't know these two from Adam. But-]
Alright, how about this- anything worth stealing here?
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Look, if you're not game that's just fine with me. You want to do a test run? Sure. But we do it our way. [He throws Chloe a glance, head and eyebrow cocked. Right? Tell the man he's being a git.]
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Trust me, darling, we're not going to force you to play along. If you'd rather stay here in all of this-- [one small, quick gesture to their barely standing surroundings] you're more than welcome to.
Or...you could come with us, catch a glimpse of the future, have a little fun and pass the docket onto someone else. Your call.
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Woah there tiger. I got it, it's your operation.
[Despite the assertion he turns to address Chloe again. A more pleasant option.]
So darlin', what is the plan precisely?
[He finishes off his beer and pushes it aside. Wonders if a refill is off the table.
Should I just wait for word from you on this little- [He fishes the tablet out of his pocket, scooting the chair back in the process.]
pager-thing?
[Come on Sully, at least try for "cell phone".]
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--Though he can't help but take a petty dig anyway.] Tablet. It's a tablet. [Seems like the sort of thing Sully should be familiar with having grown up in the stone age and all.]
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