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.]
[Slipping in a 'play nice' wouldn't do much good. Not with the answer she's about to give Victor. In fact, Chloe wouldn't be surprised if the weather took a turn for pissy with a chance of rain. ]
They give a fair heads up, yeah, but if you'd prefer something a touch more personal [what's left of her beer (barely half) is slid over and pulled from, index finger drumming out a quick beat] we've a flat not far from here with room to spare.
[Sully doesn't bother to dignify that with a response. Nerd.
Personal, eh? Promising. "We" though? Less. Explained a fair bit. It might complicate matters some, but hey, all's fair in love and war. And the space in between.]
Oh?
[He can't say he's displeased with the room they've given him, it's pretty ritzy, even if there are other stiffs crowding up the place. Still, it was best to stay out from under people's noses when you were contemplating doing things illegal, or at the very least immoral. He can't imagine the shack they've got is anywhere near as nice (most of the buildings around look dilapidated at best), but it is a generous offer. And, hell, personal. Besides, he heard something about mandatory training and he wasn't too keen on being close enough to catch for that. He'd done his duty already. He was done with that rise and shine bullshit.]
That's sweet of you. I don't want to step on any toes, though. [Obviously directed at Charlie, less obviously a lie.]
[The offer is underscored by a distinct choking noise as Charlie inhales the house draft. He slams his glass down, hand pinching at his nose and face momentarily screwed up from the pain of lager up his goddamn nose. By the time he's recovered - mostly (eyes watering, he presses a paper napkin to his upper lip) -, he finds he's mostly missed the window in which to object.
Doesn't mean he won't try though. He ignores Sully wholesale and instead addresses Chloe, bristling in a way that might be impressive if he wasn't also busy mopping spilled beer off the table.] There's no space in the flat. I'm using that room.
[He's not. But he might want to. You know, for stuff - odds and ends - books and other nonsense.]
[The choking does a fair bit to catch her attention before he even goes in to object.] 'You're using it.' [Spit out like she's having serious trouble processing his argument.]
--For what? There's nothing there but a few boxes of old junk. [Please, Charlie. Please don't tell her you're LARPing in it. Again.]
[Alright so Chloe definitely hadn't talked this over with him. Still, now that Charlie doesn't want him there he's more set on it than ever.]
This sounds like something the two of you need to work out. I'll go get another round.
[With that he pushes himself up and stubs the remainder of the cigar out on the cheap wood table, grabs Chloe's glass and Charlie's, as if an afterthought (it's still wet) before heading back to the bar.
He leans over, eyes a pretty-enough girl seated further down. When he manages to flag down refills he tips his glass to her, a lazy wink that doesn't get him as far as he'd like. Ah well. Later.]
[He opens his mouth then closes it, swallowing down whatever half cocked thing he'd been meaning to say in the first place for at least the time it takes Sully to excuse himself and pull the glasses. Charlie glances after him, holds for a moment until he's sure Sully's out of earshot, and then swings abruptly back to Chloe. He's shredding the damp napkin, leaving bits of paper all over the damp tabletop.]
No. I'll work with him, but I won't live with the man. I don't want him in our flat.
Charlie, this isn't some nobody stepping in to help us with a gig - it's Victor Sullivan. [Victor, who's been Nate's family for ages, who had her back when she came calling with the idea of greasing a few palms to get his pseudo-son out of the mess Harry'd stuck him in, that-- pulled a gun on Charlie in Syria and saw no problem with taking his head off.
All right, fair point.
Chloe cants her own head enough to catch sight of Victor while he's still well out of earshot, keeps her attention fixed on him as she concedes.] No rooming up, but he's still coming over to manage the details of a job or two. [a beat. she's spotted the mess he's currently scattering across his end of the table, it earns a gentle nudge with the toe of her boot.] Unless you feel like emptying your wallet on cheap beer every time we catch a new one.
{Sully turns to see if they've finished their little lover's tiff and leans against the bar (looks good but bad idea, shirt's gonna smell like sour beer buddy). He catches Chloe looking at him and smiles wide before re-directing his attention back to the pretty-enough girl.
Not quite done yet.]
Grant me the pleasure of buying a beautiful woman a drink?
[Alright probably not going to hit a home-run with this one, but he just wants to buy a little more time, anyway. He can always come back later. He flags down the bartender and manages not to call him "guv".]
[That's fine. He can put up with the old-- the man for the length of time it takes to mull over a job's layout. But he won't tolerate living in the same space as him. You can't make him do it, Chloe.]
Deal. [Chloe elbows him as something for a substitute for a proper handshake - and also to smooth at least some of his bristling fur. Uses the pull back from it to swat away some of the scraps he's left laying about.]
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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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They give a fair heads up, yeah, but if you'd prefer something a touch more personal [what's left of her beer (barely half) is slid over and pulled from, index finger drumming out a quick beat] we've a flat not far from here with room to spare.
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Personal, eh? Promising. "We" though? Less. Explained a fair bit. It might complicate matters some, but hey, all's fair in love and war. And the space in between.]
Oh?
[He can't say he's displeased with the room they've given him, it's pretty ritzy, even if there are other stiffs crowding up the place. Still, it was best to stay out from under people's noses when you were contemplating doing things illegal, or at the very least immoral. He can't imagine the shack they've got is anywhere near as nice (most of the buildings around look dilapidated at best), but it is a generous offer. And, hell, personal. Besides, he heard something about mandatory training and he wasn't too keen on being close enough to catch for that. He'd done his duty already. He was done with that rise and shine bullshit.]
That's sweet of you. I don't want to step on any toes, though. [Obviously directed at Charlie, less obviously a lie.]
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Doesn't mean he won't try though. He ignores Sully wholesale and instead addresses Chloe, bristling in a way that might be impressive if he wasn't also busy mopping spilled beer off the table.] There's no space in the flat. I'm using that room.
[He's not. But he might want to. You know, for stuff - odds and ends - books and other nonsense.]
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--For what? There's nothing there but a few boxes of old junk. [Please, Charlie. Please don't tell her you're LARPing in it. Again.]
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Hey pal, easy.
[Alright so Chloe definitely hadn't talked this over with him. Still, now that Charlie doesn't want him there he's more set on it than ever.]
This sounds like something the two of you need to work out. I'll go get another round.
[With that he pushes himself up and stubs the remainder of the cigar out on the cheap wood table, grabs Chloe's glass and Charlie's, as if an afterthought (it's still wet) before heading back to the bar.
He leans over, eyes a pretty-enough girl seated further down. When he manages to flag down refills he tips his glass to her, a lazy wink that doesn't get him as far as he'd like. Ah well. Later.]
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No. I'll work with him, but I won't live with the man. I don't want him in our flat.
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All right, fair point.
Chloe cants her own head enough to catch sight of Victor while he's still well out of earshot, keeps her attention fixed on him as she concedes.] No rooming up, but he's still coming over to manage the details of a job or two. [a beat. she's spotted the mess he's currently scattering across his end of the table, it earns a gentle nudge with the toe of her boot.] Unless you feel like emptying your wallet on cheap beer every time we catch a new one.
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Not quite done yet.]
Grant me the pleasure of buying a beautiful woman a drink?
[Alright probably not going to hit a home-run with this one, but he just wants to buy a little more time, anyway. He can always come back later. He flags down the bartender and manages not to call him "guv".]
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Fine. But in and out. Deal?
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