undergrounds | [open] bars & bookstores

ONE

Arthur has visited a number of used book stores in the past year. Sometimes he wanders into them when he has a few minutes to spare on his way to and from the train, and on occasion he makes a point to visit one and sift through their collections to find something interesting. He'll read just about anything, but his old client taught him what to look for in everything from old fairytales to modern journals, how to see the clues left behind by the supernatural world that no one would pick up on if they didn't already know. Arthur is accumulating a small bookshelf's worth of books with high-lighted passages, with everything from children's nursery rhymes to new journalism from the 60's and 70's.

That's where he is now, standing outside of a small storefront on a sunny day, looking down at a bin of cheap books for something that he might be able to analyze just for fun. It'd be a shame if someone were to interrupt him.

TWO

Arthur's not a guy who hangs out at a bar alone for an hour by choice. Maybe this is obvious by his slouched posture and frown as he stares down at the remainder of his second beer, some shitty draught that seemed a safe choice when he arrived. Having politely rebuffed all of the bartender's attempts at conversation, he must look stood up - and he has been, only not for a date. He was supposed to meet a witch here, someone who could offer a bit of a different insight into what's been going on with Circle Midnight, but she never showed.

He knows he can't expect everyone to be perfectly punctual, but Arthur's in the process of giving up hope that she'll ever walk in. He checks his phone to confirm that it has indeed been fifty eight minutes since he sat down, and then he sighs as he puts it back in his pocket. Guess it's time to polish off this crappy beer that he paid too much for and then head out - that is, unless someone else happens to distract him.

WILDCARD

[Please hit me up if you'd like a different situation!]

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"Not a lot, especially given the embargo on the, ah... Dark arts. But if Redbright gets enough territory under her belt, she can effectively lock us out of London altogether." He takes a swig of his beer, looking mighty perturbed.

He is aware that it may sound like an overreaction on the fae side of things - having to travel like everyone else is hardly the end of the world, but it's an affront. And one has to wonder how long it'll be until they figure out how to prevent fae magic or ward them off from particular areas altogether.

"Either way, I imagine Redbright's too busy being enraged by Midnight to move against us just yet."

He sits up again, taking his cue from Eames to take a drink.

"Maybe Midnight will keep her distracted. If they keep growing... you never know, it might pay to find allies. Even among the witches. The enemy of my enemy..."

Arthur doesn't bother to finish the saying, waving it off instead.

"Oh, might it?" He raises his eyebrows at Arthur, tone just a hair shy of mocking. He's already got that in mind, it's really just a matter of figuring out which witch to ingratiate himself with.

"Yes," Arthur says, electing not to tell Eames to shut the hell up, "it might."

He swirls his drink idly, trying not to be annoyed and failing, as is betrayed by his tone when he continues speaking. "I assume you already have some contacts in Circle Midnight."

"You'd be correct." Delighted as Eames always is to get under Arthur's skin, he doesn't seem to enjoy the moment for long. Absently tapping his fingers against the bottle in his hand as he thinks about this whole... Situation.

"Fragmented as they still are, however..." He sighs, "'connections' aren't too useful unless they're one of the coven leaders."

Arthur shrugs. "Maybe. When it comes to getting information I don't always want the coven leaders knowing that I'm poking around. They'll start to want loyalty if they think I know too much."

"These ones are young. Already biting off more than they can chew." Eames leans back on his seat a little, raising an eyebrow in thought. They can expect all they want, doesn't mean they're in any position to demand it.

He sighs and takes another swig of his beer, "anyway. Surely you'd love to chance to play bodyguard for some witches again."

Frowning, Arthur shakes his head.

"That would mean compromising what I'm doing at Hillingdon. These covens are big enough to protect themselves, and they have the Night Council to appeal to if they're under threat. The witch I worked for was alone - and always finding trouble."

"The Council would never help them, and you know it." Eames sighs as if he thinks this is some great tragedy, (he doesn't,) "I suppose if they can't count on you or the Council to protect them, then some friendly Unseelie will have to fill the gap."

"At least you stand something to gain from it," he says. "Although, if a coven leader was to hire me..."

He falls into thought, considering this possibility. It's a bit farfetched, the idea of being hired on as a bodyguard, but it would give him an inside track as far as Circle Midnight is concerned and he might even be able to get a hand in some of the politics from behind the scenes.

"It's worth thinking about." Eames swirls his drink thoughtfully. Arthur's kind of a wildcard - they have a good enough business relationship, but he's not exactly what Eames would call a 'loyal ally'. Having an associate on the inside, though. Furthermore, one he doesn't have to pretend to be nice and benevolent and fish for information with... That could be useful.

He tips his drink in Arthur's direction, "Widdowson's old money, I'm sure she can afford your rates."

"It's just a hypothetical for now," he tells Eames, taking another drink. He'd rather not share all his potential plans with him for now, but he has to admit it's a good idea. He's already thinking about the best way to get to Widdowson, the best way to pitch his services... but he's had one too many drinks to seriously consider it right now.

Arthur looks around the bar again, as if he's expecting the witch who stood him up to walk in at last. No such luck. He'd leave, but he still has half a drink to finish - so he takes another long swig of beer.

[open] bars & bookstores

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