undergrounds | [closed to nancy & norrell] [forward-dated]

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[closed to nancy & norrell] [forward-dated]

Childermass noticed them during the territory claim for Lewisham, and he notices them around in the area soon thereafter, stirring up trouble. Street urchins. Gangs of boys. Not dissimilar to one of the gangs that he grew up in himself, all things considered. Having grown up in one of them, he knows that it's not just 'kids being kids', as he watches them work together to wreak their havoc.

There's no reason for him to interfere so Childermass merely watches. Takes note on what targets they're making, the techniques they use to stir up trouble. He doesn't really make anything of it one way or another until they cross into Lambeth and then Norrell flies into a tizzy. Orders flying around to fix this, Childermass, they must be stopped, this must be stopped! So Childermass does as he's told and heads out to investigate further. Discovering a pattern to their movements, and while he cannot track the source of who may be giving them their instructions, he does notice them associating with a certain woman on more than a few occasions to be coincidence.

Having been a child like them before, he knows that questioning them will be no help. But questioning her, on the other hand. It seems a bit more promising of a prospect. Nancy, he discovers her name to be. A streetwalker, as it turns out, although he could have pinned that from the promiscuous way that she dresses more than half the times he spots her. It's enough to give him an idea...

He takes the car this time. He knows what kind of an image it makes, that from the chrome plating to the leather seats it's practically dripping money. He makes certain not to seem like he's not too interested, that he cruises his way through the ladies on the street before he finds his way to Nancy, rolling down the window and tipping his hat at her as a way of beckoning her forth. "Ma'am..."

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Childermass rolls his eyes at Norrell's looks. He's immune to the other man's annoyances at this point -- if anything they only irritate him. And he did his job, and did it well. Got her here, no fuss, no fight. She'd even walked herself into the room. Norrell needed to talk to her, and he'd provided him with the means. He can be upset about it all he likes, but fact is fact. Norrell will pay her. And they will get their answers.

"I think you are lying," Childermass says, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder and force her down again. He has been watching her face as she talks. Watching her make her demands and playing it tough, but Childermass can read a face. And the purse of her lips tells him that they have struck a nerve. "I have seen you with them. The boys. They are making trouble in the territory. A lot of trouble. And you and I both know that they are not acting of their own accord."

He shoots Childermass a slightly uneasy look as he forces Nancy back down into her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of force going into this all. Norrell is not a man who is good at asserting himself when challenged, not a man of great personal strength.

"You will have what you are offered," he says, and that is most certainly not something stronger. A servant appears at the door a moment, approaches when beckoned and listens to Norrell's quiet request before vanishing away again to fetch drinks -- Norrell still regarding Nancy hesitantly. He is equal parts loathe to speak with her and really quite impatient to find out what she might know. "They are not your friends," he says finally, "fae cannot be trusted. If you have been threatened by them we may be able to help."

Nancy resists, of course, but in the end, Childermass has considerable strength over hers, and she's sitting front and center. They were going to hold her against her will after luring her here under false pretenses? They could add kidnapping to their rap-sheet then.

This didn't add up. Norrell had her here to see what she knew, to see if he could help her with her alleged fae problem. "Why?" She crosses her arms across her ample chest. "Why bring me here against my will to ask if I need help. Because they're not my friends- you're absolutely right about that; they're my brothers." For all intents and purposes, of course. Raised by the very same man. Hurt by him, as well, she had no doubt. The fae amongst them, the humans, he hurt them all, used them to further his own goals.

Childermass does not pay Norrell's look any particular heed. He is accustomed to needing to take charge of a situation, when necessary. For all that Norrell gives his orders, there are certain areas in which he certainly finds himself lacking. Assertion, for one. Situations like this, for example. Childermass wonders how Norrell might do if he did step out of the room. He doubts that he'd need to fear for the other man's safety at all, but. He has no doubt that Nancy might walk over him.

"Your brothers," he repeats, keeping his hand on her shoulder for a moment before he is certain that she's not going to fight him anymore, before putting it on the back of her chair. He has a feeling they are her brothers in the same way that the children that Childermass had worked with on the streets were his siblings as well. "They are causing trouble, these brothers of yours. Organized trouble." He glances to Norrell, trying to determine what it is that the man wants out of this exchange, whether to give him full rein of it once more, before deciding he'd better stay on as he is. "Trouble that would benefit the fae. Now why would that be?"

"Revenge," Norrell insists, with all the tact of someone who has never heard the phrase 'don't lead the witness'. "It must be, I know it. The fae have taken far too much territory in the south of London, and now they are angry at me. They see me as a threat. Sylvia has been idle too long, she is complacent and weak, but I have moved, and they have seen it."

He wrings his hands a moment, uneasy at the thought, then rallies and pins Nancy down with a stare.

"You know these fae. You have been seen with them. Who leads them?"

it was astonishing, the level of self-importance this man had. Hell, it was probably even true, that Fagin had sent the boys to mess with him. Or at least his particular brand of Daybreak. Certainly not him specifically, she would bet any day of the week.

But that was what he wanted to think. That he was important, and he was in danger, and he he he. And giving that to him could be a fast ticket out of this mess. And maybe she'd walk out with a good share of money, as well. He'd been disgusted at her previous show, the whore all dolled up. So perhaps the best option was to go in completely the opposite direction.

Nancy burst into tears, promptly starting to sob into her hands. Below, her eyes were dry. "I-- I can't tell you! He'll hurt me again, I know he will!"

Childermass resists the urge to roll his eyes himself. He is not one quite so easily played as Norrell himself, and he knows how a woman can use a couple well-timed tears to her advantage. He knows that there is a chance that she might be doing so now. But what he does not know is how to prove whether she is lying or not. Perhaps she cannot tell, for all her theatrics.

Childermass ignores the 'tears' and Mr Norrell's previous blustering (leading the witness indeed) and continues. "What is he after?" he asks, leaning forward again over the arm of her chair. "Who is this person to you, that you live in fear of him, so obliged to keep his secrets?" Tell me, every line of Childermass' person is nearly crying out with restrained force of will. He will find his answers, one way or another.

The tears make Norrell hesitate, make him frown as she begins her defence. He'll hurt me again, she protests, and he does not know what to do with that. Such a thing is not something Gilbert Norrell is used to. The world of street whores, of fae pinning children under their thumb, it is all alien to him. Norrell has money and safety, and he does not know how to sympathise with such a thing.

Theirs a soft knock at the door and then the servant re-enters with a tray, sets it down neatly on a table to one side. Norrell waves him off impatiently.

"Perhaps some chocolate will help her calm down?" he offers.

Norrell is probably the most useless man with any sort of power that Nancy has ever seen. But that's only a half-formed thought because Childermass takes up the rest of her thought process.

"I can't-" she insists, hiding her eyes behind her hands until she has worked herself up enough to actually summon tears. "I told you- I can't say anything." she leans away from Childermass as he bares down on her. "please don't ask me." she looks from one man to the other as the false tears run down her cheeks, smearing her makeup.

Childermass doubts that what she wants is chocolate, but he obliges Norrell's offer after a moment, standing straight and moving to fetch a cup for her. He may be the one generally calling the shots here, he might be more present in the situation than Norrell himself, might be more conscious of how to approach it and how to get answers out of her. But he's still only the hired help, and if Norrell wants him to serve drinks then he must serve drinks, as any hired help must do.

He approaches her again, the drink in hand, holding it out to her as he does. "It's just chocolate," he says, as if he is reading her thoughts as to what there might be in the drink. "Though it might be hot. Drink. Calm yourself." He glances back at Norrell, knowing the other man would prefer him approach this like a gentleman rather than digging the answers out of her like he could. After a moment, he leans forward closer to her, waiting for a calmer moment before grumbling out, "There must be something you can tell us. Where does he live? Is it within the territory?" That would make sense, if this has anything to do with the fae themselves.

"You must tell us," Norrell adds, as kindly as he can -- his small hands linked together in front of him but fidgeting still. "The fae will take over London entirely if they are not stopped. I know they can be cruel, but we will not let them be cruel to you if you only help us. Sylvia Redbright's promises might be empty but my word is good, I can assure you."

His small smile says trust me, although any person who had known Norrell long enough may doubt such a thing. Norrell's word is only good when it suits him, or when he is harshly reminded to keep it.

Nancy resists the urge to throw the chocolate in their faces, and instead, keeps up her miserable charade. She takes the cup, but only holds it.

Norrell doesn't like Redbright, she notes, filing it away for later, when she wasn't trying to get herself out of this mess without revealing anything about herself, her brothers, or Fagin. She shook her head, fast and tight. "I can't, you don't understand!" A few items on shelves begin to shake with the force of her emotions mingling with her magic.

"There's nothing you nor anyone can do to save me, me and the boys. I can't give you what you want." She heaves a terrible sob, pulling her knees up to her chest, any modesty forgotten in the moment. "He's a very bad man, capable of awful things. He'll hurt you, worse than me- he'll make me watch." She turns her green eyes up at Norrell, trying her best to look as pathetic as she could. "You don't deserve what he can do to you."

No, he deserved more.

Childermass eyes the shelves, though he does not fear the items on them. He merely wishes that Norrell did not have so many things that she might use against them in such a way, if things should turn ugly. He idly wonders how much of the act is real. Certainly not her concern for them, to be sure. That's where she took things too far. Alright, well if it's emotions that she seeks to use on them, then it is emotions that Childermass will use against her.

"You wish to protect them, is that it?" he asks. "He frightens you, this man, that much is plain." That much she doesn't have to fake. He knows how it works, on the street. "What is it that he holds over you? It cannot be loyalty that holds your tongue." He leans in close again, drawing his words out longer to emphasize his point, in his own rough way, ignoring her lack of propriety in the moment as well as that look in her eye she is trying to use against them. "A good little girl from well-to-do family would not sell herself on the streets for spare change. Nor would an honest man use little boys to do his dirty work. You are connected, all of you, and the connection is this man. What is he playing at?"

Norrell's small, sharp eyes flit up and around the shelves himself as they begin to tremble -- widening in alarm. Confirmation, then, that this woman is a witch perhaps? Or something else. Has some degree of fae magic on her. To think! He has allowed her here, into his study, and perhaps... Perhaps she has only come to spy on him! To try and steal his secrets for another! He rushes to a shelf to try and steady some things, remove breakables down to a safe level.

"Make her stop," he hisses at Childermass, for the safety of his books is paramount!

It is true. She's not a good girl from a good family, and Fagin is not an honest man. There's no lies there, nor is it a lie when she nods meekly, because he does frighten her. There's still part of that little girl that lives inside of her, that wants to make him happy and doesn't want him to hurt her. He'd used his cane against her and the boys before, and she knew, even that she no longer lived with him, that he would do it to her again. She had no one to protect her from Fagin, so she tried to keep him placated as best she could.

The memories are still so fresh and she uses them, some vase tumbling off of one of the higher shelves.

The best lies, she knows, aren't lies at all. So she would tell the truth to get herself out of here. "He- he raised me," she tries, refusing to look at Childermass, but rather, towards Norrell. "He's a very bad man- he set me to the streets when I was a child, just as he has with the boys."

Childermass knows the way of these things. The way of the streets. He grew up on them, after all. He grew up under the shadow of a whore (his mother) and he knows the way that life works when it is not, at heart, your own to live.

He glances aside at the vase that falls and knows that he could catch it, if he wanted to. He knows that he could reach out with his mind and halt it in its fall. But Norrell would be wary of his demonstration. It's bad enough that he's been forward, if he should showcase his magic in such a moment, then who knows what the other man will do. So he lets it fall. And lets her do her talking, for now. Glancing to Norrell for direction instead. Have you had enough? Say the word and he will do as you ask. He is the muscle in this, after all. Nothing more.

"Mr Norrell?"

Norrell makes a sound of distress as his vase hits the ground, continues to hurriedly rescue things from shelves. He risks a look over at Nancy, at her face as she attempts to plead with him. Some of it gets to him, in truth, but the danger of her magic making his things fall from shelves is a distraction from his sympathy. Takes away a good deal of it.

"Make her stop," he snaps again -- more meaningful this time. Either she stops the magic or Childermass has leave to force her to, however he chooses. Norrell cares little which it is, so long as his books are safe. He could simply ask her, but Norrell is not the kind of man to ask a person nicely when he feels harried.

She isn't trying to do magic, that's the thing. It's a reflex, when her emotions get the best of her, even if it is an act. And to a degree, it is.

"I'm sorry!" she tries, looking at the broken remnants of the vase. "I can't- not always- he never taught me." He taught her plenty of things, just not much about magic. Nothing that would give her power over him, a way to be her own person. She'd learned, but it had been on her own. Funny, how a girl so involved with Midnight was hardly the level of witch she assumed everyone thought she was.

At least they didn't know that.

Nothing shatters, but a few pages of books turn of their own accord. "Please-" please what she wasn't even sure anymore. "He's all I've got left."

Childermass looks between Nancy and Norrell and makes a tutting sound with his teeth, as though he would have pressed harder, he would have gotten the answers from her if it were up to him. But it isn't, and Norrell would definitely disapprove of him continuing with his own methods from here. So he lets it go, taking a step forward to remove the drink from her hands, using his other to haul her up.

"Come on, then," he says, settling the drink aside on Norrell's desk. He throws one last glance at the other man as he scurries around to rescue his belongings before he escorts Nancy from the room and hopefully solves all of their problems in doing as much.

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[closed to nancy & norrell] [forward-dated]

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