undergrounds | [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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"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.

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

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