undergrounds | [semi-open to the Shadow Coven] [Nov 30th]

Everything's been just so much lately, but it's important not to let that keep things from progressing. The day after the disaster at Lewisham, Abigail will have received an invitation inviting her and her coven to discuss an exchange that could be of benefit to her. He's been upfront, admitting on the invite that he's of the Unseelie court - it'll be obvious the second they get to talking anyway.

The restaurant probably looks a bit out of place somewhere like Croydon, it's not a borough known for elegant design and fine dining. Eames has had the place booked out, so no one will be there except them and a small gathering of staff; something to allow for some privacy. The table is set out with seats, glasses, pitchers of water. And menus, because you don't invite people to a restaurant not to eat. A handsome young man will show everyone to the table as they arrive and ask for any drink orders before they order their meals - he's not magic, but he does have the elegance and grace people expect of a fae. No wonder he works here.

At the table, Eames is sat reading with a glass of wine as he waits patiently for people to arrive. And he'll stand to greet them with a smile once they do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's a difference of opinion really - Daybreak are a cause of frustration, but very rarely are they a threat in the same way as the vampires. Being barred from this place is less of an issue than being bled dry to an immortal, after all.

Regardless, he doesn't care much about their opinions, only their answers. Eames looks at the three of them, waiting for their answers.

"Yes," is Nancy's answer, because she can't say no to something like this.

The final answer falls to Kenzi.

"Ditto."

It's less final sounding than a yes. As far as she's concerned. Kenzi smiles quickly towards Nancy and Abigail, trying to be some sort of assurance.

It doesn't help as much as she'd hope.

"Then we're in agreement."

Her voice is firm. Almost cold. And she stands almost immediately.

"And done, I think."

"One last thing," Eames says as Abigail stands, and he takes out a folder and a fountain pen that he slides across the table. Inside the folder, she'll see a simple contract that outlines Abigail's side of the deal - the wording is concise and simple, so there's no room to hide any secrets or tricks. The obnoxious thing is the lack of ink in the pen, and a sharp point just above the nib - implication being, it's used for signing things in blood.

"I hope you won't be insulted, but by the very nature of what I am, I'm bound to my word," and he gestures to the paper with an expression that could be read as sympathetic if one believed he had that in him, "you, Miss Widdowson, are bound by no such rules."

Well then.

If Abby signed, they were all bound. All three of the girls shared blood now, they'd made sure of that the night they created their coven. Not that Nancy had any intentions of breaking their agreement. But it was good to note this.

She kept silent, drinking.

"That's not creepy at all," she drawls, staring at the pen like it's going to grow legs and start crawling towards her.

Why the hell did Fae have to be so weird?!

"No."

It's simple. Hard. Cold.

"I'll sign in ink. Make a promise to the terms with all your magic binding it."

Her eyes narrow, meeting his. Of course she's terrified, but she won't let that show. She can't. She has to hold herself straight. And has to have something she values. Blood has to be offered, not demanded.

"But I will not sign in blood."

Mortals are always so touchy about these things, but it's about the reaction he expected. They always act as if he's going to go scraping the dried blood off the page, as if it'd have enough power down the line for him to do more than give a nasty itch.

Eames tilts his head, considering it, "blood binds you only to this contract. If you want to sign in ink, I'll be needing your full name." And names hold power, something he'd expect someone whose had as many dealings with the fae as a Widdowson to know. Perhaps it's not the same threat to a mortal as it is to the likes of him, but it's a dangerous thing to give regardless.

Still, he shrugs and takes a pen out of his inside pocket, offering that to her instead. "It seemed the safer of two options, but I suppose I misjudged."

There wasn't an easy option, but, she supposed, names were easier than blood. Either way, there was a binding power to them.

Regardless, it wasn't her decision to make. Not at this point.

And ultimately - it wasn't Kenzi's either.

As their defacto leader, Abigail's word was final. Especially when the blame if things went wrong lay at her feet. The victory too, but that was optimistic.

"I give you my word. The terms of this arrangement will be upheld."

She knew it was the same -- spoken or written. She was bound by her word if she gave this much to a fae.

"My name is Abigail Morgan Widdowson. I offer it of my own accord and as a bond."

He would've preferred it in writing - Eames is a modern, forward-thinking fae after all - but he has her name and he has her word, he'll not draw things out any longer than necessary.

"Excellent," Eames claps his hands together, "I expect you're eager to be rid of me, so I won't keep you any longer."

Nancy pressed her lips together as she finished the rest of her drink. alright, there they were. done.

"we'll talk later, yeah?" she asked Eames, looking sidelong at him. if he wanted to talk now rather than later however, she was happy to.

"So no food?"

It's a legitimate question! Kenzi was under the impression she would be able to get some food for the road. Granted, she would take a hot dog or burger over this fancy stuff but hey. Beggars, choosers.

"Not when it's fae food," Abigail mutters, glancing over at Kenzi. There's a bad enough taste in her mouth already, but it's something she has to stomach. "At least not for me."

"It's Greek, actually." This time Eames' smile is sharp, if only because now it's his turn to feel insulted. He'd said once already the food was untouched by magic, but if they chose to interpret him as skirting the truth then so be it.

"You missed the ordering portion of the meeting, but I'm sure if you asked the kitchen they'd be happy to make you something to take home." He reclines in his seat, expression a little softer when he addresses Kenzi directly, "the chef is extremely proud of his moussaka."

"It's not Fae," Nancy mutters back, before looking up at Eames with apologetic eyes. This whole thing was a mess. Still, she can try to do some damage control. "I'd love to order some take-away," Nancy said confidently, with a reassuring smile at Kenzi. It's nothing against Abby, obviously.

Besides, Eames wouldn't do anything to harm her, not when she was an investment.

If Nancy trusts it. So does Kenzi.

Besides, she loves Greek food and this place looks pompous enough to have something really great.

"Yeah I'll get some of that moose stuff."

She totally knows how to actually say it but 'moose stuff' is just more fun.

[semi-open to the Shadow Coven] [Nov 30th]

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