undergrounds | Food, Glorious Food (closed to Arthur)

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Food, Glorious Food (closed to Arthur)

Before anyone said anything, let us be clear: this was not a date. This was Nancy, trying to make up for the inconvenience she had posed to one of her (surprisingly dear) friends the night of Lewisham. And she was doing it the only way she knew how to that didn't involve spreading her legs.

She was cooking dinner.

Her apartment was cleaned for the occasion, the lights dimmed and more than a few candles lit in the small apartment. Juliet had already been warned against playing with them, and so the cat had contented herself to laying on a particularly soft part of her couch and taking in the noise of Nancy cooking as only a cat could do.

Now, Nancy wasn't a particularly good cook, nor was she particularly bad. So she'd spent the afternoon whipping something simple together (salad, bread, salmon, and a lot of wine) for the two of them. By the time Arthur was due to arrive, Nancy had nearly everything ready.

She was prepared for the occasion not in her usual work clothes, but something a bit more casual. She still wore a skirt, but her shirt was a bit more what most people would call appropriate. Her makeup was subdued, and her hair hung down freely around her face. Very much the sort of way someone would dress if this were a date of sorts, instead of just simply an 'I'm sorry I ruined your already shitty evening thanks for putting me up on your couch' dinner. Which it was. For the record.

Still, she wanted to make a good impression, considering the state she'd been in the last few times she'd seen him. Show him that she could be respectable. The whole thing made her stomach turn.

So she'd already had a glass or two of wine before Arthur showed up, what of it? Nancy was already bounding to the door when the knock sounded, setting her glass down on the kitchen counter as she passed. She nearly flung open the door to greet her friend with a warm hug and a brief kiss on the cheek. "Arthur! Come in- I've got beer or wine, whatever you'd prefer, in the fridge, and plenty to eat, so I hope you're hungry. Let me get your jacket, yeah?" She held her hands out for the object in question. "Welcome, by the way, you find my place alright?"

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It's a lot at once, but Arthur's not sure exactly what he expected when Nancy opened the door. He had been tempted to turn down the invitation altogether, worried that it might be inappropriate to entertain the idea of friendship with Nancy, having not clearly established any boundaries or ground rules for the whole thing. She's young, far too young, and Arthur doesn't want to give her the wrong impression, but they're also involved in this whole supernatural business now and that complicates things. He wants to keep her as an ally at least, which probably means not turning down dinner invites without precedent.

He had thought maybe tonight they could talk some of that over, but when she comes to the door and wraps her arms around him and starts off with a lot of words and there's already wine on her breath which means the bottle in his hands will have to wait, but he doesn't worry about that for now. One question at a time.

"Yeah," he starts, gesturing behind him, "I walked you home before. And I'll just - " he puts the wine down on the nearest available flat surface and starts to take his jacket off. Once he's had a moment to think he smiles at her. "Smells good, whatever you've made."

Well. They can open his wine, next, then. It's probably better than hers, at any rate. You're looking at barely-above-box-wine standards here.

"Right," she says, nearly smacking herself in the head before taking his jacket. His jacket is then promptly hung up on her rather sparse looking coat-rack. "I'm sorry, of course you have." She's an idiot, if there ever was one. Once his jacket is hung, she gestures for him to step into the kitchen.

"Goodness, thank you." She looks over at the bottle he brought and smiles appreciatively. Much, much better than her own. "You're too kind, really. I've got a salmon in the oven, I hope it's good, I've never made the thing before." She smiles as she has no idea what's going on in his head, rules, and what-have-you. She's never listened to rules and boundaries, because she's never been allowed to have them before. So this will, amongst other things, be a learning experience. All she knows is they're allies somewhat, more friends, and he is not interested in hiring her. Fair enough.

"Here, I'll put this in the fridge to cool, have a seat on the couch, if you would? Don't mind Juliet, but I'll take it you want some wine, then?" She'll just pour herself another glass, too. No problem at all. "I can open yours up, if you'd rather, I've just got a bit left of this bottle, is all."

"Your wine is fine," he says, wandering out to the couch and tucking his hands in his pockets. "If you're making fish, mine will go with that."

He's not a nosy person by any means, but he is prone to observation. He looks around her apartment reminding himself that at her age he was inhabiting an even smaller place, that he was just scraping by on paying rent for on his military salary. Hers feels homier, more lived in than that apartment ever did, and he smiles gently at all the telltale signs of Nancy and then at the cat who meanders up to say hello. "Juliet, I take it," he says to her softly as he scratches under her chin.

He has questions - a lot of the - and he has certain topics that he wants to bring up, but he'll wait for Nancy to wind down. It's no use trying to talk properly when she's in this flurry of activity, and he doesn't want to distract her from the food preparation if that's almost over with.

"Perfect." She beams brightly at him, pausing only briefly in her scurrying to get things ready.

Her apartment is relatively need, aside from the cat hair. Hardly the grandest thing, but she did have some well-off clients that made sure to take care of her. The most interesting parts of her apartment would have been her collection of books, most of them magic, and a few odd items that she kept on a shelf with them. A wand sat resting on a piece of velvet cloth that looked like it could have been a scarf or something, next to a small ring that looked like it would have fit a child. A small glass pipe is on the windowsill, the only indication that alcohol wasn't the only thing that helped Nancy escape from the world.

Aside from that, honestly, it looks like a standard apartment belonging to any nineteen-year-old.

Nancy pours Arthur a healthy glass of wine and moves into the living room to hand him the glass. Juliet is already looking at the new man suspiciously, but he's petting her, and she likes that well enough, so she lifts her chin in appreciation. So far, this guy can stay. If not, she's peeing on his jacket.

Once she's given the glass to Arthur, she's back in the kitchen puttering about for a few moments before sighing. "There. Alright- just a bit longer and we'll have all the food you can eat." She ran her hands over the fabric of her skirt, smoothing it out before once more picking up her wine and coming to join Arthur on the couch.

"Thank you, again, for coming." She tells him, exhaling as she leans back against the cushions of the beige couch. "I thought making you dinner was the least I could do, for being an absolute wreck the past few times I've seen you." She takes a drink, letting the alcohol relax her.

"I told you, you don't have to apologize for that," he says, but he doesn't sound annoyed at all. He gives Juliet's back one final stroke as she wanders away, and then he sits back to take a sip of his wine. It's hard not to be a little tense in here, but he masks it alright, looking down at his wine glass or around the apartment instead of up at Nancy the entire time.

"I knew with everything going on in London that you'd probably get caught up in it at some point. I gave you that number so you'd have somewhere safe to go when that happened."

"I know," she acquiesces. "But it doesn't seem right, not to." If he's tense, she's still practically bouncing with an energy she so rarely had. It's nice to have new company over, and Arthur is... He's Arthur. He's older and American and far too kind, and she wants to make a good impression, especially considering how they've always managed to meet.

"But I'm going to thank you for that, anyway. I've been caught up in all of this for far too long, it's a shock it hasn't come to this level of it, before." Probably because she'd been a little bit more protected. But now she lived on her own, she worked (mostly) on her own. She didn't have Fagin's level of protection anymore, and the man had more enemies than friends.

Arthur doesn't argue this point, seeing that even if he felt strongly about it being no big deal that he'd get nowhere with Nancy anyway. He takes another sip of wine and then sighs.

"So, how's it all been since Lewisham? I know Midnight wasn't involved but it sounds like Daybreak thought you were involved anyway. Have they tried to track you down again?"

Nancy shakes her head, trying to relax against the couch. "It's more that Norrell thought Fagin was involved. Which, as it turns out, he is. He's lived in Lewisham long enough-" they were talking centuries "-that when his territory gets encroached upon, he'll send the boys to do his dirty work." She'd done some asking, after Norrell and Childermass let her leave.

"Norrell assumed it was just him they were after. They weren't, but he was a bonus." She took a cool sip of her wine, looking at Arthur over the rim of her glass.

"They've let me be, but I'm keeping an eye out. They know who I am, what I do." And they'd used it against her, luring her into the car, to Norrell's home under false pretenses. That's what bothered her the most, out of all of this. Remembering it, she gave an involuntary shiver.

Arthur frowns, thinking about just how much he dislikes Norrell. He doesn't even know the man, but all this posturing he's done, all the stories he's heard... they don't add up to a very appealing person. "I've seen covens fight with each other, but never like this. There has to be some way to make sure you don't get picked up by one of his lackeys again."

"I doubt it, unless I left London. I've gone and put myself in the middle of this, like it or not." she sighs irritatedly at it all.

"it was only a matter of time, especially with the way the state of the city's been going. I'm just glad he didn't know I'm part of Shadow Coven."

"True," Arthur says, taking a sip from his wine glass. "That is a relief."

He doesn't sound very relieved, however. They're bound to figure it out somehow. Norrell may not be that smart but Sylvia is, and if she thinks it's beneficial to pass information down to him then she will. "Well, in any case, they don't know who I am and they have no reason to find out, so my apartment's always open if you need it."

"they might," she worries at her bottom lip. "if they've seen you with me. or Eames." she hopes not, having a safe house with him was something she valued.

"but I'll tell you what; for each night I need to use your place, I'll make you a dinner." she takes a sip of wine. "if you've got more questions..." well. she couldn't promise she'd be able to answer all of them but it was only fair to give him the option.

He almost tells her she doesn't have to make him dinner, but he knows that would only be met with argument so it dies before it makes it to his lips. He takes a sip of wine instead and the takes a deep breath.

"I don't think so," he says. "From here, we just... go forward, I guess. Eames has things in the works, and Hillingdon..." He gestures vaguely. There's not much to say about Hillingdon, and anything there is is personal.

"right." she gives him a nod. she understood. Hillingdon was... what it was. she didn't have any run-ins with them, and that was it really. Witches seemed to be the most tolerated by them, but she wouldn't say it and press her luck. it had been awful as of late, anyway.

the oven beeped at her and Nancy rose to her feet. "alright, salmon's done if you want to take a seat at the counter?" she'd already had the places set and a wave of her hand and a small wrinkle of her nose in concentration brought the tray out of the oven.

"Yeah, sure," he says, standing almost too quickly. He doesn't bat an eye when the tray floats out of the oven - he had almost gotten used to magic being used so casually before he came to London.

"Smells delicious," he tells her as he sits down. He knows he's already said it, but it bears repeating in the face of nothing else to say.

she blinks at the quickness. alright. the pan sets itself down with a little wobbling. "thanks," she said. "I'll let it cool and we've got salad and bread." she was working with her hands now to get the bread cut, though the salad bowl floated itself out of the fridge.

it doesn't take her long to plate everything. "let's finish these glasses, then. and we can start on your wine."

"Sure."

Arthur wonders to himself again at the fact that back home Nancy wouldn't technically be allowed any of this wine, but he doesn't say anything about it. It's a useless contribution that would only be met on deaf ears on Nancy's part, but it's difficult not to feel a bit strange sitting here waiting for her to serve him dinner. He waits patiently for Nancy to get settled in at the table and have a few bites before he speaks again.

"So, what do you think of Eames' deal?"

That was back home, and this is England. Nancy's been drinking since she was a child. Fagin didn't give a rat's ass what the children imbibed, and Nancy only found it to help her. It dulled the rest of the world, kept it away for at least a little while longer.

Eames' deal. Oi. Speaking of wine, she takes another drink, gathering her thoughts before exhaling. "It's- look. Between the two of us, he's a lovely man. He's been nothing but kind to me-" except when he hired someone to watch her "-and really seems to care. But... when it comes to business, I can't trust him." She didn't trust fae.

"But we need the territory. Abby and Kenzi were suspicious, and there were a lot of added everything, when he posed the deal to them, but..." She shakes her head. That had been the most awkward of meals, putting her in an odd place. "We're not attacking Daybreak on their behalf. We're not attacking the fae. They're saying fuck you to Redbright, and your enemies' enemies are your friends, aren't they?" Tell her she's right.

Edited 2015-12-20 14:09 (UTC)

Arthur nods along. It's more than Eames has told him, but that's not saying much. Eames has been... cagey since Lewisham, and Arthur hasn't quite figured out why yet.

"Sure," he says, in response to her question. "I guess, when you look at it, they're putting you in a position where theoretically you shouldn't have to worry about being attacked. It's Daybreak and fae on all sides, and now you have truces with both. If Sylvia's true to her word, then Daybreak won't attack, and now Eames has made a deal with you on behalf of the fae. He's cleared it with the courts."

Arthur takes a bite of food thoughtfully. He would have loved to be there at that dinner, to see how they managed to come to an agreement. He adds after a moment; "--and all you have to to know about Eames is that he's good for a deal and he hates Sylvia Redbright."

Edited 2015-12-21 14:56 (UTC)

She points her fork at him, loaded with salad, by way of agreement. If that didn't work, her nod should have. "Exactly. We just need a place where we can be safe. And if Redbright attacks us, it'll have been her that broke the truce, not us. Which would only prove to the whole of London that she can't be trusted." Which just happened to be Abby's plan, in the long-run.

It was good, though, he'd cleared the deal with the courts. She'd assumed, but to hear it from a second source was a good as confirmation.

"Thank you. For being a character witness" She was serious, as well. if Arthur, with whatever his relationship with Eames was, could say he was good for a deal, then she believed it.

Arthur shrugs one shoulder, non-committal. "I don't know a whole lot about the fae, but I do know that there are a few of them who just don't want to be strong-armed out of the city. As far as I can tell, that's the goal for him. If it's a trick, well, you still have territory and a fae's word that he won't betray your circle."

At least the fae have a reason to dislike Sylvia. Arthur just opposes her on a moral basis.

"Fagin tried to avoid politics," Nancy tries to explain. "He had his place in Lewisham, and will be damned before he gives it up. Not that he isn't already as damned as can be." She finishes this statement with a side-long glance and another drink of wine. He's one of the reasons she drinks, if Arthur's powers of deduction were off.

"But when Lewisham was threatened, he sent the boys out to do his dirty work, just as always." Nancy shakes her head and goes for Arthur's bottle of wine, to uncork it.

"At least. They don't have anything to gain, by betraying us, at any rate. Not that I can see." The bottle is uncorked in near-record time and she holds it out to him. "Let me know when you're ready."

Arthur glances at Nancy's wine glass as she talks, wondering just how often she drinks. It seems at least that she has a bit of experience, since she seems oddly steady despite having had a couple glasses that he knows of.

He nods when she offers the next bottle, holding up his glass for her to refill it. "You're right. Why make an enemy of yet another faction? They need allies in the mortal realm, as far as I can tell."

She drinks a lot, harder things than wine, and she's been doing it since she was young. Fagin was from another time, where alcohol was better for you than the water, and he tended to instill that in his wards. Nancy was proof of that. And her reliance on it.

She uncorks his bottle, and pours them each a glass. "Exactly." There's a sigh there, though. "I bloody hate politics."

Arthur lets out a brief chuckle, then takes a sip of wine. "I don't know, it's kind of fun. And particularly important, for all of us. It's our responsibility to get involved, you just have to figure out how and why is best for you."

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