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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Arthur gives her a thoughtful frown over the rim of his wine glass as he takes another sip. His past is generally on a need-to-know basis, but it's not exactly confidential. Some parts are, of course, but others are things he just chooses to keep to himself. He sighs and puts his glass down as he considers where to start.

"I was enlisted," he says, "to hunt vampires. I had the right skills for this team, and the mystery of the whole thing was interesting to me, so I joined on. I did that for a few years, and then I decided to move on, find other jobs that were a little more... research based."

He shrugs one shoulder. "I ended up traveling around the world with a witch and his wife, kind of as their bodyguard. I was there for when things got messy or they were in a more dangerous situation. He liked to get into dangerous situations."

Nancy takes all of this into consideration. "Interesting- like a branch of the military or something? " She had no idea how the American military worked at all. Regardless, his story was still interesting.

"I can imagine how that turned out- so what brought you to London, then? If you were traveling." She was full of questions, but it gave her time to eat while he talked, and honestly, she didn't know anything about Arthur. At this point, he knew more about her than she knew about him, and maybe tonight they could even that out a bit more.

Better than politics, anyway, and she knew most people liked to talk about themselves.

He doesn't answer her question about the military. It's not really supposed to be common knowledge that the American military funds a team of specialized vampire killers, so he keeps it mum whenever he can.

"He had to go somewhere and he didn't need me with him, so I decided to settle down here. We'll meet up again at some point, but I've liked spending a little time in one place for a while."

Silence is enough of an answer, but she doesn't press.

"Well, I'm glad you chose London. Granted, I've never been anywhere else, but, I'd say it's a damn good city." She takes a drink, setting her fork down. "Plus, it means I got to meet you."

He smiles, glancing bashfully down at his food. "It's definitely one of the more interesting places I've been," he says. "I don't think you'll find a supernatural community anything quite like this anywhere else in the world. Not that I've been everywhere, but there are so many supernatural cultures here all packed in together in this city. Maybe that's why everything's so... contentious."

"Only place I've been." She would have loved to travel, but never had the mean outside of the country. Even trips to Wales or Scotland were rare.

"I always wonder what the communities must be like in places like New York." It had to be huge and flashy, she imagined. Elegant. Theirs was just... contentious. "But I never thought about it like that. Never gave it much thought really, though. Other than just all the old energy here, living in such a place with such history. We have cobblestones older than your country here."

Arthur gives another shrug and nods thoughtfully. It's been a while since he was in America, and the majority of his time spent there was not rubbing elbows with the supernatural. He was more likely to be hunting them.

"I guess it's about what you'd expect. There's a lot less tradition there, but there's also a sense of pride. The thing is, the country's so big that there's room to spread out - if you don't like what the witches are doing in LA, there's another coven in San Francisco doing something that might suit you better. People still get attached - and New York's one of those places where no one wants to be pushed out - but there's less... entitlement. Or maybe there is, but it just comes in a different flavour."

She follows along, picking at her food as he explains the way it is in the US. Part of it seems so strange. Other parts, well, probably makes sense. It had to be a lot like the American political system, she figured. President of the Supernatural. Or so she could easily imagine.

"And you were in New York," she assumes again. "I'd love to go, see what it's like over there, both in the Supernatural communities and not." She could probably get a good amount of work over there, if she wanted. But ideally, she wouldn't be on a working vacation, just a vacation. "New York has to be astounding, underground-wise. Or do you call it the Subway over there?" A joke, delivered over the top of her wine glass. She's going a bit slower now, for Arthur's sake. Besides, despite years of drinking, she can feel the easy trickle of wine in her veins, making things a bit more subdued, a little more hazy.

Brilliant, just the way she preferred it.

"Actually, I grew up in Chicago, but I've been to New York a number of times," he says, then adds with a smile, "and no, they don't call it the subway. Most of the time I spent there was before I knew about any of this, trips with my parents or with friends, before I got recruited. It's an interesting city to begin with, but after you add that in..."

He gestures with his wine glass and takes another sip. It's clear he enjoys talking about this. The culture of it all is what draws him, this extra layer of life just below the surface. "There are vampires with lofts on fifth avenue hosting parties for the rich and famous, halfway houses that are actually covens made up of poor kids who don't have anywhere else to go... I went to a night club once on business and found out that it was completely owned and operated by werewolves. No one gets away with anything when the bouncers are actually wolves."

"Really!" New information had her leaning forward. "Sorry, this is all really interesting to me." At least he seems to find it interesting, too. HE seems more animated, a bit more at ease. Or maybe that's just the wine.

She purses ehr lips. "Seems like it'd make sense. Kensington is filled with vampires, old money quite literally." And as for halfway houses... "Almost sounds like the boys'." Some of them were meta-human, others young fae children. Mostly, however, they were humans, stolen or found. Others, like Nancy, had been given.

"Maybe I'll introduce you to them. Or take you to some of the more out-of-the-way places around here." Human, or witch, Nancy ran in darker circles than she believed Arthur would. "There's an entire back room at The Jolly Roger that's for the supernatural. We don't have to hide anything there." She could even work there without any problems. It helped that her friend bartended and had a short temper. And a great throwing arm.

Arthur raises an eyebrow at her as he takes another sip of wine.

"People like me aren't generally welcomed with open arms in places like that," he says. His tone isn't patronizing, but he does wonder if she knows what he does. There has to be a bit of a divide in his line of work.

"Neither am I." Prostitutes tended to get kicked out of a lot of bars. Not to mention, any Daybreak aligned organizations didn't take too kindly to Midnight witches, either. But no, she didn't know what he did. He was a hunter, she had assumed. But one of the good guys.

"But you're part of it," he says patiently. "I'm on the outside looking in, and sometimes I'm also pointing a gun."

"I'm also a criminal." Not because of the dark magic, but for her profession, her history of thievery. "Besides, you don't kill us just to kill us, as far as I can tell. But I understand what you're saying. I won't push it."

"I have my connections, that's all I really need," he says with a shrug. His tone isn't remorseful, it's just factual. "I just never wanted to fool myself into thinking I was part of the community."

She purses her lips just slightly. "Fair enough." Rookie mistake, anyway.

Nancy takes another drink of wine. "I should maybe introduce you to the boys, the more I think about it." Eames had met Charley Bates, accidentally. "They're a good enough lot." And needed a positive role model.

Arthur smiles at that as he takes a bit of the fish. "I have been told I'm good with kids."

Nancy beams at him. "Have you? That's what I like to hear." The boys needed a good role model in their life. But she couldn't be obvious about it. And there was no way she was bringing anyone near the den.

"There's a good dozen of them, I should probably warn you."

Arthur pauses in the middle of a sip of wine.

"A dozen?"

Deadpan: "yes." Under the thumb of this horrible, horrible fae, each one of them another reason to stay near the old man, just as they were a reason to leave.

"The youngest is seven." Saying out loud, it nearly made her sick. "They're well behaved enough." She made sure of it.

"Hey, as long as you're not asking me to babysit," Arthur says with a shrug, though he still looks a bit overwhelmed. He always thought having four children in the same place was a bit much, but twelve. That's a lot.

"Wouldn't dream of it. I don't even babysit." The whole lot at once. They were all very capable young boys, and did not need a babysitter.

"I don't know, maybe a few of 'em could benefit from having a respectable role model in their life." She was by no means respectable or a role model. But she was still better than Fagin.

"Would you count me as a respectable role model?" he asks, partly curious and partly amused. He's never thought of himself as a role model type, content to go about his life without worrying about the impression he's leaving on younger people, just the impression he makes when he's networking. It's much different.

"Truthfully, anyone that ain't Fagin is a respectable role model for these boys." It was the sad truth. Not to say that Arthur was a terrible choice. He was a good one.

"I just want them to see there's other ways out there. Other people- good people." People that wouldn't rob you blind and then make you feel bad you didn't have enough for them. People that didn't haunt your nightmares and lurk behind every corner they came across.

"But you are, I'd like to say, a good role model. From what I know of you, you've got a good head on your shoulders, you're the decent sort, and a friend." What more could she ask for?

Arthur's never been particularly good at receiving compliments, so he bashfully looks down at his food. "I do try," he says, before taking another bite. After a beat, he asks, "you don't have to take care of them that often, do you?"

Food, Glorious Food (closed to Arthur)

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