To hide away, hide away

[whatmatters]

1. SPY TACTICS [OPEN]
Ringer realized not long ago how objectively little she knew about the various factions she was dealing with. While Reznik had taught her the basic tidbits of each, their strengths and weaknesses, their loose affiliations, there were disputes and alliances forming that she found herself tragically ignorant to and often surprised by. For these reasons, she made the choice to set her more aggressive protective hunting aside for the moment to instead begin spying on people.

It didn't matter so much what significance the person held in their respective faction. She was trying to learn relationships between factions, who belonged to which, and so on. Sometimes it meant accidentally following a human who wasn't involved in any way. Most of the time, however, it meant following people she knew to be witches, werewolves, fae, and so on. Anyone who might be interesting.

The girl wasn't deliberately provocative in her pursuits, but she wasn't meticulously careful either. After all, she had no training for this kind of thing specifically. Ringer lurked in shadows and tried to follow a block or so behind, tried to appear distracted and caught up in her own world, and simply hoped that was enough. It was only a matter of time before someone caught on.


2. CAFE RESEARCH [OPEN]
Along with following people at night and in between her studies at uni, Ringer spent her free time studying. After the library became a tomb of isolation, she opted instead of the noisier and more oblivious patrons at the cafe. She turned up almost every day to grab a table in the corner or near to, ordering a tea and occasionally a scone or the like, laptop open on one half of the space in front of her while the other was filled with a book, or two, or three. For the casual observer, it would look like research for a paper, perhaps for a class on mythology or media. For those in the know, it might be obvious, but that only helped her to begin making more allies - or enemies.


3. GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN [CLOSED to Annie, early Feb]
All work and no play makes Ringer a dull girl. After a pleasant, albeit short, chat with Annie in the street, Ringer had done something rather un-Ringer-like and invited the girl over to hang out. She ordered some food from the Indian place down the lane, had a couple bottles of wine on standby, and had even ensured her television was prepared to play movies that they could rent if they chose. She didn't really know how things like this worked, but had heard enough stories and seen enough films to have an idea.

When the time approached, Ringer double-checked that her apartment was clean and that no signs of her real name were about for casual consumption. It wouldn't be hard to find if Annie went digging, but Ringer was hoping she wasn't that kind of acquaintance. The risk wasn't great enough for her to be concerned. After the final sweep, she settled in with awkward anticipation, waiting for Annie to arrive.


4. 'I LOVE DOGS' [CLOSED to James, mid Feb]
Ringer drank tea every day, like any good Brit should. She took it where she could get it, for the most part, and it never occurred to her to question why the one she drank this morning tasted any differently than the usual beyond trying a new cafe. Even when she began to notice that she was feeling off and some of her thoughts seemed new and not entirely justified, it never entered her mind that she might have been cursed or poisoned - or simply consumed a love potion.

She didn't know exactly why she felt compelled to visit James Memon at work. Objectively, it seemed like a terrible idea. There was no way of knowing how many of his colleagues were also members of the supernatural and it wasn't as if she had any special relationship with the man to merit her appearance, despite her one-time claim of being family. So when the secretary asked why she wished to see Mr. Memon, she said the first thing that popped into her head: "He's been talking to me about a case. He should be expecting me."

Comments

1

[falsify]

Eames is no stranger to the feeling of being followed, it sort of comes with the territory when one's a career criminal. Even moreso when that career has lasted several hundred years. He leads his tail all over the place to confirm his hunch, adding legitimacy by stopping to talk to local ne'er-do-wells - nobodies, but obviously the kind of street level element he'd have connections with.

It's when he manages to lead the way to a quiet area that he stops and pulls out his phone because he's the kind of guy who can't ever do anything normally. "You know there are easier ways to find out about a person," he says, addressing seemingly no one in particular. Wouldn't it be embarrassing if he was just paranoid and not being followed at all. "Asking them out for a drink, for instance."

[whatmatters]

Ringer hesitates a second, half thinking the man is talking into his phone before realizing that, no, he's very plainly talking to her. She began to wonder, about halfway through the needlessly winding paths, if he was on to her, but he kept dipping into places and never said anything, so she had no reason to truly believe he knew. Now here he is, addressing her directly.

"I don't drink," she states dryly, remaining where she is a building or so down the road. It feels like a safe distance, even if it's not. This man is definitely not the cleanly, good-for-humanity sort she's been following as of late.

[falsify]

He turns, following the direction of her voice to look at her. By all intents, he just looks like a guy checking his messages, speaking to a woman 10 metres away. It'd be an odd situation for a stranger to stumble upon, but Eames doesn't care.

"Lunch, then. Or a Facebook message. Perhaps coincidentally turning up at the same event" He raises an eyebrow and gestures broadly, staying put so as not to spook his new friend. "Stalking someone so openly is frowned upon, I hear."

[whatmatters]

"I don't Facebook either," she replies with the same tone. But she understands his meaning well enough, lifting a hand to push her hair from her face in a perfunctory gesture. The man is being surprisingly patient for calling out his apparent stalker, which makes her nervous. No one is ever that patient unless they're too powerful to care.

"I didn't realize stalking was frowned upon," so dry it's hard to tell whether she's being sincere or joking. "I'll leave then."

[falsify]

He laughs at what he assumes is a joke, taking a step toward her-- Just one, more curious about how she'll react than he is interested in closing the distance between them.

"So soon?" He asks as though genuinely disappointed, "I don't even know what I've done to catch your interest."

[whatmatters]

Ringer doesn't move yet. The risk of staying seems to outweigh the risk of leaving for the moment. She's already in his sights and if he is, as she suspects, part of the supernatural community, there's a good choice he can attack her if she chooses to run when he doesn't want her to. A predator with his prey. The gun at the small of her back helps to assuage that fear only a little.

"Maybe I'll coincidentally turn up at the same event," she offers, a hint of amusement entering into her otherwise bland tone. "What kind of event should I look for?"

[falsify]

"Oh, a lot of them. I get around." And if she wasn't so obviously unsettled by him, the way Eames smiles at her could almost be taken as some kind of invitation. "I'm sure this won't be the last time we see eachother."

2

[reticence]

Faolan drops down in the chair opposite of her without waiting for an invitation or any other such word of response from the younger hunter and leans forward across the table at her, cradling a coffee in between his hands. It isn't the first time that he's caught her in a position like this, with a laptop in front of her, hard at work. But before she had been at the library, and before, she had been a lot more friendly towards him than he gets the feeling she's about to be now. And part of that, he's assuming, is his fault. If he only understood what it was that he was supposed to have done though.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're avoiding me?" he asks, not bothering to beat about the bush. He's finally found her in a position where she hasn't had the opportunity to run away before he's gotten to her, and he's not about to let the opportunity pass him by.

[whatmatters]

Ringer's expression flashes with surprise at the sight of someone dropping across from her until she realizes who it is. Then her neutral expression tightens, wondering if she should be surprised or if she should have expected it. She hasn't spoken to Faolan beyond the necessary minimum about Hillingdon since their attempted recovery of the children. While she doesn't blame him directly, she's been doing her best to avoid thinking about it - which is made easier by avoiding him - and to focus on her research - which is made easier by avoiding most people, including him.

"Because I have been," she admits easily, her eyes returning to the book in front of her until she can finish the paragraph she's on. Then Ringer finally looks up to properly meet his gaze. "Why does it matter?"

[reticence]

Faolan quirks an eyebrow at her response. At least it's honest, he'll give her that. She certainly has her own way with words, though. And her own way with dealing with a situation, for that matter.

He leans forward, crossing his arms on the table in front of him and moving to lean on them. "You could at least give me a reason why, for a start," he says. "Normally I'm awarded at least that much, even you're not going to be giving me a second chance in this."

[whatmatters]

"A second chance in what?" She asks, genuinely confused. It hasn't even occurred to her that he might view this as the end of their alliance or the arguable friendship that accompanies it. For Ringer, this is a temporary withdrawal, a way to get back on track and refocus on what matters. On the other matter, however, she has no intention of sharing. She's never been good at talking about her thoughts or feelings beyond the professional and logical and the idea that she somehow owes him that is nearly laughable. If she ever laughed.

Ringer closes her laptop before gathering her books, setting them aside as a deliberate measure to show that she's willing to give him her proper attention and have whatever long conversation he wants to have.

[reticence]

Faolan falters slightly, uncertain of what she means by her question. She'd offered him the opportunity to crash in her apartment whenever she liked, she'd given him the option of leaving clothes in the drawers there, if he wanted to. What...did that mean to her, if not. Well, something resembling a friendship, of sorts? Had he been mistaken?

"I..." He pauses for a moment, hesitant and unsure how to proceed himself, before he carries on as best he can. Though his voice drops somewhat lower -- they are in a public place, after all. And he's never been very good about talking about his thoughts or feelings either. "Look, I'm. Sorry. If I've done something to upset or offend you. If it was about that case..." He trails off, knowing that it had been rough for all of them.

[whatmatters]

"It was," she cuts him off before he can continue or elaborate. "Is."

She lets out a small sigh and pushes her hair back in an awkward gesture, trying to settle herself and not think about their failure. Sometimes what happens is about being in the wrong place at the wrong time and it's no one's fault. This was one of those situations, in a way. But it also reminded her of how ignorant and unprepared she was and spurred her to be better.

"What do you want?" She asks after a moment, sounding weary if anything. "I told you you can stay if you need to. This doesn't change that. Do you need something else? Food, money, information? Tell me what you need and I'll do my best to supply it."

3

[anniesgonemad]

Annie wasn't necessarily the sort to snoop. She knew she would hate anyone going through her things, and couldn't bare doing that to anyone else. Unless, of course, she was after pertinent information. Currently, she had no information to look for, and thusly, Ringer's apartment was safe from prying eyes while she was there.

Annie, for her part, was also not very used to girl's nights. Like Ringer, she'd seen them on TV, but had never really been privvy to them. But she was excited to give it a shot. and so she arrived at the time specified, a bottle of wine in one hand, because that's what you did when people asked you over. You got them a bottle of wine. This one just happened to be a particularly nice white wine.

"Hi! Uhm, thanks for, ah, for inviting me. I brought you this- I don't know if you like white or red, but this is one of my favorites. So I thought maybe you'd like it?" Already she was cringing at her attempted greetings. Well done, Annie. Off to a good start.

[whatmatters]

"I like both," Ringer offers with the smallest hint of an upward curve to her lips. The girl doesn't really smile anymore. This is the closest she gets, in these rare moments of less pressure interaction and the chance of maybe actual friendship at some point. "Thanks."

She accepts the wine as Annie enters, closing the door behind her. It's a large apartment for a girl her age living alone in London, though she makes no mention of the fact. It's sparsely decorated, more minimalist than lacking in effort, though personal mementos or photographs seem lacking.

Ringer moves into the large room that is her living room, kitchen, and small dining area. She points to the various closed doors to indicate what they are: "Guest bedroom, toilet, my bedroom. Closet and storage space there. I have takeaway to eat." A beat. "Should I open your wine now?" Another beat. "I didn't exactly.. plan anything. I have movies. We can talk. I wanted to spend some time.. being human."

[anniesgonemad]

"You're welcome." Phew. Okay, good, Annie actually breaths a sigh of relief as she steps into the apartment, removing her flats as she did so. The size of the apartment doesn't escape her notice, but she doesn't say anything about it. That's really really rude, and she'd rather not be rude. Besides, she'd hate if anyone said her place was huge. Which, alright, it was pretty big, but it was originally a family home, and her grandmother owned it. The Crestas had a good amount of money, anyway.

Bare feet follow Ringer into the living space. If anything, the sparseness reminds her of Finnick's place. She'd only recently been adding some of her own touches to it- flowers, a particularly handsome picture of her and Finnick together that her grandma had taken, that damn formerly-cursed harp.

"Oh- wow, I was going to offer to pay for any takeaway, Ringer- you didn't have to. Here!" She starts to move back towards where she'd left her purse by her shoes. A bit of scrounging around has her producing a 20 pound note, and she holds it out. "Take it. Then maybe, uhm we can open the wine? Maybe find something to watch as, ah, background noise? And we can just... hang out? Sorry. I'm really bad at girl's nights. And, ah, being human most days, I think."

[whatmatters]

Ringer, in socks, appreciates the gesture. She moves to the kitchen to start pulling the food from its bags and set out on the counter. Then she's working on opening the bottle of wine. When Annie runs off to grab money, Ringer starts to protest before realizing it might be more polite to accept it. She's not really sure, but she definitely doesn't want to end up in a ridiculous 'I insist; no, I insist' back and forth.

"Thanks," she says instead, pocketing the money and making a mental note of the debt. Ringer finishes opening the wine, then grabs plates, utensils, and glasses out for them. "Help yourself."

She pours out the wine as she tries to think of what to do next, viewing the interaction as a potential series of logical moves rather than just interacting as people. Being friendly is hard. At Annie's admittance of also being bad at girls' night, Ringer relaxes a little.

"Then we'll be bad together. That makes it easier." She offers Annie a glass of wine before pouring her own. "How are you?"

[anniesgonemad]

Oh, wow, that went easier than expected. She lets out a sigh of relief, hoping that it's quiet enough that Ringer won't notice. She was always the first to offer to pay for anything, and usually polite society insisted on playing the 'no no, I insist' game over and over again.

"Thank you," she says, dolling out a bit of takeout for herself to much on. Or to distract herself. Either one works.

Another sigh of relief at Ringer's admittance. "okay- good. I'm glad I'm not alone in this." She accepts the wine with a bit more assurance in her smile. "I'm alright. I've been- well you know about Croydon." She's back on the couch by now, watching Ringer. "I've been helping Finnick." Sorry, Ringer. She'll be on about him.

[whatmatters]

Ringer ignores the small sigh, more than likely to make a similar gesture in their near future and hoping the courtesy will be returned. She takes a small sip of her wine before grabbing herself a plate to follow Annie's lead. It does make for a wonderful distraction. She glances up occasionally to show she's listening as she finishes serving herself, then joins Annie on the couch.

"Tell me about Croydon," she replies curiously. Ringer's heard rumors, but not details and could use some. It might help her understand the dispute between the witches and the fae a little better, the one that prevented her from shooting her guest's aforementioned boyfriend. "How is Finnick?"

4

[youronlylaw]

James' secretary was a human in an office space filled with other supernatural beings. Granted, there were just as many humans - in fact one was the head honcho herself - but that still didn't mean that there were much bigger fish here than herself.

Still, you wouldn't know it by her attitude. She looked frazzled, but generally suspicious - potentially too detailed oriented to fall for the lie.

"Mr. Memon is at a lunch. If you leave your name I'll tell him you dropped by," her smile was incredibly insincere and she might have been telling the truth - had James not then left his office walking directly past her desk.

"Amanda I need to go to the cou -," He looked up from his phone when he noticed someone standing at her desk and smiled as politely as he knew how.

"Cousin."

No he's never going to let that die.

[whatmatters]

Ringer's lips tighten at the woman's effective dismissal of her claims and her mind is already at work on what to say next or how else to get a hold of the man when he interrupts her train of thought completely. The girl's lips twitch in the hint of a smile at his greeting, ignoring the secretary's clear disapproval of Ringer having any sort of familiarity with the man.

"I'll ride with you," she offers, assuming he was meaning to say courthouse. It's not like she has anywhere to be. Right now, whatever it takes to get the time to talk to him about things. Important things. It's not like she's just trying to be around him. No, not at all. Ringer's trying to build an alliance with an important werewolf and sway him to humanity's cause. It has nothing to do with how attractive he is and that stupid smile and- shit.

[youronlylaw]

"Uh, sure." James seemed a little confused as to why she would want to ride with him but he could at least walk to the garage with her before parting ways.

As he kept walking, James threw over his shoulder back at his secretary: "You can go home when you're finished with that Amanda."

After this he was going to go home and sleep for a week before Lupercalia had to happen. There was a lot he needed to get straight before then.

"What can I help you with today?" He sounded less exasperated talking to her than he did to his secretary. Clearly that was a good thing.

[whatmatters]

Ringer focused on their path as she considered her words, an unusually passive gesture for the girl. It wasn't that she was intentionally avoiding looking at him so much as she knew she was confused and was trying to focus in order to think straight. She was also irrationally cognizant of how little time she had with him, even less if she couldn't engage him in a conversation worth his while.

"What do you want?" She asked finally, practically blurting out the words in a less than graceful fashion. Ringer tried to regain her usual neutrality as she quickly continued. "Everyone has their own agenda and endgame. Knowing what you are didn't help as much as I thought it would. I don't understand what you want."

[youronlylaw]

Honestly, he wasn't expecting that. And the truth of his reaction is easy to see as he can't help but smile in bemusement. Ringer was direct, yes; but she had yet to just say something without trying to be clever.

"Uhh," James starts, caught off guard. "Well. I want to help my pack."

A non-answer if ever there was one.

[whatmatters]

"And?" The question came without missing a beat.

She believed that to be true. She also believed that it was an answer that any employee would give about their company, in a sense, and she was searching for his own unique angle. Understand what he wanted and maybe she could help him to achieve it somehow, or to at least understand him better. Ringer wanted to help see him succeed, so long as it wasn't at the cost of human lives.