undergrounds | walking with strangers (March & April Catch-All)

"Your word against his, unfortunately. It'd be easy to claim you're a witch with a grudge, making things up." He gives her a sympathetic frown, but they both know it's the case. Between her friends, the man who raised her, and her occupation? Without material proof, it'd be nothing except dinner party gossip.

"Damn it," she swears, because it is true. Everything about her screamed liar, and she would be stretching the truth, anyway. Oh well, more gin.

"Stuffing the ballot boxes it is then. Old fashioned voter fraud."

"It's a classic," he shrugs and reaches for another slice of pizza, "and if we knock him off his platform, that takes away a lot of his power."

"You know," she drawls, "I ran into him again. At Abby's anointing." So, shortly after she found herself in the hospital.

And certainly during the time she was supposed to be healing in said hospital.

Well that gets a raised eyebrow, seeing as someone was supposed to be recuperating. But that's the past and she's clearly not dead, so no point bringing it up really.

"Yeah?" It's not exactly a surprise, but. "How mad was he?"

Someone wasn't going to abandon her bff on the biggest day of her fricking life and political career okay okay thanks. But yeah. She's not dead. So everyone wins.

"Furious, but he held it together when it came to her. It was me that knocked him off-kilter.

He snorts, "what did you do to him?"

"Apparently, he didn't like the sight of me." Fresh bruises, no makeup, broken wrist. "But he offered me protection."

That's. Not at all what he expected her to say, and Eames stops mid-sip of his gin to give Nancy a confused look, not entirely certain he even believes what she just said.

"From Fagin?" He asks, by way of seeking clarification. That would make some kind of sense, he supposes.

A smirk crosses her face as Nancy takes a drink of her gin. Taking Eames by surprise is a point of pride. Take that, Arthur.

"He hates Fae more than he hates Midnight, I guess."

"Mm, we do seem to be personae non gratae these days," he sighs almost wistfully, as though it's more than a massive inconvenience. Mortals these days, you know? So rude.

"But, that could come in handy later on."

"Hate to break it to you." She, for her bad experiences with Fagin, did not hate the fae. She had a very healthy respect for them.

"I thought as much, it's safe to say."

"What kind of protection did he offer?" It must be significant after all, if he expects it to protect her from a fae as old and crafty as Fagin

"Nothing specific," Nancy admits. "He couldn't really, given we were in public. But he said there were ways. Wards, spells. He underestimates Fagin, that much is clear."

Oh, that gets quite the laugh from Eames, and he even shakes his head, "if wards and spells were enough to deter the old kidsman, he'd've gone out of business centuries ago."

Wish that he had.

[seriously, fuck Fagin. dirty old bastard.] No that man knows more ways around anything. And with the boys, they can get away with more than he can. They've always been his eyes, ears, and hands while he hides out.

"Well, Norrell needn't know how crafty the old bastard is. As long as he thinks he can protect you, there's a way to take him down another peg or three." How exactly? No idea. But it's a way in.

"Which is precisely why I told you." She finishes off her glass and blinks slowly before going for another slice of pizza. Her movements are sloppy as she shovels it into her mouth.

"Is there anything you've ever tasted that compares to pizza?" She's not sure if she's seriously asking or not. But why not?

Eames laughs and raises an eyebrow as he watches Nancy. "Are you drunk already?" There's a hint of mock-judgement in his tone, but maybe she's just really into pizza.

"No!" She says, because it's true, but she's working her way there. "It's good gin, and it's good pizza, you." She points at him, because that makes her point about the pizza. Or maybe it proves to Eames that she's maybe a little drunk.

She hadn't been not drinking before he'd showed up, anyway.

Well she's definitely tipsy, and Eames shakes his head, pretending to be totally disappointed in this abysmal lack of sobriety.

"Well. Consider me told."

Nancy responds with wrinkling her nose at him. It's kind of adorable.

"Shush, you. I like pizza."

"So I can see." Eames notes the adorable expression, but he's not swayed by it. He does, however, shrug to indicate he'll let it go. If He ends up holding her hair while she throws up all this pizza and expensive gin though, he won't be pleased.

She's not going to throw up pizza and expensive gin, gosh. This isn't her first time at the pizza-and-expensive-gin rodeo.

Well, usually it was shit gin.

"Seriously, though. Have you ever had anything as good as pizza?" He was old. He was fae. He should have had some damn good food in his life.

He gives that a thoughtful hum; Eames loves food, and he's eaten a lot of it in his time. (He's also not nearly as enthused about pizza as Nancy seems to be, but that's neither here nor there.)

"Depends on your taste, but Arabian food was..." His sigh is a little wistful — Eames is a man of few regrets, but never getting one of those recipes is certainly up there, "there's not much like it these days."

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