Eames. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
falsify) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-04-24 09:46 pm
falsify) wrote in undergrounds2016-04-24 09:46 pm
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Well. Eames doesn't readily expect Norrell's 'manservant' to give up the man's secrets or give him an in, but one never knows without trying. In many ways it's better to get in with someone of service than the person in charge. Though Eames does question how much Childermass really is in servitude to the man.
Either way, he spends a little while deliberating on how best to approach him. He's seen Eames assault Norrell and knew him to be a fae before that, so using his own face is a no-go. Not in this instance anyway. It'd be easier if Childermass wasn't such a closed book, someone so remarkably difficult to find anything of note about. If he at least knew what the man was into, what kind of person he has a soft spot for, but no.
He'll just need to wing it, Eames supposes.
Kathryn will do, he decides after some deliberation. She's been to a number of events — dinners exalting Norrell, Daybreak fundies. All sorts of stuff. If not his time, she's at least familiar by association. Ostensibly a supporter of their position. Or at least not a detractor.
It's seemingly coincidence that has her at the same pub as him tonight with a group of friends, small-time witches and wannabe politicians. Nobody really worth anything. She walks up to the bar to buy another bottle of wine and gives him a curious look for a moment or two before sidling a little closer with an astonished, "Mr. Childermass!" She smiles broadly, friendly in all her manner, "how are you? Good?"
Either way, he spends a little while deliberating on how best to approach him. He's seen Eames assault Norrell and knew him to be a fae before that, so using his own face is a no-go. Not in this instance anyway. It'd be easier if Childermass wasn't such a closed book, someone so remarkably difficult to find anything of note about. If he at least knew what the man was into, what kind of person he has a soft spot for, but no.
He'll just need to wing it, Eames supposes.
Kathryn will do, he decides after some deliberation. She's been to a number of events — dinners exalting Norrell, Daybreak fundies. All sorts of stuff. If not his time, she's at least familiar by association. Ostensibly a supporter of their position. Or at least not a detractor.
It's seemingly coincidence that has her at the same pub as him tonight with a group of friends, small-time witches and wannabe politicians. Nobody really worth anything. She walks up to the bar to buy another bottle of wine and gives him a curious look for a moment or two before sidling a little closer with an astonished, "Mr. Childermass!" She smiles broadly, friendly in all her manner, "how are you? Good?"
Edited 2016-04-24 20:51 (UTC)
Normally, Eames has no problem moving on these things by himself. And he's confident in his plans, in his ability to pull things off without a hitch.
He is, however, not so arrogant as to think he can see everything on his own.
It's why he called Arthur — as much as he frequently finds the guy a pain in the ass, he's one of the smartest people Eames has ever known. And whilst not all of Eames' plans have come to fruition, Arthur has been an incredible asset when it comes to forming the best ideas he can with what he has available.
So he's an asset Eames intends to make the most of until their interests diverge.
He arrives at Arthur's door around the time he said he'd be over, knocking instead of just letting himself in so they can start things without Arthur being annoyed. Productivity is so much easier without it.
He is, however, not so arrogant as to think he can see everything on his own.
It's why he called Arthur — as much as he frequently finds the guy a pain in the ass, he's one of the smartest people Eames has ever known. And whilst not all of Eames' plans have come to fruition, Arthur has been an incredible asset when it comes to forming the best ideas he can with what he has available.
So he's an asset Eames intends to make the most of until their interests diverge.
He arrives at Arthur's door around the time he said he'd be over, knocking instead of just letting himself in so they can start things without Arthur being annoyed. Productivity is so much easier without it.
Teenagers.
Eames is far from a fan of them. A few notable exceptions here and there, but for the most part they are insufferable in such a delightful myriad of ways.
But a changeling only just coming into her powers? A potentially dangerous child who's yet to be disowned by the courts? That's something too dangerous to them right now. And as per usual, Eames is the only one in any position to deal with it.
He offers to meet her at a bar in Bromley to discuss what she wants to do, if she's willing to learn to use the power at her fingertips, and he waits out in the beer garden. It's a nice enough day, but things change fast enough. Thank god for heat lamps and patio umbrellas, eh.
Eames is far from a fan of them. A few notable exceptions here and there, but for the most part they are insufferable in such a delightful myriad of ways.
But a changeling only just coming into her powers? A potentially dangerous child who's yet to be disowned by the courts? That's something too dangerous to them right now. And as per usual, Eames is the only one in any position to deal with it.
He offers to meet her at a bar in Bromley to discuss what she wants to do, if she's willing to learn to use the power at her fingertips, and he waits out in the beer garden. It's a nice enough day, but things change fast enough. Thank god for heat lamps and patio umbrellas, eh.
Arthur opens the door looking like he's just come home from a meeting. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the top button has been undone, so it's as "business casual" as one can get. He raises an eyebrow at Eames - knocking is unusual for him - but steps back and gestures for him to come in.
"What's this about?" he asks, curious. He has his suspicions, with the election coming up and all, but he doesn't want to presume.
"What's this about?" he asks, curious. He has his suspicions, with the election coming up and all, but he doesn't want to presume.
"I want to run something past you," Eames says as he steps into Arthur's place, waiting for the door to close behind him before he says anything more. Not that he's paranoid, but you can't be too sure when it comes to disclosing your illegal plans.
He turns to face Arthur after, gesturing broadly, "I'm planning to rig the election."
He turns to face Arthur after, gesturing broadly, "I'm planning to rig the election."
Arthur gives him a flat look; he's not surprised by this but he's still very wary of getting involved.
"Sit down," he says, sighing as he gestures toward the couch. He nods toward the kitchen and asks, "beer?" as he heads into the other room to get himself a bottle.
"Sit down," he says, sighing as he gestures toward the couch. He nods toward the kitchen and asks, "beer?" as he heads into the other room to get himself a bottle.
Arthur comes back with two bottles of beer, and after he hands one of them to Eames he sits down in the armchair across from him and sighs. "Why come to me?" he asks.
"I wanted a second opinion, someone to make sure I haven't missed anything. Cover my blind spots as it were." It's pretty annoying, but no one is perfect, Eames included. And with things so tense, Eames has to be doubly careful not to be caught out. He sighs, gesturing to Arthur, "you, unfortunately, happen to be the best at that."
It's true, Childermass has seen her around at events, even going so far back as Norrell's first foray into territory politics and the celebratory party they had thrown afterwards. Though he can't quite say for certain who or what exactly she is. Though judging by the company she's calling out for him from, another witch perhaps?
He glances over to her and gives her a once-over, trying to place her name and failing before nodding slightly. "I am well," he responds. "And you, Ms...?"
He glances over to her and gives her a once-over, trying to place her name and failing before nodding slightly. "I am well," he responds. "And you, Ms...?"
"Kathryn-- Yuen." Still smiling, she tilts her head to try and gauge his mood. It'd be easier if he wasn't so impressively dour. Not one to be turned away by a little stand-offishness, her expression turns a little wry, "you know how a bottle or three of wine and a good night out does for a person's mood."
Or does he? It's kind of hard to imagine him enjoying anything openly.
Whatever. Kathryn glances around and then looks back at him, expression a little concerned, "are you drinking alone tonight?"
Or does he? It's kind of hard to imagine him enjoying anything openly.
Whatever. Kathryn glances around and then looks back at him, expression a little concerned, "are you drinking alone tonight?"
Arthur nods, looking down at his beer and working his jaw in thought. He's obviously apprehensive, but it's not like he doesn't think it's a good idea - it might be the best option for the fae and for anyone else who doesn't like the way things are going, but it isn't going to be easy.
"As long as none of it can come back to me," he says, and that's about as much of an agreement to participate as Eames will get. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"As long as none of it can come back to me," he says, and that's about as much of an agreement to participate as Eames will get. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"No, I'm not." He's not even a little bit sure that it's a good idea, but if Eames only ever did things that seemed like good ideas he'd lead an incredibly boring life. "But it would be remiss of me to pass up an opportunity to boot Norrell off his little throne, wouldn't it?"
It was nice of him to offer his help, all said, and deep down, Effy does...sort of appreciate it. She would like to tackle her issues by simply avoiding them -- it's not like she knows how to use any powers she might have, after all, so if she never learns, maybe she can pass as somewhat fucking normal, right? But...as much as she wants to, there's no way that approach can hold water in the long run. She's tried it before...wishing away her problems. Pretending they never happened. It didn't end well. That can't happen again.
She'll have to deal with this sooner or later, and while later is her preference, the potential "worst case scenario" part of her thinking means that sooner is more practical. So, Bromley it is.
The bar is not difficult to find, but she does hover outside for a little while before she summons up the determination to formally show up. Another minute to find him, and then to decide to approach. When she does, she slides into the seat across from him with a reluctantly congenial smile. "Hi."
She'll have to deal with this sooner or later, and while later is her preference, the potential "worst case scenario" part of her thinking means that sooner is more practical. So, Bromley it is.
The bar is not difficult to find, but she does hover outside for a little while before she summons up the determination to formally show up. Another minute to find him, and then to decide to approach. When she does, she slides into the seat across from him with a reluctantly congenial smile. "Hi."
"Afternoon." Wow that smile looks wrong on her face, but one has to appreciate the effort, he supposes.
He's got a beer and a little bowl of chips that he's picking through, more to have something to occupy his hands than out of hunger, and he gives Effy a curious look. Trying to gage her mood — she just seems like the kind of kid who's pre-emptively fed up of everything, how great.
"Drink?"
He's got a beer and a little bowl of chips that he's picking through, more to have something to occupy his hands than out of hunger, and he gives Effy a curious look. Trying to gage her mood — she just seems like the kind of kid who's pre-emptively fed up of everything, how great.
"Drink?"
Childermass enjoys himself on his own time, in his own way. Not that it's anybody's business but his own, as far as he's concerned. He shrugs a little in response to the question, not really giving it much thought before replying, "I had been, yes." He glances up at the woman, and the way that she had approached him, the way she is leading in, and wonders if she wants something. Still, he supposes a little company couldn't hurt.
"I could be persuaded otherwise, I suppose," he says, his lips quirking into a half smile as he gestures at a free seat by him.
"I don't know," Arthur says as he shrugs, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully as he thinks about all the ways this could go wrong. "You have visibility now. If you get caught or linked to something like this, it reflects on the Unseelie Court. They wouldn't just tear you down, they'd use it to discredit any other fae that tries to get involved with the Night Council."
Eames doesn't seem at all deterred by the potential ramifications, it's hardly as if he hasn't thought about them, and shrugs a shoulder. "Suppose it's important to make sure I don't get caught," he raises an eyebrow and tips his bottle a little toward Arthur, "which is why I'm here."
Not bad. Kathryn nods and retrieves her bag from the table before she comes back and slides into the offered seat, making herself comfortable with her glass of wine before she gives him a thoughtful look, looking over his face for a moment before she speaks.
"Drink alone a lot?"
"Drink alone a lot?"
Arthur sighs. On one hand, it's kind of flattering that Eames thought of him, but on the other, this seems like a disaster waiting to happen. "Alright," he says, after a pause. "What do you have so far?"
Arthur gets up, putting his beer down on the coffee table so he can open up one of the drawers and pull out the rolled-up map of London. He spreads it out and takes some of the objects on the table to keep it flat, then takes out the bag of markers he uses to delineate the faction borders. It's up to date, seeing as the borders have remained static for the past few months, but the ghosts of old lines in the sand are still visible.
God bless Arthur's fastidiousness. Eames takes out a marker and gives the map a once over before he leans over it to start drawing things out, explaining as he goes.
"There's eighteen boroughs with a vote for Witches Rep," he says, drawing hasty circles on them, "I can't rig the vote everywhere, for numerous reasons, so I've picked out areas most likely to vote for Norrell—" and so all the others get crossed out, being on the 'probably not a threat' list. Lambeth and Croydon are still on the list of potential places to rig, unsurprisingly, "and I've picked out weak links, people easy to bribe or blackmail in each polling station."
He pauses there, looking at Arthur to make sure he's following and see if there's any questions or comments thusfar.
"There's eighteen boroughs with a vote for Witches Rep," he says, drawing hasty circles on them, "I can't rig the vote everywhere, for numerous reasons, so I've picked out areas most likely to vote for Norrell—" and so all the others get crossed out, being on the 'probably not a threat' list. Lambeth and Croydon are still on the list of potential places to rig, unsurprisingly, "and I've picked out weak links, people easy to bribe or blackmail in each polling station."
He pauses there, looking at Arthur to make sure he's following and see if there's any questions or comments thusfar.
Arthur tilts his head at the map thoughtfully, partly thinking about how he's going to have to clean off all these marks, but mostly considering the plan so far. It's pretty straightforward, but that doesn't mean there are a lot of rooms for error.
"The vote will still have to be close," he says, thoughtful and not trying to be patronizing, "and you'll have to let him win a couple. It'll raise alarm bells if he goes from favourable to losing miserably."
"The vote will still have to be close," he says, thoughtful and not trying to be patronizing, "and you'll have to let him win a couple. It'll raise alarm bells if he goes from favourable to losing miserably."
"Of course, that's why I'm specifically targeting boroughs where he's a shoe-in," he wags the pen as he speaks, and swaps it out for another colour, scribbling some lines — routes, from the remaining stations back to the Night Council building — but he doesn't move on to them just yet, "I simply don't have the resources to hand to guarantee his loss, so I can't afford to leave those areas to chance."
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