undergrounds | Closed to Finnick

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Closed to Finnick

Despite however unpopular Norrell may be among the people, Childermass knew as soon as the man lost the election that there was something more to it than a simple loss. And while the man himself ranted and raved about recounts and injustices, Childermass knows that there is something more to it than that. So he sets himself to investigating.

Of course, it isn't easy to determine just what had happened. Which is rather the point, he suspects, as he follows dead end after dead end obviously set up for exactly this purpose -- to lead him off the trail. (Not that he wouldn't put it past a Midnight coven to have tried something like this, but certainly not this one, not on a scale such as this one.)

It isn't until he's nearly given up that one of the younger, mouthier members mentions something about the fae that catches his attention. Enough to merit looking in that direction as well. Of course, the fae would always be suspect anyway, considering Norrell's targeting of their people, but with little else to go on Childermass hardly knows where to begin. Save to listen in on all of them and go from there, he supposes.

And thus does Childermass find himself disguised in shadows and patrolling an area where the fae have congregated, in hopes of...what? An answer falling into his lap? He doesn't quite know yet, but he will when he finds it, that's for certain.

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Finnick can smell a witch a mile away. He can especially smell a powerful witch milling around among the low powered fae he's checking in with tonight, and it's an understatement to say it puts him on edge. He watches Childermass watch the fae for long enough to know he's up to something, that he's no friend to them, and he decides he should do something about it.

He slips away from the fae he's speaking with to get closer to Childermass, as subtle as he can be in the bustling bar. It wouldn't do to come off as paranoid and defensive right away, so he puts on a smooth smile and a suggestive voice as he appears beside Childermass, turning square to him and leaning into his space a little.

"Looking for someone?"

Childermass glances at the other, unsurprised to have been found out despite the fact that he had been using magic to disguise himself. From the feel of him, the man is fae, and though Childermass' magic is strong, he has never been formally trained. And never really had a true cause to use it beyond a few rapid defenses of Norrell when he'd found himself in trouble, and disguising himself for skulking around spying.

As he'd just been caught doing now.

Of course, he's not new to this. He hears that tone in the other man's voice and gives him a once-over, as if this was the most normal interaction in the world. "Perhaps I am," he responds, idly.

"Well, maybe I can help," he responds, even smoother than before, stepping a little closer into his personal space. He's naturally good at using magic to be a little more... enticing, and whether or not that's what Childermass is here for (it's likely not), it's an easy way to get his focus while Finnick tries to determine the witch's intentions.

Childermass can feel something of a tug of magic, but he's not trained enough to be able to recognize the other's glamour for what it is or for what it's doing.

"Perhaps you can," he replies, glancing up at him as he steps closer, clearly not not liking what he sees. Of course, he doesn't know who exactly he's talking to. And though he can feel the magic coming off of him, he doesn't exactly know what the other man is as well. With any luck, the man does not recognize him either. He must tread cautiously in this conversation.

"Have you ever heard of a man," Childermass posits, watching the other's reaction directly as he does, "named Gilbert Norrell?"

If Finnick didn't have an excellent poker face, he might grimace, but he's had years of practice and his immediate reaction is confined to a brief flash of recognition in his eyes that he can't help. Then, he smiles, tilting his head. He can't lie but he can certainly make his knowledge of Gilbert Norrell seem far more casual than it is.

"Of course I have," he says, still low and smooth, "he's quite infamous."

Childermass inclines his head in response to the reaction. It's definitely not given him too much, but he knows that it's given him something to go on. And it means he needs to sink his claws deepe.

"Infamous," he says, with something of a chuckle. "That's certainly one way of putting it. Though I suppose it would be more so now that he's been voted out of the Night Council."

"Mm, I heard about that," Finnick says, absently as if he doesn't much care, giving Childermass a glance up and down like his presence is too distracting to think about politics. "What a shame that must be for him."

Childermass cocks his head at the other man and offers him something of a smile. What counts as a smile for Childermass, at least. "I'm sure that it was. To go into his campaign expecting no issues with his re-election, and to suddenly find himself so usurped."

He leans forward towards the other man. "You see, the reason I ask is because. I was told there was someone in this place that might know a little something about how that came to pass. You wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?"

How it came to pass...? Finnick had just assumed that the witches had miraculously come to their senses and voted them out, though maybe that was very naive. He gets a bit nervous at the prospect that Norrell has sent henchmen to investigate the fae for this, but instead of showing any of that on his face, he pouts a little like he's just slightly put off that they're still talking about politics instead of flirting.

"No," he says, "and I doubt you'll have much luck here. I wouldn't describe this crowd as very... political."

If Childermass had been there for the flirting, he might have perhaps let the whole thing pass them by and gone on for other conversations. But he knows that he's on to something, he knows he's in the right place, even if he might not be speaking to the right person. He can't be certain of that. Not until he presses further.

"No," he acquiesces. "I suppose not. But I can see why this particular crowd might have a reason to want Mr Norrell out of office." He gives the other man a very direct look. If he had not made it clear he had known what he was before, then he is certainly doing so now.

Finnick never assumes a witch can or can't tell what he is, but that look does make it clear, and his disposition shifts just a little to show he is taking this quite seriously.

"Many have a reason to want Mr. Norrell out of office," he says flatly, straightening up a little. He glances around the room - maybe he should move this where the oblivious fae won't see, where they won't be in the firing line if things go badly. "Perhaps we can discuss this further if we move outside."

Childermass shrugs slightly. He doesn't really mind one way or the other where they have their conversation, just as long as it happens. And he can see that he's hit something of a chord, with the other man. Whatever sort of chord that is only time will tell, he supposes. He gestures towards the door.

"By all means," he replies, moving to stand. He will let this other take the lead. But he will not take no for an answer. He will understand whatever there is to know from this place. And he is tired of lurking in the shadows to do so. Perhaps he is tired in general, and it is making him sloppy, it is hard to say for certain.

Finnick gives him a tight, brief smile before he starts toward the door. He's still moving at a leisurely pace, so as not to call and suspicion, but he does stop at the coat check to speak to a fae woman working there, giving her a few quiet words and a smile as he gestures toward his jacket. She hands it over with an odd sort of care as she glances at the witch behind Finnick, but only because she can see the trident she's handing him. It's shrouded from everyone else's view, a trick Finnick picked up years ago to conceal it, a bit of magical misdirection taking attention away from anything that might lead a person to believe there's a very deadly, nearly invisible object in Finnick's hand.

He leads Childermass all the way outside and to the entrance of the alley between the bar and the next building, and there he finally speaks to him again.

"You should go back to Norrell and tell him to stay away from us. He should keep hiding behind his laws."

"Mr Norrell did not send me," Childermass counters. If he were being smarter about this, he would not let himself be directed into an alleyway with a stranger such as this. But he wants to get information from the other. And he has more than a feeling that this fae knows more than he is letting on.

"I came of my own accord," he continues. "And I am not leaving until I find my answers. What part did the fae have in the sabotage of the election?" His voice is harsher, more direct this time. While he might have loved to flirt and beat around the bush some more, now is not the time for games.

Finnick keeps his distance, turning his body toward the street to conceal his hand and the trident in it even further. His priority is to keep this witch away from the fae inside. If nothing else he sees that as his primary duty as a lord; keeping Seelie fae safe when he can.

"None that I know of," Finnick replies smoothly, though his heart is already beating hard with adrenaline, "and you won't find any answers here, because I won't allow you to question any fae under my care."

"Then I will question the fae that are out of it," Childermass replies, levelly. He takes a step forward towards the other man.

"You may not know the truth of it, but someone must. These things do not happen by themselves. No matter what your opinion of Mr Norrell, a wrong has been done to him. And I aim to get to the bottom of it. And if you are not here to aid me, sir, then you might get out of my way." He takes another step forward -- a small one, but definitely intending to close something of the distance between them. Childermass is not a man to be intimidated, especially not when he knows he is so close to his answer.

Finnick flinches away from Childermass. It's a small gesture, but it's there, a small hint at just how hard his heart is beating and how much he wants to get away but can't. He can't just let this witch go now knowing he's going to continue down this path.

"No," he says, turning to try and physically block Childermass from leaving, "you will stay away from the fae. I don't care about your elections and I won't let you harass us, whether it was a fae who did it or not."

Childermass could care less about the elections himself, truth be told. It isn't the fact that Norrell has lost so much as the fact that someone has seen to it that Norrell has lost that gives him pause. Is this all there is? Is there more of a threat to Norrell waiting to come? He cannot say for certain. Not until he gets to the bottom of it. Which he must, if he wants to insure his master's safety.

So he reaches his hands out beside him, fists closed, palms up, and opening them, calls forth a ball of flame each. He is done messing about in this alley with this fae -- what, lord? -- who obviously isn't going to let him get anywhere. Not like this. "It doesn't matter whether you care or not, sir," he growls in return. "You are in my way."

Logically, Finnick knows he's not the one cornered here. He knows he could run. But the fire and the look in the man's eyes makes him feel cornered, brings back all those feelings of helplessness and fear, and his posture shifts to something more tense and ready to attack.

"I will only warn you once, witch."

Childermass doesn't care whether or not the fae is warning him or not. He only cares whether or not he'll follow through. And the look in the fae's eyes says that he feels corners, but it doesn't speak to Childermass that he'll act upon it.

Childermass clicks his teeth slightly and moves to step forward and past the other man. Back towards the club itself. "I would like to see you try," he says, dropping a fire ball in between the pair of them just for good measure. Not really intending to hit the other man with it, but certainly wanting to further his threat.

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