undergrounds | [closed] It's a bad case, you're on the rampage

Finnick; May 18th

All things considered, Eames thinks it's probably best he meets Finnick at his home in the Other Realm. He doesn't like it as much as his place in London — he has a gorgeous flat in Canary Wharf — but given the brief and panicked phonecall, he gets the feeling that the other man would prefer the relative security of Faery to navigating Islington territory.

Besides all that, it's a nice house. A little more Victorian that Eames' current tastes lean towards, but nice regardless.

He expects Finnick won't be long, and sets about putting some tea on in the meantime. Tea that is quickly taken over by a pair of luminescent pixies who encourage him to sit down and let them take care of it.

Having servants is weird.

Nancy; May 30th

He hasn't actually spoken to Nancy since that whole Havering thing. Not that he's intentionally ignored her for the past couple of weeks, these things just kind of happen with him. Apparently thinking nothing of it, Eames drops Nancy a quick text, inviting her round for lunch so they can discuss something, and starts making said lunch once he has a confirmation.

He's feeling Mediterranean today. Lots of roasted vegetables and couscous. Maybe some feta? That'll be a good meal. Good job Eames, you're so great at food.

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Way to make her worry more. Nancy shoots him a careful look as she walks in to the delicious smells.

"it smells amazing." Because yum, especially the part about the feta. But in the meanwhile, she's happy with tea. As happy as she can be perched on the edge of his couch. She keeps an eye on him. Just in case.

"what's the occasion?"

"Business, I'm afraid." The look he gives her is almost apologetic, but only almost, as he sits himself in the armchair by the sofa and takes a sip of tea. He'd make a joke about whether there needs to be an occasion, but in this particular case he's quite eager to get on with things.

"I think it's high time we dealt with Norrell."

"So I don't have to worry about anything having been done to the food. Good to know." She'll make the joke, if he won't. In a show of good will, she takes a sip of tea.

"Norrell. Right. " Which meant she was going to play an important part. "What do you need me to do?"

Eames totally glosses over the joke, totally not in the mood to humour any comments about tampered food. (After 600 years, it gets a little tedious.) He fixes Nancy with a level look, serious, because there's work to discuss.

"That invite of his-- for refuge, or safety was it? Does that still stand?"

Maybe, but he's not the one constantly at risk of being tampered with. She's maybe just a little bit paranoid, too.

"As far as I'm aware, yes." She could guess where this was going.

"Good." That makes this all so much easier, "if, for instance, he were to go missing. There'd likely be an investigation. And obviously it would be for the best if that investigation lead to a neat and tidy conclusion away from me."

"Of course." It made sense he'd want anything lead away from him. No one wanted to lead trails back to their source, in this sort of work, and Nancy was accustomed to it.

"Fagin?" That was to say, dare they try to pin it on him, or at least lead an investigation that way. It could come back to her, perhaps. But either way, she was a pawn to both of these men, in this situation. "If a trail has to be left."

It couldn't come back to Midnight, either.

Eames shakes his head-- it's too close. His relationship with Fagin hasn't been amicable in quite some time, and even if it was, the old bastard would sell Eames down the river the second a whiff of danger came knocking at his door.

Hell, it wouldn't even be the first time.

"I was thinking, for a miserable little man like Norrell, losing the election must come as a significant blow. It couldn't be too surprising for someone to turn to dark magic in a desperate need to get some of that power back." He gestures broadly, as if discussing the plot of some TV show rather than suggesting planting evidence in a man's home, "some books, a couple of items in his study. It makes the whole case very simple to solve. Obviously his attempts to get stronger backfired."

Nancy lets out a long exhale, a weight from her shoulders lifted.

"You want to destroy his reputation, too." He didn't need to confirm any of it, she knew exactly what he was planning on doing. Pinning any disappearance on Norrell himself, make him look like the worst sort of hypocrite. And Nancy was going to be the one to plant the evidence.

"I can get inside, alright." And sneaking around would be even easier. Eames knew exactly whom he was speaking to, after all.

Eames winks over his mug as confirmation. No need to get into the details there, though it's insanely simple as far as plans to plant evidence go, and he raises a finger while he takes a sip of his tea to indicate he still has more to say.

"Amongst those items, I'd also need there to be an anchor. Something so I can find my way there from Faery."

"Going in the backdoor, eh?" Her apprehension is gone, a tight ball of energy replacing it in her chest, bright and clear. She shouldn't be so excited- but this would rid them all of Norrell. The anxiety would return in the hours before she did the deed. But not tonight.

"Just ensure I have the items, and tell me when." She'll go in one night, after work. Best if she looks awful. Smelling of sex and blood would send out a more pitiable message than if she just strolled up one afternoon in her trainers.

Edited 2016-06-07 21:54 (UTC)

As many colourful names as Eames has for Fagin, he sure does know how to raise a competent criminal. He exhales a relieved sigh — he was fairly certain Nancy would be willing to help out with this, but there's no such thing as being 100% sure until he's asked. And now it means he has a way to finally get rid of that blight if all goes to plan.

"I'll have everything to you inside of a week." And then it's just a matter of picking the right time.

"Wonderful." Inside of a week. She could do this.

"Do you care what I tell him?" To get her inside. "Your name will never be uttered." His name, or anything close to it.

He shakes his head, "not unless you're planning to confess the second he opens the door."

It's a joke, of course. He doesn't think Nancy would do that.

"Oh, that's my plan alright." She's as sarcastic as they come. "Didn't you know? Fagin raised criminals, but we're at least honest criminals."

Eames laughs at that and shakes his head, "and here I was thinking you were all consummate liars."

"No- you're incredibly wrong. I've never told a lie in my life, and I don't intend to start now." Which, in and of itself was a lie, and she knew it.

He huffs an amused snort and stands to go check on the food, "careful. You keep saying stuff like that and I might believe you."

Nancy turns her head to follow his movements back to the kitchen, raising her eyebrows over the top of her tea.

"I'd like to think you know me better than that. That smells delicious- what is it?"

"Just some roast veg," he pops his head out to look over at her, "cous cous, et cetera-- you're not allergic to anything, are you?"

"Not that I know of- it sounds amazing. I always adore your cooking." He'd had a lot of time to practice and learn, she always reasoned.

"As you should." He's no chef, but Eames is a damn good cook. Centuries of travelling and a natural curiosity are pretty cool that way "Should be about ten minutes"

[closed] It's a bad case, you're on the rampage

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