undergrounds | In fact I have been all over town

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In fact I have been all over town

I. Hoar's Head (Closed to Evie)

Who is Natasha to argue with good atmosphere? Evie described the place as Marie Antoinette's attic, which is both amazingly accurate and misses its exact charm. It feels private, which Natasha respects, and there's something about it that's not as masculine as a lot of bars. She doubts she needs to worry about fights breaking out over a girl or the latest football match.

As she walks toward the bar, she scans the room for Evie. She couldn't be the first one here, could she? It's five past ten now, and Evie didn't strike her as the type to be late.

II. Guilty Pleasures (OTA)

It's been a while since Natasha said she'd stop in, and it might be too late now. She's heard that Kenzi's not around anymore and that was supposed to be her reason, right? Keep an eye on the girl. Give her a friend, someone who knew what she was going through. Someone who wasn't her sire to help her adjust. Natasha considered not even coming in...

But here she is now.

If nothing else she's hoping to see how Cherry's doing, that she was safe and comfortable since Natasha and Evie rescued her last month. Make sure that she's back to normalcy. That's why Natasha comes in on Lady's Night. Or it's a good excuse to come in on Lady's Night. Either way.

It's well into the evening when she shows up, taking a seat at a table near the corner with a good view of the room and orders herself a gin and tonic. She keeps an eye on things from there, not asking after Cherry directly or looking for Jean Claude. If either of them actually want to speak to her, she imagines that they'll know she's here before long. Maybe it was a passive approach, but she was fine with letting them decide whether or not they wanted to talk to her again.

In the time being, well, she has plenty of money.

III. Dark Corners (Closed to Arthur)

Natasha tries not to think about how long it's been since she fed, but it's not very successful. The thirst won't let her forget it. Even if it's not at the front of her thoughts, it's always there somewhere in the back of her mind.

It's been about the same length of time since she's had sex. Not unrelated. The two things had often gone together for her, and while she'd played with the idea a little, even gone on a date or two, but it never went anywhere. Natasha wasn't in the place for a relationship, and she hadn't wanted to lead anyone on. But there's no reason she shouldn't have some fun.

Tonight, she doesn't intend to give anyone the wrong idea. She walks into the bar knowing what she wants. It's a little bit more upscale than most of the dives she frequents, and the dress she wears could be shorter, could be tighter, but she's dressed to attract attention rather than deflect it. If she turns heads, it's intentional.

She smiles when she spots a familiar face. She remembers Arthur from Lancelot's birthday. Their chat had been fine—and he was certainly attractive enough. Internally, she shrugs. Why not? She could do a lot worse. She'd even considered making a play for it at the time, but Arthur had left with another woman and no hard feelings that he had.

But if she's going to get a second chance?

Natasha sits beside him at the bar, crossing her legs pointedly as she swivels an eight of a turn toward him. "The accountant, right? You might not remember me..."

IV. Fresh Air (Closed to Eames)

On the street, panting warm night air and trying to calm a raging thirst: not Natasha's finest moment. She's not even sure what she left behind her. She thinks Arthur was saying something as she disengaged and chased herself away from the situation, but she hadn't registered what he was saying over the pounding in her ears. Perfect.

She leans back against the brick wall behind her, steadying herself.

"Shit." She is a mess.

And now she has an audience.

V. After Hours (Closed to Daryl)

Looks like Natasha is going to have a chance to do some of the tourist things after all. Maybe she should have begged out, but Daryl and asked her if she wanted to go and she'd said yes. It's not like she really had anything better to do. It's not like she doesn't want to spend more time with him. Daryl has been good for her, refreshingly nonjudgmental for all his awkwardness.

She waits for him to meet her on the street near near the Redbright Institute. She's still not entirely sure this is a good idea, but as far as bad ideas go, she's had a lot worse.

VI. Grocery Delivery (Closed to Alex))

Alex has been relocated to a nondescript little apartment in a bad neighborhood, paid for in cash by Natasha with a little extra to keep quiet. The landlady is a Russian woman in her sixties, and after a hushed, serious conversation in their native language, Natasha was confident that money wasn't the only reason she wouldn't mention the suspicious circumstances of her new tenant's arrival.

It was a good move, for the short term at least, and Natasha was starting to think that she might just be able to keep the werewolf alive through the end of the month.

After a few days in the new place, Natasha checks in again. She brings two bags of groceries, since Alex still shouldn't be outside where she can be seen. Even during the day, there were too many ways word could get back to the nest if she were spotted. Or that word could get back to the Night Council. Either way, the end would be about the same outcome for both of them at this point.

"I brought you a couple of steaks," Natasha says as she brings the bags in. "I wasn't sure what else you'd like, so I went ahead and guessed." Her tone is light, inviting Alex to let her know if there was anything in particular that she'd like in the future. "There's a book of sudoku, too."

Once the food is on the counter, she turns and takes in the flat quickly. No sign of trouble, at least.

"Anything else you need before I get out of your hair?"

VII. Choose Your Own Adventure

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"Who am I to question that," she says in response to that. "That's about the only way I was going to get a tour anyway."

She'll let the conversation lapse from there so they can get moving, unless he has something more to add. She doesn't press too close as she finds her seat behind him. She does have to be close, but she wasn't entirely blind to his discomfort last time. She doesn't have a problem trying to respect that—and she's not exactly afraid of falling off.

Daryl doesn't try to add anything. He was perfectly fine going quiet and letting the engine do the talking at that point. The drive took a decent amount of time with the kind of traffic the major roads saw, especially around the palace. He brought them right up to the gates and pulled a genuine card-stock invitation Natasha might be able to make out gold foil lettering on. Definitely on the posh side of things. His ID was handed over after that and in short order, both were passed back and the gates opened. They were directed where to park and as he was cutting the engine, the two were greeted by a high-heeled, very prim and proper woman.

"Hello, Welcome to Buckingham Palace," she said with a smile that was so well-practiced it actually looked genuine. "My name is Matilda Brown and I'll be your guide this evening. It's a pleasure."

Daryl ducked his head and gave a quiet hello while he slid off the bike and started packing his helmet up.

Natasha returns Matilda's smile with equal ease, and just as well practiced. If it's not sincere, then she does a stunning impression of sincerity. "The pleasure's all mine," she says, a chuckle in her voice. "I hope we're not keeping you here late."

She might not be as prim as the English woman, but Natasha holds her own well. She also smoothly saves Daryl from having to be the center of attention if he doesn't want to be. Natasha's his guest; the least she can do is handle the small talk.

Matilda read the atmosphere between the two and shifted her focus to Natasha without skipping a beat, "You're doing nothing of the sort. Once you're ready, we'll head inside. Anything you leave here will be well guarded, but if you'd rather bring a carry-all with you, that's perfectly acceptable. We will be seeing parts of the palace not normally on the tour, so I must inform you that any such bags will be checked before you leave. But, please, don't take it as a mark against you. It's simply policy."

Natasha spreads her hands, showing that they're both empty. She only has what she's carrying. "Who am I to say no to policy?" she says with easy humor before glancing back at Daryl. "Anything you needed to bring with us?"

Daryl shook his head and found a place just behind Natasha's elbow. Not exactly hiding, but not exactly leading, either. He rubbed his hands on the sides of his jeans before bringing them to his hips, "I'm good."

Matilda beamed at them, "Wonderful. Most guests spend about two hours for their visits, though tours usually take about one. We will be visiting seven of the nineteen state rooms, all of which are usually off limits during this time of year. The tour will finish with a walk through the garden. If you'll both follow me?" And with that, she was off with a brisk pace.

Daryl waited a moment for Natasha to start walking before he brought up the rear.

"Lead the way," Natasha says as she falls into step behind Matilda. She matches the other woman's pace easily, her expression settling into a slight, satisfied smile. It's a new experience, being welcomed into a palace like this. Maybe not openly, but still.

She asks a few questions as they walk, mostly empty and listening to the answers with only half an ear, but enough to give the impression of being interested as her attention wanders over the sights around them. Occasionally, she glances back at Daryl, but at least for the time being, she doesn't direct any of her conversation at him—just using her eye contact to keep him included.

Daryl followed along quietly. He didn't look like he was really paying attention to anything, his eyes drifting across all that they were shown far too fast. Hands fidgeting at his side like he wanted to be done with it as soon as it started. But every now and then he'd voice a question and each time he did Matilda looked surprised at how insightful it was. She clearly thought he was wasting her time more than Natasha was despite her professional veneer. It really wouldn't have been noticeable if not for the fact that it was just the three of them walking the halls as the staff went about their usual business.

He didn't make conversation with Natasha, either. When she caught his eye, he'd lift the side of his mouth in a pseudo-smile before his eyes drifted away again. His attention to every detail much more pointed if Natasha was paying any kind of real attention to him.

It was only when they got to the garden that he finally asked if he and Natasha could walk it on their own. Matilda agreed and said she'd be waiting for them at the entrance, but if they took more than two hours she would have to come find them. The palace might have been open to them, but it was only open so long.

After she left, Daryl stepped in a little closer to Natasha, elbow brushing her arm, "You having fun?"

"Yeah," she says, and just briefly her smile seems a little more genuine. It has been nice. Not normal, exactly, but Natasha wouldn't know normal if it hit her anyway. "Yeah, it has been. I mean, look at this. It's beautiful."

She didn't exactly seem impressed by the garden or the palace, but she did enjoy it, and she enjoyed spending more time with Daryl.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to call me again," she says teasingly, nudging him back lightly.

Daryl ducked his head, a bashful smile breaking out that he did his best to hide as he stuck his hands into his pockets. A puff of air left him and he shook his shoulders in a not-quite-shrug, "Ain't done it on purpose. Been busy."

And after another second, he said a little quieter, "Wasn't sure if you'd want to do nothing, neither."

"Why not? I'm pretty sure I said I would." She gives him a teasing smile. "Do I seem like the kind of girl who'd lead you on?"

Honestly, she figures she does. Natasha isn't the best at being sincere, and if he read that distance as ambivalence, she could hardly blame him. She jokes about it to save him from having to say it.

"Dinner didn't go that badly, did it?"

"Nah, but that wasn't really... it was for business. Not... not this," he answered, elbows fanning a bit. The one nearest her tapping her elbow and making him feel self-conscious enough he let himself drift a little from her so it wouldn't happen again. At least not on accident.

"No, it wasn't." She shifts a little more toward him. Not much, but enough that he doesn't get too much away from her. She won't get inside his space, not close enough to bump, but she keeps the distance intimate. "Though that begs the question of just what this is. Not business?"

He went quiet. Quieter than usual. Kept walking along beside her as he gave some thought to that. He hadn't actually put the caveat that this was a 'not-date' when he invited her. But he wasn't sure it was a date, either. He wasn't sure he wanted it to be. He'd only seen her all of four times now. He did like her, just didn't know what that meant yet.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Not business.... an apology, maybe. For being busy. Maybe something else."

"If this is an apology, then let's call it accepted." She says that instead of arguing that he doesn't owe her one—not because he does, but because she doesn't want to push back. So she allows the apology, then adds, "Even if I don't know what else it'd be for. Especially when we've both been busy."

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In fact I have been all over town

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