undergrounds | waves that swallow quick and deep

This is a rare way to see Natasha. Not by design, exactly. She's not bothered by Evie's presence here. It's just that when she faces the world, it tends to be in a sort of armor, her appearance and her mean carefully cultivated for desired effect. Evie's caught her in a less professional moment, though; curled up with a coffee mug, still in the clothes she wore to bed, she still projects a self-contained air, but the professionalism is replaced by pensiveness.

Whether or not that's less imposing depends on you point of view.

"That would be ideal. Being able to support a movement or even a faction is safer than a leader." Leaders being demonstrably easy to dispose of when it becomes necessary. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

To Evie, it's hardly imposing. To her, it's a show of trust. Here is Natasha in a moment of vulnerability, caught unawares. And she'd let her in and was talking with her. She really was a different person then the woman she'd read about.

"And without the support, you can't do anything, anyway." Which was part of their problem- half of the members of the Nest adored Raymond and his edicts.

"The only suitable candidate I can think of right now is, well, Jean-Claude."

Natasha hides a slight smile behind the rim of her cup before taking another, healthy drink. Her gaze is on Evie though, and the look in her eyes shows both amusement and agreement.

"The thought had occurred to me too, but I'm not as much on the inside of the nest to say for sure." It is an interesting idea, though. "Does he have anyone in his corner? When I first met him, I had the impression he wasn't especially popular with the nest, but since then..."

Maybe his star had been rising? Natasha is clearly warming to this topic though. This sort of conversation was a part of her old life, but not so easy to leave behind. The fact Evie and Natasha were on the same page only made it more comfortable.

"I've been gone for years, at this point, I feel as if I'm as much on the other side as you are." She sighed.

"I'm keeping an ear out. Most of the dislike I'm sure was from his stunt with the dancers. Speaking of, I went to the club the other day, she's doing well." She hadn't gone for the women, obviously. Just to speak with JC and check in on Cherry.

"I haven't settled on him, but he's old. Far older than me, and knows how our government works. He's of a similar mind with humans, as well."

"I know." Another smile smile, this time a bit guilty. "I checked in myself. She wasn't in when I stopped by, but I asked."

Something Natasha wouldn't have done even ten years ago. Now... perhaps she's learned a bit of empathy, or at least curiosity about the state of those around her. Strange thing to only learn as a vampire.

"Jean-Claude seemed pleased I asked. And that I stopped by." Which did say something about him. "At the very least, we know he takes care of his own."

A smile broke across her freckled features. That was good to know, and helped, oddly, take a bit of weight off of her shoulders. Or perhaps that was just the whiskey loosening her up a bit?

"Meanwhile, I have a feeling Harris will throw any of us to the metaphorical wolves without a second thought." Maybe even the literal wolves.

Either way, Natasha doesn't mind seeing that smile. It means the other woman is relaxing. Considering the state that drove her to show up on Nat's doorstep, that wasn't a bad development.

"I don't doubt it." Especially her, but Natasha had been prepared for that when she sided against her own. "He might enjoy it."

The more she considers it, the better Jean-Claude seems as a choice. "I wonder if he's ambitious."

Planning, as it was, was helping her relax. This was something she could control, and it was already lightening the load on her shoulders to see it laid out before her.

"From what I've seen, yes. He was the one that suggested the duel against Daybreak the other month." She hadn't seen Natasha there, but had made a point to speak with Jean-Claude. The turn-out was upsetting, but it had been a unique experience. Certainly a possible way to minimize bloodshed.

"But he has a mind for politics. He's seen quite a lot."

"I believe that. A lot more than I have," she agrees thoughtfully. She drinks more, then adds more whiskey to her cup, sans coffee. Evie had been concerned, but she wasn't too worried about about drinking early in her day.

"We could do a lot worse." At the very least, she didn't doubt at this point that he was smart enough to understand the importance of keeping a low profile. He wouldn't draw serious attention to their community, and at this point, that might be what the vampires in the city needed most.

"More than either of us, and a lot more than a good number of the vampires in the city." You live long enough, and you see history repeat itself. Having JC on their side would surely turn the tides in their favor. He'd, ideally, be able to circumvent any issues before they even arose.

Of course, that was the ideal period.

"We could. And considering we have a lot worse in power..." She catches herself. She's not supposed to be planning with Nat. This life wasn't hers anymore, and she respected that.

Oh, good. A change of topic. Eames nods and turns toward Nancy, patting the space on the sofa between them for her to move closer. "Come here, turn your back to me."

"Considering?" prompts Natasha when the other woman trails off. Her interest in this subject isn't entirely academic. As a vampire living in London, it could have a very real impact on her life, to say nothing of local supernatural politics and the lives of the humans around them. But there's something enticing about returning to her old job, as well; she feels more like herself.

And maybe this is for a good cause.

"Good. A picnic, a motorcycle ride, 'n you by my side. This is going down as one of my top twenty most favorite days." As a vampire, Cooper often feels like he's constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nice things always have a price being a creature of the night. Right now, though, he's calm and at peace. There's little that could spoil his good mood.

"You make me happy," he says, sighing as he picks up a strand of Nancy's red hair, twirling it through one of his fingers. He feels a little corny saying it, but the vampire has never been one to tamper down his emotions.

Spy? His eyebrows loft in surprise, then Lancelot shakes his head quickly.

"No! No, good lord no. But you can probably understand that I must ask a few questions. Gilbert Norrell had plenty of enemies, but some were more... pronounced than others."

Louder. He shrugs minutely, digs for a small notebook and pencil and gestures with them vaguely. He can't believe she hasn't been questioned before, so she probably knows how this goes.

His top twenty most favorite days. She didn't know old he was, exactly. She didn't care how old he was. Nancy beamed. "Days, or nights, too?" she teases, dropping her head a little to nuzzle him with the tip of her nose.

"You make me happy, too." Happier than she can claim she's been in a long time. When she's with Cooper, everything seems better. He loves her like no one else ever has before. Sex is one thing. But romance, actual love, that's something completely different, and she knows it. Because she believes in love and in the goodness of some people even in this shitty, shitty world.

"I love you, you know."

She frowns at him, her brow furrowing. "You think I did something?" There was a slight note of panic in her voice. Innocent suspects got worried. It was just the way it often went.

There was no way any evidence could lead back to her. She'd been extremely careful. She'd taken everything she'd come in with out, hadn't wiped any running makeup off, nothing. There were few in the city who could have pulled something off like she did.

"I promise you, I had nothing to do with it, Lance." A bold-faced lie, as she looks up at him. She hardly looks the innocent she was in Norrell's office, all dressed up for work. "If my circle did, I've no bloody clue."

"Of course." She moved in so she was next to him and turned. Carefully, she slid her hand behind her neck and piled her sizable red hair on top of her head so he had free access to the well-bitten skin. She was at home, she had no need for glamours.

"I'm inviting you, by the way, to a dinner in a few weeks. A human friend wants me to move in with him, and I'd like him to meet my friends, before it gets to that." So maybe he can let her have them in the apartment. "There'll be plenty to drink."

"I can't bring you into this," she says after a careful moment. "I said I'd come here hoping for a friendly ear. I respect your wishes." But lord, if she had Natasha backing her up on this, between the two of them, then they just had to line up the dominos. Especially if they got JC and some of the others behind them.

Good lord it would feel good to get back into the old ways of doing things. She could practically feel the rhythmic chugging along of her old train hideaway. Pity Jacob had to go and destroy the bloody thing.

She needed to find a suitable replacement.

She paused. "But. If you're looking for redemption, a way to prove to the world you're not the same person you were in Moscow. I believe this is it." She leans back, holding her hands up, open-palmed. It was Natasha's decision if she wanted to hear more, if she wanted to join this.

"A human friend," Eames echoes as he takes the chain and lifts it around her neck, gentle and quick as he does up the clasp and adjusts it ever so to sit central on her chest. "Is he in the know?"

"He is." She drops her hair and turns around, showing off the necklace for him. "I met him when that underground club was attacked." And then he was bitten by a werewolf.

"Which is precisely why I'm having him meet some of my friends. He's not exactly..." She struggles for a word, and finally settles on it: "He's American." And doesn't trust vampires or fae.

"How does it look?"

Amazing, the thing that gets him to wrinkle his nose in distaste is the word 'American.' Not that he has anything in particular against them, there's just something about them that only ever grates on him when he's actually in England himself.

Still. Not a vampire, so it could be a lot worse.

He smiles at when she asks about the necklace though, and brushes a lock of hair forward to frame the pendant. "It's beautiful."

"So he's a lot-less... tolerant," she supposed was a good way to describe it. She's not going to explain she managed to lift his werewolf curse, because that's private. But he's really cute, and looks great without a shirt.

Nancy looks down, then back up again, blushing. She's got a boyfriend, but Eames is still complementing her. Or is he complementing the necklace? She's not sure. "You did really well. I absolutely love them, you know."

"I know." The compliment is for both, of course. Eames has never been one to shy away from telling people that they're goegeous, and the jewellery is beautiful. And suits her better than he'd assumed it would.

But enough about his great taste. ¤So, your friend..." What's the most polite way to ask if someone's a huge asshole? "I take it he doesn't get along so well with the... Magically inclined?"

"I don't know how he feels exactly about fae." She wouldn't call him an asshole. "And he understands what I do for a living. But there's a part of it he isn't too fond of, and the clients that come with it." So, yeah, he hated vampires.

"Last I heard, his girlfriend was a werewolf, so there's that."

Her fear gives him a stab of guilt, but he still can't rule out her involvement. Nancy isn't stupid, and he knows she and her circle dislike Daybreak and especially Norrell.

"I need you to tell me where you were on the 19th," he responds smoothly. Keeping his tone as calm as he can in the hope of not sounding to accusatory. "Your movements, anyone who can verify them for you. Where I might find them. That sort of thing. We have no official suspects at the moment." Which means she isn't an official suspect, something he hopes is reassuring.

waves that swallow quick and deep

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