undergrounds | waves that swallow quick and deep

It's not always up to her how she comes off to other people, especially when she's drunkenly yelling at them at their best friend's birthday party.

Faolan actually raises his eyebrows at that last one. "You're worried about me telling the Night Council information?" he says, incredulously. "You do know what Lancelot is, don't you?" Hell, the whole world possibly knows what Lancelot is, and it's not because his secret got out like it did for Faolan, but because the other man usually comes right out and admits to it instead.

"Yes. I am. Because I don't <>trust you." Her grip on her drink tightens a little.

"Lance has proven I can trust him. What have you done to earn the same?" She crosses her arms. "Lance never lied. " He wasn't up-front about it, but when he realized he had to be, he was. She'd been upset, of course, but he was a good person. And it didn't hurt to have someone in your corner in the Night Council.

'Lancelot never lied.' He huffs out a breath at that. He isn't sure that the other man is capable of it. Not a good lie, at least. And that's why he hadn't been chosen for that assignment. Lancelot is honest and good, and nothing like Faolan himself. Maybe she's right, to be angry at him. He isn't all that happy with himself, all things considered.

He looks back down at his drink himself. "Lancelot is a Guardian," he responds, "the same as I am. The difference between us isn't so much that I lied about it. It's because he believes in it too much to be able to."

"And then what exactly do you believe in?" Lance actually cared. He'd gone out of his way to help her, multiple times. The first time they'd met, he'd avoided giving her any sort of verbal warning all while giving her one. From there, it had been chocolate and condolences.

"It obviously isn't keeping the people safe."

Faolan gives her a pointed look that says exactly what he thinks of her assessment of him. If she'd paid attention to his platform for the Council at all, she would know. But of course she had been too busy feeling betrayed. Just like half the underground world as well, it would seem.

"Justice," he answers, his voice firm and direct. And probably not in the say way that Lancelot would mean the word either. He glances down at his drink once more. "It's why I don't blame you. For being angry with me. But it's like I said before. I didn't have a choice. And I suppose given the options, I'd rather Lancelot have recommended me for the ob than tried to take it for himself."

Truthfully, she'd been busy rigging the election, and hadn't really given Faolan's platform much thought other than this is not the man I know.

Nancy barks out a laugh. "Justice-! Oh, that's a fine thing to believe in. I hate to break it to you, but justice is one of the few things in this world that I know doesn't exist." If justice existed... A lot of things would be different in her life.

It hurts, to have her laugh like that. She had asked him what he believed in, and for once he had told the truth. He tries not to let that hurt color his conversation any further, but to do such a thing is to attempt to hold water in your hands. It will flow out one way or another.

"I know that," he grinds out. "You don't know anything about me, don't think that I don't know that." His family, slaughtered before his eyes. His little sister, taken by the vampires. Him, the lone survivor. Forbidden from rescuing her. Making his attempt anyway. They turned her for it, and she hated him for that. She had blamed him for everything. And he had too. Where was the justice in any of that?

But it was the possibility that he fought for. That he had to keep fighting for or else what was the point of it anymore? What is the point of any of it? There had to be the chance to make the world a better place. Somehow.

"You're the one who asked the damned question," he continues, perhaps a little more defensively than was entirely reasonable, given the circumstances.

Nancy resists the urge to roll her eyes, but only barely. "no, I don't. and I don't want to." It said something that she had no desire to get to know Faolan, when she knew so many that were far, far worse than him.

"Don't get testy- I asked and I happen to think its a shit belief. You'd be better off believing in pigs with wings. You know it doesn't exist, so why even bother?" karma, justice, anything like that and Nancy was hard-pressed to believe it was real. So much had happened to her to convince her otherwise.

"Unless you think that was what it was. Kenzi being turned as some sick form of justice."

Faolan resists the urge to roll his eyes at her in turn, hunching over himself and his glass. "Why should I bother explaining it to you if you're going to make fun of me for it," he retorts. It's not about what he thinks is real here and now, after all. It's about the fact that, with the right people doing the right things, it could be. But of course she wouldn't understand that sort of a belief, too young and hung up on her anger as she is.

"If you had paid attention to anything I had said during the campaign, then you would understand," he says instead, and hunches further over his drink.

"Make fun of you? Bloody hell, how old do you even think I am?" Okay, so she was making fun of him. But it was more pointed and angry then that. "I'm arguing with you, there's a difference."

She took a long drink from her glass, swallowing the gin down without a second thought, or need for a chaser.

"Ah, right, what you said during the campaign. Pity for you, then. I'm more of an actions speak louder than words sort of girl."

Faolan shoots her a long glance before turning back to his own drink.

"Perhaps you should have voted for me then," is all he replies. Not that he really wants to have been elected. Though maybe it would have gotten him out of being a Guardian -- now there's a thought. Possibly the only good one he's had about it since he'd lost, truth be told.

"Perhaps I should have. Pity you'll never know who was on my ballot." She'd actually been extremely busy, y'know, rigging the election against Norrell to really deal with any other candidates. Awful, yes. But she was young and stupid enough to be a one-issue voter.

"Pity indeed," Faolan repeats, in a manner suggesting he really doesn't care what a shallow young girl like how he conceives Nancy to be cares to put her time into.

He turns back to his drink. Well, she'll never have to deal with the thought of him being on the council. Certainly not this go around, and Faolan doesn't know how he'll respond if someone else puts his name up for the bid next tme. He supposes he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. He's already got enough going on these days as it is.

"I won't keep you from whatever trouble you were planning on getting yourself into before you realized who I was," he comments to her, taking another healthy swig of his drink as he does.

"I don't call it trouble," she tells him, picking up what he's putting down. She pushes away from the bar. "I call it making a living."

It wasn't a legal living, but it was hers, and she could own what little comfort that afforded her. "I hope she shows up." Whomever he probably wasn't waiting for. She also didn't hope she showed up, but it was a good exit line

Faolan glances up at Nancy, the implications of her exit line lost on him, considering he hadn't been much waiting for anyone. He'd been drinking by himself in the bar with no intention of having any company whatsoever. He supposed if company found him he wouldn't mind either way, but it certainly hadn't been something he'd been seeking out.

"She?" he asks, puzzled. Had that been a jab at someone in particular?

She gestures at where he's sitting, almost dismissively.

"Whomever you're waiting for. I'd hate for you to be stood up."

Faolan glances up at her, stupidly. Perhaps it's because he's had a fair amount to drink already, but it honestly surprises him that she thinks he should be waiting for anyone at all. She obviously thinks he's got better chances than he does. "Lucky for you, there's no chance of that," he replies. "No one is coming for me."

"What about you?" he finds himself asking. "Who are you looking for, in a place like this?"

Honestly, she's a little happy to hear that. Just a little.

"I'd call you pathetic, but I'm drinking alone, too." She proves a point by drinking herself.

"Anyone. Someone a little lonely, or someone a little drunk with a little extra cash." She finishes off her drink, it's incredibly liberating, in a weird way, to speak so openly about her job. To be able to be bitter about the sort of life she lead.

"Don't even have to have fangs."

Faolan isn't exactly going to judge her on what's morally right or wrong. There had been a time of his life when he'd done whatever he could for a bit of spare change. Opening up a vein for a vampire or his legs for a stranger were about the only two things he hadn't been willing to do, all things considered. He's certainly done worse than that, though.

"It's nice to know that you'd admit to the pot calling the kettle black," Faolan replies. He enjoys being so frank about such things as well, all things considered. Perhaps the alcohol has losened his tongue as well, but that's neither here nor there.

He glances aside at her, taking in her measure. She is pretty. But Faolan definitely isn't the sort of man to pay for such things. "So how does it work, then?" he asks, before realizing what the question sounds like and backtracking. "Do you find them, or do you wait for them to find you?"

Nancy takes a moment to process before he backtracks. "How does- oh. Both, sometimes. I'll approach someone and make small talk, make an offer. Or they'll chat me up and I'll tell them the price." She shrugs, it's not very glamorous.

"Other times I've got proper appointments. One Thursday night, for example." That was with a wealthy vampire. They paid better, in the long run. Had more money. Random Johns didn't care, they just wanted to get laid.

"It all depends, I guess." She flags the bartender down for another gin. She casts a long glance at Faolan and sighs heavily. "What do yo want?" to drink. apparently she is buying a round.

Faolan, who is halfway to raising his glass to his mouth for another sip as he processes that she gives him, pauses in response to her question. And then chokes slightly, swallowing the wrong way before he's even taken another sip of his drink.

Coughing pathetically for a moment, he moves to take a sip of his drink to try and help himself remember how to breathe, before he glances back at her and raises an eyebrow. "I... I beg your pardon?" he asks. Because he doesn't want to jump to any awkward conclusions any more than he already has.

Nancy looks at him like he's grown a second head.

"To... drink...?" She states, looking at him blankly. "I'm offering to buy a round." She gestures at the bar. His near-spit-take didn't pass by unnoticed and she's going to make him feel bad.

Offer's on the table, though, if that's what he wanted.

waves that swallow quick and deep

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