undergrounds | waves that swallow quick and deep

"That's usually the formula," Natasha agrees, tapping the edge of her mug thoughtfully with one finger. "That would take more than just one well placed man. We'll need more. We need people we can get to support him—people with money..."

Her tone is considering. "Money and influence both. Either people who we could reason with, or people who'd respond to threats."

Evie nodded. "Exactly. I've been away from London long enough I don't carry the same influence I once did, and even so, I prefer to remain in the shadows." One of the reasons she actually vary rarely used her title.

"But money is something I have. Though I'll admit, I was hoping to put it forward to another train." But that was neither here nor there- this was a whole lot more important than her petty nostalgia.

Even if train hideouts were really freaking cool.

"I prefer to avoid threats where I can. I find they make bonds weaker."

Natasha shrugs at the comment on threats. The systems of threatening others for support doesn't need her protection, and she has no particular inclination to do it if she doesn't have to.

"My bank account isn't limitless, but when I left Moscow, it wasn't with empty pockets." Which is a nice way to say she had cleaned out several bank accounts that she had inherited from her sire when he died, deciding their holdings went to her rather than the Red Room nest.

"But even just words can go a long way. We could probably bring at least a few people around to supporting Jean-Claude that way. He's a pragmatic choice. Harris isn't making a strong argument for himself."

"I'm sure I could get the Council to support this," but that had her pursing her lips. "But their money is better spent somewhere else- this isn't Templar business." She would take this on as herself, as a fellow member of Islington, not as an Assassin. Well, she just happened to be one. It was different.

"We should, of course, speak with JC concerning this. He does have more than a pretty penny to his name." There were others, too. Perhaps Cesare, though she was cautious where the Borgia was concerned.

"His argument is simple rhetoric: free meals for everyone. and unfortunately, that's a very appetizing position. Pardon the pun."

"Should we..." There was something to be said for Jean-Claude not knowing about their support. It gave him more plausible deniability and avoided some potential for the appearance of conspiracy.

On the other hand, if they spoke to him, made him a real ally, then they could access his resources. And, with any luck, they would be able to rely on him to return the favor.

"You're right. At least one of us should bring up the subject."

"I'll float an idea by him, see if I can get a read." She knew him better than Natasha at this point, at any rate. "I won't come out-right and say it. But the best conspiracies are those when not all the players know their parts."

So see what he thought about the idea. If he was at all eager... She supposed they'd have to make the call.

"I was hoping to see him shortly, at any rate."

"You two have a date?" Natasha says it as a joke, without any particular sign that she means it. Her lips curl a little as she says it, teasing.

"I hope you're not in a rush to leave, are you? I was enjoying the drink."

Evie looks at Natasha incredulously for a moment. Did she seriously just- her and JC- she didn't know if she should be offended or complemented or- wait. She isn't even serious and Evie realizes it a bash too late and her freckled completion breaks into a smile. It's only a second before she laughs, too, shaking her head.

"No, it's not a date, I wanted to see how he's getting on with his new secretary, but ," she waved the thought away, another dry joke.

"No, I'm not in a rush tonight, and if you can make me laugh like that again, it's more than worth staying."

"We'll have to see what I can do." The response is smooth and light, the look Natasha gives amused. The coffee must have helped, or perhaps the subject matter because she doesn't look the least bit tired anymore.

Her expression falls slightly after she says it, though. "I suppose he's had to change his staff up some since Kenzi left. Is his new secretary anyone special?"

"I don't think so- Kenzi at least was his progeny. Poor girl." She shook her head- she'd heard about the rehab situation. She was fond of Kenzi, oddly. Even if she had driven her up a wall.

"Wasn't a particularly great great secretary, mind you."

"Poor girl," Natasha echoes. She'd tried to help Kenzi out—not because she thought Jean-Claude was lacking, but because she felt like the girl could use the extra support. Natasha herself had been a very bloodthirsty newborn once.

"Hopefully things work out for her."

"I certainly hope so. We can all relate, after all." She can remember the awful first years of vampirism.

"I could have hoped for better for her. I'd say her sire gave her a head start." Even now, Natasha can't be bitter toward her maker for allowing her to be a killer; she'd been chosen because she was a killer, it was part of what he'd seen in her. But it did mean he'd only valued self-control so far as it prevented her from blowing her covers.

waves that swallow quick and deep

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