undergrounds | The things we laid do not amount to much

[Faolan - Jul 15] This revolution baby

He's a lot more... Corteous than the last time he was in Hillingdon. Even going so far as to call ahead and see when Faolan has an hour free to talk. It's a little less dramatic than having a head delivered to your home, what he's come about this time. And somewhat more sensitive. It could well constitute thin ice for a Guardian, that's for sure.

Eames arrives exactly on time, with no airs about him, just makes straight for Faolan's office and knocks on the door. He's very patient and professional, waiting quietly with his hands in his pockets, looking around what little of the mansion he can see from where he's stood.

He really hopes he's not out here long enough to get bored.

[Natasha - Jul 18] Release the castaways who run amok

Why is Eames at Redbright? Well, it's a mystery. Or actually, it's not a mystery at all. He's here to make an appointment with the head, because apparently doing it over the phone or via email is just too much to ask for today, yet still easier than going through Council channels. And so he's here, at night to minimise his chances of having to deal with any children.

He's on his way out when he sees Natasha, and very nearly laughs when he does. Eames figured it was a fairly safe bet she wasn't Islington, but that still left countless other factions she could ally herself with, or even none at all. Judging by the look on her face as she walks to wherever though, seems like she's probably a Guardian. Which is hilarious, frankly.

Quietly, not that he expects her not to notice, Eames walks toward her and falls in step next to her. Quiet for a moment or two before he finally says, "what are the chances of bumping into eachother here, eh?"

[Sylvia - Jul 20] When present tense gets strangled in the mire

God Eames hates dealing with the 'officials', but one must do what one must. He's not just acting in his own interest anymore, which is a constant source of frustration for him.

Still, he's made his appointment and arrives to see Sylvia as arranged. Shown to her office with a confident stride as he makes conversation with his escort, entirely uncaring of the fact that he's the very guilty party in a current investigation. He wouldn't be surprised if they suspected fae involvement, but he also highly doubts they can find a shred of evidence to prove it.

"Ms Redbright," Eames greets with a friendly smile and a polite nod when finally allowed into the room, "thank you for agreeing to see me."

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"Hypothetically?" she says, arch. This is different from their last interactions. It's liberating in a way, not being caught in a moment of honesty. She feels more like herself this way. "Let's say a good job with flexible hours."

"Dream big, hm?" He's joking, of course, an easy smile on his face. It's always easy to settle into these conversations, the kind that are fun but mean little, and moreover he can practically feel the comfort coming off Natasha rather than the anxiety from the last couple of times they met. "It's not hard to find a comfortable 30k if you know the right people."

"There's something to be said for keeping a low profile," said with a gentle emphasis on low. She doesn't want to get into details, but Natasha imagines that he's sharp enough to guess why she might be interested n that. "The money's not so important, but the benefits..."

"Something low key? That's even easier." He can appreciate the desire for a low profile, he's spent centuries preserving his relative anonymity — his flats aren't even owned with the same name. Granted, it's also easier when you've got money to burn and the ability to change your face at will.

But even without the finer details of Natasha's life, he gets it, and shrugs a nonchalant shoulder, "lot of your sort work in security, actually."

"Security, huh? Somehow I don't think most people are smart enough to be afraid of the redhead who's about shoulder high to them in heels." Which they both realize is a problem for mortals, but the image of her being imposing is at once amusing and brings back memories.

"You'd be surprised." It's true, she doesn't exactly cut the most imposing figure. He'd almost pay to see her beat up some drunk asshole outside a club though. "But I take your point."

She lifts one hand, finger raised as though an idea's just occurred to her. "Maybe I should have become a bartender. I bet I have what it takes to make good tips, and maybe safer than coming here."

"You're not wrong,' she's gorgeous, charming, and he can tell she's probably good at making people think she gives a shit without giving much of herself away. "You strike me as someone who'd get bored behind a counter though."

"Maybe, though at the moment that might be part of the appeal." She glances around them, eyes flicking over the campus but somehow indicating the city at large. "I've had enough interesting to last a while."

She says that, but even as she does she knows that it's not true. She'd feel too at loose ends without real work to do.

Eames clearly doesn't believe her, eyebrow raised in disbelief as he looks at her, but he's not going to say it.

"It's not too late for a change of career."

"Hm. Maybe not. There's plenty of time for that if this doesn't work out." She snorts then, shaking her head. "Though if that happens, I imagine I'll be leaving town too."

"There's always Doncaster. They don't give a shit about anyone."

Hot tips from Eames. You're welcome.

Natasha laughs at that. "Really? Well, I'll keep that in mind."

The look she angles at him then is curious. "You know, I don't think I ever caught your name."

"Pretty sure I never got yours either," Eames smirks, a little amused they've managed to go without learning eachother's names this long. "I'm Eames."

The things we laid do not amount to much

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