[open] winded through monotone

[falsify]

1 // Late August // Ye Olde Sainsbury's (Canary Wharf/Tower Hamlets)

There's literally no other way to describe how Eames looks right now other than the words 'vacuum sealed skeleton'. It's just a Bad Look, and for a man with his degree of vanity it's pretty much the worst thing that could ever happen.

He does still need to eat though, and Eames refuses to hole himself up in his flat and have people deliver to him because pride is a frustratingly unhelpful vice.

Thankfully though, Eames looks sufficiently little like himself at this point that he's not worried about being recognised. He's kind of trying to own this 'walking corpse' look, even if none of his clothes fit and this cap feels dumb and people are giving him weird looks while he looks at the booze section. Like a man who has no business still being alive can't enjoy a drink. What a bunch of pricks.

2 // 5 September // Tate Britain (Southwark)

When you're used to a degree of fluidity with your presentation, being stuck looking one way with no control over what's happening to your body while it ages rapidly is suffocating. As much as he missed his face looking how it should, it's been something hellish not being able to change even the slightest of his features.

As much as he'd like to be doing something fun, however, business calls. Which makes it Alice's night.

There's a gallery showing in the Tate — a history of 19th century Communist art — and as a fence by any other name, Alice is responsible for securing a significant amount of the paintings on display. Aside from a tidy sum of money, she also has a VIP ticket for the opening night, so she turns up- suit on and magic suppressed.

Most often, she'll be found with the man in charge of this, being introduced to friends and anyone with enough money to be an 'associate' of his, but she spends a lot of time on her own looking at the displays too. Inspecting the paintings with an appreciating eye and a glass of wine that never seems to leave her hand.

3 // 1-7 September // The New House (Camden)

Thanks to an Asshole Who Will Go Unnamed, Eames has had to put some plans back significantly, and had to endure a lot of things he'd rather not do again ever in his lifetime.

He's back to himself and back on track now though, with a new house and everything. And a dog! A quiet and cautious rotteweiler he's put off on bringing home since he didn't exactly want to deal with what was happening to him and training a pet at the same time. Decorating and dealing with a pet, however, has been surprisingly easy. Especially now he's progressed to the upstairs. It does make everything take a little longer, but it's a worthy sacrifice.

Anyone with cause to visit his new place can be treated to this, and more! More being: Eames in a tanktop and tracksuit bottoms with paint splatters all over, beer, and being stared at by a dog trying to decide how to feel.

4 // Wildcard

PM, hit me up at FiremanSam, or just tag me. Let's party.

Comments

[outstandingbalance]

It's early September before Natasha gets around to calling Eames. Whether it's an unfortunate side effect of a long life or being busy with politics, sometimes vampires just aren't as prompt as they could be.

Luckily, she doubts Eames is going to be offended.

At least she hopes not because she's more than half hoping for an invite over. August has been trying and September isn't shaping up be much better. Natasha could stand to work off some tension. Maybe it's a bad idea looking for something like that with one of the fae, mixing too much temptation, but she's finally reached the point where she doesn't think she cares anymore.

1

[vampire_barbie_girl]

The thing Caroline missed most about college was having a meal plan. She hadn't appreciated it at the time but she realized now how convenient is was, having meals made for her, dirty dishes taken away when she was done. Now she had to squeeze in grocery shopping before work, waiting for the sun to go down enough so she could venture out.

Naturally, she had a thoroughly planned grocery list, organized by aisle. She stuck to it too, no impulse purchases for her. Finally, she reached the last item on the list: a bottle of Merlot to enjoy on her next night off. But there was an obstacle in her way - a man stood in the booze section and Caroline wasn't sure if she wanted to get any closer to him. She may be dead but he looked it. Vaguely, she wondered if he'd even have any blood for her to drink, were she so inclined.

The man was, of course, between her and the wine. After a brief pause, she decided screw it and walked toward him. "Excuse me," she said, "you're in my way."

Finnick

[falsify]

There's a few places they've met before, the kind of bars where fae tend to congregate without having to worry about the less savoury magical types around. It's easy for someone like Eames to forget how nice it is not to have suspicious eyes on you because of what you are in this realm, he's sort of gotten used to it as his de facto state of being.

For that reason it's no surprise for Finnick to prefer a place like this — he's starting to think the man is a little skittish about the mortal realm — and so Eames offers the man a smile when he sees him, beckoning him over to his table with a broad wave.

[specifiercity]

When Arthur shows up at Eames' new place, it's with a bottle of scotch in his hand and a touch of doubt in his head as to why he's even bothering at all. They're not really friends after all, but something told him he should at least locate this new house of Eames', get familiar with the territory just in case. In case he has to drive him home after another catastrophe of a party (because there's no way Eames is bleeding all over anyone but his own couch from here on out) or in case he gets a late night call to... well, whatever.

The point is he's here and he's already rung the bell so it's too late to turn around and leave. He'll just have to play at being nice for a little bit until they end up in Eames' bed or Eames kicks him out. At this point both feel equally likely.

vague wildcard gestures

[iustitiae]

It's weird being this angry. To be fair, he's always had a layer of petty anger that he wears a little bit like a hat but this was way deeper. It was the kind of anger he spent a lot of exhausting time fighting, because he keeps trying to tell himself that he doesn't care about the supernatural world and he doesn't want to be involved. But the truth is, he can't not be.

He's not Midnight anymore (his last tie had been Soeki and Soeki had left so long ago now, it was a wonder he'd been hanging on this long), but he still pays attention to the witches who had given him a home. It's bad enough when there's talk of them teaming up with the vampires, but worse still once the news emerges about Abigail.

It's obvious to anyone who has ever played a game of Risk (or anyone, really), what the next step is here. He should let it be. But neither Redbright nor the Vampires deserve this territory Soeki and his friends had kept for themselves.

So he goes to Eames. Maybe he hadn't been the best of help during his last claim, but he'd been there and that (he hoped) was going to gain him a couple points, if he couldn't earn them somehow else.

"She's going to strike, and everyone knows it," he's explaining over a cup of tea. At least he's managed to get a captive audience here. "All that territory, concentrated like that? It's not good for anyone." He's surprisingly calm, detached. Like he's delivering a statement instead of talking about something he actually cares very deeply about. But rationality, at the very least, has always been something he's been good at projecting.