undergrounds | & you could run so fast & fade away- sept. open post

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& you could run so fast & fade away- sept. open post

September 6, late night: open

It was a text that had done it in the end. A text from one of the other Shadow girls to all of them- Abigail had been arrested by the Guardians. Geap Manor was in flames. and they were coming for the rest of them.

Nancy didn't waste time. She tossed whatever she could into an enchanted bag- unsure if she'd ever be able to return to her apartment. Anything of value, be it sentimental or monetary was grabbed, but she knew her time was limited. While her flat was in Colin Coward's name, rather than her own, she knew they'd be on to her.

With Juliet at her side, she snuck down her fire escape, a spell muffling her footsteps. She dressed as unassumingly as she could- jeans, a hoodie and trainers. Without makeup on she could have been anyone. Hood up, she crept through the side streets. She had to get out of Enfield as soon as she could, had to find some place to hide. And she knew exactly where that was. The trick was getting there.

September 7, early morning: closed to Cooper

It was nearly morning, by the time Nancy found herself at her destination, right outside Cooper's door. She knocks, rather than barges in, rapping her fist three times against the door as quick as she can. A moment later and she's looking over her shoulder, wondering if perhaps she'd been followed.

No, she couldn't have been. She'd gone the long way, taking unnecessary detours, getting on and off of the tube at the same station. She'd kept her face covered, away from the CCTVs as best she could, staying in the dark. Nancy couldn't have been followed.

Juliet paced back and fourth behind her, having followed her the whole way. Standing in front of Cooper's door, Nancy knows she's nearly safe, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins won't let her stop, won't let her think about anything other than getting safe. What's just happened hasn't sunk in yet. But given time, it will.

September. 12, afternoon: Closed to Eames

Nancy keeps looking at the door of Eames' new flat, her back straight. There's a puppy in front of her, and she's eagerly petting him, but her heart isn't quite in it. "I can't believe you got a dog," she tells Eames, looking away from the door for a moment. "What a sweetheart, aren't you, Boxer?"

A dog, a new house, a new title. It was funny, in a way: as Nancy's world crashed down around her, Eames' star seemed to be rising in his court. Good- she liked seeing him happy.

Mid September: open

For the rest of the month, Nancy is keeping to the shadows. She's cautious, hardly daring to go out at night, even though she knows now, in Islington territory, she's safe. Redbright won't be able to find her, or if she does, she can't do anything about it. So she hopes, though it's been made clear that traditional rules are quickly being thrown out the window.

When she does go out, it's to work, and even that's taken a turn for the worse. Since Harris had ascended to power, work had been drying up, and what had happened at Harris' party had certainly sent a message, as Cesare had said. Worse, still was her apartment in Enfield was a place she couldn't yet return to- a place to work. As such, most nights she's in bars and back alleys, if she didn't have appointments set.

She keeps to herself, though, eyes carefully glued to the door of any building she's in, quick to glance over her shoulder.

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Cesare hasn't spoken to Nancy since their talk in his office. He hasn't requested her services, nor reached out in anyway. He's allowed her to wander about the hotel as she pleases but otherwise, to be honest, he's been ghosting on her. He still hasn't quite forgiven her for her and her boyfriend's actions.

So he isn't exactly planning on seeing her tonight. In fact, he hadn't really been planning on seeing anyone drinkable who he'd let live. With Raymond Harris in charge and his rules, or rather lack of them, in effect, Cesare and his pals have been using the opportunity for a drinking spree. They're a rowdy bunch, drunk on blood and booze, all expensively dressed and swaggering. They're the type of group you avoid at night if you have any sense.

Cesare himself doesn't look quite as much of a mess as the others, the large bloodstains hidden by the darkness of his shirt and only a splash of red visible on the skin of his neck. But being the best of a bad bunch does not exactly make you good.

He spots Nancy in the shadows and makes his way up to her, telling the others to stay back for now. (Not her, everyone. Calm down. Not yet. Take a cold shower, Victor.) He looks her up and down and smiles.

"I didn't buy you that."

Nancy wasn't planning on seeing Cesare, either. She'd done her part of it all- she'd reached out to him and apologized on both her and Cooper's behalf. She assumed everything was taken care of, and when he wanted to see her, he'd see her. But the longer it went on, the more disappointed she tried not to be.

And because she wasn't planning on seeing him, she hadn't exactly dressed to run into him. Her look tonight was far more common than he would have been used to, to put it politely.

In the dark light, she doesn't notice the blood on his shirt or on his neck, instead caught off-guard by his arrival seemingly out of nowhere (vampires.) "I- no, you didn't." Some terribly made short skirt and bra that pushed her already ample chest sky high.

She looked like the whore Cesare probably thought she was.

"Hi." If he wanted something, he'd tell her.

Nancy looks different. Really different. Cesare tries to remember what she looked like when he first met her, whether she was dressed more appropriately or he morphed her into that later. But his memory is hazy. He's drunker than he would like to be. Far drunker than he likes to be when he's with her. He likes to retain his control and he knows that when he's in this state he starts to lose it. But that is a thought that you have before you drink too much, not after, and Cesare's brain is too addled for him to take a step back and leave Nancy alone. Instead he takes a step forward, leaning against the brick wall beside him.

"Turn around, would you?" He wants to see her properly, and so he simply asks her to show him, not paying her but acting like he is.

Nancy can't recall ever seeing Cesare drunk before, but she can recognize it, the way he moves. It's worrying- but not enough to get her to leave, either.

Any other night, and she'd like to think she'd tell him no, that she wouldn't turn around. If he were any other person, she'd tell him to go fuck himself. But this was tonight, and this was Cesare and before Nancy even realized what she was doing, she was turning in a small, slow circle for him.

"Well?"

Cesare doesn't even think about what it means for Nancy, that perhaps it might seem inappropriate. Instead he just watches, looking her over her and her attire before smiling and shrugging.

"I confess: I'm no fashion expert. Is this a new thing?" He wants to know if this is what happens when you don't have one of your main clients for a month or if this is simply her off-duty (or is it more on-duty?) look.

"You look cold."

"I'm warm enough." She's got magic to keep her from freezing to death. It really helped in the winter months. Still, she crossed her arms over her chest as though she were cold.

"No, it's not," she says, shifting from one high-heeled foot to the other. "Can't always go to balls and parties on the arm of some well-to-do gent. And you can't exactly work the streets in an evening gown."

She feels like maybe there's too much eyeliner on.

Nancy's words surprise him a little. He'd spent so much time with her while she was perfectly crafted and put together that he hadn't really expected her to still be a whore. Well, not quite a whore. He always knew she was one of those (his bank account reminded him of that), but he tended to consider her as something higher ranked. A call girl at least, or a courtesan like his mother had been. He did not anticipate Nancy being a streetwalker.

He bristles slightly, trying to figure out how to deal with this new information. Perhaps this is interesting. Perhaps this is exciting. It's certainly different from what Cesare is used to.

"Where do you go when someone pays you for your services?"

It's unsettling for both parties, meeting like this. She can't recall the way she first met Cesare, either- perhaps dressed a bit better if she was working the Angelo, or at a party. Perhaps that's what made her relationship with Cooper so different from the beginning- she hadn't met him while she was working. Cesare, she certainly had.

And now she was here, on the street, and he was looking at her like she was a piece of meat.

Good thing she was used to it.

"Depends-" lord why was she telling him this? She wasn't supposed to lie to him- that was why. "around the corner. Find a hotel. Their place." Undoubtedly he knew about Enfield and what had become of Midnight, she didn't have to elaborate to say she had no place to bring them anymore.

Perhaps it was something in the air, as fall crept into their world, maybe it was Cesare's mates in the background watching, or the danger she was in as an associate of Abigail Widdowson, but she found herself glancing over her shoulder again, staying in the lamplight.

Cesare's eyebrows raise a little at around the corner. Wow, ok. So Nancy is that kind of girl. He clicks his tongue, a habit that he's never exhibited in front of her before, and steps closer.

"And how much do you charge for..." he looks behind him at the vampires who are waiting for him to finish his chat. One of them waves, though not in the warmest of manners. "...six?" Cesare suspects that's a pretty good deal. After all, that's probably a night's work for what? An hour?

Truth be told, Nancy is right to be nervous. Cesare's offer is undoubtedly lethal. He doesn't intend to kill her, at least he doesn't think so, but in this state he definitely lacks the ability to protect her from the others. It's a really bad idea, though one that Cesare happily suggests nonetheless. So come on, Nancy. Let six drunk, murderous vampires drink from you. What's the worst that could happen?

She's never felt more like a child in front of Cesare than she does now, when he clicks his tongue. He doesn't approve- that much is clear. Most of her vampires like to see her dressed up. Most of her humans don't give a shit. And Fagin... He'd wanted whatever made money. She keeps her eyes trained on Cesare as he steps forward.

Immediately, she can smell the alcohol and blood coming off of him in waves. In the lamplight she can see the blood on his neck and she knows- even before he asked, that she cannot go with him tonight.

"No." She tells him. Six vampires was too many, they'd drain her completely of blood, and she doubted they'd stop when they'd had enough. If they're just as drunk as he is, there's nothing to stop them. "That's too many. No."

Cesare sighs, visibly disappointed, though not entirely deterred. Instead he just smiles at her again, moving in even closer so that he's got her pinned between him and the lamppost. It's not a physical, violent pinning (she could easily walk away if she pleased), but a social one where Cesare would find it pretty rude if she left. When he speaks, it's quieter, more private. After all, he's close enough now that he doesn't need to speak up.

"Are you too proud or something?"

He leans in to speak against her ear.

"They're good guys. Don't you trust me?" Of course good is all a matter of perspective. They've never done him personally wrong, but humans and witches and, oh god, fae? Sometimes they aren't the kindest or the most considerate to those their consider to be delicacies.

Damn straight she was proud! Most days, her pride was all she had going for her. Tonight was one such night, but that wasn't the reason she turned him down. So she didn't comment on it.

Her back was straight as he stepped in, and she was already wondering how much damage she could do if she found herself in trouble. best to avoid it all together, she reasoned, so she stayed put.

"It's not you I don't trust," she said, looking up at him. "I don't know them- or how much you've all had to drink already." A breeze blew by, stinging her bare legs and playing with her short skirt.

"Six feeding from me is enough to kill me."

Cesare laughs at Nancy's mention of how much they've had to drink. Of which liquid exactly? The fact that it's unclear and he's undoubtedly had his fair share of both blood and alcohol amuses him. Yes, Nancy. We've had a lot to drink either way you look at it, but so what?

"We'll play nice."

The only way Nancy would die is if they killed her. And they won't. They're sensible, aren't they? They know better. Who cares that they've killed multiple people tonight already? They're adults. They know how to contain themselves, not that Cesare is exactly demonstrating that restraint right now.

She left it vague on purpose, Cesare, gosh.

"I said no," she tells him again. "I'm not working with the six of you tonight." He couldn't compel her, not with her charm on.

She doesn't trust them, not tonight. It would be one thing if maybe there was only one vampire. But this is six and the others don't look as friendly as Cesare. He has plenty of whores anyway shouldn't he be able to get one of them?

Perhaps it's reckless to say no to Cesare so easily and so firmly tonight, but it works. Just about. He sighs and rolls his eyes as he takes a step back, clearly disappointed. What a spoil sport you are, Nancy. They were having such a good time before you stepped in and cramped all their fun.

But he readjusts, his eyes narrowing for a second. His friends are with him and he doesn't intend to look like a chump in front of them.

"What can I do to make it happen, Nancy? How much is it? What are your rules, Miss?" He speaks deliberately like a schoolboy scolded. If Nancy is so intent on being the one making the decisions here, he'll treat her like someone who is, even if it's in jest.

His act doesn't impress her. She rolls her heavily lined green eyes- he sounds like any number of the boys' back at Fagin's. and she's completely immune to it.

"You want me that bad?" She cocks a hip and puts her hand on it. He'll put on a show, so can she. Honestly what happened to his scads of women?

"Double tonight- you're the only one what touches or drinks from me. Any of them touch me, and I'll charge extra. If they want to fuck, too- then they keep their fangs to themselves. And they'll be charged as well." He won't agree to her terms she's sure of it. "I want to be alive and conscious at sunrise." with all her limbs.

Yeah, no, that offer doesn't work for Cesare. It's not the money. It's never the money. Instead it's the fact that his pals can't join in, not truly anyway. That doesn't work for him.

"You expect them just to watch?"

That's rude. If there's one thing Cesare likes to do it's share his generosity, even if it's really just a grand display of wealth and power. He could agree to her terms and then ignore them when the time came, but Cesare isn't quite that kind of man, even when heavily inebriated.

"That's not my kink, Nancy." Not right now anyway. Right now he's here to celebrate.

Nancy isn't honestly sure what to think. Good lord, the man seemed to really want to sleep with her. But he wanted to share her.

She wanted to say no. But the idea of the money... She'd need it, if she were ever going to get her own place again. Cooper's was so lovely, however. She liked waking up in his bed, but having no place to work was difficult. With so much lost, the money would buy her some replacements.

But six men...

"Yes, I do."

Cesare sucked on his tongue and shook his head in frustration. That was not the response he was hoping for. His voice deepens for a moment when he speaks, his irritation beginning to show.

"They're not the voyeur type. These people here..." he gestures towards them while he looks at her. One of them cheers, the rowdy kind of cheer that you make when you're several drinks in. "They're the movers and shakers of London, Nancy. The whole damn country, in fact. These aren't just some random john that you find on the street. They're important. So I would appreciate it if you pulled your socks up, gained a solid work ethic and show me and these lads a good time."

He would never have spoken to her like this if he were sober. But he's not.

"Are you listening to me?" Nancy found herself asking, tilting her head to the side. She folded her arms in front of her chest and tapped her foot irritatedly.

"I ain't going anywhere with you if you're going to speak to me like that." She makes no move to go towards them, or even to look in their general direction. Cesare is the sole recipient of her ire right now. "I told you no, you don't have a say in when or how I work. No one does anymore-"

She stopped short. She wasn't supposed to lie, but even that would be. So much of her money went to Fagin and the boys, even now. And she needed that money still. She could salvage this.

Nancy shifts, lowering her hands. "Honestly, Cesare, I was hoping the next time we got together, we could reconnect- just the two of us." She reaches out to place her hand on his arm.

Nancy's vitriol and backtalk does not sit well with Cesare. It causes him to push his shoulders back instinctively and push out his chest. How dare she? Who does she think she is? Does she think she pays him? She is very mistaken if she thinks she's the one in charge here.

He's about to reply with something scathing when Nancy touches him and he looks down at her hand before moving his gaze back to her. He thinks about it for a second, running it all through his addled mind. There's less anger in his voice but he's still wary. Nevertheless, the topic of conversation has changed.

"You should have considered that before you shacked up with a raging toddler."

Nancy keeps her hand on him, and will, until he makes it clear she should remove her hand.

Honestly, she thought they were past this. To hear him call Cooper a toddler was awful, but she could guess he assumed (correctly) that's where she was living now. She'd mentioned her flat in Enfield to him before, and he knew of her allegiances.

It would have been nice if he'd asked if she was okay, though.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that," she said, trying to keep the bite out of her voice. Ideally, he wouldn't bring Cooper up at all.

Quite frankly they'll be past it when Cooper and Cesare no longer interact, but instead, unfortunately they still do. As long as Cooper is in Cesare's nest, Cesare will continue to bitch about him. And as long as Nancy's dating Cooper, Cesare will bitch about him to Nancy. There is simply no way around that. So Cesare has zero sympathy for Nancy's complaint. Cesare is sure she'd appreciate a lot of different things, but this is not one that he's happy to humor.

"Have him stop throwing tantrums and I'll consider it. Does he know that you came to visit me last month yet? Will he ever know?" Cesare has half a mind to give Cooper a bit of a show and make him really sulk. After all, he's going to have a fierce temper either way. Cesare might as well give him something to be angry about.

She wants to pull away and tell him to go fuck himself. She really, really does. But that's not an option, unfortunately.

"I told him to be on his best behavior," she tells him. He'd been quite successful at her dinner party, too. At least he was better than her ex-boyfriend.

"He won't know," Nancy says, but her tone is soft, still. He'd be furious if he knew the two of them were talking together right now. "I try to keep him in the dark about what I do in it." She uses her thumb to stroke a small pattern on his arm where it lays.

Cesare laughs and rolls his eyes. There's something remarkably strange and ironic about the fact that Nancy seems to be more honest with her john than her actual boyfriend. That's a healthy relationship right there.

"That sounds like a good idea..." he says, his voice rich with sarcasm.

The group behind him call out something about what's going on over there and he turns briefly to yell at them loudly to wait a minute. When he looks back at her, he becomes very aware of the hand on his arm.

"What are you doing, Nancy?"

& you could run so fast & fade away- sept. open post

Mid September

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