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.

[ooc: toss a post in if you'd like, or grab me at

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"I'm not sure I'd call it sweet," Eames says, partially a protest, but mostly because he doesn't think 'sweet' is the word for offering a workplace and charging rent. Helpful, maybe.

But it's not worth any real thought, amd he reaches out a hand to pet the dog that's since fallen asleep next to Nancy. "I'll have a set of keys made for you tomorrow and you can come get them whenever you want."

"You may not, but I do." She gives him another soft smile, appreciative all the same. She had a different sort of scale when it came to what was considered sweet. Probably because she had a very low bar for decency.

"Alright. Thanks. I'll pick them up as soon as I can." She finishes her tea. "Thank you. For being so supportive, Eames."

That gets another dismissive wave of his hand — supportive? Who is he? — and he finishes his tea.

"Don't worry about it." Or mention it or give it any serious thought, "not about to leave you out in the cold, am I?"

"No," she tells him, with a nod of her head, her messy bun flopping forward just slightly.

"But it's more than I could have asked for. It means a lot to me, that you'd open your property to me and my business." So she was going to mention it and give it a lot of serious thought.

Despite having raised her, Eames' gesture was more fatherly than Fagin had ever been.

"You let me know if you ever need someone to walk Boxer."

"He seems to like you a lot already," Eames says with a nod toward where Boxer's curled up for a snooze next to Nancy. Not quite comfortable enough to sleep with his head in her lap, but it's more than most get on a first meeting. He's a sensitive dog, Eames' fondness for her easily puts Boxer at ease.

"Well, he's a good boy," Nancy says. She smiles and looks over fondly at the dog, placing her unoccupied hand on his head.

"I like him a lot, too. And his owner isn't so bad, either."

His tail thumps against the floor in his sleep, evidently happy about the attention even when he isn't awake to acknowledge it.

"Not so bad, mm?" Eames laughs softly and stands to get another drink, gesturing with his mug to Nancy to see if she wants another, "I suppose that's high praise."

Nancy nods- she will always take tea, that is a silly question. She hands over her mug.

"I'd like to think so." There's a twinkle in her eye, but let's not forget that her Worst Ever is Fagin, so, pretty much everyone else was not so bad in comparison.

Eames laughs softly as he takes the mugs through to the kitchen, coming back to lean in the doorway once he's flicked the kettle on.

"Have you eaten?" He asks, because if there's two things Eames is good for it's food and booze.

"Cooper's yet to keep a lot of food in the flat," she admits, unfortunately. "So if you don't mind? I hate to be a bother." He was already going so above and beyond for her. She loved it.

Absentmindedly, she scratches Boxer's ear.

"It's no bother. I've got some Chinese from last night, or a few other things from the week." He gestures for her to follow him to the kitchen, take a look in the fridge and see if there's anything that catches her fancy.

Nancy nearly snorts. Wow they've reached a new level of casual friendship, and to be honest, it thrilled her. She'd only ever done this with Kenzi, really.

She pushed herself up to her feet, leaving Boxer to sleep, walking into the kitchen. "Thanks." The fridge is opened before she even gets there. Magic is fun.

Eames glances over his shoulder at the fridge when it opens; it's well stocked for a man who is obviously extremely fond of both food and beer. A very eclectic mix, plus a few vegetables that don't look entirely of this realm.

"Top shelf," he says absently while he makes a new round of tea. That's where all the containers for leftovers are.

Nancy looks at the fridge in awe. She had never seen a fridge this full in her life. It's a small miracle, and she takes a moment to look at it all.

"Is there anything you don't have? Or, for that matter, want me to grab for you?"

He laughs softly at the question, and with a gesture the milk makes a journey from the fridge to him.

"All out of lettuce, actually." Eames says over his shoulder. Suffice it to say he doesn't actually need anything from the fridge.

Alright, more for her. Nancy's standing on her tip-toes to reach a few of the take-out cartons and going through them carefully. Occasionally, she puts a few aside to make herself a plate.

"Hope you don't mind, I'm having a- we did this all the time, growing up. Just open up the fridge and take what was left out, eat what we could of leftovers. What was the word Fagin used... Smorgasbord." she has no idea that's actually a concept that existed outside her small world.

Eames doesn't tell her that it's a relatively well-known concept, though he does remember the meals Fagin's kids had pretty well, weeks of bread and potatoes way back when. It's kind of funny to think about how many things you can just pick up at the shop he used to steal and sell on back in the day.

God he feels old all of a sudden.

"Go for it," he turns to put the milk back (manually this time) and leans against the counter with his mug in his hands, "half of it's probably not going to get finished anyway."

Bread and potatoes, and anything they can get their hands on now. Often times it's fast food nicked from dumpsters, or cheap chicken nuggets that are probably just foam. Money's always tight, despite what the old devil hoarded away. Nancy wouldn't be surprised if he had millions to his name at this point, that he would never let anyone touch.

"Thanks," she tells him with a smile, moving to the side so he can better get into the fridge. "I'd be more'n happy to take some off your hands." She's spooning some lo mein out on to the plate. "I can name a few boys that would be very happy for something that isn't easy mac."

"Have at it," Eames says, watching Nancy sort through the food. He gestures to one of the containers, "leave the beef stew though. I have someone coming over tomorrow, she really likes it."

Nancy raises an eyebrow. "A girlfriend?" Tell her everything, Eames.

Eames... Well, he laughs like Nancy's just told a really great joke. Which she has, as far as he's concerned. He hasn't had a relationship in well over a century and he is exceedingly happy with that state of affairs.

"A friend," he corrects pointedly. Don't go getting ideas now.

"And what's her name?" She asks, not giving up on the idea that Eames has a girlfriend. Is she gonna get a new mom? She's never had a new mom before.

Ignoring his laughter, she wraggles her eyebrows at him.

Oh, she wants more information. Well, she can have that. All of the pertinent information, and then maybe she'll never ask again. (A man can dream.)

"Her name is Anna. She's an art curator, and we met some years ago because she wanted some new work found for the gallery she was with at the time." He pauses to take a sip of his tea, and then continues listing off all the facts about this particular 'relationship' like he's recounting facts from a textbook. "She's also going on twenty-five years of wedded bliss with a man by the name of Harold. He's also an art curator, and the two of them are both phenomenal in bed."

And now she knows everything about him and Anna. "Anything else you want to know?"

Nancy finishes preparing her plate before Eames is done explaining Anna.

"...alright. that's more than I was hoping for but thank you...?"

"Well you seemed curious." He's just being a helper, Nancy.

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