undergrounds | (closed to natasha;) backdated to september eighth

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(closed to natasha;) backdated to september eighth

This is all a big gamble, is what it is. It's a gamble to get enough forces, it's a gamble to actually show up. But territory claims were rather common and deaths seemed like they happened only to people no one knew, so statistically speaking at least the worst didn't seem like it'd come to pass. Or if it did, he would apparently just hang with his ghost buddies and live life as annoyed as he already does. So, you know, nothing to lose.

But he does need help. He always forgets (should've done your research, Connor) that Natasha is with Redbright. It's too easy to see her just as a vampire. Just as a free agent who acts rationally. But she's not, and it's his first mistake. But he'll make several before the claim is over.

"Hey, Natasha," that he catches her is a gamble too but it works out. He offers her a smile that is easier than his feelings. "Are you busy right now? Maybe I can buy you a drink?"

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It's been a rough couple of days, heavy on politics and lean on spare time. It's almost a miracle that Connor manages to catch her at a moment that she can spare. She glances over the new werewolf, and perhaps against her better judgment, she inclines her head.

She could use a distraction, and Connor is usually that.

"You can have half an hour or so. I've earned a little free time."

"They're keeping you busy, huh?" He turns to walk towards one of the local bars. If he's only got half an hour he's going to make the best of it. "I think I'm only going to make it a little more complicated."

Well there's an understatement.

One of Natasha's brows kicks up. Not exactly what she was hoping for, but Natasha's already agreed to talk to him. And considering all the trouble he gets up to, she believes him when he says he's going to be making things more complicated.

"There's always something." Might as well hear what he's got to day. "So what's complicating things?"

"Okay, yes, fair, but I promise there's no murder involved." Was this his life now? Having to promise that murder was at a minimum? At least he says it lightly. He's had it up to here with his professors and classmates at this point.

Connor steers them into a bar and orders a beer, telling the bartender he'll pay for whatever Natasha wants. At least she's getting a free drink out of this! So you know! Benefits!

"I'm guessing you've heard about what happened," purposefully vague but few things are as important as what happened to Abigail.

Natasha tells the bartender she'll have the same as Connor. Seems like the best thing to do—no reason to have him waste money when she can't really appreciate them fully anyway.

"More than heard about it. I had a front row seat." Not something Natasha is proud of or pleased by. Her tone is neutral, but shading just a little toward grim. "It was a long night."

The surprise is obvious once she says it, his brows furrowing as he tries to decide what she's saying about it. But the grim note makes it seem like she wasn't rooting for Midnight's demise.

"It's not right," he replies quietly.

"Maybe not," she says. She's never claimed to be an authority on right and wrong. Not in any objective sense. Even at her best, her understanding of morality was utilitarian. She understood consequences and running damage control. "But it was smart. It sends a clear message about allying with Islington."

"Smart?" his tone is incredulous. Natasha is right, of course, it was smart. It did the job. "Those are real people, you can't just get all Realpolitik on me and claim burning down a house is the best thing a bunch of smart supernaturals could come up with."

"I didn't say it was the best. I said it was smart," Natasha doesn't see much point thinking about what's best. Too subjective. Too much room for moral quandary. "It sends a clear message. It's efficient. No one died."

Her lips twitch.

"I take it you don't approve."

"Of course I don't approve. Abigail hasn't done anything to hurt anyone -- " assumes facts not in evidence, Walsh, "and this is what passes for justice in this community? It's just decided and there's no trial, no inquiry? Just burning down a woman's house and capturing her?

"You're thinking like a lawyer." She says, kindly not pointing out that he's not necessarily thinking like a lawyer with a strong case—she can see the assumptions he's making. It's not really the time to set him straight, though. "This isn't a trial. It's politics—and if we don't do something it's going to turn into a war."

"This is what's going to start it," your Franz Ferdinand, your Gavrilo Princip. "Things are tense enough without this blatant display of power." And not good power, his tone suggests.

"I appreciate how it seems," she says, not really intending to disrespect his opinion, and not entirely satisfied with it herself. At the same time, she knows something had to be done, and Connor wasn't even alive during the Cold War. "Sometimes there's not a perfect solution to hold out for. We have to settle for good enough."

"This is not good enough," there's an angry edge to his voice. But there's something else, too - he's regretting asking Natasha to this, he owes her a lot and you never want to see someone you care for take this turn. But that's how it always was, wasn't it? Everyone he trusted. Like Annalise, who was supposed to fucking take care of them but was just leading them further down the rabbit hole.

"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears." She doesn't pretend she thinks he will. The point, of course, is that there's no easy answer to this problem. He sees the unfairness to Midnight, an he's not wrong. But a few witches being driven out in exile beat letting Harris legitimize his shadow council.

"What good would that do you? She had the collective minds of all the best and brightest at Redbright, but did she even think to ask them?" There's no easy answer, but to Connor this one feels rushed, sloppy on top of all of the moral objections here. "Are we supposed to expect this is how our elected leaders are going to act, whenever there's something -- or someone -- they don't like?"

"I wouldn't say we should expect it." She leans forward, her elbows on the bar. She can tell just how quickly she's falling in his estimation, and she might regret that, but it wouldn't do him any good being sheltered from the truth. "But I wouldn't call it a surprise, either."

She cuts him a glance then, her expression a little sad.

"You really think I have faith in our elected officials?"

"You can still support them and not have faith in them," his response is a little sullen. He hates talking politics with people, precisely for this reason. It was far easier to be friends and not disagree with them and realizes how deep the disagreements went.

"I guess I'm not what you'd call idealistic," Natasha says with a note of regret in her voice. It's born only somewhat out of the fact she's let him down‐she wishes she hadn't, but in this case, it seems like it was bound to happen. It's even less the result of her own compromise. She's long since come to terms with political realities much harsher than this.

No, it's mostly because for all that he's right, it's still an improvement over what she's known until now. She doesn't think he'll see that as an excuse though.

And maybe it isn't.

"It's been a long time since I had much faith in anything."

"I'm not asking you to be idealistic." He'd even called out Laurel on her idealism when they'd first started studying together. But for all that he pretended around his classmates that he didn't care about "saving people" or "doing good," he really did care. But there was a big spectrum as far as idealism was concerned and people who claimed they weren't were usually far into the cynical side. "I'm asking you to have some morals."

Natasha almost doesn't quite wince at that. He hit his mark, and it's not even one she's inclined to defend. Morality and her haven't ever been on the closest of terms, even when she's trying. "Sorry," Natasha says, catching his gaze after a brief break. "I wish I could. Right now, I'm putting out fires."

Metaphorically speaking.

Putting out fires. It was an ironic choice of words, after last night. He doesn't like it, and he's not even sure he believes her apology. He's glad he hasn't said anything yet about his plans.

"It doesn't work like that," but he knows there's not much else left to argue, here. There's nothing he's going to say that suddenly makes Natasha change her very set in ways.

"It shouldn't work like that," Natasha says, gently, realizing that she's not winning any more points here. She takes another drink of her beer and stands. "Probably time for me to get back to work."

He's obviously not about to stop her. He just watches her get up, shaking his head. "Try not to kidnap any children." Bitter? Acting like a child? Check.

Natasha winces slightly, a wry grimace that's for his benefit. She's not going to try to convince him he's wrong about her, though. She'll take that hit. She might not believe she deserves it in this case, but on the whole she's done more than enough to have that coming.

"I'll see you around," she says instead.

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(closed to natasha;) backdated to september eighth

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