undergrounds | upon the hill he'll hear my secrets -- open post for october

So Eames wanted to meet the man that had done what she'd thought was impossible. That was totally fine with her, because Eames deserved to meet Lance, and Lance should meet Eames, and you know what else? Both of these men had amazing dogs that certainly would help the two of them get along.

Honestly, besides the fact that Lance worked for the Night Council, she didn't see why they wouldn't get along.

So when Eames said he wanted to meet Lance, she readily agreed, under the condition that she come along, just in case. Hopefully this case of men-in-her-life-meeting would go far better than her dinner party. Regardless, she'd brought them both to a cafe, picking out a table outside for the three of them to sit at and get to know each other, and for the dogs to sniff each other's butts.

She was quite sure she'd made a good choice, enjoying the fall sun. Proudly, she'll smile back and fourth between the two men, occasionally petting a dog, waiting for them to really make the first move. She was just here to watch, really.

Eames is here with a latte and a dog by his feet; there's a bowl of water for Boxer, but mostly he seems interested in Lily. Sat straight, having positioned himself between Eames and Lily, watching her until she makes her intentions clear. Is she a friend, is she going to try to hurt him? Eames seems pretty relaxed, but he is not a dog he doesn't see everything.

Meanwhile, at table level, Eames has some regrets about his coffee. In hindsight maybe he should've just gotten a black coffee instead. But it's here now and it's not bad, so he takes a sip while he regards Lancelot for a moment, carefully pushing everything he already knows about the man to the back of his mind to avoid any slip-ups.

"So. I hear you got Nancy a pardon from the Council."

Best to get straight to it, right?

Lancelot is alternately sipping a flat white coffee and fussing over Lily, who is fussing between him and Nancy -- variously making absolutely sure nobody has any food they're hiding from her. Boxer is not particularly a big interest her, since he isn't barking and isn't moving and also doesn't have food. She's just starting to settle, and finally turn to watch Boxer now there's definitely no food -- Lancelot's fingers fussing with her ruff until the question makes him pause. He recognises Eames, distantly from somewhere. Probably one of the many supernatural events he's been to. Which one, though? Not recently, for certain. Last year, maybe?

"Yes," he answers, still turning it over in his head. "I thought it seemed a better choice than trying to hide her and being arrested myself."

This was gonna be great. Nancy's own latte sits in front of her. Each hand is occupied by a dog, because they are good dogs, yes, yes they are. The best dogs, and though Nancy's love of Juliet reigned supreme, she did love some pups.

Juliet, for the record, was living with Cooper right now quite happily.

"He didn't hide me," she assures Lance. She never told him where she'd been, just that she'd had someone she was staying with, the same thing she told the Night Council. And so far, she really did like staying with Cooper. But that was besides the point.

She looks over at Eames, "I didn't think he could do it." But he did. He'd stayed by her side the whole time, kept her as calm as he could.

Eames tilts his head, considering Lancelot for a moment. The man is chronically nice, heroic to a fatal degree, one might stay, but the idea of just helping someone in that situation. He doesn't know what the Council does, but he's always assumed they have some way of compelling loyalty; there's gotta be a reason he's never heard of a rogue Guardian.

The risk just seems much too high to assume solely out of altruism, but what would Eames know? He only knows about altruism from observation. Still, he's suspicious.

"Why?"

Why? Lancelot hesitates, frowning at the question.

"Why not?" he counters. "The Night Council offers pardons to anyone, regardless of crime. Nancy's was mostly a few petty things plus the crime of association. I'm sure Sylvia can call it show of great mercy and get some mileage out of it, so it isn't as if anyone suffers from the choice. Well," he winces, "apart from me, if Nancy is caught again. I'd like to think she's smarter than that, though."

Why? Okay, that was such an Eames question she couldn't even be mad. Nancy had always had a hard time believing that people did anything out of the kindness of their heart. But people like Lance... There was something different about him.

She makes the wise decision not to look at Eames when Lance explains how petty her crimes were. Only the ones she'd admit to were petty.

"Again!" She tries, "Oi listen, I wasn't caught in the first place." And she's very proud of that, all things considered. "I'll be on my best behavior, you know that."

Eames' expression doesn't falter — he'd hardly have made it this far if he couldn't keep a straight face every time someone edged a little close to something he may or may not have done. He's still staring at Lancelot, because he doesn't feel that his question's been answered.

"What about the risk to yourself?" He asks, electing not to raise an eyebrow at Nancy when she says she'll be on her best behaviour. "Going to bat for a Midnight witch can't endear Sylvia to you any."

"Maybe not, but I've done enough work for her that I'd like to think it evens out. She's already won this battle. She's had Abigail's house burnt down. In the grand scale of things, I'd like to think she can afford a little leeway. If not, she risks publicly losing face herself by having a Guardian disagree with her. I might be at risk from her temper, but she needs me too. "

If he's wrong, well, then that's his problem really. Not Eames or Nancy's problem. He can deal with Sylvia, if he needs to.

He still can't help the feeling that Lancelot must get something out of this, and he shoots an inquisitive glance aside at Nancy, but some people are just that stupid brand of nice. Hell, Lancelot's the kind of person who apologises for having been attacked.

The mention of Abigail's house gets a scoff and a shake of the head from Eames though, a noise that catches Boxer's attention and he reaches down to give him a soothing pet.

"Kind of overkill, don't you think?" Eames says-- he can cycle back around to the topic of Nancy's pardon, but it'll give him an idea of where Lancelot stands in all this. "She's really on the warpath."

"The party line is that Abigail's house is occupied by a dangerous fae which makes it unsafe," he answers smoothly, then jerks an eyebrow -- the rest of his expression staying carefully neutral. "I had no idea that the best way to banish a fae was to burn down a building, but I must defer to her judgement."

He thinks it's ridiculous, a petty last act against Abigail, but he can't do much to stop it.

Nancy's desperately wishing that she had a flask on her person right now. Adding liquor to her coffee would certainly make this a bit easier. It didn't help, them talking about Abby like that.

"It wasn't necessary." She speaks bitterly, looking down. Under the table, she reaches for Eames' hand. He didn't like Abby. But she'd been her friend.

Nancy's hand reaching for his is a surprise, to say the least, but Eames takes hers easily in his and gives a gentle squeeze. He'd had a joke about fire safety on his lips, but it dies after Nancy's comment.

"Well if you're looking to make a point," Eames sighs softly, eyebrow raised, "I suppose a huge fire in the suburbs might let everyone know you only have their best interests in mind."

It's been a fight not to scoff every time Sylvia said words to that effect, and it's a fight now.

Edited (three hours later i realise that's totally the wrong icon for this tag) 2016-10-15 20:25 (UTC)

He glances over at Nancy and shakes his head. No, it wasn't necessary. He didn't think it was, but there's only so much he can do without losing the ability to do anything at all.

"She's made it. People won't forget, and she can't do it again. It's already been done. It's more a case of what happens next, I think."

Eames bites his tongue on the things he wants to say; that now people can start to see Sylvia for the vindictive old bag she really is. He knows now that Lancelot doesn't support her blindly — more like the lesser of a lot of evils, if he had to guess — but slagging off Lancelot's boss isn't gonna help anyone

"So, what now?" He asks, pausing a moment and then adding by way of clarification; "from your perspective, that is. What should happen now?"

What should happen? It's a rather broad question, but one he supposes he should have expected.

"In what sense?" he prompts after a second, "I can't speak for what Nancy should do, after all, if that is what you are asking. The choice is hers. Nor can I speak for the remains of Circle Midnight, I'm not even a witch."

upon the hill he'll hear my secrets -- open post for october

Early October, Lance, Eames & Dogs

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