undergrounds | [open] FAE HUNT

17TH // BROMLEY

The reports come his way in the morning. Losing fae to the vampires is... Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Not with Harris in charge. This is different however, and an urgent call has him making his way down to one of the community centres long before he'd think about leaving the house under usual terms.

Having a couple of fae tell you all about the night they had, being caught by vampires, watching another die, one with bites on their neck, etc. etc. It puts a real damper on your day. At first, he chalks it up to general vampire cruelty and plans to phone in a bounty to Hillingdon, but they just keep coming. Fae with burns from iron cuffs, missing fae, dead. It's like something just happened overnight.

He can be found more than once over the course of the evening, having a hushed conversation in the corner of a bar that looks like it could easily come to blows if not for the way Eames excuses himself abruptly and none too friendly.

Maybe you're curious, maybe he bumps you as he leaves looking fully like he intends to kill someone. Or maybe you just have a weak spot for men with clenched jaws nursing drinks alone at the bar. Either way, he's about.

18TH ONWARDS

It takes a couple days, and even then it's slow to start, but sure enough security starts tightening up around the two Fae boroughs. Anyone with a particularly keen eye for patterns and a lot of free time will notice the patrols and any vampire who enters the area might notice how it feels like they're being followed. Not just watched, like they usually would be.

A week in, it wouldn't be entirely incorrect to assume every other fae is carrying a stake, but that's not the only change in faeville. Eames is powerfully unhappy with this, and he's really not too pleased to speak to anyone who isn't a fae. He doesn't think the handful of vampires he's friendly with are involved, but he doesn't care to see them, and in his estimation humans are a bunch of useless hypocrites. Any conversations are strictly business.

Despite the danger, he's totally unafraid to wander into vampire territory, (though by the 25th he's constantly flanked by a burly looking pair at the behest of another Lord,) and some might say he's actively looking for a fight. There's more than a few scuffles if one fancied joining the fray. Vampires he sees getting a little too close to a fae, or maybe they try to round on him instead.

It wouldn't be silly to assume he's looking out for his people, but really he's just looking to vent some of his frustrations at the source.

29TH/30TH

There may be plans to deal with Harris, but that doesn't put Eames any more at ease in the interim. They're being hunted by vampires, and they're increasingly at danger of the whims of witches as Samhain approaches. It's not exactly a great time to be a fae in London.

He's not been in the mood for sex (shocking, isn't it,) drinking is at a minimum, and he can't exactly fight his way across the city just because he's in a shitty mood. Much as he'd love to. Doesn't leave many outlets to keep his mood even, but there's always a spot of fun to be had with a game of cards.

They're not as numerous as they used to be, (ah, the good old days,) but there's still plenty of back room gambling dens around London if you know where to look. And maybe it's a little unfair to hang out in the ones not frequented by magical types, but on the other hand Eames doesn't give a fuck. He needs to unwind a little, relax himself before the big night that hopefully won't be a huge fucking disaster. If that means clearing a bunch of mortals out, then so be it.

Go ahead, confront him about it. He'd love the fight.

ETC;

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Eames actually stops at that and turns to look at Arthur, completely baffled as to how to reply to that. He's certainly never thought about it, because whether or not you consider someone a friend isn't typically a complicated question. He supposes he'd be a little upset if Arthur died, but he'd also be a bit upset if Judi Dench died and he's never even met her.

"I don't know," Eames sighs, thoroughly exhausted like he always seems to be after dealing with Arthur, "but it's also not a question I really have the luxury of considering right now."

Arthur frowns at him, just as confused but feeling frustrated by this whole situation. If Eames could just read his mind maybe he'd understand that he's not as much of an ass as he comes off like sometimes. Or a lot of the time.

"It's not supposed to be a hard question," he says.

"And yet," Eames says, exasperated. He wouldn't want to be having this talk at the best of times, but right now he really doesn't have the time or the energy for it.

He shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips, looking away in similar exasperation. It's a dumb conversation that two grown men shouldn't have to have, and he's already done with it, so he's not going to press.

"Are you going home?" he asks sharply, after a moment.

Why the tone though. Eames raises an eyebrow, swallowing the urge to be contrary, and sighs.

"Yeah." There. Congrats Arthur, you harangued him into leaving.

Arthur hesitates, but he nods. He feels kind of bad for this entire interaction but he knows he wouldn't have just been able to let Eames walk by without saying something so he doesn't waste time regretting it.

"Right. I'll leave you alone, then."

He's turning to walk away.

Oh well. He looks really mad at that, but he also doesn't especially want to deal with Arthur any longer, so. He huffs an annoyed sigh and turns to go back where he was going.

Arthur's got some pride issues. There's no question about that. But still, he finds himself obsessing about what a jerk he was when he ran into Eames on the street just over a week before. He knows his feelings were justified and that he was both worried about Eames on a personal level and in terms of political stability, but he's not very good at expressing it.

So here he is, at Eames' door, ready to make an attempt at some kind of apology. it might not go so well, but he's going to try. He rings the bell and waits with his hands shoved into his pockets and that signature frown on his face.

Eames opens the door with a suspicious expression, like he's about to get grilled about his behaviour being unbecoming of a Lord again. He frowns right back at Arthur, waiting to hear what he wants, but at least he doesn't just close the door in his face?

He was at least hoping for a hello, but obviously he's not going to get that, so he works his jaw and sighs through his nose. Guess he's just going to jump right into it.

"I was a dick," he says.

Eames... Well, he looks totally stunned by that. He's quiet for a moment, and then opens the door fully, gesturing for Arthur to come in if he wants.

"Yeah."

Arthur glances inside, clearly thinking about taking the invitation, but he sighs again and shrugs. It's not that he's turning it down he just wants to clarify that there isn't much more to it.

"I just came over to say that."

"Got it." He's not gonna push Arthur for some grand apology. For starters he's way too fucking exhausted for that, but also Arthur is pretty low down on the list of things actively pissing him off.

Plus, he recognises the effort.

He glances back in the house, and then at Arthur, "want a drink?"

Well that's something he can get on board with. "Sure," he says, still sounding a bit embarrassed about the whole thing. He steps inside and starts to take off his coat, at a bit of a loss for what to say next.

Eames walks through to the kitchen, coming back through with a couple of beers — it seems more like a beer kind of evening than anything else — presenting one to Arthur. He might've noticed the lack of dog, or just the general stillness indicating Eames hasn't been home much at all recently.

Arthur definitely notices something is off, but he doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to open that can of worms right now. He just thanks Eames for the beer and sits down on his couch.

Eames sits too, quietly enjoying a sip of his beer. He sighs after a moment or two though, looking at Arthur with a frown.

"You have this incredible talent--" he tilts his head, "for making even the most benign comments sound like insults."

It's not a criticism, though it probably sounds like one. Rather, Eames is just explaining that he knows Arthur isn't always being an asshole on purpose.

Arthur stares down at the beer he's holding in his lap.

"Yeah, I know," he says, in that resigned sort of way. He knows. He also knows he should try harder at not doing that, probably, but it's so easy.

"What I'm saying is that I know it's not on purpose. Most of the time."

Eames sighs and reclines a little in his seat, and tips his head at Arthur with a light smirk, "or haven't you noticed we don't argue as much as when we met?"

Arthur lets out a soft, amused sound, glancing up at Eames wryly.

"I thought it was mostly the sex."

Eames actually laughs at that, shaking his head. "I won't say it doesn't help."

He sighs, taking another sip from his beer. "I don't want to tell you how to do your job," he says after another moment of silence. "Sometimes I just can't keep my mouth shut."

"You should work on that."

Hot tips from Eames.

Arthur sighs like he's tired. "Yeah," he says, without a drop of sarcasm. He knows that.

Eames sits on that for a moment or two; there's a lot of snide comments he could respond with, but it's a big deal for Arthur to come and admit to being a jackass. As someone who also hates apologising, he can appreciate that.

"In the meantime, there's a lot of decent alcohol out there you can get for under thirty quid."

You know. For apologies.

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