undergrounds | NOVEMBER CATCH-UP

Finnick has a love/hate relationship with these kinds of places. On one hand, it's in his nature to love the extravagance of an upscale club like this, magic clinging to the walls because it's run by fae and frequented by every kind supernatural being there is. On the other hand, he knows the kind of corruption and evil that can happen here just because the kind of money that changes hands breeds greed and that sort of thing makes him sick to his stomach.

So he hasn't been here in a while.

Luckily he's here on business, not to socialize, so as soon as he walks into the old building with it's faux-Victorian decorating he's on the lookout for Eames. The man's magic is strong, so it's like a beacon drawing him to the back of the hall opposite the stage, up half a flight of stairs where there are a few more private booths. They're large booths with curtains pulled back, but they could be drawn closed if the guests wanted to stay away from prying eyes, and in one of those he finds the Lord of Autumn.

"Nice place," he says, tilting his head and waiting for an invitation to sit.

Edited 2016-11-29 00:19 (UTC)

Eames likes almost everything about it that Finnick doesn't. That... Morally dubious undercurrent, shall we say, it speaks to his grifty little heart on a borderline spiritual level. It's full to the brim with his people, and the people that pay his bills.

But it's time to talk business, and he waits for Finnick to sit, "thanks for coming." He's still a bit unsure about Finnick, but he wants to help and he's very invested in the wellbeing of the fae, which involves Eames' own wellbeing, so here they are. Eames gestures to a passing hostess for her to come take their order, "want a drink?"

"Sure," he says, looking thoughtful for a moment before he asks for some pricey white wine and gives the hostess a smile as she leaves. He feels like he's pieced himself back together now - he can pull off the mask again and no one can see the cracks.

"Thank you for inviting me," he says after she's gone. "I'm very interested to know why you did."

Eames orders himself some craft ale, he'll be finished with his current drink by the time she comes back, and smiles too. Waiting until she's well out of earshot before he speaks to answer Finnick.

"No doubt you've heard about the shakeup in the Nest," he says, voice low, just an extra bit of caution to make sure it doesn't carry far, "with one threat dealt with, I think its time we turn our eyes back to other things."

Finnick's voice is at a similar pitch as he leans subtly forward to speak across the table. He loses the smile and raises an eyebrow - it's not serious, but he's certainly not trying to be charming when he says this.

"There's only one immediate concern left, as far as I'm concerned."

He sits back and narrows his eyes at Eames. "What kind of thing are you talking about?"

"The witches, of course." Sylvia first and foremost, but let's be honest, as it stands the Council is really just a subsidiary of Daybreak. Eames is fairly certain it's an issue they see eye-to-eye on.

Draining the last of his drink, Eames puts the empty glass down and leans back with a sigh, "sadly, we're not in a position to dissolve the Night Council. But I'm sure we have the means to make a change."

They should, at least. Finnick's of the opinion that if the fae had any hand in taking down Raymond Harris then the Night Council should be desperate to find some way to thank them. That's just the part of him that still believes in making deals and staying out of debt, financial or no.

"We need more influence," he agrees, "but what kind? And what kind of leverage would we need to get it?"

"We take a seat at the table."

He says it plainly, like it's really as simple as just turning up and sitting down at a meeting. "Recent events mean the balance of the Council is strongly weighted in favour of Daybreak. I'm sure we can twist that in our favour."

Finnick frowns out at all the people in the dance hall as he mulls that over. A fae seat at the night council has always felt like a pipe dream, but maybe now...

"We'd need support from the other factions. A lot of support." He turns his eyes back to Eames, frowning and unsure. "Does Jean-Claude feel indebted enough to you to endorse something like that? What about the wolves?"

"Doesn't matter. Support from the vampires and wolves is worth shit all to us at the moment." If a bunch of humans felt like cobbling together and coming to their aid, it may help, but that's not about to happen. Either way, they're gonna have to think of some other way around.

"The current Witch's rep owes me a favour, the witch sitting in the former vampire seat is something of a bleeding heart, and the Shifter's contempt for witches is a relatively open secret." Eames tips his head, quiet save a soft thanks when their drinks are brought back, and then he frowns as he picks up his glass. "We just need to get the seat, they don't need to like us being there."

"It would be nice if it could stick, however," Finnick says, swirling the wine in his glass idly. He much prefers the idea of doing more work now to do less later, and he doesn't want to help get this seat set up only to find out they have to defend it ten, twenty, or fifty years down the line.

In any case it's going to take some work to get it there at all. A sly smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he looks at Eames over the rim of his glass.

"Do you want me to talk to someone? I can be quite persuasive if I put my mind to it."

Eames ducks his head in silent amusement, considering the question for a moment. Judging where Finnick is best placed, it's tough considering the contempt all of them hold for the fae. But Finnick's a people person, or at least he pretends to be one convincingly enough, he can make it work.

"Diphylleia," Eames answers, "I think you'll be able to tug on her heartstrings better than me."

The name sounds familiar. He knows she's on the Night Council, at least, but he never pays much attention to what people do unless it's relevant to him at the time.

"She's a witch, right?" he asks, trying to look for more information without outright asking for it.

Eames nods as confirmation, "former Vice President, currently sitting in the former vampire seat as treasurer." He leans back, frowning a little in thought, "I don't know her personal feelings on us, but it's probably safe to assume they're not positive."

"I can make her feel positively enough about me," Finnick says with a shrug. "Is there anything specific we want from her or do I have the nearly impossible task of changing her entire opinion on the fae?"

He shakes his head, leaning forward to reach for his drink with a soft sigh, "you don't need to change her opinion on us." That's a mammoth feat neither of them is going to accomplish, "play her sympathies-- make her question the oligarchy."

He narrows his eyes at Eames across the table, idly swirling his drink. "Do you think that'll be enough? For it to matter when the time comes?"

"It's gonna have to be," Eames shrugs a shoulder and sighs heavily, "all else fails, we could try blackmail, but I'd much rather be as legitimate as possible."

Finnick looks out at the club as if he's thinking that their surroundings tell a different story. He understands the idea, though. Blackmail leaves a trail whether you want it to or not. Simply charming a member of the council isn't against any laws.

"I'll do what I can," he says at last. "How should we set this up?"

"I could look into her favourite kind of food, book a table for the two of you in the city-- It's as close to neutral territory as we're going to get." He floats it as a suggestion, rather than a definite. If Finnick has any better ideas, Eames is more than willing to hear them, but a free and excellent meal makes most people extremely amenable.

NOVEMBER CATCH-UP

backdated to a week or two after harris

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