NOVEMBER CATCH-UP

[falsify]

[All those threads we meant to do during November and then never started. PM or PP FiremanSam if you want something backdated for this month.]

Comments

backdated to a week or two after harris

[thelittlemerman]

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.

Sometime after Harris is dead. But not too long.

[freelife]

Eames deserved a medal or something. But, Evie didn't have one to give him. So instead, she offers the fae the next best thing: a damn good meal. She still has a palate for the ever-changing human food that surrounds her, and likes to take advantage of it when she can. So she makes a reservation for two for dinner at Atelier Robuchon in London, and decides it's a done deal.

When the date comes, she makes sure to meet Eames at the restaurant, already sitting in a private corner. She works on a cocktail in a martini glass as she watches him approach. When he does, she rises.

"Glad you could make it," she says, extending a hand to shake his. "I wanted to personally extend my thanks and my gratitude for your actions, as of late."

dated to sometime between then and now, but not too long ago

[baisant]

Jean-Claude had tasted Eames' blood, and like any fae blood, it had effected him. But he had done his best to stamp down the worst of it. He'd had work to do on that night, and he'd had people to impress, and he couldn't do any of it if he'd been out of his mind. Besides, he hadn't had that much. But he'd had enough. And certainly more than Eames had given him permission for, which he regrets. Jean-Claude is a rather big proponent of permissions for such things, although he was certainly not going to sacrifice the moment if the fae had refused.

He has an apology to give him. And a congratulations to share in as well. For Eames had played a rather large role in his victory, after all. He could send out another message through the grapevine of fae underlings letting Eames know that he was looking for him. Or he could seek a more direct route.

Thus it comes to pass that one unassuming evening, several weeks after the fact -- he has given both of them time to rest and process the events of that night, as is only polite after all -- there comes a knock at Eames' door.