[Meatball Parade on loop for 10 hours]

[falsify]

Catchall for Eames to keep clutter to a minimum! As always, PM or PP to chat it up, or just throw a starter down I'm probably amenable.

Comments

backdate to feb 5th

[thelittlemerman]

Finnick was eager to meet with Eames after Imbolc, but he gave it a day or two to make sure he could sort out his own thoughts and approach this rationally, so it wasn't until the fourth that he called Eames to set up a time and place.

It feels more secure in Faery, but Finnick's too embarrassed to invite Eames to see his own dwelling there and not so bold as to suggest going to Eames' home again, so he picks a spot in the Other Realm where he's gone to be alone in the past. It's a marble structure on the bank of a small lake, created out of boredom most likely by some creature who took a passing glance at the ancient greeks of the mortal world and decided there was something pretty in their architecture. The marble seems to grow out of the stone and dirt and somehow it perfectly hugs the tree that rises up in the exact centre of the marble gazebo connecting the platforms that overlook the lake. Finnick thinks there are sirens living in the water, but they're quiet so he assumes it's where they go to collect their thoughts as well.

He stands along a railing as he waits for Eames, staring into the water, lost in his own thoughts.

[falsify]

Eames arrives at the agreed time, a particular kind of comfort and grace around him here that he never has in the mortal realm as he comes to join Finnick at the railing. It really is quite beautiful here, serene and calming, Eames can see why Finnick would like a place like this.

"Lovely place," he says, leaning against the railing next to Finnick and following his gaze out to the water.

[thelittlemerman]

"It's relatively quiet," Finnick says - his own way of agreeing. "I guess the fact that there are so many larger, grander parks leaves this one generally untouched."

He pushes off the railing to turn away from the water and back against it, crossing his arms and regarding Eames with somber expression. "I hope it wasn't too bothersome for you to get here."

[falsify]

"No, no. It was fine." He waves a dismissive hand, turning to lean his hip against the railing and face Finnick. Time to get down to business, eh. "Besides, it's worth a little trouble to talk things over without being interrupted."

[knowntohisfriends]

The Dodger spends his time wandering about the whole of London, irregardless of territories. Of course he does, he couldn't do his work in the same place all the time, he'd be picked out way too easily.

Still, it can means he wanders into places he probably shouldn't...

[falsify]

Truthfully? Eames doesn't care about some kid wandering around in places he shouldn't be. He has a vague awareness of Dodger, insofar as he's aware of anyone nearby, but he's not exactly about to stop and talk to everyone in the immediate area just in case they might be interesting.

He's got more important things to do for a start, the first thing being getting himself a coffee. There's a nice cafe not too far off from Marble Arch-- a little out of the way, but not a long walk. Sounds like the kind of place he fancies today.

[knowntohisfriends]

The man does look vaguely familiar to the Dodger, and he finds himself staring a little. He's not picking him out as a mark - not so much as he reckons - but he's trying to place where he knows him from.

So he follows the bloke, of course he does. Trying to work out where he knows him from, and if it's a good knowing or not. It could just be that he's got one of those faces.

Natasha; feb 7th

[falsify]

Eames is, as is becoming a constant for him, tired. Tired and just about done with everything. The Court has been in a tizzy since Samantha was anointed; what does the new Mother of Witches intend, she so brazenly carts around a familiar, blah blah blah. And yet the response from most was, as always, "let's wait and see." As if immortality means never meaning to raise a fucking finger. At least one had called it 'youthful impetuousness' that made him so insistent about dealing with this now, but Eames knows mortals. Better dealt with sooner than later.

It's what makes him opt to talk to Natasha; uniquely placed as she is, even if she won't give away any secrets her insight is still useful. He arrives in the evening once he's freed up for the day, bottle of gin in his hand when he knocks on the door and waits patiently for her to answer.

[outstandingbalance]

Natasha doesn't get many visitors. She's well past the point where she doesn't tell people where she lives, but she still tends to keep her own place private. There's a moment where she considers who might even come here. When she sees Eames through the peephole, she's somehow not surprised though—she just wonders why he's there.

She suspects this isn't a booty call.

"To what do I owe the honor."

[falsify]

"Wondered if you'd let me pick your mind," he smiles and holds up the bottle for her to see, "I brought a bribe, if that helps."

[ghoulaid]

Eames has been categorized as someone to keep an eye on. He's Ghoul's latest project, but after about a half day of tailing him, Ghoul has decided he's getting pretty sick of looking at him. This is officially the worst, most boring activity ever.

The chase has stalled out for some reason or another- Eames is nearby somewhere, perhaps stepping inside a shop or stopping to talk with someone. Ghoul isn't certain, nor does he really care at this point. But the break at least gives him an opportunity to sink down in to a chair outside a little cafe, his entire upper half slowly drooping forward until his forehead gently thumps down onto the tiny table in front of him.

He's done. Just leave him here to die.

[falsify]

This is literally the worst tail he's ever had, and there are children on that list. So of course Eames has lead him all over the place, doing all sorts of pointless shit just to see when this guy would give up and go home.

Apparently he won't, is the answer.

Eames has just stopped into a shop to pick up some dog treats while he's here, when he spots the guy looking dead to the world across the street. So Eames takes a little pity on him, passes into the cafe he's parked outside and comes back a few minutes later to put a coffee down by his head and sits across from him.

[ghoulaid]

Wallowing in his own suffering is the most fun he's had all day. He's a bit disappointed when he has to stop, but there's movement that he can hear and feel happening at his table. He lifts his head just enough to peek at the rest of the world, confusion written on his face until he spots the coffee nearby. Oh, that's cool.

Then he notices what's behind it. Or who, rather, and he jerks upright quickly. "—Hey." Startled as he is, he can't quite keep the deadpan tone out of his voice, because Eames' mind-numbing runaround has sucked all the energy out of him. "Didn't expect to see you here..."

Arthur; feb 14th

[falsify]

Given he's hired Arthur for this kind of work before, Eames figures he's probably the best guy to call on for it this time around. It's kinda hard to tell which members of Samantha's coven might yield the best results, but this one seems to have a little seniority. So? That's the one they're gonna be following around all day.

Oh joy.

Eames brought snacks though? Mostly because he fidgets a lot so that's a way to deal with it, and he's helpfully not bought anything particularly loud or annoying to eat. He did consider sunflower seeds, but it's not Arthur's car they're gonna be stuck in together all day so the payoff there is extremely limited.

Either way, here he is in the passenger seat, sighing as he rolls his shoulders and tries to adjust to get comfortable as they watch this place across the street.

[specifiercity]

Arthur's in driver's seat, patient and content despite Eames' rustling beside him. He's done plenty of recon before and it's not difficult work, it just requires a bit of focus, which is relatively effortless for him. He has a notebook open, tossed on the dashboard for now, marked with a couple time stamps and notes from their observations so far.

He doesn't even glance in Eames' direction but he can feel him moving beside him. "You can go grab coffee if you want," he tells him, casually giving him an out in case he wants to go.

[falsify]

"Nah," Eames says dismissively, finding a new position to sit and rests an arm on the door, still looking out the window. "Might need to stretch my legs in a bit, but I'm fine for now."

He can do this kind of stuff easily once he settles his head enough, it's just, you know. His butt kinda hurts from spending all day in a car seat.

[bellbound]

In the old days, taverns used to be excellent places for gossip. Apparently that hasn't changed. This one is like any other local pub except for one crucial thing: it's full of gossipy fae. Their presence draws him like a beacon, Mogget slipping easily into human form as he steps through the door.

The pale man casts his eyes around, sharp ears picking up on bits and pieces of conversation. His suit is all-white except for the red leather belt around his waist, and where the buckle should be is a tiny bell.

He doesn't expect to be served so he finds a corner table and settles down to listen and to watch. By now he has identified the most potent magic in the room and it belongs to a fae he recognises. Time for some eavesdropping. What does Eames have to say for himself?

[falsify]

Mostly? Eames is aggressively not caring about anything anyone says to him. If there's anything he's learned in his current position, it's that old fae love to complain and hate doing anything that could be construed as useful.

They complain about the wolves, they complain about the vampires, they complain about the witches, and Eames rolls his eyes at everything. Thank god this isn't a democracy and he has to pretend to care about their petty issues honestly. "This witch is rude tell her to move her shop out of our territory," "why haven't you just taken control of the city yet?" blah blah blah. It's incessant.

Eventually, after god knows how long, Eames shoos everyone away. Returning to the table with a fresh beer and a simple, "go away now," that gets them all to leave. Some slower than others, but they're all gone eventually and Eames sighs with relief once he's alone.

[bellbound]

Nothing he hears is untypical. Decades may pass, but the old grudges stay the same. One by one the fae leave until Mogget is the only other left. He too stands as if he's about to leave – but instead he transforms back into his cat form and jumps up on Eames' table.

"That was painful to watch." He skirts carefully around the pint of beer. "Didn't look much fun to endure either."

One of the many reasons he never sought the highest ranks for himself. He always did prefer his own company over that of any other.

feb 18th

[specifiercity]

Believe it or not, Arthur actually had to debate with himself about whether or not he should come to Eames with this information. Now that he has finally admitted to himself that he kind of cares about Eames' well-being he has to check himself whenever he wants to share anything remotely political just in case it's too much information to share across factions. This is something he has deemed vague enough to share and important enough to do it right away, which is why he goes straight from Hillingdon House to Eames' front door after he's done working there for the day.

It's early evening when he rings the bell, looking up and down the street as he always does and has done multiple times on his trip here just to check for a tail. It's a combination of paranoia and habit that he doesn't care to break, and with this it might be more pertinent than not to make sure no one's around to overhear.

[falsify]

Huh. He wasn't expecting Arthur again this week, so it's kind of a pleasant surprise when he opens the door. Especially with the way this week has turned out, so Eames smiles and pulls the door open for Arthur to come in.

"Hey," it's pretty much second nature at this point, the way he reaches down for Boxer's collar to stop the big dumb dog leaping up and bowling Arthur over before the door's even closed, "you want a drink?"

[specifiercity]

Arthur gives him a polite smile, which is probably the first tip-off that something isn't right, and takes off his jacket after he steps inside.

"Yeah," he says, a note of hesitation in his voice, "a drink would be great."

Jean-Clade; feb 20th

[falsify]

He's taken a day to drink heavily and cuddle his dog stew in his rage, it's time to get back to work.

It's late morning when Eames makes his way to see Jean-Claude, when business of both the vampire and the club sort will be at its least busy, and heads back to see him once he's assured Jean-Claude is in. Polite and friendly as always with the staff, but he doesn't stop to chat like he usually might, far too tense and too much on his mind to for it.

He knocks on the door, waits patiently for an answer with a bottle of Chardonnay in a chilled bag-- he knows reds are the more 'vampire appropriate' type, but it's early yet. If one feels like drinking it now, a white seems more daytime appropriate. It's the sort of thing one should consider when coming to collect on a debt after all.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude glances up from where he sits at his large black-lacquered desk as he gestures his visitor in. Raising an eyebrow as he recognizes Eames, considering the hour and the fact that he knows that the club is not open for business just yet. He must have a word with his front staff about letting visitors in unannounced, especially fae visitors into a vampire club.

He must say he finds himself curious as to what brings the other man here at such an hour. (And also what he has brought in the bag, if he is being honest.) He sets aside his work, capping his pen (a real fountain pen, because some of us still have one foot stuck in the previous century), and standing to gesture the man in.

"Mon ami," he greets smoothly, making the words sound familiar, as though he does not use them with practically everyone he knows. "A pleasant surprise. May I ask what brings you here?" Partially as he is wondering whether to gesture him towards the seat opposite him or whether to gently move them over towards the white couch in the side of the room.

[falsify]

It helps when one is particularly charming, if Eames does say so himself. He can talk his way into a lot of places without necessarily being allowed in.

"Business, I'm afraid," Eames smiles ruefully, but he holds up the bag to draw Jean-Claude's attention, "but I brought a bottle of chardonnay, so maybe you can forgive me?"