undergrounds | [Meatball Parade on loop for 10 hours]

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..."

"You've been following me all day."

If anything Eames looks pretty entertained as he sips his own coffee, eyebrows raised as if he's daring the kid to say otherwise. Though it might be entertaining to find out if he's as bad at lying as he is at following people.

Well, shit. "Everything ain't all about you, Marcia." Except this time it is.

Ghoul leans in, propping an elbow against the tabletop and cradling the side of his face in his hand with a bored looking almost-scowl. "But, if I was, I could maybe tell you that you're the most boring fucker I've ever laid eyes on and that I'm half expecting you to waste the next two hours buying vintage stamps or some shit."

Oh, that's a good idea. There's a brief glint in Eames' eyes at the thought of a new way to be a nuisance, but it's too late now. Maybe he'll save it for the next time someone tries to follow him.

Alas. Eames shakes his head and leans back in his seat, "no fun in that." He shrugs a shoulder, delightfully nonchalant one might say, if one was not Ghoul. "You know I knew you were there now."

Oh, no. No. Ghoul catches that look in Eames' eye, and if looks could kill, Eames would be headed straight to hell. No more being an intentional nuisance. That's rude.

"So you've been a dick all day just to make my life harder?" What a heartbroken frown that is. A whole day, wasted on dickery. The news is devastating. He sighs, long and loud and almost like the effort of breathing is some monumental task now. "Okay, fine. Now that I know that you knew that I was there the whole time, are you gonna act normal? 'Cause that's only fair. I don't show up to wherever you work and make your job harder."

Yes, this is definitely the way to reason with a fae. Ghoul for Werewolf Ambassador 2k17.

"That's literally what you've been doing." Yeah, take that. "I handle a lot of sensitive things, can't exactly do that with a wolf following me around."

Both as a Lord and a thief, it gets kinda difficult when there's a super conspicuous guy following him around. Who even thought he'd be good at this? Look at him.

Hey. Hey. This sounds like relevant information. Ghoul perks up, wriggling in his seat as he leans in. "What kind of sensitive things?" If that isn't the worst, most obvious attempt at fishing for information...

Look, his life's work is in blowing things up. Subtlety isn't one of his stronger suits.

So what Eames has learned today is this kid should never be a spy. Sneaky is not a trait he plays well.

"The kind of sensitive things that paid for my new home." And real estate in London is ludicrously overpriced, even for someone who can talk the cost down to a fraction of the asking price. He can’t afford to go telling random people about it.

"You'd better be playing." Ghoul retreats, sitting back in his seat and eyeing Eames warily. "You involved in some kind of mafia or some shit?" That's not something the pack needs to be caught up in. Maybe the fae are best left alone after all.

Wow. Eames barks a sharp laugh, shaking his head at the question. "Not that I know about." Mobs are Too Much Work for too little payoff, he's so not interested in that.

That's a relief, at least. So, he's not mob. But he still does delicate work, makes a lot of money, and can't afford to do it while being tailed. The gears in Ghoul's head keep on turning until he suddenly looks surprised and points at Eames like he's figured it out. "Drug dealer. You're a big time distributor, aren't you?" He shakes his head, annoyed at himself for having missed it in the first place. "I should've fuckin' known, you dress just like one."

"What--" Eames looks down at his shirt, he's fairly certain he's never met a drug dealer dressed like this. Maybe some rich asshole fleeing to some country with no extradition treaty? Whatever, he doesn't care.

Okay well, fine. Ghoul clearly doesn't know who he is so he's gonna have to tell him. If only to keep the punk from prying into his less savoury dealings. "I'm the Lord of Autumn," it's not something he sounds too thrilled about either. It's bullshit and he hates it. "I can't exactly have a werewolf following me about when I'm dealing with the wellbeing of my people."

Yeah, the Lord of Autumn sounds so much more professional than a drug dealer. Ghoul arches a brow. "That sounds..." Silly. That's a silly title. It's terrible. "Uh, nice."

Interesting fact, though. He wouldn't have expected someone like Eames to be the... mayor of fae, or whatever the human equivalent would be. But the news doesn't seem to deter Ghoul, because all of a sudden he's shooting Eames a pointed look and asking, "So, what, your people don't like us?"

Wow fuck you, it's a serious title. A serious title for serious fae.

"It's not about like," although they don't, but that's an astoundingly simple take on it and Eames' response is appropriately derisive and flat. "How comfortable would you be if you reached out to someone in confidence and they were being followed?"

Well. Fine, that's a fair point. But...

Ghoul shrugs. "Maybe they wouldn't notice." That's a good one. Comedian of the year right here.

That doesn't even get a response, just a flat stare. You're not cute or funny, Ghoul.

Somehow, the silence is more offensive than a thousand words ever could be. He scoffs. "Oh, fuck you!" He is the cutest and the funniest.

"'M not that bad." Sounds a little more like he's trying to convince himself rather than Eames now, but it's not going to help. He is, indeed, that bad. The truth is a bitter pill, and all that.

Get ready for a lot more rude silence, Ghoul, because Eames still doesn't say anything. Just raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee.

See that glare, Eames? That's enough to wither live plants. It's probably even enough to shrivel up slugs from a distance. Pure salt. "Shut your stupid face up." He doesn't know how or why he feels like he's losing a silent fucking argument, but it's happening and it's surreal.

He blows out an aggravated breath, sagging down in his seat. "Fine." He'll just follow him again later and he totally won't even notice next time. How about that.

He shakes his head, still amused by this all and Ghoul's petulance, but either way, "your Alpha made it pretty clear she doesn't want anything to do with us," that's overstating it a little, but still. Katherine didn't want to ally so why the tail?

If they're plotting to kill him they're not very good at it.

Ghoul chews at his bottom lip. Fuck. "You sure?" This is technically more like freelance work, but still, fuck. There are things about Samantha that he's not entirely comfortable with yet, although Ghoul is perfectly aware that this could be nothing more than a case of him being jumpy.

Regardless, he still wants to cover his bases as well as he can, being a one-man operation. He'd prefer to have a pitch ready if he needs to throw one at Katherine. If she's already made up her mind, though...

This must be Eames' fault somehow. "The hell did you do?"

Why doesn't anyone ever trust him not to be the worst? It's like they don't understand he's perfectly capable of being nice and reasonable.

"I had a polite conversation with her, and our interests didn't align."

"Didn't align?" What the hell kind of excuse is that? It's like putting together a puzzle- if you've got two pieces that don't fit, you make them fit. "What'd you want? What'd she want? Did you even offer anything?" Like Eames doesn't know how to negotiate already.

"Why does it matter so much to you?" Eames raises an eyebrow at this kid yelling about this stuff like he knows anything, "five minutes ago you thought I was in the mob."

"Ain't my fault you act like you're in one..." Poor Eames. Will Ghoul's attitude ever relent?

No. No, it will not.

He gives it some sort of effort, though, by scrounging up the decency to explain. His mouth is set in to a grim line while he takes a second to think- he's got to do this in a way that doesn't give away too much information, and also doesn't make him sound like a delicate little baby nerd. "It's just. Y'know, things have been kinda stirred up a lot lately, and I know how fast shit can go wrong. I don't want us to get caught standin' around and holdin' our dicks, because we're gonna be in trouble if we get got one good fuckin' time." The us being the wolves, naturally. He never said his motives weren't primarily selfish. But...

"I kinda like you guys, anyway. You seem all right. And everybody hates you all, too."

[Meatball Parade on loop for 10 hours]

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